#verse: tba;

[marshalforgotten]

@cosmicxblossoms continued from {x}

The fight was something eyes witnessed on accident, as she was merely traveling across nations via In-between. The thought of leaving it be crossed her mind, as what right did she have to intrude upon another's territory? Those thoughts were changed however, once soul sight beheld this so-called "Bone King"; seeing his wretched state of the spirit.

She may know very little of the individual personally, but watching one's own kind be reduced to such a deplorable condition felt unnerving if not downright insulting. No, she would not stand for this. Thus did concealed primate inform Maya that she would be out of town for an indefinite amount of time. Keeping up her human appearance happened to be important, but this felt more so.

MK's words temporarily gave her pause, making a frown appear on countenance. She supposed him taking notice eventually would be inevitable, but changing tactics did present challenges at times.

"...And so does the pot call the kettle black," she muttered, before promptly turning to face him with a faux grin and hands akimbo to sides. "Requesting help, from a thief? You and that famous warrior truly are in a real pickle, huh? I suppose I can help, since you asked so nicely." Strangely enough, hidden baboon felt that this would be needed, so she endeavored to drain plenty of medical herbs dry beforehand.

[quantumstarpaths]

@hoovedrycal said: " It is called morphing, it is an ability that we Cervids have."

Blue eyes widened as he looked at the other, a small smile pulling at his lips. He knew he shouldn't treat the other as though he were a science experiment, but there was certainly something fascinating about this ability, and Paul was unable to help himself when there was something fascinating.

"Morphing..." He turned the word over in his mind. It certainly made enough sense, and was easy enough to figure out. "How does it work?"

[chronal-anomaly]

@clawsextended asked:

[ rescue ] sender carries receiver to safety. @clawsextended I just think every so often selina deserves to do the hero thing. || nonverbal conversations ( accepting. )

If Lena were conscious enough to do more than groan and shift her weight, she'd be quipping at the woman in some perpetual back-and-forth the pair always shared. The ground spun by her, quickly, nauseatingly, and she resisted the urge to get sick again. Selina would kill her if she ruined the catsuit.

Hard concrete found her, body deposited in a heap behind something that could be called cover. Behind her, the petty criminals - four, they seemed manageable - scattered, their boots slamming into the ground as they attempted their escape.

New to the city and already causing trouble. There was something to be said there, a lesson learned in the dark red that stained the front of her t-shirt. Lessons, painted in blood, scorched in scars, and left alone in the gutter.

Lena grasped at the tendrils of consciousness, weaving them together into awareness. The cool rain felt pleasant on her feverish skin, dark sky looming above. Tacky blood dribbled from the crown of her head, and something gaped and pulled at her sternum. Whatever they had shot her with wasn't pleasant.

Grasping in the mud for a phone, a weapon, something concrete that she could hold. The cat being her savior felt real, felt close, but memories are unreliable things and moving wasn't quite an option yet. For now, Selina was gone from the limited view she had. Lena pressed a sigh through her teeth.

"Bollocks."

[thusaliar]

@asternovi: [ inspection ] Carlo inspects P for injuries after they fought a carcass together. "You have to be more careful..." ｡･ﾟﾟ･🦋 - from 🐝  *  ―  𝑵𝑶𝑵-𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺.

✧ ˚ · .

Turning back the time without Sophia wasn't a possibility for him anymore; if he got destroyed, it would be the end for him. Still, even knowing that, he was reckless in a fight. P could take a lot of damage and still get fixed, he was a puppet after all. His brother, on the other hand, was not. Perhaps he wasn't as human as he used to be, with everything that had happened to him, but Carlo's body was still much more fragile.

P huffed softly, letting Carlo check on the damage. One of the carcasses got too close, and P jumped between it and his brother. He defeated it in a matter of seconds, but it managed to hit just before that. With one eye closed due to some of the scratches landing uncomfortably close to it, P looked at his brother. The wound he was inspecting was much deeper than the scratches on his face.

"I'm fine." he said shortly, coming off a bit rougher than he intended. After all, he wasn't used to being taken care of like this. Up until Carlo woke up him, P always fought alone and took care of his damage alone. Having Carlo fuss over it was new and not unwelcome either. P simply didn't know how to react.

