#lemme know if you need something changed

[sanguinesorcery]

There were storm clouds on the far horizon.

If Fariah was a more superstitious woman, she might have considered it a bad omen. But all it really signaled in her routine-addled mind at this point was that there would be more work to be done in the coming months. Days, even.

Monsoon season was nothing to sneeze at, the tropical tempests a constant battering of wind and waves and heavy pelting rain. Breakers would need to be checked periodically amid the storms, the lighthouses had a habit of falling off-time due to the heavy moisture grinding into the tracks and gears, seawalls watched with a diligent eye. Just imagining the reports from the Ring was making her head swim. Those would have to be bolstered and handled long before the swing of the typhoons hit...

She hefted an elegant sigh across her shoulders as she wished that the heavier storms would wait until after this mainland delegation had been set on the path back home. Otherwise, they would be holed on the archipelago for months. She had little idea how stable their monarchy's council actually was, she did not want to be held accountable for the collapse of a nation simply on account of the damned weather. There was no satisfaction in that...

"Are you ready to meet the ferry?"

Ildra's inquiry caused her Empress to turn from the window she had been standing in, watching the Imperial Guard on the parade grounds and the roiling stormhead far passed the statue of Shrayak, the first Ariad. How fitting that his great bronze maw, opened wide with fangs bared to the world in that violent show of defiance, looked like it was responsible for the distant weather. Like the clouds were clinging to his canines and spilling from his throat.

Because of course you would call the storms, that is your name...

Down below, she could see the passenger freighter Seraphim pulling into the Imperial docks on the Central Isle. It flew the standard of a mainland nation, one she had not seen before now. Eyrol had been given explicit instruction to let the other ferries take common passengers the prior week when the letters of introduction had first been received. He would not have other obligations to this task, and who better to ferry foreign dignitaries than the Imperial Admiral himself. They were always safe in his hands, his skill as captain and helmsman proving his title was not for show; there was competence behind the clout. None else would do.

"Yes, Ildra. Let us descend." Fariah's reply was short. Matter-of-fact. Something she was sure her Regent would approve of.

It was accompanied by the twinkling chime of metalwork and lightest ruffle of silken hems over the marble floor as the austere Imperial wafted in the direction of the docks. Ildra was not far behind, keeping time and stride with her Empress' progression through vaulted halls and chambers. Across the parade grounds to the stairs that lead from the lower palace complex to the docks.

The army of maids and attendants who were already waiting in line to accept their guests rivaled the numbers of the Imperial Guard who had arrived when news of the ferry had entered Imperial waters reached them. The latter turned to salute their arriving Imperial as she and her Regent arrived, hands over their hearts and bowing their heads from their shoulders before resuming their post.

Dockhands scrambled as soon as the ironclad swung into the harbor, performing a turn only Eyrol could have been capable of for the size and heft of the ship, a gearing down of the turbines audible to any and all in the vicinity. He'd used the tension of the water as a brake, splashing it up on the pier itself as it was displaced. There was shouting from the dockhands as they took the waves around their knees. It wasn't angry shouting, though; Sidhe were solid-footed when it came to water, owing to their continued seafaring nature. If anything, they sounded playful and amused with the results. The anchors were dropped, pulling and holding the ferry as stationary as possible while the water around it settled again, and the engines were set to idle.

As expected, Eyrol poked his head over the aft railing of the Seraphim, waving to the Imperial party below and receiving one back. His ears flicked forward to hear Fariah when she called up to him.

">>What can we expect with this one?<<"

Eyrol's face scrunched a moment while he tried to think on how to explain what he had observed the last three or so days on the trek home. ">>...He's ... interesting ... <<"

The answer merely furrowed her brow with thought. ">>...'Interesting', how. Exactly.<<" Before he could reply, she stared directly up into his eyes from the ground. ">>No surprises, Eyrol. I don't want another incident like Mani'yik...<<"

Such a point caused the Admiral's face to twist in a different way. One of mild regret. ">>Yeah, that was my fault, I'm sorry about that. So!<<" He continued when he'd straightened his back again to address the rest. ">>This one doesn't seem to be Like Him. He's just very active. Hard to keep contained, entertained, and I guess he's just very curious. About everything. ...Expect questions. Lots of them.<<"

">>Well ... good. Questions, I can handle. Violent declarations of marriage and then war after he is refused, I can't do again. We'll just have to be vigilant about the kinds of questions he asks.<<" Inwardly, Fariah sighed at this revelation. Curiosity was a good sign, most of the time.

