Realistic or Modern Street Life | Skid Row, Los Angeles | Main

[Qwertycakes]

$treet Life

smog isn't blue, someone shoulda warned you

♡coded by uxie♡

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​

It's All Hallow's Eve on Skid Row--​

and if our smoggy industrial wasteland looks more apocalyptic than usual, it's just the spooky Halloween ambiance. So gather with your gang members for a pregame pint at Another Round, maybe hit up one of the many clubs and parties across Los Angeles. Or if you're really feeling yourself in that sexy costume, take a quick drive up the Hollywood Hills to crash the leaked location of producer Julian Arrington's mansion. Rumor has it there's an exclusive Halloween party going on tonight, full of deboucherous celebs, tons of free booze, and enough drugs to fuck up the entire state of California.

 

[CuChulainn]

Colm Healy

Colm took a heavy drag of the last remnants of his cigarette and flicked the end into a small metal bucket behind the table. He sat at one of the two small tables in the front of the pub, tucked in just far enough to not be a huge nuisance to those walking on the street.

The street was largely empty as he surveyed it from his small kingdom. He thought it was beautiful. I mean, it was a shithole, but a beautiful shithole. All its charms and quirks made it special. From the graffiti on the walls, to the buildings of weird shapes, sizes, and colours. It had character, even if that character was a bit grimy.

His phone vibrated on the table next to him. Grabbing his mug, and taking a gulp of tea he read the text.

“Hey Boss, we should probably go over the shift schedule for later, among other things,” the text from Saoirse, his bar manager said. “God I fucking hate halloween” Colm mumbled to himself. Although it meant great business at the bar he hated the mess and the chaos of it all. Not that he was guaranteed to be here for it.

Grabbing his mug and tipping the remainder of the liquid onto the footpath he got up and headed inside. The bar was empty, calm before the storm. Most of the staff would arrive soon and prepare for the night shift, but right now it was blissfully quiet.

He poked his head into the back office but Saorise wasn’t there. “Ah” he thought to himself, “other business”. He left the mug on the bar counter and went to the stairs tucked away at the back of the building.

Saoirse was in the small room they used together for working on “the business”, non bar related business.

“Alright,” Colm said. “What’s up?”

Saoirse looked at him and rolled her eyes. “Honestly you’d get nothing done if left to your own devices you know that?”

“Yes,” Colm replied curtly. “The benefits of being the boss is that I pay you to do the stuff I’m not bothered to do. Paid well I may add”

Saoirse's lips curled in a wry smile and she shook her head laughing.

“Alright then, you’ve gone over the finances?”

“Yep” Saoirse replied.

“Then I think we need to start moving on to the next phase of the plan. Everything is in place and the only thing stopping us now is uncertainty and a healthy bit of fear.”

“You might be afraid old man, I’m not”

“Old!” Colm spluttered, “Jesus I’m only four fucking years older than ya”

“You’re old in spirit, I think you were born old”

Colm laughed and shrugged his shoulders. “Can’t deny that”

“What we need is an in. Can’t just approach them and say ‘hey how would you feel about a not so optional, but friendly hostile takeover of your business’”

“Agreed.” Saoirse replied. She put her hands on her hips and looked at the board they had written down notes and pinned pictures to.

“You’ll need to go to that party tonight” she said.

“What party?”

“The one up at that weird fucking movie producers house, you know the douchebag looking guy who sometimes wanders around the neighbourhood like a ghoul”

“Ugh.” Colm grunted. The thought of having to go and pretend to give a shit about these pompous assholes made his skin crawl.

“And what if the pub ends up being the centre of activity tonight?”

Saoirse laughed. “This shithole? Yea people will come and start here maybe, but I promise you everyone important in this neighbourhood will end up there somehow. Anyway, I’ll text you and tell you to come back if that’s the case.”

“Fine” Colm replied, resigning himself to it. “I’m gonna head back down then if there’s nothing else”

“One more thing” Saoirse said, leaning behind the desk. “Hang this up outside”

Colm took the sheet and read it.

