[chromesthesiia]

♪ —• Cont’d || @wholeads

Moments of enthusiasm are rare in nightmarish hellscape, & when they’re found, they’re worth cherishing.  The charm of the leader outside of a trial, the excitement for things obscure - & to the millennial, historical - was certainly worth breaking a smile over.  A real smile, one more genuinely cheerful than normal.

Odd compliments were not foreign to Harley’s manner of speaking ; in fact, he had a mental catalog of strange compliments as well as incredibly random insults.  Responses of confusion were what he thrived on.

At least the statement was received as intended - positively.

“ Well.  I like plums, & I like it when you get into something exciting. ”

There’s more depth than let on.  Dwight’s tone, his entire melody outside of these tests of survival, was rich & royal.  Historical, valuable.  It held strength, yet, composure.  Plum violet bled from each word he spoke.  That was the best way to describe the leader’s deep, sturdy, out-of-trial energy.

His vocal hue is very comforting.

“ People don’t usually get very deep into normal conversation out here. ” 

[vhsmeme]

* apocalypse prompts

‘ wanna trade? ’

‘ nothing scares me anymore. ’

‘ i’ll gut you like a fish. ’

‘ we got a code around here. protect each other. ’

‘ aim for the head. ’

‘ i will crack your face in two, do you hear me? now shut up and get back to work. ’

‘ got a death wish? ’ 

‘ i lost someone, too. ’

‘ we need your help. ’

‘ but you’re just a kid. ’

‘ we need supplies. you coming? ’

‘ you took them away from me. my family. people i loved. ’

‘ sometimes, you have to do bad things to survive. ’

‘ i don’t sleep. ’

‘ have mercy! ’

‘ look, it was either him or me.’

‘ they turned. ’

‘ surrender and i might reconsider. ’

‘ get the fuck away from me. ’

‘ are we going to be okay? ’

‘ yeah, i’m a good shot. ’

‘ what do you want? ’

‘ why, that’s a gun pressed to the back of your head. rise and shine, sleeping beauty. ’

‘ you know how to use a gun? ’

‘ i told you to hide. this isn’t a game. people are going to die. ’

‘ we’ll bring them back home, somehow. ’

‘ they’re coming this way. ’

‘ hands up! ’

‘ what was it like? before the world changed? ’

‘ it’s a trap! ’

‘ they’re gone. ’

‘ i can’t walk. ’

‘ easy, easy. it’s only me. ’

‘ we need to keep moving. stay ahead of those things. ’

‘ get some rest. i’ll take the next watch. ’

‘ those things tore your friend apart. remember that. ’

[chromesthesiia]

♪ —• ooc;

kicks out newly polished leggy

new look & google doc

[chromesthesiia]

♪ —• ooc;

I took the personality test for the first time and I’m an INFP-T Mediator.  No one’s surprised.

[chromesthesiia]

♪ —• PSA || dead by daylight

Harley Marshall, your average reporter with a need to push his nose into everyone’s business, started to put together a string of disappearances as far back as his school days.  Every time news of a new one would surface, anywhere, no matter how brief, he’d collect what information he could.  This became easier once he graduated to legitimate reporter.

These disappearances weren’t normal, they all followed a similar theme; missing, no traces, most of the times surrounding wooded areas, no signs of suicide and never solved.  Even worse, they occasionally seemed to coincide with disappearances of dangerous individuals.

Investigations led the man all over, from Canada to Iowa to Pennsylvania.  These were the unsolved stories that stuck with him for a decade.

One day, reporter had been driving to see his sister, who lived in a quieter, more mountainous area of California than he, the city-dweller.  Phone to ear and rain on windshield, he was on another of his long talks about the various cases, and a tidbit of new information he might have a lead on.

Car drove too close to the mountain forest - or the forest reached too close to his car - and a sudden crash ended in darkness and phone line going dead.  When he woke, the forest looked different.  Darker.  It left an ominous hum, a whisper in his ears, in his head.

Stepping out of the car and adjusting his thankfully undamaged glasses, he walked, in the direction he thought the street might be.  Soon he was lost, and even relocating the car would be impossible.  A lot of meandering later, and Harley found a campfire.  He drew closer, and what he saw shocked him.

They were here.  Familiar faces stared at him - not from past meeting, but from pictures, from files, from family questioning.

The missing cases were here - which meant that as of that moment, he was missing too.

[chromesthesiia]

Kiss the gambler maybe?

♪ —• Kisses || @smugliar

Gate opens painfully slow, as always.  Trial has gone well, and the Huntress is nowhere to be seen.  Likely she thought patrol on the other gate was a priority - the other two must be there, for here it’s only he and Ace awaiting the third light and irritatingly loud noise indicating the open doors. 

At last they slide open, and entertainment streak flares.  The gambler has that effect on him, and he takes a bow, dramatically taking a hand and raising it for a gentleman’s kiss to the back.  

