#feel free to assume connections if you'd like

[makaylahoffmann]

Who: Mack and OPEN (1/3) Where: Tails n' Trails When: March 2024

Despite the wind blowing, it was a beautiful March afternoon as Mack stood off to the side of the park, away from everyone, as she watched Nala play around with some of the other dogs. Nala, her nine-year old Golden Retriever still had some of that puppy-like energy so Mack enjoyed brining her down to Tails n' Trails to get some of it out. Plus it gave Mack a chance to get some fresh air, whether she was with just her dog, or her kids or husband too. Today it was just her and Nala, enjoying the sun filled afternoon. She went to send a quick photo of Nala over to Ethan she she felt a sort of wet snout against the leg of her jeans. Kneeling down to put the dog, she started talking to it, "why hello! and who do you belong to?" She said as she rubbed the dog's chin and looked around for the owner, hoping it was just some random dog that was looking for a friend.

[daphxharlow]

Location: Delwyn's Dish Up Status: OPEN "Ya'll come back now, ya'hear."

A faux giggle fled the blonde, her jaw tensing as she pivoted from a booth packed with chortling neanderthals. Pale features twist in unmistakable revulsion. "Fucking assholes…" The words are spat viciously through clenched ivory. The night shift was really starting to work her nerves. Sure, the clientele was far less demanding than the day dwellers, but it was a normal occurrence for the blonde to have to deal with drunkards.

I'm too sober for this shit.

"Awe, come on, darling!" Where you off to?" The mocking tone of her accent trailed after the retreating waitress, her sights set on some sort of salvation. Spotting a lone straggler, Daphne took it upon herself to slide into the vacant vinyl across from them. The kiss of the diners' lights cast shadows via the windows, leaving her in a haunting neon glow.

"Look, you ain't gotta talk to me. But if those jerks ask me to say that stupid line one more time-" Under the shelter of the aged tabletop, digits curl into her palms, fists rubbing against the thighs of her uniform. "I'll use my discount on whatever you order.

[kieranhqs]

for: @bhqextras, open location: café of your choice

"hey, so, uh," daniel offered a sincere but unsure smile to the person seated at the next table, fidgeting with a button of his shirt. "i'm pretty sure i've been stood up and i bought, like, ten pastries that i'll never eat." it was very unlike him to even attempt to put himself out there like this, but his new year's resolution had been that very thing and the present was as good a time as any. "-- so, if you're down you can take whatever you like... and if you maybe want some company, my day just became painfully free." he just hoped he didn't look too desperate as he pushed the box of goodies towards the edge of the table.

[8ractured]

❪  ✟  ❫  𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 ⸺ 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 : the light doesn't reach the corners ⸺ 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒 : footsteps echo louder than they should ⸺ 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊 : 🎧

THE MAZE FEELS DIFFERENT IN THE DAYLIGHT . . . not safer, just strange — like something pretending to be real, something aching in its roots to guide lost souls. the hedges stretch tall on either side of him, too neat and too symmetrical, casting no shadows despite the way the light filters in. the gravel underfoot crunches with each step, too brittle, too loud, too much of an echo in the hush that's fallen over everything since the announcement. he hadn't meant to come this way — not really, anyway, but he found himself here, surrounded by green too deep to be natural and paths that all seemed to lead somewhere slightly wrong. the air is colder than it should be — biting, unforgiving, with sunlight that doesn't reach the ground, doesn't warm the earth below. it carries him, his mind threading through everything and nothing all at once, before he realizes he's been walking for several minutes now, maybe longer, he isn't sure — time is confusing here, somehow much too quick and much too slow all the same.

he thinks back to last night, how he swore he had seen the lights lining the hedges all flicker on even though no one was supposed to be out here — how he had seen someone standing in the middle of the maze, silhouette shadowed, but somehow had managed to meet their gaze despite not seeing eyes. he tells himself it doesn't mean anything, that he's just tired, exhausted from recent events and that his memories are playing tricks on him again — like they've done before, like they continue to do, always making him question things. yeqing slows, feeling a tightness in his chest that he can't quite shake, the pressure that's been building since the moment he stepped onto the cold earth beginning to press in on his ribcage. he hadn't meant to come here, but found himself here nonetheless — walking in unnatural silence, stretching too long, too wide, filled with the kind of absence that feels like he's being watched. it's almost like the space is too aware of him, like the air itself is holding its breath.

yeqing stops altogether when he hearts it — not a voice, not exactly, but something folded into the quiet. it's like a thought someone tried to speak through a broken speaker, like metal scraping over tape. 'don't follow the frame. not all of you came back.' it whispers, slipping beneath his skin and burrowing into his bones. it unravels into nothing and his breath catches in his throat, body aching, slowly turning on the ball of his foot, the tension in his limbs so sharp it borders on pain. one moment, there's nothing there, and then the next, there's a figure standing just beyond the next bend — partway obscured by the hedges, somehow seeming too still. yeqing blinks once, twice, pulse stuttering, convincing himself that whoever is standing before him must be real. " . . . did you hear that?"

