bliss lane
Today's Document
tannertan36
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
trying on a metaphor
wallacepolsom
Cosimo Galluzzi
noise dept.
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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Sade Olutola
titsay
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
hello vonnie
Show & Tell
JVL
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
if i look back, i am lost
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@starskipplng
S T A R S K I P P L N G - A dependent, multi-muse roleplay blog for BONEYARD FM . Run by Eli , 32 , he/him , est .
Please only interact if you are part of Boneyard FM .
Solomon Howahkan - ??? , Zahn McClarnon , The Tiger Shark . Levi Ozymandias Saffet - Vampire , Rami Malek , The Twin Blade . Aviel Gillinski - Human , Jeff Goldblum , The Work Horse . Cyrus Ripley - Human , Dacre Montgomery , The Spitfire . Arjun Toor - Human , Amar Chadha Patel , The Lapdog .
The Vampire Lestat | The Devil's Road
✨️ Twinkle twinkle little star, how the hell you draw an arm ✨️
armand + 👁️∧👁️
INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE (2022-) | S03E01
TED LASSO (2020)
1x02 | Biscuits
"Nothings free." He stated it as a fact because in his experience, it wasn't. Every little favor, every offer you accepted, was a tactical ploy for you to owe someone something. Dominic tried very hard to owe no one anything. He stockpiled his money, living in a little shirt apartment, eating frozen dinners, and drinking cheap whiskey. He grew up poor, grew up in a world where handouts didn't exist, only IOUs. He wouldn't be a beggar. Not now, not ever.
The comment earned the man a laugh. "That was polite, actually." Dom watched as he sat up, eyebrows low, observing. This guy was a bit odd, flamboyant, which he didn't mind. Perhaps it was the blind friendliness he offered. It made Dom a bit uneasy.
"I'd be careful where you get too comfortable." This wasn't Vitelli territory anymore. He wasn't quite sure yet if that made it more or less dangerous.
Avi suppresses a roll of his eyes. The CSI lead is well aware of the dangers that lie around Vegas - far more than many might be aware. But this facade of a laissez-faire attitude, of offering drinks and conversation with little regard... it's a well oiled machine. Something Aviel slips into, almost by proxy. No intimidation, no defensiveness.
But if someone happens to talk, and the investigator can connect a few things together... well.
"It wasn't, actually." He quips back, because he's pretty sure no one would consider it 'polite' in common manners and all that. "But I get what you mean. For you, it was polite, aye? You must be a big bruiser around here, with that kind of affectation." The guy looks like a bouncer, after all. Or security. Big hulking guy who doesn't take drinks from strangers... hm. "You scouting around for something?"
You're far better.' It feels like winning, a decisive victory in the little game that they're playing. Under the circumstances, the smile on his face is hardly surprising- broad enough that he curls a hand over his mouth in a bid to stifle it, thumb swiping over his lips in an absent echo of where Oz's had been mere moments before.
Oz's head tips back and Al finds himself struck by a thought. They really did have beautiful eyes; wide, dark deep and…The girl he buys from is clearly underselling her little garden. He sure as hell didn't feel like he'd smoked enough to be thinking anything that stupid. "…So you're saying you owe me?" Thankfully, his mouth could be counted on if his brain couldn't. An eyebrow raises, fingers slipping from the back of the chair to press into the librarian's shoulders as he leans in, words only just above a whisper. "I'll remember that."
It's little more than pretense, something else to poke and prod with, an excuse to spend more time in the other's company. After this many years was it even possible for the books to be unbalanced between them? Pulling away, he reaches to push the door closed, steps back so that Oz can maneuver around him- they were the one with the tickets, after all.
...
"Depends on what you want." The upside-down view isn't nearly as gorgeous as it is right-side-up, but Oz enjoys it anyways. Entertaining, at the very least.
But soon they're moving, and Oz hopes their cologne will mask most of the pot smell... or at least mix with it. Maybe just be a nice herbal scent instead. He pushes the wheelchair along towards the entrance, with a sidelong glance to make sure Al's coming along.
The tickets are tucked into their breast pocket and Oz sees the giant marquee up above the theatre... they turn their gaze back to Al again, dark eyes alight. "You ready? Because I'm so fucking ready. Get the door for me, handsome. It's my birthday and shit."