The damage the carcass managed to do luckily wasn't anything serious, but would still require taking care of. The equivalent of bleeding to death for a puppet would be the loss of oil that kept his body on and moving. He could shut down if he lost too much of it and that could be an issue. P reached for his belt but sighed when his hand landed on a discharged pulse cell. Well, that's unfortunate.

"I'm out of pulse cells." he admitted to his brother, looking away. Perhaps the odd feeling in his chest was shame or guilt. Requiring getting fixed and the lack of pulse cells would clearly slow them down now.

"Are you alright?" P finally asked, raising his hand to rest in on Carlo's shoulder, trying to draw his attention.

[awkwardcourage]

starter | @soulmissed

It's a rarity in New York to see the same person twice. There are some regulars that come to the shop, but that's different. It's not a random person on the street. Hughie's never interacted with him, but he sees him, a lot. A teenager, just a kid. Always with a backpack and yet Hughie always sees him within school hours.

It's tricky. It's not a good idea to just walk up to a kid and ask why they're not in school. He doesn't want to phone the police either and get the kid into trouble. He knows nothing about him, but he still gets the feeling that something isn't right. So, for a time, Hughie is stuck, frowning after the young figure dwarfed by the bag on his shoulders.

Hughie had been convinced that there would never be an opportunity to figure things out, but it arrived sooner than he expected. One was going out, another going in and they colided. Hughie nearly sent the kid sprawling.

"Whoa, hey, hey, are you alright?"

[starsasunder]

@wingedthorne, cont. from here.

Though nostalgia was often wont to color the memories of childhood golden, Penacony was somehow exactly as she remembered it - neither dimmed nor brightened by the years. The din of the Reverie brought memories rushing back, and as Inanna stepped lightly from the ship that had brought her hence, she clutched her suitcase close and peered up in wonder. But she had little time to appreciate it, her thoughts derailed by the sudden murmur that rushed through the surrounding crowd. She had just enough time to spot him before they closed in, the mob of awaiting paparazzi pressing close as cameras flashed and newshounds yelled for her companion's attention.

Robin, the darling of Penacony, had returned home at last, and of course her brother was there to greet her. As shouts rose around them, the Bloodhounds pressed in, shoving back the most aggressive of the reporters. Space cleared around them and Inanna missed what was said between siblings in the midst of the chaos, spacing out a bit as she nervously edged closer to the pop star's side, Robin her lighthouse amidst the storm. It took only a few moments for the crowd to be pushed back and some amount of calm to be restored, but during that time Inanna receded into her thoughts, so much so that she did not notice his approach until he was upon her.

“Ah, Miss Issar, it’s lovely to have you with us again,” Sunday said with a smile barely concealed as he offered her a welcoming bow, “and I see you’re our newly esteemed vendor for spirits. May I take this as a sign that you will be spending some time on Penacony? And if so, may I consider this the beginnings of a wonderful partnership between The Family and the Luofu?”

Her ears flicked at the sound of his voice, familiar and yet much deeper than she recalled. Dragging her gaze away from the Reverie's grand sights, she greeted him with a smile that grew quickly once she spotted his own. "Sunday," she breathed, finding that the noise of the landing platform faded away entirely when she focused on him - a blessed relief for someone who disdained crowds as much as her.

Her hand had been taken as if on cue, gloved hand holding it firm as Sunday brought it up to press a chaste kiss ‘pon her fingers. Golden eyes flickered up to her, his smile pressed faint before he pulled away. Time and presentation, immaculate as ever. To an outsider, he was merely greeting an old friend in pleasant surprise. “Hm, yet you must wish to settle in your rooms. I will call upon you this evening – unless you wish for an earlier time?”

"I see you're still a charmer," she huffed, a faint flush of color rising to her cheeks as his lips ghosted across her knuckles. "Do you have any idea how good it is to see you?" For a moment he stunned her, all effortless grace in a way he had never been when they were children. Then she remembered herself, and all the training she had undergone to be a sufficient representative for her family's business enterprise.

Sketching a Xianzhou-style bow in return, she rose and tucked a silvery-blue curl behind her ear, needing something to fidget with. "Later is fine. I know Robin has an entire itinerary to fulfill, and I bet the two of you would like some time to catch up." She could take some time to settle into her suite, perhaps explore the dreamscape a bit on her own. She would vastly prefer that to the storm of politics and pleasantries that would inevitably follow in these two's wake.

