#thread: { open }

[elenasxgilbert]

@inaducursehqstarters location: french quarter

elena was not particularly excited about all this curse gossip, and she desperately needed to get out of her head and away from the ruminating, repeating, replaying thoughts that were taking over her mind. she had just stepped outside her and damon's beautiful french quarter home when she spotted a familiar face. "hey!" she said with a wave, walking down the stairs and onto the side walk. "i haven't seen you in forever!"

[13th-dragon-prince]

Piercing eyes stared through the foliage of the dense greenery that covered him. The bark beneath his claws was soft as paper as his talons tensed and relaxed in preparation. With such dark coloration the dragon’s petite body blended against that oaken wood and dappled shadows, the blueish leaves within the thickened trunk teasing against his senses as the wind ghosted over quiet nerves.

One wouldn’t be remiss to think the gecko was little more than a gnarled burl laying out along the branch as he did.

But this was no idle creature, no this was a predator, with silvered-blues darting across the broad walkway beneath him, searching, waiting, hunting for the prey to come ever closer.

His broad tail slithered around the limb as his prehensile toes digging into the groves far better than any single hand could do, the animistic talons keeping grip as he pushed himself up just enough to rest his chin atop the back of his palms.

Boredom was beginning to threaten him, it made his teeth clack with the need to cause problems.

Thankfully (At least to him), the answer to his dilemma soon came around the corner, his slitted pupils rounding in playful excitement at seeing the target nearing his perch; a shiver wiggling the tip of his tail as an unsounded rattle of the waiting snake, his tight grip loosening as his haunches wiggled too and fro before-

POUNCE

[jakehawk]

Open starter Setting: Redwood Square for Sol and Ginny's party

Admittedly, without the Mighty Hawks to hold his attention and keep him busy, Jake felt more than a little lost. For the night, the Hawks had been taken care of, freeing Jake up so he could have some fun at the community wide shindig for Sol and Ginny's trip out of Redwood. But now he was here at the party, without his kiddos, he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself.

This party was nothing like the parties he used to attend back before the virus. In one way, he missed those old parties since he understood how those parties worked and what the social protocol was for them. And if he did anything that might damage his image, his publicist could take care of that for him. He didn't have a publicist anymore and honestly, he had no idea what might happen to him if he upset everyone. It probably would impact the Mighty Hawks negatively and he couldn't let that happen.

Regardless, Jake wasn't going to have fun at this party by spending the entire time stuck in his head. As such, he picked a person who happened to be hanging about in the Square and walked up to them. "Hey! Why do you never see elephants hiding in trees? Because they’re so good at it." He resisted laughing at his joke but that didn't stop him looking incredibly smug about it.

[silvygonzalez]

Open starter! Setting: Redwood Square for Sol and Ginny's party

It definitely helped that there was alcohol at this thing; well, at least it did for Silvy. After she had completed a circuit of the Square, she went into the Community Centre and got herself her first drink. She didn't ask what it was because she assumed they were serving whatever alcohol they had left in store. It wasn't like they were going to have her favourite brand of tequila on hand.

She took her red solo cup (who knew red solo cups would survive this long into the zombie apocalypse?!) and went back out to the Square to where the bonfire was. She couldn't help but be drawn towards the flames, her old firefighter instincts rising up and urging her to ensure it was safe. It was, she could see that much.

She only realised she had been staring at the fire for far too long when she noticed someone was trying to talk to her. "Huh? I'm sorry, what?" She chuckled as she tore her eyes away from the fire to the person who was now stood next to her. "I didn't get a word of that, I'm sorry."

[duelist-of-red]

One Two Three.

One Two Three.

One Two-

A gore of straw and stuffing flew across the dirt as Alisaie’s sabre tore through the grainsack that served at the poor striking dummy’s stomach, her stern words for the object reflecting with a furrowed brow of aggravation as the young woman began to try to pull the sword free from the slumping figure.

“Gods really…?” Huffing an exhale through her nose she braced her heel against the post at the base of the scarecrow - grunting with effort as her defeated enemy seemed wholly disinclined to give up the weapon. “This is what I get for using a normal weapon for once-”

With another vicious tug she soon found the metal of this ornate sword wibbling and wobbling as it vibrated in protestation as her slender fingers let go as she leaned around the dummy - her expression falling in an instant as the view garnered the sight of the whole wick of the blade solidly stuck within the thick post straight through to the other side.

