#thedarkrp

[inthedarkrp]

just a few previews for you lovely and patient people

[benzemasmistress]

ANIKA VARMA

Sirens.

She could hear them now, the blaring sound cutting through the silence that there had once been. Red and blue lights following, almost in sync, not quite. Off. One, two, three seconds behind the deafening sounds. Trying to catch up, trying to match the others’ dance, never catching, always one, two, three seconds late.

She was too late.

Not the sirens, it was her. Too late. One, two, three seconds. Four, five, then six.

Time ticking too quickly, mocking her as she tried to run, to catch up. Be there before it would be too late, before time would have the last laugh, before the noise stopped, before the flashing lights won the race.

Was it all just a deadly trick? A game?

Her imagination?

No.

No, it was all too real, felt too real. Looked too real.

No one could play a trick like this, not even her own mind. Surely someone would tell her that soon enough, that this was happening, that she was too late. Hadn’t been quick enough, hadn’t been smart enough, hadn’t been brave enough.

Hadn’t been enough.

That the deep red color on her hands was there, that it was her fault. That she could’ve done more to prevent this, could’ve done more to stop this. To stop him.

She hadn’t done enough and it was all her fault.

The death of a young woman, who barely had the chance to live her life before it was taken by a concoction that she had been responsible for.

The upheaval of her family, leaving her husband, her daughter, feeling afraid, needing to worry for their safety, for their lives.

Lives that had been altered by her actions, by her selfishness, by her desires, her intentions. Ones that may have been good, but not even that fact could change what had happened, what she had done, what she had caused.

Her fault, her fault, her fault.

It was all her fault and Iseul couldn’t escape that fact, couldn’t erase it. Couldn’t change what had happened or the results of it.

The words played over, and over, and over again in her mind as if they were a tune that she couldn’t be rid of, a song that she was forced to keep singing, keep hearing. One that told her all of what she had done, what she had caused, and what could come.

A song that became sirens in the middle of the night when she tried to sleep, only waking to find her breathing heavy, her heart racing, her hands shaking.

A tune that sounded the high pitched ring of the alarm, of Harsh and Leila’s screams, of her father’s laughter and taunts.

Of things that were promises that served as a reminder, that were the threat lurking in the dark, in the depths of her mind, somewhere outside of her home. Always there, refusing to leave her alone, constantly reminding her of what she had done.

Of who she could still lose.

[sea-citrus]

got my large coffee

time to get this place ready to open

[dlunas]

whispers did anyone end up doing a fight club thing? if so can u holla @ me bc i want in on it (if not should i make one???)

[killmongerthiskoochie]

i just went on a massive like spree all the way back to the beginning of the tag because you guys are so awesome [kim k cry].  i have so many feels for everyone’s characters already thanks to the effort and creativity you’ve all put into your posts!!  excuse this sappy post tho my head is in the clouds but the fact remains the same:  you’re all beaut <3

[vexdrolo]

Eden House has been a home to wayward travelers and those passing through East Erie for decades. It’s a well-sized victorian-style home complete with eight bedrooms, a spacious living room/common area, a library, three full bathrooms and a half bathroom. The building as well as all it’s furnishings and appliances are clearly dated, but in good repair. The back yard is lush and well groomed, with a greenhouse packed full of all manner of plant life. 

Tallulah is the current proprietor of Eden House, which has been in her family for years. Six years ago, after the death of her cousin and the former propritor of Eden House, Lula moved to East Erie to oversee the home and all it’s tenants. 

Rent isn’t exceptionally high, enough to keep the house running and turn over enough of a profit so that Lula doesn’t have to seek outside work, but she’s not greedy. While she does have a matronly streak and tends to take care of those living under her roof, she already has one child and that’s plenty enough for her. Everyone at Eden House is expected to clean up after themselves and do their fair share to keep the place looking nice. Lula tries to encourage a familial environment, she cooks a big dinner on Sunday’s which everyone is invited to and genuinely cares about the people living under her roof, but she’s not nosy. If you choose to barricade yourself in your bedroom and maintain your privacy, that’s up to you. 

Pot is a staple in Eden House. Lula sells it, smokes it, and cooks shit with it. So if that’s not your thing then Eden House probably isn’t the place for you because you’ll likely smell it the moment you walk in. The greenhouse is open to anyone, but if you touch her marijuana plants she will kick your ass and then kick you out. 

