
shark vs the universe

Acquired Stardust
Sade Olutola

Discoholic đŞŠ
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Claire Keane

çĽćĽ / Permanent Vacation
we're not kids anymore.
d e v o n
Jules of Nature
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
wallacepolsom
trying on a metaphor

romaâ

@theartofmadeline
hello vonnie
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@matty-miles

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queenamongstshades¡:
âGood to know. Many people make the opposite assumption, but I canât say Iâm really the haunting sort. Donât see the appeal, myself.â Caoimhe manages a laugh despite the uncomfortable circumstances. Her smile is more genuine with the introduction. âPleasure to meet you, Matt. Even if it required my barging in.â The question receives a raise of her brow at first â after all, are there fictional smithies? â but Caoimhe is quick to nod. âAye, quite impressive ones, too, if I say so myself. Think I may have some bias, though.â Her head tilts at the mention of a sale. Another term to run by Faolan later, it seems, as it rings no bells. But from the manâs tone, she can assume it means the lamp has little value. âI see.â She murmurs, though she evidently does not. âPoint taken. Iâll⌠see myself out.â Caoimheâs not sure if she opens the door so much as she walks through it, but no matter. She waits patiently outside of the room, squinting out the window at the end of the hall in order to give her best attempt at locating where, precisely, she currently is. No such luck. âDamn.â
âWell, fuck assumptions.â Matt twists the end of his lips into a sneer. âHonestly, nobody really knows anything, but they still talk shits âcause if they donât, they get scared shitless.â He speaks up rather genuinely. Maybe his morning (or afternoon) sleepiness got to him. âI know nothing about you other than your name and that you are in my bedroom. Ainât got no assumption to make from there.â He shrugs before returning an easygoing smile. âEy, nice to meet ya too.â As she steps (floats?) out of the room, Matt grabs a hoodie and a pair of shorts, getting dressed quick and dirty. He canât find his phone, though. Mustâve left it somewhere last night. So the hunt begins... âSo, this impressive smithy, do you know the name or the general location?â He asks as he goes over to the fridge, gets orange juice and drinks it out of the container. âAny landmark nearby? I gotta go find my phone so I can drop you off on the way, or something.â
calliope-warrenâ:
âA janky ass beacon, sureâ Cal stated back in a bit of a mocking way. At this point of the altercation, plenty of people have exited the bar. Without paying, of course, though the witchâs concerns were less aimed at the state of tonightâs business and more on the lunatics that had brought trouble to Terranceâs. Calliope frowned at the announcement one those mob people. âThe fuck are you talking about?â she said with both disdain and condescension. For a supposedly âsupernatural safe heavenâ, Lethe did have its fair share of maniacs.
With the fire beginning to spread and the lamia next to her having little clue as to how to put it out, Cal rushed to grab a broken bottle. âYou know itâs commonly more useful to put out fires than start them, right?â she told Matt as she began to use one of the sharp edges of the bottle to quickly scratch an array of symbols on the floor. âMight want to consider a basic course on thatâ she said before muttering an enchantment. A faint golden glow appeared in the circle due to the witchâs dispelling magic, which caused the fire on the floor to flicker and die out. There was new trouble thanks to the Molotov cocktails, thoughâŚÂ âOh, for fuckâs sake!â.
âJanky beacon, great assâ Matt says with a finger gun. He likes to think that his general âlive and let liveâ vibe and lax lifestyle serve as an example, either a good one or bad one, and helps other relax. What if shits go wrong? Just gotta roll with it. But then again, there are idiots like these fuckers. Even Matt knows what they are spewing is dumb. As one of the idiots push him to the pool table, he grabs a cue ball and smashes it to their face. After kicking that one away, he channels his energy to his hand, lighting the cue ball on fire. Turning to the one who spoke up about message and shits, Matt hurls it across the room and strikes right in the forehead. âGet outta here, nobody cares.â
Matt keeps close to Cal as she draws some sigils on the floor. âWell, if I start a fire, I usually have a good reason to-- case in point,â he gestures around them before grabbing the cue stick on the floor. He uses it to strike a charging, burly man in the crotch. âAnd I dunno, man. Never really had to put out fires.â The smoke begins to fill the room. Even though he is draining life-force from the mobs whenever he can, but he is definitely growing exhausted. âIsnât there like, a-- what was it called? Extinguisher?â He says as he drops the stick as it snaps in two after hitting people a few times.Â
