#.they almost ALL start with a name or a pronoun. yeesh.

[dreamerdrop]

Work in Progess Tag Game! :3

Was tagged by @idonotbitemythumbatyou to post some wip sentences or excerpts based on the letters for MUSE, so!

Under a cut because… all but one of these are from WIPs about CSA survivor Julian, oops. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

M - Mere moments ago, he’d been in a beautiful post-orgasm bliss, content to spend the night with Garak curled on top of him, cradling the tactile wonder of his scales in comfort.

Now, he only felt disoriented and cold, like he’d been thrown into a pool of ice water without warning.

“That’s… it’s nothing, it’s… it’s just, I’m not, I definitely do not find him arousing, I just-“ Julian stammered, hands balled into fists as he stared at the ground, fixing his gaze on his own slightly twitching toes against the carpet. He watched the muscles in his feet and tendons flex as he cursed himself for not having prepared an answer to this question.

From a thing about CSA survivor Julian and weird trauma responses that I’m hoping to have finished in a few days maaaaaaybe.

U - “Um, listen, uh… I have to go somewhere now, for work. I… Listen, there’s a school teacher, her name is Mrs O’Brien, she’s very nice, I can take you to her and she can-” he’s cut off suddenly by the little boy making an odd sound, like he’s trying to hold back a wail. It’s distinctly unpleasant and hurts Julian’s ears a little.

From an older thing (i.e. I wrote it in October when I was still on my very first watch of the show) I need to sit down and rewrite entirely, but it’s… also about CSA survivor Julian and weird trauma responses… What a coincidence!

S - Smiling fondly, Garak felt a rush of affection in the way even a holographic Julian couldn’t help getting swept away in the excitement of all the minute details involved in such a bizarre fantasy.

“If you need to stop-“

“Garak, I’m a hologram, if I need to stop, I can literally just stop, I don’t even need a safeword, really,” Julian rolled his eyes.

This one is actually planned to be ridiculously schoompy and fluffy, and for a super specific kink that I don’t normally have excuse to do fluffy things with. >:3

E - Eventually, Julian had accepted his fate, and dug Kukalaka out of the drawer, and wondered if he ever had any chance of being normal to begin with.

This is one is… also from a thing about Julian having CSA trauma and weird responses! What an unexpected twist, that’s totally not a theme in my writing or anything lol.

Going to tag some of my favouritest favourite writers in this fandom, because I love every word they’ve ever crafted: @ectogeo-art & @walkingstackofbooks & @hellostuffedtiger & @the-last-dillpickle <3

(And also because they’re horrid enablers who motivate me to write even more psycholgical horror trauma fic.)

For the word… hmmm, maybe SNAKE? ‘Tis the year for it and all, and I hope the alien reptiles in Star Trek fill you all with endless motivation to create.

[inventors-fair]

A Spark of Genius: “Signature Spellbreakers” winners ~

Congratulations to @izzet-always-r-versus-u, @snugz, and @spooky-bard for winning this week’s contest!

@izzet-always-r-versus-u — Hila, Reclusive Witch

I’m pleasantly surprised by the balance of this card, with the willingness to push out a very specific archetype and the ability to capture a regardless-draftable and relevant planeswalker in one fell swoop. When considering what this set might look like, I can see a higher-than-average as-fan of curses, but if you draft just two or three, then this card becomes worth it. Even then, what if you’re doing a BR burn deck? Hell yeah, get the aggro. Discard, too! Dimir Mill? That’s draftable! The inquiry is both specific and open-ended, and yet, the card by itself remains absolutely wonderful to play. I can imagine that, like, a storm-pinging deck that uses cantrips and Battle Hymn would find it almost broken, but that’s other constructed formats; by itself, it’s wonderful.

The Oathbreaker format, too, loves the specificity of this card. It encourages fast gameplay, it’s removal, advantage, and a TUTOR of all things—and it remains unbroken! The “spell” specificity was the best choice and hey, signature spells are indeed wonderful options. If your opponents have hexproof... Well, hey, what’re you gonna do except make ‘em sacrifice enchantments. It’s a stellar card all around.

I would build this deck with Praetor’s Grasp or Cruel Entertainment.

