#don't match length

[tonibeltran]

x. status -> closed for @hairpintvrns (deacon) x. location -> somewhere in oak gardens

The room Antonio’s chosen to dedicate to his smoking is depressing. He’d thought the size of it wouldn’t matter, so long as there were sufficient windows, but as he sits on one of the armchairs he’d procured from some overly-animated guy on Craigslist (“Whoa! Aren’t you the guy from Amethyst? What are you doing buying off some sketchy site? Can I get a picture? Legend!”) and blowing out of one of said windows, he’s starting to think it might be less helpful than he thought. It’s the smallest room in this godforsaken house, but when it’s only populated by an inordinate number of bongs and unrolled joints, the size of it feels a little suffocating.

He has to do it in a room that Moon doesn’t have access to, though, because he’s many things, but he’s not someone who would endanger his cat. No matter how often she meows indignantly at him through the door. “It’s for your own good,” Toni calls out to her every time, and every time she meows back at him like a jilted teenager. He sighs, figuring he’s been locked in here getting high for long enough — he may as well come out of there and give her the attention she so desperately craves. Just as he kneels on the armchair cushion to properly close the window, his nose wrinkles in distaste at an unpleasant smell that wafts in from the outside. “What the fuck,” he mutters, closing the window in a huff. He leaves the weed room, sparing a pet for Moon before making his way out to his front lawn. 

He stands there, befuddled, taking a deep breath. The stench is not as prominent here, he notes. This may be a product of how high he is, to be honest, but the thought doesn’t stop him from following his nose like a hound, away from his front lawn and down the neighborhood’s sidewalk. He’s not sure just how far he gets into this sniffing debacle when he realizes he’s stopped smelling anything, and is instead stranded in some random house’s front lawn, probably looking insane. 

Before he can flee, his peripheral vision catches sight of a familiar figure — tall, handsome, and the architect of many nights of pleasure. Deacon Edwards, of all people, stands near this particular front lawn, looking just as handsome as the day Toni had first laid eyes on him. It’d been intoxicating, to witness such a prominent figure simply be, something Antonio had a lot of trouble with even back in those days. He thinks if he really puts his mind to it, he can probably remember what Deacon tastes like, though that seems like an inappropriate thought to be having in the middle of the day on a stranger’s front lawn.

Treading carefully, he approaches the other, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “Deacon?” he calls, making sure the sight of him is not also the byproduct of the weed. “Deacon Edwards,” he grins. “Either you don’t age or I’ve accidentally stepped through a time machine.”

[ofanjous]

tagging: anyone !!

location: the chapel within hôtel saint-pol 

     it had been some thirty years since isabella had departed her homeland for a throne she no long coveted and a husband no longer compendious. within that time, she had returned to the country of her birth only once, then she had been a queen as radiant as the sun in splendour, basking within the regality of her status. now she was naught more than a pitiful exile, shrouded by grief, vexation and an all consuming hunger for vengeance. the experience, may have been humbling to most – a prime example of how fortunes wheel could cast even the mightiest into the murkiest of waters – yet for isabella, the turning of the wheel had only heightened her own hubris. ardent in her belief they would one day bask in the sun’s rays once more, she had fortified, exerted patience and watched henry’s court as though a predator stalking its prey, awaiting the opportune moment to strike. 

such a moment had finally arrived, after twenty long years she had the opportunity to flex her political prowess within the court of her french relatives. her letters of support may have gone unanswered in the past, but to hear her pleas parted from her own honied lips was something no king nor emperor could disregard. whilst it was true that her position had been weakened since the death of her son, her husband still breathed and as greatly as she wished their roles had been reversed, at the very least he was still a direct threat, if only in theory alone.  it was for them both that she had taken to her knees in prayer that morning, the quietude of the chapel soothing her tormented soul and offering guidance for a woman who had long-since lost any semblance of sainthood. with her final declaration of devotion uttered, isabella made the sign of the cross upon her person, raising to her feet in order to light a candle for the slain martyr sprung from her own womb.