He turns to the growing fire. Controlling flame is a part of his power. He should know how to extinguish them. He knows how to-- he just doesnât remember. âI hate this,â he mutters to himself. Gritting his teeth, Matt focuses on that big, black hole he always visualizes in his mind, a shape given to the blindspot in his memories. Did he lose something important through there, or something new came through that hole? He will never know. All that matters is that he needs to put this fire out. Itâs like fumbling through the dark room that you have been thousand times before. He remembers faded images of smokes, ashes, burning buildings, charred bodies... And Matt reaches out his hand at the fire, closes it as if he was wrapping his fingers around an invisible neck choking it. With that, the fire begins to goes out.Â
evikoningâ:
Is she prone to self destruction? Itâs not a diagnosis Evi has ever made for herself, but she recalls it from others. Look at what you do to yourself, her mother had told her once, looking at the hair Evi had shorn herself with a pair of kitchen scissors. But she likes to think sheâs outgrown it. A one-off fling with Matty fucking Miles, however⌠that might be evidence for the prosecution. And so the sight of him isnât exactly one sheâs overjoyed about, especially when she spots a tell-tale paper bag in his hand. Booze â whiskey, if she remembers his tastes right. Terrific. âNot much.â She replies simply, weary from a day spent in the sun and the seemingly constant temptation of alcohol. It really can be exhausting. âHowâre you? Itâs, uh, been a second.â Pointedly. Sheâs good at turning street corners quickly when she has to in order to avoid unwanted company. Not so lucky this time. âOh.â Evi replies, realizing how acutely stupid she must sound. Look, too, with how she raises her hand to her own ear. âOne of the, ah, aqua one. Right.â As if it makes a difference to him. They were pricy, though, and are personal favorites. What are they worth to her, really? Enough, her gut tells her. Fok. âIâm assuming you donât have it sitting in your pocket right now.â Thatâd be too easy, wouldnât it?
Matt hums to himself, cocking his head to the side and watching her. Running into your random hookups without the booze to numb your senses or the neon lights of the night is not the best feeling in the world... or so heâs been told. Honestly, Matt doesnât understand what is there to be awkward about. âWell, there was a fire at Terranceâs,â he conveniently drops the part that he technically started it by accident. How was he supposed to know they were carrying Molotov cocktails? âSo Iâm kind of on a vacation.â He steps aside to the mouth of an alleyway. He fishes out a cigarette and lights it with a tiny blue flame on the tip of his hand. He tips the packet toward Evi, offering her one. âDonât know what that means exactly. Is it the blueish one?â He asks with the cigarette hanging between his lips. âItâs not like I planned on running into you. Itâs back at the apartment. Iâm on my way back there, if you wanna grab it. I can just drop it off at your work too--â he offers before his impish nature pushes him for teasing her, âor would that be too embarrassing for you?â
calliope-warrenâ:
Cal let out a sigh. She couldnât say she knew Matt very well yet but she had noticed he did have a knack for that⌠she just wasnât aware that such a proclivity could lead to a hoard of angry drunks wanting to beat him to a pulp or stab him. And by extension, they wanted to do that to her too since sheâd gotten herself involved. Mama would be so proud. âThatâs so reassuringâ she said with a deadpan look to her coworker. The lamia had some pretty neat tricks under his sleeve and Cal could appreciate that he could drain those bastards of their energy. Rendering to useless blobs on the floor was one way to end a fight, after all. The witch didnât stop and stare to admire his skills, though, she continued to fend off against another asshole that tried to attack, throwing a kick that hurled him backwards towards a table. When she turned she saw the dude in flames fall down on a pool of alcohol on the floor, which quickly caught fire. âAh, fuckâŚâ. She nudged at Matt. âWell? Are you putting that out or do I have to?â she asked as she tilted her head towards the fire. She could work on a conjuring to vanquish the flames but he was a goddamn lamia. His kind could control fire so he should be able to make it vanish, right? Though clearly he wasnât the most proficient little devil with his fiery skills.
âI know, Iâm like a shining beacon of hope.â Matt flashes her a brazen grin. All jokes aside, he doubts that these assholes are here for him specifically. Terranceâs is a bar well-known for its brawls, and most bartenders know how to hold themselves at fight-- sometimes Matt wonders if thatâs how Terry hires people. Why would they deliberately start a fight here? He looks over the shoulder where Brad and Spencer are at, and hears the mob going-- âwe are here to send a message!â âYouâre either with us, or against us!â Matt raises a brow, muttering to himself, âwell, thatâs dumb.âÂ
As the fire begins to spread, Matt stares at it with his mouth agape for two seconds. His reflexes reacts faster than him, and he steps aside from a bat swinging down on him. He kicks the bat off to the side, trips the legs and elbows them right in the crown of their head. âHereâs the thing--â he says, âIâm great at starting fire, but thereâs a reason why Iâm a bartender not a fireman!â The mob begins to pull out Molotov cocktails and throws them on the wall. â...but I guess I should start learning how to put out fire.â He mutters to himself.Â

