#i ramble no need to match length

[ewoodxx]

Casino Royale || Open @capemaystarters

Ethan strode through the DuPont Moreau estate, sporting a single breasted charcoal tuxedo, deemed by his publicist a look worthy of a gentleman– or rather the illusion of one. It was exactly the angle he and his team were going for: smart and classic, perfect for schmoozing with the curated list of individuals his team had encouraged him to mingle and play Blackjack with, a small insurance policy that at least some portion of the evening would be spent on semi-decent behavior.

But all work and no play was hardly the Ethan Wood way, and custom Tom Ford could only mask so much for so long.

It was only a matter of time before the athlete took over one of the bar areas and slipped the bartender a couple hundreds to make up for the antics that would follow. He reached over the countertop, retrieving as many miniature glasses as he could manage, then arranged them hastily in a line. He quickly poured a generous dose of the closest liquor he could find in each, tequila.

“Alright–” Ethan shouted to nobody in particular. “Grab a shot!”

[aletheialed]

Right now, wine glass in hand and staring vacantly into the dark corners of the room in which he dwells - Barok can't help but think about his brother. To think about Klint during hard times, the man who he's always admired so much, has always come naturally to him - but it can't bring him any comfort now.

The truth is, Barok doesn't know what he should feel more betrayed about. The fact that the brother he'd wanted to emulate all his life was nothing but a killer, who's actions resulted in the ending and ruining of so many lives, including Barok's own? Or... is it that, until the very end, Klint was too afraid to share that horrible truth with him, even when that fear allowed him to be controlled into committing the most heinous acts imaginable?

It makes him want to laugh with a bitterness he hasn't felt in years. It makes him feel ill; desperate and angry and like a fraying rope about to snap. Perhaps it's sinful, and a sign of Barok's own weak character, that Klint's lack of trust in him might be what hurts the most. Had he thought Barok would break under the weight of the truth, and sought to protect him from that fate? What's worse is that Barok doesn't know how he would've reacted deep down. What's the scarier thought - that Barok would've turned away in despair and been unable to carry on just as his brother feared, or that he would stand with Klint, perhaps even turning a blind eye to his crimes...?

...There's no point in thinking about it now. But if he doesn't think about Klint, then there's no shortage of other things to take his place at the forefront of his mind. Such as the true identity of the Reaper, and how Barok had been complicit in his crimes for the longest time - allowing himself to be used and manipulated like a puppet on a string, even when he didn't see the full extent of it all.

His whole life, these past ten years in which he thought he'd endured so much, all for the sake of the people of London... what were they all for?

When he hears the knock on the door, it's tempting to ignore it entirely - he barely has the energy to stand, anyway. He doesn't know who it could possibly be, considering everything, but... in the end, he rises like a man possessed, and finds himself walking to open the door as if in a trance. What he sees when the door opens is the last thing he expects.

"Mr... Naruhodo...? You... pray tell, what are you doing here at this hour?"

@tenacquity ( starter! )

[supercutts]

          for  someone  who  gets  paid  to  be  charming,  luca  sure  was  fucking  things  up.  from  embarrassing  stutters  while  first  introducing  himself  to  sneaking  out  the  back  of  grocery  stores  just  to  avoid  speaking  to  her,  unfortunately  it'll  take  more  than  just  simple  meetings  with  the  pretty  brunette  for  him  to  curb  his  nerves.  and  her  perfectly  eye  -  catching  body  lounging  in  an  expensive,  brightly  colored  bikini  did  not  help  at  all.    ❛  nice  day  out,  ❜    he  blurts,  shaking  out  the  last  of  the  dead  leaves  from  his  pool  net  into  a  nearby  trashcan.  he  winces  as  the  cover  comes  down  with  a  thunk,  cursing  himself  for  such  lack  of  gracefulness  that  he  needs  more  than  ever  right  now  to  impress  the  beautiful  kasey  laying  just  a  few  feet  away.  he  takes  a  beat  before  crossing  the  short  distance  and  standing  by  the  sunbathing  fem  with  his  hands  on  his  hips.  eyes  squint  through  the  sunshine,  the  heat  beaming  down  on  his  bare  chest  that's  already  glistening  with  sweat.  suddenly,  he's  too  aware  of  his  body  that's  uncovered  to  the  world  and  clears  his  throat  in  attempt  to  rid  his  shyness.  it's  too  late  to  slip  out  the  back  door  now.    ❛  is  there  anything  else  that  needs  to  be  done  ?  i  saw  you  trying  to  reach  that  umbrella  up  there  earlier.  ❜    head  tilts  to  the  highest  shelf  on  a  nearby  rack,  which  contains  a  rainbow  parasol.    ❛  need  some  help  ?  ❜ @boysbye

