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“Honestly, human history might be the best dark comedy I’ve ever read…”
5+ years RP experience.
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[[Apologies for the low activity here, I’ve been working on some personal projects, including an OC blog that I’m debating with making an illustrated ask blog out of, to get myself drawing again. If you like weird supernatural horror settings, feel free to follow!]]
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Reblog if it is okay if your muse is hurt, severely injured or tortured in RPs.
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[[If you’re ever feeling bad about your writing, just look up some of the more now-obscure but popular fairytales and fables. Look up the Bricklebrit tale. This is the sort of thing that people have accepted as a way of storytelling for generations. And, if we’re honest, still do. You just have to make it accessible to current generations. That’s all.
On a related note, doing research for non-canon Fables for Fabletown is ridiculously entertaining.]]
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murraywolfmanmanson:
“I’m 25.” He feels a little slighted at being called ‘kid’ and ‘pup’ and the like. Murray hasn’t been asked for ID in years- most people actually assume he’s older most of the time.
He furrows his brows and tightens his hold on the shoulder bag strap hanging across his chest.
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“You’ve not done a good job selling this bar to me, mate.” He says, before sighing. “But…I guess I could go for a drink.”
“That’s the spirit -- and I do mean that, it’s not the sort of place you go to for the quality of the spirits.”
The Half-baked Moon, as it turns out said bar is called, is a Mundie bar, for the most part, although Bigby is hardly the only Fable who prefers to drink outside of Fabletown, where he’s just another scruffy face in the crowd at the end of a long day. He doesn’t notice anyone familiar at first glance, and the rest of the patrons are doing a pretty good job of staying involved in their personal staring contests with their drinks.
Just the way he likes it. 
“Sorry about the grilling back there,” he says, sliding into a booth that is mostly clean. “You know what they say about old habits.”
+murraywolfmanmanson
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trustmeimawitch:
Victor hadn’t bothered with many formalities either, but he didn’t point it out. Instead, he angled his head back some to view him. He took in his appearance and his words.
He took another drink, letting the alcohol sit in his mouth. To pretend he hadn’t known about such things was not in either of their interests, so he didn’t feign any surprise. He even had suspicions on who the culprit might be. Swallowing down the bourbon, he signaled for a refill from a nearby server.
“And you want me to issue a cease and desist?” 
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“For a starters, yeah. Unfortunately, if it were as simple as asking, I wouldn’t be here.  But... you probably knew that.”
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Life was simple, once. Centuries ago, when he didn’t actually measure time other than as passing of seasons and his main concerns were filling his belly and staying the biggest, baddest beast in the forest - whether by blowing his enemies away, or, preferably, eating them. 
He remembers those days with less fondness than he would have expected, but the lack of responsibilities was nice.
Not bothering with waiting to be invited, Bigby slid into the seat across from the witch and gestured for another glass to be brought. Perks of being (mostly) his own boss, drinking on the job was entirely okay by him.
“Problem with this sort of thing -- usually by the time the people up top notice it, it’s already got a pretty good foothold in the lower end of the community. We can’t allow outside magicks - messes with the balance of things, not to mention the economy - and at the moment our resources are stretched too thin to be able to track down how many of my people have been using your services. Getting pointed towards you was the next best thing.”
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trustmeimawitch:
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“That certainly does make it easier, hmm?” He took a healthy drink from his glass before he went on. “What do you want, then?”
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“Honestly? I want you to make my night a little easier by skipping some formalities.” Not that Bigby often bothered with such things anyway, but it was late and he was running low on both time and patience. 
“Let’s just cut to the chase here. I have reason to believe your ... institution - or at least someone within it - has been selling blackmarket glamours to members of my community. Normally I wouldn’t give a shit, as long as they are keeping their public appearances up, but it has the high Craft people on my end’s hackles up high, and they’re uneasy, so am I.”
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“Good thing I’m not interested in a club membership, then.”
{{Open}}
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“The Hallowed Circle has no interest in new members,” Victor said dismissively.
