#duality.start

[caterinaismz]

“be real with me here...” cat trailed off, holding up her pear phone, the screen displaying a dangerous looking adult device. “...why do people make these?”

[calamitouslcves]

starter: open // @dualitynews muse: ransom drysdale + open 

Smoke billows from Ransom’s lips. It’s a dark evening, the street lights seemingly more dim due to the ever creeping frost of December. There’s a thump, thump, thump behind him that feels like it’s drilling into his skull. Far too many floors up there’s a party that rages on without him, though the headache doesn’t dissipate. The idea that he’s getting too old of this type of shit just serves to irritate him. It’s a requirement in this life to keep up appearances, if he wants that pretty penny then he’s got to be pretty until he’s old and gray. Ransom takes another long drag of his cigarette in irritation before he notices a figure in his peripheral vision. “I hope you’re not here to ask to bum a cigarette off me, ‘cause I’m not all that into sharing.” He tells the stranger, being a bit of a dick by blowing smoke directly at them.

[excorcismic]

▐▐ ░ * .  — MIHAEL KEEHL’S EYES - OR RATHER , MELLO’S - always have held a certain fire in them that alludes to a constant drive , never-ending passion - the infinite fuel of his inner machine that makes it so he will never lack enough to keep going . and even so now , when that fire’s dimmed with dark circles under the eyes and a strangely quiet air ( because in truth , mello’s sharp tongue never holds itself back , even if he isn’t the biggest chatterbox ) , it burns - more so though in the forms of embers than scorching flames . he’s not killed , but one can tell he’s tired , hoping that the biker sunglasses over darkened hues will cover up the evidence his sleep schedule’s been abnormal . of course , it always has , but he at least tries to take care of himself in snippets . but then he seems to BETRAY himself , biting on a freshly unwrapped chocolate bar and cracking his fingerless gloves knuckles , rolling up the sleeves of a leather jacket & quipping , ❝ i haven’t slept in thirty-six hours . i’m at that stage where i’m starting to taste colors & shit . ❞ he lifts the chocolate bar as he bites off a chunk , adding , ❝ this ?? pink vibes . ❞ a long pause , he takes a long sigh , lifting up the orange-tinted sunglasses and looking his company in the eye . ❝ how bad do i look - how easy is it to tell that i’m fucking exhausted . c’mon , be honest with me . ❞

[ofcursedmiinds]

                               𝑺𝑯𝑬 𝑫𝑶𝑬𝑺𝑵'𝑻 𝑲𝑵𝑶𝑾 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻'𝑺 𝑮𝑶𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑨𝑹𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑫 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑩𝑼𝑻 𝑺𝑯𝑬 𝑭𝑬𝑬𝑳𝑺 𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬 𝑺𝑯𝑬'𝑺 𝑳𝑶𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑫 ------ it’s like she doesn’t have any control of herself. she’s been unraveling lately, small doses liquor sips from her flask. she never wanted to be in this predicament, someone telling her what she should or not do. ❛ I AM FINE ! ❜ she snapped at the other ❛ i don’t get it why everyone thinks that something is wrong. ❜ she confesses with a sigh escaping her lips ❛ i don’t need you to walk around eggshells , i am not a child. ❜

[honeyveins]

                     aerith  gainsborough .    ↬     open  starter . setting  :  the  misting  corner  of  bud  naked ,  fingers  squeezing  lily  petals .

         *   — -    WITH  HER  FINGERS  CAREFULLY  brushing  the  gentle ,  sweet  flesh  of  the  budding  lilies  that  had  just  been  watered  ;  aerith  felt  a  smile  play  up  her  stained  ,  full  lips .  she  could  never  EXPLAIN  it ,  but  simply  being  around  the  masses  of  flowers  (  all  at  her  disposal  )  was  one  of  the  only  things  in  her  life  that  could  get  her  to  smile  without  trying .  listening  to  the  flowers  as  they  spoke  to  her ,  reminding  her  that  at  one  point  they  had  something  important  to  tell  her .  something  they  couldn’t  say  quite  yet .  only  a  question  of  what  they  said  to  follow  ;  aerith  answering  with  a  lie :  GOOD  WORK  TODAY ,  GUYS .

               — -     THE  SMALL ,  PIXIE - LIKE  twinkling  of  the  bells  made  aerith  spin  to  look  at  the  guest  who  inhaled  the  floral  scent  that  coated  the  shop .  with  chocolate  tresses  that  framed  her  face ,  a  full  smile  BROKE  the  conversation  with  her  lilies  ;  hands  clasped  as  she  hopped  toward  door .    ❛    so  !     ❜    aerith  grinned ,  stopping  her  customer  in  their  tracks ,     ❛    what’s  your  FAVORITE  flower  ?    ❜    

[those-women-in-red]

{open starter for Alessa}

“shit.”