[deceptivemorals]

plotted with @malka-lisitsa

          elijah had grown very fond of katherine, or rather katerina now that he knows her actual name, over the past few months. neutrally explained. it was very rare that he developed a deeper interest in a human, and he knew it was better to stay away. humans and vampires were never a good combination, yet they seemed to meet by chance. admittedly, sometimes he had also set it out to appear at the place he knew she was working at, but sometimes she, too, seemed to cross his path.

         katerina was a special person, she had something indescribable about her that attracted him. therefore he had seen with great concern that she had obvious injuries the previous day; bruises which she tried to hide under makeup. in her movements that suggested pain. he had never addressed it directly and the answers to his indirect questions were usually formulated in such a way that he knew she did not want any further inquiries. but now he was sure that there was indeed someone who caused her pain. something that made him incredibly angry (raging mad, even), but since she wouldn’t drop any names, he couldn’t let this person pay.

         he had offered to take the pain away and heal her, and she had agreed, although she probably thought it was a joke on his part. that it was actually his blood that had the desired effect was unknown to her as he had cleverly hidden it by giving her a drink.

         the events of the previous day had led him to want to see her urgently today, which is why he drove to her address. he knew it because she had already invited him to her apartment once. he rang the bell, but no one opened the main door, which was not an obstacle, as he found someone else to open the door. when he finally stood in front of her apartment door, however, he smelled something that shouldn't be as prominent: blood.

         elijah knocked on her door. "katerina?" there was no reaction, so he looked around briefly and then opened the door with a deliberate blow.

         what he found was horrifying, she lay not far from the door in her own, already dried blood on the ground.

         "katerina!? katherine?!" immediately he hurried to her and kneeled beside her on the ground, his gaze searching where all the blood came from while at the same time trying to feel a pulse, although he could not hear a heartbeat and her gaze was fixed, empty, and immobile. he knew what this meant, but he didn’t want to accept it. she couldn't be dead. she shouldn't be dead. he couldn't have lost her.

         but ... was it even possible for her to be dead? there were a thousand thoughts on his mind, also calculating when he had given her his blood the day before.

         his gaze finally hung on a dark crusty spot on her dark top, which was slightly raised and shimmered metallic when looked closely. immediately he brushed his fingers carefully over the spot and could then actually grab a bullet that should not be at this place (even if it shouldn't be there at all). her body seemed to have expelled it, which was a sign that she'd wake up again.

         elijah released a breath, before closing his eyes and trying to focus which wasn't as easy because between the initial scare he had and the wrath he felt, he also knew that she wouldn't awake as she was before. if she were to awake, then she would be in transition.

         he opened his eyes and then rested his hand softly against her cheek. "you won't be hurt again. and you'll be avenged." he does not know who did this but he'll find out. elijah lifted her into his arms and carried her to the room which he suspected was her bedroom, to lay her on her bed. she shouldn’t have to wake up on the floor. he left the bedroom door open to hear any possible change or movement before returning to the scene and started cleaning it – more a distraction to himself, because besides his concern for her, there was also this incredible anger and vindictiveness. only when the floor was perfectly clean, he went back and stood at the bedroom door to give her the necessary space when she wakes up.  

