#thread 001

[starsvein]

"Excuse me, where are the 'fruits?' ...Over here? Thank you."

Having gotten directions from the brown-haired civilian also browsing the shop, Veoc walked confidently to a display of colorful produce and picked up a bright yellow lemon from the pile. It was light—surprisingly so, and he wondered how the humans here ever imbibed enough food to keep themselves alive. But in the absence of infusions or nutrient solution, his best bet was to adapt.

He chooses a couple and goes to "check-out," coincidentally running into the same man at the registers. Nodding at him, Veoc finishes paying, takes out the lemon from his bag, and takes an experimental bite.

Crunch.

Bits of styrofoam cling to his chin, but the major general seems unbothered. If anything, he only looks a little disappointed at the lack of flavor as he heads for the exit while still chewing thoughtfully.

Nobody told him that this was an art supplies store, not a grocery...

@kleinstar

[rorysanderson]

x. status -> closed for @jacklynchh x. location -> forest lake

Annie’s been near enough to Rory where he can still keep an eye on her, but far enough where he can’t really tell what she and Jack have been prattling about since he’d started working on the side table some bloke from Chicago had wanted especially made for his wife. Or — well, he supposes Annie’s the one that’s been doing most of the prattling, knowing her. He’s almost surprised Jack’s lasted this long with her; most people would have sent her back already with an excuse. Most people, Rory’s learned, don’t spend much time around six-year-olds if they don’t have to.

He grabs the rag he’s hung over his work bench and attempts to wipe most of the sweat off his face and arms. He’s still doing this as he makes his way over to where Jack and Annie sit together, and it’s only when he’s close enough to make out their faces perfectly that he realizes Jack is whittling, and Annie is watching him, enthralled.

His lips twitch into a crooked smile. “Oy,” he calls to Annie. His little girl turns up to look at him, blue eyes wide. “Time to wash up for dinner, go on.”

“Just five more minutes,” Annie pleads. “Mr. Jack’s almost finished.” Her voice is high and so American nowadays; he supposes that’s one more thing he’d risked her losing, moving them here. “Please, dad?”

“Say thank you to Jack and get on your way,” he tells her. “If you stay five more minutes, you’ll have no time left for dessert.”

Annie looks genuinely distressed by the choice — still, Rory knows her like the back of his hand, and when she stands from where she’s sitting, he knows the prospect of chocolate pudding’s gotten a hold of her. She turns to Jack and gives him a quick hug, as if she knows if he sees it coming or if she lingers for too long she’ll scare him off. “Thanks, Mr. Jack, see you tomorrow!”

She scurries back toward their house, leaving Rory and Jack alone in the blink of an eye.

Right. He thought she’d give him some leeway, maybe wait for him before she ran off, but that’s far too much to hope from a six-year-old, he supposes. He clears his throat, awkwardly wiping his hands over and over with the rag he brought along with him. “Uh, thanks for putting up with her,” he tells him, offering him a tight smile. “I know she’s a handful sometimes, but she — she really likes you. And your—” Rory gestures to Jack’s latest project. “Your whittling.”

[walkingdeadshep]

