#lcfthaunted

[ru5t]

@lcfthaunted //> Exhaustion...

“You look like you haven’t slept in days.” carefully dry, to make it sound like light teasing instead of genuine worry, but there's no hiding the concern in her eyes.

  “Footprints at the corners of your eyes,” Tech mumbles. Her little corner of the Haven is in even more disarray than usual, less Magpie's nest and more hazardous dumping ground. All her odd ends out, like she's been looking for something and not having much success. Still, she moves through it like a secret in an empty hallway. Touching nothing but air. Careful, oh so cautious of being overhead, steady on. She plucks something up off of the shelf in the back corner and whispers. Completely unintelligible. She freezes there, her little face upturned slightly to look at the empty space in front of her. Her eyes dart, her lips move. There's no sound, but it's clear: counting. Sums on an invisible scratchpad. Whatever the equation, she clucks her tongue. “Wings.” Insultory.

  Tech skips forward, meeting Mazie in the doorway to her unit. (Perpetually propped open. Never ever, never closed. Not allowed.) She's only just arrived —-zipped right past the office and the others and even her brother-— still sandy and a bit sun-touched, her shoulders and cheeks peachy, but: “Gotta run.” She handles the thing she pulled off of her shelf forward. It's around eight-tenths of functional transmitter. No case as yet, but the signal hosts and the storage and the screen are all there. Even the wiring is nicely bundled and arrayed, held in by proper brackets and steady lines of strong, neat solder. Tech pulls on Mazie's hands with quick, insistent fingers to place the device in them directly. She closes her own hands over it like a protective shell. The case it doesn't have, “Yet.”

  She blinks.

  Shakes her head lightly. The shadows around her eyes stay, of course, but for the moment her eyes are a little clearer. “You gotta trust it, if y'wanna keep it. Tell Jack...” She has to think about it. Biting her lips for a long second as her eyes skip aside, thinking. Oh. Of course. “Myth's end.”

  Then she flits away. Back out the way she came in, a little streak of orange and white fur on her heels.

[havenofseven]

@lcfthaunted || Steam Powered Giraffe Prompts

“I want to be your friend.” She is the most comfortable in Diana's company at the moment, but her reach is uncharacteristically shy.

  Oh. For a stretch there's no answer but a blink, and an almost blank stare.

  Despite her time... out, some part of Diana still insists on barking out the dos and do nots. In this case rule one of being stationed in the stacks of celebrity housing was all but literally blaring like a klaxon: do not attempt to fraternize. Curiously, there had never really been any clear notes about what to do if things were attempted the other way around. Not that any of it strictly matters, anymore.

  She clears her throat, and ever so slightly shakes her head.

  “I'm not... That is. I don't think that you do,” she finally answers in a level voice. If Mis- If Mazileah knew everything Diana had done to end up all the way out here, of all places, or if she learned how Diana used to stand there in those lofty civilian halls with her boots planted and her face hidden. Her eyes and ears open. Eyes for the BL/ind. She'd been a threat as much to keep people in as to keep pearls and pretty smiles in as to keep the rabble out. Somehow, the idea has become stomach churning. She shakes her head again. “I'm... sorry about what happened.”

[maramcna]

Fitting how the blue friends are on the same post

[cheekypriest]

@lcfthaunted ∣ 📿

"Got anything that'll get the taste of out-of-date store-bought coffee out my mouth? It's a wonder I haven't sprouted an extra arm drinking that lot in my cupboards."

[cosmicangsts]

it's raining, and the wind has not only brought wet footprints and stray leaves into the cafe, but also an odd traveler. the blonde walks up to the counter, completely unsure of what it is that he even wants, given that it's his first time here. asking for a recommendation is harmless enough, right ? if left up to him, he'll get the same boring order from every place he visits ; unsweetened black tea ( he enjoys the bitterness ) or just plain coffee. simply groundbreaking. things one could make at home, or in his unique case, on board his time machine.

" this cafe is lovely. is there anything in particular that you might recommend, miss ? " yes, it's probably due time he left the choosing up to someone else and tried something new.