[quietlyblooms]

open to mutuals | in which chiyo doesn't want them to leave <3

" thank you, " softly chiyo mutters as laces are untied and shoes discarded, careful hands helping her beneath a comforter that feels heavenly against her skin. typically she'd never go to bed in street clothes, but the night calls for an exception; she's had just a tad too much to drink, feels much too tired to worry about dirty clothes. no, chiyo's more concerned with squeezing her pillow as tightly as she can ( the pressure against her chest soothes something that she can't name, doesn't want to name ).

she feels the bed shift as her companion stands, and eyes like melted chocolate stare up at them. belatedly chiyo realizes she's grabbed hold of their wrist but doesn't let go. belatedly she realizes she's allowed her pillow to fall to the ground, half-risen upon an elbow, though she doesn't care. she just doesn't want them to leave.

" could you stay a while longer? " her voice sounds so small, fragile. " please? "

[themothstoy]

@isforever / ♥ / pretty when you cry . . .

kitty had managed to avoid most of val's wrath this time. she hadn't been in the room for the meeting itself, just for the beginning and end to serve drinks and of course now clean up. but she did it with a smile and a hop in her step. she had done so quickly and thoroughly, used to val's anger and the ways it took form. she was grateful to have missed it this time.

she watched vox drink and her lights glowed a little brighter at the praise. her eyes squinted with a soft joy and she nodded at his request. " thank you , sir. of course! " she turned and made her way back to the bar. she prepared something stronger for vox. something she'd known him to drink on rough nights in the past. she set it on her tray and brought it back to the conference room. she set the glass down carefully in front of vox and stood to the side.

she was quiet for a moment before she spoke again, " is there anything i can do to comfort you ? " her main purpose was usually comfort. she hoped she could provide some comfort. the vees could be difficult, almost impossible to comfort sometimes. but she knew her use and purpose was to serve.

[masterzmei]

with: @edgarxyang where: outside your local boxing gym when: ??? Whatever makes sense?

In all honestly, Zmei let himself fall back onto the bench rather than taking the time to sit gracefully. He'd been on his feet an awful long time, too proud to tell Kaan that his pain tolerance was wearing thin or his hand was starting to cramp from the extra weight put on his cane until after Kaan had gotten a reminder on his phone that he needed to shower and pack up if he wanted to get to his shift on time. And even then it'd just been a short "I'm tired" instead of letting his student know how he really felt.

His pride had never led to anything more than a strong moment, then a a long quiet pause where it felt like everthing he'd done wrong came back to bite him.

And even as he was already feeling sorry for himself, he looked up from massaging his wired-together kneecap and calcified tendons to see his old rival, walking just fine on two feet and looking strong as ever. Zmei hadn't seen him since he'd had to report that Edgar was finally hanging up his gloves and retiring, being purposely vague since he hadn't been able to track down a reason himself.

"I thought you were done?" He asks, in spite of himself. "I'm not one to talk, but the title scene hasn't been the same without you."

[andyromero]

status — open starter.

location — aimlessly wandering outside of sea cliff marina.

As she ventured into the unfamiliar tree line, leaving the sea cliff marina behind her, her thoughts wandered back to him. Was she supposed to alert someone before stepping beyond the group's protective gates? Hell if she knew. Bitterness had weaved it's way into her veins and with every step she took, it only continued to build. Two months and she'd already found more comfort within a group than she'd had her entire life. Even if a strange feeling washed over her every single time she heard another spewing an unfamiliar name to the man they deemed their leader — the man she'd once known as well as he'd let her. The fall of everything they'd once known had a way of changing a person. She, too, had become a mere shadow of her former self. It was inevitable in a world where push came to shove and most everyone were only concerned of caring for themselves. Grounded branches crunched beneath her worn boots, her venture out aimless and a tad bit careless all the same. The faint smile of amusement that had pulled at one corner of her mouth quickly faded as the sound of another filled her head. Just as she had plenty of times before, Andy's slender fingers curled around the handle of her blade, grip tight in preparation. "I'm not looking for trouble," she called out, voice radiating strength and a lack of fear despite every pulse point in her body throbbing in anticipation. "Just trying to enjoy the fresh air." This time it was sarcasm dripping off her tongue.