ᵀᴴᴱ ᴱᴺᴰ ᴬᴺᴰ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴮᴱᴳᴵᴺᴺᴵᴺᴳ

Life had never been easy for Shepley Jameson O'Connell. From an early age, one could have argued that he was bound for great failures. His mother had done her best with what little she had, but truth be told, the misfortunes of his upbringing had prepared him for a cold and empty world — a world where order failed to exist and wrongdoings weren't in short supply. His criminal history, forged by the hand of another or not didn't matter. Truth was, nothing mattered outside of the two people he'd searched for as if his life depended upon it... upon them. Most days, it did. For years, he'd replayed the final moments over and over in an attempt at finding out where he'd gone wrong. If he'd made a different choice, if he had listened to Liv — if if if. Against every suggestion made by others, Shepley had held on tightly to the idea of finding them. It was the only thing anchoring him to the broken world, the only true reason he hadn't given up. It was an unexpected group that had swiftly taken him in, their compound safe from the outside world. Dangers lurked within, but after weeks of settling in and being promised aid in search efforts, he'd made his spot permanent. Everything that followed was a means to a particular end — find Liv, find Anya. It was impossible to harbor any guilt with such blindness, despite the stomach turning tasks bestowed upon him at times. News of another settlement had spread like wildfire through the compound, some curious, some furious, and some uncaring. Negan, the self-proclaimed leader that instilled fear in those who questioned him, was among the curious. If the other settlement, Alexandria as it were named, was a threat, he needed to know for the safety of his people. It was the very reason that Shepley found himself face to face with the barbed wire bat carrying leader who wore a smirk as often as his leather jacket. The plan was simple, as was the story. Shepley would stumble within range of the settlement, obtain an invite within, learn from the settlement, and report back. If he failed, the implication was just as simple — failure meant becoming walker bait and becoming walker bait meant losing every chance to find them. ( CURRENT TIME ) "Your kindness is appreciated. Not many people offer that much anymore." For two days, he'd sat in a dimly lit cell. He'd been questioned gently by members of the settlement, each as worried as the one before them. A part of him wanted to spew the truth, but doing so was a far bigger risk than he cared to take. He'd barely gotten off the string of gratitude when the un-oiled hinges of a door sang with the arrival of someone else. The man slowly turned, a smile on his mouth as a sign of good faith, but said smile faded as everything grew quiet around him. Before him stood the very woman he'd been searching for. His heart dared to beat out of his chest, his gaze unwavering. It was the gentle tug at his flannel that anchored him to the moment. According to the woman, Liv would be the one to show him to his sleeping quarters. After all, she was responsible for recruiting and hunting, the latter being why she hadn't been the one to bring him in. "Thank you," he muttered, his dark hues only moving towards the door as it offered the same unpleasant noise upon the other stepping out. "Is she..." he breathed, unable to ask the full question as his gaze glossed over. If Liv was there, Anya was too. Unless... no.

[expirednostalgia]

STATUS: closed for @dannyhq

LOCATION: queens night market

In a pleasant twist of fate, Marcus didn't feel a dire need for some sort of distraction to pull him out of his apartment tonight. Still, it didn't stop him from going out and swinging by Danny's place first to drag his friend along with him. After all, one of the simple joys in life was spending time with his friends, and it certainly wouldn't hurt either of them to take a break to get out and enjoy something small. "I mean, look on the bright side, getting a bite to eat here means the chances of me starting a fire in my apartment have drastically lowered." His joke was accompanied by a cheerful laugh. "Sure, I'll probably also walk away with something I won't even know where to put in my place, but that's like half the appeal of this thing."

[littlfrcak]

𝕴 𝖈𝖆𝖓'𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖈𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝖒𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖆𝖗𝖊.

— task #03

— tw: menção: morte, fogo, agressão (leve) contra criança.

ʿ a tranquilidade no acampamento deveria ter sido sinal o suficiente de que as coisas iriam dar errado em breve. mas a falsa segurança lhe iludiu, se deixou ser envolto no silêncio da madrugada e relaxar, dormir. o sono já o tinha arrebatado profundamente quando, de repente, a paz foi interrompida por gritos estridentes que ecoaram pelo acampamento. em instantes, o alarme soou, um som agudo que anunciava a presença de um monstro. os gritos se transformaram em rugidos horríveis, cortando a noite, misturando-se com a voz de quíron e os sons dos semideuses se preparando para a batalha. sasha despertou, seu coração acelerado, a adrenalina correndo em suas veias. de novo não. sem fogo, sem água, por favor, rogou internamente para qualquer divindade que pudesse estar olhando por eles naquele momento. trêmulo e sem ter a certeza se deveria lutar contra o que estava sendo anunciado pelo alarme ou apenas se esconder nas sombras até aquele pesadelo passar, o semideus pegou rapidamente suas armas – a espada em uma mão e a kusarigama na outra – e saiu correndo do chalé. o caos se instalou tão rapidamente quanto era possível ali, com semideuses correndo em todas as direções, tentando se armar e se preparar para o ataque inevitável.

