#int. inside.

[mrofontaine]

FOR: @delphine--stclair WHEN: September 24'. WHERE: Delphine's residence.

It'd been on his mind for a while. Transitioning out of being on Delphine's detail -- he needed more, he didn't just want it. The ups and downs of the last three and a half years was monumental. And in that, he'd finally managed to find some kind of purposes. Protecting her life, although he'd never outwardly say it, had been one of the biggest achievements in his life. Something he'd never thought would've been possible before Évelyné had put him forward for the position.

Olivier, though, dreamed of rising in the ranks. And becoming more than a personal body shield for someone else. There was an art form in what he did, there was no doubt. And yet, when he was around Yves...he admired the man. His and Delphine's relationship had always been contentious, with a fine, fine line between friendship and hatred. To which, they'd teetered on the edge so any times.

Bored, was what he was. Standing guard by the window, he'd spent the better part of the last hour silently checking people wandering past, and rotating in the room for anything that was thought to be untoward. Clearing his throat, he realised he'd hardly spoken today, an uncommon trait for the giant that was towering in her home.

"Is there anything more you need to do?"

[mrofontaine]

The second he'd got the call, he'd been out the door.

And he made it there in record time. Quietly, Olivier listened to the demands that Yves made, the way he leads. And as always, in his current state, it sparked a deep-seated respect that had grown and grown over the last couple of years. So when he heard that "sit" was an invitation—he took it without a stutter, or a stumble.

This was fucking bad. This was all kinds of shit's gone side way, and while most would've seen this as his chance to prove himself, especially because Yves was notoriously difficult to impress, but looking down at the blood and damage that'd been caused by the assault — he gestured towards Yves. "Why don't you let me take a look at that while we chat? Got some training for when I protect Delphine."

The city was on lockdown, kind-of, and living in Kensington had been enough to know just how fucking bad it was. And still, his concern was zoning in on the wound.

"Want me to try Gio?" Pulling out his phone. Olivier waited until he was completely out of the room before he voiced his opinion. "Patrice is useful enough, but only when pointed in the right direction." pulling out his own cigarette, placing it between his lips. "But you need more than just useful." he paused, taking a drag. "I can be your eyes and ears, or your hands, whatever you need. Just tell me where to go, and where to keep pressing." Flicking the ash from his smoke.

@mobscene-starters For: Anyone who's important and French. Mostly Commandants. Location: St. Clair Estate, Greater London. Date: 21/8/24.

"You should really go to a hospital. Get that checked out..." "There are already nine members of this organisation in the hospital tonight, Patrice. Let's not fucking add to it unnecessarily, hm?"

Utter moron.

"Be useful. Find me Vincenzo Vespucci. If I see your face here again and he's not standing right behind you, I'll break your fucking legs. Are we clear?"

Perhaps luckily for the petrified man before him (and the integrity of his spine, for that matter) the Frenchman's tirade was interrupted by the announcement of an arrival. Yves didn't blame them for taking some time to get there. Central London was, for the most part, on lockdown after what'd happened. Trying to get in or out of the city was a feat, and given that most of them were congregated right at ground zero, he was surprised to be joined by anybody at all.

When Patrice finally scarpered, Yves looked toward his new company. Fixed up the collar of his bloodied shirt. Lit a cigarette.

"Sit down."

[predninja]

Julikar is like a toddler: always needing to eat things that look slightly edible

[benjaminvox]

FOR: @mobscene-starters EVENT: The Camp Out, 24' WHERE: Main Bar. Post initiation.

Not only was Melissa in a better mood for knowing her tent was among her more refine tasted, it'd unfortunately, been soured just as quickly when she'd spotted who her partner was: and while Benjamin couldn't pretend he'd been ecstatic when he'd found of whom he would room with -- it was better than the likes of the Italians.

Of whom, he hoped to never see again. Especially Giordana. It was sickening, the way he had a cane with him at all lines, tucked away so he could pretend at times that it didn't ache and groan with every passing hour that he was stood on it. And yet, in typical Benjamin fashion, he persevered: because, deep down, he knew Melissa was close by, undoubtedly watching him.

The perk, gratefully, was the free alcohol he'd been given with his new found status for the weekend. Was it possible that Giordana would find him, choke him out and take him room for the night? Maybe, if his room mate hadn't been Roman fucking Baranovsky. He grunted, downing the remainder of his drink, and turning to the bar.

"Can I get another please?" it was the presence to his life, though, that had him side-eyeing as his glass was quickly replaced. "So, what? Poor tent means..." he paused to sip his drink. "You wanna be my friend now?"

[taruruchi]

hehe 😼😼😼

[jjcocker]

fixation mashinging. Id Say.

[sleeepydraws]

I legit haven't touched this since LAST YEAR, April 2024, and I'm only now riffing off it

These two have the best dynamic. Hands down.