[cj-emhoff]

Who: Anyone Where: Asbury Hotel (Rooftop Cinema) Cap: CAPPED

"Thought they were playing Mean Girls tonight—" CJ sighed out the menthol that surely wasn't allowed within whatever foot radius, the balcony's edge distance enough. Obligated to explain himself to the nearest ear why he'd stick around being the lone single guy smoking up a storm watching The Parent Trap with all the families and their little ones running amuck, "Love me some Lilo." he said through a light laugh. "Not ten year old Lilo though—you know, just uh, gotta get that out there."

[pixelwhispcr]

*  # 𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝙾 𝙰𝙽𝚈𝙾𝙽𝙴 ; feel free to assume connections .ᐟ‍​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ *   # 𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽﹔ local convenience store near the gyeogang street lofts .ᐟ‍​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ . 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐓 𝟑 𝐀.𝐌., but that was part of the charm. the hum of the fridge, the occasional rustle of snack bags, the cashier looking like they regretted every life choice that led them here—it was all part of the experience.

sooji, of course, looked completely at home as she stared at the cup ramyeon selection with the intensity of someone making a very serious decision. finally, she let out a deep sigh and turned to the person beside her, holding up two options.

“be honest,” she said, voice hushed like it was some deep, forbidden secret. “spicy chicken or kimchi jjigae? choose wisely. this is life or death.”

before they could answer, she tilted her head, a grin stretching across her visage. “actually, wait—what did you grab? let me judge your choices real quick.”

[5eraphism]

❪  ✦  ❫  𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 ⸺ 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 : the sand swallows sound ⸺ 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒 : the waves move but there is no tide

THE SEA LOOKS LIKE IT COULD SWALLOW HER WHOLE . . . not violent, not chaotic, but patient, like it's waiting. waiting for her to step too close, waiting for her to come closer, waiting for it to crash down on her lithe frame and sweep her out to sea without so much as a shred of hesitation. the beach stretches empty, the sand brittle beneath her bare feet, crumbling where it meets the darkened tide. she always finds herself here when things seem too much, too overwhelming — when she can't grasp the harsh reality that is closing in on her, when her breath gets caught in her lungs and her ribcage aches, trepidation so often squeezing her bones and turning her veins cold. she has come here so many times, but even the wind here feels strange now, too quiet, curling through the threads of her tangled hair without purpose. there is no sound aside from the distant, sluggish lap of the water pulling back into itself over and over and over again.

hyejin stands with her toes sunk into the chilled earth, the brittle hitch of her own breath stumbling out of her lungs — the hem of her dress is stained with dew and salt, arms folded loosely against her middle. not quite shielding, but not quite holding herself together. the skin along her back burns — angry, fevered, searing and scorching with each small movement — but she does not touch it, does not reach for it, and has done little to soothe the injury. she knows too well what her fingers would find if she scraped them along the skin there. three lines, too neat, too deep, carved into her like a signature that she will never be able to erase. her throat tightens, and it takes everything she has to hold herself upright.

mouthofthemountain. the words linger here, curling against the softest parts of her. a curse. a warning. a secret. and still, the ocean offers no answer to what she dreamt of that night. she feels her lips begin to tremble, tasting the salt on them as she pulls the flesh between her teeth in a poor attempt to ground herself from everything. the courtyard feels miles away, but she swears she can still smell the stone, still feel the shape of the weeping woman behind her like a second spine. her breath fogs in the morning air as she stares out at the horizon, but hyejin finds she is not alone. the shoreline may be empty, but behind her — in the dunes, between the sway of wind-wilted grass and crumbling fences — someone approaches, footsteps somehow heavy against the sand.

she steps backwards, letting the dark water that swirled around her ankles recede. even as she retreats it feels too cold. too still. and somehow, even with her leaving, still feels as though it's waiting. she turns then, unsure if the salt she tastes now is the sea or her tears. perhaps both, so she gently pulls at the sleeve of her sweater and dabs at her eyes as the other approaches. she exhales, shaky, uneven, far too loud in such a small and unmoving space, trying to press forward past the figure without raising too much suspicion. "s-sorry . . . i'm just about to, er— h-head back."

