wicaria
pass me some chalk.
AND TEACH YOU I DONT RECALL
✉♥IAN MISSED HIS FIRST KISSER
ABOUT
☪FAQ
LOVED HIM BEFORE GOD DID
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izzy-selman
Five foot something.
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[image]
“So that was cool. That little slip and switch back there.”
“You been doing that for a long time?”
He looks the kid over, a smile that won’t fade stuck on his face - an irresistible curse, if he ever had one ‘cause he can’t help but warm up to any of the lost boys.
The kid might have secrets he wants to cover up, a path he either spent running all his life but it’s the little things that tip him off. Ide notices, not to guess at what kind of neighborhood the kid grew up in -- because Ide doesn’t have anything to do with that.
The rugged look but softened around the edges says things that the boy won’t, not if his life depended on it - like he’s just recently been pampered and dressed in a set of clean clothes - all borrowed, ones he doesn’t really feel like owning.
And what’s worse?
The clothes on his back don’t smell like him, don’t smell like home, don’t give off any sense of comfort, they’re newly pressed but hang off his shoulders, making him look small -- and they most definitely don’t give off that feel they’re his.
Actually, he can’t call anything his city unless he takes it himself because, strangers are just that unkind.
He looks out of place. Like he doesn’t need your help, and sir if you blink while asking just wher he’s from - sooner or later, you’ll find that your pockets are far lighter than when you first stepped out on the street.
“Hey look.” He crouches down, in front of kid with the too-wide, exaggerated prying eyes. Turning cloudy with a hint of being talked down to by all he’s ever gonna see, an adult.
“That gent you just lifted isn’t going to notice what’s gone in his paybook, no one’s gotta tell you for you to know that.”
“You can keep it and everything,” He opens the boy’s palm and lets him clutch a small drawstring bag, already heavy with change. “Isn’t going to fix anything making you a face adults should think twice before trusting the moment you got here.”
“What you say, mm, we go get something warm in you and I learn your name? There’s this great soup kitchen that keeps on giving you refills if you call the server “Lady.”
“Then we’ll like, figure out where they say you should sleep tonight. Better not be a box. It’s happened before.”
@urchined
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I “far! out! -- you come from mother nature herself?”
[image]
“like i don’t know anybody who can ACTUALLY call themself her kin. that’s really cool, bub! don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“i mean -she’s everywhere, right?
so she’s always there with you, and if you miss her, you can just peer into the nearest flower and tell her! wicked.”
fascinating! and eye-opening. mystified with the idea, the young adult snaps his fingers like he had the wildest realization.
“don’t tell me you’ve never tried telling her how much you care?”
“you got this! you wanna tell her how she totally deserves being celebrated, right? well you gotta start small.”
#ic#fangiru#this was too cute to not reply#let's go tell mom how much she means to you#hiya 👋#wc:110
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featherier:
@wicaria & the castle
Spotted along the castle wall was a peculiar object——
a grappling hook.
Now, why a grappling hook would be placed at the edge of a window inside the castle, Diaval had only one guess. Intruders. It was with this thought that he took flight in raven form, wings flapping hard and steady as he approached the ground where one man stood. His hands wrapped around the rope, it seemed he was readied to climb the castle without a single clue as to Stefan’s wrathful actions. Not good.
❛ra-caw!❜ the bird cried to the other, tiny legs perched upon a nearby tree.
in all fairness, he should learned better than this. to think he learned from the best! to think a grapple hook and eight stories worth of rope extending would last him, when the edges were fraying just from trekking the castle’s stone cold he inches down on a chafing rope and -- for the briefest flicker of a moment, he thinks he might understand what a thief must feel.
getting up was one in without getting noticed by one stranger.
he’d never live to see another day ! not if his luck ran out today. say he were to reappear as a friendly visitation, he wouldn’t not be able to face his quote-unquote mastery “mentor” - what an embarrassing afterlife.
ide mulls over the possibilities while he counts the pieces of silverware on the table that seats at least ten on each side, chewing the inside of his cheek when he startles at the frightful call of the doom caller above him.
seriously! this was not! his! day. advancing just so he can wedge himself in the window opening, he sighs and wipes sweat from his brow -- peering up at his newly acquired friend.