“You’re kidding…”

Swearing with the vocabulary of a Lominsan she kicked the ground of the stake with her boot as she once again, began to pull the stubborn tool.

[soft-hearted-scion]

It was so quiet in the Rising Stones today.

The Twins had gone off to each do some individual activity of relaxation, and most of the other scions doing the very same; the weight of the world temporally absent from their collective shoulders for a grace of peace.

Even if they had tasks in the morrow, some primal threat or distant apocalypse, Auheron was grateful for the moment of tranquility for each of them. You couldn’t continue saving the world with a hard pressed life after all, even warriors needed time to sharpen their blades.

The older Elezen was no different, though he had long put down his swords in liu of completing his nouliths to serve better to mend the hurts of his allies, he still held that eye for martial combat well within his bones. Perhaps that’s why Alisaie was so adamant for sparring with him despite the lacking reason.

He exhaled and placed his tea down to the table, the warmth on his lips earning a relaxed hum. No, she could do better than training with him. Perhaps Thancred would fare better. Or he’d lose. It’d do them both some good.

Though, as he stretched out his muscles, the thought continued; he wouldn’t admit to them he was still more than capable of strong arming his axe if needed. She’d never let him go.

Pulling his reading glasses from his pocket the Scion got himself comfortable in the quiet timbre of the ticking clock and gentle tempo, leaning back in the plush seat Tataru had ordered for this very reason, flipping open the novel he’d been reading to a fair portion through, his brows furrowing for a second before he turned a few pages back.

“What was happening again…?” He could never seem to keep pace with the book due to the amount of interruptions he’d have or the advice one of his younger charges would request, at least now - potentially - he could have a moment to himself.

The two leads had after all just confessed their love for one another.

[dragoons-fervor]

Dusk had come early within the later seasons, the chill of the setting sun clinging to each shadow, each leaf, and all the stones beneath them. Cloven hooves made to dig between these tangled roots pulled against stagnant moss to loosen the lichen away from clay soils; furred ears whipping forward and back with a hypervigilance taught through blood. Blackened eyes of the deer quick to blink - knowing deep down the predators that sought to fill their stomachs in preparation for the coming winter.

It was an older creature, the speckled browns of her faded tawny pelt peppered with the scars of a hard life, a lame leg that hovered above the roots without use - marks along the limb the telling signs of Garlean mechanizations.

Pointless traps to keep their clear cut domains free from the ‘pests’ that once lived there.

Estinien knew this animal wasn’t long for the natural world with such an injury, thus any hunter’s guilt was abated quickly as he kept low to the ground, his fingers wrapped around the handle of his lance with the perfection of a lifetime. No disturbince would be caused by any wayward flicks or idle branches.

He was a predator as any other, hunting for a necessary meal within foreign lands.

Mail and metals had been traded for leathers and cloth, the hood pulled to cover the stark white of his hair as he peered at the deer through the leaves - waiting for the opportunity to strike. Not for a worry of missing his lunge of course, the Elezen wanted nothing more than an instant of pain; a merciful second of fear for it, he would not hunt it to bleed or agonize further than had obviously been the lifetime for her.

His muscles coiled as his heel shifted his weight to his leading foot, the blade of his lance pointed and ready as if aiming down the sights of a barrel - but there would be no bullet, only the lethal jump of a dragoon.

[scholar-of-blue]

There were not many times in his recent memory that the day had been so peaceful. It felt as if the last few weeks - if not years - had been filled with nothing but a constant of movement or stress. Always something to worry about, always something to fix.

For the moment however, all was calm. There was nothing for him to do but sit in the silence of the gentle breeze, the warm sun, and enjoy the scenery before him. The only sound beyond the rustling of leaves was the soft rhythmic scratching of pencil to paper. The loose charcoal sketching the shadows of the noontime sun with a realistic ease that came with practice and an eye for detail.

Within the parchment were idle doodles (At least to the young man who drew them) of resting birds, or floral petals drifting in the waters that trickled along the rock faces. Nothing of import, yet in the same breath only those things that caught his attention. The beauty in a calm world.

Alphinaud inhaled and let the items in his hands rest atop his lap as he closed his eyes to tilt his head back and enjoy the few moments of tranquility. Of relaxation sorely earned.