[rustingspark]

- location: coin laundry.

- status: open.

hypnotized by the clothes cycling in one the laundromats dryers, maddie doesn't budge at the sound of it alerting her that her time here was almost done. too distracted by thoughts she had been ruminating over all day. this wasn't a super common occurrence. most days, she walked around huntsville unbothered, with a smile on her face, but grief likes to enter without so much as a knock. coming and going as it pleases. today she's thinking about her mom. her dad. hank macgillivray. some of the townspeople claim he's just missing, but she had lived here long enough to know that was just what they told each other to keep the peace going. the clinging of the shopkeeper's bell against a wooden door finally snaps her back into reality. her head turns, looking at whoever it was that just walked through the door. she smiles habitually, giving them an awkward wave, "hey there." maddie reaches for the dryer door and opens it, reaching in to grab something to fold. anything to make it look like she wasn't just staring off into space. "it's nice to finally have some company. it gets pretty spooky when you're in here by yourself."

[circuscursed]

"Oh... Ragatha... ahaha, fancy seeing you here..."

Pomni fumbles on her words as she greets the rag doll - the human, really, though it's sometimes hard to remember - before her. What is she supposed to say? She's been dreading talking to her one-on-one like this, though to be fair, there isn't much that she hasn't been dreading, lately.

It feels like she's constantly on the verge of snapping, her chest feeling tight and a phantom nausea overtaking her senses - which for the record, doesn't even make sense, since she isn't in a human body anymore! She doesn't know if she wants to cry or scream or what, but every moment is a struggle not to fall apart - there will be a way out, she tells herself, even though she knows she's lying, because if she gives up, then...

...Well. Back to the matter at hand...!!

"You know, I just wanted to say, ah..." she can't seem to get out the words. She has to apologize, she knows that, and she does feel guilty, it's just... well, no-one can blame Pomni for trying to get out of here, right? That exit door might've been her only chance, and, and...!

"I'm... really sorry, about before. You know, when I, uh. Left you. Again." Great, it sounds even worse when she says it aloud. "I didn't mean to... I mean, I'm just- really glad you're okay!"

@ragsdolly ( starter! )

[shewulfs]

setting, day one, in a quiet part of the gardens after the assembly in the great hall.

status, open ( 0/4 ).

𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐨 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫. even the caravan south would have been marked as an adventure, rather than a funeral march. there would have been night after night spent under a sky heavy with constellations, listening to her father's men recall heroic tales by the firelight. the girl lysara had once been was enamored with the thrill of a world larger than winterfell ... the woman she became knew she had been nothing more than a fool then. king's landing was not a story waiting to unravel at her touch, but a pit of vipers waiting to strike. upon her arrival, the pit was in its full glory, house targaryen on display in the great hall and their subjects playing nice in their presentations to the crown. lysara did as she was told, paying her regards with the rest of house stark and doing her best to hide her fidgeting hands. but once the crowd exited to the gardens, following the promises of a rich meal and a marketplace filled with luxuries and wonders, lysara slipped from her compatriots, desperate for a quiet moment of her own. lysara found refuge at an overlook of the waves. there she braced herself on the stone wall and finally freed a heavy breath. the sea air washed over her, a balm to her turning stomach. she allowed herself a few minutes of solitude before straightening her back. anxieties aside, it was time to steel herself for what was ahead ... though when she turned to return to the fray, she was surprised to find that she was no longer alone.

[cloudbends]

first arc of horizons finished.... Broooo.... This keeps serving.....

[lattehearted]

[ REST ]  our muses lay on the ground together while it rains.  ( Adaine -- oisin )

Her heart continues to war with her head, with no end in sight.

The summer had only just started but the Rat Grinders had been trying to make amends. Well, some of them. Two of them, really. Ruben still remembered only bits and pieces - Fig only recently confessing and apologizing for messing with his dreams, in case that was part of his repression. Mary Ann was universally adored, more so after she and Gorgug started to figure their whole deal out. And Lucy, sweet Lucy, was just glad to have friends again, old and new.

