#Also don't feel the need to match length

[babyitsmagic]

@constellaticnsx sent: [ refuse ] sender refuses to help receiver for wilder from andie <3

he gets it. he actually does. if their roles were reversed, if she were coming to him for supplies, he'd also tell her to fuck right off. but he doesn't have time for her to be reacting this way. he doesn't even have time for an actual hunter to get to town. or even to, maybe, desperately, call talia. no. whatever's cropped up in town needs to go now and he's one of the only people here capable of handling it.

and, unfortunately for them both, andie is one of the only people here with the supplies he needs.

"do you think i'd be here if it was fucking important?" he snaps. "or have you not heard about the corpses found yesterday?" it's a small enough town. he doubts she hasn't heard, doubts she thinks it was an animal attack. whatever it was wasn't human. probably had never been human. not a werewolf or a vampire, but something... worse.

[occkalt]

Kat doesn't know what's wrong with her lately.

It's infuriating. If she doesn't know the problem, how is she supposed to solve it? ...It can't be that she's getting scared. She decided a long time ago that she was going to find her dad, and that it didn't matter what happened to her... Never once has she wavered on that decision - in fact, it's the thought of giving up instead that fills her with a stomach-churning kind of fear.

But it's the small things she's noticing. ...Nothing is as fun as it used to be. Anxiety buzzes inside of her for no good reason. Sometimes, she feels as though nothing is real, and she's hit with a fleeting sense of desperation that makes her want to run back home and sleep until everything's fine again...

The worst part is that she's been putting off thinking about her plans. Even though she was so excited about this latest ritual, it feels like that excitement has drained away into nothing for no reason at all. Even Annie has noticed her bad mood as a result, teasing her about it a little, though there's genuine concern underneath that, too.

But today, she's not going to procrastinate anymore. The person she's seeing is supposedly a witch, and Kat's going to get something out of her for sure. Most people don't react well to talk of occult rituals, witch or not, so she'll have to be a little sneaky, but that doesn't bother her at all.

"Hey, this stuff isn't bad!" she exclaims, taking another gulp of her drink. She isn't lying, either - she's genuinely a little impressed. "Looks like you do really know your stuff after all. But hey, you can't blame me for being skeptical."

@magurisu ( starter! )

[gonnachasethestars]

I miss you! I miss you! I miss you! Trust that your heart will always guide you true Soar up as high as @spectacular-solarflare's dreams can fly!

"No, no..."

The tanuki was walking in the rain. He held a clear umbrella along with wearing an insulated rain coat. His eyes were closed, not the best idea, but his mind was all jumbled up. It meant he didn't see a thing in front of him. Shoes press softly on the sidewalk, a gentle splashing sound each time.

Thoughts were on how to design a lens that could do everything. Take a well defined picture of the sun, while simultaneously being waterproof.

B O N K !

Should have been paying attention. Kounosuke walked nose first into a crossing light. A sharp cry of pain was emitted, as he held his nose for a moment. Rubbing it a few times, the tanuki came to the realization that he wasn't the only one here. How embarrassing.

"Sorry you had to see that."

Shaking his head, mostly in an attempt to get the dull ache to go away, he smiled.

"Well, anyway. What brings you out on a day like this?"

Being the friendly man he was, there was genuine curiosity in his voice. Strangers were just friends you hadn't met yet, right? She may not have looked like what society considered normal, but who cared? Goodness knew Kounosuke had been judged when he was younger, generally for his size.

That was the past. He was fully comfortable in who he was now, round, soft body included.

"You'd better be careful not to catch a cold! My name's Kounosuke."

He struck a pose straight out of an anime.

"I'm a photographer from the stars! Hehe."

[solarisgod]

The tension from the chase still haven't left xyr shaken body, even though they are in a safe space together for the past few minutes. Back in Father Lucas' home, Micah closely analyzes the being who calls themself the Doctor. Their existence seems to be beyond Human or Supernatural─ ancient and celestial, a significant speck that holds the endless storms and stars of time and space. Micah is fascinated by them, though, finding that xe isn't the first Antigod that they have met, xe can't help but be cautious. Antigods is a covert species. Most beings don't just know. "Who were the first two Antigods that you met?" Micah softly inquires the Doctor, sipping xyr mug of hot chocolate that Father Lucas offered before leaving them alone, a seeking in comfort.

