#;thread start

[wcrldcnfire]

@betterhealing​: lyrics s.c.

❝ The law ain't never been a friend of mine. ❞

[spiderspeaks]

WATERLOGGED || RECKONING

Tick.  *Heels click against sogged marsh, the resounding rumbling of the ground has drawn to a cease and silence rests in the air. The world breathes with the soft click of insects dwelling in the area, Echo flowers just far enough out of reach to fade into silence and white noise. The world breathes. 

Tock.

*The hostess stands hidden nearest the river, eyes poised to scan the area so not to be caught off guard. Her friend’s words resonate in her ears. They will learn.. they’ll memorize you and you will die if you are not careful.  Tick *...She went into this fight knowing that. Soon the flowing streams fade into white noise. Soon the world is silent and the faint sound of her own breaths are louder than ever against the white noise of the area.  A predator waits in silence.. prey stalking ever closer with each tread. The air reeks of distrust.  ....?

Tock

*Miss Muffet thinks back to a time where there was nothing. No family, nothing to fight for. A routine and a hint of deja vu knocking at the back of her skull. She clutched her fists. What an idiot. 

Tick *Then she found them, all of them. Everything and everyone she’d missed. That ate at her. Because right after she came to find comfort, right after she was slowly being returned to normalcy..It was ripped from her hands. The spider seethed for a moment. 

Tock > ...No, Focus, deary. Blinded anger won’t win this battle.. It won’t bring anyone back. It won’t SAVE anyone. If I keep on my toes, there isn’t anything I can’t handle. T i c k *..She promised him, didn’t she? She promised Asriel he would get to live again. No matter how long it took her to restore those two years she spent by his side.  A Bitsy never goes back on her word. Not now, not ever. 

*Breath is held... Someone lingers in the dark. The world continues to breathe..

Time marches on. . . . @divinus-caedem

[daggersandsparks]

@pagnmin: cont from [here]

“And why’s that?” Pagan looks hurt. The way she stares up at him breaks him inside. Why couldn’t she love him? He was the best there was! Where else on Earth could she find someone that gave as great head as he did? “I’m not.. the worst person I know, Mairwen.” A hand comes to rest upon her shoulder, and he squeezes lightly, reassuringly. Maybe she is right, though. Maybe he isn’t the best. She deserves someone better and he knows it.

She can’t stand the look on his face, the pain. She closes her eyes, listening to him. His words cut her, taken a way she had never intended, and she doesn’t know what to say to them. That isn’t even it. But how can she explain it to him. Damaged. Unwanted. Worthless. Every time she thought she could try. Could open herself. They came rushing back to her mind. She reached up, fingers gently grazing along his arm, moving to rest on his cheek, opening her eyes back up to look at him.

❝No, Pagan, it’s not-- It’s more...❞  She tried to gather her thoughts. She couldn’t lie to him, but she didn’t even know the truth. ❝I don’t know if I can love at all.❞

[deathblizzard]

@tigretranquilo starter

The dreary weather of recent rain had seemed to see the event on its calendar and was courteous enough to be elsewhere on the day of the school’s culture festival. Today they had been blessed with the sun peeking in with the still occasional nipping of the chilly wind, making Rukia feel grateful for the long sleeves she wore, taking a moment to make sure that they were fully unfolded and at her wrist with a brush of her fingers. The visitors seemed to not be taking the cold as well, retreating indoors for the time being, making a lull in the shift that the two of them had running their class’s stall.

The lull was enough for Rukia’s class character and bubbly face to drop, not that she isn’t still fully enthused by being involved in such a bizarre and new human event. Instead she has the moment to ponder what it is exactly she’s involved herself with. She squats down, beneath the rectangular and boldly colored tank that contains the tiniest sort of fish she has ever seen in such a high number, the goldfish none the more aware of her watchful presence. Something about their large varieties of colors and patterns, from black to orange to spots and stripes is both intriguing to her but she reckons they can’t possibly be purposefully bred with such a large diversity.

Her head tilts at an angle as she remains unsettled on what skill this kind of game requires: speed or patience? For the moment, she is convinced it might be strategy as she considers if she could implement some fish catching tricks of her own from Inuzuri. Her hand comes to rest on her chin in thought. “Is there some kind of trick to this thing?” If she had a spear she reckons she could get one easily, considering how little care and places to run the morsel sized fish have to run.  At the very least she’s sure of one thing, and it’s that humans came up with weird sort of challenges. “I bet you could catch one in your hands more easily than these flimsy nets.” She waves said object about in the air, feeling the handle even waver from such simple motions. For something that seems so straightforward she has seen many fail quite often. 