✦ ( @lcfthaunted liked for a starter ! )

[cruelprincae]

@lcfthaunted liked the sc for older! Cardan

Although he has never had the patience to dedicate time to study all the progress that humanity has made over the passage of the years, merely content with the fundamental information that is the existence of tremendous skyscrapers, internet, pizza and cars ― all of which being Vivi's input on the few occasions that he has come to visit the apartment herself and Heather inhabit ―, Cardan is quite familiar with the concept of coffee shops, for they have been there on the occasion that he visited the mortal land when he was significantly younger, and he would return the ensorceled mortals to their families and homes, away from his brother's influence.

On the rare occasion when his moth would twinkle its antennas in a silent demand of wanting for something other than the six-pack bottle of beer it was accustomed to, to make the journey back to Elfhame, he would visit one of these shops and he would glamour himself a handful of caffeinated beverages; one for himself, and several for the gigantic moth he would often park behind the establishment, hidden away from prying eyes, which he would then pour inside of a bucket for it to drink from. Even if the taste was foul and did little more other than insult his taste buds, it would appear that the moth quite fancied it, as it took its sweet time devouring all the liquid it could find as well as licking all traces of it from the bucket's walls. The Prince knew little of its use, but what he did know ― most of it being from observing the moth's behaviour, which stood on high alert for days on an end after consuming the caffeinated beverage ― is that, upon its consumption, it offers clarity, focus and liberation from the heavy feelings of tiredness that would occasionally wash over him.

Mab, he can use some clarity right about now, particularly since the heir to his throne thought it would be rather fitting to make himself a prisoner of the now-dispatched Court of Teeth, all to impress its teenage Queen. Cardan is no stranger to rough declarations of affection ― in fact, majority of the romances in his life were of such nature ― and, were the circumstances any different, he would have sat back and allowed the youth to work on their problems; alas, Oak's ill judgement made for a fairly ancient enemy of the Crown to threaten the integrity of both the himself and the Court that he has tried to built for the better part of the decade. Interference is, at this point, inevitable.

Alas, he knows not how to move. Both Jude and his General, Grima Mog, opt for a direct attack against the Court of Teeth in sight of such deliberate disrespect, which would most likely result in the uproar of war ― in fact, it would appear that the majority of his court thirsts for the taste of battle after nearly a decade of tranquillity. And, though Cardan is a pacifist, with battle almost always as a last resort, he knows not how to talk his way out of this predicament. Clarity and ideas are what he beseeches, and hence, the reason why he is seated in a particularly crowded coffee shop, with the chatter of mortals like the irksome buzzing of sprites flying above his head.

❛ I wish for a coffee, ❜ He merely says at the girl that comes forth upon his table and pushes forth a green leaf, glamoured to resemble that of mortal money, with two ring-adorned fingers. Then, there is a moment of a silence as his black hues glance upon the catalogue of delicacies in a considerate frown, and he adds; ❛ I also wish for dumplings. ❜

[aercnaut]

" I DON' MIND helpin' folks that need it. lets be clear on that, ma'am. however, i would like to know what i'm gettin' into by doin' so, " it wouldn't change his mind, but he does have his own skin to worry about here, not to mention his finaces.

" who's after you? "

@lcfthaunted

[thesamecoiin]

⌨️ :: internet dating at the holidays? super cliche. except maybe not so much when you realize who's waiting 'in the red sweater' at the mall food court. (reversed!) written for @lcfthaunted

This was a terrible idea.

There were no two ways about it. Was she out of her mind?

Sorcha checked the time on her phone again. Exactly two minutes later than it had been two minutes before, the last time she’d checked, imagine that. She let the screen go black even as she stared at the digital numbers, and did her best not to fidget with the device.

“Excuse me,” a voice over her shoulder said.

Her head snapped up and she turned towards the sound, but it was only a father trying to get past her with an oversized stroller. She stepped aside. “Of course, sorry,” she said with a small smile.

She looked at her phone again (a whole 60 seconds had gone by), mostly checking for a notification this time. Despite how well the last few weeks had been going, she still half expected him to cancel.