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wolf playing in the snow
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Reblog if you're on team "don't touch me without my permission but if you have my permission please never stop touching me"
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heroninflight:
“I’d be surprised if they knew anything about it.”, Jace interjected, tense creases forming between his brows. “Those are Shax demon eggs. Well, they were.”, he held out his hand for the container, wiggling his fingers as the doctor seemed loathe to give it up.
“By the looks of it, we have five freshly hatched ones running around.”, he looked up at Bigby. “They’ll be hungry. Very, very hungry. And I think you can imagine what’s at the top of their meal plan.”, his face was a mask of tension. “I have to call in backup. Two or three I could handle, but five and an adult? That’s beyond what even I can do.”
“No.” Ignoring the protests from Dr. Swineheart, Bigby retrieved his carton of Huff’n’Puff cigarettes and proceeded to light one up. “Sorry, kid, but we’re trampling a lot of red tape already just having you here. You saw the way the people here reacted to you on the way in? Imagine the way they’ll act if a whole platoon shows up. Right now, your partner is me, and that’ll have to do.”
He exhaled a stream of smoke - it was pungent to the point of eye watering, but it drowned out the smell of the decaying corpse and ammonia and whatever that weird, prickling scent that came from angelic blood was. “You aren’t old enough to remember the days before the Treaty, but most of them out there? They do. They lost friends, family, and already after having lost everything else they had just getting here. The last thing I need on my hands is a riot, on top of demons running loose in town. So here’s what we’re gonna do - you’re gonna tell me everything I need to know on how to deal with these things, and we’re gonna hunt them down together, then we’re gonna find whoever summoned this thing in the first place and you’re welcome to haul them back to your Institute to mete out whatever justice is necessary.”
Contraband Curses: Fables/Shadowhunters RP
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heroninflight:
The reply to the unusual name for the doctor was a barely raised eyebrow before Jace took that last step over the border. The hairs on his body seemed to stand on end and his skin prickled as if under static electricity, just for a moment and then it was gone. The thought that he was now entirely out of reach for his friends didn’t exactly let him relax, however.
He held pace with the sheriff, eyes flickering from face to face, lingering longer on some than others, but never too long on those with glamours. It felt like vertigo, trying to see through the magic. Two pictures overlapping each other and fighting for dominance. It was impossible to describe, but it certainly wasn’t a comfortable feeling.
He kept quiet, watching, even as the pretty girl with the blond corkscrew curls approached them. Pretty, but as all the Fables, even the human looking ones, she set his nerves on edge.
It was only after most of the Fables had left and they had stepped into the building that Jace spoke. “I’m used to attention. Good and bad. I don’t take it personal.”, he replied. “If I did, I wouldn’t be able to do my job.”
Dr. Swineheart turned out to be a severe looking man with piercing blue eyes that looked at Jace as if he wanted to dissect him. Jace had the uncomfortable feeling, that wasn’t far from the truth.
“Ah.”, the doctor said and that simple expression said everything about what he thought of Jace’s presence there. “The Nephilim.”
“Shadowhunter.”, Jace corrected with blade-sharp smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Jace Herondale.”
Dr. Swineheart’s brows climbed up his tall, narrow forehead. “Interesting. Care to elaborate on the distinction?”
“I don’t. You’ve got a body?”
“Yes, of course. The dead girl.”, the Fable said and turned, but his eyes seemed to linger on Jace even after he had turned his back to him.
The body was nothing Jace hadn’t seen before and if the two Fables expected a reaction, they would be severely disappointed. He leaned closer, hands behind his back, and squinted at the injuries. His stomach twisted uncomfortably. “Did you find anything in the body when you opened her up?”, he asked, glancing up at the surgeon. “Something that looked like eggs?”
“I wondered when you would ask. I was trying to determine what these things might be.” Swineheart pulled out a samples container, which held several fragments of — something. Calling them eggshells was a bit of a stretch of the imagination. They were too fleshy, darkly-colored, covered in some kind of membrane that kept them still gooey, even after having served their purpose.
Bigby stared hard at the container, frowning. “Did you show this to the 13th Floor?” The surgeon gave Bigby a withering, long-suffering look that said ‘of course I did, you plebeian mongrel’ without ever actually saying a word.
“They said it’s nothing of their make or experience.”
