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Closed Starter for @rxmandrake

"....Yeah, It was really terrible, I think it might have been rabid..." Her voice carrying through the apartment, Charlie hoped the closed door to his bedroom would keep Roman from hearing as she spoke to the officers she'd called to get ahead of it all after she'd gotten her exhausted Roman to pill supported sleep.

. "...We barely got out of there, it all happened so quickly." Giving the officer an appreciative look as he inquired to the state of her boyfriend. "Neither of us got hurt thankfully besides my head of course." Much worse for the wear after the beating that had proceeded Roman's change, Charlie had attributed it to the 'near mauling' and considering the level of carnage downstairs, there was little reason not to believe her. No Human could have caused that.

"...I'll just take a cab to the hospital, I don't really have any insurance right now. Thank you for offering, though." Smiling at him as he turned to leave after taking her information, she closed and locked the door behind him, making her way back to the bedroom, surprised to find Roman awake when she peeked in on him.

"Hey..." Still not entirely sure what she'd seen, or what had happened, her confusion didn't erase the affection in her expression. "I took care of everything."

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requested by anonymous

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Open to: Supernatural Characters Plot: Aspen is a plucky little sunshine and rainbows serial killer who accidentally summoned your muse. Basically that's it lol. Tw: Blood, death, gore, all the stuff basically I guess lol

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Ever so softly the dulcet tones of a hummed rendition of Rockabye baby filled the now conspicuously quiet space, melding and lacing through with the heavy coppery scent of blood that clung to nearly every surface. Blood angels all around in the massive puddle next to a partially dismembered young man, she lay stomach down between them, heels kicked up and swaying back and forth with her self made music. 

As red as the room itself, painted in the cruor that had seeped from exposed arteries, a hand painted with freckles hidden with drying scarlet, reached out to dip a finger into the slightly fresher blood. Leaning forward over out of the reach of the puddle, random and abstract designs were left behind on the white tile of the man’s kitchen, her own pretty little art project. Looking over as she bumped something, it turned out to be a foot, which she rolled her eyes and shoved away with her knee before going back to her doodling.

This one had been so disappointing, he’d died too fast. Barely past the ankles in her mission to dismember him at almost every joint, intending to sew them back together again. Making dolls was no fun when they died too fast, it made the blood stop flowing too soon. Still, she could play in it at least.

 What she hadn't expected was one of her doodles turning out to be the sigil of some sort of entity. So, it's sudden materializing in front of her was enough to have her jumping to her feet with a yelp, dress pulling from the floor like Velcro as the drying viscera released its reluctant hold. "Bro, that was so cool. Buddy didn't tell me his roommate was a magician!" In fact, he hadn't mentioned a roommate at all, but who was she to judge? She was probably going to have to shut this one up now, too, anyway. "Nice... look..."

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"Plucky?" The words was spoken on the back of a scoffing chuckle, head shaking ever so lightly as she brushed away the word, though it melted back into a sound of mild concern at his wince. "Keep you from getting all bruised and battered, apparently, but you know what they say: you gotta pick your battles." His charm was easy and sarcastic, and Charlie never really took it seriously, more than used to being little more than faded wallpaper, forgotten the moment after your eye moved on. Plain and in the background. Still, it was nice to get a little flattery every now and then.

Even if he was absolutely adorable in the way he just indulged life, a thing she'd never been able to do. Hell, she'd never even left the six square blocks that encompassed the neighborhood around her apartment. For all that there were dangers there, in an area known more for poverty than anything else, it was the place she felt the safest. The reputation of her brothers alone was enough to generally her maintain her safety there, even if it meant she got most of her socialization through her job at the diner.

"I don't got much..." Digging in the pocket of her apron for the prescription pain medication there, the bottle, though unlabeled. "It's just a little Tylenol with Codeine, but it should help." It helped her get through the day, anyway, though she generally took only a half a pill at a time. Just enough to keep her back from stopping her from working.

"Take one of those with you coffee... where's your first aide kit?" Speaking as she got up from her seat, Charlie pushed her sleeves up on her way to wash her hands at the sink, too lost in preparing herself to sew him up to realize she'd revealed circular burn scars that peppered her fore arms in varying sizes and states of healing, as well as a band aide over what was most likely a fresh one.

frank blew a raspberry, waving her statement away. “ppbbt. i live for this shit,” he truly, truly did. there were private investigators that were… more on the up and up than frank was, but he got results. he was worth the money, at least in his own opinion. still, the concern was nice. though he teased charlie for caring so much about him—his skills were worth the money, but that was the extent of his worth—he really did appreciate it, and didn’t want her to think that he wanted her to stop. of course, he could never voice that, so he let her know by allowing her to fuss over him as much as she wanted. “my personal nurse and plucky waitress—what can’t charlie do?” frank winked his non-injured eye, then promptly regretted it from the pain that bloomed on the opposite side of his face.