Sweat floats down his back. He can feel it running that his heated back. He had forgotten how good Cyrus looks. His mouth suddenly feels dry and it's hard to find his voice. He remembers just how secretly he likes Cyrus.
And how suddenly he realizes that he missed him. Of course he couldn't miss that after going no contact for such a long time.
"Oh yea, same. I mean I took sometime off from work cause," he shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head. "You know."
He can't remember why he actually stopped talking to Cyrus. He did, but he won't admit it. He just knew that he kind of glad he bumped into him like he did.
"Oh you look good too. I guess." He rolls his eyes back at Cyrus to tease him. He stumbles a little bit when pushed. Spencer's really glad the club is dark because he's sure that he started to blush a bit. "Wait!" Spencer cries out, trying to raise his voice over the music. "How am I the one to buy you a new drink when you finished yours, huh?" He was only teasing since he allowed himself to still be dragged towards the bar. He had the money to buy Cyrus a drink. There was half of him that wanted to walk away, but the stronger half that actually missed Cyrus let him be controlled.
....
The beat is thrumming from the floor and it has Cyrus still bouncing on the balls of his feet, even as he stands in place. His wolfish grin just keeps getting bigger as he drags Spencer towards the counter. "Because I need a new one, and you're gonna be a sweetheart and put it on your tab."
He's worked in bars, flirted around, and schmoozed enough to know how to get what he wants... usually. Spencer had been a hard one, though. Someone he'd definitely missed when the phone calls stopped and the meet-ups ended.
It's not like they'd been together together, after all...
"One long island iced tea." He tells the bartender, leaning into his arms against the countertop. The over-sized button down shirt is practically falling off one shoulder, a glistening face and chest from sweat peeking through. "You gonna dance with me, stranger?" Cyrus asks Spencer, giving him an elbow nudge before brushing fingers up to his collar to fix it.
Walking in with purpose, and without the expectation of being greeted as soon as she stepped through the doors, Hyorin paused for a moment. Unsure of how to respond before realizing it was only the librarian. An old friend, of sorts, though she planned to keep a good distance. “ It’s been- ” Hyo turned back towards the entrance, eyeing the very clouds that cooled the air after the heatwave earlier that day, “ -quite pleasant. ” She knew his question wasn’t about the climate, but distance was needed if she hoped to be detached.
“ You got a hot minute? ” she asked, pausing to assess him before continuing with a smirk, “ Hot yes, but got a minute? I need help looking for some books. ” Digging into her leather pants, Hyo pulled out a small piece of paper with the name of two books she searched for on some web called Yahoo! Directory. She didn’t know how accurate, or even real, the information on there was but it intrigued her enough to come search.
....
She's interesting, isn't she? Answers things in a way that doesn't fully answer it. Vague and open - impersonal, which Oz can honestly respect. And yet she surveys Oz, eyes them up and down, and compliments him. Hot, yes.
That gets a little smirk before Oz can help it. Apparently, flattery will get you everywhere. "I mean. Can't say no to that."
Oz pushes the wheelchair to folllow her. "Specific books, or more recommendations?" He asks.
PETRA LOVED THE THRILL OF THE HUNT. There was something about watching the fear form in a target's eyes that made her heart race. Perhaps it was the knowledge that, even if she got caught, a regular human wouldn't know the tricks needed to take down a vampire. She felt untouchable, and that led her to act more recklessly as time went on. Bodies not discarded properly, eyes not carefully sweeping the area before letting her teeth sink into flesh, all tactics that would surely get her killed in the end.
CYRUS RIPLEY was someone who had, unknowningly to Petra, witnessed her actions firsthand. He was someone who could easily become a thorn in her side depending on how their exchanges ended, but to Petra, he was nothing more than another meal and the night's entertainment.
"Do I look like a ghost to you?" She said, an amused smirk playing on her lips as she watched the man. "Sounds like I need to get a new spray tan." She took a few steps toward the stranger, but still kept enough distance between them. He was like a deer to her wolf--- any quick movement could be enough to scare him off. "Bold of you to assume I'd be following you. Why would I do that?"
It's weird, recognizing her when she's not dripping blood. He can remember the way it caught moonlight in the woods, that smell...