That train of thought only brought her back around to the fact that this might be the worst idea she’d ever had. Tapping on the ad for the app had been bad enough, but this? She sighed and unlocked her phone, opening the conversation tab of the app and scrolling back to the very beginning. Maybe rereading some of their conversation would remind her why exactly she’d thought this was a good idea in the first place.

She smiled to herself. Neither of them had been comfortable when they’d first started talking, and looking back at it now, it practically radiated off the text. She could remember how it had felt. Online dating had never really been something she thought she’d ever do. After all, most apps of the sort seemed geared only towards hooking up and, well.

She could find someone for that just fine on her own, thank you very much.

Something about the ad for this app, however, had grabbed her attention. It advertised real connections over hookup culture. Given that she’d had maybe one connection she’d actually thought was real in her entire life, it appealed to her. Something deeper than a one night stand or a short-lived friends with benefits sounded really good, actually. So she’d tapped through, installed the app, built herself a profile. The fact that they discouraged sharing photos was a new one, but she found it almost refreshing, somehow.

Put simply, she was used to being able to draw people in based on her looks. Sure, she had the intellect and the conversation skills to go along with her body and her face, but intellect and conversation skills had rarely been more than icing on the cake. In truth, the idea of trying to build any kind of connection based on nothing more than black and white text? Mildly terrifying. Not that she’d admit that, even if pressed.

She swiped through the conversation on her screen, skimming over the majority of their conversation until she landed at the plans they’d made for that day.

gildedlily21: I’ll be in the northwest end of the food court, red sweater.

mjrnchurch: I’ll keep an eye out.

gildedlily21: ;)

So here she was. Standing there, red sweater and all, waiting for someone she’d never seen before in her life. What could possibly go wrong?

Another voice spoke behind her. “Excuse me… I’m looking for someone who calls herself gildedlily21, I’m supposed to meet her here.”

She took a breath, realizing she'd heard that voice before. She turned, looking up into a face she would never have expected. “...Wait, really?”

[miidnighters]

@lcfthaunted liked for a starter

"Can I like, work here?"

Billie has a pretty pink laptop bag slung over her shoulder, having ducked into Healing Treats to escape a rain shower (which isn't fair because the weather app said it was going to be a clear night and Billie's plan was to write under the stars. Alas).

"I'll buy something, of course. But you're not about to close or anything are you?"

[storyofwhoiam]

Plots please!

@lcfthaunted | send “plots please” and I’ll respond with plots / relationships / connections I can think of for our muses | always accepting!

Graham - Mazie: In his verse where his kid's just become a werewolf, he's out searching for information when he encounters Mazie in her changeling verse

Rosemary - Clara: They star on Broadway together

Bridget - Sophie: In which Sophie gets caught and ends up in prison

Franky - Mazie: Both of them in their single mom verses and their kids go to the same school?

Trixie - Victoria: Medical colleagues who get to know each other in working in a hospital

Marie - Sophie: For sure they could do some criminal favours for each other

Justino - Mazie: Justino in his The Magicians verse accidentally travels to witch!Mazie's café

Ash - Mazie: Ash gets a job in Mazie's café?

Bridget - Mazie: They studied psychology together at university

Delia - Mazie: Delia is her midwife in Mazie's single mom verse

Timothy - Aarti: They meet through Tim's brother, Oliver, who's worked/studied with Aarti

[hvndredbattles]

Honestly, Richie's glad for the excuse to get away from the simpering of the others of the peerage. (Even if that excuse had come with exorbitant amounts of concern over a little blood.) Trouble is, he can't find a single fucking bathroom in this place.

“ you’re hurt because of me. the least i can do is fix it. ” @lcfthaunted

“It's really not that big a deal.” She's still following him, though, and you know? Maybe she's more familiar with the grounds than he is. “Just need to find a bloody loo...”

[ru5t]

@lcfthaunted //> Willow Prompts

listen. be careful.

  Tech scoffs with enough force and sarcasm to startle birds and melt concern. “What am I, an amateur?”

