@beastcfburden replied to your post ““So if I get this right… the Shadow Milk’s got in…”:
I stayed out of it because it was a silly thing. We all know I’m the best~ And I’d a-much not want to fight over you. (aka era was needing lots of recovery eep)
Shadow Milk ( and Era ) gets headpats anyway!
@prestideception replied to your post ““So if I get this right… the Shadow Milk’s got in…”:
psssst. i won.
He’s very proud of you, hilal.
this town has the magical property of fucking up billy’s mood, hadn’t felt a good day come his way since fucking june of last year, someone should try and put him out of his fucking misery or anything else at this point. billy would take anything else. and there he is. almost sent on a special mission to seal the deal. put the goddamn trigger.
“you’re so funny, john.” billy smiles back, a little practiced, a little annoyed. bleeds right through “-they should hire you for that one. fit right in.” if billy really wanted, he could just keep walking back to his car. keep walking without a second thought to bender and his anticts. but he stays, waits for it. whatever is coming whatever bender is throwing his way. can’t make an already shitty thing worse.
and billy is a sadist. he looks for bruises to press down on them. for fun, for sport, to spend the time. to find a way to put john bender back on his place. “i’d love to stay around and do jack shit.” and billy picks a cigarette out of the pocket of his jacket. “-but i got somethin’ going on tonight.” it’s as if billy hargrove knows the exact combination of words to get a rise out of this guy, whatever happens next. whatever comes first, billy hargrove welcomes it. misery loves company or something to that effect.
@strongestking replied to your post “Stares at you dead in the eyes as he pops a pearl…”:
blinks at… husband what are you doing-
“Crunchy.” The pearl can be heard being bit on. “Did you know they taste a little like the ocean, but with nougat inside?” Merlin.
random text prompts | accepting | @lievester
bad decisions were a well-known topic in keira’s regard. time after time, she found herself making stupid mistakes or choosing certain choices that she knew fully well wouldn’t pan out nicely… but when raised like she was, tormented by both mother and sister alike, even bad attention felt good. it was like a nasty itch impossible to scratch, and yet key found herself reaching for it anyway. currently, she was making the horrible decision of some internet shopping and dating apps whilst she waited for the kettle to finish boiling ; she had spotted a few cute pairs of earrings to add to basket, though it was a shame that the girl she was chatting to had turned out to be a total bore. but abandoning her lively device temporarily to add the hot water to her midday coffee, her head whips back around as it chirps excitedly with a new message. adding the splash of milk could wait for a second. she needed to know who had texted her — and if sophia had been here, she would’ve seen the flash of surprise at seeing her name pop up on key’s screen. a brow lifts in intrigue, resting her hip against the countertop whilst she opened the message and hummed to herself as the mystery deepened.
[ REPLY TO : sophia ✨ ] don’t tell me, blondie… you’ve bought a new dress, and you’re considering buying another?
[ REPLY TO : sophia ✨ ] what sort of bad choices could you be bloody making at this time anyway?? it’s like… 2pm??
a quick glance to the clock timer on the oven solidified her assumption, watching that red flashing number two for a second longer than necessary. the wheels were already turning in key’s head ; she didn’t know sophia well enough yet to fully estimate how serious this cry for help might be — but keira knew one thing, at least. the scientist was far braver than she was when it came to asking for support. it felt only right to follow up on this request, to be the help that she herself so often wished she could’ve asked for. casting a longing look at her freshly made coffee waiting patiently for it’s milk, a sigh of frustration slips past her lips at the fact that she wouldn’t be drinking it… but her fingers were already back to typing.
[ REPLY TO : sophia ✨ ] where are you then? i can be there soon.
@sanguisprince cont. from here
daniel would probably look more offended at the mosh pit question if blood wasn’t actively dripping down his chin. he had more than enough experience in this scene and the sturdy, worn-out concert boots to prove it. countless nights spent in underground bars, barging into people and slipping on spilled beer.
“you need to read up on first aid, man.” he barks, the wet, metallic taste feeling warm on his mouth. “if i tilt it back, that’s a ticket to blood-gurgle town.”
there is a pause after that in which daniel presses the tissue to his face, and ponders.
“actually, that’s probably right up your alley.”
how come did he get an elbow in the face tonight, out of all nights? perhaps he stared at the scantily clad groupies for a tad too long and got distracted. or maybe one of them targeted him, annoyed that daniel somehow managed to charm his way through security for that first brief chat with the rockstar.
there was way less charm and more happy pills involved in the negotiations, but the groupies don’t have to know that.
“you hit me and drank the blood. great headline.” he winces, the tissue slowly soaking through. “the vampire lestat treated me like a community faucet. — can you even drink nosebleeds or is that considered gross?”
lestat is a presence to behold, sure. still, if daniel feels intimidated, he is doing quite a decent job in hiding the fact.
@prestideception replied to your post “Hides in his blanket pile. Migraine day.”:
A little runty sheep in a green sweater trots over to the blanket pile and pokes at it with a hoof. Room for one more?
The blanket moved up so that the lamb could snuggle in beside him.
Just one of those days…
the second that june saw the streak of red, her gait carries her across the room to where natasha stands, and she lifts the other’s sleeve just barely to reveal the wound on her upper arm. confusion knits between her brows, june’s icy hues narrowing in on the way that it still looks raw and redden. “why didn’t you go to medical?” june hisses as she grabs a nearby clean towel, dabbing it into a nearby water glass. but her tone doesn’t hold any malice, only fierce protectiveness. she runs the cloth near natasha’s wound, to better assess the damage and swipe away whatever has since caked with the grime from the day. “when did this happen?”
[ text: jami. ] absolutely, what’s the lie
[ text: jami. ] do you need an alibi and/or an accomplice?
