#replies.

casimir lingered just off to the side of the happily ever after potions stall, a glass vial twirling lazily between his fingers like he’d been doing it his whole life. the liquid inside shifted colors every few seconds soft gold to violet to something darker and his smile sharpened every time it changed. he watched the crowd more than the merchandise, eyes catching on anyone curious enough to get too close.

“you look like someone with good instincts,” he said smoothly, stepping into someone’s space just enough to be noticed. he held the vial out between them, tilting it so the light caught just right. “so tell me. what kind of position are you searching for” his grin widened, playful but edged.

       Think  so?  No,  by  now,  she  knew  so  —  even  if  there  was  still  much  yet  for  the  two  of  them  to  learn  about  each  other.  But  for  all  their  similarities,  there  were  also  various  differences  she  had  come  to  note  too  ;  to   (   unexpectedly   )  admire,  in  fact.  Despite  how  tumultuous  an  upbringing  as  he'd  had  —  and  she'd  seen  it,  felt  it  ;  the  pain,  the  sorrow,  the  grief,  the  betrayal  —  Zuma  still  held  his  chin  high.  He  still  offered  his  wing  as  a  safe  haven  for  the  down  and  out,  to  any  and  all  who  had  suffered  so  that  they  wouldn't  have  to  anymore.  At  least,  not  on  their  own. 

"kakashi likes to mess with you," hayate says fondly, though he can hardly think about kakashi when tenzo— yamato, now, he supposes, but they both know hayate will only call him that in public— is still standing so broad and bare faced before him. the fabric of the blues stretch taut over his biceps, and probably over his chest too, if hayate pulled down that pesky little zipper on his vest.

he doesn't, not yet, but he does step forward until he's close enough to catch the metal tab between his fingers. "yamato, huh? yamato-taichou, specifically. what do you think of that?"

option a: dungeons, dragons, and a vampire?

she hovered just outside the setup for the midnight dungeons and dragons one shot, arms crossed as she watched people gather around like it was some kind of ritual. mavis didn’t look like she belonged there... a bit too guarded, too shy, but she hadn’t walked away either. “so… we’re all just gonna sit around and pretend we’re pirates or something?” she asked, glancing at someone nearby with a faint smirk. her tone wasn’t mocking just curious, edged with something almost playful. “because i could be convinced.” a beat. “but if i’m doing this, i’m not playing anything lame.”

option b: a tattoo, maybe?

she stood just outside starlight tattoo + piercing, staring at the celestial flash sheet like she was trying to talk herself out of something she’d already decided on. the designs glimmered under soft light... stars, constellations, something that almost looked like it moved if you stared too long. mavis huffed a quiet breath, glancing sideways at whoever had stopped nearby. “don’t look at me like that,” she muttered, already defensive. “it’s just a tattoo.” her eyes flicked back to the sheet, lingering. “besides… could be worse decisions i’ve made down here tonight.”

note: this is a choose your own starter edition. reply to the thread of your choice. either state which starter in your reply or the tags!

"just a warm hug, hm? is that- i just mean . . . it's satisfyin' enough for you right?" can't help a few insecurities tug at her. "you know i wanna make sure you get somethin' outta' our hookups" glamorously called and she can be seen rubbing a hand over her face at frustration in her own 'class'.

" @hcrv3lles did it. "

open starter for anyone. location: the underland, near the locust fight club.

the neon signs of the undersland buzzed overhead, flickering pink and blue against the cracked brick buildings and rain-slick pavement. music spilled out of open bar doors, mixing with the smell of fried food and cigarette smoke, the whole street alive in that messy, electric way it always is. eric stood just beneath a broken streetlamp, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, watching the crowd like he was waiting for something bad to happen.

he spotted a familiar face across the street and felt something twist low in his chest, sharp and familiar. like they knew he wasn't meant to be there. for a second, he thought about turning around, letting the night carry him somewhere else. instead, he pushed off the wall and crossed toward you, boots splashing through shallow puddles. “didn’t think you hung out down here..."