#Plotted Starter

[sabers-and-other-ocs]

@voxuli Yeong and Hei Ran

Yeong and Hei Ran were certainly happy to be reunited, even if it was in Hell. However as Ran learned more about how life works for many Sinners, including for her brother, she was sure to steer clear in dealing with making any kind of deal with anyone though spent a lot of free time going with Yen to the TV studio when he needed to go to work. She wanted to learn as much as she could about who owned her brother's soul and how she could potentially get it back.

For now though she lurked and stayed out of the way as most of the time it was pretty standard sets, staff and treatment for normal shows, Dramas, Soap Operas, Comedies that reminded her of some when they were alive.

She had heard rumor that the big boss of the studio may be visiting for a routine progress check on some of the shows being filmed. Yeong thought little of it, he was used to it but Ran hasn't been in Hell but six months and only recently began tagging along so she was curious.

[mcuntainbcrn]

@ever-winter [plotted starter]

Another day, another branch springing forth - no doubt her forebears would be proud at her efforts to uphold the integrity of their family’s business, but how disappointed would they be if they knew the reality…that she saw such endeavors as a mere tools to further her own aims at vengeance? …then again, given the creed of her bloodline, perhaps this too would be a source of pride.

Plain clothes today - those that knew, knew better than to so much as give her a passing glance as she oversaw the case displays and the arrangements of the glimmering gemstones in their settings, no doubt the sight would be dazzling to most, but it was really all mathematical to her, a mere front to entrance and draw in those who sought out tokens of love, honor and self indulgence.

The soft open would be tomorrow, the grand opening next week, and no doubt those on her list of targets would also wind up clients - of any plausible outcome, this was the one that threatened to put a smile on an otherwise lifeless face; scarred fingers grazed the squared shape in her back pocket as she moved towards the back of the salon and out the rear exit, pulling the carton loose and shaking up a single cigarette, moving to light the cherry when a dull roar made her pause.

So much screaming…why? Where was it coming from?

Casually, she meandered to the edge of the alleyway that led to the main drag, noting a lone figure sprinting away from a throng of shrieking women - all this over one person? …they didn’t seem angry at them, no - if anything, they seemed enthused to the point of almost appearing feral - how irritating.

Best to get rid of the source and lead the crowd away before her workers wound up distracted and scratching the new glass display cases; she waited, silently and perhaps a bit too comfortably, cigarette still held lightly between her lips as she seized the moment of opportunity and darted a hand out to close around the wrist of this wild mob’s prey, dragging him behind her, through the door and closing it behind them.

Her freehand rose to her lips to indicate he be quiet for a mere beat, plucking a card from the counter and pressing it into his hand as she removed her jacket and sunglasses, briefly exposing the scar cleaving through her right eye as she slid them on to his face and quickly exchanged the garment she removed for the coat he currently wore, patting down the pockets quickly and lifting the wallet, keys and phone from them and setting them down beside him, “Exit out the front, call that number in a few days - your belongings will be returned to you then.”

Without another word, slipping the coat on and lifting the hat off his head, she twisted her hair up until it fit securely beneath as she ran back out the rear exit and into the corridor - she had been feeling a touch cooped up anyway so she might as well get a jog in; as soon as she was on the street, she whistled sharply between her teeth, drawing the crowds attention as she broke out into a run, leading them off, still screaming their heads off, repeatedly yelling a name that kept becoming a distorted mess.

‘I swear - I don’t think I’ll ever understand fan culture.’

[willedwoods]

@wrongtrain

How long had it been? How many months had passed since he abandoned his post in Gear Station? Not like it was something he willingly took, he agreed but his hands we tied. Emmet was going to leave whether he said he'd take over the Subway Boss position or not. There was even a high chance the keys would be sitting on his doorstep when he left his apartment the next day. His kindness and passiveness taken advantage of one last time.

But he caved. Despite his best efforts to convince his boss he wasn't fit for the job, his knowledge of trains and how the subway actually ran from a business perspective and just in general. Of course there were plenty of people that worked alongside Emmet and could take on the technical aspect of things-- He never wanted to stand out or be in change of things, Alex had been happy just coming to work everyday and battling.