[feiiizhu]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⟡⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅|| @bolinity - liked!

ㅤㅤ❝𝓗as anyone ever told you how cute your turtle-duck-butt hair is?❞

[muttakutagawa]

its going to be a long walk home

[marshalforgotten]

Four monks, four primates. Who do YOU think would represent each celestial monkey well?

[timeclipsed]

❝That's the spirit, tater tot! Rip that bald twatwaffle a new asshole!❞

[truly-quirkless]

[@mxndjxcker || Because we are both filthy enablers (/lh).]

First day of school...Fin hadn't really been thinking too much about it, to be honest. Outside of hiding from the kids who went to do their first round of Hero course training, they'd mostly stayed away...until the final bell had rung, and they were all but sure a grand majority of the students had gone home. That was when they'd been wandering the halls of U. A.,...

And spotted a student, still in the halls. Their head tilted slightly, letting their pace increase from its moderately-slow walk to a more average speed.

"Kid? Whatcha still doin' on school grounds? Didn't th' bells ring...I'unno, an hour ago?" They slipped their phone out of their pocket- eyes sliding over the time before finding the teen's visage again. Their phone was once more pocketed, head tilting slightly to the side. "Y'waitin' on someone?" Although this didn't seem like 'waiting for someone'...

More like 'getting the courage to leave'. But- Fin had never been that good at reading people unless they were actively threatening them, so...who were they to judge?

"...or do y'need a minute...?" They stopped short of the edge of a safe distance, far enough away to quickly leave if it was wanted- or walk closer if they thought it was needed.

[goodcryunicorn]

Cheryl Blossom // OPEN

who: Cheryl Blossom when: unknown where: Cheryl's residence open to: anyone triggers: none image triggers: none blog: @goodcryunicorn2

"Hey, just thought i should give you a call, say hi and whatnot” Cheryl told he friend from her phone as she looked herself in the mirror, being in Amalfi was exactly what she needed for the Summer after all the drama back in school.

[il-mostrc]

For once, Hannibal wasn’t the object of interest in the room. It was an invite he had agreed upon, for social circles overlapped, and he properly declined a hosting for this month. There was a reason for this: to scope out the room without being accosted by others in favor of offering their delighted, sugary words of doting admiration of the meal that he had tediously constructed with his proper flair. The ethic butcher could properly put down the knife and gaze upon the market of his guests.

He wore a dark blazer, buttoned up with his merlot vest and equally deep shade of a Balthus knot patterned tie. It was a move to allow him to blend in with the backdrop of the low-lit estate for aesthetic preferences. A red wine, nearly matching the color he chose tonight on his person, swirled within his glass as he let his eyes do most of the talking in the room.

Hors d'oeuvres of delicate delights made their rounds on silver platters; even here, he eyed their construction. Muted conversations took the frontal lobe section of his mind, dissembling some entrees and reworking them to what he would showcase.

A familiar scent took his gaze from the event and fictitious smiles; he knew this aroma well enough by now. Her (@stingslikeabee) face materialized in his mind before he even placed his eyes upon her. She was what a few called ‘new money’ at least; she was ‘fresh’ in a sense to the area. While most of the people who invested in these parties had their fair share of years upon years of promoting their brand, Melissa was reasonably new.

He could also detect the expensive, nourishing skincare lotion she used. It wasn’t from the United States, a scent he was all too keen to detect on the streets of Paris in his youth.

He deduced that she blended in wonderfully. How her smile outshone even those who were known to reach theirs to their eyes. She was well aware of the company that others kept, and with a passing gaze and a light brush of their mingling, he caught her words—whispered but clear.

“He’s waiting for my first mistake.”

He matches it, though his gaze is a full sweep of the room, a head leaning in as he brings the wine glass nearer to his lips. The words echo within the shell of it, directing preciously in her range of hearing. “I believe a full room is awaiting it.” Rising as she was in the social constraints of this tier, there were still people out there who whispered of her past. Even he had his ears pricked when her name was on the tongue of others.

It intrigued him.