">>I remind you this is highly unprofessional.<<" Ildra interjected from her place in front of her Imperial, standing at the threshold to the pier. ">>Our only saving grace here is that it's unlikely the delegation has someone who can speak Sidhe.<<"

Eyrol laughed some, mirroring his chuckling Empress. ">>Unlikely. But the mooring is done, I'll go get the gangplanks down.<<"

As he left to perform his final duties, Fariah laid her eyes into Ildra's back. ">>Nothing wrong with being prepared. You know better than anyone about preparedness.<<"

The Regent huffed a little at the playful admonishment. ">>Yes, well. Let's be ready, I need to herald you soon.<<"

A few moments were taken to move the silk around, making sure the fragrant wind flowing over the docks didn't displace the layers too much. A dust here, a tug there, a purposeful moving of a string of pearls or fine chains and gems there.

"Right. I think we are ready to go."

@askganondorftobadragmire || Starter Call

[silverwingborn-moved]

“This part of town isn’t a good place to be at this time of night.” { From Nimue } @cxncrie )

The voice visibly startled the Nephilim, her whole body turning to face the sinner. Silver eyed the twin-tailed feline warily, sizing her up to see if her words held any threat behind them. Her own wings were out, which was highly uncharacteristic of Silver to do. But judging by the way one of them seemed to hang, it is easy to assume it was injured. A downed bird in a risky side of town.

“Indeed…You wouldn’t happen to know a quicker way out of here, would you?”

[darcyxpalmer]

status: closed with @lindiwe-in-camelot where: somewhere in the wilderness, not completely clear though

It's been a couple of days on the island since all of their arrival, She's been doing a couple of runs to the ship to get some supplies along with other people, and even more importantly, Darcy was slowly going to every part of the island, exploring every nook and cranny of it both to learn about the new place they were all on, while also seeing if there was any kind of secret or any hidden instructions she could go and find.

And then, if she was being honest, she kind of got sidetracked and distracted and then pretty much lost in the forest area, and now she was more than likely just going in circles.

Where was Alex when one needed him to lead you out of a forest?

Darcy wasn't quite sure how long she's been circling around, but despite getting lost, she couldn't help but admit that she actually enjoyed the walk she was on. And then at some point she heard some-- weird, animalistic noises that she most assuredly should have ignored and turned around and walked in the exact opposite direction to. But instead she headed towards it, until she got to a little further clearing with a huge, tall, smooth rock formation looming at its edge, and--

was that the beach woman who freaked out so badly on top of it? With a bunch of monkeys surrounding her and hounding her? In the moment several of them were throwing smaller pebbles at the woman, while a couple were trying to climb the rock.

"Hey, you okay over there?" Darcy asked, though maybe she should have just jumped right into it. But something stopped her for a moment, made her question instead of jumping right into it right away. "Need some help?"

[advertisesouls]

@kokkinomati sent in: " sit down before you fall down. "

blood, blood, gallons of the stuff! // accepting!!

This is nothing for Xifeng who has been through much harsher fights in the past. Someone thought they could get the upper hand on her due to her absence, but they didn't realize that she's still just as strong, if not stronger, than she was back then. As she steadies herself on the wall, she'll take a breath and shake her head at the demigod's request.

"Just get me to Alastor. I'll be fine otherwise."

[the-stove-is-divorced]

Day 1483943 of being cursed with Batman brainrot so snippet of young ghoul!Bruce wip, that may or may become a oneshot one day.

Bruce wants to vomit.

His heart, a stupid sluggish thing, which beats far too slow to sink into the bounds of normal, truly begins to pound furiously now, desperately, ready to yank free from the cages of bone and fatty tissues, the too dark blood and pale skin. Bitter bile begs to be released as he trembles, helplessly trying to keep the blood from his mother’s side, where it's staining the ground in spite of his efforts, so terribly warm and worse yet—a horribly sweet.