[cotilliond575]

Interiors of The Fernbank Museum of Natural History

[maksimkurylenko]

FOR: OPEN TO ALL. TAGS: @mobscene-starters WHEN: March, 2025. WHERE: Haringey, his bar. Unamed.

While some saw an empty shell when he'd brought the building, Maksim had a vision. This place had everything he'd needed in order to get it up and running. The bare bones were in tact, and the beauty of the architecture spoke for itself. This had been his own, something outside the shadow of his family: the one he'd always been cast in. Viktoriya's brother. Arkady's son.

He'd heard all the nicknames: the psychopath and the tyrant.

This, was his and his alone. A goal. One he'd been determined to see through. There'd been intention behind every design marker, the location and the clientele it'd bring.

Vastly different from his sister, Vika's. On purpose, as to not raise competition.

Turning, he spoke without facing them. "The contractors will be here soon, they've made great progress already. Can't believe we're a few weeks away from actually opening the fuckin' doors."

[sky-kiss]

/Bats eyelashes/ What if we backed ourselves into a corner and both had terrible daddy issues? Also, Haarlep.

In other news: were you aware that succubi and incubi have telepathy? That sucks for Raphael.

[eliapson]

Ophelia Thompson. 28 años. Directora de relaciones públicas en una prestigiosa firma londinense, con experiencia en manejo de crisis y construcción de reputaciones para figuras públicas y grandes corporaciones. Played by Tay.

🔗 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 • tag.

[blcssom]

closed for @thursdaygrl - plot in source !

"look, i know getting dumped sucks... but you were way too good for them anyway! honestly, you gotta look at this as cutting your losses." she perched on the edge of their bed, nudging her knee against theirs. "besides, you haven't been single in forever. now we may actually get to spend some time together."

[avalior]

@paddyfuckheathens

"Christ, you're a sight for sore eyes."

The wound at his side throbbed as if in remembrance, puckered flesh pulsing and beating as though the scar was torn anew. The Anne before him seemed a strange commingling, new and old at once; the same Anne of the Avery and an entirely different woman all together. The memory of a suppressed laughter, lofted by a cry of 'We plead our bellies!' and Anne and Kidd both determined to give the British defiance to the last, touched gold at the edge of his mind, bringing the same warm smile to the pirate's lips.

"It looks like you might be one of us!"

[greaterstolenlandspolycule]

Now that I've finally cleaned the dust of out of my PC, I can start doing my "canon" Kingmaker run.

Meet Ainsel, the Definitely Human (mechanically musetouched aasimar, but lorewise babyswapped fey) future ruler of the Stolen Lands. They became a traveling mercenary after leaving their hometown in the River Kingdoms (under less-than-ideal circumstances) due to their magical prowess and desire to avoid putting down any sort of roots, which somehow resulted in them getting the opportunity to establish a Barony.

For my personal fun and as a resource for potential future fic-writing, I'm making a "journal" of sorts here of the most notable things that happen in each in-game day.

Day 0 and 1: 13 and 14 Gozran 4710

Since they are from the River Kingdoms, Ainsel doesn't really see much difference between a bandit lord and any other type of lord. In fact, they're slightly insulted by Aldori's claim that she can't negotiate "with bandit gangs and monster hordes," because they feel it's a very reminiscent of the way outsiders view the non-Stolen Lands River Kingdoms. Also, they're defined as a monster by a lot of definitions! Fortunately, they are an expert at Not Giving A Shit. They also do not trust that people's stated intentions are their actual intentions, but they're used to it to the point that, if the stakes weren't quite so high, they probably would not comment on it at all to Aldori.

Not much to comment on here other than that Linzi is a lesbian :). And that Ainsel, despite not being an Amazing person, genuinely wants to prevent death when possible, since they have a fairly freedom-based worldview and, in their mind, death can be the antithesis of freedom, because the dead person will never be able to make choices again (at least, not in Golarion).

Ainsel is making an :3 face internally for this bit. Get dunked on Tartuccio!

Ainsel, internally: Cool cool cool I don't have any issues with being distrusted and viewed as a potential pretender. Everything is fine.

Edit: I changed Ainsel’s name to Liesel

[benjaminvox]

FOR: @romanbaranovsky EVENT: The Camp Out, 24' WHERE: Their Rich Tent.

It was the kind of awkward where he didn't know what step to take first. While he'd spent the last few weeks learning all he could, more so than before, about the Russians -- he was still left wondering if the decisions Melissa were making were the right moves, or the wrong ones. This tent was far beyond his wildest dreams, especially considering the tent that both Melissa and he had scored respectively.

His smirk was snaking, as he turned in the too-big space (of which he was thankful for) and shrugged. "You don't talk much, fine. Do you smoke, though?" the allusion to something different from a cigarette.

[hyp3rfixation-h3ll]

i am sso ssorry 2 every ssingle mutual we have on ssimplural who hass to ssee firsst hand the abssolute sstate of our brain and just how many fucking people are out here rn - unussed 🍜