~

@snugz — Crucius, Etherium Architect

Right, so, you’re evil, but so am I. Honestly it’s a bit of a coincidence that black was so prevalent this week in general, but I feel that perhaps multiplayer/political gameplay makes folks think of battlefield manipulation. This card isn’t quite like that, though. Instead this card encourages Narset locking and—lol, no, I’m kidding. The thing is, like, in a draft? Of course you’re going to jam this if possible, but only the first two abilities would be absolutely relevant, and yet the last ability is still amazing. Like, this card is, no doubt, encouraging some things that I know are hardcore control-based. I like that. I think it would be a hard card to get rid of. I also think that that -X is incredibly powerful and the most worrying part about this card, but that a powerful RG aggro/removal archetype could do the job to keep it in check.

What about multiplayer? I hope folks came prepared. The fact that it doesn’t protect itself necessarily is probably the most balanced part of it. Of course, getting back all your artifacts and stuff is a pain in the butt, and the fact that artifacts can improvise for artifacts is really powerful, but yeesh. Is the recursion too much? I think that despite the cost, a control-toolbox card like this could be kept in check. Still, my only critique would be that maybe six starting loyalty is the right answer instead of seven. Some limitations are necessary. Also, uh, maybe a shorter name with that mana cost combo.

I would brew this with Dance of the Manse or Access Denied.

~

@spooky-bard — Krulth, the Raucous

I’m so glad that first ability is worded correctly here because it shows that you’ve either a) studied enough cards to know the correct wording on drawing/losing order or b) read about how often I beg people to do the same having seen so many people miswrite it. But let’s get the minor stuff out of the way first, the polish that, I promise, means that I love this card. I believe the “their” in the third loyalty ability should be “that player’s,” because the “they” referring to the creatures is a little confusing? Pronouns and grammar and MTG sometimes need that little tinkering. The last ability, I believe, should be “Krulth enters with an additional loyalty counter on it if it entered from a graveyard.” Mmmmaybe. I’m 90% sure.

Draft with this card? Yes, you have an awesome RB reanimation package with theft and recursion that’s not broken and a late-game wonderful tie-in and options and card advantage and it’s a toolbox that means you get to do SO many things with it! Oathbreak with this card? You have a multiplayer target on your back but lord knows that you can work with it in the madness of it all. I feel the design choices oozing from this card, and it’s incredibly streamlined and slick and funny. That second loyalty ability is gorgeous! Macabre Tango, if you will. Unearth and the return is...beautiful, absolutely beautiful. This feels like a Horizons card that is what Horizons should be: fun power without compromising the meta.

I would play this baby with Yawgmoth’s Vile Offering or Shared Trauma.

Runners soon, commentary to follow!

@abelzumi​

[homenum-revelio-hq]

Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Erin!

You have been accepted for the role of LUCINDA TALKALOT with the facelaim change of Alisha Boe! We are thrilled to have Lucinda on the dash! We’re so excited to see what you bring to her, especially with her being thrown into this whole new world. We can’t wait to see her come into her own! Welcome to the roleplay!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME & PRONOUNS: Erin she/her

AGE: 26. Yeesh.

TIMEZONE: EST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I never work later than 6 on the weekdays and I’m always off on the weekends, so I should definitely be able to meet the minimum! My hope is to be active for a little bit every day, but knowing that life gets in the way, my realistic expectations is a session about three times a week.

ANYTHING ELSE: I’ve done a few Tumblr rps, but it’s been a bit since my last one. For an idea, I go all the way back to the Hogwarts Extreme days. Yeah. I’m old.

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Lucinda Moira Talkalot

AGE: 19 years old as of the current timeline (February 27)

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Cisgender female, she/her, and, as of now, she identifies as heterosexual.

BLOOD STATUS: Half-blood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Slytherin

ANY CHANGES: I’d love to use Alisha Boe!

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY: 

