ābe real with me here...ā cat trailed off, holding up her pear phone, the screen displaying a dangerous looking adult device.Ā ā...why do people make these?ā

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ābe real with me here...ā cat trailed off, holding up her pear phone, the screen displaying a dangerous looking adult device.Ā ā...why do people make these?ā

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starter: open // @dualitynews muse: ransom drysdale + openĀ
Smoke billows from Ransomās lips. Itās a dark evening, the street lights seemingly more dim due to the ever creeping frost of December. Thereās a thump, thump, thump behind him that feels like itās drilling into his skull. Far too many floors up thereās a party that rages on without him, though the headache doesnāt dissipate. The idea that heās getting too old of this type of shit just serves to irritate him. Itās a requirement in this life to keep up appearances, if he wants that pretty penny then heās got to be pretty until heās old and gray. Ransom takes another long drag of his cigarette in irritation before he notices a figure in his peripheral vision.Ā āI hope youāre not here to ask to bum a cigarette off me,Ā ācause Iām not all that into sharing.ā He tells the stranger, being a bit of a dick by blowing smoke directly at them.
āā ā * . Ā ā MIHAEL KEEHLāS EYES - OR RATHER , MELLOāS - always have held a certain fireĀ in them that alludes to a constant drive , never-ending passion - the infinite fuel of his inner machine that makes it so he will never lack enough to keep going . and even so now , when that fireās dimmed with dark circles under the eyes and a strangely quiet air ( because in truth , melloās sharp tongue never holds itself back , even if he isnāt the biggest chatterbox ) , it burns - more so though in the forms of embersĀ than scorching flames . heās not killedĀ , but one can tell heās tired , hoping that the biker sunglasses over darkened hues will cover up the evidence his sleep scheduleās been abnormal . of course , it always hasĀ , but he at least tries to take care of himself in snippets . but then he seems to BETRAY himself , biting on a freshly unwrapped chocolate bar and cracking his fingerless gloves knuckles , rolling up the sleeves of a leather jacket & quipping ,Ā ā i havenāt slept in thirty-sixĀ hours . iām at that stage where iām starting to taste colors & shit . ā he lifts the chocolate bar as he bites off a chunk , adding ,Ā ā this ??Ā pink vibes .Ā ā a long pause , he takes a long sigh , lifting up the orange-tinted sunglasses and looking his company in the eye . ā how bad do i look - how easyĀ is it to tell that iām fucking exhausted . cāmon , be honest with me .Ā ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā šŗšÆš¬ š«š¶š¬šŗšµ'š» š²šµš¶š¾ š¾šÆšØš»'šŗ š®š¶š°šµš® šØš¹š¶š¼šµš« šÆš¬š¹ š©š¼š» šŗšÆš¬ šš¬š¬š³šŗ š³š°š²š¬ šŗšÆš¬'šŗ š³š¶šŗš°šµš® šÆš¬š¹ š“š°šµš« ------ itās like she doesnāt have any control of herself. sheās been unraveling lately, small doses liquor sips from her flask. she never wanted to be in this predicament, someone telling her what she should or not do. ā I AM FINE ! ā she snapped at the other ā i donāt get it why everyone thinks that something is wrong. ā she confesses with a sigh escaping her lips ā i donāt need you to walk around eggshells , i am not a child. ā
           aerith gainsborough .   ⬠  open starter . setting  : the misting corner of bud naked , fingers squeezing lily petals .
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā *Ā Ā ā -Ā Ā WITHĀ HERĀ FINGERSĀ CAREFULLYĀ brushingĀ theĀ gentle ,Ā sweetĀ fleshĀ ofĀ theĀ buddingĀ liliesĀ thatĀ hadĀ justĀ beenĀ wateredĀ ;Ā aerithĀ feltĀ aĀ smileĀ playĀ upĀ herĀ stainedĀ ,Ā fullĀ lips .Ā sheĀ couldĀ neverĀ EXPLAINĀ it ,Ā butĀ simplyĀ beingĀ aroundĀ theĀ massesĀ ofĀ flowersĀ (Ā allĀ atĀ herĀ disposalĀ )Ā wasĀ oneĀ ofĀ theĀ onlyĀ thingsĀ inĀ herĀ lifeĀ thatĀ couldĀ getĀ herĀ toĀ smileĀ withoutĀ trying .Ā listeningĀ toĀ theĀ flowersĀ asĀ theyĀ spokeĀ toĀ her ,Ā remindingĀ herĀ thatĀ atĀ oneĀ pointĀ theyĀ hadĀ somethingĀ importantĀ toĀ tellĀ her .Ā somethingĀ theyĀ couldnātĀ sayĀ quiteĀ yet .Ā onlyĀ aĀ questionĀ ofĀ whatĀ theyĀ saidĀ toĀ followĀ ;Ā aerithĀ answeringĀ withĀ aĀ lie :Ā GOODĀ WORKĀ TODAY ,Ā GUYS .
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā ā -Ā Ā Ā THEĀ SMALL ,Ā PIXIE - LIKEĀ twinklingĀ ofĀ theĀ bellsĀ madeĀ aerithĀ spinĀ toĀ lookĀ atĀ theĀ guestĀ whoĀ inhaledĀ theĀ floralĀ scentĀ thatĀ coatedĀ theĀ shop .Ā withĀ chocolateĀ tressesĀ thatĀ framedĀ herĀ face ,Ā aĀ fullĀ smileĀ BROKEĀ theĀ conversationĀ withĀ herĀ liliesĀ ;Ā handsĀ claspedĀ asĀ sheĀ hoppedĀ towardĀ door .Ā Ā āĀ Ā soĀ !Ā Ā Ā āĀ Ā aerithĀ grinned ,Ā stoppingĀ herĀ customerĀ inĀ theirĀ tracks ,Ā Ā Ā āĀ Ā whatāsĀ yourĀ FAVORITEĀ flowerĀ ?Ā Ā āĀ Ā Ā