Ivy did her part - seeking out Mazey only a couple days after the fight in the gym to address the bad blood. That did a lot of heavy lifting in terms of Fabian becoming civil with the ranger. And no one could argue that Oisin wasn't trying - as much as Adaine wished she could deny it.

He had locked eyes with Adaine as Jawbone had pulled him and Ivy away after the fight, a simple Message of "Sorry," just like that day in the cafeteria. She had frowned in the face of his sheepish smile and soft eyes.

The next day Fabian calls his banker, confused about a substantial deposit he hadn't made; it had been Oisin, Alston had informed, reading a memo that it was for repairs to Seacaster Manor. Adaine frowns, tells Fabian not to take it. He reminds her he's immune to dragon madness and, well, Oisin had wrecked his house. It felt like fair compensation.

At Mazey's graduation party, Mary Ann digs a bandolier out of her backpack. "It's from Oisin," she said, with her typical flat inflection. "Said he needed a new leather working project and saw your artificer thing and wanted to make you a new one." ("That's...that's really nice, I killed him and he's making me things?" Gorgug comments at the same time Fig, ever a German Shepherd, asks, "Be straight with me, Mary Ann. What's his deal?" Mary Ann only shrugs. "Oisin's a dork," she explains, with the same fondness she calls her boyfriend a loser.)

Slowly but surely, he was ingratiating himself into their friend group, like the others before him. Even Riz, begrudgingly, lets him try and prove himself. So should Adaine. She knows this. She knows who she's really mad at is herself. But that doesn't stop her, during a group wide movie night at Mordred Manor, from slipping outside and flopping onto the wet grass with a yell of frustration.

For a couple of blissful minutes, it's just Adaine and the rain. And then Oisin finds her. He always does. He says nothing and that's almost worse. She's grasping at straws and coming up empty and that makes her angrier. At every turn, he was proving himself to be genuine - the same boy who had offered her diamonds and a study partner after one conversation. But she's terrified, bone deep terrified, that just like the night of the storm, she's going to be blindsided by him if she trusts him unduly.

Adaine eventually breaks the silence, eyes aimed skyward and uncaring of the rain splattering against her face. Her magic swirls in the air, a Detect Thoughts seeking his reaction on the surface of his mind. "...That night at Fabian's," she begins. "The first one, not the...not election night." It's difficult to force the words out; what is she supposed to do with what she learns? "The...The diamonds, the...the fluster, the fucked up shots... Was any of that real?"

@trustbutvcriify / the classic romance of a good rainstorm

[wickedlvst]

closed for @hurtrite for this starter call // based on (x)

platinum hair shone brightly in warm candlelight, leaving the resemblance of a halo, as she took a few tentative steps towards the blonde giant of a man. with the eyes of both their clans upon her and her older brother’s gaze glaring daggers into her back to keep her moving, knowing all too well how she’d fought this alliance tooth and nail, it was impossible not to feel like the sacrificial lamb led to its slaughter. not that she couldn’t understand why her older brother had been pushing this marriage, all too determined to end the war that had already cost both of them their father in a brutal battle, leaving most of the men of their village incapacitated if not a mutilated corpse on a field drowning in blood. if it meant offering her up as a sacrificial offering to a merciless barbarian to avoid further bloodshed, not to mention the eradication of their people, he probably would have let them all fuck her one after the other right there on the battlefield. freya couldn’t even really blame him for this decision, instilled with an overwhelming sense of duty and loyalty for her people - even if she hadn’t been allowed to fight with them as so many other women of their village had. the jarl’s daughter was too precious a cargo to risk her getting hurt, too valuable of a bargaining ship. it hadn’t mattered to either her father or brother that she could fight as least half as well as some of their men, that she’d have rather faced the possibility of a brutal death out there with them as opposed to being left behind to imagine the worst, without being able to do anything to help.

but freya supposed it didn’t matter anymore. all she could do now was to hold her head high and make the best of an impossible situation. if it meant sleeping with a knife in her bed to keep her future husband from killing her in her sleep, so be it. only a fool would trust him to not try anything so cruel and she might be many things but a fool she was most certainly not, mind almost as cunning as that of the trickster god. she came to a stop only a few feet away from him, keeping her body with all her might from trembling at his intimidating presence. she was not going show any sign of weakness, refusing to act like the prey her family apparently considered her to be. forcing a smile onto her lips, she squared her shoulders, trying her best to make for her lack of height and overall fragility with a good posture. "i look forward to bringing our people together and setting an end to this war that's already cost too many lives", she opened the conversation, tone polite yet an attentive listener would easily notice the hint of an accusation behind them, obviously putting all of the blame for the bloodshed on him, "may the gods bless our connection."

