#plotted starter

[montrealjane]

@aemulatiio plotted starter ♡

The first time it happens, Shane doesn’t even fully process it.

Toronto’s number forty-six flashes him an obnoxious little smirk as they line up for the face-off, and Shane tries to ignore it. It should be easy enough. He’s been chirped at by worse. He’s spent years across from the league’s most relentless instigator and never once let it throw him off his game.

"Hey Hollander...."

The rest is almost swallowed by the noise of the arena, by skates cutting over ice and the referee getting into position. Shane doesn’t hear it properly - not every word, anyway - but he sees the man’s mouth moving, sees the shape of it, the cruel curl of his lips as the meaning lands anyway.

He knows what he said. For half a second, Shane just stares. ...bet you look pretty on your knees

His heart jumps so hard it feels like it lodges in his throat. By the time the puck drops, he is a fraction too late, a fraction too distracted, and that is all it takes. The face-off is lost clean. It doesn’t lead to a goal. Shane chases the play down immediately, recovers as quickly as he can, but it doesn’t matter. Everyone saw it.

"Shame you’re not on my team, Hollander. Starting to think everyone else is getting a turn." It's tossed out almost casually as they pass each other, no more than a low comment under the noise of the game, but Shane hears it anyway.

They meet again at center ice a moment later, skidding to a sharp stop across from each other, and the man crowds straight into Shane's space. Bigger, heavier, looming right there in front of him with that same ugly satisfaction twisting his mouth. Shane's jaw locks and his eyes turn away as their line mates gather around him.

"What about Rozanov?" 46's eyes find Ilya as he stops next to Shane before he continues: "He get first dibs, or you taking requests? Bet I could do you better."

Heat crawls up the back of Shane’s neck, but it has nothing to do with flattery and everything to do with something far uglier, more instinctive than that. Shame settles beneath his skin like rot. It is the kind that makes his pulse stutter and his stomach turn.

[warwaited]

@wxtchfxre

When she'd heard the pitch about recovering villains and a fresh start for someone trying to get a chance to wipe the slate clean, Xue had kind of expected to be asked a lot fewer questions. Doing construction work didn't need nearly this much in the way of background checks.

Where do you live? Chinatown, duh.

Where did you live before that? China.

Where in China? I dunno.

There'd been a lot of "I dunno". How her powers work, where she got them from, why she's being so resistant to "pretty basic" questions. That said, her status as effectively an unincorporated hero (despite the fact that she's tussled with SDN in the past, usually because of "turf wars" they hadn't been aware they were engaging in by showing up to fights she was handling herself) had done some good to smooth the path for her. She'd been put on "probation".

Should probably have guessed those questions weren't just going away, though. She squirms uncomfortably in the seat on the other side of Emma's desk, looking all over the room but not wanting to meet the investigator's eye.

"Y'know, I, uh, actually answered all these questions the first time I was here. They said "okay" so I figured it was. Uh. Okay. Not... talking-to-a-new-person-like-three-weeks-later."

[thoselittledespairs]

The Bailey was quiet for the time of night, surprisingly. She was used to more ruckus and rowdiness, but most of the patrons had gone to bed or had been bar hopping most of the night. She let her staff head off to bed for the night since the work would start again in just a few hours. A few of her band of knights stuck around, though, one of her personal guard manned the door to allow for new or returning patrons in or out. This, was of course, because the Patron ‘saintess’, as dubbed by her companions, was in her true changeling form. Alabaster skin, pitch sclera, and red irises in full view.

The slow nights, she felt safest to be herself. Many of those who came in and out at this time were either long standing patrons of hers or those who already knew this form. It was also a little more calming for those of lesser cared for species to feel at ease in her establishment. To be one whose own lineage was that of ill repute made it all the easier to relax. There would be no guards patrolling this establishment. For, in all technicalities, it is a sanctuary. Within all legal establishments, many refugees took shelter here before being moved out before guards could demand their exit.

As the chime above the door rang, Nox’s posture shifted so she could greet the newest person within the walls of her home, a gentle smile upon her features. “Welcome in, dear. Are you here for a meal or a room?” Her voice lilts softly as she reaches for a cup from behind her on the shelves. “We’ve plenty of delicacies ready to eat if you’re hungry. Kitchens closed for the night, but there’s still plenty left from the dinner rush.” There is a warmth that the changeling exudes as she pours a mug of water to start. “And whatever is your fancy to drink, all our tea is grown, harvested, and brewed in house.”