Lucinda Talkalot had always enjoyed radio dramas. Everything felt so dramatic and over the top and so unlike life. It was all pretty hilarious, the overblown dialogue and long, meandering monologues. Personally, although she thought it was all very cute, she was very happy she lived in reality, away from all the melodrama. Life wasn’t a radio play. If it was, Lucinda would happily play Dry, Sarcastic British Girl #132. And that was only if there weren’t any tree roles leftover. No one could quite put their finger on what came over the Sorting Hat to place her in Slytherin, least of all Lucinda. She took great pride in Just Being Lucinda, and was shocked to find herself suddenly sharing a room with multi-galleonaires. Not that it wasn’t neat. It was pretty neat. Like when Maribel Sparksley accidentally received her sister’s invitation to Reginald Wishwell’s Spring Cotillion on last week’s radio program. But, they all had this… oomph. No other sound effect to describe it. They had it, and she just… didn’t. She’d tried. Well, within reason. There were just some things that definitely weren’t her. Most often, they were simply too… much? She was okay with Just Being Lucinda, and most people in her life agreed. Happy with the occasional withering comment, good for a chuckle, practicing her potion-making (which she was just okay at, but that was fine with her,) happy to be who. she. was. Except for two people, both wonderful but uncomfortably pushy. First: her Quidditch captain. Lucinda had joined up because she thought it would be a fun way to pass some time, and she wound up as captain by the end of her career. All because she’d made a few quick adjustments when the chips were down. It had been a struggle for her, but dear old captain had convinced her that Just Being Lucinda was enough. Captaining a Quidditch team wasn’t as “too much” as it seemed, and the responsibilities were fewer than she thought. But, the idea of going any further than that was just completely out of the question. That adventure was plenty for her, and she was content with what she’d accomplished. Gave her something to do besides training with Uncle Maxim for when she’d inevitably go to work at (the aptly named) Maxim’s, her uncle’s long-standing apothecary, focused on “beautifying” potions. Not exactly her cup of tea, but it was a guaranteed job out of Hogwarts. But, beyond her tenacious Quidditch captain, the last pushy individual in her life was her fifth year Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher (buggers never seemed to last very long.) They were beginning their study of dueling spells and techniques, and Lucinda was visibly uncomfortable. Defense Against the Dark Arts had always been her least favorite class. It just felt very unnecessary to focus on all this doom and gloom and darkness. It’s not like Reginald Wishwell was going to burst in and attack them for crashing his party. It’s all pretty nonsensical. But, all thoughts if nonsense went out of her head when she first flicked her wand and watched her target crumble before her. From somewhere deep inside she felt something stir, almost like a want, or, more troubling, like a need. Some stray passing thought vaguely pondered if it might be that “oomph” she’d been looking for. And, when she looked down the line of targets, she saw hers was the only one so shattered. Her professor couldn’t help but whoop out a “Good show, Talkalot!” while the thrill in Lucinda’s gut gave way to a sort of pain. The same sort of distant pain she’d felt when dear old captain had handed her the reins for the Slytherin team. It went on like this for the next few weeks. They’d learn a new skill and Lucinda stood out while her insides vanished. She’d have a good-hearted laugh with her classmates afterwards, ever the joker, ever the obfuscator. It was all so silly. As if they’d ever use any if this. Then, came dueling day. Lucinda had been dreading it. They were paired up and professor gave the signal and off they went. Her opponent tumbled out of play after only one shot from her. One! She’d indicated what she was about to do as hard as she could, and yet they didn’t make one move to stop her! There were other opponents that were more difficult, but Lucinda couldn’t seem to turn it off, though part of her wanted to. It went from pairs vs pairs to the class vs Lucinda. Professor’s allegiance became embarrassingly apparent, as she couldn’t help but smile enthusiastically whenever Lucinda was crowned victorious. By the end of class, no one had beaten her. She was just too quick. And, all of them had been so easy to spot, their wand movements so languid and apparent, how could she not have guessed which spell was coming? It wasn’t a big deal. She was Just Being Lucinda. When she went to pack her things and meet up with her friends for their usual session to take the mick out of the class, professor stopped her, that enthusiastic grin still plastered on her face. “Have you ever considered joining the Dueling Club?” Lucinda nearly snorted, but managed to catch herself. She tried to imagine it, but the image was so hilarious she couldn’t picture it for long. A dueling club? Of course, she’d heard of it, but the idea of it was just as funny as the idea of her participating in it. What, was she going to be an auror or something? Ridiculous. Lucinda allowed herself a small, good-natured chuckle and politely declined. Thanks, but no thanks. But, she was persistent, and Lucinda had to dodge her until she was inevitably replaced. The rest of her career at Hogwarts was mercifully average, even considering her career as captain. Her potion-making was good enough to earn her that job at Maxim’s, and she was content, so long as she avoided her uncle’s attempts to talk politics with her. He had always been the alarmist of the family, and he didn’t need anyone feeding into his paranoia. But, Lucinda started to take notice of some strange orders coming into Maxim’s. She didn’t make the potions herself, just assisted her uncle and the other major potioneers, but there was something… off. She didn’t always recognize what they were for, though she wasn’t a particularly skilled potioneer. Not to mention, she found the general subject deathly boring and learned only the bare minimum required. Then, came the attack. It was as if everything until then in Lucinda’s life had been playing in monochrome and it all burst to sudden, grotesque, horrendous technicolor. The sharp definition of it all made her sick, and the illusion she’d never known she was spinning shattered. Suddenly, she was on the wrong side of the word “pointless." Everything would be different now. Except that she’d been right. Life wasn’t like a radio play.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY: 

