#(thread.)

[nomadjones]

Dallas: Oh? How come you let it slip? Or is that something you can't say? 🤐 Dallas: Poems are cool. I can't say I've read many and I've never definitely never written any but props for the talent. Dallas: Are they about anything specific or do you draw inspo from anywhere? @shyneknight

Shyne: Sometimes? That usually depends though. I also hate to admit, I once had a good story and let it slip as I felt too bad about it.

Shyne: I actually write poems and I was working on my own book as like a little passion project. Not sure I'll release it to the world or not, but - it's been fun to write when I have the right mindset for it.

Shyne: I believe I do, just not sure when, but definitely will at some point. Might be good for me.

[alfiearmstrongs]

open for: @aurorabaystarter

where: under the sea (where de newt play de flute, de carp play de harp etc) prom

"I'm getting hit with the most vivid flashbacks at random every time I look around, not all of them ones I want to revisit," Alfie jokes with a mild grimace, looking to the person closest to him with a somewhat hopeful expression, "You got any good stories about this place? Shenanigans and such."

[chaosscales]

@chaosinternalized || While he might have only just learned about his other persona's existence, the lack of his presence was concerning, if not hurtful. Perhaps willingly staying at Harrow's side when he had woken up after the whole incident with Ammit's Ushabti was a deterrent for Marc, but it shouldn't be enough to keep him away permanently... right?

After all, Khonshu was gone, and Steven was far from qualified as far as getting them out and safely went.

And Harrow had upheld his word- don't instigate and he'd be kind.

Was that why Marc was missing? Because he knew he wouldn't keep his cool around these people?

"Um, Harrow, I'm sorry to bother you, but I just- My mum. I call her every day, and it's been a bit. I was wondering if you'd let me reach out just to touch base. I've, um, I've also got a little fish in my flat. Do you think I could get him? Or, at least, see if someone can look after him? No one really knows he's there. His name's Gus-"

If it seemed like he was beginning to ramble, it was only because he was. He was nervous and alone in enemy territory, but Harrow seemed to be kind enough.

Maybe he wouldn't be so cruel as to deny him these simple things.

The water in the sink ran red, and Harrow shut his eyes against it. In his head Ammit was hissing, scolding him for going too far in his last deployment, and in his heart he knew she was right. There was always a less violent way to accomplish anything, and he'd only been uninspired.

But it had been a rush, and that he couldn't deny. Since becoming Ammit's Avatar, Harrow no longer felt tired, hungry, pained, and so penance was hard to come by. And without that constant reminder, it became near impossible to resist the urge to give in to baser instinct.

Ammit healed every wound Harrow inflicted on himself before he could feel the sting of punishment, blessed be.

I'm sorry, he thought. I'm sorry, I can't help it, I don't deserve to serve you, I can't stop, I'm so sorry...

By the time Steven's voice reached his ears, the water going down the sink drain had already turned clear.

"...what?" Eyes shutting, Harrow steeled himself, then turned the faucet off. Without meeting Steven's gaze, he kept his head bowed, recalling with some frustration that Steven was part of his duties, too (even if his stomach twisted in jealousy at the memory of Ammit calling him good, and pure, and worth preserving).

"I'm sorry, Steven." Sorry. All you have to say is sorry. "I was a bit distracted... what was that, about your mother?"

She's fucking dead, is what she is.

Harrow's head lifted, seeking Steven's gaze in the mirror with a slight smile. "Please. I'd like to hear your requests in full."

[obligatorial]

@whatthefuckdidido, semi-plotted starter.

Leave a man starving for long enough and the fight was bound to drain out of him. Gavin didn't need much beyond physical exhaustion, and as he leaned against the doorway to his basement, he admired the sight of the man laid out on the mattress.

He was spoiled, really. Gavin left pillows and blankets and a pitcher of water he made sure to refill (and if there was a bit of crushed pills and other medication in there to make him sick and weak, that was for his own damn good). There was heating down here, which was perfect considering the winter weather, and the chain was long enough for him to piss on his own in the working toilet. If Gavin were meaner he would be holding the man's dick for him to control even that-- but as earlier stated, his new housemate was spoiled, and autonomy was a privilege.