Alessa felt a sudden dread hit her, the shadder brush in her hand having gathered enough paint at its tip to splash some across the ground as she stepped back. Her eyes flickered over the corners of the canvas, from left to right, scanning and searching for any imperfections, for that one mistake that would send a bottle of paint straight towards it. 

The painting had taken the majority of two weeks. Whenever the sun was out shinning on the streets of ALUCARD, you could find an apron clad brunette carrying about an easel and an array of jarred items. Small leaves along the Pennsylvania roads, the rust that gathered along a building that had stood more than just the test of time, she once swore she could catch the morning fog that passed through too, all for the sake of authenticity. 

Hell, Alessa was her own walking Harvard collection of color. She thrived off those perfect colors, ones people could identify with, that one shade of blue that could get one to say, “Hey, that reminds me of something...”

She realized, only now really, that in her sudden excitement to call her project done, that she had something was off. No matter how long she stood there, she couldn’t catch it; a block of buildings in town a florescent green, rather than a barnyard red.

Running a hand through her hair, she let out a sigh, splatters and mixtures of a corner store she had shaded earlier covering her arm and now cheek. She could hear steps behind her, and rather be her own critic, chose to get another eye on the case.

“Excuse me,” She pipped up, wiping her hand across her apron. “Do you think I could get a second opinion on this?” 

[winchestcr]

It was a beautiful day outside and after not being able to see much of anything besides death and violence the last three years, he was appreciative of every little thing he could get his hands on, including taking the dog for a walk. As a guy that tried his best to keep his emotions in check, there was no hiding the way he cared about his dog. They don’t call him man’s best friend for nothing. He had planned on taking both his daughter and Miracle and give Laurel a break but she insisted she could handle it, just like she always does. He was sure she was just being her sweet self and not wanting to feel like she was burdening him but he wasn’t about to undermine her ability to handle things around the house. Besides, him and the boy could use a little bit of quality time. 

As he walked him along the grass, the dog sniffed out a young woman jogging nearby, Dean quickly pulled him back. “Oh no, you don’t, mama won’t approve of you taking her home, boy.” He teasingly scolded, his eyes catching a glimpse of an ice cream vendor down the way, “but I do know something she WILL approve of.” Grinning widely, he made his way to the vendor, ordering a vanilla ice cream cone and one chocolate dipped cone. He didn’t know where in any any century would it be a good idea to try to walk a dog while both hands are pre occupied which is exactly why he stopped off at a nearby bench, instantly licking at the ice cream cone, moving his hand down so the dog could take his own taste, “Yeah, pretty good, huh?” He asked with a smile, petting at the top of his head, before taking a lick of his own when suddenly a noise startled the dog and he began to run off. “Miracle, no!” He called out, getting up from the bench, “son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath when he realized both of his hands were still occupied with the ice cream, attempting to shove them off on the nearest person, “Here, hold these,” he commanded before running off in attempt to retrieve the escaped pet. 

[deservedboth]

VICTOR STONE  &  YOUR CHARACTER,  @everyone​. location:  midtown.

VICTOR’S BEEN HAVING WEIRD VISIONS LATELY,  of a city he doesn’t recognise.  but the visions are so vivid,  that he has no idea where they're coming from,  if the images are real or not.  it doesn't help that his body has been aching more and more lately;  phantom pain from the accident,  or at least that's what he keeps telling himself.  it doesn’t help,  really doesn’t,  not when some of these visions are too real to be fake,  when he's more machine than human in his visions.

HE HAD TO GO ON LEAVE FROM WORK JUST TO COPE,  especially after abusing his body,  going days without sleep or food.  he hadn't been this bad since the accident  -  he'd managed to recover after a while,  but it was as if the circus had brought all of that back again.  he felt mildly guilty for going on break,  knowing his co-workers also weren't doing great.  so,  after finishing all the errands he’s had to run and bringing boxes of pizzas as his apology gift to his coworkers,  he’s just on his way to the mechanic shop when he bumps into a figure.  the boxes fall to the ground,  and vic winces.  oops.

HE’S ACTUALLY ADMITTEDLY SPEECHLESS for a moment before finally,  “ well,  shit.  it’s a good thing dominos has carryout insurance,  i guess.  ”