The wine cascaded across his tastebuds, and he closed his eyes to soak in the flavors before speaking. “No matter what the platter looks like, swallow it all.” A common mistake those who were newly introduced to this circle endured. Anyone who graced their expression with disapproving lines was met with a cold shoulder and a curling lip.

“At the very least.. the wine is exquisite.” He lifted the glass, offering her a small toast.

[amberedcorpse]

DUKE | OPEN

Deucalion couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good drink. Days of traveling had run his reserves pretty dry, and he’d had to penny pinch just to keep himself fed long enough to reach town. One would think a man like himself, busy as he was, would have more in his coat than a knife and a concealed holster. But money left marks, trailed, just like the motes of black smoke he blew out of his mouth. Better safe than sorry. Besides, there was always more money to make, more people to send across the bridge…

In fact, he’d spied one such person a few times in his periphery, slipping in and out of view, but ever present. Duke didn’t bother to wonder why he was being stalked so soon and merely took it in stride. This far in the game, who cared if a few stragglers tagged along? 

Again, he had a glimpse of the shadow covering his rear, having drawn closer as the streets turned dark and lonely. After a few draws of his cigar, he paused as if deliberating on what to do, until he very abruptly turned around. 

“Hey!” He flicked the ashes off his cigar, and caught the haunting shade before it slipped back into an alley. 

“The least you could do is give me directions! I’m fucking lost over here!”

[thrucrax]

CONTINUED FROM   →   @arthisan

{Star man!} the smiling spirit spoke into his ear, Bert's own lips rose to match, a small but bright thing, {we must say hi.}

“This early?” Faux surprise in his voice, he steps closer, a polite amount of space left between them. His coat protected him from the morning chill that bit his ears red. “I thought bakers were the only ones that got up this early,” Bert felt a twinge of guilt then; speaking another's name with familiarity that wasn't shared, but he had read so much, it had been impossible to walk by in silence, “I'm sorry, I'm Bert by the way, guess I did jump out from the dark at you. Didn't expect anyone else out here, got excited maybe.”

[thusaliar]

continued. @ervaurem

P knew all too well that it didn't hurt. He experienced it himself before, and although unpleasant, it didn't hurt. One could think of it as a blessing, but was it really? To him, it felt more like a curse.

Especially now, when he was holding his friend close, watching him die in his arms. Die, or shut down? Many would call it that, but P couldn't. Romeo was a puppet, there was no denying it, but at the same time, he was so much more. He could be so much more... Romeo wasn't hurting, but P was. It was all his fault, he knew how everything would have played out, yet, he still brought his dear friend here. Why? Was he seriously hoping that Geppetto wouldn't try to take his heart this time around? Idiot.

Holding his friend's mechanical body close, he leaned in to keep him closer, as if that would keep him around longer. His heart was pounding loudly in his chest, and the springs synchronized with it in a consistent rhythm. He was as human as he could be, and the recent events had left him feeling flooded with emotions.

"I shouldn't have brought you here. It's all my fault." P wasn't angry about Romeo attacking him; after all, he was merely forced to follow the orders, bound by loyalty to his friend and the past. The fight lasted long and for a long time, P tried to stop Romeo without hurting him - only to finally realize that there was no other way.

So the fight ended just like the first one, except for P holding Romeo in his arms, watching his body slowly shut down. This hurt, hurt so badly.

"I'm sorry." he said quietly, watching as Romeo's eyes looked at him, and yet somewhere past him. And just like that, just seconds later, he was gone. It wasn't the first time he saw him pass, but this time it felt like his own springs were about to stop.

A clicking noise followed through the chamber, and P knew what was about to happen; it wasn't his last fight today. But there was something he had to do. 'I'll always be by your side.' Romeo's words echoed in his head. P knew what to do.

Gently, he lays Romeo's body down, taking one last look at his friend's face. Maybe it was good he couldn't feel any of it, for once. Reaching with a hand, he gently lays it on top of the puppet's chest - this time, it wasn't the legion arm he was using. He was gentler.

P could feel it right under his fingers, the gentle warmth and pulse, soon enough followed by a bright blue right emerging from the body. Romeo's Ergo was right at his fingertips, but he wasn't about to use it. Instead, just like with Sophia, he lets it rest within his own body, close to his mechanical heart. For a moment, he felt lightheaded, but then he felt a familiar sense of warmth.

Romeo was safe with him.