“ hasten to tell me what should be so important as to disturb a queen at prayer.” she spoke to the figure looming within the shadows. there had been a time when tears stained her cheeks upon her solemn reflection into all that had been lost and she would have confronted any trespasser, friend or foe, with the damnation of fire and brimstone, lest they gaze upon isabella in anything but her queenly regality. tears had long since ran dry, the drought of emotion hardening to icy glaciers. 

[deputyzed]

@wolfbeacons sent: ❝ do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in right now? ❞

HER HOME IS COMPLETELY DARK when she returns, still riding the high of the day's victory and the pleasant buzz a couple of celebratory drinks at the Spread Eagle had left. Today marked a huge triumph for the resistance. John Seed was dead, and with his death, there remained a flicker of hope that they may just succeed in washing away the stain left by the cult. Though there was still so much work to be done, especially in the Henbane and the Whitetail Mountains, the Peggies' influence in Holland Valley had all but crumbled. Now it was just a matter of time before the other regions followed suit and were liberated from their respective Heralds. The fight was far from over, but tonight was not the time to plan for the future, tonight was a time to revel in the glow of her achievements, leave the hard work for tomorrow.

Perhaps it was the influence of the alcohol that had distracted her, or her own smug pride that kept her from taking complete stock of her surroundings before getting too comfortable for she did not notice the dark shadow lurking in her kitchen. Not when she first entered her home, nor when she turned her attention to the fridge while humming a cheery tune to herself as she perused its contents. It was not until a soft, but familiar voice cuts through the darkness that she became acutely aware she was not alone. 'do you have any idea how much trouble you're in right now?'

At first her mind refuses to believe the sound, the voice which haunts her nightmares is right here with her in her home, and not being blasted over some radio, or over the crackly static of an intercom at a Peggy outpost. More pressingly, she refuses to acknowledge the truth of the matter. She'd let her guard down, she'd become too comfortable, and had missed all the signals that someone had forced themselves into her home. Except this wasn't just a random thief in the night, this was him.

He was perhaps the most dangerous brother of the Seed family. His military background, army of Chosen, and understanding of the human psyche made him an intimidating target, and a deeply fascinating character, moreso than the rest of his family. He had put her through his trials once already, had played his sick games with her mind, and now she had walked right into his trap. Goosebumps crop along her arms, the hairs raising on the back of her neck as she stands frozen in place. A small, prideful, part of her is glad that he cannot see her shocked expression, she would not let him see her fear. Another, more logical, part of her realizes that her back is turned to him, making her all too easy prey, weak even. And you know what happens to the weak.

Quickly, she grabs a knife from the wooden block on her counter as she whirls around to face him. flipping on the lights in the process. The dim light reveals the large figure of Jacob Seed sitting quietly at her kitchen table, as if he had come to visit and was waiting all too patiently to be served his dinner. Like Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf, except there was no woodsman to save her, and she refused to be made into his next meal. Brandishing her knife in front of her, she glares at him with all the hate and disgust she can muster. She does not answer him, but instead asks a question of her own, her voice filled with venom. Her own form of rebellion in the face of danger. "Is that why you're here then? To punish me for all the trouble I've caused?"

[sammybishop]

Tagged: @jcktaylcr

Location: Trident Fitness

Admittedly, she's been watching the other woman train in the ring for several minutes now. Call her a glutton for punishment or a masochist of the highest order, there's something inherently fascinating in the way Jack works. How her feet dance across the floor at the expense of whatever opponent was foolish enough to step in the square with her. Maybe not dance, gentle grace isn't her forte, but she moves with the same lithe, regulated purpose. Aware of her body and always three steps ahead of the other person–– once upon a time that amazed Sam, too.

Nostalgia's a fickle bitch.

With treadmills and leg presses long forgotten, the blonde leans against a pillar and stares just long enough to get herself caught. While she hadn't necessarily intended that piece, she also did very little to prevent it. Their previous run-ins over the last six months hadn't panned out beyond hurt feelings, and the ground between them still wobbles unsteadily, threatening to swallow at least one of them up before their time is through. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were born with those gloves on."

[flamesque]

₊❏❜ ⋮ i'll chase you to the ends of the earth. ⚬𓂂

@dolasach

He is used to it; however, that didn't mean he accepted it.