“Line cook and Bar staff wanted. Apply inside or text”

“More staff? Don’t we have enough?”

Saoirse again rolled her eyes.

“Honestly you’re fucking useless. We have one cook for our shitty menu, and he spends half his time high as a fucking kite. We’re short staffed every night when it gets busy in the bar. Unless you want to lose customers we need more staff”

Colm grunted and shook his head. “Fine but their salaries are coming out of yours”

“Fuck off” She said with a smile.

coded by Mister Glass​

 

[Qwertycakes]

MOOD: Chill

OUTFIT: faster pussycat kill kill

LOCATION: Another Round Irish Pub

basics

MENTIONS:

Richie purplecowdutch

Ren Gao

INT:

Colm CuChulainn

tags

tl;dr

Daisy Finnbar

Live fast, die young
Bad girls do it well

It was dusk on Halloween night as Daisy wandered the Skid Row streets, the usual smoggy air accosting her young lungs. The girl had stepped her combat boots out into the night without a clue where she was planning on going. She really just wanted to escape the apartment, without even telling her roommate she was leaving.

If she was being honest with herself, she'd admit she'd actually really wanted to stay with him, to hang out and laugh, maybe get into a bit of trouble like they used to. Just her and Richie against the world, best friends and maybe even more than friends, if she was really being honest. Too bad she couldn't make him happy anymore; she'd lost that ability a long time ago, it seemed.

The reality was he'd no doubt just be laying around the apartment all night as usual, high off his ass. And if Richie actually could be dragged outside, it'd probably end in some dumb scheme to meet up with the guy that broke him like this in the first place, Ren, his ex…whatever those two had going on. Neither option was anything Daisy felt like wasting her night on, especially a night as potentially fun and debaucherous as Halloween.

Her first thought was popping into Another Round, her favorite local dive. It was a chill, gang-friendly bar, but she mainly frequent it because she liked the workers...especially Colm Healy, the hot older guy who owned it. And since she lived just around the corner, Daisy decided to slink in as she was passing by. It was still rather early, and she was hoping to catch Colm there and have a chance to hassle him before he'd set off on whatever shady business he was often getting up to these days.

The place was dead as she wandered inside, Colm not even posted up behind the bar yet. Eventually, she spotted the handsome Irishman as she wandered further in, standing by the back office chatting with someone inside.

Daisy smirked at the sight, beginning her stealthy approach. She crept up behind Colm as quietly as possible, trying to keep her bell from jingling as it hung gingerly from a ruffled black collar round her neck. Then leaned against him to poke her head over his shoulder, peeking into the office from behind a cheap pleather cat mask.

"Gimme all your money," Daisy playfully commanded Saoirse, holding her pointer finger and thumb in the shape of a gun pointed directly at Colm's temple. "Or the Mick gets it."

The brunette snickered as she stepped back to free her hostage. Quickly getting around him, she once again peeped into the office to offer Saoirse a friendly greeting. "Hello, Beautiful," Daisy chirped, blowing a kiss to the pretty redhead before turning to regard Colm. "Hey, Doofus. Where's your costume?" Hazel eyes flickered over the man's attractive form, crossing her arms in mock annoyance. "What, there's no Halloween in Leprechaun Land?"

"Soooo," Her gaze danced briefly over the empty saloon. "Since I'm your only customer, do I get a free drink?" She teased, taking it upon herself to slip behind the bar so she could ogle the wonderful rows of delicious top shelf liquor the pub had on display.

code by valen t.

 

[Gao]

HALLOWEEN.

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船井 蓮

FUNAI REN

ㅎㅎ

MOOD

I DESERVE A ROLEX

OUTFIT

NOT FESTIVE

LOCATION

OUTSIDE JULIAN'S MANSION

MENTIONS

BASHI, JED, ADRIANA, RICHIE

INTERACTS

qunqun TheVoidQueen -ferret- purplecowdutch

HEART SHAPED BOX — DEAD S.

