#dw about matching the length!

[bloomgrove]

+*. @cryptiique + fjord ` { the ease of breath that enters his lungs now that he’s liberated his family with help from a found one is not entirely an outcome free of strife. he can tell from his eldest brother Colton’s, and his sister Calliope too, that defeat lingers in their eyes. they feel responsible to have nearly doomed the family to an eternal lacklustre life as a warning for the rest of whom may encounter the now conquered gorgon.

there’s confidence in knowing that Calliope looks at him with those eyes and feels shame for not being able to shield him from the horrors of what their family may have become but, it is Colton that holds haughty frustration. it wasn’t supposed to be you. that is the statement that is conveyed through his sibling’s gaze that hits him like an arrow through the chest and Caduceus knows that as much as Colton may clash with him now it is a shame that will heal over time.

they both knew that one was never meant to leave the grove, but who was Caduceus to deny people help? this thing between them as siblings will pass.

but what nearly shakes him to the core is how his half-orc friend is holding up through all that's happened. what began as an enlightening discovery of a childhood name wrought of unpleasant memories reborn into one that symbolises protection, everything else that came after seemed to wade into the ocean and start their descent into the dark fathoms below.

he felt the sudden weight of the air between them change the closer the Clays, his family, spoke of leaving the Stones to return back to the Blooming Grove. he felt the distance even when they were merely a feet or two parallel from each other before the campfire, with Clarabelle on his lap and his family and the Nein around them. he knows they both caught a glimpse of each other’s eyes but his smile, beginning to form would find a gaze averted and his heart nearly sank. did… he do something wrong?

for the first time in a very long time, Caduceus said nothing and let silence speak for itself. offering a facade of gentle gaiety to the people around him that night until he woke up the morning after having pranked Calliope, and observed his friends do some truly unspeakable things — moving furniture in people’s houses — in the empty abodes of the Stone’s still mostly petrified temple the evening prior.

but his chest doesn’t feel good and he decides to go walking along the shore, hood up and studying the few sand dollars he’s collected in the last half hour.

[drrutherford]

LOCATION — Old Marylebone Town Hall. DATE — September 28, 2024. STARTER — [OPEN to Rutherford Family]

Yvonne's civil wedding ceremony makes for a small affair (well, as small as possible, considering her husband's clan) and an uncharacteristically intimate gathering for his own family in turn. His father's associates are nowhere to be found, no string of friends and followers trailing after his sisters, and no posse of girls to make eyes at his younger brother, either. A refreshing turn, enough that Gideon is unabashedly relieved the bride and groom have chosen to save the fanfare of a church ceremony for a different date.

It's nice to see them like this, given the Rutherford rarity that is sharing in common happiness. Even the strained politeness between certain individuals or the inevitable awkwardness of some interactions has been worth weathering for the greater good of celebrating Yvonne's special day. And he's happy for her, enough to lift his own spirits when he sees the resolute joy in her smile, or catches glimpses of the adorable bundle that is his youngest niece, finally freed from the clutches of the NICU.

It gives him time to practice the baby steps, too; to see the love that surrounds him, all those promises of eternity, without succumbing to the forlorn ache beneath his ribs.

He's done well most of the day – greeted, smiled, chuckled, congratulated – eventually though, as the distractions begin to dwindle, it creeps back up on him. The inoffensive teasing about who might be next to walk down the aisle... The empty space beside him that would've been hers, if they were still together... And that damn ache he can't shift.

He peels slowly away from the cheerful throng, hoping to go unnoticed. His absence swallowed up by another member of either family, able to swing the social mingling better than he can just now. Ten minutes, that's all he needs. Ten minutes to get air, clear his head, and beg mercy from his memories. It's been four months, let me go.

[kanabiveil]

and thus, the cat hurries further up the tree.

naturally, kei could simply climb up there and grab ahold of it. to his dismay does he lack what fortunate superhuman abilities he had grown used to.

it was strange, to be without. the day in which he fused with aogami, granted powers unlike anything ever before ( and a rather intricate outfit to boot ! ) reminded him distinctively of those comic books dazai used to read. of superheroes, or magical characters, who would transform into their suits in bursts of light and so forth.

really, it was like that for kei. beams of blue, neon, explosions of light . . . was he supposed to come up with a catchphrase ?