"Again, I deeply apologize about the trouble." The 3D sentient shadows that ran after both the Doctor and xemself before they've stumbled upon each other, Micah soon slaughtering them with xyr swords. Xe notices a quiver of xyr hand in anxiety and sets the mug on the kitchen table, takes a chocolate piece from the tray. The offer still stands for the Doctor if they wish to eat some sweets. "There's been a several months worth of ongoing incident in some countries where these shadows and reflections became sentient and engaged in invasive behaviours to their sources." Since the Doctor isn't a Human, xe can explain these confidential details to them. Xe isn't working with Break Beyond Force anymore, so xe can't always hide anymore.

"Then they became more malicious over time. It's... how that chase happened." Despite the fact that there's so much that xe can do in times like this, guilt bleeds into xyr voice, everywhere. Micah flinches at the burning in xyr eyes and wipes the tears. Xyr Awareness has been blocked so xe wouldn't know their origin out of respect. Yet, now, if the Doctor can sense what xe is, Micah can at least ask @tenfoldrage this.

"If I may ask, Doctor, what are you, exactly?"

[elysiium]

& 𝐑𝐄.  AURALINE & LEOPOLD WAYNE / @violentdesires

COME WHAT MAY . it was a vow leopold and auraline made to each all those years ago — when she was just a simple girl and he her guardian . when the world was such a perfect place and all they had were each other . a vow never forgotten even as the seasons changed ( winter to spring , autumn to summer ) . as storm clouds gathered , a river wide separating them for a time . even then their love never died . it never would . not even with the end of time . and it did take time for them to get where they are now . by each other's side once again , everything revolving around each other as it was meant to be . yet even after all this time , she never knew that it could feel like this — like she's never seen the sky before . not until she watches her warlock climb those steps , each one closer to her , his eyes bright like the glowing moon . as he stands by her side in front of her court , taking her hand in his , making that same vow . come what may . not just for her , but to her people . to be their king . the king that they need . the king they deserve . her heart sings to him and she knows he can hear it : telling him that she is giving him everything . everything that she is — from that simple girl she use to be to the queen she is now . the tears in her golden eyes reflect back every single memory that took them to where they are now — the good and the bad , and all the good that has yet to come . and when their lips meet , the stars collide overhead ; she vanishes in his kiss , sealing their vow once again . come what may .

with crowns on both heads , they turn to the crowd , standing together . and auraline knows that the greatest thing she'll ever learn is this : to love and be loved in return . together , they are stronger . singing out their song . come what may . and their love , their vow , will strength her court . their court . the celebration that follows moves with such perfect grace — leopold spinning her in his arms , over and over again , the two dancing among their fae until she's dizzy with ' i love yous ' and come what mays and she's out of breathe . she pulls him away from the crowd , feet still dancing as she leads him out of the room and into another — an empty balcony away from prying eyes ( guards standing at the entrance , doors closed to give them privacy , a moment finally alone ) . her cheeks are flushed as she looks to her king , hand still in his . ❛ so how does it feel ? having all of this as yours ? ❜ she asks , free arm gesturing out to their land below them , trees and the hidden creatures in them spanning till where green meets the night sky .

[putaaas]