“hey, ssh! i just got here.” he digs around in his pocket, opening up his palm with a wrapped morsel he hopes, won’t get his hand pecked through. his friend didn’t sound particularly vicious. just a lookout. “you want a bite before we try for the silver downstairs?”
ide offers, one last time, peering into the castle. “i’m kidding, i’m not a low grade. -- But there’s...” he slumps, arm extending the peace offering between the two. “There’s something that’s troubled inside that can’t sleep. kinda like you? kinda like me.” he nudges the bite on the ledge near his witness. “you fill your stomach first and think it over,”
He yawns pleasantly, going all out stretching. “Gotta let it free.”
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doorknobwielder:
“Remember to appreciate your mothers for giving birth to you and raising you to be a good kid. If they didn’t raise you to be a good kid, were negligent as hell, and genuinely awful people? Fuck ‘em. They don’t deserve your appreciation! But don’t be an ass if they did their best to raise ya!”
“Just chill man I know this city’s full of bad kids, and when I say bad I mean terrible.
But you can’t be telling me that there’s a single kid out there that you couldn’t place them in of their mother and say I love you, man.” Ide’s delivery is as real as his passion for the subject but he probably shouldn’t be quoting that to the dude in front of him.
“Wait no, that’s not right. It’d be more like. Man, mom, I love you so much like you don’t know.”
Ide looks up back at Wade Wilsonsus for guidance, anonymous bodybuilder whose mask makes him look a lot like a luchadores. “Hey, upgrade -- take on whatever, whoever you are.
How would you go about it? I have one day left on earth to tell my mama I love her.” He claps in on Wade’s cue, as loud and in his face like his autorifle voice.
“Bam! Improve hour.”
#ic#doorknobwielder#god created wade wilson#now he can get him out of this mess#sappy encounter with a buff that practices santeria
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tenebrisexordium:
Is that Maxwell, proud owner of the fine entertainment establishment the Theater of Shadows in Sector 003 that’s currently here?
“Say pal, do you pick up what I’m laying down? Do you dig what I’m burying?”
Why yes… why yes it is indeed.
What’s he got to show for himself, loitering around the shoddy establishment like that? He’s got a snide smirk on his face that could saw through marrow, cut clear through butter.
Ian short circuits when the man right away picks up the casual banter, face plastered with the dense but obvious message, ‘I don’t get it’.
“I’m a pal.” His face lights up, as if Maxwell had addressed him straight by name. “If you’re burying something that’s alive I’m. Going to walk away, but. I can probably help you if it requires digging something up.”
Holding his index finger up, he confides in the stale air of the theater’s lot - signaling on Max to Wait, - tuning into the frigid atmosphere of the site. There doesn’t seem to be dormant bloodlust waiting there, ...yet. Nothing Ian can hear.
He saunters over to where the man is, just barely scuffing on his polished shoes.
“Are you trying to haul this dingy place into a functional den?” He fixes his cloudy vision on Max’s slit, snakelike smile, dishonest from a mile away. “You’re going to need more than money to breathe life into that thing.” Ide suggests as if he’s in the know-how, kicking up dirt. “Starting with the right kind of page you ask people to sign.”
“You’re an entrepreneur. Never too late to start,” Ide peers up at him, the diss soaking through his transparent grin. “So. What do you see in it?”
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Beetlejuice sentence pack
“Now that’s a big fella, whoa!”
“Hey, where you going?” *grabs and kisses*
“Two weeks at home. The perfect vacation.”
“Hey! Look out for that–!”
“Handbook for the Recently Deceased… I don’t think we survived the crash.”
“Cabin Fever, Hun?”
“Well I can’t clean anything properly. The vacuum is out in the garage and we can’t leave the house.”
