Keni
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Xuebing Du
Peter Solarz
Love Begins
One Nice Bug Per Day
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tannertan36
Three Goblin Art
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TVSTRANGERTHINGS
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Show & Tell
KIROKAZE
macklin celebrini has autism
cherry valley forever
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@muddyreverie
─── ❝ 𝐈𝐓 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐄𝐗𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈-𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎.
𝟎𝟎𝟏. 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐌𝐀 𝐄𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐋 ─➛ intro. threads. fc. all. 𝟎𝟎𝟐. 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐃 ─➛ intro. threads. fc. all.
─── 🍄🟫 𝐌𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄. written for @fromhq. loved by 𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍. mun is 21+ and uses she/they pronouns ooc.
open starter where: the barn, at the bar
it's been, what, a week now, and shane still couldn't wrap her mind around anything that was going on here. jury was still out on if this was some new age rehab that she was kidnapped to, paid for by her parents. but now, after a week of everyone trying to make her understand, the town seems to have thrown a halloween party? what the fuck was that? just throw a party and act like nothing was weird about that. usually, shane would love an excuse to party but it's been a week without her pills and the last thing she wanted was to be around a bunch of cheerful people. she had volunteered to work the bar, mainly as an excuse to not have to be in the partying mood and stay close to the shitty ass alcohol that was offered. seeing someone approach, shane didn't even try to force a smile, "what can i get for you? we got moonshine and moonshine."
“Well, hey, MOONSHINE never hurt me none, I'll take some ‘a that." He flashes a smile and adjusts his ascot. “Make that two.” He pauses. “Not both for me.” Leaning on the bar, he points across the barn to Clementine in her MATCHING costume. He watches Shane pour the drinks in silence for a moment. “You’re new, yeah? I apologize it's taken me this long to make the introduction, but I'm the sheriff's DEPUTY ‘round here." He holds out his hand for her to shake. “Make it a point to introduce myself to everyone when they first arrive, but. It’s been a bit of a rough week. But the name's SLY; pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Who: Open Where: The Barn, Halloween Party
sweat had dripped off of him, but oren felt good. it was a feeling he didn't have much at all anymore. before getting caught in this place, his job was to perform and play for people. the opportunities to do such things didn't really present itself in the same capacity anymore. no more night time gigs most certainly. plus he had a job to do and even if he hated doing most jobs, he also wanted to do his part where he could within the community. so all of this? this was something perfect.
his guitar laid down as he sat down on a chair. dark hair pushed back, the black and white skull formation dripping a bit because of it. it was a water based concoction using ink, so it was certainly going to do that. they did with what they could. kept him in the spirt of things though. a shadow pulled his eyes away from his feet and up, "hey. found me on a break. you looking for a request? might be a bit cobbled, but i can give whatever you want a try if i know it."
“You're REALLY GOOD!” Lola calls over the chatter of the party, leaning in to be heard. Face is wide with a genuine smile; she's not usually so openly complimentary. “It's a good thing for us we have a MUSICIAN here, or this whole thing could've been such a flop!” Still bouncing along to music only she can hear now, she takes a LONG sip from her cup of punch, the alcohol content taking her on a face journey as she chugs. “Do you know anything by Sabrina Carpenter? I love her.” One last sip. “I wonder if I'll get to hear her new music ever.”
who: clementine & silas @muddyreverie where: the barn when: start of the party
clementine's hand rested on the crook of silas' arm, guiding the pair of them to the barn as if he might scuttle off if he wasn't tethered to her somehow. "would it kill you to smile a little?" she muttered, glancing sideways at him with half a smirk. her tone wasn't scolding despite her words, it was far more warm and teasing than anything else. "half the town's gonna think i dragged you down here by your ear." another glance at him, her smirk widening. "i will if i have to. i'm not goin' to this thing by myself."
“You did drag me here by my ear,” he mutters back as he tries to pull away from her vice grip somewhat. Just as intended, Clem's arm acts as a veritable BABY LEASH, holding he, the unruly toddler, tight within Mommy's cautious gaze. Ridiculous. With a frown, he examines their costumes one final time before the big public reveal. “At least it's not the WORST thing you've talked me into.” Which is an extremely generous categorization, ‘talking.' This is the one time of year she's too good for BLACKMAIL, apparently. Women. “My hair isn't gonna stay like this, is it?”