continued from here ♡

@eroslike

before things come together they have to fall apart. most situations in her life have a tendency to work out that way. just when the young mother is beginning to reach that point of pure exhaustion, stars align so she can see him again. anali doesn't hesitate to take the opportunity and call ethan to relieve some of that tension that might or might not be trying her sanity. just when she's about to snap that she's too goddamn tired for his shit she finds another irresistible reason to stay. the attitude is staying too, until it's temporarily fucked out of her. typically, she disliked it when people called her that. not because it's untrue, but because most say it with contempt. this time, the way he said it drove her crazy because he said it in a tone heavy with lust in every syllable. whatever snarky remark was on the tip of her tongue to bite back at him with dies when the tip of his cock enters her for the first time in far too long. the grip she has around him is a tight fit like the hold he had on her, a thick forearm unyielding against a delicate throat. his voice is hot against her ear, stern and clear enough to cut through the uneven whimpers and moans as he finally bottomed out inside her. a warm hand splayed over the lower part of her torso; anali wondered if he could feel his length pressing against his own fingers as he stretched her out on his cock. the salacious thought lingers in her mind for only a second before his hips settled into a ruthless, steady rythm. anali was already crying out each time he ruts into her. but when his hand travled down to toy with her glistening slit, then back up to her buxom breasts her cries turn into choked screams. the striking brunette spasmed around him as he buried himself so deep her eyes fluttered upwards. her brain was working hard to form the conntection necessary for her mouth to string words together as an answer. "m—mmhn, 'feels like a lot. this feels like exactly what i— a-aahh, needed!"

[dramatisperscnae]

closed starter for @bruz3r's superheavy arc >w>

Once upon a time, Dick had thought he'd never put on the cape and cowl again. Once upon a time, he'd actively avoided doing so until there had been no other choice; Bruce was gone, a murderous pretender was aiming for the title, and it had been a choice between stepping up and going against orders or seeing the legacy Bruce had worked so hard for - the legacy he'd given his life for - completely destroyed. And then Bruce had come back, and Dick had given the legacy back more than happily.

How times have changed.

And yet how they haven't.

The cowl still feels strange on his face, the cape too heavy on his shoulders, but what choice does he have? Gotham City needs Batman, and in the absence of the real one Dick is just going to have to do. Like hell he's going to let anyone else do it [excepting maybe Damian, once the boy is old enough, but that won't be for years yet]

At least this time Bruce isn't entirely gone. Not physically, anyway; mentally…well, the man is still there, but he's not the same. How can he be, without the memories that shaped him? And without those, how can he be Batman?

He can't.

Such are the thoughts on Dick Grayson's mind as he runs the night's patrol. It's been an easy one so far, but in Gotham that can change in the brief pause between heartbeats. And so it does now. He's known the Wayne Foundation was holding a benefit tonight, a fundraiser for one of the Foundation's many child welfare projects, but he'd hoped - in vain, but hoped nonetheless - that it might go off without a hitch.

No such luck. The moment the word of shots fired comes over the Batmobile's radio he's turned the car around while the tires squeal in protest, flooring the accelerator and all but rocketing through the city streets, all with one thought foremost in his mind.

Please don't let Bruce be there…

[evergloaming]

starter for @thiefofcrows!

She didn't spend much time in Little Ravka if she could help it; it made her melancholy and homesick, not for the country that she had never seen, but for the distant land of a half-remembered childhood where she and her mother had lived in a cramped one-room tenement a few blocks away, before Lizabeta sold her labour to a mercher to support Sigrid and then found that her new master had no place for a Grisha indenture's underfoot brat. She couldn't remember if it was a better time or not, but it felt enough like one from her hazy memories that it was best forgotten.

However, it was neutral territory. The gangs didn't operate much this close to the Ravkan embassy with its Second Army representatives, well-trained Grisha with no interest in indulging Ketterdam bullshit on their doorstep, and the cafe did have very good tea, a cup of which sat untouched before her while she tried to look calm and relaxed. For all his reputation as more than a little unhinged - a well-earned reputation, as she understood it - she had never heard of Brekker escalating a negotiation without provocation. She had no interest in provoking him, and if she did, Breina was tucked into a booth on the other side of the cafe with a small mountain of blini to keep her occupied, so it wasn't as if Sigrid was on her own. So why was she this anxious?

Well. For starters, there was the general chaos the Razorgulls had been host to over the last few weeks. Conrad's disappearance had unsettled them all - and Sigrid had had to play up a concern felt for an entirely different reason as she tried to get it under control and made a show of hunting for who was responsible. The dutiful daughter to the man who had imagined himself her adoptive father, who, thank the Saints, was now dead and gone on the Reaper's Barge. She and Breina and Tore had kept their heads cool for six weeks, and nobody seemed the wiser as to what had happened that moonless night by the canal, least of all Conrad Gull's mourning compatriots.