That simple and steady lifestyle was ripped out from under him. The massive amount of paperwork that had already been piling up, Even with his help before Emmet ran away in search of Ingo. Everyone's eyes on him. The people who spoke behind Emmet's back now directed to him, despite being relatively well liked before this-- People always needed someone to direct their frustrations to. The forced smiles to passengers became more and more common. Maybe this was why they both threw on such a performative personality at the station--

Dark eyes turned from the side of the volcano to the challenger approaching when he heard footsteps against metal, dragging him from his thoughts. Thankful for the distraction from things he wanted to forget, regrets of running away just like Emmet who he felt betrayed by. No one blamed him for fleeing, right? The only people who even knew where he went were his parents, apologizing over and over to them while on the boat to Orre, he didn't even say good bye to their faces.

His face still somewhat obscured by the Subway Boss hat that had been specifically made for him by Elesa at Emmet's request. Though he wasn't made until several weeks after his boss departed. White, like Emmet's though the usual red-brown band was replaced with a black, Gear station emblem removed, kept safely at home, for some reason he couldn't bring himself to actually toss it. Somewhere deep down hoping that maybe the twins would be reunited and he could be welcomed back and forgiven.

A vile feeling sank to the pit of his stomach when the challenger finally came into clearer view, he couldn't mistake him for anyone else-- Except his brother perhaps but it was him. Why was he here? Why was he in Orre? There was a time long before the former Subway Boss left in search of Ingo he had told him about Celebi residing in Orre, but Celebi wasn't--- His eyes glanced to the Friend Ball attached to his belt, obscured by his long white and black coat, It wasn't supposed to be on Mt. Battle. And it wasn't like they were near the bottom, it took not just skill but time to make it up here.

Alex wanted to scream, He wanted to run up to his previous employer and hit him as hard as he could, but feet didn't move from the far side of the large red 77. Instead he just reached for two pokeballs, pressing the buttons on the front and having them enlarge in his shaky hand. He wasn't one for physical violence but he was going to hit him with everything he had, Make him feel every bit of frustration he had being left all alone. Sleepless nights full of stress and confusion. Weeks where he didn't even leave the station, opting to just sleep at the desk or office sofa. All of his effort, all of the work he was putting in, and what he thought was allowing Emmet to find Ingo-- He was off playing! Taking an extended vacation.

"Congratulations on making it this far, but your tracks will be ending here I'm sorry to say! Now, Begin!"

He shouted from across the platform, his phrasing still remaining from his time as a Subway Boss. The pokeballs thrown into the air releasing Meganium and Volcarona.

[agentsanders]

@mr-tony-stark

A door opened, and a big metal dog walked out of the room and stopped as it saw Tony.

The robot was larger than any normal dog. It had the size of a lion and appeared completely robotic with its metal skin and led eyes. But the robots movements were far from robotic; they were smoth and easy exactly like the one of a real living dog. It even tilted his head a little to the side as it scanned Tony before it walked past the Avenger and down the hallway.

[flameandindifference]

@lucifertxt

It not had been very long since the boy had been brought down to Hell, home where he belonged. Only two and a half, the child had adapted rather well and had taken his demon form upon arriving. It wasn't too difficult, considering that he had been struggling to keep it contained anyway. The Prince was relatively well-adjusted, quiet and playful.

And very attached to his Father.

Wherever Lucifer was, there was a good chance his son had followed after him with exactly zero prompt to do so and was eager to participate in whatever the King of Hell was doing. It was news that had rocked Hell for months, shock and surprise there was another royal child at all.

But news tended to travel and often reached ears it were better off never reaching.

A fact made clear by the rather curt and clear letter that had ended up on Lucifer's desk, bearing golden handwriting.

Heaven wanted a meeting. Urgently.

Lucius, while young, is quick to notice his father walk past him looking rather serious and even anxious. His guardians, Razz and Tazz, share a look as the child calls after him confusedly.

"Papa...?"

Where was he going?

[silverxwords]

@tacticturn liked x for a starter!

These days... These days there wasn't much for Megatron to do. Certainly, he'd limited access to the datanet, and his holoscreen worked-- but he couldn't reach out to anyone, and all incoming messages were screened.

He read. He read a lot. Watched Cybertron rebuild itself from the windows of his cell apartments. He wrote. He deleted what he wrote. The guards brought his rations weekly; he didn't try to talk to them, and after a while, they started to pay him less mind as well.

The War was over. He'd been defeated, and the proof of that was the lack of any sort of arms or weaponry, the stasis clip around one wrist. He could take it off, if he wanted to. Probably.