he hummed happily while she fixed his coffee, knowing his order down pat from how often he stopped by. it was a delicate balance of one vanilla creamer, one hazelnut, and two packets of sugar—any other combination was unacceptable. “ah-mazing, thank you!” frank wasted no time as he opened the box and darted right for the jelly-filled donut that consisted of about forty-percent of his diet. the benefits of his office being next to an all-night diner, as he sometimes slept on the couch in the corner if he was too lazy to go home for the night. 

wincing as she pressed a dampened paper towel at his forehead, he took a large bite of the pastry and then washed it down with a hearty gulp of coffee. he realized he wasn’t minding his manners, but he figured charlie was used to that by now. “i guess so,” frank could’ve gone to the hospital, but he owed them money from the last time he got his ass kicked and it was a kelleher family maxim that going to the hospital was for pussies. “you got any pain meds on you or do i need to break out the whiskey?”

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"You're so lucky saying that will get you out of anything." He'd always known just what to say to hit right at her center, from the very moment they'd first met, the butterflies had yet to cease. "You're so stupid charming." It had felt unfair at first, that he'd been able to smooth talk her into literally anything, speaking poetry into her that she was only mostly sure he truly meant. "No fair... speaking my song at me." Or at least the one he said was about her, the one she was only most sure had to be.

Pulling back from his lips to drink in his face, Ember lowered her lips to trail along the sharp edge of his jaw and down to the crook of his neck until-

Stiffening a little as she took another sniff of his collar, another smell riding on the coattails of cheap bourbon. Floral. Cheap perfume with it's sticky artificial notes. Pressing her lips back up to his ear, and back down his jaw, speaking her words onto his lips as she kissed him again. "So how many groupies were hanging off you tonight?"

Ember’s affirmation of the teasing promise kept the grin right on Asher’s lips. “That’s my girl,” he replied, tone proud as well as playful. “Love it when you get dirty with me. It’s one of my favourite things about you,” he added, words spoken right against her ear as they walked together. Even when he was drunk and high, Asher had a way with words. It was partially why he’d had such great success as a singer songwriter.

After they’d turned the corner together and gotten to the waiting limo, Asher looked around briefly to see a crowd of baying paparazzi in pursuit. He winced for a moment at the flashes against the tinted windows, but when he felt Ember’s soft touch against the lock on his forehead, he forgot all about the press. Instead, he turned to her with a loving smile. Again, despite his inebriated state, he was sharp enough to catch the implication of her words. He smiled and chuckled gently. “Love you too, doll,” he murmured, meeting her eyes with a fond gaze as he added, “Nobody else I’d rather do life with. Nobody else I’d trust to pick me up when I fall.”

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Lacing her arm around his own, she falls easily into step besides him, thankful that he kept his pace slow to match hers considering she was basically walking on her toes. "Oh, I don't mind a little dirt." It's not like there wasn't a dry cleaner in New York that couldn't get out just about anything.

Finding herself blushing at just the sight of her doing so, Ember gave a little look a Callum who got the hint right away. "Think of all the free marketing, the farmer and the heiress, it'd blow up the internet."

Forever thankful at her friend's quick thinking, Ember nodded with an only slightly theatrical gasp of pleased surprise. "That is such a good idea. I mean, talk about a touch of authenticity. You look great, like... really.... really great, actually." Eyes drinking him in for a moment, she seemed to get lost in his eyes for a moment before regaining her composure. "If you don't like them, we can totally just delete them."

"It's all right, the grass'll survive. I just don't want you comin' unstuck."

Isaac hadn't planned on offering an arm, but he's also not stupid. He knows fishing when he hears it, and today he's in the mood to indulge the pretty lady in his apple orchard. He crooks his elbow for her to take.

"Sorry if there's a little bit of dirt - I was out in the front gardens this mornin'. I'll try not to get any on your pretty outfit." Isaac starts to lead them towards one of the more popular spots he knows of for photos - before her comment about getting him in photos has colour rising in his cheeks. "That's very sweet of you Miss but I'm hardly the billboard type. I prefer to stay out of pictures, generally." Except for the ones his mother forced him into.

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I should probably do a pinned post at some point, huh?

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Someone give me a demon for my bubble gum serial killer muse Aspen to charm pls and ty.

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Shout out to characters who want to be used. Shout out to characters who are so desperate to be worth something that they'll endure anything. Shout out to characters who build their entire self worth around being useful, being a tool. Shout out to characters who don't care how they are treated, as long as someone pays them any attention at all

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THE MUMMY 1999 — dir. Stephen Sommers

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What are you doing here Penny? This is stupid... even for you... The thoughts played over and over in her head as she'd had one of the boys take her to the office. Now, all that practice in her room felt like silly childish stuff, just like the idea that she ever could have made it in the film business had been when she'd come here.