And to continue, there was the matter of Tore's little sister. The thirteen-year-old Fjerdan Grisha was what really kept her up at night, worried out of her mind about how on earth she was supposed to keep Vigdis safe. Had Sigrid been so young when she was thirteen? She could swear she'd felt like a grown woman even then, had certainly been treated like one, but maybe that was just the price of a childhood in Ketterdam. You grew up fast, or you didn't get to grow up at all.

There was no clock in the cafe, so Sigrid couldn't tell if she was painfully early or if Brekker was late, but either way, the waiting was excruciating. He had agreed to speak with her, and if nothing else she was sure he was good for that. With a sigh she kicked at the legs of the empty chair across from her, just in time to see the cafe door open out of the corner of her eye and Dirtyhands himself in the doorway. She waved to catch his attention and sat back in her chair, willing the tension out of her body as she took a sip of her (drinkable, finally) tea. "I was worried you'd gotten lost," she said conversationally, and then grinned. "Should I have given you directions as the crow flies?"

[respondedinkind]

@paramounticebound gets a random starter from me because reasons!

Something must have gone wrong somewhere along the lines.

Ka'anh had managed to reach the hangar - managed to fight his way through dozens of his own kind, sent after him to catch the fugitive and make him suffer for the consequences of not being enough - and even reached one of the many shuttles; How his body still carried his weight at that point he didn't dare to question.

Perhaps he'd just been blessed with an impossible large amount of luck, allowing him to close the doors and start the shuttle before the military was able to catch up with him - he doesn't believe in luck, and yet there's no other reason that explains how he even got out, away into the universe, the darkness of space.

But where luck brought him away from his planet, misfortune decided to intervene, it seemed. The last thing he remembers are the blinking lights of his vessel, alarms blaring from left and right, his shuttle getting shaken and pulled on by forces he'd never experienced before.

A bright light, and then...

A grunt escapes him, followed by a moan that comes from somewhere deep within his core; Pain shoots through him like a bullet, from head to toe and back up, and he squeezes his eyes shut as the taste of sand infiltrates his mouth.

Ka'anh's here, all of a sudden. Somewhere else, somewhere he hasn't been before, stumbling away from his crashed shuttle into the nothingness of what seems to be a vast desert ahead. The wind is merciless, but at least it's breathable; His body burns from the scorching heat, his heart racing due to blood loss and the injuries he's sustained both from his previous escape and the crash on this foreign planet.

A mixture of sweat and blood drips along the curve of his forehead, into his eyes - he blinks it away, spits crimson into the orange sand and continues to move forward... one step at a time. One, one, one, one...

He's alone, he guesses, lost somewhere where there's only the horizon visible at the edge of the world. But then he spots something else... something that looks equally as destroyed as his own vessel, most likely crashed in a similar fashion he has hours ago.

There's a body lying in the sand, on its stomach, close to the mountain of ripped steel. Ka'anh is armed, thank god he thinks, and pulls his bio-coded gun as he steps closer. One step at a time...

The image in front of his eyes turns triple from the pain and he grunts, but keeps standing. His nostrils burn, his body close to giving up, but he has to... he has to---

The gun is pointed at the foreign body, the head that's turned away from him. Raven hair is all he sees, no features, nothing that can tell him whether the other individual is even alive. How did this person end up here, he wonders - and why did their ship went down so close to my own...?

"---Tra!" (Hey), Ka'anh shouts after a while - the harsh wind swallows his voice, so he clears his throat, coughs and spits before repeating himself: "Tra, eiqe!" (Hey! You!)

He wonders if the other is alive - whoever that person is. Appears to be male, that's all he can tell, judged by the shape of the body, but... there's not much else he can work with - not unless he steps closer. He won't, not yet.

[andessence]

@imprvdente // starter call. 