Addams Family Values (1993) dir. Barry Sonnenfeld
@muddyreverie : sly
where : graveyard
❝ ⸻ Hi silas ! ❞ a soft and alluring smile graced her lips as she saw the deputy digging graves for those who weren't fortunate enough to make it through the night . She had been at the diner and thought it would be welcomed to bring him something to drink for all he was doing .
seeing the bodies in pieces like that did nothing to her . while others were mourning , olivia didn't feel much over the dead . she was only close to a selected few and while she does help as she can around town and colony house , her home and place was in the forest . sure it was a loss , but the creatures comes for them all sooner or later ... if you aren't careful .
❝ You were looking thirsty so I brought you something to drink . would you like me to help ? are you almost done ? do you need help ? ❞ despite how delicate she looked , olivia didn't mind getting her hands dirty .
He plants the shovel in the dirt once more — Sly and Rosa had THOUGHT they'd been finished, then found a missing limb while having their celebratory beer, apparently premature — and looks for the voice. He sees her smile at him like that, and persona immediately SHIFTS, morphing like mercury at the opportunity to be charming. Weathered edges of bright eyes crinkle up in a smile, and his tongue darts out across his bottom lip before he sucks it into his mouth and lightly bites down. "Well, hey there, PRETTY LADY," he croons, voice smooth and thick as velvet. He dusts his hands off on already filthy jeans as he makes his way around the mounds of dirt and over to her. "That's very kind of you, thank you." He looks her up and down — so open it's practically VULGAR. "What is it you brought me, sweetheart?" All the ones who live outside of either of the ESTABLISHED ORDERS in this place are so — interesting. Stupid, maybe. But there's a fearlessness in living like that which is impossible to deny, no matter how you look at it. He likes to think he's a LONE WOLF, but — You can take the man out of the cult, but you can never take the cult mentality out of the man. Sly would never survive without a group to ENMESH himself in. He could never live like she does.
who: zepyhr & paloma @muddyreverie where: colony house when: daytime
"yo, yo, yo." zephyr announced himself, fingers drumming on the door to paloma's room as he opened it without a care in the world. even before coming to colony house zep had inhibited spaces with friends, all willing to share everything (including one another) and practically live on top of each other, so the fact that he even knocked at all was a miracle.
he had a smile on his face, a mischievous thing, as he took a few lazy steps into her room, poking at a few of the various things that littered the place as decoration. he knocked something off, then quickly caught it with a muttered oh shit and fumbled to replace it. "so... heard there was gonna be a party in the barn." his eyebrows shot up as he looked at her, biting his lip. "figured little miss college student was gonna have something to say about that." zep knew that people were still struggling with what had happened a few nights ago, but he was trying to keep spirits up.
"Jesus, knock much?" Lola rolls her eyes with a GROAN, stuffing the toy she was messing with under her mattress and immediately out of sight. As prickly as she can be — to everyone, he's not special in that regard — she does admittedly have a SOFT SPOT for Zephyr. He's always so much fun, and seems to be able to withstand when she gets sharp. A good combination. Pretty RARE. "Hey!" Brow furrowed, arm instinctively flies out to stop him from messing with her stuff — as much as she can from halfway across the room — but the anger just as quickly dissolves into a deep laugh she tries to HIDE. "Don't break anything, oh my God." 'Little miss college student.' "You know me SO WELL." She sits up straight as a board in bed, holding her ankles and swaying slightly, shoulders wiggling with excitement. "I'm on the PARTY PLANNING COMMITTEE, as it so happens," she gushes, laying it on as thick as she can. "How FUN, right? Finally, something tolerable about this place."
𝐖𝐇𝐎: paloma esquivel, open to all! 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍: preparing for the halloween party 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: colony house
“NOPE, that's mine now!” She runs away with her ill-gotten gains before the other party can protest anymore. Bare feet stride CONFIDENTLY down the upper hallway of colony house, searching for more victims. “Party planning committee!” Lola calls out, about ten decibels too loudly, peeking into a bedroom. “Party planning committee,” she repeats. Just in case they hadn't heard before. “I'm here collecting DECORATIONS. For the Halloween party.”