The Talkalot family is your average mixed-house heritage clan. Dad’s a Hufflepuff, Mum’s a Ravenclaw, and they were both shocked but thrilled to hear Luci had been sorted into Slytherin, just like Uncle Maxim! Most importantly, they found some peace hearing that Lucinda would be amongst Slytherins, hoping some of that aforementioned "oomph” would rub off on her. That she’d finally commit to something, for Merlin’s sake. But, Lucinda’s sorting into Slytherin solidified her choice to follow in her uncle’s path, which was somewhat disappointing to them. Well, at least she’d be taken care of. Uncle Maxim was a good role model, an exemplary business-oriented Slytherin, keeping his head to the grindstone. She’d be in good hands.

OCCUPATION: 

Lucinda previously worked in her uncle’s shop as an assistant, but, obviously, that’s no longer possible. For now, she’s not thinking too far ahead and has decided to focus her time on the Order, telling her parents she’s found a new job.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER: 

Lucinda’s decision to join up was almost done on autopilot: She’d barely believed she’d done it until it was already done. But, what else was there to do? She couldn’t just stare down the Dark Mark, the actual-bloody-Dark-Mark-holy-hell, and not do… something! When it came time to offer up her talents, her vibrato faltered. Just Being Lucinda probably wasn’t going to cut it in the Order but, without thinking, she offered up her talents as a potioneer’s assistant, while mentioning she’d played some Quidditch back in Hogwarts. Of course, the actual talents she’s scared of still linger under the surface, her quick thinking, level-head, and, of course, her raw, natural dueling skills.  If she could be convinced that risking the fall is worth the leap, she’d finally be able to let herself enjoy being out on the frontlines where she belongs.

SURVIVAL: 

The Talkalots, in general, are nobodies. No fortune to speak of, but not destitute, either. Both of Lucinda’s parents work as office clerks for the Ministry, and not even in the fanciful departments. So, Lucinda has been and still lives at home,, content to get started at life once she was good and ready. Uncle Maxim was the only one who’d apparently kicked up some sort of minor stir. Whether Lucinda will ultimately find his actions foolish or necessary is yet to be seen.

RELATIONSHIPS: 

Lucinda was fairly popular amongst her housemates, but she was no superstar, either. She was well-known for her somewhat deadpan sense of humor, and was considered generally unoffensive as a person. The person she was most shocked to consider her friend was Emma Vanity. Yes, that Emma Vanity. Emma was definitely the most interesting to talk to out of the girls, since her life was something right out of Lucinda’s radio plays. She was most shocked to find out how accurate a lot of it was, all that bowing and kow-towing. Also, Lucinda never thought she’d personally know someone in an arranged marriage, and she definitely never thought she’d be 16 and faced with giving condolences to one of her friends for the death of her fiancee. There were rumblings about what caused it, but, in classic Lucinda fashion, she considered the implications far too extreme and cancelled them out. Calling someone the “d” word (Death Eater) without concrete evidence was a bit much, especially since their friend was going to marry him. But, ever so practical Lucinda would eventually become less chivalrous towards Emma. Listen. One month is one thing. Two is another. Three is when it starts to be a bit much. The other girls started whispering when Emma wasn’t around about how pathetic it all was becoming, and at first Lucinda disagreed, inside her own head, of course. But, after a while, Emma brought with her that same doom and gloom she encountered in Defense Against the Dark Arts. She was a constant reminder of all those things Lucinda found so foreign, and she couldn’t help but turn a blind eye as Emma was slowly “uninvited” from the group. The mood lifted and the jokes were landing again, but Lucinda did occasionally feel a small twinge of guilt when she thought about it. Another on th list of unexpected acquaintances was Regulus Black. Again. Yes. THAT Regulus Black. She remembered walking into the Quidditch pitch for her first practice and seeing him, hanging around as though it was the most natural thing in the world. He wasn’t much like what most people thought of him. He wasn’t someone you’d call to liven up a party, but he also wasn’t unwelcoming. They actually shared plenty of conversations, though they never got particularly close. She’d heard about his love for Divination and knew it would be better to keep a safe distance. She’d rather not mess with that sort of stuff. Less she knows about that the better. His death was probably the biggest shock in her life before the attack. She’d never absolutely personally known a person that had died before. Antonin was one thing, but Regulus had been a full, three dimensional person in her daily life for a few years. It was surreal. Then, there was Daisy Hookum. Thankfully, they’d never been very close. She was a complete nuisance. Way too in-your-face and took things far too seriously all the time. Her thing with the muggles was just way too over the top. What was so interesting about them anyway? They're muggles. She was so pleased when she was gone, and it had only been one year. Nothing worse than a person who takes something like being a half-blood and turning it into their entire personality. Otherwise, her Uncle Maxim had really become her best friend since she’d started working with him.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: 