The tour has been a bittersweet affair, to put it lightly. The rush, the celebration, and Katniss, on his arm, tucked against his side, threading her fingers with his, loving him… But the love isn’t real. He knows that now, and wishes he didn’t. The celebration is just as false in many of the Districts they visit; the quiet, drawn faces of the crowds, so full of hate for the two of them, remind him inescapably that their living meant so many other deaths. As if the nightmares, or the numb, unfeeling prosthetic where his leg used to be, would ever let him forget it. Putting on a smile for them seems such a violence… 

Returning to the Capitol for another interview as the Victory Tour winds down is similarly fraught. It is a relief to be back among faces that congratulate his living, not condemn it, but he can only be a spectacle here. These are not his equals. He may be first class among the Districts now, but he will always be worth less than any Capitol citizen. He stands in the no man’s land between the two now, he and Katniss both, and alone. But maybe not irrevocably. 

This interview is for the cameras, of course, and it’s Caesar that sits across from him, but with another — the victor that’s worked her way to the host’s seat: Fish. Perhaps another victor is the only one capable offering him an insight into his new position. Does she feel at home in the Capitol, truly? Or is the estrangement just easier to bear here than in her own Districts, where she is reviled? Could Peeta achieve the same? Does he want to? 

“Glad to be here with you,” he starts, welcoming the swell of applause as he takes his own seat and waves to the studio audience, “all of you. I feel a little outnumbered between the two of you. You know, the ride to the studio’s the longest I’ve been without Katniss in months. We’ll see how long I last.” His smile is conspiratorial, the banter, an invitation to his hosts — an agreement to put on a good show.

[barebcnes]

Plotted, closed starter for @paramounticebound ♥

There's something surreal about the situation he's in; In fact, absolutely fucking everything is surreal about it, and yet here Leonard is, with his fingers swiping across what is essentially ancient technology, so old in fact that he had to do a proper amount of research before even attempting to put his fingers to good use.

Actually, part of him keeps wondering - why does he do this? Why the fuck did he decide to be here, right now, instead of staying somewhere nice for the duration of the Enterprise's repair? He could be literally anywhere, residing at a damn beach maybe, accompanied by a nice drink (Bourbon, definitely) and the ocean beneath his feet while recovering from the recent events.

But no, he's not. Leonard McCy is currently standing in what is most familiar to him: An Infirmary. Not just any, however, but a high-security one belonging to Starfleet, currently housing seventy-two (no, seventy-three!) frozen patients.

Soon it will be seventy-two, however, because guess what: McCoy is actually thawing one of them right now, the one that has caused a massive path of destruction (and a lot of headaches on top of that!). Perhaps he should question himself a bit more; He's absolutely fucking sober and yet here he is, having volunteered to do exactly that.

"---Gonna end up in hell, I guess.", is what he mumbles to himself as the pod opens; He's holding a data-padd in his free hand, continiously scanning the one with that familiar face, making sure he's not dying on him. Putting him back into cryosleep had been the most logical thing to do, but... dammit, he's a living being, that guy named Khan, and he deserves to get a fucking trial like everyone else would.

And, besides that, there might be more to him, actually. More to his story than what they all know by now...

Perhaps that's why Leonard is here. At least to a certain degree. He's human, he's sworn an oath, he's a doctor, all of those things have brought him where he currently is. I can handle him, he's said a few days ago, I have seen what he can do, I have studied his blood - at least a bit, I didn't have much time - and I know what he's capable of. Besides that, I'm a doctor, I have performed an emergency c-section on a damn pregnant Gorn, I know how to wake up patients from ancient cryosleep! (Not that said c-section has anything to do with handling 300 years old icicles, but still...)

Anyways - Does he know? No time to question anything - because McCoy is already here, and he cannot leave anymore. Fuck.

"---Easy.", is what he says next, as soon as he sees a spike within Khan's vitals. It must be unpleasant to wake up under such conditions - the body remains cold for a while, suspects start shivering in an attempt to warm themselves up, nausea usually appears as well as dizzyness and confusion. As much as the anger about what has happened mere days ago still boils within the doctor's core - he's just that, a doctor. He cares for his patients, even if one of them is named Khan Noonien Singh.