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{open starter for Alessa}
āshit.ā
Alessa felt a sudden dread hit her, the shadder brush in her hand having gathered enough paint at its tip to splash some across the ground as she stepped back. Her eyes flickered over the corners of the canvas, from left to right, scanning andĀ searching for any imperfections, for that one mistake that would send a bottle of paint straight towards it.Ā
The painting had taken the majority of two weeks. Whenever the sun was out shinning on the streets ofĀ ALUCARD, you could find an apron clad brunette carrying about an easel and an array of jarred items. Small leaves along the Pennsylvania roads, the rust that gathered along a building that had stood more than just the test of time, she once swore she could catch the morning fog that passed through too, all for the sake of authenticity.Ā
Hell, Alessa was her own walking Harvard collection of color. She thrived off those perfect colors, ones people could identify with, that one shade of blue that could get one to say,Ā āHey, that reminds me of something...ā
She realized, only now really, that in her sudden excitement to call her project done, that she had something was off. No matter how long she stood there, she couldnāt catch it; a block of buildings in town a florescent green, rather than a barnyard red.
Running a hand through her hair, she let out a sigh, splatters and mixtures of a corner store she had shaded earlier covering her arm and now cheek. She could hear steps behind her, and rather be her own critic, chose to get another eye on the case.
āExcuse me,ā She pipped up, wiping her hand across her apron.Ā āDo you think I could get a second opinion on this?āĀ
It was a beautiful day outside and after not being able to see much of anything besides death and violence the last three years, he was appreciative of every little thing he could get his hands on, including taking the dog for a walk. As a guy that tried his best to keep his emotions in check, there was no hiding the way he cared about his dog. They donāt call him manās best friend for nothing. He had planned on taking both his daughter and Miracle and give Laurel a break but she insisted she could handle it, just like she always does. He was sure she was just being her sweet self and not wanting to feel like she was burdening him but heĀ wasnāt about to undermine her ability to handle things around the house. Besides, him and the boy could use a little bit of quality time.Ā
As he walked him along the grass, the dog sniffed out a young woman jogging nearby, Dean quickly pulled him back.Ā āOh no, you donāt, mama wonāt approve of you taking her home, boy.ā He teasingly scolded, his eyes catching a glimpse of an ice cream vendor down the way,Ā ābut I do know something she WILL approve of.ā Grinning widely, he made his way to the vendor, ordering a vanilla ice cream cone and one chocolate dipped cone. He didnāt know where in any any century would it be a good idea to try to walk a dog while both hands are pre occupied which is exactly why he stopped off at a nearby bench, instantly licking at the ice cream cone, moving his hand down so the dog could take his own taste,Ā āYeah, pretty good, huh?ā He asked with a smile, petting at the top of his head, before taking a lick of his own when suddenly a noise startled the dog and he began to run off.Ā āMiracle, no!ā He called out, getting up from the bench,Ā āson of a bitch,ā he muttered under his breath when he realized both of his hands were still occupied with the ice cream, attempting to shove them off on the nearest person,Ā āHere, hold these,ā he commanded before running off in attempt to retrieve the escaped pet.Ā
VICTOR STONE Ā & Ā YOUR CHARACTER,Ā @everyoneā. location: Ā midtown.
VICTORāS BEEN HAVING WEIRD VISIONS LATELY, Ā of a city he doesnāt recognise. Ā but the visions are so vivid, Ā that he has no idea where they're coming from, Ā if the images are real or not. Ā it doesn't help that his body has been aching more and more lately; Ā phantom pain from the accident, Ā or at least that's what he keeps telling himself. Ā it doesnāt help, Ā really doesnāt, Ā not when some of these visions are too real to be fake, Ā when he's more machine than human in his visions.
HE HAD TO GO ON LEAVE FROM WORK JUST TO COPE, Ā especially after abusing his body, Ā going days without sleep or food. Ā he hadn't been this bad since the accident Ā - Ā he'd managed to recover after a while, Ā but it was as if the circus had brought all of that back again. Ā he felt mildly guilty for going on break, Ā knowing his co-workers also weren't doing great. Ā so, Ā after finishing all the errands heās had to run and bringing boxes of pizzas as his apology gift to his coworkers, Ā heās just on his way to the mechanic shop when he bumps into a figure.Ā the boxes fall to the ground, Ā and vic winces.Ā oops.
HEāS ACTUALLY ADMITTEDLY SPEECHLESS for a momentĀ before finally, Ā ā well,Ā shit. Ā itās a good thing dominos has carryout insurance, Ā i guess.Ā ā