As with most people, I ship Lucinda with chemistry, but I get this feeling off of her that she might enjoy someone older, maybe quite a bit older. It would place her well out of her comfort zone (which needs to happen) and I happen to think they work very well when done right. But, ultimately, I’m for anything that feels appropriate, and would never actually try to break up any established ships. (Though I won’t promise Lucinda won’t crush on anyone she ultimately can’t have. Lol!)

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE? 

Lucinda, more than anything, has the privilege of doubt. She has room and time to waste doubting her own abilities, doubting other people’s perceptions, questioning their methods and her own until they’ve all talked themselves into a frenzy while claiming this simply makes her rational. She’s also allergic to bad news, even after her recent bout with some downright terrible news. She’d rather not know, though she might be more likely to brace herself and hear it. So long as you get it over with fast. Lol. All in all, Lucinda is what an inverted classical Slytherin personality would look like. Her “I don’t take anything seriously” persona was cultivated to protect herself from her own competitive perfectionist nature. To try is to risk failure or looking stupid, so better not to try. To believe anything is to risk being wrong and looking dumb, so doubt everything. There is a strange perfectionism in her cultivated “laidback” attitude, leading to her remaining “laidback” through two deaths and her friend getting put out because of one. Because, to care for even one moment could lead to, well, the mental state we’ll find Lucinda in after the attack. Frazzled, all nerves, shell-shocked. Regarding blood purity, if you’re wixen, you’re wixen. She has no opinions on the nitty gritty of who’s “worthiest” amongst wix. But, muggles are a bit of another story. If you asked her, she’d say she liked them, but that’s about as far as it goes. She tepidly “likes” them, but has little interest in them or their affairs. They’re just muggles. Whatever.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? 

I’m really excited to work through this plot as a collaborative piece! Having everyone all on the same side is a brilliant idea and helps with offering up parameters to encourage creativity.

PLOT DROP IDEAS (OPTIONAL): Other than a reason for Lucinda to pull out her wand and own it, nothing!

ANYTHING ELSE? Nope!

[my-whumpy-little-heart]

The Zodiac Whumper - The Second Night

Another more filler piece to give context and lead up to Gemini! I’m tired while editing this so excuse any errors haha Continued from here. If you’re new, start here!

Tag list (ask to be added or removed): @whumpallday, @stxck-fxck, @thatsthewhump, @unsung-sympathy, @terriblethrillssss, @insanitywishes, @woodenhoneybee, @whale-whumps 

Content Warnings: Mention of creepy/intimate whumper and existing injuries

The night was restless. Shifting and tapping and quiet voices filled the space, nobody willing to sleep. 

Aries was dizzy from sustained pain they could hardly even feel anymore. The cramps in their muscles were painful at this point, twitching and spasming against restraints that wouldn’t let them move without further damage. The water Zoran poured down their throat hours before did nothing to quench their thirst, and only made their clawing hunger harder to ignore. 

But Zoran had insisted, “I can’t feed you anything until we get that barbed wire out of your mouth, now can I?” and at the perfectly logical suggestion of actually taking it out they only shook their head and walked away saying, “Patience is a virtue, Aries.”

Taurus awoke groggily for his meal, but refused Zoran’s offer to feed him the same way and resigned himself to eating spoonfuls of lukewarm oatmeal in relative discomfort. It wasn’t all that bad, really. He had to chew minimally to avoid aggravating the still bleeding cuts on his cheek, and that really did hurt, but the real torment came when he laid back down to sleep. “Laid down” being a relative term, considering there was no way to do that without extreme pain. 