Who has been frozen - and thawed - twice by now, on top of it all. It must be even more unpleasant to go through that whole deal multiple times within a rather short amount of time.

"Easy, easy.", he repeats like a mantra, hazel eyes flicking back and forth, focusing on his data-padd and on the man's features. His heart-rate is quite high, which is normal, but also a bit concerning, all things considered. "---It's just cryosleep. You're waking up from it. Try to remain calm and take even, deep breaths..." Easier said than done, but still - Leonard is at least trying to comfort that Augment here.

[faebhaal]

@dracourge ☆ S.C.

In grass surrounded by a ring of fungi lies a skeleton, completely cleaned and bleached from the sun. A myriad of flowers bloom amidst the bones; twisting, turning and peeking up. Including nightshade. How far down do the worms hide? It's beautiful really. An enchanting sight that invokes a feeling of mirth mixed with sorrow.

But she's not so far gone in a dreamy daze for his appearance to go unnoticed. There's a snap of a twig at the same time a toad hurriedly hops out from the ribcage.

"Careful where you step. Don't want to get spirited away, yeah?" It's a joke...mostly. It's highly unlikely that a doorway would be in a place like this. Ithaca looks up and up and up at the dragonborn. Blood on snow, is the image he evokes. The mere thought of blood starts a snowball effect of carnage filled thoughts that she has to quickly bury back down. Normal conversation --- stick with normalcy.

"Did Gale finally get dinner started? Or is he still trying to mediate between Lae'zel and Shadowheart?" There's an awkward little laugh coupled with a lopsided smile. But her fingers --- oh how they twitch; they twitch and itch. "Didn't mean to wander off just...needed to think."

[bugsandberries]

ooooo how about

[ FALL  ] :  sender somehow ends up accidentally on top of receiver, their faces are close to each other but at the last minute sender pulls away. 

with Aster and Aman hehe

This turn of events was enough to surprise him.

Aman had once again shown up unannounced at Aster's place to play their usual games. Aster would act aloof at his gestures and undeterred by any flirtatious advances, Aman would get to pet the baby sneasel that Muffin had father with Mulberry, and then he'd have to hurry along for his next mission.

However, Aster hadn't been paying him enough attention today. Instead, she seemed preoccupied with her phone. So Aman had decided to take advantage of their height differences and pluck the phone from her hands and dangle it just out of reach from her.

And now they had toppled to the floor after a strong push Aman wasn't expecting Aster to muster.

He winces a bit. His bad leg had tried to hold both their weights before he had fallen backwards. One of his hands braced itself on the floor while the other attempted to shield her head from tilting to the side and getting injured. So now, he was flat on his back with Aster's face in his chest, his head cradling the back of her head.

For once, Aman blushes a bit as they both sit up with Aster still sitting in his lap as he does so. His dark eyes watch, wide and surprised by their closeness. The hand that was behind her head slowly trails towards her face, gloved digits tracing her cheek and thumb almost touching her bottom lip.

Fuck...she's gorgeous.

He hasn't had the chance to truly take her all in like this but with the lightning that filter through the window, highlighting her tossled hair, Aman can't help but just stare. His mouth opens slightly, as if to say a snarky remark. No sound comes out. Instead, he finds himself inching closer because it would be really nice to kiss her-

Aster pulls away and Aman immediately drops his hand away from her face. The spell he's under is broken and he blinks, then chuckles.

"Managed to tear yourself away from me, huh?" The teasing comes easily.

[stmulnts-a]

⋯⋯⋯ Addiction is never something easy to get rid of. Tweek knew that, he's always known that. Without m― . . . his parents' coffee, he found himself downing anything that would keep his energy up. Straight black coffee, at first. Then anything from Harbucks with a couple shots of espresso. Then back - to - back Red Bulls. Then he could hardly be seen without a Bang energy in his hand.

Eventually, even that didn't feel like enough.

Despite any withdrawal symptoms, Tweek refused to get help at first, simultaneously refusing to go back to Tweak Bro's coffee. He thought getting past that would be the hardest part. And, yeah, it was hard. Really fucking hard. Even the better days, during that time, paranoia lingered in the back of his mind, joints and muscles ached, exhaustion would come quick if he didn't have a caffeinated drink in his hand.