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Date: 10 May 2021 Time:Â 7:12 PMÂ Location:Â Outside a bodega
At this time of the day, Matt would usually be working or bar hopping. But since Terranceâs is under repair and several bars are closed for business to stay out of trouble, he is unusually free tonight. Beside, he is still recovering from some bruises and cuts from the rumble. That wouldnât stop him from getting a drink, though. He bought himself a bottle of whiskey and coke, and a bag of chips. On his way out of the bodega, he almost runs into the familiar face. Evi is... a friend, even though she stopped being his supplier. ââey, whatâs up,â he greets with a small smirk, stepping aside from the door. He tries to remember something, and goes âah, right, thatâs what it was-- you left an earring at my place.âÂ
@evikoningâ
queenamongstshades¡:
âNew for me, too, I assure you.â Caoimhe is quick to give a fleeting smile, her eyes darting around the room, trying to orient herself with where she is at present. Nowhere familiar, but that isnât unusual these days. Most places donât quite ring a bell just yet. Her brow quirks at the mention of time, but she wonât argue. Doesnât quite have the right, she thinks, given her entrance. âIâm Caoimhe. One of the â er ââ She was about to say fae folk, but that hasnât been true for some time. âIâve become what most people around here call a shade, I believe. But no worries, I havenât shown up to haunt you. Just⌠havenât quite oriented myself yet, I suppose. This certainly was not where I intended to reappear. Didnât mean to disappear in the first place actuallyâŚâ Does this count as a haunting, anyway? How the logistics change when you yourself are the specter. âIt was worth a try,â she shrugs when the man is unable to direct her. âIf you ever do need a sword fixed, I know the gentleman for the job.â Caoimheâs brows quirk for a moment, then she laughs. âAh. Yes, that would be nice, if only I could actually partake in a pint nowadays.â She really should give up on the jokes. âAnyhowâŚâ her gaze drifts back to what she knocked over and Caoimhe winces. âBelieve I may have broken that.â
Matt hums as he leans back against the bedpost. He honestly doesnât mind finding strangers in his bedroom. That tends to happen when you get drunk and hook up with people. But this is... well, not that case. He knows that experience, being something thatâs discussed among people. âEh, I didnât think you were here to haunt me. Honestly, Iâd pity the lot that would end up haunting ,e/â He jokes dryly, rubbing the back of his head. âYou can call me Matt.â He says. He highly doubts that he would need a blacksmith-- he canât think of anyone who would go to a smithy, aside from Terry who is like a dinosaur. âIs it like an actual smithy? Like with armors and swords?â he asks as he begins to climb out of the bed. He stops himself, remembering that he is not fully dressed. âEh, donât worry about it, I got it from a garage sale. Pretty sure it was already done for.â He waves off her concern about the lamp. âAnd you should probably wait outside. Iâll... try to look for this smithy of yours afterward.âÂ
calliope-warren¡:
Cal glanced towards Matt and gave him a nod. âNot too shabby yourself. The fire trick is neatâ she told him with a nonchalant smirk, casually pointing at his fist that had been engulfed by flames a moment ago. Just then the other guy approached, spewing out curses about how sheâd just taken down his best buddy or something. âOh, your pal is a scumbagâ she stated flatly before she dodged a punch and kicked the man in the knee repeatedly, before throwing a high kick to hook the front of her boot to his neck and bring him down as she rotated her hip, smashing his face to the floor. âDid you piss off these guys or something?â she shouted in Mattâs direction before doing a spinning hook kick to defend herself from another aggressor. âYeah, no, I didnât bring that amulet today, manâ she said sarcastically, since the kind of witchcraft she had specialized in worked around potions and amulets. âLet me see your handâ she quickly commanded and as the lamia held out his bleeding hand to her, she used her charmed tourmaline ring to absorb the pain from Mattâs wound. The wound itself didnât vanish but it did become smaller and the witch moved forward, skillfully dodging an attack to go ahead and land a punch straight to a guyâs throat. What her ring had absorbed from Matt was then released into that guy, who struggled to shout as he gripped his throat and looked down at his palm, where a small cut appeared.