[delightindarkness]

Matt had never intended for Wanda to come home with him the first time....and he hadn't expected it the second. Now, though, he couldn't get enough of the woman curled up next to him in his bed.

Sightless eyes fluttered closed as his lips caressed her skin, kissing and gently nipping over her chest before moving lower.

"I'm gonna make sure there's not a single part of you that is going to be untouched by me," he breathed against warm flesh. One hand held him up as the other splayed over her thigh.

@hcxcd

[respondedinkind]

Plotted starter for @noblehcart (McCoy)

There's no sting left behind on his skin, no puncture wound, nothing that could tell an unknown eye about what has happened a short while ago. Yet it itches, just a bit, and Khan finds himself idly scratching along the material of his black shirt; He stops the motion as soon as it happens, then folds his hands onto the small of his back.

Time seems to go by even slower when held behind bars... or rather, a plain transparent wall of matter that won't let him through. He eyes it, as he has done before, spotting the ghost of his own reflection before his blue eyes focus on what's behind - an empty room. Equipped with cameras and security systems as well as two armed security guards waiting on the other side of the closed door.

The silence is deafening, almost. Khan usually prefers it, having peace and quiet surround him, but it feels maddening at this point, even though his appearance does not reflect it. At least not obviously so - he does press his lips together occasionally, allows his jaw to work a bit, accompanied by nostrils flaring as he in- and exhales, the scent of metallic compounds and plastic heavy within his nose.

He knows someone is heading for him before the person even opens the secured door; So he does not flinch when it happens, his blue eyes already taking in the sight of the one he's met before once the unknown yet familiar man is lifting his own gaze.

He could, but Khan chooses not to say a word. He simply stares at who must be the doctor of this ship; He's taken the blood sample before, after all, and seems to be close to the Captain as well as that Vulcan he's spotted a moment or two ago. The color of his shirt also reveals a few things in that regard, but Khan doesn't really mind about such things.

What he is interested in, however, is what will be coming next. He knows his blood isn't ordinary, it's not even human, so there's that. If that doctor currently standing at the opposite side of that transparent wall is at least somewhat talented at his job, he must have realized such by now.

So Khan waits - curious about what's going to happen next. Because something is going to happen, he knows that much.

[rhaegxr]

@ladicsa said: ❛ We don't choose our destiny. It chooses us. ❜

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐎 sought to manipulate him, she proved to be their end. To witness the RAGE that stoked the flames of her revenge was a surprisingly satisfactory sight for the Dragon King, which is a rarity in itself. Scarcely anything satisfies or even amuses him as of late. There was seldom time even for that which unfailingly offers him SOLACE when existence itself threatens to crush him under its weight: The sound of his silver harp. He'd effortlessly restrained the red priests through the invisible force of MAGIC that suspended them in the air—Rendering them a writhing mess that clawed at their necks in a futile attempt to break the hold. Before that last breath left their lungs, with a flick of his wrist, the wretched priests were thrown at her feet. ❛ It is not me they have wronged. Their fates belong to you alone now, ❜ he'd stated.

Following that marvelous display of her fiery magic, he invited her ( Kisa, the woman claimed to be called ) to remain for as long as was necessary in Dragonstone. Although King's Landing is where the Iron Throne stands as his official seat of rule, Rhaegar prefers the dreary castle shrouded in the smoke of the Dragonmont—His power is STRONGEST there, which allows him to transport himself as needed between the island and the capital in a moment's notice... Much to the DISMAY of the Small Council that he allows to oversee day to day matters of the realms in his steed.

The privacy is also an important reason for his choice, but the mystery of just what the King delved into thanks to that isolation, fueled the rumors ( some false and others merely exaggerated ) about his DARK interests. It further instilled the fear that keeps nobles and smallfolk alike quiet and submissive. Once, he would've changed that, but he was no longer that Prince who serenaded the people in the streets. The Long Night will fall and if he is not powerful enough to end it, their fear of him will seem INSIGNIFICANT in comparison. If it is the price to pay for a better chance, then he shall pay it, for the sake of life itself. This dark power he taught himself to wield shortly after his own affinity to fire magic manifested, is nothing more than a means to seeing his purpose fulfilled.

