#teletaped

[radioways]

                    THEY ARE NOT ONE FOR LONELY NIGHTS, strangers have become a far less often occurrence for pilot. they have partners, rarities they find themself somewhat fond of. peter ransom has found himself in one of those positions. to be more specific, he’s found himself held in higher esteem. a favorite of pereyra’s. which perhaps feeds thief’s ego a bit more than he should allow. they are not one for softness, mayoral office leaves little room for soft heart, but there are moments, just this morning, delicate fingers had carded through impossibly soft hair, a perk, along with the payment of debts. ( it truly does pay to have powerful friends, doesn’t it ? ) 

                      THEY TILT THEIR HEAD, looking down at him with interest.   “ missing me enough to break into my office already, ransom ? ”   he cocks an eyebrow.   “ you’re going to start getting yourself in trouble. ”   pilot warns, almost taunting, as fingers brush along the other’s cheek. softly before they retreat, leaning against the dark wood of their desk.   “ or did you need something ? ”   his gaze is different now, more amused, that of the cat who has caught the canary. 

@teletaped​ ( nureyev + pereyra ) 

[vcrtigoes-a]

@teletaped​ sent  /   “ excuse my ego . ” ft agnes

“ look ... i know you’re upset. ” a quiet, pacifying tone, steady rain before raging inferno willing to consume and raze all that laid bare before it. the wrath of the messiah of the lightless flame would not so easily be quieted. 

 he could feel the heat rolling from her from here, the air itself shimmering and distorting slightly like the summer heat hovering above burning pavement. her fists still remained clenched despite clipped apology. it was not an anger directed at him, but for him, and was likely the only reason he could even remain in the same room  — already it felt as if the very air was having the moisture ripped away from it. 

“ doubting your ability to cook him from the inside out isn’t the issue. ” a weak, somewhat placating smile. “ i just don’t want to see you climb into my grave to avenge it when i just got out of it. i’d rather have the company here right now. ”

[acemenagerie-a]

starter for @teletaped for Elias Jonah { s.c. }

As the door of his clinic opened, bell pleasantly tinkling, something in Fanshawe’s gut twisted, though he didn’t understand why.  

Then, he heard the voice.

Instantly, his insides exploded in white-hot rage, burning up his throat.  His fists clenched hard enough to pop his knuckles.  The wood of his dip pen audibly cracked.  Hurling himself up from his desk, vision red, he flicked the blade free of his swordstick and stalked to the front.

Brandishing the blade with pure focus on the interloper, Fanshawe snarled, movement highlighting the scar that ran from the corner of his mouth up onto his cheek.  “You have an astounding amount of gall to darken my clinic’s doorstep, Magnus.”

He spit Jonah’s name like he hated even having the sounds in his mouth, which, to be frank, he did.

[odisn]

"Cringe" culture is bullshit. It's 2021 let people like their animes and do their naruto runs and talk about warrior cats and watch their movies they like and create / write self inserts and read romance novels and what not.

☝️😌

[pageburnt-a]

                    USUALLY HE STAYS IN THE ARCHIVES, or the library, tucked away in a corner reading some book, catching up on research : always learning, growing the catalogue of monsters that is his own head, gertrude had insisted it was important he stay sharp, and he agreed. if they were to be traveling together, if he was going to help, then he needs to be aware of what he’s doing, what to look for. but gertrude is in one of her moods, reading through statements to take the edge off, and he doesn’t feel much like reading, so . . .  he’s lurking the halls, book tucked under one arm and freshly dyed hair in his face. if there’s one thing gerard knows, it’s that elias doesn’t like him, and to be fair he doesn’t much like the stuck up prick either. ( something his mother and him had in common. ) his jaw tenses at the thought, and he shoves it back down before it can bubble further.   

                    HE’S THINKING ABOUT THE ACHE IN HIS KNUCKLES, about bloody old man sprawled across cobblestone, the pathetic look he’d given him: scared.  gerard is stronger than he looks, he knows it, has known it for a very long time, and learned to keep it under check. but he’d been so . . . angry.   “ what ? ”   sarcasm drips from his tone, annoyance wrought in tired features.   “ was i thinking too loud ? ”

*    ⟢   @teletaped​   ( ♡  ) 

[escapedartgeek]

@teletaped​

[x]

The feeling of Dana’s hand taking theirs in, still instills such a strange flutter within them. It’s taking everything within Zora to remain focused on the idea at hand, working on an expansive art project for the town. It was something that they loved the idea of doing, but sometimes the lurking doubt had a way of creeping up on them.

“It would be a good way to get back into the swing of things,“ they speak softly before giving a nod. “Sure, I’m glad to do this for you. It should be exciting.“

[panopticonncd]

Here, in this time (3rd May, 1992) and this place (The Magnus Institute, London,) James is quiet as he wanders the halls, cold eyes taking in the comings and goings of those under his roof. He likes sneaking up on people, he’s found  --  what a nice little prickling as his employees are jolted by his unexpected appearance.

It is perhaps out of habit (or a betrayal of some unconscious desire) that he finds himself walking to a familiar desk in a large, otherwise empty room. The sun bleeds red and orange across the old hardwood floors as it makes its final descent below the horizon, and yet still Elias Bouchard sits, working away the hours of his day. What a good, dedicated young man. Seeing him so focused delights him in a way that is perhaps a bit untoward.

But when has that ever stopped him?

His oxfords are silent as James approaches the young man from behind, not even the faintest whisper of cloth breaking apart that precious quiet. As he steps close enough to peer over the young man’s shoulder, he finds nothing particularly interesting being filed  --  an acquisition document for an object that had found its home here ten years previously. James would have thrown the thing out, knowing as he does that it has no real supernatural properties, but academic integrity and all that.

A small smile curls at the corner of his mouth for a brief moment before he speaks, his voice far too loud in contrast to the quiet.   “Working late, Mr. Bouchard? I do not believe there’s been any overtime approved for this pay cycle.”

@teletaped​

[screenviolense-a]

@teletaped​ sent: “ are you sure you’re okay? ” [ Sarah Carpenter from Eric Delano? ]

          ‘ yeah, i’ll survive. if not, i’ll sue. ‘ unfortunately, the pair of crutches wouldn’t be great for her biking routine and she hated public transportation more than she hated workplace accidents. and this one would leave her desk bound for far longer than she liked. ‘ i thought it would be fun to get out of the office and look where that got me. emma didn’t even get a scratch on her, i don’t know how the old bitch gets away with it. ‘