Matt actually has to think for a second if these fuckers were after him. âCanât say. Pissing people off is kind of my forte, thoughâ and then he turns to one of the assailants, asks-- âdid I sleep with your spouse? Is that it?â He laughs as they take it as a taunt and charges toward him. He steps aside and trips them, using their own speed against them. âI dunno, man, maybe?â He finally answers the question to Cal. He gives her his bleeding hand without questioning. He doesnât know jackshit about magic, so he defers it to her. He raises the brow as the pain sorts of melt away. âHuh. thatâs usefulâ he remarks as he clenches his wounded hand repeatedly, uncaring that it bleeds further. Turning to the next one just in time, Matt jumps and drags a man twice his size to the ground. âExcuse me,â he says as he drains energy from the man, healing his cut. As he gets back up, he throws a streak of fire at the ones far back-- and the explodes bigger than he expected or intended. The one who is set on fire screams, and the flame catches on the alcohol on the floor. â...oh, shit.â
âIf you ever change your mind about leaving it all behind, remember. Remember-- no geography. Me, you and me. Him and her and them too. And you and me too. I
'll take you along, I'll take you along with meâ
Date: May 3rd 2021 Time: 1:30 pm Location: Not where Caoimhe planned to be Status: Open!
She doesnât know much â Caoimhe will be the first to admit to that. What she does know: that house. Faolanâs, technically, though she supposes she should get used to calling it theirs. An apartment, heâd informed her, but it simply feels like home. A shared space above that smithy of his. Sheâs also beginning to know the tell-tale signs of incorporeality â thatâs what that kind witch had called this, anyway. This weakened feeling, an exhaustion that comes with haste and doesnât quite let up, making her figure flicker and fade before her own eyes. Unlike during those in-between years, nowadays Caoimhe can keep herself on this side of the veil. The more difficult part seems to be staying where she wants to be. Which is how she lands in the midst of a room that is not at all part of the home sheâd expecting to find her footing in. The shade winces as something topples over, and sheâs reaching to right it when she spots her company looking as surprised as she is. âOh! Well.â Sheâs definitely not in the right place, then. âSeems Iâve made right bags of this. Hm.â Faolan will probably be having a bloody fit. Fantastic. âApologies for entering like this. Would you mind telling me how far I am from the smithy? Suppose itâd be good to know precisely how awful I am at navigating.â
Ever since the fresh bullshit of Lethean New Yearâs, Matt has developed some sort of... sixth sense. He gets a burning tingle down his spine when a ghost-- or shade, whatever they were called-- was near. He wakes up to that feeling this morning. He sits up from his bed, narrowing his eyes as suddenly a woman appears in the middle of his room and knocks over the lamp. âWell... this is new.â He mutters to himself, his voice still hoarse from the sleep. âDonât get me wrong, lady, I donât mind someone invading my privacy most of the time, but itâs too goddamn early in the morning...â he says, glancing at his phone on the nightstand to realize that it is well past noon. âEarly-ish. Anyway, who are you and what the hell are you doing in my bedroom?â he asks before she asks the question of her own. âThe Smithy?â He raises a brow. âI dunno, man. Do I look like I go to a blacksmith to get my sword fixed? ...I can tell you where each and every bar is in town, if that helps.âÂ