Rafayel sighed as he let his head rest against his palm, the same thing being drilled into his mind by the endless sea of words spewing the history of Lemuria and the world on the surface repeated like a broken record from the elders. He seemed to be falling asleep and was immediately scolded for not paying attention.

Evidently, something came up that had the elders leave the vicinity for the time being and this served as an opportunity for Rafayel to escape. He had attempted in doing so a few times, but he was sure that this time he would be able to be successful. 

A blue fish swam around him and held his hand out, allowing the fish to swim over his palm. 

"Shall we head to the surface? It's a little boring right now and I'm tired of hearing the elders saying the same thing over and over again." 

The fish continued swimming over his palm before seemingly directing him toward an opening to which he was able to squeeze through. It was then he realized that he was out of the city walls of Whalefall City and was able to swim to the surface.

He thanked the fish before it disappeared back through the city walls and Rafayel didn't have to think twice as he turned away from Whalefall City to swim up to the surface; however, before he allowed himself to fully come out, he swam slowly as the damn words from the elders rang in his head. 

"The world on the surface is dangerous, even if those people worship our Sea God, there is a chance that someone will try to capture him."

"As the previous Lemurians have..." 

"Rafayel, you must never venture out to the surface world. Your people are here, that is all that should concern you." 

And the annoying part of all. "The Sea God will one day meet the Goddess of the Forest, and when that day comes, should he fall in love with her, it will be the beginning of the downfall of Lemuria."

Rafayel always thought it to be those stories to be something a parent would tell to their child to make them listen. And besides, Rafayel had always been, not only a rebellious soul, but one of sheer curiosity. 

Once he peeked out from the water, he spotted a woman by the shore. And he had seen a few other humans before, but something about her was different and he couldn't help but to swim towards the shore, closer to her. Who could she be? For some reason... he needed to know and while he doesn't know why he needs to, he simply just has to try; in a way, it felt as though there were residual feelings, feelings that weren't from him and that in itself baffled him.

So without thinking, his mouth opened to speak.

"Who might you be? You don't seem... human to me, although you do appear to be." He tilted his head briefly before letting out a laugh. "Ah, apologies. This is bold of me, I will admit."

[cozylittleartblog]

random note about king on that animation, i got really lucky with how simple his animation was and how clean my sketches were to begin with that i was able to do very minimal cleanup on what i had sketched (and add back. his horn. it's supposed to take place just after echoes of the past, Oops) and call it done that way instead of having to redraw the entire thing like i had to on his dad

first sketch > line cleanup > nearly final animation (i'd added slight eye movements last-second but otherwise that's the final)

[phantomyre]

@aonemanarmy

It had been several days since Sephiroth had locked himself within the basement of the Mansion. Time no longer seemed to have any meaning to him. But neither did the lives of those who anxiously awaited his return. There was a different air about him, now. Darkness had slowly crept into his heart-- a corruption that even caused the candles to tremble as he paced the room, alone with his thoughts. And yet he wasn't completely alone. Further down the small cloister and tucked in a cold chamber, another man was battling his own darkness-- a pandemonium of his demons, clamoring for control over their host. Two men within close proximity of each other, facing a corrupt entity who wanted ownership of their minds. Only one had chosen to unite himself with this powerful darkness and claim it as his own. Feeling the disturbance in the atmosphere, Vincent quickly sat up from his coffin. Something was not right. He was accustomed to the various monsters wandering the mansion. But this aura wasn't coming from an ordinary monster. A looming sense of devastation tugged at his chest, calling him to investigate. Though not quite understanding this feeling, Vincent arose from his coffin and made his way towards the library. The air seemed to get thicker the closer he moved towards his destination. There at the center of the library, a tall man with long silver locks was hunched over a book, several more scattered throughout the room. That hair... it couldn't be him.

There was only one person he had seen with hair that color. And though it was brief, he wouldn't forget the son of that beloved woman. Keeping to the shadows, Vincent pressed his back against the wall around the corner, remaining out of sight should the man venture out. Questions ran through Vincent's mind. What if it was Sephiroth? Why was he here, and what was this eerie aura about him? He could hear the man let out a depraved chuckle. As quiet as it was, it sent a faint chill down Vincent's spine. If this was indeed Sephiroth... The gun strapped to his thigh suddenly felt burdensome.