Dressed in the outfit she'd be wearing in the cages to dance once her shift started, at the very least she could take from the confidence that she knew she looked good, and knew for a fact she brought in decent money the nights she managed to claw her way onto one of the stages. Maybe, just maybe... she actually did have a good idea, and hopefully the gnawing of it at her would cease.

"I just thinking that like... a training boot camp for the girls would mean that all the talent is at the same... like.. level. Across everything. No girls that can't dance, or can't do stunts on the poles, or can't carry a tray full of drinks. That way you're weeding out the hopeless ones from the ones with potential and those that make it through will be putting the best face forward no matter the night of the week or venue. For the brand. Like Playboy did with the bunnies and Victoria Secret with it's models." A pause as she thought about how best to get it across that...

Branding is everything these days."

The reverberations could be felt within their very bones, the music loud enough that it made conversation difficult through most part of the club. Friday night, and it was business as usual; wall to wall bodies of dancing individuals that were drinking, among other things, various small deals occurring in the more shadowed areas, and the a few feedings that were all but hidden from the sights of the humans that were there. The exact setting that he loved seeing. It meant money and kept things flowing. Towards a smaller room in the back, Alexei sat, comfortable on a plush couch. Eyes were focused solely on the individual sitting across from him. A sense of amusement was felt but not at all shown. His expression was a stonewall for now.

"Listen," he started and leaned forward, elbows resting against his thighs and hands hanging loosely. "The pitch? Not bad. But, I still haven't heard why any of this is worth my time."

Muse: Alexei Popov, vampire, club owner (bars, dance clubs, exotic dance clubs), controls the blood trade

Open: all

Plot: Your muse is attempting to secure some business with Alexei. Could be human, could be supernatural. The business could be something small or a huge deal that a lot rides on.

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Annie Murphy

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kristine froseth.

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By Unknown for Crescioni Collection - 2017

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The cloak was made of a chunky semi circle of bear fur hide, rough cut but finely finished along the edge with fine hemp fiber threads to give strength to it. Tied to the long black bear fur with the same finely knotted thread were the feathers, beads and other small interesting and brightly coloured trinkets. Thin strips of fabrics, old and faded were also tied about, bulking up the entire thing enough to give significant size to the small woman.

Though petite in frame she was well muscled through a life of constant movement, her clothing beneath the cape also made of hides, but patch worked into something akin to a vested top tied closed in the front with a leather string, and pants of the same. Among the tans and brown pieces of every shade were faded denim and floral patterned chunks. Scraps from items that had long since disintegrated from their original forms.

Many of the pouches tied to the leather belt around her waist were made from cotton besides those which had held her water. Even her shoes, though mostly punch sewn leather, had pieces of denim on the top of her foot almost decoratively. There was no identification, no pockets or means to carry but the pouches on her belt and attached to the hide side of her cloak, but those held herbs, rocks for her sling, crushed and powdered minerals, and dried fruits.

Eventually coming around, her first real conscious realization was movement, and that sent her into a momentary panic as she shot to sudden wakefulness, blinded by the light in the strange space. Like a startled cat she'd begun to thrash about defensively, but the first press of her leg in attempt to put her back to a safe corner pulled her so abruptly from her shock that it forced her to take in her surroundings. It was His face that slammed her back into the present, reminding her of what had happened. Eyes wide and confused, her gaze flicked from him to the cabin around them, back and forth as if unwilling to let him out of her direct sight for too long.

By the time he was finally done treating her wound and looked at her face, he felt a bit of panic realizing that she was unconscious. Bad sign. "Ah non. Non, merde..." He grabbed her shoulder, giving it a light shake in hopes of waking her up. "Ne t'évanouis pas maintenant!" No response. His panic was rising steadily, exacerbated by the fact that he had no idea where she lived and therefore, no way to bring her home. With no proper alternative, Tylio decided he would instead bring her to the cabin. It took him a moment to scoop her up into his arms, her heavy cloak weighing her down considerably. But even with that, she was still quite light. Light enough for him to carry her through the woods for twenty minutes and then into his cabin, where he placed her on the bed that hadn't seen a single living soul aside from himself, for over five years. But he didn't have time to think about how strange it was to have another person in his space.

He checked her vitals—her breath was fine, as far as he could tell, and so was her pulse. He checked her forehead—warm, a little too warm, he feared she might catch a fever soon so he covered her with the thickest blanket he owned. On top of that he placed her cloak, but not before searching it. He had hoped to find a phone, possibly with the contact information of people who might know where she lived, but there wasn't one. As he watched sweat gather upon her pale forehead, he hesitated. Maybe he should drive her to the hospital. But it was several hours away, and her wound was already treated. He decided he would wait a little while longer.