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THE KLEPTO.

Ancient and vicious, luscious as dark velvet. It blooms in you, a poppy made of ink.

OCTOBER 31ST.

Some think the universe will end in a whisper, an arctic fog that blankets and consumes the bleached ruins of bones and phantom echoes of birdsong. That it may split open the sky in all its fossil grey canopy and let time ache in its afterglow.

And some think the universe will end in sanguinary dregs, in breaking tide that flays flesh from their core of opal ossein, in a cleaving of rust and specks of copper, in a drench of lighter fluid that feathers with flame.

Against all belief, the universe actually ends in two little words.

“I’m cold.”

One of several complaints to leave Ren’s mouth this Halloween night; his feet hurt, he’s hungry, it’s too far, it’s too dark, there might be murderers, are we there yet, what about now, he’s still cold, can he have your coat, he won’t steal it (lying), are there ghosts.

How ironic that the whiny man had willingly joined this excursion and was now facing the consequences of his own greedy self interest.

After the paranoid prattle of the day's events it would have been so easy to go about his night in solitude, to shuffle past his roommates and sequester himself in his bedroom for the rest of Halloween. Yet upon passing did sugar spun words cater his attention, and for a swell of a moment he is elsewhere, deaf to none but the saccharine syllables shared between flatmates.

Rich people.

Oh? Curiosity unravels between ribs like unkempt ribbon, and almost every bone in his body splinters at the inhumane manner of his turn.

Why hello.

Was Ren above the temptations of a little treat? A special little trinket? An Oystersteel 41 Rolex with domed bezel and light diffusion?

But of course, Ren had not heard this topic (that would imply eavesdropping, and he would never do that), and of course, he was only approaching his buddies out of whole-hearted intent to say hello (and not a bubbling epicentre of greed).

“As roommates,” — he is across the room in few strides, crawling over the side of the couch like an inky wraith to intrude their conversation — “who love each other very much,” — and sighed melodramatically as he lazed over the laps of Bashi and Jedidiah; a heir of Diosynus ready to be handfed grapes — “I think we should be spending more quality time together.”

And now he was stuck outside at night, periphery scorched by sinewy branches and wet ochre leaf as he fought through dense bushes. A clamour of tangled limbs and struggling to follow the group’s ascension towards the back of the mansion where they planned to scale over the fence and act like they always belonged there, ire was quick to consume the klepto at every hair snag and sudden step on his foot.

A shrill yelp of pain turned to the promise of what would’ve been an offended glare if Ren could see anything in this dark. For the stretch of a moment he was silent.

“Hey pal.” A hive of sweetness strays not far from the sting. “Step on me again with those fat little trotters and see what happens.” Blind threat to whatever unfortunate individual was in his orbit, perhaps all of the ragtag team, the New Yorker in all his brash glory was feeling tetchier than usual.

Fallen to paranoia as easily as a deer in scare, he’d always been certain Halloween was cursed. A once leather languid countenance whittled to serrated nerves, he’d spent the day flinching away from noises, creepy costumes, texts from Richie—

Texts from Richie.

He should’ve known it was not a good idea to reply— part of him did know, willingly chose not to heed it. For when sulking back to nostalgic streets, the people that inhabit them come in tandem. It seemed like a wiser idea to engage lest they run into each other under different circumstances, and somehow through their cat and mouse provocation, Ren thought it okay to invite the old flame.

If this were anyone else from the past lighting up his phone, he would’ve blocked the number and tossed it aside. But there was always capricity when it came to Richie, a pliant and forgiving quality he’d never quite offered to anybody else. Volatile trajectories that clashed like fleeting comets, they’d splash ruby against starless nebulae only to orbit back in a masochistic cycle of wicked serendipity; Ren had almost forgotten this pattern.

Almost, not quite.

Years spent grasping at frayed edges of their cultivated friendship— relationship? What difference did it make, for things always unravelled in wild succession no matter their entanglements. He could never put a name to it, divine why they were so uncomfortable with quiet nights or tender eternity, that they were fated to be stained with arguments or livid silence.