“Maybe this is Heaven.”
“Little gasoline, blow torch. No problem.”
“I could live here.”
“Careful, that’s my sculpture! And I don’t mean ‘my’ as in I bought it, I mean ‘my’ as in I made it - it’s mine.”
“Oh, look! An indoor outhouse.”
“Ugh. Deliver me from L.L. Bean.”
“I will go insane! And I will take you with me!”
“I have a feeling there’s something very interesting behind this door.”
“What’s the good of being a ghost if you can’t frighten people away?”
“I’ve planned out a stroke from the amount of MSG that’s in this food.”
“My whole life is a dark room.”
“What the hell are you doing out there?”
“Don’t worry, I locked the door.”
“I’m the afterlife’s leading bio-exorcist!”
“You didn’t actually think that was going to work, did you?”
“Can’t you see I’m relaxing in here?”
“Maybe you can relax in a haunted house, but I can’t.”
“Boy, oh boy, this place just keeps getting weirder and weirder.”
“Start simply. Do what you know. Use your talents. Practice!”
“Don’t even say his name! You don’t want his help.”
“I didn’t want to bring it up, but rather than have you stumble onto it and make another mistake, I’ll tell you.”
“Well how do we contact you if we need you again?”
“This is so corny. Is this what we’ve been reduced to?”
“The moaning is important. Really moan!”
“Cut it out! I’m a child, for gods sake!”
“I feel so stupid!”
“If you guys are gonna do that weird sexual stuff, do it in your own bedroom.”
“You’re not scared?”
“You know if I had seen a ghost at your age I would have been scared out of my wits!”
“I myself am strange and unusual.”
“Anyway you can’t scare her. She’s sleeping with Prince Valium tonight.”
“What if this is a dream? Can you guys do any tricks to prove I’m not dreaming?”
“What happened?”
“Hey, look at that.”
“I say we open it.”
“If I’ve over stepped my bounds, just tell me. Come on.”
“What are your qualifications?”
“I’ve seen the Exorcist about a hundred and sixty seven times, and it keeps getting funnier! Every! Single! Time I see it!”
“Don’t mind her. She’s still upset because somebody dropped a house on her sister.”
“I saw some ghosts.”
“We did it! Let’s watch them scatter! Any minute now they’re going to come running out that door screaming! …Any minute now.”
“You have got to take the upper hand in all situations. Or people, whether they’re dead or alive, will walk all over you.”
“Why are you doing this?! Leave me alone, all of you!”
“Never trust the living!”
“I’m the ghost with the most, babe.”
“You know, you look like somebody I could relate to.”
“I don’t know what your signal means.”
“It’s too late. We have to go through with this.”
“Wait, what am I worried about? You can’t even change a tire.”
“Stop it! No!”
“It’s too late. I’m sorry.”
“I want to get out. For good. In order to do that, hey! I got to get married!”
“Hey, these aren’t my rules. Come to think of it, I don’t have any rules.”
“It’s showtime!”
“Well, I’m back! I feel real good about myself, you know what I mean.”
“That! ..Is why I won’t do two shows a night anymore, babe.”
“Oh, jeez. I mean, I don’t know. It’s kind of a big decision.”
“You know I got it, Honey.”
“I’m telling you, Honey, she meant nothing to me! Nothing at all!”
“I told them no way. I said it was against my religion.”
“Okay! I believe you!”
“Sorry. Didn’t see you sitting there.”
“Shake! Shake! Shake, Senora!”
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It’s been a while.
There’s no grand announcement, no rustle in the crowd that tells him about the tell-tale return.
Of a friend, a comrade, a whisper on the wind, really. That’s not why he snuck in, no way, no-how, but he’s sure glad he did. Ide sighs relief when the ice reaches the bottom of his glass, marking the end to his breach of entry, pulling him out of his seat.