Death.
Mostly, he remembers his lungs hurting. That iron taste in his mouth from running for so long, so fast, until his knees were shaking and his body gave out.
"A bit." He states, blowing smoke out of his mouth and holding the cigarette between his fingers. "You're hoverin' around in a cemetery, I mean... ghostly enough."
So what is she? A cannibal, maybe? Some occult weirdo?
His eyes narrow. "I don't know... why would you do that?" She had to have seen him that night, right? Her head had been turned in his direction... but he'd been just far enough away. Maybe he'd lucked out? "...or do you come out here to think, too?"
with: @starskipplng ; arjun where: arjun's townhouse when: anytime in february
"Do you believe in... cryptids?" It had been on his mind for a month or two now, ever since that encounter with Andrea at the coffee shop. It had always been brushed off his shoulder growing up. In West Virginia, the thought of crossing paths with something unfamiliar, perhaps mystical, was so banal that you didn't bat an eye — and for as many times as he had stood in the town square of Point Pleasant and drank in the atmosphere of an eerie town with a perceived problem of a giant fucking moth. "Someone I know said they had somethin' break in to their house a while ago... I'd like to think it was a big raccoon, but... How did it get this far into the city?" Destruction of habitat, maybe? Even that didn't resound to him. Between that, and everything else on his mind — the latter half that he ultimately had to keep to himself, and his new partner — well... he was a little more than stumped, honestly. Everyone always said something strange was afoot in Las Vegas, and maybe they weren't wrong. Or he'd finally gone off the deep end of his studies. His socked feet thumped against the floor, restless. "Have you... ever seen anything you couldn't explain as a bodyguard? You must've gotten around before, you know, Ms. Weiss became a little more reclusive."
Arjun carries the rather large bag of Chinese food in one arm, bare-footed and for once not in his fancier clothes for work. He can be comfortable in some joggers and an old t-shirt, long thick hair tied up in a messy bun.
Hypotheticals are probably his favorite form of questions - Arjun could go back and forth for ages on guessing games and what-ifs, so he's already perking up. "Cryptids... I mean, they're unexplained creatures and things like that, right? I think there's probably plenty of weird critters we haven't seen... things not so easily explained by people and stuff."
He plops the bag down and begins to rip open the stapled-up top and take out each carton. "Seen lots of weird things. Never knew if they were real cryptids or anything- but, you know. One time I could've sworn I saw a shadow creature. Just this dark thing scoot across a doorway. Fucking scary, mate."
Sol was the loan shark of the cats but make no mind Walker knew that the man had a heart under his hard outside, so giving a half little grin and handing him the rag that was slung over his shoulder taking a step back. "This is me begging." He chuckled. He knew that out of the few members of the group he could trust her with it was Solomon, he was grateful for the help any how; he didn't want to have the scrap the bike that took him from his abusive dick of a father and might've led him to the love of his life if he could pull his head out of his own ass. "I know she's a fucking mess but if there is anything you do I would be so grateful." Walker was calm, cool and steady.
...
"I can try." Key word TRY. Because Sol is a jack of many trades, but it doesn't mean he can make magic happen - especially not with a broken down hog that looks ready to break into big, metallic pieces.
Still, he takes the rag and walks a bit closer to his new charge. "How long have you had this thing again?" Sol's been a motorcycle rider for as long as they'd been around, after all. Driving has always taken away the experience of freedom. Riding... well. He'd been a horse handler and stable owner for ages before, too. There''s a freedom'd been a freedom to that, too.
"You fuckin' owe me." He adds - a normal threat from the loan shark. "Especially if I need to find parts for this thing. I guarantee I will, too." He gives one of the handles a careful squeeze to listen to the stuttering motor that falters and doesn't get to that full revving purr that it should.
Jasper takes the offered hand without hesitation. It's warm and solid, calloused in a way that shows a life long lived, but also not the raw ruin he expects from most things that have lived too long. The rings catch the light when their palms meet and Sol gives a firm, ordinary shake, lets go like this is nothing more than two working men acknowledging each other.
Huh, he thinks. That's annoying.