Gavin was quiet as he came up, walking towards the mattress with a plate in hand. The sandwich on it was made with as much care as everything else: meat, cheese, tomatoes, lettuce. He'd even removed the crusts in an act of goodwill (spoiling, always spoiling his poor baby). It was a week since he first encountered the man, and a week since the guy so kindly let him sit beside him on a bus. That meant it'd been six days since he first took him to live here.

"Sweetheart," Gavin murmured, reaching a hand out and curving it gently on his shoulder, "I brought you breakfast.

"It's been a couple days, huh? You must be starving."

And while soup would be kinder on an empty stomach, there were always thresholds to these things. There was only so much spoiling a person could take before they turned out rotten.

[borawinters]

Bora: When have you ever known me to care about either of those things? @selindogn

Selin: Except you haven't been invited, Bora. Selin: You're not needed Selin: Or welcomed. @borawinters

[kodiakjackson]

open for: @aurorabaystarter

where: utp / choose ur own adventure!

"Where's the best place around here to get a drink?"

[reggiellewellyn]

reggie 📱 peter.

Reggie: You know, you could make a real killing if you were spinning those decks in Ibiza Reggie: Have you ever considered 👀 @peterbasara

[ziggykyeons]

for: @aurorabaystarter // closed as of 08/10/24.

where: sunrise winery

"Be honest," Ziggy all but demands, his carving knife in hand as he stands beside his freshly carved pumpkin to present it, "Does this look like complete garbage or is it kind of giving?"

[buddywellls]

Buddy: That's not a bad thing to want and it's definitely something you deserve. Buddy: But chasing it from someone who can't do that is just going to leave you further and further from it. Buddy: Tell me you're at least dating around and having fun too. Buddy: It's been a long time since I've actually been looking for something from someone for more than a night. I think if I was though I'd just want someone that I know is just for me. Buddy: Problem is I can't promise to be that person for someone else so it's kind of a selfish want. Buddy: I haven't but I want to! Buddy: I rewatched the OG and then that sequel everyone forgets about. I can see why they do. It sucked. @dilcne

Lorna: I just want to be loved, I think. I want someone to look at me and just know that they want to spend the rest of their life with me... Lorna: Okay, yeah, seeing that typed out, he absolutely cannot give me what I want. Lorna: What do you look for in a person? What do you need from someone? Lorna: God, that movie was terrifying because I can imagine that's super accurate to what it would be like. Have you seen the new one?

@buddywellls

[ravirussell]

for: @aurorabaystarter

where: dealer's choice!

Armed with a tennis racket in hand and a ball, Ravi let the fuzzy green sphere roll along the strings as he sought out an appropriate space to practice. Like most temptations, wanting to actually hit the ball got the better of him and his swing serve accidentally launched the ball further than he had anticipated.

"Hey! Duck!"

[keolalagaaia]

keo 📲 mavs.

Keo: If I ask you did you manage to get VIP tickets for chella again this year are you going to ruin my day by saying yes? 🥲 @maverick-liu

[visioncursed]

Who: @codie-mohren Where: Random Port Liery street, at night

It wasn't an obsession. Jamie was just... concerned. She still hadn't been able to shake the dream she had about this girl, and she had to do something about it. Something was up — her dreams were never wrong.

First time it happened, Jamie followed Codie from Kore's shop back to her home. She made sure not to be seen, staying far enough away for plausible deniability while still keeping an eye for anything suspicious.

She found out where Codie worked a few nights after that. By the end of the week Jamie knew most of there was to know about the werewolf.

It wasn't an obsession.

When the news of the Primrose Park attack surfaced, Jamie's first instinct was to flip through her dreams journal to connect Codie to the events. The original vision she had about Codie was violent and cruel... it didn't quite match the news but maybe?

The following night Jamie waited a couple of blocks away from Doughfellas, on a path knew Codie would have to take. Arms crossed, feet shaking, she waited while her anxiety built, until the familiar figure finally walked past her.

"Codie?" Fuck it. It was now or never. "What are you doing here? Don't get me wrong but you have to be really brave or really stupid to be out here alone after the news the other day. Psycho on the loose and all that."

[santiagodeleons]

When Benji highlights what a fucked up joke his confession is, Santiago has nothing to say.