It actually smells sweet.

Bruce wants to vomit.

His heart, a stupid sluggish thing, which beats far too slow to sink into the bounds of normal, truly begins to pound furiously now, desperately, ready to yank free from the cages of bone and fatty tissues, the too dark blood and pale skin. Bitter bile begs to be released as he trembles, helplessly trying to keep the blood from his mother’s side, where it's staining the ground in spite of his efforts, so terribly warm and worse yet—a horribly sweet.

It actually smells sweet.

Sweet like candies do, soft and delicate like cotton candy, like cakes fresh from the oven, caramels carefully salted, but its blood. His stomach, this stupid body, is panicked and horrible and hungry, because the blood is fresh and warm upon his hands, the scent thick and nearly choking upon his nose, and he’s never wanted to throw up more. His vision blurs, swimming, details cast aside as body deforms into dark, bloody shapes, stiff and still, frozen in horror. 

He knows their hearts cannot beat anymore, the familiar pitter patter like rain against a windowsill, the pleasant hum like the fridge in the kitchens, like the distant buzz of a hive at work, is cut. Finished. Struck and left rot, stagnant. 

And still, in spite of him, in some horrible, awful might of the wretched, this wretched body, the smell is sickeningly sweet, fresh and truthfully, insidiously, delicious. His parents, the bodies, are ripe like fruit, sickeningly fresh, coating the back of his throat with the slow trickle of hunger, the stench of buttery baked goods, a touch of saltiness, an overwhelming soft sweetness, just begging for just a single, tiny, bite. Their bodies fell like the too fat fruit hung from the property’s trees, blood splatter like bruises across their skin from the impact. 

If Bruce closes his eyes, stunning backward and hitting the wall, ignoring the rattling breath and horrible hiccups, he’s been shoved into a shop, goodies and treats to be devoured, the very touch of a perfectly soft, heavy cake desperate for his teeth to sink in and finally chew. 

 As the roar of the sirens grow closer, the red ooze coats his trembling hands like syrup, Bruce’s stomach growls, cruelly, and his mouth, betraying, is filled with drool. 

The wretched stain of hunger paints the memory still. 

———

“Master Bruce? Are you hungry?”

No, he thinks, he won’t be ever again. He scarcely even turned his head, rooted to his parent’s bed and wishing it would just swallow him whole, spare him the mercy of existing, the prickling pain of hunger, the choking memory of blood at the back of his throat, oh so sickeningly sweet. 

The funeral was a blur of tears, muddled blurring tones of weary speeches, cousins he didn’t care for, food he didn’t—couldn’t eat, and others he couldn’t make himself swallow. Again, his stomach squirms in the discomfort of hollowness, to be empty, but Bruce doesn’t move. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to do anything. He tries to sleep, but mockingly, it doesn’t come, exhaustion perched right beside him, filling his limbs with concrete, but blissful unconsciousness avoids him like the plague. 

Alfred lingers by the door. Warm, yellow light spills in from around his looming shadow, but it does nothing to curb his vision, darkness and light nothing but a blur, a matter of taste and not a dive into blindness, because his eyes are different, his body is monstrous, and yet he still survived. Untouched the rain of bullets, the spray by blood.

“Not even a snack?” Alfred tries. He can hear the trying smile.

A short sniff, and the speckle of animal blood lingers in Alfred’s fingers, finely chopped chunks of meat arranged in simple shapes, triangles, circles, barely cooked and raw. Savory, juicy, and bursting with flavor to make saliva pool in his mouth. Disgusting, foul, wretched, that makes him squirm. 

But Bruce just buried his head underneath a pillow that still carries his father’s cologne, and trembles. One day it will fade and Bruce will bath it in bottles of cologne to make it stay. He’ll buy the whole company just for a single, fluffed pillow. 

Alfred steps closer. A specific spot along the floorboards creak, announcing the distance, but Bruce can’t make himself care. He just aches.