assim que sasha saiu, foi atingido por uma magia poderosa que o derrubou no chão. tentou resistir mas seu corpo foi forçado a ficar de joelhos. para qualquer espectador, seus olhos ficaram brancos, veias vermelhas apareceram em sua face enquanto o feitiço o dominava. sentiu-se sendo arrastado para um abismo escuro, onde o passado se mesclava com o presente de maneira terrível.

quando a visão se estabilizou, percebeu que estava no chão de uma floresta, o cheiro de fumaça impregnando o ar. seus ouvidos zumbiam e ele sentia dores por todo o corpo. à sua frente, uma cabana em chamas. sua antiga casa. o fogo ainda ardia, embora estivesse diminuindo aos poucos. estava de volta ao momento que perdeu a mãe? seu corpo tenso parecia pesado, menor. uma olhada para as mãos e podia ver que eram mãos infantis, era uma criança de novo. recebia uma segunda chance ou estava sendo torturado com a lembrança? não dava para ter certeza mas não havia realidade paralela em que ao ver a cabana em chamas, o pequeno sasha não entrasse para tentar salvar sua mãe.

a visão dentro da cabana era um pesadelo. a primeira coisa que viu foi sua mãe, caída no chão, imóvel. ao contrário do que realmente aconteceu, a mulher não agonizava presa embaixo de uma viga, ela já estava morta, mal dava para reconhecê-la; apenas parte do rosto era reconhecível e estava marcado em suas memórias como um carimbo. o coração de sasha apertou, mas o horror estava apenas começando. dessa vez nada explodiu, nada o expeliu para fora para acabar com seus tímpanos; mas o que acontecia era muito pior. bastou olhar ao redor para ver que havia mais corpos no chão. “não, isso não está certo! isso não aconteceu!” gritou alto, a voz soando crua com dor e desespero. as perninhas eram curtas, magricelas, sasha tinha que encolher suas asas mas estava com as costas tão doloridas que não dava para guardar, apenas as encolhia com sacrifício enquanto avançava pelo fogo. o primeiro que avistou foi nico, seu irmão; o corpo inerte e tão queimado como o da sua mãe lhe deixou tenso. nico não existia naquele passado, não deveria estar ali. junto a ele estavam kitty e sefa, suas irmãs; os três semideuses estavam caídos encolhidos contra a parede, presos por uma madeira que ainda se encontrava em chamas. o desespero crescia em seu peito, cada passo um tormento. os soluços da criança eram altos, navegava pelo fogo sem parecer ser queimado, embora a quentura sem dúvida fosse sentida.

no cômodo que parecia ser a cozinha. anastasia e bellami... cada uma delas caída em um canto. a criança não conseguia continuar, queria sair dali porque não havia nada o que pudesse fazer para salvá-los; mas como voltar se o caminho que percorreu tinha sido tomado já pelas chamas? havia uma janela mais a frente e era para lá que ia… até que tropeçasse em algo e caísse no chão com as mãos minúsculas em brasa quente. o grito de dor foi automático, ao tirar as mãos do chão sentiu o quão profunda era a queimadura. ao olhar para o lado confuso no que podia ter tropeçado… viu melis. os olhos abertos, as lágrimas caindo pela face machucada pelo fogo. “você está viva.” ele murmurou baixo, a voz infantil soando assustada e incrédula.

“por que você fez isso, sasha?” a garota perguntou… e então os soluços cessaram. ela estava morta também. o menino gritou, engatinhando até a semideusa ignorando as chamas, a brasa, as queimaduras que ganharia com aquilo. as mãos em carne viva foram colocadas na face alheia tentando fazê-la voltar a prestar atenção em si; aqueles olhos vazios, sem vida, não combinavam com a filha de hermes.