There was nothing funny in his words and there was no joke being made badly or otherwise. All there was was two friends and a fresh fracture that felt like a tectonic shift under the weight of Benji's anger.

He had anticipated as much which was why he had chosen there and then to come clean but he hadn't expected it would materialise in anything more than words. The first shove catches him off guard and sends him a little off balance, a stumble backwards that he quickly recovers from, tensing in brace for another that he correctly guessed would follow.

Without the element of surprise and with a strategically timed side-step, the second one barely lands but it irritates him as much as it would have if it did.

"Put your hands on me again Benji and I'll break one of them."

Santiago's the one doing the shoving now, executing it with half his strength and no desire to be pushed to follow through on his warning.

( There was enough broken between them without seeing what other ways they could damage each other. )

When he's faced with having to give his best friend a why, Santiago wishes Benji had of just swung on him instead. He would preferred broken jaw or a bruised nose over having to actually examine his own actions and the last year of his life.

The truth was too hefty a thing to admit to and he's never been comfortable with feeling vulnerable, except for with one person who in her leaving it felt like she had taken everything that had made him a person with her like a souvenir.

He doesn't want to admit to how lonely he's been because then he could no longer ignore that it wasn't a temporary state of being.

He coudn't admit to how often he drank these days because then he would have to stop.

He would never tell him that finding out about the loss of the baby he had wanted more than anything else had corroded what little capacity he had left to care about much of anything.

That just left the facts.

"Because I wanted to."

There didn't seem much sense in trying to soften it, there was nothing he could say to do that.

"Because she wanted to too."

All he can do is shrug and hope that in telling the truth that Benji might finally see the one that's always been there hiding in plain sight.

( He's not sure he's ever been a good man, not when it mattered. )

"Because I'm an asshole and I wasn't thinking about anything beyond that. Including you."

@benj-hyun

“Say what?”

Benj has to ask, because he truly has no idea what it could be. And Santiago’s entire demeanor has him worried, but he quickly learns that out of anything he could have worried about, he never would have guessed the word’s that fall from his mouth. 

Abrupt, quick, and not drawn out. It’s like a fist to the gut, leaving him breathless, but not the good kind of breathless. 

He feels the burn of shame color his cheeks, and suddenly the man in front of him, the man who Benj had thought to have been the only person who wasn’t tied back to his roots in Texas that he considered one of his closest friends, strips himself of that title. He’s just another selfish asshole that Benj seems to collect.

“That’s a real fucked up joke there,” he starts, his tone warning. But Santi is not the sort to joke about this sort of thing. He might give Benj shit from time to time, for justifiable reasons. He wouldn’t ever joke about sleeping with not just one of Benj’s exes, but the only one he thought at one point that he might’ve been spending the rest of his life with.

When that clicks, the anger surges forth with hurt, razor edges in his scowl and all the force he can muster up to plant his hands against Santi’s chest and shove him. Clumsily, as his buzz still holds onto him, and his shamrock sunglasses fall comically crooked on his face.

“What the fuck do you mean you slept with Delilah?!” He tries for another shove, mostly because Benj wouldn’t ever have it in him to try and throw a punch. 

( And if he did, that match up wouldn’t end well with Santiago’s considerable size against him. )

“I don’t mean what you mean, but why?!”

@santiagodeleons

[wolfliviia]

Who: @photoaria Where: Infamy

It was the first time Olivia was out since everything that happened with Yuisa and she felt like a completely new person. Her scars were healed, but more importantly, she felt confident, sure of herself and where she belonged. She was a god damn Warwick werewolf and it felt incredible.

So yeah, she was more daring the usual. Her clothes showed a little more skin, she didn't turn away whenever a girl looked at her direction, she even decided to drink a little — a first for her. Olivia didn't know how long this rush was gonna last, but she wanted to make the most of it while it lasted.

The few times she'd been to Infamy before consisted in her arriving alone, dancing alone, and going home alone. This was the night she was going to change that. There was a girl in the bar she'd seen before once or twice and she thought was beautiful - she decided she was going to make her move.

"Hey! I'm really sorry to bother you, but I was just over there and I can't take my eyes off you," she approached the other with a smile, her heart rushing with excitement, "I would really like to buy you a drink if you'd let me".