[ text: sav. ] are you mad because i solved the case
[ text: sav. ] or are you mad because i had to talk to people you might know
[ text: sav. ] i wanted to help.
[ text: daisy. ] damn i wondered where i left that.
[ text: daisy. ] guess that means i just have to come back.
@strongestking replied to your post “He made brownies.”:
he’s making eye contact with his enkidu-looking master while he takes a few-
Didn’t – even wait. For the brownies to cool. Okay.
( Servants scared him, sometimes. )
@balancebonded replied to your post ““….…” You pay for stamps?”:
Yeah that’s why you don’t have to pay to mail stuff, usually. The stamps prove you already paid, or something.
“…” He’s never paid for a stamp in his life, Heidi. What kind of fucked up world is this.
@idiotaggression replied to your post ““….…” You pay for stamps?”:
what are stamps
“Used for mailing packages… and things. I’m not obsessed with them, just confused why people are paying for stamps.”
open starter for anyone. location: the underland, near the locust fight club.
the neon signs of the undersland buzzed overhead, flickering pink and blue against the cracked brick buildings and rain-slick pavement. music spilled out of open bar doors, mixing with the smell of fried food and cigarette smoke, the whole street alive in that messy, electric way it always is. eric stood just beneath a broken streetlamp, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, watching the crowd like he was waiting for something bad to happen.
he spotted a familiar face across the street and felt something twist low in his chest, sharp and familiar. like they knew he wasn’t meant to be there. for a second, he thought about turning around, letting the night carry him somewhere else. instead, he pushed off the wall and crossed toward you, boots splashing through shallow puddles. “didn’t think you hung out down here…“
STELLA WAS THE NEW GUY AT FIREHOUSE FIFTY ONE. no, screw that. she was the new girl at firehouse fifty one. she had passed through a few misogynistic houses before she finally landed on her feet at this one. gabriela dawson casey was there. kelly severide was there. it felt different the moment she walked through the door, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders for the first time since she finished the firefighter academy. it was going to be different this time. it had to be different. she didn’t want to linger too much on the idea that fifty one already felt like home. she didn’t want to jinx it. if they didn’t accept her as one of their own, she didn’t know what she would do. she was so damn tired. and she just wanted to be a firefighter. she was a damn good one, and she would prove that a million times over if anyone ever gave her the chance.
she was talking to her new lieutenant— casey, aka mr. gabby. she had met him a few times but this was her first time working under his chain of command. she just had to make sure, you know, that there was no bias in her transfer. she knew kelly severide didn’t know she was coming, she didn’t even tell gabby. but matthew casey would know. he was her new lieutenant. and he assured her that he had no say in the transfer, that was all boden. she had yet to meet the chief but she wanted to make a good impression. no, she needed to make a good impression. the kiss on her cheek caught her off guard, but maybe it shouldn’t have. because it was the most severide thing ever. she excused herself from the conversation with casey and jogged after the other lieutenant. “after all this time, that’s all i get? really?” she challenged. “a kiss on the cheek?”
laying down in a patch of grass, far, far away from everyone else. billy’s tilting his head up. the blood rushing from his nose quickly going back. he hears jack more than he sees him and he’s rolling his eyes. “-shut up.” it sounds meaner than he intends to but he’s frustrated, billy doesn’t run from fights he starts, as a rule of thumb. the other guy landed a hit sending billy stumbling back and it was jack’s idea, jack’s plan to bail before the cops got there. which. isn’t a bad idea it just makes billy feel weak and stupid and the opposite of what picking a fight should make him feel.
“i don’t owe you shit.” he’s prickly, vulnerable in a way he hates. he tils his head down, less blood drips down his face. it’s going to bruise and it’s going to hurt. “-how does it look?” he smiles, like he’s smiling for a camera. all not there. his head is killing him, and he’s had worse, way worse but this is the type of headache you feel from the inside of your brain all over the outside of it.
@fallaxbestia replied to your post “He’s return with more spicy jellies.”:
H I S S E S
“Don’t worry, I got you some normal tasting jellies, too.” Pure Vanilla offered them as truce to Shadow Milk.
@falsesaintess replied to your post “He’s return with more spicy jellies.”:
can she try a nibble
“Of course! They have a bit of a kick to them, so don’t eat it all at once.”
castiel mentioned something of a gift, omnious and vague about what it could be as his hands remained free of any object. ben steals a sideway glance towards where dean stood, the three of them in a triangle of looking between one another, curious and expectant. the angel announced a gift, and yet the strange pause almost made the braeden laugh out loud, until he hears her voice crack through the air.
it’s as real as the sound of wind, as his boots scuffing against the pristine flooring of the bunker when his body spun around to the source, and as real as his own rough timbre, though cracked slightly, “mom?”
instead of moving forward, his feet nearly wobbles backward, the strength threatening to leave his body at the sheer sight of her standing there. she looks as beautiful as he remembered her, as the photographs that lurk at the bottom of his duffle bags portray her, and he was worried that he would forget what her voice sounds like, but he’s wrong. his name coming from her sounds just as it always does in his head.
his gait doesn’t seem to stop from their path, each step is slowly taken backwards, spreading space between the both of them instead of closing it in an embrace. he’s unsure of how she must feel about him, if she remembers her undoing from a shapeshifter who wore a mask of ben’s face. she could still believe that it was him, and now the war table is stretched between he and his mother.
perhaps he has thought himself to be the one who is at fault of her death, that enough nightmares and thinking of that dreaded night has somehow convinced his brain that he is the one who held the knife. his earthly hues immediately darts to the source of the culprit, castiel, who looks confused at the younger braeden. “what is this about?”