" young man, " the voice rings in his ear. aogami was speaking to him. "the stranger over there with the pink hair seems considerate. perhaps try speaking to her."

he nods to himself. really, it looks as if he's talking to himself. slowly does his gaze settle on madoka, and for a moment, he stares. he's not quite sure what to say. others usually do the talking for him.

" ... excuse me, " kei eventually says. it comes as quiet. content, but ultimately, a touch distant. "there's this cat up the tree. the trunk is too long for me to climb on top of."

he gestures towards the cat. "my . . . friend let me sit on his shoulders to try and grab it. but we were still too short," and what a long tree it was. he really ought to get climbing. kicking his heel back and forth, he digs iceskate into the dirt. "i would appreciate your help."

would she want to try being a human tower, too ?

"we can try to stack again," an absolute stranger. . . "i . . . can help us, if we fall over and get hurt."

@puellamagita

[b3ast0fburd3n]

@badtrigger sent "Fun day at work, huh?" from Vaas to Eden!

Every day is like this, really. Everyone always looks at her like that, she always has to repeat herself or rephrase. Always puts in all the work to bridge a connection. But it's hitting especially hard today. Even Hayes seemed annoyed with her before she even woke up. It's the kind of day that used to end in childish destruction of cult property, but she has no such outlet on Rook.

Eden is much to strong to curl into a little ball and cry. She's far too smart to see any benefit in sobbing in her bed. So, instead, she makes her way out to the water. A nice little river within shouting distance of her cabin. The fact that someone looking for her could easily finds her eases some of the worry that breeds from rest.

Shiny black boots are discarded gently, left in a pile with her outermost layer of clothing. Eden adjusts her modified boxers with one hand, using the other to scratch at her collar bone where the wrap around her chest meets skin. Her clothes need a wash too. Maybe after a quick swim. When her mind straightens out.

The sun-warm water welcomes her happily, ripples and waves lapping at her tattooed skin as she steps through a practiced path on the river floor. She stops in the middle, only half submerged. Algae catches her toes, rocks scrape at her soles, small fish rush past out of fear of getting eaten. It's the most peaceful her surroundings have been in a month and it's still not enough. Something roars between her ears, a dull scream beating on the walls of her skull. God himself is yelling at her for something. Something her aching brain can't seem to conjure.

Eden sighs, pulling both hands out of the water to run over her head, wetting her hair and dripping down her face. The droplets are uncomfortable, touching her far too gently to feel like anything other than an itch. Rough hands scrub harshly over her damp face, trying to soak the uncomfortable wetness into her skin or shed the irritating layer. She doesn't notice Vaas until he speaks, the familiar voice making her whip around to address him.

She knows he's aware her work is done, she reported it directly to him, but the dread of being caught with her pants down throws logic somewhere into the jungle.

"I finished my work, sir- Do you need me to do something else?" Eden pushes through the water with difficulty, trying to force her legs forward without seeming too awkward or kicking up too much water.

[mechahero]

@viopolis continued from here

"Can't do that.", he responds, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. Admittedly, there's no point in doing so given what's coming next but old habits die hard. Something about one looking their best when they die or something along those lines. There is perhaps the tiniest amount of smugness present in his voice. He can afford to be at least a little proud of himself, can't he?

He never specifies what in the assassin's statement he was replying to. He'll just leave that up in the air for Hit to decide.

Where Hit seems irritated, Lambda is excited. And why wouldn't he be? A fresh and unique death compared to all the stabbings, gunshots, and generally being apart with the added benefit of getting a massive boost to his already burgeoning power? How could he not say no to that?

Of course, there too will come a time where he gains an eventual immunity to it (like with the aforementioned stabbings and gunshots) but why not take advantage of this while he still can?

So Lambda quits toying with his hair, sets his hands down to rest against the concrete barrier he's sitting on, and waits for death to come. "Y'know-" Because even before dying, he still can't resist being a mouthy little shit. "There's a really good sandwich shop in town. Maybe you should get some food in ya afterwards? Maybe you won't be so cranky then."