It’s just a hunch, but he’ll act on it -- since he’s done everything there is to do here tonight, but dance. He’s scoped selective areas barred off to check which ones can be pried and picked open, and he’s already spotted the deeper pockets of the crowd, too into their prize, too all over their girl.
It’s just no fun alone, to have nobody at the end of the night to divide loot with.
But when the life of the party returns, the whole atmosphere changes, as he pauses, smirking proudly to himself while palming at the top of the banister.
He wasn’t wrong about it this time.
He’s one of the sharpest dressed, you’d never take him as a lowkey felon. Girl dangling on his arm? Not really, when you have to be quick on your feet, but she seems to be enjoying his company greatly. He blends right in, and that’s what defines a great thief.
Ide secures his escape tools on the inside of his dress-jacket, shrugging his way into it.
It’s not entirely on either as he heels the polished floor, but it’ll do. Snatching two of the last drinks clean off a silver tray -- he wilts at the pair he narrowly beat to them with a smile, skimming over to where his friend stands.
“Mr. Ryder!”
The name seems foreign but at least it should jar his attention. He waves, or he would, if both arms weren’t high over his head, keeping the glasses out of reach. He smiles at Flynn first, because he means it.
“About time.” Trading Flynn for his empty drink, “The night’s still young, you’re lucky!” Ide smacks him on the arm lightly, delicately taking hers to refill theirs, “Beautiful date. Wow.”
“Is the night living up to what you wished it to be?” Both in one hand, he grins, whisking at hers with the empty glasses, “You should try the champagne. It’s still bubbling, so it’s good! --It gets people to laugh.”
“Doesn’t she look like she has a formidable one?”
Ide reaches clear behind him to acquire one of his own, “Her laugh, that is. We should toast, to ...long-going success, the sharply-dressed, and ...to hear her laugh, I bet it’s.”
He looks to Flynn, with a hopeless shrug that says ‘wanna take over? I’m no good with,’ right before he slings an arm around his comrade’s shoulder.
“How about you save us with a clever toast.”
@exploitatively
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Squints.
Is it just him or did HIve City get a little manlier?
And handsomer. Look out, ladies, if you don’t have a date already handsome has a new face.
@exploitatively
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Send Me A “👗” And My Muse Will Dress Yours
They’ll put together an outfit for yours based on their personal tastes using This.
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Send me "alt!" and I'll introduce you to a character I've RPed in the past, want to play in the future or are currently playing somewhere else!
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Send me ✔ and I will bold my preferences for your muse!
My muse(s):
Do I know your muse(s): yes | no | a little | tell me about your muse
Setting: our verse | my verse | your verse | modern | alternate universe | other
Pre-established relationships? yes | no | depends on the relationship
Possible relationships: friends | classmate | co-worker | roommate | family, real or adopted | dating or blind date | married | friends with benefits | unrequited love | lending a hand | teacher - student | rivals | allies | partner-in-crime | enemies | protecter - guarded | business partners | spy - infiltrated | manipulator - manipulated | star-crossed | first meeting | other
I’m in the mood for: fluff | angst | horror | romance | humor | crime | hurt / comfort | action | supernatural | slice of life | crack | dark threads | light threads | any genre | multi-para | shorter para | one-line | any length | plotted threads | unplotted threads | other
[reversed] Feel free to tell me to: message you ooc | message you ic | tell me your ideas | write a starter | answer one of your opens | send a meme | reblog this with your preferences - let’s find common interests!
A quick and easy plotting guide
#let me writer a starter for you!#all aboard the ...paranormal caboose?#BOLDING THE ONES THAT GENERALLY APPLY#Let's goooo ghost hunting!
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send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse ---
alternatively send ‘ + ‘ after the symbol for the roles to be reversed where possible !
✘ = hugging them .
Δ = playing with their hair .
❤ = kissing them .
₪ = asking them out for dinner .
☀ = giving them a gift of ___ ( asker’s choice ) .
♘ = stabbing them .
♕ = bowing down before them .
♒ = lying to them .
✿ = buying them flowers .
☾ = being found shirtless .