Ren would claim he isn’t prone to sentimentality, that his combative nature went unphased by their hateful spats, and there is portioned truth to that statement. It was never the disputes he’d dread, but the aftermath and absence, alone when his even-tempered mind could ricochet this way and that. After a year he reckoned he wouldn’t feel anything when he saw Richie again. Things were different, a new page to etch a new chapter, where nothing was dangerous in its fragility.

But Ren was foolish to forget they were both creatures of habit.

Emerging from the ridges of thicket in stumbles, a group of five finally breach an opportune section of entrance. Warm glow that emanated from just yonder the crown of the fence, an elysium of wealth awaited the other side of this obstacle.

“Ah.” Ren stills, head turned to look up at the barrier. “Looked smaller from the street.”

Perhaps they’d just throw Bashi over and hope they landed on their feet. And speaking of which—

Ren spun to look at his Halloween friends, portioning weight from heel to toe in gentle chirpy sway.

“Who’s going over first? Any takers?” Whilst of impulsive nature, it was Halloween, and Ren wasn’t about to leap into an unknown place where the aforementioned murderers could be milling about. And then a better idea, albeit childish, withdrawing hand from his jacket pocket to extend to the circle of wrong-doers.

“Thumb war for it? Won't even cheat, pinky swear.”

Who shall be thrown to the trouvaille cornucopia as their brave little test rat?

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[CuChulainn]

Colm Healy

Colm smiled at Saoirse’s retort and read the piece of paper again, meanwhile she spun the board around to reveal the actual staff schedule for the week ahead. He was getting ready to leave when he felt someone come at him from behind. For a split second his heart leaped, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood. His eyes darted around the room to find some weapon.

Then he noticed Saoirse’s smile, and at the same time felt the touch of someone not meaning malicious intent. Instantly his body relaxed just as the fingers of Daisy pressed against his forehead. He chuckled to himself and let his body gently release the tension that had jumped out a second before.

Before he knew it she was standing in front of him.Her arms crossed and looking disappointed, playfully. Colm quickly took stock. Ok, maybe there were some positives to Halloween he thought. “I am in costume, today I’m dressed as a scary accountant, or businessman or something. Shit I don’t know, I hate dressing up for halloween. Just pretend I’m terrifying”

Colm quietly followed her out into the bar. Still empty thankfully. He glanced at his watch, no one from the next shift due in for half an hour anyway. “Uh, I’ll have you know Halloween was invented in Leprechaun land thank you very much. I just don’t particularly care for it .”

He quickly moved to the main entrance and stuck the staff wanted sign on the door, making sure it stuck tight and didn’t move by swinging the door. Satisfied with the adhesiveness he turned back and sat on a stool at the bar and placed both hands on the counter. He watched Daisy admire the alcohol selection and smirked.

“You can have as many free drinks as you like, provided you pour me one too”. He quickly scanned the wall of drinks, deciding if he wanted something from there or on draught. Then his eyes locked onto a light green bottle. “I’ll take a whiskey neat. Jameson.” Nodding his head towards the one he wanted.

He looked at her again. “Hell, you can drink for free anytime you want if you’re behind the bar dressed like that, I’ll have people lining up at the door for a drink. How is it that I’m sitting here in a nice, tailored two piece suit, and yet I feel both outdressed and underdressed in my own bar? Take it you have some big plans tonight?”

Colm flipped open his jacket and pulled a cigarette and lighter from inside his breast pocket. Lighting it up and taking a heavy pull. "I hear there's a party at some fancy prick's house up in the hills. Might head there myself" He exchaled and watched as the smoke drifted upwards into the ceiling before slowly slipping out of sight and evaporating.

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Mentions: Qwertycakes

coded by Mister Glass​

 

[qunqun]

HALLOWEEN.