[writteninscarlet]

This wasn't how Wanda had thought her night would go. That was on her. Why on earth wouldn't she realise that of course any night she had to herself was going to end up battling something supernatural and... ugh, with rather a hideous smell. She hoped none of the stench was getting into her clothes. Her dry-cleaning bill really was one of her largest expenses some months. She begrudged using magic for everything but some stains and smells could only be magically removed.

The portal that had opened would actually close itself. It wasn't running on unlimited energy, already it was flickering in and out of reality. Portals such as this were horrendous whilst open but usually only in existence for an hour or two, running on a battery of mystical power rather than a generator. Which was all well and good but if could stop spewing out horrific creatures that could be from a Poe novel or something Lovecraftian that would be rather lovely.

A quick flick of her hand to throw up a little shield as something flung its way over at her. Really, the fight was simple if not incredibly annoying and draining. It was just wave after wave of these things. They weren't strong, but they were agile... and if they were to get out amongst the general populace they would terrorise citizens and grow stronger. She really needed to find herself a nice assistant. Or just pretend to be out and let Dr Strange handle these things. Ugh - especially when they slobbered like this. Lifting that particularly droolly thing up with her magic, she flung it towards a wall, and focused on the more dangerous... fangy thing. What even was it?

Her focus was on that imminent danger when she heard (sensed?) that she wasn't alone. Besides the supernatural creatures. Had she actually called for assistance? She didn't think so. Another flick of her wrist to send the creature away from her, granting a momentary reprieve as she looked at who else was here. Unbelievable. She arched an eyebrow, watching him curiously and with some disbelief. "...I really think you're in the wrong place. Would you mind L E A V I N G?" She didn't want to babysit anyone, let alone someone who-- now, now. She didn't know he would be a pain in the ass. The vibe could be wrong.

closed starter ;; @cagcd

[withoz]

where : in front of the seal harbor apartments cap : 0/4

THE FALLOUT OF RECENT EVENTS wasn't exactly what Dorothy was expecting, but her life was slowly starting to turn back to a form of normalcy as the carnival had finally reopened, so at least the regular shows had started up again and given her a distraction. Normally, knowing that both the people who had previously been arrested for the murder that had shaken the small town were back to living in the same building she considered her own home would have only increased her anxiety every time she was merely spending time in her own apartment. However, knowing one of the people out on bail was Fallon, and, even if the acrobat didn't entirely understand many of the other's lifestyle choices, but she still didn't believe murder could be included. Or conspiracy of murder, whatever the difference was there. Which gave Dorothy the feeling that they had the wrong people. In some ways, that was even worse. Because it meant who actually did it was still out there, undetected. Even if the fear of the murderer not living in her complex wasn't as strong, the fact that there were now reporters stationed outside the front door at all times of day gave her some annoyance. With her workout bag from work hanging off her shoulder and a braid that had been tied up in a loop on either side of her head, the young woman didn't want to have to push through the crowd of people, always struggling to speak up or get it someone's way in pretty much any situation. "Can I just--can I get through?" Her meek voice didn't garner much attention, though, which was something she was usually aiming for, even if it didn't help her in the current situation. Every step she took forward seemed to just be backtracked, unable to enter the front doors, especially when any sort of confrontation was what she avoided. "Excuse me, I live here, so can I-?" Dorothy's second attempt didn't exactly carry any more volume, even if she was trying a little more. Worriment crossed her face from her place on the sidewalk, deciding exactly what her next move was.