a dor e o desespero o sufocavam, não era apenas a fumaça e o fogo que o impediam de respirar. o som de seus próprios gritos era a única coisa que soava ali dentro junto com o barulho de madeira se despedaçando. cada pessoa, cada detalhe daquela visão era uma faca cravada em seu coração. e no fundo de tudo isso, o sentimento esmagador de impotência, a percepção de que não podia fazer nada para mudar o que havia acontecido; que de alguma forma parecia ser sua culpa. ao invés do fogo lhe consumir junto com a casa e com todas as pessoas que amava, as chamas… pararam. suas asas se esticaram enquanto os soluços escapavam livremente. quando abria os olhos, não havia mais corpos ao seu redor, não havia mais a cabana em chamas. porém ainda continuava uma criança sozinha, com as mãos no chão de terra enquanto chorava. o toque em sua cabeça veio de repente, um puxão no cabelo loiro e curto. o grito que soltou foi de susto ao ser arrastado para cima, colocado de pé forçadamente. “eu disse para você guardar essas asas nojentas. isso é tudo sua culpa!” a voz da mãe era rígida, irritada. o garoto ofegou, os olhos azuis assustados, o choro continuava mas de maneira silenciosa, confusa. a aparência da mãe não estava certa, metade da face queimada e tão escura que parecia quase carbonizada, a outra suja de terra, com poucos sinais da violência do fogo. “eu disse para você não falar com aqueles espíritos, para parar de ser esquisito. e o que você fez? me matou. a culpa foi sua, sua pequena aberração!” a força que a mulher segurava seu cabelo era o suficiente para arrancar alguns fios, seu grito agora era alto de dor. “você nos matou. você nunca passará de uma criança assustada que nunca consegue fazer algo certo.” o jeito como a mulher lhe jogou no chão foi abrupto mas tão familiar. tudo naquela cena era familiar demais.

ao atingir o chão, porém, sasha olhou rapidamente para cima; sua mãe vinha em sua direção com a mão erguida pronta para lhe atingir, mas antes que ela fizesse isso, ele gritou. e seu grito foi real, mas tão real que o puxou para fora daquela visão.

caiu para frente pois estava ajoelhado ainda na frente do chalé de hades. seu corpo tremia e os ouvidos zumbiam. não tinha colocado seu aparelho auditivo então sentia apenas as vibrações ao redor. não conseguia ouvir os próprios soluços e nem em seguida os próprios passos voltando para dentro do chalé.

apesar de reconhecer que não tinha passado de uma visão, sua mãe tinha razão em algo: sempre seria uma criança assustada no fim de tudo.

citados: @sefaygun ; @kittybt ; @ncstya ; @thxbellamour ; @melisezgin.

para: @silencehq

[ryanlockheart]

sigma chi was renowned for their parties; everyone on campus knew that... but their halloweekend parties were top notch. it was their biggest one yet, and sydney was determined to have the time of his life. his lime green tanktop clung tight to his skin, and somehow, he'd worked up the nerve to wear a skirt. of course, the icing on top was the fake blood on his hands and neck. all he needed to complete his look was a ghostface — and there had been one following him around all night. he would've been creeped out if he hadn't have been able to spot that well-defined torso anywhere. maddox was easily the hottest thing that had ever sauntered into those frathouse doors. sydney wouldn't admit it — at least not sober — but he wanted maddox bad. his nonchalant attitude and his complete apathy towards being in sigma chi, something about it really got him worked up. he finally had managed to get maddox off to a corner by himself, and he was going in for the kill. "so, mr. ghostface..." his voice trailed off, his fingers creeping up the boy's exposed shoulders. "are you gonna keep followin' me around all night, or is there a dark room you want to take me off to? i'll be your next victim," sydney said playfully, a smirk on his lips. "promise i'll make it worth your while."

[tormxntum]

Who: Abdullah & Cailean @succiducus

Where/when: Their bedchamber, the morning of the grand breakfast

The first rays of the golden morning sun poured through the open window. It was early, and the cloak of sleep still hovered over Fasil Ghebbi; even the songbirds were only beginning to rise from their slumber. Yet, Cailean was already up and dressed in their nicest kilt, one they only wore during events with the Fergusson clan to avoid the disapproving look from their oldest brother. Their kilt was in the color of their clan, which matched their eyes, and their sgian-dubh was safely hidden in their sock; they stood before a mirror, running their fingers through their auburn hair. The unruly locks were the only thing that seemed to be out of place, but no matter how many times they tried to tame them, it was to no avail. They glared at the mirror with the slightest frown, but their frown quickly transformed into a faint smile when they heard movement from the blankets on their bed. “Good morning, darling.”