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to inhale cologne over blood. He tries to ignore how his stomach feels like a knife trying to carve him open, despairingly empty. It hurts. As he sinks into the sensation, clawing and desperate, a gloved hand finds itself in his hair, incredibly gentle, so horribly soothing, undeserved, and he begins to crumble. He is held, gently rocked and whispered meaningless promises, lies of getting better, and they loved you, and I’m sorry’s, but the ache inside him is blooming, swelling, overrides his senses and brings him to tears, clinging onto the touch, starving. 

When he wakes in his parents bed hours later, there is a meal, warm, sitting by the nightstand and a small cup of blood, cool, beside it. His body is a weak thing, shaky and oh so cold. The blankets upon him are thick, suffocatingly warm, windows shut and curtains drawn, but he’s chilled to the bone. His stomach wants.

And it’s right there. 

He brings it to his lips, hands shaking ever so lightly, grabbing bare with his own palms and sees the blood coat it, syrupy. He wants to lick it. He wants to throw up. The body wants to eat. He feels so weak, and his body, this body, it demands and screams and aches. He puts it in his mouth. He wants it to taste like ash and rot, he wants it to taste like chewing molding wood and inhaling dirt, he wants to taste like dirty sewer water, putrid and foul. 

It doesn’t. It’s incredible. 

It’s undeserved. 

[lgcmjun]

fall boys project activity: recording episode 02 focus: writing wishes ► genie in a bottle tree, feat. @lgcakio

September 19 was an exciting day for Minjun. When he met with the other trainees who were in the fall group with him, he knew something special was about to happen. After being instructed to write his wishes on slips of paper, he watched as his friends completed their tasks, but he took time to really think about what he wanted to wish for.

The wish to have a debut, to become a better singer or rapper came to mind and was indeed something he wished for, as well as good health and the confidence to not give up even when things got tough, but in the end there was one thing above all, something that was too personal for him.

he hadn’t thought about his parents and brother for a minute in a while, but as soon as the task was handed, a wish formed in his mind and he was about to write it down on the paper when he noticed the shadow of someone right behind him. 

“oh…! o-ohayo hyung!”, he immediately said, standing up to bow down to akio, one of their mcs for the day and a versus member, of all people; minjun blushed, his broken japanese probably would make the older male laugh about it. 

[a-hazbin-spider]

❛  you're mine to do as i please.  ❜ - valentino

@isforever // dom-sub starters!

Snarling doesn’t work well for him, a haze in his mind and cerise on his lips made hiding the heat sent to his gut far harder on him to hide. His head shakes once before tugging on a chain just to defy. “Vaffanculo- ah..! What’re ya thinkin’- ain’t I been good?”

[brazenlystrong]

@spungolden liked for a starter

He’d heard the whispers, the hushed conversations among the higher-ups. She has been a legend in her time, a former sorcerer who had dedicated herself to helping others, using her abilities to investigate cursed cases and unravel mysteries no one else could touch. Or so... that was what the rumors told. He can't be certain until he sees it himself.

After the Sukuna incident, Gojo is fully aware of the dangers lurking in the shadows. The balance has been disrupted, and it is clear that stronger individuals—be they sorcerers or something else entirely—are necessary if they are to have any hope of defending the future.

“ You’ve been helping others all this time, haven’t you? Even in your current state, you're still trying to protect them. ” More curse users and cursed spirits than anything else.

He doesn't mean to intrude. He's aware that Dio must've chosen this secluded area to be away from society. He maintains a fair distance.

[frightmeister]

MIKEY BOY ( @jesvshotsaucechristmascake ) said "I heard this old theater is supposedly haunted. Want to sneak in after hours and do some ghost hunting?"

Josh gasped slightly, a parody of the kind of shocked gasp a girl like Jess would give in a TV show, slapping his hand over his heart. "Gosh Mike are you... asking me out on a date? Finally, after all this time?" He blinks at him, trying to look all doe eyed (as if he has to work at that).

He's trying not to laugh and actually managing it. He's still surprised at his own capacity for acting. He hadn't known he'd had it in him really until his "prank" but shit if he wasn't gonna keep using it to fuck with them. Mike was an especially fun target since he you know, kinda had a sense of humor sometimes.