The Sheriff nodded. He had expected as much, or he wouldn’t have the Shadowhunter involved in the first place. “Okay, kid, you clearly already have an idea of what we’re dealing with. You think something… hatched in her?”
Contraband Curses: Fables/Shadowhunters RP
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First-Time Interaction starter sentences
“I realise you don’t know me, but please help me, I think I’m going to pass out.” “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I saw someone put something in your drink. You didn’t drink from it already, did you?” “I got robbed and have no way of getting home. They got my phone, so I can’t call anyone. Could I please borrow your phone?” “Shit! Sorry, I didn’t see you there… Are you okay?” “Charlie! Imagine seeing you here!– Oh. Wait, you aren’t Charlie…” “Excuse me, I was looking to get my girlfriend a bra, could you help me– You’re not the shop assistant, are you?” “Watch out for that truck!” “Is this your wallet?” “You look very different to your profile picture…” “Look out where you’re going, asshole!” “Did you see that?! He had a gun.” “Are you the girl/guy from So You Think You Can Dance?!” “Err– I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was just walking behind you and I think you must have sat in something…” “I know I don’t know you and this might sound really strange, but do you have a room or a spare settee or something I could crash on? I could pay you… I just… I really need someone to help me out right now.” “HELP ME!” “Oh my god, are you okay? I’m calling the police. I think I saw who did this to you.” “Are you alright? You look really pale.” “The whole street is blocked off. The police won’t tell us anything, but I think there’s been some kind of attack… Maybe a bomb?” ”Have you lost something? Can I help?” “Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?”.
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- I need to tell you something. - What is it?
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heroninflight:
Somehow, Jace wasn’t surprised by the posturing. It was the same game he played with Downworlders every time. 
He managed not to roll his eyes, but it was a close thing.
“Absolutely. Wouldn’t want any mishaps because my angelic energy shortcircuits your magic.”, he nodded and if there was sarcasm curled around every word, well, they had more important things to focus on.
Hands loosely clasped behind his back, Jace stood tall, but relaxed. He let the once over happen without comment. The Fables wanted a Shadowhunter. This is what they got. What was the point in hiding?
The question drew Jace’s brow upwards. “Just all my life’s worth.”, he replied drily. “It’s kind of my job. Look, if you’re done being territorial, we should get on with it. Because I’ll let you in on a secret: Demons really don’t care about jurisdiction.”
Bigby passed the boy a glare but decided to let the sarcasm slide. They had bigger concerns for now, and he didn’t want the trail getting any colder while they made a show of bristling at each other. 
“Come on, then. Let’s see if you can tell Swineheart something he doesn’t already know.” That would be worth it, just for the chance to see the doctor’s irritation, but Bigby kept that bit to himself. 
He saw one of the boy’s tattoos flash when they passed over the Fabletown border, but it seemed to be a passive reaction. It must have been an interesting sight for the Shadowhunter, seeing glamoured Fables strolling around in broad daylight with their more human counterparts. The residents of Fabletown were quick to notice a stranger in their midst - Mundies passed through from time to time, and their presence was not deterred for the sake of the local businesses, but the spells in place made sure they took very little notice of the place. 
It had been well over a century since the last time a Shadowhunter had entered Fabletown, but Fables memories are long, so it took no time at all for gawkers to start forming a crowd, following at a safe distance. Bigby tolerated it until they got close to the hospital, then rounded on them suddenly, growling, “Don’t you people have jobs to get back to?”
“What’s that Angelblood doing here, Bigby?” Mrs. Web demanded, ever eager to be in the business of others’. “This is in violation of the treaty!”
“I know the Agreements, Mrs. Web. I was there when they were written. This is official business, which means the lot of you need to clear out.” The last part was barked with such force that several Fables openly cringed and backed up. Some of the wiser had already made themselves scarce, deciding their curiosity wasn’t worth the wrath of the Big Bad Sheriff. The spider’s wife huffed a moment more, but after giving the Shadowhunter a lingering glower of suspicion, turned and stalked back to her grocery store.
“Best get used to that. We’re a paranoid lot.” Bigby muttered, in a not particularly apologetic tone. 
Contraband Curses: Fables/Shadowhunters RP
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