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Jedidiah

Mantique

ㅎㅎ

MOOD

REN SHUT THE FUCK UP CHALLENGE

OUTFIT

Goth Slay

LOCATION

OUTSIDE JULIAN'S MANSION

MENTIONS

BASHI, REN, ADRIANA,

INTERACTS

-ferret- Gao TheVoidQueen

GLADIATOR — JANN.

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THE MOTHER.

Ancient and vicious, luscious as dark velvet. It blooms in you, a poppy made of ink.

OCTOBER 31ST.

The changes of plans were inevitable, tardiness almost like clockwork with the company that Jed kept. That didn’t keep them from worrying and fretting a little bit when especially the juvenile fledglings just out of their nest and the most threatened by the unsavory tardied out in the big scary world.

However, fully grown adults, the type that abandoned and then circled back like lost stray cats, did not receive the same kind of space and kindness that the kittens did.

“I’m cold.”
“You’re the one that begged to come along, dear.” Wreathed in a dark lace and a lovely black thing she’d created just for this occasion, she sighed as a slew of other mild complaints poured out of the skitterish whinging.

“If you want to go back, sugar, nobody’s gonna crucify you for it. Go home and go to bed, it’s alright to be scared.” A silly little manipulation, a small worm into the prideful dragon’s ear. Let it fester and rot at the back of his mind as they continued to trek onwards.

Apparently someone stepped on his foot. Jed looked between their compatriots. Maybe he’d tripped or something.

“Did you trip over a root sugar?” Warm honeyed words wrapping around the fellow New Yorker with the coils of a snake. Of someone who was very up to here with Ren’s nonsense.

And so laid the iron fence before them. A guard for degenerates to not enter the sweetened elysium that laid before them - the promise seemed to perk the pawn shop worker up at the very least. But, bravery was never his strongest suit, and he immediately began pestering for volunteers.

Jed’s eyes narrowed, lips pursued in deep reverie as they stewed and planned. “Bashi, on three we throw Ren over the fence.”

She was only joking on that matter.

That was Plan B.

“I jest, this is how we did it in Brooklyn, girls.” Empty purse save for a very heavy brick weighing it down to use as a bludgeoning weapon slapped into Bashi’s chest with a deep thud. The deep chunky heels of her shoes allowing her the height of a goddess as she cleanly climbed heavenwards, twisting over pointed stakes and allowing herself to acquiesce to gravity. A perfectly graceful landing in the heels through years of stunt work practice in them.

“Purse please.” Hand extended for her tenant to surrender the weaponized faux black leather bag back to the drag queen.

The party music thumped in the background, the sound of distraction, of easy theft from the rich who wouldn’t miss a single thing.

Easy meals for the next week for her brood as well.

“Come along, and gather all that you can carry. We oughta make this worthwhile.” Jed said with a special kind of glee that came with screwing over high society.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[purplecowdutch]

mood

feeling mischieveous and excited

location

stinky rich halloween party xx

tag

outfit

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit.

richie williams

TW; DRUGS
Richie stared at the ceiling silently as he heard the sirenes blasting from a distance through his window, he thought he wasn't high enough so he took another a hit and now he was fully peaking. The real reason why he took another hit was because of the plans he made with Ren, who was now back on Skid Row and invited him over to his house, Richie rarely got nervous but now he couldn't stop fidgeting and checking his phone. Thus, how he had ended up on his two person mattress on the floor, high as a kite and daydreaming about his old flame. They had a turbulent history, filled with bickering, fighting and

Richie had no clue how he ended up at this enormous gate, the sounds from under it sounded of a party and lights were flickering around every five second mark. He counted.
Bashi was here who was either his paranoia or an undercover cop, Jed, who he would call a friend most of the time, Adriana, who was just a pleasure to look at and Ren who wasn't so bad for the eye as well.
Richie felt extremely relaxed for someone who was about to rob rich people, leaning against the gate while he took a good look around them to spot any potential people who worked by the law before holding his gaze on Ren. He said something about going first and rock, papers, scissors but before any competition would happen Jed had already climbed over the fence with no effort at all. On heels. Richie tried his best not to drool.