[fisheito]

this is what i was cookin up while on nu:vacation [avoiding event spoilers] my dream.....my hopes....... EVERYONE PUT ON THE PRINCESS GOWN🗡

[faithhearted]

@honorhearted said: "Can we speak of this another time? I'm busy." (for Mary!)

This was not how Mary envisioned her life unfolding. Ever since she was a child, she had strived to be proper, to be viewed as a good and Godly young lady. ‘Be kind’, her mother had told her, ‘kind and fair and devout and true. These are the makings of a desirable woman.’ and so she’d obeyed. Even now, over and over again Mary told herself to be kind, fair, devout, and true, and your husband will love you.

But she had not married the man to whom she’d been promised. Instead, she’d wed his brother, who had taken her hand out of some sense of duty or responsibility though he never spoke about why.

No matter how kind, fair, devout, and true she endeavored to be, her husband did not love her. He’d done his husbandly obligation and together they’d conceived and raised a child, but still, he did not spare her an ounce of affection.

Instead, Abe’s eyes lingered upon Anna Str.ong, the woman he had always loved and loved still. It tore at Mary until her heart was in tattered shreds. Anna was everything Mary was not.

Anna was inconsiderate, tempestuous, fickle, and irresponsible. She too was a married woman and yet Abe wanted her. In truth, Mary once utterly despised Anna for this, and that hatred ate at her gut until she was tired of the way that hatred felt. Instead, all her energy was now spent on ensuring her family's survival.

A fortnight ago, Mary had been brought to the Contin.ental Army’s New Wind.sor camp for her protection, and for her son’s, and Abe was off once again, in another covert plan to enlist in Arnold’s unit. While Mary supported her husband’s revenge against Sim.coe, she was once again left alone to wait for a man who did not want her and who might very well never want her.

Despite all this, Mary worried for his safety. Early that morning, she’d set out to Major Tall.madge’s tent to inquire about Abe’s well-being only to be met with unattentive indifference to her presence. It was something she was used to but refused to tolerate further.

"Can we speak of this another time? I'm busy."

“We will speak of this now,” she firmly insisted, snatching the quill from his hand if only to force him to look into her pleading eyes, “Please, Major, you must know something about how he’s fairing. Will you not permit even five minutes to ease a wife's concern?”

[alex-perry]

who: open to everyone

where: in front of the asbury hotel

Alex stood outside The Asbury Hotel, squinting at the revolving doors like they were his arch-nemesis. How many times had he been here this week? Four? Five? He'd lost track. At this point, the front desk staff probably thought he was lurking around the place for a heist—or worse, a Yelp reviewer.

He tugged at his perfectly ironed, oatmeal-colored button-down and checked his Tissot watch, even though he wasn’t meeting anyone. Okay, Alex, he thought. You just need to get inside, blend in, and no one will question why a random guy is inspecting the cornices again.

To be fair, this wasn't his fault! He was sent here to find out how the fuck The Asbury Hotel had managed to capture that effortlessly cool boutique hotel vibe, and it wasn’t like you could just Google “how to make a hotel look cool without spending the next Avatar movie budget.”

Spotting someone in front of the hotel, Alex saw his opportunity. He walked toward the person, flashing the most non-threatening smile anyone could muster. "Hey, are you heading inside?" he asked, voice an octave too high with fake casualness. "I, uh, forgot something in the lobby the other day." Which wasn’t necessarily a lie — he'd actually forgotten to inspect the ceiling beams up close.

[beauclary]

WHO: Open to Anyone WHERE: Rosie's Diner WHEN: March 6th / a little after 6pm

To look at him now, it's almost difficult to imagine that there was a time when Beau Clary had the infectious sort of charisma that could engage an entire room. Hell, an entire stadium, at least once a week for a good chunk of the year for nearly all of his life. He's almost a shell of that man now ― at least in mind and spirit, if not in body. It's almost comical, actually, for someone so physically imposing to hold himself so small ; a hardened pebble in the sole of the Wexley, jammed into the grooves. Out of sight, out of mind. To his credit, he's done a commendable job at convincing himself he prefers it this way anymore.