KAYA SCODELARIO as SUSIE GLASS THE GENTLEMEN (2024) 1.06 All Eventualities
the stench of death is cloying. sharp and coppery and hot. it's a scent that clings to him long after it's gone and, much to his distress, gaz has grown used to its presence. removing and burying bodies is only part of the job. it's the aftermath that pains him the most. because someone has to clean up the blood stains and return... lost body parts... to their owners. and it may as well be him. he's usually chipper on a morning like this, but the hot summer air is heavy with loss. ten people. ten more names to be scratched from the list. ten more faces for him to forget as other faces replace them. he can still see the empty terror in their eyes whenever he closes his own. a heavy burden, but one he bears with quiet determination. if not for the colony house, such deaths would be more frequent. heavy limbed and tired, gaz regards his clean up work from his position on the colony house front deck and squints. his reverie is broken when the shadow of someone leaving the house blocks his sun. soft eyed and kindly, he lets a smile deepen laugh lines and raises dark, thick eyebrows in greeting. "al'reet? out for some air?" he procures one of his homegrown, special joints from behind one of his ears and holds it aloft, invitingly. "y'want some?" company is always appreciated. especially on a day like this.
At first, she can barely make out who's talking — the ACCENT is more of a giveaway than the blurry silhouette — the sun is somehow absolutely blinding regardless of where you're standing. “Everyone is being WEIRD today,” she responds, annoyance clear in her voice as she holds up her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. Then her eyes land on the joint and she practically dives for it, sitting down on the stoop beside Gaz as she does. “Oh my God, PLEASE.” Sure, yeah. In the real world, this would absolutely be cause for alarm. CONCERN, even. But the entire basis of her residency in Colony House hinges on the idea that she trusts Gaz. And that he has no reason to be mad at her. Which is — surprisingly hard, actually. It's not him, it's HER. And they haven't had much occasion to interact other than the frequent reprimands, but he seems — generally alright, probably. I guess we're about to find out. “You're not allowed to make fun of me, though. If I look like an ASSHOLE. I normally just, like — drink, y'know?”
𝐖𝐇𝐎: silas stroud, closed to arden locke @mourneth 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍: open to interpretation! 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: the stables
The compound used to have HORSES. It's not that he's more of an animal person than a people person, because he's not. He's not even any good at taking care of them himself, and he wouldn't have the DESIRE to, either. But something about the stables feels like home. Because, of course, the old compound was the only place that ever TRULY felt like home. Horrifically, the inside of a prison cell was likely a close second. “There you are." He's got a blonde Belgian Draft eating out of the palm of his hand as Sly sees Arden approach out of the corner of his eye. “We've been LOOKING for you, haven't we?” He affectionately ruffles the mare's mane with his free hand. “You weren't around to tell us ‘no’ so we may or may not have gotten into the carrots." He makes the admission with a shake of the head, shrug of the shoulders, and a MELODRAMATIC grimace. Sure enough, three more carrots poke up out of his tattered shoulder bag. “My hand slipped, what can I say?”
open starter (4/5) location: out back of colony house but open to anyone
they weren't exactly sure why, but marama loved laundry duty. so many people come and go, talking about how much they hated doing laundry out in the real world (whatever that was) but it was almost soothing to her. the repetitive motion. washing away the dirt and grime from the fabric and seeing it come out clean. taking it down from the line, warm and soft from the sun. folding and sorting everything before the pack of colony house residents take their pick from the piles. usually no one bothered her and it left plenty of time to be alone with her thoughts. but this time, as they took down the dry clothes and replaced it with the wet, she saw someone out of the corner of her eye. "could you at least wait until its sorted and inside before you go diggin' through my stuff?"