[quietlyblooms]

a possessive kiss that is meant to stake a claim .

kiss & tell | oooh @ofurizen wants chiyo soooo bad ≖‿≖

" 'm sorry i didn't listen. "

the words are tired and spoken between rasped breaths as chiyo holsters her pistols. her arms and legs feel like jello -- a side effect of nearly meeting her end at the gruesome hands of a hulking demon. but there isn't a drop of concern for herself in the pools of brown gazing at v. it's all for him. she'd watched as the creature trampled over shadow, barreling towards the man with such ferocity, and as griffon snatched v out of harm's way, chiyo fired without a second thought. her onslaught drew the demon's attention to her, as she wished, but she didn't have an avian companion to save her from being squashed.

she didn't need one. a well-placed bullet ( read: lucky shot ) sent the demon tumbling to the ground, giving nightmare enough time to manifest and v to finish the job. and thank god.

as v's hair turns from white to black again, chiyo worries she's made him angry. at the very least, she expects to be reprimanded after her reckless display. she's only human. a fragile thing like her shouldn't take risks that aren't in her favor, particularly when she was told to stay back.

green eyes finally meet her own, and chiyo shifts uncomfortably beneath the intensity of v's stare. the need to justify her actions rises in her chest, forces words out that aren't as careful as they typically might be. she cares too deeply to hide it very well anymore. " but that thing wasn't gonna give you a break. i couldn't just stand there. what if you got hurt? " the distance between them is rapidly closing with v's long strides. like she always has, chiyo stands her ground and does not move, brow furrowing and mouth twisting into a frown.

but it is not an argument that v wants. he enters her space not to intimidate her but to pull her closer, eliciting a gasp as his gloved hand grasps her jaw and arm wraps around her. he wants her. the realization winds chiyo, steals the breath from her lungs seconds before v has the chance to, and it's almost embarrassing how easily she melts and molds into his touch then, how readily she stands on her tiptoes so that he doesn't have to bend down quite so far. if he wants her, he'll have her.

his kiss is a hungry, greedy thing, and chiyo is nothing but willing to feed it. he need not tilt her head for a better angle because she does it for him, presses closer without the encouragement of a tighter embrace, though she does relish in it. he need not be insistent for she wants him, too; he must understand that when she is so eager to surrender to his touch. take what you want, her body sighs. one hand slides up tattooed skin to rest delicately at the base of v's throat while the other tangles itself in dark strands and doesn't let go. her mind grows fuzzy, unable to think clearly even as their lips part for air, and chiyo meets v's gaze with half-lidded eyes. she feels the rise and fall of his chest, wonders if his heart beats as fast as hers does.

yours. all yours, her eyes seem to say as she takes hold of the hand that held her jaw and turns her head to press a kiss to his thumb, tilt her face into his palm. a smile tugs at her mouth, bashful and teasing all at once.

" maybe i'm not so sorry. "

[embodiiment]

Oh, yes... he can feel it. The unbridled and thrilling fountain of cursed energy flows from this one like water from a spring. Mahito lowers his head in something almost like reverance... but not quite. His mismatched eyes remain locked on the blood-soaked person in front of him curiously.

" Your soul is made of .. something VERY different , isn't it ? " He coos, almost in a tone that might suggest mockery. But there's an edge of genuine praise there.

@huntershowl

[theha1rarch]

@realmyths liked for a starter!

Steve is quiet as he thinks, the things he's wanted to ask the older, more experienced, vampire weighing on his mind. However, he's hesitant to even ask them, not necessarily because he thinks she won't have the answers - but more so he's not sure if he'll like them. It's the type of things he tries not to think about, but it feels hard to ignore them, in this moment, when he has the chance to hear from someone with the experience. "Does it ever get easy? To outlive nearly everyone you care about? To lose people? To make new connections knowing you'll lose them too someday?" He pauses for a second. "It's only been ten years for me and I've never really made any connections I cared about losing ... until a few years ago." And now he doesn't know how he's supposed to ever live without them.

[unlockthestars]

@sunguns liked this post for a starter!