Every movement stretched the injuries on his back, his sides, his front, his arms, and everything hurt so bad. The night filled with his whimpers and moans: attempts at easing his exhaustion that only resulted in further pain.

Nervous tapping filtered from Gemini’s cell, the ticking of a clock that counted seconds for eternity. Counting down to the coming morning, when she feared she may tap no more. 

“Who’s making that sound?” Cancer whispered, straining to figure out if it was coming from the cage next to him or one further down. 

“Oh, sorry, that’s me. Valerie, Val for short. Am I disturbing you? I didn’t even realize I was fidgeting.”

“Oh, no! You’re fine I just- I guess you’re nervous, yeah? With what they did to Rory today… Jesus.” Cancer ducked his head, leaning against the wall. 

“That’s obviously what they want, you know?” Gemini said, wringing her hands, “It’s all a damn show. They want us to be scared of them, so they show their claws.”

“...and are you?” His voice shook. 

“What?”

“Are you scared of them? Of tomorrow?” For a moment, Gemini didn’t say anything. The tapping started again. Then,

“Yeah,” her voice cracked and she swallowed hard, “I just watched a man get whipped half to death. How could I not be?”

“Then at least I’m not the only one. I get how you feel, Val. I can’t stop seeing the blood, and their eyes, and wondering what’s going to happen to me when it’s my turn. It’s terrifying.” 

“Don’t- I don’t want to think about that, Carter. Please. I just want to get out of here.”

“As if. I bet we’d sooner die than escape. And I might end up being ‘Cancer’ by the end of this anyway, so might as well start calling me that now. Way to go for them naming me after that awful disease.” Cancer laid down on his side to have a more comfortable existential crisis.

“You do know these are Zodiac signs, right?” 

“They’re what?” Gemini raised her eyebrows at that, almost forgetting Cancer couldn’t see her.

“You really don’t know? They’re based off of when you were born and are supposed to describe anyone with those birth dates…”

While she whispered and rambled on about the nuances of Zodiac signs, Cancer really didn’t pay attention. He was more happy to have taken her attention, as well as his own, off of what was to come. Next door, Leo was having an animated conversation with Virgo’s shadow, whose cage was aligned on the corner with theirs. 

“Come on, dude, what’s up? Want to talk?” They didn’t get a response except for the chinking of metal on metal. “Can I get a name? Pronouns? Come on, you gotta give me something to work with here. What’re you doing over there anyway?”

“Please, I don’t want to be rude, but I’m busy,” Virgo responded, voice in a breathy whisper.

“But what with is what I’m asking. Anything I can help with? There’s nothing to do here except, you know, wait to get hurt. Maybe I’ll ask for a coloring book or something when they come back.” More silence. Leo looked away from their cage instead, focusing on the “Scorpio” sign directly across the way. “Okay, fine. Alex! You want to talk for a bit?”

“Leave me alone, Kit.” He curled away from them, voice thick with what Leo liked to assume was emotion.

“Alright, got it, yeesh. Is anyone around here actually up for a chat?”

Sagittarius schooled her expression when they looked at her, trying not to make it evident that she was talking to Capricorn. Leo was nice, but she’d had enough trouble just picking up a conversation herself.

“I have a bad feeling about them,” he said, deep voice carrying only to her under the light conversation around the room. 

“What do you mean, Ethan?” Sagittarius eyed Leo out of the corner of her eye.

“I mean that Kit’s too confident. Alex, too. You wear your heart on your sleeve like that and it’s bound to get crushed, yeah?”

“That your act then?” she said, louder, “Quiet and complacent so they don’t target you?”

“Shut it; they’re probably listening somehow. It’s not an act, but you’d be wise to put one on yourself.” Capricorn commented with a condescending sneer.

“We’ll see about that.”

Coming back around to the front corner, Pisces curled around their knees in the front corner of their cage.

“I’m, just… I’m supposed to be last, right? And I can’t watch everyone go through this. It’s horrific and so, so wrong to do this to people. This happens in fiction, and that’s alright I guess, but this is too real. I almost wish I could just get my ‘turn’ over with, but I’m so scared. It’s exhausting. Don’t you feel like that, too?”

“Hm,” Aquarius grunted, back still facing them. He took a deep breath, fiddling with the fidget cube he still had, resting in the words for a few seconds before putting together a response. “Don’t wish that on yourself, Pisces. Just because other people are suffering doesn’t mean you need to throw yourself in harm’s way. Only more people getting hurt, then.”

