#o.threads

"You. Small boy." It's barked, as he looms over Kirby's shoulder. "Someone took some of my clothes from my room. Are they in your laundry to be washed? They're not supposed to go in the washing machine, they'll immediately disintegrate, the jeans alone are mostly dental floss." October looks weird without his usual crust-punk thing. Stood here in gym shorts and a tee shirt emblazoned with smiling koalas and 'Please Don't Do Ketamine Off The Koala Kare Changing Station', he looks almost normal, if not for the fact he's still nearly seven feet tall and staring at Kirby like they're a cut of meat. "Oh. Grown adult. From the back you look like a terribly malnourished little boy. My question stands." He points. "Did somebody jack my pants and put them in the community laundry because they'll get more paint and god knows what on other clothes than they'll get clean at all."

@ghostsbrokenbyfairytales

"You wanna get outta my way, little fella, or am I gonna hafta move you myself?" The question is playful, for now, the man asking stood with broad arms wrapped in bandage and barb wire crossed across his chest- bare and muscled, his costume doesn't communicate particularly well this way, distressed apron slung low on his waist, headpiece and sword abandoned. "Been standin' there slack-jawed staring at a pumpkin for 20 minutes- At first I was just gonna shove you out of the way but then I was curious to see exactly how long a little happy face on a gourd was gonna keep your fuckin attention- it was too long. Move."

@endlessreruns

It's quite the difference from his boisterous arrival one morning a few weeks ago. With the bulk of his personal belongings sold off to the town or stored elsewhere to keep space in the commune, it's almost impressive October still looks so. Out of place, a towering thing made of patches, pins, and hanging jewelry. He lights up a cigarette, stepping from the porch of the Parsons house- intentions to swing by the moving van he'd arrived in- to take stock of the things he'd still not managed to pass on to somebody with use for them- and the things he'd been smart enough not to tell that Sunflower woman he had with him. He pulls the chain from the hanging portion of his pants, making the short walk to where he'd been told to park the van and opening the back door- Stacks of boxes and supplies hidden artfully behind stupid, rich people furniture.

He's rifling around for a hit to sell to that Mercy boy at the oddities shop in return for keeping some of his more 'treasured' belongings out of the hands of the town proper, when he hears footsteps in the leaves outside. "Mm, six paces back, sugar, I'm armed and dangerous." He warns, hidden before straightening to his full size. "You lookin' for something in particular, baby, or are you after little old me? I don't do autographs no more."

"Well well, if it isn't Hollywood." It's kinda hard to take the jovial greeting as anything other than something bordering on 'light threat' as October's hefting an axe from hand to hand in the side yard of the Listeners' House- especially when he seems to have caught Jordan's approach without even turning around. "What's the occasion then, killer? If you're here for a working over, I'm afraid I'm a little busy." He steps back, and with one violent swing, cleaves the log in front of himself in two, tearing the hatchet head back out of the stump and placing another. "You could also put a little work in outside of being pretty, if you were so inclined, but who am I to give any orders, mm?" To October's credit, the standoffish nature was, at it's core, his nature, and Jordan had never taken issue with it, rough-edged and dangerous to... anyone fool enough to enter his orbit, after all.

"Quite the hit at that whole speed-dating thing, weren't ya, handsome? Don't think I didn't know what you were up to. You're lucky it's a game I like playing." Another swift swing of the axe, another splitting of wood. "Get over here and set me up again."

@ghostsbrokenbyfairytales

"There she is, the birthday girl- Yes, yes, before we go ragging on me, I am late, but I am not a dollar short." October can count on exactly one hand the number of people he's fond of that he didn't have a part in fathering, but resolutely among them, for quite some time now, was certainly Tiffany Royale. Maybe it was a recognition of artistry, maybe it was a knowledge that despite it all, she was just as ego-driven and broken as he was- or, just maybe, October's fondness was best earned with a good lay and then leaving him the fuck alone until he got bored again- whatever the reason, he'd had a noted soft spot for Tiffany for some time, enough, at the very least, that he'd remembered her birthday- holding up a bottle of Jack Daniels retrieved from his U-Haul with a smirk.

"Drink responsibly, if your beer goggles make you hook up with a loser, I'm not the guy you're going to blame for it, you know the drill, baby." He presses the bottle into her grasp. "Now, why're you lookin' like somebody killed your pet this close to your birthday, doll? Anything I can punch to make it better?"

@lxvenderhxzehv

It's unclear which is weirder, to see October out of his usual heavy punk garb or stage jacket in favor of a black tank top and clearly hand-cut shorts in an attempt to at least look like he knows it's hot outside, or if it's more offputting that he seems to be in a relatively good mood. In fact, instead of his usual abject scowling, he seems almost plucky and jovial, a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, a beer in hand and conversing with one of the regular hangers-on around the little... collective, that circles Quinn. His dogs seemed to have made an appearance as well, and it is, in fact, Glory who seems to have taken pointed interest in another commune-dweller, having crept off now sniffing nervously at the pants leg of a stranger- who happened to be holding food.

"Glory." a voice rumbles flatly, October arching a brow as the dog sheepishly wags his tail and sits down- long nose still fully extended toward Remi's thigh. "Ah, I'm sorry about him, thinks with 'is stomach more than that walnut rattlin' about in there he calls a brain. Hope he didn't bother you too bad."

@cryptidkeepp

"Signed onto this to crack skulls and teach Quinn the ropes, and now I'm babysitting Hollywood's Mistake and any other fuckin' fool they decide to let loiter around." He's muttering to himself, smoking a cigarette outside the Parson house. He'll go for a walk, later, under the stars and moon, and relish in the cooler night air. In the loneliness that comes from wandering alongside fellow monsters. He's still cloaked in heavy fur, despite the heat, and the younger members of the Commune running around in the sprinklers to try and beat the sun- his dogs sit nearby, Glory panting around a ball and Gore staring pointedly, ever-vigilant at her master's side. He's about to keep moving, maybe take a few hours to himself at his U-Haul, still bogged down with belongings and locked tight- when he glances up at the sound of the screen door rattling open.

He's about to say something disparaging, really, but Gore starts braying instead, hackles raised. "Heh, sounds like the old girl's made her opinion of you known there, Jordan." He chuckles, tapping ash off his cigarette. "Gore. Hush." The dog quiets, seating herself silently again- odd stare leveled at the other man now. "They finally decide you were done doing your chores there, handsome? Gonna let you come outside an' play in the sprinklers?"

@ghostsbrokenbyfairytales

"No, what I think is I'm going to have to have a lengthy talk with Raziel and Quinn about what my duties are here, because babysitting was not among them- now shut. the fuck up. for thirty seconds." October is... more agitated than usual, by the look of him, the wadded remains of a missing person's poster being used as a makeshift torch to spark his cigarette and burn stray strings from his threadbare sweater. "Sometimes, kid, the most appealing thing you can do with your mouth is absolutely fuckin' nothing, and that's gonna be most of the time, while they got me watchin' your ass."

He sighs, as the flyer burns to cinders and a peal of smoke rolls from his nose. "Alright, it's been 30 seconds- impressive you managed to be quiet that long. They really paid you to be this insufferable 'fore you ended up in here?" He's not even really being mean about it, leveling Hunter with a cold blue glare- it's just how he regards most people. "Have we fallen so far from the echelons of celebrity?"

@oxtofmydcpth