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calliope-warren¡:
Cal touched her jaw one more time, a ring with a black stone in one of the fingers that brushed against the aching area. She narrowed her eyes at the asshole that hit her as she composed herself, standing straight. âThat was a mistake, palâ. This wasnât the first time some guy rose a hand to her and that was the very reason Calliope had learned to rely on more than just magic to defend herself, even more so having grown un in a place where her magic was her most precious secret. Luckily for her, she could make ample use of both strength and magic here. âI said back off, bit-â the guy began to say right as he launched himself towards her to land another hit. This time it didnât connect, as Cal quickly stepped aside and threw a roundhouse kick right to the manâs abdomen. âYou wanna call me âbitchâ one more time? You sure about that?â. The dude lied on the floor as Cal looked down on him. She reached down to tap his shoulder and the man let out a pained groan. The black tourmaline encrusted on one of her rings was a charmed gem, one meant to ease pain. It took away physical pain, which was contained inside the gem until she performed a cleansing spell or released it on someone else. She rose up and kicked him in the leg before turning to Matt. âYeah, Iâm fineâ she said, before her attention was caught by some dude who glanced down at his fallen friend and decided it was a good idea to come towards her next.
Matt glances over the shoulder, checking how Cal is faring. He raises the brows as he blocks the incoming hook with his forearm, mildly impressed by her perfect kick. âNice.â He comments with a smirk. He grabs the hood of the guy in front of him, pulls it down to block the sight before taking reeling his head back. He swings forward drawing an arc, and headbutts the assailant with a loud crack. Matt clocks him with his elbow, finishing off. As he turns to Cal, he catches the glint of a knife lunging toward Cal. He grabs it out of instinct, and channels the sharp pain on his palm into conjuring flame. In a flash of bright blue, the knife and the arm is set on fire. âI take it back-- I donât think they are here for a brawl.â He sucks in the air as blood drips from his palm. He takes a few steps toward where Cal is. âYouâre a witch, right? Got any magic woohoo to make these fuckers disappear?â he asks with a low chuckle.Â
calliope-warrenâ:
Sheâd heard that bar brawls took place at Terranceâs from time to time, but frankly, she thought they were more along the lines of drunken clients shouting at each other, maybe tossing a glass to the floor⌠not people crashing empty bottles in each otherâs heads and pulling out the magic to defend and attack. In a place like Lethe, teeming with supernaturals of all kinds, she shouldâve seen that coming. The witch let out a sigh and looked at Matt as he managed to get a blue flame ablaze dancing in his hand. Calliope could throw down if it came to it, but as indifferent as Terry seemed to be to run a good business, she wasnât looking to cause trouble in his establishment and get fired so soon. âGuys, come onâ she said, somewhere between stern and annoyed, moving towards one of the guys to try and break the fight. âBack off, bitch!â the brute drunkenly slurred as he threw a left hook right to her face. âMotherf-â Cal muttered as she pressed her hand to her jaw. Any attempt at playing mediator and resolving the situation in a calm manner vanished from her mind in that instant.
Matt tackles down another target and pommels them repeatedly with his flaming fist. Someone kicks him over the head, and the sheer force of it throws him to an empty booth. A cut on his forehead lets down a trickle of blood, and Matt laughs in some kind of Dionysian zeal as he jumps back to his feet. âNow weâre talking.â Unlike his bravado, his instinct calmly assesses the situation: these hooded assailants are faster and stronger than him, and they have the advantage in numbers. On his side, he has Calliope whose skills he is yet to see, and Brad and Spencer on the other side of the bar... Where the fuck is Terry? Matt clicks his tongue and takes a few steps backward to Calliope. âYou alright there, newbie?â He asks, ducking out of the way of a punch and grabbing the guy in front of him by the wrist. He drains their life-force before punches them in the gut.
iâm a walking disaster but at least iâm not straight
Date: 28 April 2021 Time: 00:42 AM Location:Â Terranceâs
Matt walks out of the menâs room, zipping up his pants after hooking up with a random fae guy (who is now passed out on the toiler after Matt drained the life force dry). Stretching his back, he struts out to the bar where he hears the sound of brawling, as per usual. From behind him, the new bartender Cal comes out of the womenâs room as well. âThink weâve got a bar fight going on,â he says gesturing toward the bar, and then he puts up this devilish grin. âYou had the proper Terrance brawling yet? âcause Iâd love to see what youâve got, Cal.âÂ
With that, Matt rushes out, grabs an empty beer bottle on the way and smashes it across the head of a hooded figure. After tossing away the broken bottle, he snaps his wrist repeatedly, rhythmically, muttering âcâmon, câmon, câmonâ as if he was trying to get an old lighter to work. After a second or two, his fist lights up in bright azure flame. âThere we go!â He yells out and throws a perfect uppercut at his stumbling victim.Â
@calliope-warrenâ

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forgive me father for I have sinned in all the coolest and most glamorous ways possible
unfortunately for everybody i will keep doing whatever i want