[etruatcaelum]

[ @allbains | corsac // for cinder ]

Give us a week. It’s already been two. If those children moved fast enough, they’ll be in one of the other academies by now, and the lamp will already be locked safe and sound inside another vault. Cinder grits her teeth.

Atlas, or Shade. If she were to hazard a guess, she would place her bet on Atlas—but this is too delicate an operation for gambling.

She has to be certain.

Even so, Cinder really cannot afford to waste one more week laying low in the shadows of this starveling under-city. Her injuries have healed; the memory of her unscarred face is still haunting newscasts at irregular but frequent intervals. She has nothing to gain and much to lose if she stays–

—but nothing ventured. Skulking upward to lurk around Haven Academy is a greater risk, but one that stands to offer greater reward. Salem had not been at all pleased with the news of Sienna Khan’s death; and that was before Menagerie had rallied around the Belladonnas and scraped together a militia to answer the coup.

There’d been something on the news last night about a new movement, a revival, announced with a flourish alongside a raft of new faunus-rights legislation the Mistral Council has been persuaded to consider. And one of the broadcasters had mentioned in an aside that the militia is being housed temporarily in the shuttered campus, on the council’s lien and over the protests of the academy’s wealthy human neighbors.

Cinder knows dry kindling when she sees it.

The police barriers have all been taken down by now; the campus stands open to the public and unguarded, save for a few affectedly casual sentries whose wary glances ease when she smiles, waves, lets them see her claws.

Not quite human either, is she?

Then it’s a simple matter of folding herself cross-legged onto a bench in one of the less-traveled niches of the campus, half-hidden by a barrier of flowering shrubs, to pick slowly at her dinner and wait for someone suitably unhappy-looking to pass by. It does not take long.

“You know,” she calls out silkily, “I wouldn’t have expected Menagerie to come to the defense of a human institution. I doubt anyone in Mistral would disagree.” Her head tilts. “One would think the humans whose precious academy you saved would show a little more gratitude, hm?”

[mariocki]

William Hartnell guests as a gangland boss and leader of London's underworld, Joss Crawford, in the pilot episode of Dial 999: The Killing Job (1.1, ABC, 1958)

[aconites]

open to: males. 35+

plot: bodyguard/m.ob boss’ daughter. basically juliet was almost k.lled by an enemy of her father’s and your muse, who is her father’s right-hand man, was chosen to watch over her. she has a tendency to push his buttons.

muse: juliet rossi ( ana de armas ) 30. m.afia princess. test muse.

alternative fcs: phoebe tonkin, camila queiroz, adelaide kane.

note: please don’t like my starters & i use beta!

𝘼 𝙎𝙈𝘼𝙇𝙇 𝙃𝙐𝙈 leaves the brunette’s lips as she takes in her appearance in the mirror of what she gathers is the eighth dressing room she’s visited today, turning to the side to view the dress she’s wearing from a different angle. ❝ i think this might be the one! ❞ she calls out, smiling to herself as she did so. it wasn’t unusual to see juliet shopping in a fancy designer boutique on a thursday night, but she was sure not many other patrons had a bodyguard waiting right outside their door. it’s been almost a month since the a.ssassination attempt by an enemy of her father’s had taken place and since then, the woman had been under the watchful eye of his security team – more specifically, your muse’s. she hadn’t been too keen on the idea of having a bodyguard be with her constantly, especially one that would be moving in with her until the threat was taken care of ( something that still hasn’t been completed )  but when she laid eyes on him, she thought that maybe she could have some fun with the situation. it started by walking shamelessly around her luxurious condo with barely any clothes on after he moved in, trying to get a reaction out of him in any way that she could. flirty comments and provocative remarks were never shy off her lips but the man didn’t seem to be at all phased. yet that didn’t mean she stopped trying to break his tough exterior. it’s exactly why she’d force him into yet another shopping spree today, showing off all the risque little dresses she could find and hoping to test his resolve. she wasn’t exactly sure what her endgame was, but she definitely wouldn’t complain if they ended up falling in bed together. opening the door to her dressing room, she stepped out while holding a red dress in her hand, turning to give him a look at the outfit she had on which showcased her exposed back. ❝ what do you think? should i get this one in black or red?❞ she smirks, waiting for his reaction.