There was nothing better than letting his ever swirling thoughts rest in the timbre of a nice afternoon.

[pom-pom-party]

“Help!” The door into the rising stones was opened in a flurry of movement; not a single knock or call of warning as the Miqo’te bust into the room full of vibrant motion and a panicked posture. His large ears swiveled to and fro in this state, eyes filled with tears as his paws brought him quickly inside.

Tracking mud and dirt all over the white carpets that laid over the marble of the rising stones, bean-prints left in a destructive wake in messy steps here and there as the cat-moogle struggled into the area with his arms full of…

Ducks.

Waterfowl. Birds. Feathers. One quacking loudly, with two more stuffed into his grip in a sad quiet that warranted the concern that peppered his young face. The pom of his tail wiggled this way and that as both Krile and Tataru stopped whatever conversation they were having to watch the destruction of the orderly clean of the abode.

Ji Ji’s own white and pink furs were sticky with what appeared to be tar or ink, but as he passed by the two Lalafellen women, their noses crinkled with the dense scent of oil and machinery.

“I found all these sky-songs and they’re all tainted by the ground waters!” His voice was genuine in his empathy to the animals; more than a few cuts and bruises on his skin to prove more than a little scuffle took place in order to rescue them from whatever situation they had been in only a short time prior. “Bubbles! Water! Help them!”

[fangirl-k8ee-ladyknight]

I need a fanfic where everyday after four am training, Jamie sends a “Roy-cast” to the team chat letting them know Roy’s general mood for the day and what he predicts practice is going to look like for the day.

When Roy takes over as gaffer, he stops the private training with Jamie to avoid accusations of favoritism. Within two weeks the team beg him to start back up again because:

1) him and Jamie are sniping at each other again and while it’s not loan season bad, it’s making everyone anxious and clearly the two of them need that time together to get it out of their system everyday, and more importantly,

2) they need the Roy-cast back because it’s fucking with everyone’s breakfast choices and now Will doesn’t know when to have extra towels ready or to make a larger batch of sport drink.

[vangs0]

Commission for @//sari.math

[lsunstreakerl]

aaaaand the 550 word follow up of Gianpiero's first nest.

Max has his back against the wall, watching as Gianpiero pulls another blanket out of the box. The delivery had surprised him- he wasn't sure what Gianpiero possibly could have ordered to need such a huge container, but apparently it's some kind of... nesting kit.

He's not entirely sure.

Gianpiero stares at the assorted soft things on the ground and the couch, hands on his hips.

"I don't suppose you have any idea how we're supposed to do this?"

Max does not. He's a little confused on why Gianpiero is nesting- he may have dropped out of school, but it's somewhat common knowledge that alphas can't build a nest.

Maybe Gianpiero has a condition or something. A medical need to nest.

Gianpiero blows out all his air, rolling his sleeves up.

"Alright then. It can't be that hard."

------

Max quietly pulls up another article forum about 'building a nest as an alpha'. He's been opening them in new tabs for Gianpiero, because it had taken all of twenty minutes for him to realize it is hard.

Gianpiero squints at the screen.

"What does that mean, 'additional ambience'? How am I supposed to do that?"

Max shrugs- it's not like he knows. He's never made a nest before, and even though he's always heard about how it's 'instinct', it's an instinct he doesn't seem to have.

Even looking at the living room, all he can think is that it's a bit of a travesty- there's no urge to fix it.

Gianpiero turns back to the living room.

"Okay, get it together GP. You've got walls, and the fluffy floor, and it 'looks round'- whatever that means."

He throws his hands up.

"But it doesn't look like a nest."

Max slides out of his chair, quietly padding over to Gianpiero's side. Not too close- but close enough to look at it from the same angle Gianpiero is looking from.

He hasn't seen a whole lot of nests, but it looks nest-adjacent. It's maybe missing a pillow here and there, if Max had to guess.

Gianpiero looks from Max to the nest, dejected.

"I think this might be the best I can do. I'm sorry, Max."

Gianpiero doesn't need to be sorry- that's stupid. Max doesn't need a nest at all, but if Gianpiero needs one...

He carefully grabs one of the pillows from the box, gingerly settling it in one of the sadder looking corners.

