#graveycrd

     ❝ Good enough ears to catch a twang in the first place but not enough to conjure up anything besides a wholly incorrect mockery? Darling, please. I might as well turn around and try and pass of an Aussie accent as your own, that’s how far off you are. ❞

     He was no stranger to drunken folk be it both because of his stint as a bartender decades before and just his normal hunting grounds of pubs, bars, and clubs. He tolerated them about as well as he tolerated sober strangers-—that was to say with impatience and overall poorly.  ❝ You asked what it is I do and I gave you an answer. I don’t see why you’re throwing such a drunken tantrum before a stranger you’ve just met. Quite unbecoming. ❞

     The man wasn’t too far off, in truth. It was a very robotic sort of living that Clark committed himself to. A line of work that didn’t leave much room for open feeling, where logic would get you further than those that let emotions (be they noble or rotten) lead them.  

❛  what the hell just happened there ?  ❜ || @graveycrd

“Look, buddy, if you let us do our job we’ll figure that out.” A bit harsh, but he’s pretty done with the weight of the nosy whatsits that can’t give them a bit of breathing room to collect the necessities. Damn rubberneckers and all the scents and sounds they bring along…

Damn, Manny was sure this was giving him a headache.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I could tell,” he responded with a snort.

Although Jack couldn’t quite place where they were, he could feel down to his very being that there was something not right about neither the place nor their circumstances. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, noticing that there was no cell service. That was very strange for this part of London. (London in general, really).

@graveycrd​ asked: 😈: Our muses having fun with a oujia board

Halloween RP Meme II accepting II

It’s a long shot, but every other source has been tapped. Every family member, manipulated and used to the point of no return. He’s tried healers, and online therapists and forums, he’s even tried consulting a homeless man who had rat-bones as dice to try and drum up some kind of answer, some kind of help. Someone knew someone knew someone that gave a name and a number and an address. After stealing some things, pawning and trading to get some cash, Luke had made his way to a location where a man who was raised by ghosts apparently hung out sometimes. 

Raised by ghosts... 

It’s not a crowded place, a speakeasy of sorts with patrons who stare a little long at Luke as he enters, looking drenched and dirty like a street dog seeking cover from the summer storms in LA in a restaurant. He quivers a little, feeling the shakes, taking almost awkward steps towards the bar. Even the bartender looks at him funny, like he’s entered the wrong place. “I’m uhh. I’m looking for n-.. Nobody?” 

Oh, great; the look he receives says it all, doesn’t it? Luke has to chuckle, a little breathless and hopeless, the light in his eyes already fading and practically dead and gone as he shakes his head. He tries again, “guy called Nobody Owens or-or-or something. He’s, uh, I need to talk to him about.. his.. line of work or whatever, have you seen him?” 

      There wasn’t anything WRONG with his touch, and wasn’t that just the problem. his touch was TOO sweet, TOO soft, TOO gentle; too GOOD for a creature like herself. He wanted to FIX things, but more than ever she was convinced Earth had become her Hell, and suffering her ultimate fate. She curled away from every solution he offered, from his words and from his touch and from his oh so soft heart.

      How many times had she broken that heart, and why wouldn’t he just HATE her like she deserved?