✖ monster

open starter 001. location: the streets of Grimmbrook

On her way home from the hospital, Edith’s body worked on autopilot as she moved down the street. Fuck it, the pressure in her head was increasing which normally meant the migraine would creep in any moment now. So she came to a sudden halt in her footsteps to tuck a cigarette between her lips and decided to speak once she sensed a pair of eyes on her. “Not my blood,” was all she absent-mindedly offered– not the best explanation there was but her exhaustion prevented her from providing some better reason as to why there was blood on her clothes. It was late. Or was it early? Edith couldn’t tell exactly as she rummaged through her bag looking for a lighter, but Grimmbrook with its empty and quiet streets briefly captured her attention. And honestly? A ghost of a smirk curled her lips at the irony of how peaceful Grimmbrook seemed. “Calm before the storm, isn’t it.”

The monotony that has become his life starting to get to him to the point where he has been leaving his house late at night towards downtown. He’d park his car somewhere - anywhere, and they he’d get out and stroll around shops. Sometimes he’d go inside kiosks to get a bottle of water or a magazine. Sometimes he wished he’d get mugged. That some generic guy wearing a balaclava would jump him with a gun or a knife and threaten to hurt him if he didn’t hand over his wallet. You know, something exciting. There’s a fog, and that’s a weird phenomena. Yet it’s not really affecting him so his life still remains as boring as ever. He’s standing outside one of these kiosks eyeing the new issue of The Grimm when he hears a voice directed to him.  ❛ Excuse me? ❜ He asks, confused. It’s then that he takes notice of her outfit and the specks of blood that decorated it.  ❛ If it’s not yours then - whose is it? And should I be worried? ❜

Her name is Paula Jones and she wants to be an actress. At least that is what she told him earlier that night at the bar before they got here. She just wouldn’t shut up about it. An hour or so later and Caleb was getting dressed and leaving her passed out on the bed after too much champagne. She had given him her phone number, which he still has in his pocket and one he will be discarding soon. Paula is hot but not really actress material. He checks his watch as he waits for the elevator which takes longer than usual.  This should have been a sign that he should have taken the stairs. Just as he pressed the button for the ground floor, he heard someone calling out. “Hold up! I need to get in.” A woman is running in the direction of the elevator. Caleb knows what he’s expected to do. He should press on the button to hold the elevator open and wait for her to join him. That is the polite thing to do. What he ends up doing is pressing on the button to close the elevator and, when it doesn’t close straight away, he hits it a few more times for good measure. Nothing, she makes it in. Fuck. He really dislikes sharing a small space with someone else, especially when he’s in a bit of a hurry to leave. Not that he cares much about getting caught at the Sherwood at these odd hours, at least not really. He only cares in a superficial level.  ❛ Hi.❜ He acknowledges her as she gets in and the elevator doors close with a loud beep.  ❛ Which floor? ❜ @historyofsophia​

It was true that Casper had made sure he was especially well presented that evening. Whilst he never stepped out of the house without some kind of designer label on his back, he often felt a specific need to go out of his way to outdress his companion. To most, the response would likely be that they both looked as nice as each other, but that didn’t stop Casper from preening himself for longer than he would care to admit before one of their meetings, and from analysing every inch of the other from his hair to the soles of his shoes. Perhaps it was a bit obsessive, but Casper prided himself on always feeling like he had an unparalleled advantage over anyone he spoke with, and so having to spend time with someone like Caleb who seemed to match that mindset was a rivalry he couldn’t escape. 

Whilst the questions Caleb asked would seem harmless on the surface, there was a part of Casper that felt the need to keep a lot of the details to himself. Whilst it would be nice to brag about his relationship and how he did, in fact, think his girlfriend was one to last, he knew that none of the details would particularly interest his company. Their back and forth of pretending to care about each others’ lives was commonplace, but the specifics of Isabel weren’t something he felt deserved that kind of aloof treatment. “You know me, I’ve got too many irons in the fire to think about that kind of thing at the moment,” Casper replied simply, before changing the subject to Caleb’s own relationship, “When did you know your’s was? I can’t see it being easy to convince you to get tied down.” 