He steps back next to Gianpiero, who's looking softy at him, scent smoothing into something warm and proud.

"I think you fixed it, honestly. It looks much better now."

Max raises an eyebrow.

Gianpiero winces.

"Okay- it looks more like a nest than whatever I was doing."

All Max did was add a pillow.

They're both lingering at the edge of it, but Max pauses, confused. It's...

Culturally, he's pretty sure an alpha is supposed to ask an omega if they can come into the nest.

But this is technically Gianpiero's nest. As in, he built it. So does Max need to wait for Gianpiero to tell him it's okay?

He blinks at Gianpiero.

Gianpiero blinks at him.

"How about we both just use it, and we'll keep the etiquette breach between us?"

Max can get behind that plan.

[the-candle-slime]

*two red eyes peer at you from the dark in the woods, their teeth chatter slightly*

W-what are you..?

-@the-lost-hidden

*I yelp a bit and jump back*

I c-could ask the same to you...?

[johncon]

🎆bibbidy boop jumpin jive, you are now only five!🎆

There came a sparking BANG as the magic hit Constantine, bowling him over. A few minutes later, he blinked and sat up, his clothes puddling around his tiny frame. "Wha' happened?" the child mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Mum? Y'here?" Stepping out of the too-large pants but keeping the huge t-shirt on like a gown, John trotted to a dresser and opened the bottom-most drawer. Within was clothes Mum and Dad would never have let him wear... But they were brill! John grinned as he held the black skull tee in his size aloft. "Too cool," he whispered, and felt a sort of shiver in the air at his approval. A quick change later, and John was out the door and on the move, scampering down the halls and trying the door handles to see where he could go.

[the-janitor-esc]

(( tw: Fear Gas: Extreme fatigue, Emotional instability, Paranoia, Lack of motor control, Lack of reasoning skills, and Hallucinations. Fire.

I never let TJ escape a good angst opportunity, but their response to aerosols are always delayed, and I didn't want to disrupt the community moving on from the Fear Gas <3))

[ The Janitor lays in a barren room, trying to wait out the clumsiness curse. It'll only be a couple hours; it is annoying to lay still and idle, but it is better than breaking things (or someone).

It starts with the smell of smoke. Unfortunately, the smell of smoke is not uncommon in the Evil Science Center; someone's always burning something or setting something on fire.

The cyberspiders will handle whatever it is; they will continue to lay on the floor.

There is sparks in the corner of their vision, just under the door jam. The Janitor sits up as fingers of flame reach under the door, and they are promptly on their feet by the time the walls catch.

Their first attempt at leaping up into a vent fails; they pick themself up from the ground and make it on the second, banging through the vents far noisier than they normally would. They fall out of the vents into a hallway, thankfully not on fire.

Where are they? It looks familiar, but it is like a word on the tip of their non-existent tongue. The colors are wrong, but the smells and atmosphere are right. They start to walk, but it is a slog.

Then, voices, familiar and beloved voices humming, laughing, and screaming in the distance. The Janitor rushes in the direction of the scream. They can't let anyone know their beloved humans are here, wherever here is. ]

( If you're watching cameras or just loitering around the halls, you see The Janitor sprinting; they fall, but get back up and immediately start sprinting again, bumping against the walls. If you watch them, they smack at their uniform and bandages from time to time. You hear them calling "Wait!", "Where are you?", "Come back!", and "Fire! Get out!". )

[luca-street-chris-deacon-rp]

Open to Anyone

Muse- Dominique Luca

Relationship- Boyfriend/Girlfriend, Husband/Wife

Mun's Notes - This can go across any fandom, any ships, with any muse of your choice

Plot - Luca is home after work and just out of the shower before date night, whether it's a romantic quiet night or a wild night is entirely up to you 😉

Luca only really took long showers whenever his back was hurting and because he had been overdoing it at the gym to keep in shape, and in the field as a SWAT officer, he had done something to aggravate his back. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to be attending date night. Sometimes, it felt like they barely spent any time together, so date night's were always special.

"Hey, babe." He called over to the bed where his partner was lying on top of the bed. "Have you decided if we're going out or staying in? Cause I'm good with either. Just let me get some of that medicated cream and take some painkillers, and I'm good to go." He looked over their body, smiling to himself because he was the luckiest guy on earth.