[maximeloi]

𖹭 starter with @magicwithaxes

¸ VISITA SUPERVISIONADA 1: esclarecimentos na prisão.

⭒  ๋࣭ 𖹭  ๋࣭ ⭑ as horas de conversa com quiron foram duras, então era assim que petrus se sentia quando entrava na casa grande para ser interrogado? a diferença é que, com maxime, o carimbo da culpa estava explícito para que todos pudessem enxergar. a roda de hécate, a marca de hécate, aquela marca horrenda manchando sua pele era uma admissão silenciosa de culpa. não tinha lembranças de como aquilo foi parar ali, mas isso não era parâmetro de nada, considerando que suas memórias estavam bagunçadas desde o baile. desde aquele dia, tinha lapsos de memória de horas desaparecidas de sua mente. sabia que não dormia, não podia dormir, não estava distraído também, então... o que era isso? quando argos lhe guiou para o escritório de quíron pois receberia uma visita, a primeira visita, maxime temeu. quem iria lhe visitar depois de ter sido exposto que ele era o causador de tanta dor, de tanto sofrimento. uma morte aconteceu e ele carregava a marca da magia de quem fez isso. não conseguia nem sentar no sofá da sala, apenas andava de um lado para o outro. assim que a porta foi aberta, max não conteve um suspiro com o nome da semideusa. “ ━━━ natalia." murmurou baixo de maneira defensiva, colocava a mão para trás para esconder a marca. estava com vergonha.

[shivanixrao]

closed for @pcvrlys (hazal akman) location: waterworks mall

Ducking behind a rack of clothes, Shivani looked at Hazal with widened eyes and gestured in the direction of the entryway of the store. "Don't look at him yet. But um did he see me? Is he looking around in this direction?" She peeked out once more and then hid again before letting out a soft sigh before glancing at her friend once more. "It's a long story and if you distract him long enough for me to get out of here in peace--I will tell you everything and buy you whatever you want from the foodcourt."

[ourpretender]

— ❛ are you wearing my shirt? ❜ @tragedyrich

oliver swallows, smile faltering into something forced when their conversation takes a sharp, angled turn.

"am i?" he says, tone modelled to appear disaffected. "i might be. sorry -- i was really hungover. i think -- i must've gotten them mixed up. mine, and yours." they had been awfully drunk the evening prior, drained from a long, long, night of hard liquor, cheaply rolled blunts passed around in a circle. and oliver had collapsed, safely, onto the floor of felix's dorm, a cushion and one of his hoodies utilized as a blanket. he woke before the alarms went off, bleary-eyed, and mussed hair pointing in every possible direction. oliver lingered unmoving for awhile, willing his torturous hangover to prove itself sympathetic before drifting away. except it too, overstayed it's welcome, threatening him in waves of nausea, until oliver exhaled, roaming eyes falling to a crumpled shirt. the makeshift blanket smelled like felix -- as did every other piece draped across his chair, stuffed messily into half-opened drawers. but this particular shirt, a colour blocked polo, already sweated through, drew an unmistakable arousal in him. the musk was potent, the scent of felix drained and warm circling the collar, and oliver -- without any resistance -- stripped himself of his own striped tee, replacing it in the swap. he'd tucked his chin down, lifted the blue rim of felix's collar up over his nose, and inhaled. oliver shuddered in the sigh that followed, mind in a frenzy as he took sharp breaths, hardly wary of the ways in which he wanted to suffocate. he'd predictably, gone half-hard in the process, eyes shut and blissful -- and then felix's alarm rang -- blaring like a siren. oliver jerked his head up, folding one arm over his stomach in partial covering (if not for the shirt itself, then for the stiffness between his crossed legs), nerves shot when even amidst a throbbing headache, felix clocked the details from the distance. presently, he tries to offer him a wider smile, a joke, self-deprecating and light. "don't know how i fucked that up -- sleeves don't even fit me properly."