It was time after observing his FASCINATING guest, learning from what he could assess from a distance, that Rhaegar approached. However, the inquiries that he was silently eager to voice were not spoken, lest she distances herself out of a self-preservation. For what he has discerned thus far, it was best to coax the answers in more SUBTLE ways. Amidst the overgrown wild roses between tall, dark trees found in what is known as Aegon's Garden, the conversation was steered to his ancestor—How mayhaps he believed it was his fate ( and that of his sister-wives ) to conquer the Seven Kingdoms, for his progeny to guard his legacy for the better. It was also perhaps why Targaryens still held the throne, despite the turmoil that has visited his family in the past, which almost destroyed their line entirely on more than once occasion. His own BIRTH was one of them.

❝ Destiny chose my ancestor, as it has chosen me. ❞ Rhaegar concedes with a nod, both of his hands gathered loosely behind his back as they walk side by side. Indigo gaze remained forward even as he added more to the statement in a leveled, almost DETACHED tone. ❝ But few are aware of what their destiny is. ❞ A brief glance in her direction is all he spares. ❝ Are you one of those few? ❞

[liibertysdream-archived]

it is the first day of wedding celebration. if you asked steve, it was a horrible time for festivities. especially with his kingdom on the VERGE of collapse. but he needs this alliance as his bride to be. a woman he knows nothing about, save for her name, adelyn storm.

steve rogers has pulled out his finest clothing, slicking back golden locks, accentuating square jaw and piercing eyes, the color of the sky. dare he say it, the prince is nervous. anything to keep his kingdom from collapse.

a herald STUMBLES through the hall, followed by trumpets. a pitiful fanfare that draws rogers from his thoughts. his bride to be is just on the other side of the hall. any moment now, he's about to lay eyes on the woman he's meant to SPEND the rest of his life with. steve used to imagine marrying for love. now, he must marry for survival. @hellsrazed

[oifrit]

[ BREAK  IN ]

"Fuck." Clive cursed under his breath. The event was highly-guarded, their family and friends-of being highly wealthy and from all different walks of the political sphere. If anyone wished to steal a moment with the Rosarian upper-crust now was the time. And he was on the outside thanks to a purposeful mix-up with his mother. She had given him the wrong details, likely with the intention of making him look bad for having missed Joshua's birthday.

Present in hand and not one to simply take a kick laying down, Clive's mind was already ticking. He shrugged off his jacket and shed his tie. Like this he looked somewhat like one of the caterers and he knew damn well the casual look would be a thorn in his mother's side. Even better.

With all of the confidence in the world he strolled as though he was meant to be there. Because he absolutely was. But in doing so, he bumped arms with another. The man looked like he might actually be from the catering company. "... running late too, huh?" Hopefully he wouldn't be outed before he even set foot in front of security.

[ssolessurvivor]

starter for @smertzimy

He was stalling alongside the butterflies welling in his stomach. All he had to do was go into this room, that’s all. Why did it make him immobile? The stiffness of those bandages wrapped around his neck, hiding the stitches from view, well...that was one reason. 

Come on, Logan...

With a quiet exhale, Logan wandered in, hesitating only a moment after crossing the threshold upon seeing how full it was in here. Well, full considering nearly all the chairs in the circle were claimed. Another breath and he wandered over, hands held together, picking that nail on his thumb that he so turned to now for coping. 

He never used to before. 

A brunette had a chair open beside him, and he looked friendly enough. By the look of him, he’s an amputee. Inwardly, Logan found high interest in the specs of that arm, but he’d speak on it later. Or not. 

“This one taken?” Logan asked, hand on the corner of the empty chair while glancing at the brown haired man for permission. The leather of his own jacket kept him warm enough in here, masking the ache of his collarbone still mending and often cracking if he used his shoulder too much. He shifted from foot to foot, listening to the soft murmur of strangers attempting small talk. Trying not to turn tail and run. 

This would be good. It would be fine. 

[the-last-doppelganger]

@mystictragedies asked : “We were doomed from the start. A lost cause. A losing battle.” ( no humanity!stefan)

"Were we?" The question falls easily from Elena's lips, something sharp twisting in her heart as she hears the hopelessness of his words. "Because that isn't how I see us Stefan." Her voice becomes softer as she walks towards him, closing the space between them in a few short steps. Her hand finds his jaw of its own violation, thumb stroking along his cheekbone.