“Enchanté monsieur,”  it’s clear he only playfully speaks French; he wouldn’t know a real sentence in the language if it hit him in the face. “your stairway to heaven awaits.”  Flourished gesture to the open stone pathway accompanies his ridiculous smile, a result of a well-run trial, as well as present company.

[chromesthesiia]

♪ —• PSA;

Harley’s sister is named Hailey.  Because their parents thought it was cute.  

Hailey is shorter, danitier, and has more of a baby face but is actually a year older.  Insomniac, empath, always tired, and has a third eye that activates when she’s asleep or mostly asleep.  Not supernatural or magical, just unique.

[chromesthesiia]

♪ —• PSA;

Harley, while humorous, is not very typically suave.  His humor covers up a lot of insecurity involving being genuinely romantic, so it’s comfortable to him when someone finds this charming.  His method of flirting isn’t unlike blindly firing a shotgun and hoping something will land.  Be bold, be amusing, get a laugh or a smile from people, and eventually, Something will work in his favor.

[chromesthesiia]

she's gonna need a smooch and fast

♪ —• Kisses [and fast!] || @buckandwild

Waiting by flame and false sense of security can be as stressful as venture into the realm of torment, particularly seeing someone who holds such a special position in one’s heart thrown into the fog.  Pacing, steps soft but rhythmic, borderline annoying - so would say the others, had they the heart to speak up - echoed until new noise caught ears and attentions.

Two rise from the earth, in the manner of those who had died and resurrected.  Still, pacing continues.  A few moments later, a second wave of new noises causes a head to turn.

Here she comes, looking only a little worse for wear, sidling up as if she’d opened the gate with a hand tied behind her back.  Smile graces the man’s face as he hurries up to her, lifting the songbird in an embrace high enough to steal a relieved kiss.  A moment and she’s set down again, eyes examining further for injury.

“You look great for someone who escaped certain death.”  Regardless of worry, relief, or other emotion, tone is remarkably playful, happy Kate can sit with them at the fire again - for now.  “Hope you didn’t bully the killer too hard.”

[chromesthesiia]

mettlehand

  smooch,,,,

i’m Screaming

hes so proud of himself rn & i hate it

[chromesthesiia]

smooch,,,,

♪ —• Kisses || @mettlehand

Cliché was an understatement for how it all goes down - attempt to dodge the aura-reading on the killer’s behalf ends in two gentlemen in much closer proximity than planned.  Having not paid attention to where the others took temporary refuge, the reporter’s hop into a closet had been quick; too quick.  

In a matter of seconds, his face is less than an inch from that of his recent companion’s. Cheeky flirting between two as chaotic as they is only natural, and by now familiar, but this does manage to dust faint pink upon smiling cheeks.  Fluster or not, opportunity for teasing is tempting.

“Well hey there, Ash.  Mind if I…”  Quick stolen kiss upon the lips.  “Help you get out of the closet?”

Pun is cemented as the reporter steps out, retreating before repercussions for such a terrible joke - or blunt action - can catch up to him.  Spontaneous mission accomplished.

[gliderofgold-deactivated2021020]

HEY! First 5 people in my inbox get a kiss!

[chromesthesiia]

♪ —• PSA;

that is all you may resume your regularly programmed scrolling

[chromesthesiia]

"Tch. Now will you look at that. Being nice pays off? Wake up, you fool, this isn't a fairy tale. People will devour you the moment they see your fear and weaknesses. People ... like me."

♪ —• Unnecessary, Joe, || @talonsaconite

Fear is not unfamiliar around this one - she’s intimidating, the color in her eyes screams of sharp murderous tones, as does her entire vibe.  Regardless, it’s more than tempting to simply toy with danger, as much as it is to retreat.  To retreat would be the end of this conversation, and not risk provoking the beast.

However, as she said, showing weakness is the fall here.

Toying it is. 

“Does someone need a hug?”

[softbunnies]

honestly being nice and positive and friendly……. pays off. that’s what life is all about

[chromesthesiia]

mettlehand‌:

                 toolbox  sits  beside  lone  figure      ―     an  array  of  tools  scattered  around  blood - stained  work  boots       (   his  or  another’s   ?       who’s  to  say   )       as  screwdriver  is  used  to  adjust  range  of  motion  in  forefinger   .       at  other’s  inquiry   ,     a  slight  smile  forms  before  utensil  is  dropped    ―     hand  removed  in  a  swift   ,     practiced  movement   .

                              ❝       does  this  answer  your  question   ?       ❞       brow  quirks  curiously   ,     waiting  for  other’s  response   .

Fifty percent of probability expected such a thing, so it’s less than surprise that meets chaotic response.  Instead, a smile and a soft laugh echo quietly as eyes flicker between hand and now-shorter arm.

“I guess it does.”    A moment longer of staring, fascinated - two questions come to mind, but the second is one for another time.  There’s a feeling the story behind it might dampen the playful interaction.  Harley settles for the first, his own hand very slightly lifting in curiosity, tone lighthearted and cheeky.

“So, can I hold your hand?”

[infected]

via weheartit