[starsvein]

For some reason, this person was staring a hole into the back of his skull. Veoc felt it even if he couldn't see him—the minute pause in breathing and footsteps gave him away.

He reluctantly set down the forkful of something called cake onto his plate, then smoothly stood up from the chic café chair to face the perpetrator. At the sight of pinkish-white hair and silvery-blue pupils, the major general narrowed his eyes and pulled out his BB gun.

"Halt."

@uwps001

[iansolko]

closed starter for @aopmari

The crew seemed to land on Kor'Sel'Koo without any problems and without the Galactic Union people doing a U-turn and coming back for them, and after the now-typical glowing had subsided, there wasn't much for the entertainer to do. Ian had just about the weirdest list of things to do on this planet from his crewmates: eat food and drink water, get married, and visit an amphibian pond. But all those things would have to wait until the ship got settled down.

Ian and Beverly’s dinner routine usually went off without a hitch.  Bev had a vague idea of what time the food time was, and where Ian would be to give her that food.  Tonight, though, as Ian had waited for his cat at the pods, he discovered that she was MIA, which either meant that 1. Someone had accidentally shut her in a room, or 2. She had found something or someone much more interesting than him and food.  Gwen, very sadly, wasn’t around anymore, and therefore he didn’t think it was the second thing. And so this process of having dinner was going to take longer; Ian opening doors he had access to in search of his cat.  He was turning a corner in the midst of belting out the lyrics to 9-5 by Dolly Parton while casually strumming on his guitar, when what he suddenly encountered gave him one of the biggest shocks of his life.

He luckily remembered to quickly send a mental message to Stella that he was fine, but he was still frozen where he stood, his singing immediately dying in his throat.  Beverly was sniffing at the hand of the new mate person, which might have been a surprise in and of itself…except that was vastly overshadowed by the fact that Ian very much knew their new person...all too well.  Ian’s eyes were definitely playing tricks on them, because there was no way she was here…and yet… “Um.  Hi?” They barely squeaked out.

[theodoranowak]

[ 📱 text ] Selina (T)

THEO: You're going to think I'm crazy, but I SWEAR I saw someone who looks just like you here in BH the other day THEO: Impossible, right? You would have told me if you were in BH @momentspassd

[clementinebriar]

[ IT'S A MATCH! 🔥 YOU AND PHOEBE HAVE LIKED EACH OTHER ]

CLEM: 👀 CLEM: stepping out on your man, princess?? CLEM: didn't think you had it in you @thephoebeyates

[rileyrp]

—muse : alonzo jenkins , event planner , pansexual / poly , 26 . —welcome to : closed starter for @demonicescort

alonzo's job often took him to new places and introduced him to new faces, but it also had a way of bringing him back to familiar spots and people who had caught his interest along the way. one of those people was walter. the bar Walter worked at was a great place in its own right, but knowing that walter would be there was a definite perk that alonzo wasn’t about to pass up.

he sauntered into the establishment like he owned the place, his confident stride and easy grin making heads turn. his brown eyes scanned the room, seeking out the man he was looking for. when he spotted walter behind the bar, his grin widened, and he made his way over with purpose. catching walter’s attention, alonzo smirked and raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the bar. "fancy making me a cocktail?" he asked, his tone playful through his obvious british accent, as he slid onto a barstool.

[jaceeverett]

WHO: Jace & @xespietamayo

WHERE: around New Orleans

WHEN: February, 2024

Jason was good with directions. If someone told him where he needed to go, he committed it to memory and he got there, regardless... but that didn't mean that he didn't lose his mind the second that he picked up the walking tour map and tried to get a good grasp on where he was supposed to go, what things he could see. There were so many streets in New Orleans, it almost seemed overwhelming. Having grown up in Merrock, spending his adult years in tiny, rural towns out west... this was new. But at least he wasn't alone, as he turned to see someone else with a map in hand, instantly relieved when he recognized her face. "Esperanza, right?" he asked, approaching her with a friendly smile. Josh's girlfriend, Theo's friend; he could vaguely remember her from before, and definitely from the past half a year he had spent in town. "Are you out exploring, too?"