"Because we've done this before. We've fought this before, and I have faith in us. I have faith in you. What Klaus did you is horrible, but I know you'll break through it. We're not doomed Stefan, you've saved me more times than I can count, and I don't care what I have to do, I won't just abandon you. I won't just leave you because I don't think we're a lost cause. I think we're just in over our heads right now, but I know things will get better, they have to."

Because she doesn't know what she'll do if they don't. She's already lost so many people, already seen so many people die (for her), that she can't lose Stefan. She won't. The most important thing though, is that whenever he allows his humanity to flood back in, he'll be plagued by guilt by everything he's done. Everything Klaus made him do, and she had no intentions of leaving when he might need her.

[tlacehualli]

@florafound

It was entirely possible for Sombra to just order whatever she needed and have it arrive at base but there was just something about actually being in a grocery store that set her more at ease. It wasn't as if she particularly distrusted online shoppers but she could be particular about certain things - which was why she was at a grocery store, now, perusing over a somewhat depressingly small selection of Serrano chiles in her attempts to find ingredients for a caldo de res.

She was disguised of course; this close to the Venice base, she didn't want it to be particularly known a purple haired magenta eyed cyborg was running around. Bad for business. The long beige coat, white hat, and big sunglasses made her look oddly fancy for a shopping trip - but it hid the cybernetics along her spine and on the side of her head, the port in one of her wrists, and the soft glow of purple from her eyes.

After a long moment of just waffling over her decision, she reached out to pick out four of them when she sensed something at the edge of her consciousness - in her mind's eye, where her own awareness bled into her cybernetics. She was always cognizant of machines around her; she could sense every single cellphone, every cash register, all of the security cameras, some things beyond. This, though, it felt different, more like the Widow - alive - so her eyes snapped up just in time to pick out a kid. Slip of a thing and she wasn't the best judge of age anymore when it came to young people but she couldn't have been older than 18. Real quiet, surreptitious, ducking the same cameras Sombra was aware of to pick out canned tuna and some bread.

It made her smile a little bit when the teen ducked out quickly, evading the employees' half-hearted attempts to catch her (wasn't any of them paid well enough to try that hard) - and the hacker cut the tension by getting to the closest cashier, setting down all of the missing ingredients she'd found for her soup. "No te preocupes, voy a pagar por lo que robaron." Easier to find someone who spoke Spanish around these parts than English, and the cashier just smiled at her tiredly and added the total to Sombra's.

Tracking the kid wasn't too difficult of a task - thankfully, she seemed to have no idea that Sombra was aware of her - but the walk was still so, so much longer for her with two full bags of groceries in each of her hands. A good two blocks before she found the right alleyway, filled to the brim with gatitos and that same, odd kid filled with the same, odd electrical buzz that drew her like a beacon.

"There you are. I guess I don't mind buying tuna for the neighborhood cats." Her tone is soft, absent of it's usual deceptive and hardened edge - she could hear the sound of cats eating away at the canned tuna while the kid bit into her bread with a crunch. She set down the groceries and winced, rubbing at her hands before she removed her hat and the sunglasses to tuck the latter away in her (? stolen probably) purse so her cybernetics could resume their magenta glow.

[pleinsdemuses]

Plotted starter for @thechiyonosakenyc

In the quiet solitude of the room, Sarah finds herself alone with her father's best friend, a man she's grown unexpectedly close to, despite the unspoken boundaries that loom between them. She didn't mean to fall for him, the man her father considered as his brother. He had known her for a long time but it's only recently that she developed true feelings for him. She's always found him attractive, he was an handsome man and she was a teen but now she was an adult and aware of her decisions and the complications their relationship could create.

She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for a conversation that she wishes she could avoid. She steps closer, her eyes locked with his, searching for some sign that he might relent. "I know it's complicated, but what we have is real. We can't choose who we fall for, and I can't just turn off my feelings for you...."

[nohalosinhell-archive]

@dark-ambition said: 

“…I take it you want some form of bussssinessss with me? Given the way you’ve been staring at me for the lassst minute or so?” (Pentious to Andrealphus)

Oh? He’s been caught-- not that he was doing anything at all to be subtle. Yes, he has been keeping his eye on the serpent for a moment or two. This must be the one that’s making such a reputation, and while Andrealphus is never one to think too highly of sinners, he simply has to see for himself if this one’s worth even a fourth of the credit he’s been given. 

“Quite so~” The peacock’s feathers puff out just slightly as he speaks. “I hear you’re something of an inventor. Is that correct?”