@adamantforged

[nixxs-archivedx]

Plotted Starter with @lkennedso

The heavy scent of the rotting corridor turned her stomach as she passed through it. Walls covered in a deep black fungus that would make anyone’s stomach turn, no wonder Redfield sent her down here. After Ethan Winters had calcified the target her and Chris was hunting, Ada should have been free of the BSAA’s grasps.

Yet here she was ankle deep in sludge she didn’t care to be stepping through. The ceiling tiles offered little to no lighting, She spent the entire infiltration wondering how she got stuck working undercover Chris Redfield of all people. Especially when the initial contract was done and over with.

Oh how the world seemed to shrink when you were supposed to be dead. Your whole world shrinks down to small points, sewers and moldy corridors. It was the sound of Chris Redfield’s orders being barked at her, this was the price of her freedom. Being dead to everyone who surrounded her.

The sound of footsteps caught her attention, leaning over the iron bars to the ground floor. Dark gems found a familiar frame, her hand moved to the comm unit in her ear. “Redfield we have company.” She pulled herself up to the landing, pointing down she fired off one shot. Just enough to pull attention.

“Let’s have some fun.” Ada quipped her foot leaning out as she released the magazine in her pistol. She dropped without any fear of the height, landing in a crouch. Slowly she stood, the black tactical pants made the red henley she wore more vibrant. Even now fully tactical she wore her signature coloring.

She stood five inches shorter in the tactical boots. Raising the empty gun, she pointed it directly at Leon. “Where’s those knife skills at handsome?” With her free hand she reach over, pulling the tactical mask from her hidden face to reveal herself. “Miss me?”

[xthedevilyouknowx]

Like Gasoline || Plotted Starter

Ryat's boots scuffed across the floor as he made his way over to the bar. He'd order a whiskey, and likely nurse it all night. He wasn't here for the drinks. It all tasted like ash on his tongue anyway.

He was here to hunt, looking for a good high. It had been weeks since he'd killed.... Not on purpose, but Envy had punished him, keeping him locked up. Something about teaching him a lesson. It was obvious it didn't stick. It never did. She doled her punishment, and in days he'd be back to his same shit, not caring what she wanted of him most of the time. In a way, his free spirit was also why he thought he was her favorite. Sometimes it paid off.

Once his drink was ordered, he leaned against the bar, humanistic hazel hues landing here and there on the faces of several humans, probing gently into their minds, seeking out their thoughts, their fears.... who's soul would taste sweetest on his tongue.

As his drink was set before him, he looked down, the fella just down the bar was making a note on his hand when something happened that hadn't happened in several years.... not since he was human. A single word popped up on his palm. A name.

Damian.

Demons didn't have souls... so how the hell did he still have a soulmate? It had been so long since he'd noticed anything pop up. A part of him thought after he offed himself that he'd put an end to the possibility just like he'd put an end to everything else. So far as he remembered and admittedly, his memory of his human years had been hazy. he'd only ever written one note on his skin. It was to the one he was sure was sitting next to him. It hadn't been so much out of guilt. He didn't feel that even in his old life. It was more... obligation, he supposed. Thinking he was going to take himself away from them for eternity.

I'm sorry... hate me if you need to.

He still wanted to hunt, but it could wait. His interest was piqued. Getting to his feet and moving the few spaces between them, he addressed the other, hazel eyes on him as he turned his hand over, letting him see the single word on his palm in their own handwriting.

"Who's Damian?"

@forgottenxarchangel

[moved-ahelluvahigh]

It was snowing outside. At least for one city block, it was snowing, in Hell, in July.

Fortunately, something similar happened last year. Something about Christmas in July.

...But this snowfall was not born from a desire to spark joy, no, this snowfall came from a distressed young Goetia pacing about in her bodyguard's apartment because she couldn't go home-- not until she killed her chambermaid for apparently giving out her every action and word to Baal... and then renounced her title to her father in order to escape whatever prison-marriage Baal had planned to keep her compliant.

An image flashed inside her mind, and she stopped her frantic pacing... if only long enough to glare at the small dragon perched on the back of a miserable looking sofa.

"No. I'm not sicking another king on my father."

Again, the same image flashed, this time accompanied by the words that swirled around in her mind whilst she was in that carriage.

...Mother and father rave about King Paimon almost to the point of worship, yet they rarely speak of Baal.

The princess sighs-- an act which causes a layer of frost to coat the sofa.

... Perhaps it can't hurt... so long as she stresses that this is entirely her idea, and that she has every intention of cutting all ties with her father once this is said and done.

A wave of her hands conjures parchment and paper, and she settles herself on the island that separates the tiny kitchen from the living room in order to write.

Your Grace, I request a moment of your time to discuss the rumors growing from our latest mystery. If you see no reason to discuss such matters, please do not take time from your duties to respond. - With all due respect, Delphine.