[tashamadams]

Starter: Open (5/5) CAPPED Where: Winter Market When: December 2023

Tasha, absolutely loved everything about Christmas in Merrock. As she grew up in California, she never experienced a true, winter, let alone a white and cold Christmas holiday. But since moving to town four years ago, she had loved everything about the town during this time. So as she perused the booths of the Winter Market, she spotted a booth to make gingerbread houses. Sitting down at the table, she started to make her's, "hm, this sort of looks like a gingerbread shack rather than a house huh?"

[windswhispvrs]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 !

LOCATION: sweet release. TIME: late night. RESPONSES: ( 1/5 )

𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 when esme is sufficiently comfortable enough to put experienced actor on the top of her resume. a field she has become all too familiar with, however, is bartending. she was always a night owl -- at times to her detriment, but in this line of work, such a curse had become her greatest superpower. this evening had been slower than usual and if there was anything esme wasn't good at, it was twiddling her thumbs like a schoolgirl. one could only clean for so long before the action began to feel robotic, inhuman. sure -- a patron had entered her vicinity every now and then, but they were far too engrossed with their other conversations to cure her boredom.

that is, until the appearance of a fresh face only a mere hundred feet away. when esme is behind the bar something in her switches, allowing a new personality to take the reigns. someone confident, someone cool. someone untouched by the brutal hands of life.

" how can i help you? " esme begins, hands pressing along the deep wood of the bartop. eyes are fixated on her customer, as if she is hanging onto every word they speak, as if their order is the most important thing in the world. " at this rate, love.. looks like you may be getting your own private bartender. "

[dcrkcloud]

starter: your choice ( @dreamerfms ) location: tipsy shores dance hall

It seemed like all of Georgia's plans since the new year she'd been dragged to against her will. Her fierce dedication to her image will never allow her to admit it, but she's actually quite enjoying line dancing so far. She doesn't exactly have two left feet — she'd spent enough time over the years desperately trying to find a sport to match her sister in to know she has some level of coordination — but each movement is so new to her that she feels like a fawn trying to find its feet.

"I'm so sorry," she tries to stifle her laugh as she bumps shoulders with the person beside her. "I genuinely don't know what happened there. It's like my upper body goes left, my lower half goes right, and all of it goes wrong."

[agrabahheir]

open to all

location: a store downtown

Jasmine sighed wistfully as she ran her fingers over the delicate champagne coloured fabric that decorated the mannequin. Back at home she'd attended many balls as a young woman and yet here in Evermore everything felt new and unexplored, like navigating this masquerade ball would be as easy as finding an honest suitor. "Are there rules to his ball?" she asked, turning her attention away from the rails of gowns. "Say you remove your mask to have a drink or fix your makeup, does someone come in and whisk you away for ruining secrecy? How daring would that be."

[hecticlife]

"don't worry about me, i was mia for a couple of weeks because i was focusing on my music. everything's alright," leon smiles. he knows he tends to scare people when he disappears without telling anyone where he's going, what he's doing, or when he's gonna come back. he really needs to work on that. "but that's about it. tell me, what's been going on with you?"

@valpostart

[wildxnside]

open: @aurorabaystarter

location: anywhere in town texting and walking at the same time was a recipe for disaster for anyone, but especially kiera, who wasn't very coordinated to begin with. she didn't notice the crack in the sidewalk until it was already too late, subsequently spilling out onto the pavement in front of her. she stood up quickly, dusting herself off and glancing around to make sure nobody noticed, which unfortunately they had. "hey, any chance you wanna pretend you didn't see that?" she asked awkwardly.

[fillyoursoulxx]

closed starter for @persephonyed​

“Can we talk?” Arms wrapped around herself as she stood in the doorway. “It’ll only take a sec. Promise,”

[fatedbeginnings]

closed starter for @oppulcnce ( 1/2 )

"it is a big and beautiful world. most of us live and die in the same corner where we were born in, never get to see any of it. i don’t want to be most of us.”