This one is WEIRD. They've been here for basically their whole life, and — It shows. Weird ACCENT, weird hygiene standards, just — in general, very strange to someone as terminally normal as Paloma. She normally tries to avoid Marama, truth be told. But she sometimes FORGETS. Lola's eyes go WIDE and her heart skips a beat when she hears Marama speak — it catches her off guard, and, to be fair, she is acting like kind of a dick at the moment. Grip releases and the piece of clothing FLUTTERS back down to the basket below. “Who, ME?” Of course her. There's not a single other person in sight. “I was just, uh. I was just trying to HELP.” Eyes dart around frantically before landing on the basket of laundry itself, sitting at her feet. With jerky movements, she bends and picks it up. “I can — take this inside for you?” Don't be suspicious, don't be suspicious — —
𝐖𝐇𝐎: silas stroud, closed to jérémie desmarais @depuisfn 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍: two days after the last plot drop 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: jérémie's home
He's still not entirely sure when he started doing this, or WHY he keeps it up. It's hard to write it off as a ‘potential future opportunity,’ and lying to yourself is far worse than just plain doing something out of character or downright STUPID. Sun beats down on him as Sly raises a calloused hand to knock hard on the weathered door. There's ANOTHER ONE that lives here, one of the rich girls. All he can do is hope Jérémie is actually home and comes to the door first. Door cracks open — oh, thank fuck. Silas offers a TIGHT, weary smile and holds out a small rucksack without further prompting. “Careful. It's heavier than usual.” Jérémie collects artifacts from the deceased. A silly, sentimental thing to do. But — in a place like this, maybe it's not a BAD idea to have something representative of the fallen around, preserved and identifiable. So Silas comes around with some items after digging the graves. Couldn't hurt, at the very least. That could just be a LIE disguised as a comforting truth, though.
Diana lifted her hands in defense, fighting a smile that kept creeping up to her lips. She watched the other intently, as she moved, as she shoved clothes into the tote bag. "Yeah, yeah whatever you say miss 'not that deep'." she took off the leather jacket that felt a bit tight around her shoulders and tossed it the others way. "Didn't they already give you shit for stealing clothes?" Dee prompted herself up on the wooden table in the corner, feet dangling over the floor as she toyed with random items scattered to the side. "Why'd you pick Colony House anyway?" two of them had arrived around the same time, and although she had a strange attachment to the Colony House princess, Diana wondered if Lola's initial decision to stay at the commune was made under the impression the entire house would be hers. "Can I ask you something?" she did not wait for permission, before proceeding. "Back in the real world, what was your house like? Did you, y'know, live in a mansion? Have a pool?" she'd always found wealth to be fascinating, a goal to be striving for. "Butler?"
Lola shoots the other woman a DEATH GLARE over her shoulder, lips screwed up in a childish pout, and stuffs another handful of clothes into her bag. "I have a better hiding spot this time." She spits out the weak retort like it's the most clever, cutting comeback ever spoken. Another huff, and Paloma COLLAPSES down onto the dirty wooden floor with big eyes and a pathetic frown. She rolls her eyes, then grabs for her own cup sitting a foot or so away. "I didn't wanna be ALONE." She takes a deep sip and swallows hard. "Like. Ever, you know? If you get lonely in the middle of the night in town, where can you go? Nowhere." She DECISIVELY answers her own question with another roll of the eyes and another sip from her almost-empty cup of — something strong. "And it's, like." Lola looks down at her lap, picking at her nails. "It's SCARY. You know? It's harder to be scared when there's so many other people here." A quiet moment as this rare, vulnerable truth hangs in the air between them.
And then the moment is gone, and Lola is back to herself. "WHATEVER. I hate it here, though. Are you taking that dress?" She points to something beige and crocheted sitting at Diana's side. Lola returns to stuffing the mountain of clothes and scarves and bracelets into her overflowing bag. "God, I WISH we had a butler. That would've been so cool. We were never that rich. Mansion with a pool, though, yes. My parents actually remodeled the pool house into an apartment for me when I was, like. Sixteen or something."
𝐖𝐇𝐎: silas stroud, closed to rosa maldonando @citywclls 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍: immediately following the last plot drop 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: the graveyard
There's SO MANY BODIES today. Sun is high in the sky — Christ, it's even later than he thought it was, it's closer to sunset than noon — and he's absolutely drenched in sweat. Insisted on wearing a button-down. Gotta REPUTATION to maintain. At least it's work denim. Stinks like hell by this point, though. It's gotta. Dragging a MUDDY hand across sunburned brow, Sly looks up from the pit he's just finished digging, squinting into the light, shovel sticking out of the dirt at his side. “This the last of 'em, Rosie?” he calls out. His partner-in-crime — or, more aptly, partner-in-not-crime — try as she might to pretend otherwise, has that BAD BACK of hers, so Silas is alwas insistent on taking the brunt of the work when shit hits the fan like it seems to have last night. Christ. So many bodies. Had to happen, though. As it always does. “I don't know how much more I've got left in me,” he confesses. Hands find his hips and he bends as far backwards as his own sore back will allow, eyes squeezed shut tight. “I need a fuckin' BEER.”