[ofchrysoprase]

"Have you ever been so awkward that you allowed something to happen for ages, just because you feel like it's been going on for so long that it would be more awkward if you said something about it?" Dante started off; though not usually the one for small talk, he apparently had one of his oversharing moments just to break a more awkward silence.

"I guess that sounds really vague, but here's the thing - sometimes I fail to avoid my neighbor when I go to work in the morning. Trust me, I've tried spending longer to drink my coffee, but it's like she's psychic, okay? And I don't know what exactly gave her this idea, because it definitely wasn't me, but basically she thinks my name is Harold. And she calls me that every single time I see her when I leave my house. It's been six months and I still haven't corrected her and at this point I'm scared to do so."

[quartarcade]

underworldsarcade asked: ‘ don’t try to get up. ’ from the medic to critter :]]]

And yet it attempts to, finally succumbing under the restraints of its trap, tied down by harsh rope and wires with a good several needles filled with what it assumes are tranquilizers stabbed into it, despite its groggy and exhausted state. Not out of a desperation to escape but rather because of spite and defiance as glistening golden claws dug effortlessly through the ground. Alas, the drugs make it so that all of it was futile.

Maybe it shouldn't have tried to grab that piece of human meat conveniently placed on top of a small pile of dirt surrounded by the deserts foliage. Ah well, you live and you learn. Hopefully live.

It's odd, usually it complies to the idea of being under the blade on a cold operating table. Perhaps all those weeks, months, maybe even a year at this point out in the wilderness has given it a sense of freedom and rebellion rather than be the obedient little experiment it once was.

Critter huffs through its nose, slit pupils glaring daggers up at the man before it while its hairless tail slowly sways back and forth impatiently and the tapping an index finger hits the dirt below it. Alright, what now? He smells familiar, familiar yet all too foreign and that alone seems to unsettle it which only made it react with a snarl baring teeth. It figured something like this would happen eventually, either some crazy bastard was going to manage to hunt it and put it down, or it gets recaptured. Back into testing, back into a hell within hell. And damn if it wasn't going to go down without a fight.

Could be worse, at least it isn't dying. Maybe.

[bbiwon]

moon jaewon is the type of a guy who says he's not afraid of anything.

be it the feeling of needle passing through layers of skin and leaving ink in its wake, or the wind hitting heavily against his body when he's speeding 75mph down the freeway without a single thought inside of his mind. that confidence he instils into himself by repeating that he's not afraid is something that's pushed him through life for all of these twenty-four years he's spent walking on two --- well, four first --- legs, an enforcement to his bones like no other. that play-confidence manages to convince himself it's there and that it's real.

so of course, when chaeri proposed 'killing some time' and 'checking what the mall has to offer this year', he accepted her offer without really thinking much of it. when their steps took them down the line for the ferris wheel, he's kept quiet. mostly because he would never admit of the feeling that slowly creeped inside his stomach. but, to be fair, he wouldn't need to. not when there is a faltering sparkle within the dark of his eye with each gaze the notorious ferris wheel steals from him; like he's staring at a monstrous creature of flesh and bone, and not a metal construction that's taken a little under a month to be installed.

if asked, he'd just say that it doesn't interest him.

"say... chaeri." he speaks in a way that's over-compensating with its flatness, like he's trying to obfuscate the quiver of his voice, like he's attempting to appear nonchalant and unbothered before the subject of his saving grace. in reality, he's just grasping at the straws in a desperation; just as he is grasping at her elbow, mild grip that speaks more than any word could do. "i'll give you my phone and you take a picture of everything with it when you're at the very top? in return, i'll get you as many portions of kkwabaegi that your heart would possibly eveeer want. sounds like a killer of a deal, yeah?"

@chaerisoda

[once-was-muses]

@lanternslight | 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑮𝑬𝑫 𝑰𝑵𝑨𝑷𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑳𝒀 .

﹟ coming in pants﹕  sender  causes  receiver  to  come  in  their  clothes / for bro’dee!

Oh, how quickly simple teasing spirals out of control.