[webism]

pornstar!nanami who has a signature style to his videos—all of which are solo content consisting of him, manspreading in front of the camera in an awfully expensive suit. as his hands trace the muscles of his thighs, the seams of his trousers, the outline of his hardened cock.

pornstar!nanami who always takes his time getting to the good stuff, his voice silken as he speaks to those watching him. praise falls from his lips, which are always just out of view—the man doesn't dare show his face. something about professionalism and all.

pornstar!nanami whose videos usually end with him cumming into his closed fist, or into a toy if he's feeling so inclined. as a long time viewer of him, you've come to learn a few things about how he orgasms—he always bucks his hips up, chasing that instinct to breed. he always moans like he's in heat just before his climax, but because he's not great with breathing through his orgasms he chokes up just as he falls over the edge—it's a pretty sound.

pornstar!nanami who sometimes gets messy with it—he's such an organised and ritualistic man in his day-to-day that he sometimes just wants to let loose. sometimes, he'll only pull his cock out of his pants through the fly, and let the world watch as his precum dribbles all over those pressed pants of his. oh and does he go feral knowing that he's dirtying something so expensive with the receipts of his lust. who will stroke himself to completion just to watch his cum stain the fabric he's worked so hard to afford—there's no explaining that away to a drycleaner.

pornstar!nanami who likes to imagine it's a pretty thing riding his thigh that wrecks his trousers. wonders how many of his viewers touch themselves to his videos, hoping the could take him for all he's worth as well.

pornstar!nanami who, after a particularly messy session one day, gets an email after uploading his video. it's not even been ten minutes, which was the length of his video, so he assumes whoever has emailed him came particularly fast to that one.

pornstar!nanami who was more than right in his assumption. because as his eyes rake over the email sent by an adoring fan, he sees about a million different typos that indicate nothing other than messy fingers and a fucked-dumb typist. in your barely legible email, you explain that Mr. Nanamis videos are tagged 'near-you', and you'd happily offer your services as the next sex toy he uses to fuck-and-film in exchange for an orgasm or three.

and oh is pornstar!nanami intrigued. because his life is a busy one, he's a businessman when the sun is up time is precious and human connection is a scheduling conflict—his videos aren't solo out of preference, poor nanami, the pornstar, is a virgin.

pornstar!nanami who, after a few weeks of back and forth and some genuine conversation, ends up with his camera flashing red as you sit naked on his lap. and oh are you happy with the sight of him, blonde and sculpted to perfection underneath those lovely suits of his. Your ass is on display to anyone watching, upper half out of shot as your teeth clash with his.

pornstar!nanami who can't help the sounds he makes when you grind against his clothed cock. your slick, your pooling lust, it smears over the fabric of his pants and leaves a gloss behind in turn. he's ravenous, holding onto your hips and grinding you down against him in all the right ways. who moans into your mouth, already a little pussydrunk and he's barely had a taste of you.

pornstar!nanami who hopes he isn't unseemly in the way he manhandles you to sit properly on his lap. he knows you're as desperate as he is, what with the way you slip your hands down to undo his belt and pull his cock free. your fingers wrapped around his length is enough of a narcotic to cum on the spot, though he steadies his reeling mind and holds out.

pornstar!nanami who offers to fuck you on his fingers first, to use his tongue to warm you up and get you ready for his, frankly overbearing, size. but you're insistent, eager, and lowering yourself onto his aching cock with a kiss to his lips and a sharp inhale shared between you.

pornstar!nanami who thanks whatever god may be out there for letting him film a glimpse of heaven.

pornstar!nanami who can barely keep himself together as you ride him like he's the toy at hand. he's sure he's never been this vocal for his viewers, moaning alone is a feat that is hot at best and hauntingly awkward at worst—this, though—he's never been so mindless. and you love it. all the videos you've watched where his voice is smooth and confident and he's the picture of put-together. having such a man, a gentleman like nanami, absolutely melting with each clench of your dripping pussy around his length? it's an aphrodisiac in itself.

and when you catch onto the fact that pornstar!nanami is about to cum—the bucking of his hips, those drawling moans, the hitch of his breath—you kiss him stupid, and then speak against his pretty swollen lips. 'breathe'

and oh does pornstar!nanami breathe. a desperate droning moan escapes his breath, right into your mouth as he empties himself inside of you like he's trying to give you his last name.

pornstar!nanami who can't help himself. flipping you over and onto your back, pressing you into the mattress as he continues to fuck into you. he's going to pull as many orgasms out of you as he can—it doesn't even register in his mind that, due to the new angle of your bodies, he's just let the world see his face, and the pretty pussy drunk blush that paints it pink.