♢ = reading them a story .
☂ = giving them their jumper to keep warm .
✎ = speaking in a different language .
✏ = teaching them a different language .
▄ = telling them a joke .
♬ = singing to them .
☹ = insulting a loved one .
ஐ = slapping them .
✂ = threatening them .
❃ = dancing with them .
▤ = falling asleep on them .
☮ = waking them up after a nightmare .
♣ = discovering them crying .
回 = patching a wound .
✮ = stargazing .
▓ = caught stealing their belongings .
☽ = wandering alone at night .
♡ = complimenting them .
≡ = offering a place to stay overnight .
☢ = falling over .
✦ = being well-dressed .
❂ = wiping blood off their face .
◎ = taking care of them while ill .
☁ = being caught in the middle a storm with them .
⇕ = holding their hand .
↱ = being lost with them .
☠ = pushing them against a wall .
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send me a ✅ and ill write a six-word story for our muses
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There’s something about the way she closes her eyes. The primly-tied bow that rests too square on her head, her each step’s precision as she looks about the creaky building that connects through banks, tall arches, a spot away from the rest of the inhabited houses. Not too far from the rest, but he’s made sure to provide a few dimly lit lights and isolate them in the most welcoming corner of the house.
That’s how she knows she’s welcome.
If he had to describe it. It’s an explicit hoax, a harmless prank --hardly, an exploit to get to know her.
It’s what he’d done all day. Stash a few loose receipts he hasn’t cashed in into the hands of those that look like they need the extra payment - deliberate them not to ask questions, but just to point the young gal in the next direction tacked up to lead her in a misleading circle, to the safer outskirts where no one should hassle her.
It all started. when he passed the quiet book study where the tranquil melody would slip across the pavement of the streets, a nook he was sure there was no life of music, so it’d have to be a new installment. He’d browsed, tucked himself into shelves, scoped the whole place -- when all that walked out was that sound a squarely placed step in front of another step.
stanza :|| as she clacks out of the store. All the music disappears. The coziness, the forgiving cove turns something drab when that melody leaves and all happiness leaves with it.
Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? - When you come across a lost demoiselle, wandering around without a place, an adult, a someone special, a treasured item, to her name. Ian puts 6-timed beats to a 3-4 time signature, ♪
She’s here. Shes here, she’s here, she’s here. The distinct clack that comes to a stammering stop as she tries to knock, the hammering behind his ribs that decides whether his diminishing petals that drop, one by one would fabricate the glass case that wasn’t there at all.
@melodiousmemory But he did want to meet her. Just this once.
He’s lit and re-lit, them a stubborn seven, eight times so he knows what it takes, to make them flicker back on again.
♫ and takes a breath between before he dismisses the gust of wind that blows the doors wide open, -- compromising the wavering candle light. -- so he lets her heels clip, yanking her to a stop on the demanding ninth dot.
stanza :|| to intercept one of her hands. He reaches in his pocket to supply a thin set of silk gloves, trimmed with revealing lacy collar - hastily collecting both before she pulls away, and tugs the easy fabric all the way up to scooch it onto her wrist.
“Now, um.” He bends down to place a kiss on her wrist, “I know what it’s like meeting strangers.”
“And what it’s like accepting gifts.”
He tilts his head to the side in search of doubt, “But there’s something I’d like to ask you first. And manners are, you have to give gifts before a favor is asked.” He smiles and drops on one knee with some ceremony to the floor, “There’s a melody I wanted to hear again.”
“...Do you ...” He hesitates, “Like. the scent of new books? There’s something unearthly about them.” He smiles at her, expecting her to understand. The smile isn’t demanding, it’s not menacing, but it does have a tinge of expectation that makes his appeal look like desperation.
“I’m Ide, and you can ask anything of me you like.”
He reaches out to form a fist, turning his palm faceup, to present a quarter-sized jewelry compact. It’ll fit right in her hand.
The “host” asks bemusedly, “...who’re you?”
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