Despite everything that had happened, Neptune was still pretty cheerful. Sun was back, which meant that they were a full team again, and they were in Vacuo, which meant that there was very little by way of water in their surroundings. It was a lot easier for him to seem cool when he knew that he wasn't suddenly going to run into a lake or a river or anything like that.

Plus, having his best friend back automatically improved his mood exponentially. He didn't have to worry about what might be happening with Sun; he could just glance in the direction of his friend to see what was happening.

Physically, at least. He still wanted to talk to him about everything that had happened while he was gone; Sun was usually pretty cheerful, but he'd been pretty quiet when they'd met up again. Neptune figured that probably had something to do with what he'd seen on the train platform, but he figured there was more to it than just that. He may have been trying to flirt with Blake's friend, but he'd also been paying attention.

"Hey, you doin' okay over there, Sunshine?" he asked, offering the other a bright grin of his own, hoping that it might help if he needed it.

[darcyxpalmer]

status: closed with @elijahbell where: nice lil walk on the beach

"We could only do tea the last time, so I figured you'd enjoy this," Darcy said with a smile as she handed over a mug of coffee to Elijah, her own in her other hand. Actual mugs, since they didn't have to go cups, but they could both handle walking with a mug in hand. They agreed to meet up, and she figured she'd surprise him for they walk. (Not that he couldn't have gotten himself coffee, but still.)

"How are you doing? Have you settled in yet? Found a bungalow and everything?" She wondered just what this would be like for Elijah? Somebody who was a free spirit, who fed off of going to new places, meeting new people, never sitting still for too long in one place, now being forced to do the exact opposite of how he lived his life, how he loved it. Even if it was in the simulation, it would be something he held onto, Darcy was sure. It wasn't the result of the simulation, it was due to who he was as a person. But it would certainly make things harder to make it here.

She took a sip of her own mug and then asked cause she was curious and had to know, "Have you met anyone else here whom you've known before we all woke up here?" And then after glancing over at him as they walked, another question, "Has anything weird or strange been happening to you too, since we arrived?"

[advertisesouls]

@out-of-heaven-and-hell sent in: Xifeng is gonna her a blade pressed right against her throat, "Flithy sinner." Lute is here :)

unprompted asks // always accepting!!

Ah, of course this day would come. Though, a part of her didn't expect it to be so soon after the Exterminations were cancelled. No matter, though — being in Hell as long as she has had made her learn to always be on her toes and to watch her back for anyone feeling too opportunistic.

Yet, despite the blade pressed right against her throat, she's not displaying anything resembling fear on her countenance as it's, once again, remaining neutral. Although, she knows very well that just one wrong move or word in this kind of position could very well permanently end her life.

"I see you've come to exact your pound of flesh. I suppose we're forgoing all pleasantries here in that case. Your blood must still be running hot after that day if you're going after me this soon, though I can't blame you. I hope you know that I'm not going to make this easy on you, however."

The air around them begins to feel increasingly hotter and hotter as Xifeng raises a hand up to launch a fireball in Lute's direction so as to try to forcefully make the angel back off.

[tenebriism]

@pcrdiseseekers ;; S T A R T E R C A L L ;; DAINSLEIF .

The Bough Keeper is not one to mind his tongue. He never has been, even in the past when his life, and personality, had differed far greatly from present times. Yet, as he OBSERVES the Traveler in contemplative silence, gradually coming to learn more ABOUT him amidst the spontaneous encounters they have, from time to time, there's one inquiry he seems almost . . . wary of posing. Not for worry of an altercation--- Aether is level headed, REASONABLE, if nothing else, but such does not mean Dainsleif endeavors to upset him, all the same.

It may put into perspective a great many things he, presently, does not understand about Teyvat's cherished savior, though.

" Traveler. If I may, there is a question I wish to ask you. You are free to deny me an answer, if you so wish. " Dainsleif's eyes drift over, lingering, WATCHING Aether's expression for any hint of uncertainty, before he continues. " Why is it that you seem adamant on solving every problem you come across ? From that of a minor food delivery, to a region-wide crisis that could very well bring end to your life before you have even reunited with your sibling. Why, then, do you add to the weight upon your own shoulders if it does not benefit your search ? "