Another sigh incases the poor hellhound's refrigerator in ice as she seals the letter and places it in the mouth of her tiny messenger.

"Don't make a nuisance of yourself," she warns as a tiny portal opens, and the glassy messenger flies through.

@avispatr

[godofhuecomundo]

Taken By The Benevolent God | Plotted with @eraserisms

With his power growing, Aizen had learned that his garganta could open more than a split between the Living and Soul worlds, but into other Living Worlds as well. He'd started to slip into some of them, to watch, to learn the differences, to see if any of the humans in those worlds were worthy of his time.

Eventually, though, he found a world where the humans seemed to have broken the boundaries of their own souls and now carried powers as if they carried zanpaktou. The power that should have one day protected them, was there at their disposal already. It was this world that most intrigued him; even if very few had any power worth actually caring about.

But there was one.

One man who's ability could actually prove useful to his cause. It was this man that he sent Gin and Tousen to bring back to him.

Aizen was sitting and watching the moon when the garganta opened, Tousen's scowl telling him the man had fought back. Good, he needed good fighters under him.

Lips curled in his usual indulgent smile, the brunet watched as Gin pushed this human through the garganta ahead of himself. There was amusement in his dark gaze at the way the silver haired man pushed his new warrior to his knees on the stone. His pet still had Shinso drawn, but he'd given the order not to hurt this man before sending his most trusted to fetch him. Aizawa Shota had an important role to play in the upcoming months, after all.

"I take it that my suggestion worked?" His gaze tracked over all three men before him, noting a lack of any real wounds.

"Perfectly, Lord Aizen." Gin's voice lilted brightly as he looked up at his God. "He gave dear Tousen a little trouble, but once I informed him of how my Shinso works and that we would happily visit Miss Eri instead if he didn't care to come with us, he decided to accompany us."

"Thank you, Gin. I appreciate your efforts." There was a hint of darkness in his voice, but one that only he and Gin needed to understand, before he turned his attention to the kneeling man. "It's good to meet you in person, Aizawa Shota. I'd like to welcome you to your new home, here in Los Noches."

[inmensapotentia]

Calm Down | Plotted starter with @cpirits

Plotted fic. Don't like, block us or the tw, we will block you if you start shit.

It wasn't often that Ryuuken got off work quite so early, but then he was nearly to seventy hours when he finally clocked out. So perhaps the earliness wasn't really the problem. However, that was simply part of life when one had the skill to help in the case of a multicar pileup. So he wasn't too bothered by it.

What he was bothered by, was the fact that even smoking three full cigarettes on his short, or perhaps quick would be a better description, drive hadn't calmed him down. Which left him heading directly for his smoke box in his office as there was clearly little else that was going to calm down the low grade panic he was still riding from back to back surgeries. He'd dug out one of the few pre-rolled joints he had, ones laced with resin to hit even harder, and headed down for the kitchens as he lit it. As if he would cook something just because he was home this early instead of ordering in whatever made to mind when he got hungry enough.

Years of practice kept him from coughing over the heat or the weed itself, as he walked through the house. Though he was only a couple puffs in when he stepped into the study and stopped at the sight of Uryuu on one of the couches looking about to cry. Though really the greater worry was that continuing to stand there, he had to wait to see the teen draw in a breath, as small and shallow as it was.

The doctor suppressed a roll of his eyes as he walked in closer, his hip pressing against the arm of the couch Uryuu sat on. "What's wrong?"

While he absolutely did care about what was going on with his son, especially since the younger Ishida had lost his Quincy powers, Ryuuken also found himself more frustrated when the teen started to babble at him. Or at least he thought that was what Uryuu was trying to do, since the words came out broken and distorted on hitched breaths and a wet voice.

His own mind wasn't nearly as balanced as he tried to keep himself, not yet, and he didn't really think through his options. Instead, he acted on instinct. Usually that went well for him. Tonight, that meant that he pulled in a deep drag from his joint, drawing until his own lungs hurt, and then grabbed Uryuu's jaw. Ryuuken had never been one to get physical with his son, no matter how mad he got, so his grip got the boy to gasp and he took advantage of the part of his lips.

Leaning down over the brunet, he pressed his lips over Uryuu's and exhaled hard, pushing the smoke into his son's mouth instead. Drawing back, he looked down with the same blank, nearly disinterested, look on his face for a moment as the college student started to cough. Scoffing slightly over how unaccustomed Uryuu was to the smoke, he stood up and took another drag off the joint for himself as he headed through the study to get to the kitchens.

He paused only long enough to speak before disappearing from the room. "When you've calmed down, I'll be in the kitchens."