[zimwy]

they're at a party. some avengers thing, or maybe the hellfire gala--barnes hadn't been paying attention when his invitation was extended, affixed stare on steve's soft lips, wondering what they would've felt like on his neck. he's been efforting over the course of--god, nearly a year now--to pull on a thread he thought existed inside him, delicate and gossamer. did steve like men? more so: did steve like him?

he wasn't sure he'd call himself a man in the traditional sense--he was something more sinister and sweet at the same time, more like a walking dose of poison, something decidedly feminine slumbering in his heart he had no desire to try to understand.

but you looked at him and saw a man, typically.

normally, bucky hates these kind of galas. the winding halls with chiming, hanging glass, ocean blue statues standing sentinel at every hall junction, probably worth more than his entire life, were all so gaudy and excessive. normally, he'd find some corner to hide away in, eyeing a set of double doors, mapping out every nook and cranny to find cover if it went up in flames.

this time, bucky doesn't even entertain the idea of locking into soldier mode. not in the typical way, bunkered down in a trench, german bullets ripping over head. today, bucky and natalia have traded suits for the fun of it, the mystique of the unexpected: yeah, she'll like that, nat had said, adjusting the cut of his dress (though he wasn't sure who she was; emma?). sleek black in color, it opened at the back, lace hugging each end, a viewing port from the seam of bucky's spine to his neck. his hair, thick, gorgeous shoulder length curls has been pinned up against his head, ringlets framing his face. lets see those eyes, gorgeous, she'd joked, grinning.

he didn't have to tell natalia how he felt about steve. she already knew. maybe that's why she'd done this--to embarrass him, or force the truth out into the open. fuck it. he'll play along.

on the main floor, he sidles up to rogers whilst he's mid conversation, notes how awkward and stiff he is. the people he's talking to don't know him, or they don't recognize him behind the makeup and trussed curls and pretty dress; the prosthetic is carefully hidden behind an image inducer, appearing whole, the fleshy marks where the metal connected even obscure. his real arm loops steve's waist, and it's easy to play the bubbly one-too-many-cups-of-champagne trophy wife, giggling in a trained, feminized voice as he embellishes a truthful recount of steve saving his life. the details are vague and obscured, but the core is entirely honest.

he feels steve's entire diaphragm tense, one hand cinched at his hip, the other perched loosely around his chest. though the metal hand cannot feel the heat of his skin, it knows the weight of touch, the perception of it.

bucky gets the couple to leave. easy, no one likes bothering with someone shitfaced. they were all easy to read.

' lets get you some air. ' steve says, slowly. he always sucked at this kind of thing.

they circle up a winding staircase, and bucky only drops his grip when he realizes no one else is up here. sweet as always, steve pulls away with little force, gingerly prying bucky off of him. he approaches the edge of the balcony that overlooked this side room. bucky had already been up here--high ground was an ideal location for figuring out where your exits and entrances were, what paths to take in the event of an incident. they weren't just here for fun, but--

his heels tap-tap-tap at a fluid pace when he works up the courage to close the distance, his heart racing hard between the xylophone bridge of his ribcage. enough isolation for a bit of privacy, but anyone who looked straight up could see if they got too close to the rail. he decides he doesn't care anymore.

' i noticed nats wearing the suit, ' steve says, and bucky wonders if it was intentional, deflecting away from what had just happened. that hadn't been remotely necessary. bucky had done it to impose himself. ' you guys coordinate? '

bucky's bare shoulders lift and fall. the image inducer fails, soft-appearing skin snapping back into hard compounds, adamantium, vibranium. he never liked the inducers, finnicky tools. ' she thought it'd be funny. ' his voice drops to it's natural cadence for a moment. he doesn't mention the attire was meant to be provocative. easier than stripping down to some fine dress pants and nothing else. bare legs and stockings and heels and the tantalizing plunge over his chest and back--that worked a hell of a lot better, even on men who weren't particularly interested in men. especially them. suddenly it always mattered less that the pretty thing looking up at them wasn't what they knew as a woman.

once he's close enough to touch, he lays his natal hand against steve's strong, thick shoulder, massages at the muscle there. with heels, he almost meets steve's height, and is tall enough he can lean into his back, lips at the shell of his ear, breathy. ' come dance with me, tiger. '

@perditos