But he's been lured out of the quiet lonely isolation of his apartment under a moral obligation to appease the kind hand that feeds and now ― now ― Beau stands in the middle of Rosie's Diner looking a bit like a deer in headlights. He feels a bit foolish, really ― it's not as if he doesn't know these people, even if he doesn't really know them, but he feels awkward and bumbling, like a perfect stranger stumbling into a family reunion. In spite of the fact that he doesn't really know where to go, he feels inclined to get out of the way, so he locks his gaze on the nearest empty chair and quickly makes his way over.

Looking up a bit sheepishly once he's seated, Beau clears his throat. ❝ Hi. Oh, hell, Ihis, um ― I'm sorry, this seat weren't taken, were it? ❞

[bxllatrix]

OPEN STARTER — THE WEDDING.

Bella was on her best behaviour today, although the urge to scream, break into frustrated tears, or hex someone all threatened to suffocate her. The weather was, of course, perfect, her sister was stunning, and the overall ceremony had been... mind-numbingly heartwarming. Something she would think if she had a heart to warm, at least. Bella, obviously, wasn't jealous nor annoyed at all. She didn't care that love filled every nook and cranny of the blasted place. She didn't care about the ease at which Narcissa's friends chatted amongst themselves, always knowing exactly what to say and when to say it. She also did not care that everywhere she turned, she was forced to offer empty platitudes, greetings, and — merlin forbid — compliments.

Which is why after multiple hours of pointedly not caring, Bellatrix leans over and picks up a canapé, shoving it into her mouth and biting down so hard her teeth clack together. She sees the other person, but on theme for today, does not care. "Stop looking at me," she says calmly and slowly, "or I will snap your arm in half, and I won't use my wand to do it."

[moshebehar]

SETTING ― Latte Love, afternoon ! AVAILABILITY ― Open ! ( Capping at 4 ) !

It was peaceful. That had been Moshe’s initial impression of Blue Harbor when he’d finally taken the plunge that following Nilay halfway across the world had warranted. There was really no telling whether he'd make the decision to leave any time soon― he doubted his perpetual wanderlust would pull him away from Blue Harbor considering the fact that he seemed to find more and more reasons to stay with every passing day. It wasn’t as though he had a deep aversion to packing up and leaving if that was something that needed doing— it was more that his time in the United States had offered him a freedom he’d not yet allowed himself to experience in life and he was all too willing to take advantage of it as long as he possibly could. Freedom that had found him, at that present moment, shifting in a cafe chair outside of Latte Love, grading papers for the most recent assignment he'd given his first year students. 

“Ah, good try, mate,” Moshe found himself murmuring under his breath as he wrote a few detailed comments beneath the final paragraph of the paper in question. He admired the effort his students were willing to put into their work and hoped it was in part due to even the barest hint of respect they’d developed for him since he’d become their teacher. He found himself blinking owlishly at the sight of a phone number scribbled at the end of one of his student’s papers and shook his head firmly as an almost startled laugh erupted from him just loud enough to catch the attention of someone near him. He raised a hand and smiled sheepishly, “I’m sorry about that– I hope I didn’t startle you. Perhaps you can help me? What’s a fellow to do to turn a student down incredibly gently when they seem to have a crush on him? I’m really quite concerned I’ll accidentally reduce her to tears or something.”

[angstfactory]

OPEN STARTER: #HELLISHERE

HE LEFT YOU! HE LEFT YOU! HE LEFT YOU! You're so pathetic, he couldn't wait to get away! HAHAHA!

"Get out -- GET OUT --" Any control Aiden still had of himself, was tenuous at best. The man could hardly push out the barrage of negative thoughts, each one preying on fresh open wounds he hadn't even begun to try and heal from. Whatever got inside, whatever trying to take him-- it knew of all that, it knew ways to break him down in the hopes he would be too weak to fight against the possession anymore.

But oh, was he trying. Perhaps the only tether left to keep his sanity that moonlight ring on his right hand, specially designed to maintain the werewolf's often volatile emotions. The man stumbled past others, sweat licking at his brow. A cough escaping now and then, as the smoke billowed in over the town square. So much was going on, it made things all the more difficult to keep hold of himself.