Long term? Now that coffee and energy drinks didn't work so well anymore? That sickeningly disturbing idea cropped up in his head. Go back. Order a coffee from your parents' shop. What's one cup gonna do? No, get someone else to order for you. A stranger. Give them the money, tell them to keep the change, even.

Fuck, he needed help, didn't he?

He paced Craig's his bedroom, staring at his cell phone, thumb hovering over the call button. He'd already talked to Laura and Thomas, after a long debate with himself, and it was decided: he'd admit himself to a rehab center up in Denver. He just. . . he wanted someone closer to him to drive him up. Craig's parents were great, but he felt like he needed someone else. For emotional support before checking in. So he could say a proper goodbye before they get there.

A twitch in his hand made his thumb press the call button. “Fuck―” Too late now. The line's already ringing. So he just stuck his phone up to his ear, teeth gnawing on the opposite hand's thumbnail. Hoping for an answer.

open to anyone !

[sloane-colbert]

Location: Lethe Ink Time: Saturday night @rivcrlethe

Sloane's foot tapped idly as she waited in the little cafe's line. She hadn't expected there to be a line, not at this hour. But she supposed that she couldn't expect the little shop to stay her little secret forever. Still, as she checked the time on her watch for what had to be the tenth time, she fought back another sigh. Did they have to find popularity tonight of all nights?

The person directly in front of her shot her and her tapping foot a nasty glance that she returned with gusto, before regaining control of the anxious tick. With three people still in front of her, she pulled out her phone to send a quick text to Bil, confirming their coffee order and apologizing for her impending lateness.

Two more people to go. The tapping of her foot resumed completely unnoticed by Sloane, much to the ire of the cranky woman in front of her, though this time Sloane didn't see the look she was given as her eyes were glued to the display of pastries and sweet and savory delights. When it was finally her turn, she ordered an array of treats-- more than two people probably needed but.. well. It was important to hit all of the food groups, right?

"Please don't be upset with me!" She called by way of greeting as she at last pushed through the door to the parlor, drink carrier in one hand, and the little paper bag of goodies dangling in the other. "Or do, if you must. But wait until after we've eaten our dinner, okay?" She flashed her friend a brilliant grin, and set the bag and the carrier down on the counter. "I've brought a selection today, and as an apology for being late, you can have first pick." Her smile faded into something mildly more humble that she's sure didn't fool Bil, though she was already mentally saying goodbye to the matcha croissant sitting at the bottom of the bag.

[tireironmybeloved]

starter for @invidentius

Music is pounding through the speakers, bass low enough to feel in his chest, stirring his heart into a new rhythm. There's lights painting everyone in alternating colors and shadows. It's all brilliantly, noisily alive and he doesn't have to try to think of how to fit in or watch what he says. If people here judge him for some reason, so what? Even if being in this hole in the wall, nothing of a place were to be heard about in the 'high society' bullshit circles, it wouldn't change a thing about how they treat him.

Makes things so much... Easier. Lets him breathe. Appreciate being alive again like he rarely gets to. Like he should get to. He lets it carry him through song after song until he absolutely has to get something to drink.

Sliding through the crowd up to the bar its a shock to see a figure he recognizes. Granted, not one he's gotten to actually meet personally before. He knows from personal experience not to put too much stock in the rumor mill, but it does mean him and Luthor are both on the outs of that circle in general. Which may be something worth exploring.

So fuck it, he's going for it. What's the worst that can happen? 'Oh don't think about that.'

He slides into the spot that opens up next to the guy, puts his arms on the bar, waves to the tender to get a drink, then turns to offer a smile and his hand to shake. "Hi, I'm Jason Wayne. I'm going to be awkwardly honest; I know who you are. I did come to talk to you because of it. It's got nothing to do with any of the reasons why I'm sure your parent or mine would want us to talk. I completely understand if you have no clue who the fuck I am and doubt every single word out of my mouth. How's your night going?"