"Depends on the collector," Jasper says easily, like he's heard that one before. He leans back just enough to look relaxed, ankles crossing, body language open and unthreatening. It's a practiced lie, muscle memory. "Some of the bastards in this city are real finicky. Gotta start huntin' em down." He gives a lazy grin, the words lighthearted, no deeper meaning, of course.
Sol's eyes don't give him much; it pisses him off a little. He's unreadable in a way Jasper's only ever seen a handful of times, and every one of those memories ends with blood somewhere it shouldn't be.
He gives a low whistle. "Nine?" Jasper repeats, brows raising to his hairline. He nods like he's doing mental math. "That's a lifetime in this city. Things burn quick." He flashes a grin, crooked and disarming, always underestimating how sharp he actually is. He laughs softly. "Duh. No one coming to a burlesque club comes here and broods in corners the way you do." Jasper raises a hand to signal for a beer, and then leans in a little. "So the options were either owner or creep about to light this place up cause he got his heart broken by a dancer, and you don't really strike me as the latter." He takes the bottle of beer placed in front of him with a thanks, man, and lifts it to Sol. "I'm Vincent, by the way."
Hunting them down? "And do you do well at that? Hunting?" There's many little tells in the way this peculiar man talks, and Sol catches them occasionally like breadcrumbs. It's akin to a crossword - a few letters, a word, spelling something out that he already knows but can't put his finger on. Not yet.
It's enough to keep him wary, but Sol almost always is, at his age.
The self-satisfied smirk on the other's face is enough to convince Sol not to smile back. He watches the leaning in, and hears the name. In a place like this, he wonders if it's real. If any of this conversation is real.
"Well, Vincent." He tilts his head back. Chin slightly up, where thin scars can be seen on surprisingly warm and russet skin. Near the throat, the nape. Sun has betrayed them, darkening around raised flesh so they stick out just slightly. So they can be seen in certain light, when he turns and shifts. "I'm... touched. That you don't see me as a creep."
He lifts his own drink. "You look pretty young for a debt collector." A smirk against the rim of his glass. This all coming from a loan shark.
"I DUNNO ABOUT YOU, but the fuckin' amount of soda with caffiene in it is ridiculous. I'd kill to be able to order to a simple coke, but you gotta take what you can get." Majority of her life had been spent diving straight into substances that supplied a momentary dopamine fix with little regard for what effect it had on her starting all the way back at fourteen, but that had all come to a halt with her first pregnancy eight years ago. And yet, the juxtaposition wasn't lost on her that now she considered little details such as the caffeine in a beverage, carefully, regardless of the fact that the queenpin possibly would have offered up a finger if it meant she could have a cigarette with the promise of it not affecting the precious package she was carrying. "Figured you were offering on buying me a soda," she teased, almost amused with the reaction garnered. "Sweat and all other human secretions."You see a guy with a badly done Tasmanian devil tattoo on his forearm lemme know 'cause I've got a bone to pink with him." Considering he was the reason she had earned her ban in the first place by a particularly brutal confrontation involving the knife she no longer carried, all in the name of her husband, she didn't think he'd show his face at this particular club again. Her eyes peered around the place, at his commentary, nodding. "Just wondering how the business was going." Or rather how many opposing forces would be showing up to try to steal the newly gained turf. Regardless of the location, the question earned a smile to her face, as any mention of the pregnancy did. "A girl." A hand brushed over her stomach, gaze dropping for a moment to it with a grin. "And I got a lot to complain about 'cause she won't let me sleep through a full night even now before she's born, but it's worth it."
He leans back into his arms slightly, surveying her curiously. Most of the folks he knows around Las Vegas don't really care about a cigarette or a cocktail, even with a bun in the oven. It's good to see a responsible mother of course - Avi's just curious if she's as squeaky clean in other areas of her life. He knows a lot of faces around here, after all. Hard not to as a CSI lead.
"It's worth it." Aviel agrees, a smile cracking across his face at the mention of a baby girl. "Ruth was a handful for her mum before she was born too... you or your husband a scorpio? Think that might be part of it." Avi laughs. "Or at least, that's what my ex-wife always said. The scorpio parental energy making Ruth kick like a donkey with flies on his tail."
The waitress comes back and Avi thanks her quietly before passing the 7-Up over and taking a sip of his martini. "I have one of each. Girl and boy. And then the grandkids too, of course."