Oh come on, you're a killer, aren't you? Even your own family didn't stand a chance. What else are you holding onto? There's nothing. There's nobody. You're alone. YOU'RE ALONE! Old, alone, done for!

Suddenly, Aiden's entire body seized up -- like some puppet on a string -- and he flung forward, crashing through the window of one of the shops. Inside, he was pushed into racks right and left, things coming off the counters and shelves, breaking and smashing. To an outsider, it would look very much like Aiden himself was intentionally rampaging through the store like some wild animal, destroying everything in sight. He grabbed the end of one shelf and gave a vicious yank-- his wolf strength causing it fling across the floor and knock over several other shelves, glass items shattering. Stomping over things, he ran back outside, this time straight for a brick wall. Aiden landed hard against it, grunting in pain as he slid down and held himself, threat of tears stinging his eyes -- though it wasn't necessarily from the physical pain of it all.

He could hear someone approach and Aiden's face turned in their direction, hardly seeing. "Stop-- get.. get away from me," the man begged in soft pants, for their sake. What little faith he'd had built in himself in these past two years... it was quickly fading. He didn't believe he could hold on, and God help anyone nearby.

[n8-shaw]

who: open when: early on during the thanksgiving dinner where: the commons

There were few events Nate went to at Ogden College without dragging his feet, complaining the entire time. And while this was certainly no exception, he was at least mildly more willing to attend the thanksgiving dinner. He had attended all four years so far, looking for any reason to avoid seeing his family, and honestly, the food? Fucking good. Rich ass school with cash to spare must've figured they could spare some effort for the misfit students left behind on campus for the holiday.

But this year...was different.

He hadn't totally anticipated it, hearing families were invited and not thinking much, considering it didn't change his situation either way. As always, he texted his younger sister (and only his younger sister), confirming he'd be staying on campus for the holiday, and that he'd see her at Christmas (a lie, hopefully, if he could manage to find a way to stay away from the Shaw family again). So when Nate walked in, the sheer amount of families that were there caught him a bit off guard.

Not nearly as off guard as the person currently walking towards him, though.

Nate stood his ground, even if he was slightly blocking the entrance, hands shoved in his pockets while his face grew stormy as he stared at his older brother. "What the fuck are you doing here, Liam?" he said through his teeth once his brother was close enough, making no pretense that he was happy to see him.

Liam offered him a mocking smile, reaching up to clap his younger brother on the shoulder in greeting. "Good to see you too, little brother," he chided, glancing at the person entering the hall behind Nate, brushing past him due to the Shaw brothers currently blocking the entry way, his smile turning charming in a way Nate's never quite managed. "D'you know where we can get a drink?" he asked them conversationally, even potentially flirtatiously, clearly already aware Nate would not be forthcoming with any information.

[starbcrnsx]

closed starter for @tragcdyfallen cassian ft nesta

Sitting in the gym he let out an irritated sigh. His first interaction with Nesta had failed. She didn't remember who he was nor did the meeting end the way he had hoped it would have. She had stumbled away from him, almost running and ordering him to leave. He had called her Lady Death in harshness for it felt as if she had pierced him in the heart. My partner, the words still rang through his mind as he worked out. He knew that without memories things would happen but he hadn't expected it to hurt as much as it did.

After he left Nesta and the bar he had put up flyers around Ivy Cove. Flyers for a self defence class for anyone who was interested. There were four different ones he had set up. One for all men, one for women alone, one for both together, and one that was for the lgbtqia2s+ alone. He wanted a time slot for anyone who was interested and a grouping where each person would feel comfortable within, he didn't want someone who was interested not to feel like there wasn't a place for them. Each class was on a different day and the doors were open for anyone interested.

Finishing his set he let himself relax against the machine as he waited, it was almost time for the women's group to start. He wasn't expecting a big turnout but he did hold out hope that at least someone would show. He held out hope that by the cauldron's blessing that Nesta would show up. He didn't hold his breath but he waited patiently, silently hoping as he stared off into space.