Idly, she takes the handle part of the nets they are meant to hand out to participants and stabs the wrong end quickly at the water like a dart. The fishes beneath the water retreat at the disturbing ripples, but their response still seems particularly slow to her to which she could only regard with a thoughtful frown. Still on her mind, she regards that they definitely would not make for much of a meal, maybe the equivalent of a single piece of candy and that was still generous. Rukia can’t help but think that if could start to roast them upon a campfire they would probably disintegrate before cooking and it continues to make it all perplexing. “Are you supposed to prepare them or something after?”

[wcrldcnfire]

@psychotheory: lyric s.c.

❝ In this twilight, how dare you speak of grace. ❞

[daggersandsparks]

@thcroux​ [timothy]

“I was raised in a better household than you were, sweetheart. I have manners, unlike you.” Timothy nearly jabs his cigar in her face, plucked brows furrowing neatly at the middle of his forehead. “Now, don’t be rude and eat your dinner. I paid good money for that.” He looks away, legs now crossed as he surveys the room. No one he knew, thank God, other than the restaurant staff that he was accustomed to. He doesn’t mean to be such a prick. The Prednisone he’d been taking on the regular had started to worsen his mood swings. His irritability had started to cause trouble in the work place. “Sorry.” He mutters finally, glancing back to Mairwen and sighing. “You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to. I don’t care. I just wanna get outta here.”

She had to bite back her response when it came to what kind of household she’d been raised in. The truth was far too complicated. She didn’t want to destroy the illusion anyway. Instead, she fixed a hurt expression on her face. Only a faint one, staring at the plate of food. Frustration bubbled up as she poked at it. It looked delicious, it really did.

But she couldn’t have that much milk. Not if this “date” was to go anywhere besides an early end. She glanced up at his apology, slightly surprised by the sudden change. She hummed a little, taking the glass of wine and sipping on that instead as she considered what to say. ❝I do appreciate the thought, as it was rude of me to be late. I wish I could eat it.❞

She gave him a small smile though. Hoping to avoid his mood swinging to rude again. Setting down her fork, though, she let the smile spread into a grin instead. ❝Where would you like to go then?❞

[daggersandsparks]

@thcroux​ [duck]

“My mistake. Didn’t know that’d make you uncomfortable.” Duck whistles and goes back to digging the bullet out of her leg. “Kinda hard to realize who has morals and who doesn’t while working in underground Berlin.” The truth is, Duck found it hard to keep his filter on while he wasn’t around his best friend Bill, who was currently trying to get his papers in order to leave the country. The life of an AWOL ex-Army soldier was filled with danger that sharpened your senses. Duck learned how to live the life with ease, especially considering his protection under the mafia in which he sometimes worked for. “So.. by that accent, I’m assuming you’re not from around here?” He knew he wasn’t the only foreigner living under the guise of the criminal underworld. Both he and Bill were American, and their reasoning for leaving was unknown to everybody except themselves. Needless to say, she wasn’t the first foreigner he’d treated this week. Maxim, their boss, had employed many others just like him.

She hissed as he started up again, rolling her eyes at his comment. She fucking hated getting shot, rubbish is what it was. ❝It’s all a bit grey down here, isn’t it?❞

Everywhere else too, really. She didn’t understand why other people didn’t see it that way. But it was the way of things. She didn’t like the question either. Nosy thing, he was. ❝Not from much of anywhere at this rate. But probably closer than your yankee ass, however.❞ That bit was teasing, at least, instead of as snappish as earlier.

She was staring at the tattoo on his arm. Military look to it, but she wasn’t going to ask. She could guess. Wasn’t her business anyway. ❝How much uglier ya gonna leave me, by the way?❞

[daggersandsparks]

@sanctemony​: John Seed : The Brother

This was not a place she would consider safe. Not under most circumstances. Jacob had assured her otherwise. She didn’t yet even trust him, except-- her hand moved to her stomach, protective, without thought-- she did trust him about one thing. Their child.

That was why she had dragged him down off that mountain after all, hadn’t she? Because she was sure of one thing about him: he was loyal to family. Would protect them. Surely, it would extend to their child. Even when it came to John. [Did he had the same sort of protective loyalty as his brother? Did she need to worry?]

She’d only met him in passing before. A glance, a nod: smiling at the Baptist when they’d happened to be in the same place before things had gone to shit. Polite avoidance. Much the same as she’d been with all of the Seeds for the longest time.

And that was why she was anxious. Calling Jacob her lover would be stretching the meaning of the word. He had been cold. But she’d heard the whispers that John was worse.

And she knew what could hide behind a charming smile, after all.

Yet she had gone to -- officially -- meet him. As his brother’s baby-mama, rather than a sinner to be converted. At least she hoped as much. The wait, the need to evaluate what threat he might pose, the knowledge of what he did.

She didn’t like unknowns. And she fought every urge to run, even as it thrummed throughout her body.