When Bro'Dee agreed to attend the Honor Guard meeting with Hal, it was under the presumption that his presence would ease the tedious event for the human. Of all the possibilities that may transpire, one he did not consider is Hal touching him under the table, subtly rubbing circles into his thigh and palming at his crotch. He tries his best to stifle the surprised squeak at the first brush, to simultaneously not draw attention and silently scold Hal, the challenge only rising as clever fingers continue playing at him. His hand moves to lightly grab Hal's wrist, Bro'Dee giving him a sidelong look, but that only earns him a smirk and redoubled efforts.

He should be mortified- and part of him is- yet he feels himself react with clear interest to Hal's tormenting, his legs taking it upon themselves to part slightly and give his partner more access. Which immediately makes it that much harder to keep himself composed, to not give away this little game- a notion which undeniably excites him, much to his confusion. His hips rock subtly forward before he can stop himself, grinding against Hal's warm hand, twitching and leaking further in his (fortunately stain proof) uniform.

Gripping the arm of his chair, Bro'Dee tries desperately to ignore the electrifying touches, focus on his breathing, the slight chill in the air, the material in his hand. He trains his vision on the center of the great table, letting his eyes lose focus amidst the featureless plain, taking a slow inhale before letting it o-

He's instantly pulled from his impromptu meditation when deft fingers find the imperceptible seam between his uniform's top and bottom, quickly plunging southwards to drag up his slick slit. Bro'Dee involuntarily squeezes his eyes shut at the stimulation- right where he needs it but so frustratingly not enough- a small whimper escaping his tightly closed lips as he tries to reangle himself, coax Hal to give him more. But instead, using the plentiful slick already pooling there, the other's hand moves to wrap around his cock, kneading it for a moment before slowly running his fingers over the length and back again. It's awful torture, Bro'Dee's thighs starting to tremble in his effort not to wildly buck against Hal, the knot low in his abdomen tying painfully tight.

And then oh gods, Hal's face is so close to him, whispering something no doubt filthy that his blood is rushing too hard to hear, the pressure within him nearing too much. He wants to lean against the other Lantern, grip him instead of the chair, hold on for dear life as he takes him apart so perfectly, bury his face against his neck, bite into him, clamp his jaws down and never let go until-

As soon as something leaves Salaak's mouth- a dismissal?- Bro'Dee's world is set spinning as Hal suddenly pulls his hand free, yanking the dazed alien up from his seat and dragging him from the meeting hall, out into the winding stone paths that make up the more inhabited portion of Mogo. For a few moments, Bro'Dee just blindly follows after Hal, feeling like his brain was left behind them in their hurry. And then it abruptly catches up to him, along with their recent activities, and he can't help the groan that leaves him.

Digging his heels into the ground and pulling Hal back, he quickly ducks into a semi-hidden space between two close structures and slams himself against his human. All his self control gone with the air in Hal's lungs, Bro'Dee instantly sets to rutting against his hip, desperate for any and all stimulation he can get. His lips crash against Hal's soon thereafter, moving as rough and demanding as his hips, unable or unwilling to keep his flat teeth plate to himself. Arms wrap tight around him, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the backs of broad shoulders, filthy mewls and moans muffled into Hal's mouth. It's so good, it's too much, he needs more, he can't take it, he's almost there-

The only warning Hal gets is Bro'Dee thighs clamping tighter around him before a scream is directed into his chest, the alien's lower half desperately convulsing against him with abandon. It feels like a high tension wire has been cut, his hips stuttering with each wave of release that tears itself from him, undoubtedly coating the insides of his thighs and the front of his pelvis. His legs start to feel weak, boneless once the ecstasy finally starts to ebb, clinging to Hal with a very real need to keep himself upright, laying his head against a shoulder as he catches his breath, warm and safe with him...

What exactly just transpired hitting him light a boulder, Bro'Dee suddenly whips his head back up to stare at Hal, eyes wide and face quickly flushing a brilliant purple. "I-I- I- Oh gods, I didn't-"

[atrcus]

starter for @dendrahrah

The academy's music teacher found himself wandering the schoolyard. The blonde was dressed sharply as ever, his shorter figure making for a striking sight against the setting Paldean sun. He wasn't just out for a simple stroll, of course. Taking in something so leisurely wasn't in his nature at all - especially during what were technically still working hours. Always with a purpose, he was seeking out someone - the school's well known and very well liked Battle Instructor, to be exact.