  In many ways, yes. For the love of the challenge, the love of the sheer sense in a line of code or beauty in a well engineered rig. For the love of mischief. She'd had her classes and programs in the city, well advanced for a nine year old, but never quite gotten to the part where it'd stopped being encouraged -competitive- play. At least not while her mind was hers. While she uses her teeth to strip the casing from the end of the cord, though, she glances up, and finally realizes it's some kind of legitimate concern, from Mazie. And not just onlooking eyes that don't know anything, or general what-to-do. Hm. She spits the casing into her palm, pockets it, then brings wire to wire to begin the extra-fiddly process of wrapping them.

  “S'just a panel. Couldn't kill me f'it wanted to.” And it didn't. They generally weren't smart enough to think that way. “Well— not unless the threshold boosted a' the sun started really kickin' somethin' fierce like... five times? Six what it does already? An' then I think we'd have bigger problems then..” she gestures at the set of old solar panels that gave the Haven its sleepy-charging power, and herself. “Yeah?”

[havenofseven]

@lcfthaunted || Willow Prompts

“Well, it was stupid.”

  The steady click of the wrench pauses as Jack glances up. In the shadow of the truck's hood his eyes are cool and dark. He shrugs a shoulder. “Options were limited.”

[maramcna]

@lcfthaunted sc

"Clean yourself up. you're getting blood all over the place."

[lighthouseborn]

She Creature Starters || @lcfthaunted

“My past is quite different than what I've told you.”

  Henry's laughter filled the cabin. Neither dry nor sarcastic, just laughter. Such laughter! like he'd been told a joke, or shown some fantastic sort of trick. Such that it took him effort to exert control over, hands held up to pacify until he could find his words. “Forgive me. I don't aim to make light of all that brought you here.”

  And the Lady Mela –he did think that right, whatever else said and done, Lady Mela, though he was not so callous as to say such aloud– certainly must have endured something to fit so neatly beyond the reach of so-called civilization without having been born there. To climb as she had, so swiftly, toward challenging for the title of Lord. It was simply the way of things. That was what he found so funny.

  “If I took all pirates to be honest of their pasts, I would be a far more grave man.” A fathom below the earth at least. “Unless you mean to say you've come here concealed for the sole purpose of putting an end to me or mine, whether you've withheld a truth or lied entirely...” He shook his head, and shrugged. No matter. “Prove yourself to your word as you've given it. I do not demand the secret of what turned you here, Mela, to know you now. A history can die here, if you wish it.”

[hvndredbattles]

He's grinning to himself when he says, "I can't be that bad. No one's transferred yet." And, he nearly adds, you married me. It's enough of an old hat of a tease, she's likely to hear it anyway. That, and the even older I never said I wasn't.

The combination of her words and the noticeable pause in cadence draw a low note from Richie. He's never without reports and requisitions and proposals to complete, it's true. But he feels whatever it was that had driven her to reach out to him in the first place hasn't been put to rest.

"Tell me, if you need more," he settles on finally. Richie exhales through his nose as he shifts in his chair to reach for his computer mouse, pulling up his calendar. Abbreviations and in incomplete picture of his schedule wash neat rectangles of time in different colors across nearly every day. "I'll see if I can make a trip up in the near future."

She laughs outright, rolling her eyes. “You’re terrible,” she says fondly. She turns to her piles of baked goods, mentally portioning them off, figuring out what containers they would fit in to be sent off. “Hopefully the variety will make up for the laps.” There are, of course, plenty of Richie’s favorites, and she intends to send the majority of them off to him. Her own favorites are missing from the collection—a fussy recipe, with too much time to think as dough is pressed into tins—but now that she’s been able to quiet her gnawing worry, she might rectify that.

“I should… let you get back to things,” she murmurs, a little reluctant. Jenn is in the other room, and she has trays in the oven, but she doesn’t really want to hang up yet, an irrational part of her mind insisting that, as long as she has him on the line, nothing can happen to him. “Thank you for calling, mon loup. I know you’re busy, and I do appreciate it.”