The house is split up into three levels. On the ground floor is the kitchen, living room, half bathroom, one regular bedroom and the master bed and bath. Those two rooms are inhabited by Lula and her four year old daughter Ivy. All the rest of the rooms are up for grabs. On the second level there’s four bedrooms, a full bathroom, and the library. The third floor, or the attic floor, is the smallest of all the levels and holds the remaining two bedrooms and one more full bathroom. 

Pretty much anyone is welcome to a spot in this request, whether they’re locals who just can’t afford a place of their own or out-of-towner’s looking for a place to stay for the duration of their time in East Erie. The more varied, the more interesting it’ll be! (A mix of ages would be fun.:3) They’ll be a ton of room for plotting since they all live in such close quarters and I’m very excited so please jump on board.

second floor rooms

room one: cash corcoran. 26. tbd. cora.

room two:  eugenia mallory. 29. emma stone. eris.

room three: caroline beaufort. 28. tbd. meg.

room four: zebediah kelly. 36. tbd. fury.

attic floor rooms

room one: kyra samson. 21. tbd. becky.

room two: samira kamala. 24. tbd. amalie.

[zophiabush]

when holly’s dev posts make u look like a  b a s i c  bitch

[champagnemiracles]

“out from his mouth spilled the crags of tombs and the whispers of dying kings, the mirrors in his pupils fragmented church glass and bloodletting drains. beneath his hide a transparency of phantoms that would never rest, in his mind the repetitive black howl of isolation and loss. and yet in the median of his heart grew one flimsy blossom that engulfed the coffer that held him, and sprung from the phlegmatic soil that kept him dead. it was her.”

i’ve had this dismally cute idea of a wretchedly optimistic florist working in stride with a morbidly sour faced mortician for awhile now and i think this is the perf place to execute it!!! i have my natalia dyer, twenty four year old barbara scoutson who is probably one of the few blips of rosy elation in east erie, but pretty much had to be following a harrowing car accident at sixteen. she persevered through the wreck, but was left with epilepsy that wrought her parents in suffocating disquiet that pretty much caused her life to dwindle to under the microscope surveillance. the one extension to normalcy is her job managing her mother’s floral shop, and in the last year she’s been having to do arrangement dealings with a local funeral home and it’s apathetic as balls mortician. he’s been surrounded by demise and corpses since birth and has turned out to be a very elegantly morose soul, finding beauty in places and things people would otherwise view as macabre or depressing. although visibly allergic to sunshine and glee with the way a grimace is tattooed on his mouth, he finds depth and interest in his conversations with bobbi as she provides an alternative perspective to his ghoulish purview.

they’re opposites for friends and she’s known to drag him (literally he’ll claw at the wall whispering ‘pls no’) to extroverted light hearted situations, and in turn he escorts her to the silent hovels tucked in the emptiness of east erie to let her feel free of her parent’s worry. he’s the one person that doesn’t fear her seizures (but deep down he’s terrified she’s gonna end up on his table) and she’s the one person that doesn’t view him as some twisted loner. but she’s got a new boyfriend she’s devoted to, and he’ll never be pure enough for her. things start to spiral however when he catches said boyfriend cheating on bobbi, and when he reveals this to her and she doesn’t leave the dude, debates and stress ensue that wedge a fracture between them and their what could become.

i could literally go on for hours i need to STOP MYSELF I WILL BURN THIS HOUSE DOWN but take him god damn just imagine disney’s rapunzel next to a tim burton character and him giving her dead daises but instead of her being disgusted she sits on his lap and puts them in his hair RLLY PLATONIC OBVIOUSLY help i’ve fallen. in my mind he’d probably inherited his father’s funeral business the second he was of age but maybe was vying for an alternative career, is a snark lord observer who only smiles just a lil’ bit and doesn’t fear much. ranged around 25-29, and here are some broody lookin’ fuckers for face ideas!!! kit harington, bob morley, vinnie woolston, tyler blackburn, but if you have anybody else run it by me!!! and know that this’ll prob have mature themes because death and illness and morbidity and yeah but i promise i’m a harmless muffin!! SHIA LABEOUF VOICE JUST DO IT!!!!

EDIT: THIS HAS BEEN FILLED THANK YOU MY SWEETS