Say what you want about Casper Du Pont but the man knows his suits. Probably the one positive thing he could say about the man. He’s one of the very few people who knew the truth behind the Candy House. As a client, he has been briefed and has signed a disclosure agreement that prevents him from spilling out the things he knows. Not that a piece of paper would do much to stop him if he chose to open his big fat mouth nut Casper is a smart man who is very much aware of the risk he’d be taking. Why would he risk his own reputation just to expose a prostitution ring that he has been a client of for years? That would be reckless and stupid. One of the girls Casper fancies is no other than Aurora. And while any other man would feel some type of jealousy over the thought of his so called friend fucking his wife, Caleb remains unaffected. After all, it had been his idea to get her working and send her of to Casper in the first place. Caleb clears his throat, letting the strong burning taste of the alcohol wash down his throat.  ❛ Oh, I know you. And of your irons. ❜ He was not going to specify but Casper knew who he was talking about. ❛ I guess you just know. I really didn’t need much convincing, I wanted a wife. You should try it, it’s good for business. Not so good for your patience though, that takes a toll. ❜

It wasn’t the most ridiculous demand in the world, to expect Gio to keep up his end of the bargain without screwing the other male over. “Yes, that is perfectly reasonable. I’ll get started on it right away and you’ll have your system set up and ready for operation by next week.” Already he was organizing things in his head, compiling a mental list of all the pieces of equipment he would need to really get the job done correctly. Getting the materials wouldn’t be difficult. For those items that he couldn’t get some known sources, he would simply obtain through less savory means and erase his virtual tracks in the process – easy. “I am somewhat curious as to what you are establishing here, though I have this unsettling feeling that if you were to tell me, it would put me in a more uncomfortable position than I usually am in during these jobs. So, I will curb my curiosity. I appreciate your time, Mr. Myers.”

Gio seems like a good kid. Smart, resourceful, greedy, morally grey. It’s no wonder that he has made it this far in life. And the fact that he still has his limbs after working for Farishka says a lot about his discretion.  ❛ Great, then I guess we’re done here. At least for today.❜  Curiosity is a deadly thing to have. Some people did lose their lives because they were unable to stop themselves from finding out the truth about something. Gio is very straightforward in telling him that he is curious about the deal but that he is also aware that knowing more about it would only place him in a dangerous spot. A spot he definitely does not want to be in.  ❛ It’s a smart to follow your gut. You don’t want to end up like the cat, right? ❜   He smiles, offers him his hand to shake and seal the deal.  ❛ And I appreciate yours. One of my people will be in touch with you to arrange your payment later this afternoon. ❜

Carrie: I came looking for you but met your wife instead.

Carrie: I guess she believed I was someone searching to buy rather than someone coming to see my own possessions which, if you ask me, makes it worse.

Carrie: I'd find a way to fix that mouth of hers, if I were you.

Caleb: So what exactly are you worried about?

Carrie: Does your wife always run her mouth to everyone she sees?

Carrie: Perhaps I should buy her a muffle or shock collar for Christmas? I've paid you a great sum to handle my girls but if your wife is an example of your work, then perhaps it's time we re-think this deal of ours.

“it used to matter to alex. getting called alex was such a victory for her, in a way that you could never understand. because you don’t know shit about our family. or about who she is.” quinn snaps, her temper hitting the surface in a way that she’s uncomfortable with. confrontation used to make her skin itch, she used to cower like her mother. but nobody was going to make her feel like that again, least of all someone who didn’t even know her. he brings up their father, and how quinn failed her sister and she wants to hit him. she wants to tear his fucking face off, because how dare he. how dare he talk about russell. her hands are tight around the champagne bottle as she takes another drink. that’s always the solution right? angry, take a drink. scared, take a drink. sad, take a drink. she’ll probably never escape the pattern now. she thinks of giving him a grand speech, of listing all the things she tried to do to protect alex. to lament her own struggles, but she’s looking at him and all she sees is another one of russells slimey friends laughing in her face. another man in the long line of men who’ve made the falwell girls lives shit. “think what you want about the past, i really don’t give a shit. but i’m going to find out why you’re as shit as every other man in my life and why my sister is acting weird. and then we’re going to get as far away from this shithole as possible, and soon i won’t even remember your name. toodles,” she turns on her heel ready to get as hammered as possible in the hope that his words won’t come bubbling towards the surface later tonight.

Ever tried having a conversation with a blow up doll? It’s useless. They just sit there looking fuckable but they will never understand you. Quinn is stupid. Probably more so than her sister which is saying a lot. So why bother trying to get through someone who is clearly unable to rub two brain cells together? Caleb watches as she drinks then tells him what she wants to tell him. How he doesn’t understand. There is a part of her that wants to prove her wrong. Show her just how much he understands and point out that it was this understanding that made him capable of twisting Rory’s mind. Well, that and the power of his penis. ❛ Good luck.❜ He finally says while she turns and walks away. Little does she know that her outburst is only pushing him to do something that would guarantee that his name would be something she’d have nightmares of. THE END

“If you’d like,” she shrugged, pouring the whisky with efficiency before turning around to stash it back behind the bar, where it would likely sit until the next time someone asked for it specifically. “I usually only remember the orders of people that make an impression.”