“Don’t call me that; I literally told you my name already. And not to be a downer, but we’re all getting hurt anyway. What’s the difference?”

“...not necessarily. I can guarantee at least half of the people in here are plotting some sort of escape plan. Some of them will undoubtedly be worthless, but it’s not hopeless. We may live through this yet.” Aquarius stared at his lap, playing with the fidget cube he’d managed to keep secret from his captor until that point.

“Staying alive isn’t the hard part. I don’t believe that they’d kill us. The hard part is getting out unscathed.”

“Touché,” he shrugged, moving to lay down in the cramped cage, “We’ll see how it goes, huh?”

“Yeah…”

The night was restless. Even when the noise settled, sleep wouldn’t come with the constant apprehension tugging them awake. Morning wouldn’t come because night refused to end. And that was both blissful and exhausting in its own right.

Next part

[edgewoodrp]

Congratulations, Rey! You have been accepted as your original character, Orla Maeve. Please be sure to complete the steps listed on the New Member checklist and send in your account within the next 24 hours.

Welcome to Edgewood. There’s no place like home.

OOC INFORMATION

Name: Rey

Age: 21+

Pronouns: She/Her

Timezone: EST

WRITING SAMPLE:

The phantom pain prickled against her palm, just a paper cut, Orla laughed it off to her mother who asked questions about the ace bandage around her palm; you know me and pain- yeesh. Orla’s conversation with her mother played over in her head as she turned her palm over half expecting a pair of grisly fangs to be still embedded in her flesh. Sighing in equal parts relief and frustration Orla dropped her offending palm back to her side, a pair of dark savior eyes brought forth the end of her nightmare and the start of her journey. The journey you have to lie about; she mused bitterly hoping no one her family knew would drive by and see her standing expectantly at the vacant locked door of the shambles of the house that was supposed to be her home.

It was all taken from her. Still, I had a beautiful home; the guilt gnawed at her insides leaving her hesitant to take the first step inside her unknown past. Biatrice Maeve- the name rolled from her tongue, and suddenly she was happy that the family who raised her opted not to change her name, then she shook her head. They may have kept your name, Orla, but they still kept you in the dark. Far away from your birth mother with sealed records and shut down questions - yet they let you keep her name. A lump was forming in her throat- how could they let me be so close to my biological mother and still so far away.

Orla warred with herself, stuck in her thoughts, 

“No one has lived there in years young lady.” Orla lifted her gaze to a middle-aged woman walking a dog much too large for her small frame. 

“Oh- I was just looking around.”

Only miscreants go into this place, but you look lost.

“I’m not lost,” Orla responded before she could stop herself, a flush of pink kissing her cheeks as she cursed under her breath. 

“I didn’t say anything.” Freak.

Orla shook her head pinching her eyes shut wishing the woman would go away. Her thoughts were loud, assaulting and somehow carried an air of superiority that made Orla’s stomach churn. 

Orla tucked her hair behind her ears, “I’m sorry- I’m just…my uh mother used to live here.”

Biatrice. The woman’s thoughts were loud and surprised as she looked at Orla as if she were trying to find pieces of the mother she spoke of. She does have her eyes. Shrugging her shoulders than woman shook her head apologetically. “We wondered what happened to the other baby.” 

Orla’s brows furrowed, “The other baby?” Her birth certificate had been redone for her adoptive family; it said nothing of another baby. 

“Yea, the day she brought you girls home, there were two of you-” She was a freak too, wouldn’t let any visitors. 

Orla furrowed her nose, opening her mouth to protest, but instead blew out a huff of air. “Yea, well this is all I could find out about her. This address. I uh- I’m going to go.” 

Orla waved the woman off before stepping off the porch. She would later circle the block this time approaching the back entrance where it looked as if the only thing to touch the home in years was dust.

With a tentative touch, Orla pushed a window open into a relic of the past, of a life she almost had. Photographs of people she never knew adorned the walls and mantels, a woman she instantly felt pulled to; mom, she thought as she pulled the photo from the fireplace removing it gingerly from the frame only to have a folded letter fall to the floor. Carefully Orla unfolded the aged paper where words scribbled neatly a story that read like a fairytale turned nightmare ending in the revelation of two things; one she was not human, and two the story was just beginning.

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