Though at times he found Dendra's personality a tad overbearing, being someone on the more serious and calm side, he held a great respect he had for her skills and her wisdom in all things combat. Battling someone so knowledgeable, who already had a Type advantage over his own team from the get go, made for invaluable training. He held quite a lot of pride in any wins he'd achieved against her, and was eager to even the score from their prior encounter.

The two were like chalk and cheese, from their respective personalities right down the Pokémon they specialised in... And yet, they held a similar passion for Pokémon battling, always wishing to grow and learn as much as was possible. All that is what made Gerald seek Dendra out specifically, as he had many a time before. As was expected, he found his boisterous colleague at one of the schoolyard's battle courts, and made his way towards her.

"Dendra," came his call, in what would be a familiar near-baritone. "Any room for a sparring partner?"

[heirloomeds]

surprise starter for: @gccdwitch !!

Several weeks of rest was necessary for Fallon's physical and mental health. She was creatively bankrupt, exhausted on all fronts and in desperate need of an extended vacation. After all, she made enough money throughout her career( that's lasted for almost three decades) to pump the breaks for as long as she wanted to. It was just a matter of stopping the train and hopping off for a bit. The first person she ran to see when she returned from Mexico City was her closest friend, Lucille. What better way to make an entrance than to invite her on an unnecessary shopping spree? She waved enthusiastically as she saw the blonde from a distance, running as fast as her body would allow. "Hi! Oh my gosh!" She dropped her bags to the floor and ran into the other's arms with a force. "Lucy! I missed you!"

[splittingshifts]

“…Ambulon? You’re- You’re alive?!”

"...Aid."

[ He'd woken up cold, in the dark, with a vague itch trailing from his helm to his hips in a neat line and a burning ache in his chest. It had taken him quite a while to realise he was in cold storage, and then even longer to kick the door open - his legs weren't fully cooperating, he felt clumsy and off-kilter - and use his hands to "walk" along the ceiling of the tiny compartment until the slab he was on rolled out completely into the open air...

...of the morgue.

After that things became a numb blur. It was only instinct that painstakingly dragged him, stumbling and limping, along the back hallway between the morgue and the medbay. He'd come out in the little room where they did autopsies; First Aid had been the only person he'd seen when he finally opened the door between there and the medbay proper, the effort of pushing it open causing him to nearly fall to the floor. ]

"First Aid." Ambulon is currently trying to pull himself up and over to her with the help of the doorframe; there's still something very wrong with the gross motor control of his legs. "I'm--" Fuzzy memories swirl in the back of his processor, but something outside his control throws up a wall before he can fully grasp them. He can just remember the Legislators boarding; after that is an empty grey void.

"Yeah, I'm alive." He loses the battle against gravity, slumping down until he sits leaning against the doorframe, blinking up at her. "Was I... not?"

[htchhiker]

yesterday was a bit of a mess. or at least , he imagined it was , seeing as by the time he actually made it back home it was well after dark && bubba had four fresh bodies in the freezer. nubbins got a hollering && a couple hard strikes with whatever drayton had on hand for leaving his younger brother alone ― but he reckoned in the end it turned out alright , seeing as they had plenty of meat for the coming weeks. even so , the sawyer son had slipped out come day break to go check some of his traps he'd left out by that dilapidated old house that had been left to rot not too far away. sack slung over his shoulder , nubbins trudged through the brush , whistling an old tune that had been in his head since the night prior. that is , until he heard a fussing somewhere off in the distance.

&& well , well , well ! ain't THIS a catch he wasn't expecting to make ? it's @killmenots , the fella he'd met in that green van the day prior , the one whose photo is currently charred && kept in the pouch around his neck. he laughs loudly , almost cruelly ― quick to scurry through the mess of branches , form lithe && nimble , squeezing through gaps , crossing the distance in no time at all. the guy seems startled , frightened even , && that reaction fills nubbins with a warm feeling. it's excitement ! && head twitches , features scrunching.

❛ now , w ― what are you doin' all the way out here ?? ❜ he asks with a giggle , kneeling down in front of the man's wheelchair && looking up at him with that same , open - mouthed grin he had prior. ❛ i though you was in a hurry ?? ❜