She grinned, then, and slid the drink, on top of a napkin, across the bar to him. “Glad to see you’re in better spirits than the last time we crossed paths,” she admired, resting an idle hand on her hip. She’d remembered him clearly not because of what she assumed to be his expensive clothing or watch, or the way he stuck out in such a setting, but instead by the look on his face when he’d been mid-panic attack, the hollow in his eyes, the raggedness of his breath. It wasn’t something she’d enjoyed witnessing, and she was genuinely relieved that he was eager to play it down, though still slightly worried it’d happened in the first place. “How are you?”

Caleb Myers is a perfect man. He has perfect shiny hair, a perfect fit body, a perfect sculpted face, a perfect sense of fashion, a perfect home, work ethic, resolve, career, facade, drugs, amount of money, intent to kill, number of victims--- Yes, he is quite the beauty. In looks and in life. There's nothing he cannot do. There's nothing he cannot achieve. Or at least that's what he likes to tell himself at night, when he's laying in bed, eyes wide as flashes of images invade his brain and his eyes, and he wonders, if he dies, will this all end? And then in the morning he happily works through his beauty regimen, ignoring the horrors that he’s had a hand on because in the end they don’t matter. People don’t need to see past the shiny hair and the fit body and the sculpted face. They really don’t want to see what hides beneath the facade. Ida definitely doesn’t that because the truth of what really happened to Kate would break her. Sometimes it’s easier not to know and imagine the worst because her worst is probably less brutal than what he actually did to her.  ❛ You’re going to make me blush, Ida. And I don’t think red is my color. ❜ And yet it looks so good when hes caked in it.  ❛ I was having a bad day the last time you saw me. Sibling drama. ❜ He smiles, takes a drink.  ❛ There’s still some drama but I’m working on it.❜  A pause, he clears his throat.  ❛ Do you have any siblings? Sometimes they can really drive off the wall. ❜

Maggie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something she’d absolutely regret when it ended up losing Marty a client. She was at work, she couldn’t just show him up for mild sexism. It was a gym after all most of the clients underestimated her for at least the first two or three runs through. Giving him a tight smile she walked them over to where the exercise balls sat.

“Oh?” She asked, directing him towards one of the full-sized balls. “Swiss ball crunches, let’s pick-up here. Same rep numbers. Then toe touch crunches. After that, we’ll move to the bosu ball and run you through some bicycle crunches. Did you think I’d not take this as seriously?”

There's this moment, this look she gives him. People, women in particular, are so damn sensitive. Here they are trying to be just as good as men but they can’t seem to handle any form of criticism or commentary without getting emotional. At least she keeps it under her breath and instead of telling him what she’s really thinking she simple gives him a questioning oh, followed by some directions that sounded more like commands. Must feel so good to be able to boss men and get a sense of equality, power, whatever.  ❛ I’m sorry, didn’t mean to offend. ❜ Really, he has the patience of a saint.  ❛ I just didn’t think you’d be tougher than Marty. You’re making me work a sweat and that hasn’t happened in some time. ❜ He takes another drink, wipes his forehead a little more and then moves towards the Swiss ball.  ❛ How long have you been doing this for, by the way? ❜

description of crush.

❛ Please.❜

 favourite book(s)

❛ The Great Gatsby or Lolita. ❜

what would you name your future kids?

❛ Mistake. ❜

what was your life like last year? ANSWERED

are you good at hiding your feelings?

❛ Sometimes the levels of disgust I have to deal with on a daily basis makes it difficult for me to hide my disappointment. ❜

5 things that make me happy

❛ A nice bottle of bourbon, a good fuck, Itallian suits, my hair, getting what I want. I’m all about the simple things.❜

❛ If someone is no longer in my life is because I no longer want them around, so there really is no reason to miss anyone. ❜

what was your life like last year?

❛ It wasn’t so different as it is now. A lot less weird though, that’s for sure ❜

favourite tv show(s)

❛ I don’t have time to watch tv. Sometimes I like to watch the History or the Discovery Channel, but very rarely. Have better things to do with my time. ❜

something i’m talented at

❛ The art of manipulation. ❜