He stumbled forwards, positioning himself next to Ren. Richie knew he was right about telling him to not get high but he had been away for too long to know that when he said that it was already too late. Richie had been experimenting since he lived alone with Daisy but since hanging out with the wrong people it got bad, really fast. He was trying harder stuff day by day and was now hiding his veins for his family, friends and even Daisy. It was a long time ago that a day had passed where he had been sober or felt good at all. Ren felt like an escape, hope maybe, back to a time where his main concern wasn't drug-related and where he could dream of getting out of Skid-Row with or without Ren.
Richie didn't want to give up but sometimes it felt like his life was sealed the minute his mother had brought him to that awful place and he would never forget, not since his dad had cut him off. Richie had been calling him every day since until today, when he found out, he even changed his number.

Jed yelled out about the rich folks inside with pure glee, Richie knew this was his chance to pay back what he owed and all he had to do was focus and grab a few diamonds or scarfs that looked fancy. He looked at Ren with a small smile, hoping he had not been thinking out loud this entire time. He stepped forward, 'okay, this is too easy,' he bragged as he gave Bashi a quick look, almost as a sign to get out of his way before holding onto the gate with both his hands lifting himself up which went easier than he expected it to go. On top of the gate, he looked down at the group as to show how fast he climbed the top of this gate and held up his arms. 'Let's fucking steal shit tonight, alright,' he howled out of excitement while trying to get himself safe on ground again, slipping away real fast but recovering his fall by holding onto Jed on the other side, appearing with a dumb laugh on his face the entire time. 'Come on Ren, we're in a rush or I'll keep all the shiny diamonds to myself,' he said teasingly looking through the fence at his polar opposite, hoping maybe this night wouldn't end with them fighting and something actually changed for once.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[-ferret-]

click!

Bashi

gaslight gorl

location

a fence somewhere, not sure where exactly

outfit

interactions

ren, jed, richie, adriana

tags

Gao qunqun TheVoidQueen purplecowdutch

And so the mischief begins...

"I'm cold."
On his best days, Bashi was a ray of sunshine. An effusion of cackling and silliness. Today was possibly not his best day.

"You'll be colder when I punch you in the face, Ren."

Bashi grumbled, pulling white cotton tighter to his rather skinny frame. Who decided that they should walk? A terrible idea. Bashi wasn't made for distance. He was much more suited to speed. Honed after years of what he liked to call the "Bite and Run Like Hell". Trudging all the way to...wherever they were, was actually the worst. Only the promise of food and shiny things kept one frozen foot in front of the other.

"Oof. What the hell, ma?? Is this a brick??"

Nothing could keep Bashi's curious little mitts from digging around in the purse. Yeah, it was a brick. Wait! Was that a candy bar?? Purse snatched. Fuck. The pout that Bashi leveled at the retreating purse could've rivaled the saddest of kittens. Richie said something aggravating, no doubt. Bashi looked up to see Ren's...person(?) sitting atop the fence. Not one to be outdone, Bashi hiked up his robes and scaled the fence easily. One of his better rat-like qualities. He lifted up the bird mask and looked across the fence to Ren.

"Scared, Ren? Bet you fall on your face!"

Ah. Taunting. One of his lesser rat-like qualities. Done with that, Bashi turned towards the mansion, lifting his nose in the air and sniffing obnoxiously. Food. Sliding the mask back onto his face, he began the trek towards the rich person house with a determined strut to his step.

"THESE BOOTS WERE MADE FOR STOMPING, AND THAT'S JUST WHAT THEY'LL DO!!"

Bashi shouted, aptly stomping up the grassy hill, skirt and robe still hiked in his grimy little rat hands. A glass side door permitted the thieving rat squad entrance, letting them spill into a dimly lit room swarmed with people. Bashi immediately darted toward the kitchen, letting his nose lead the way. He found it immediately. He had a sixth sense for these kinds of things. Finding kitchens and whatnot. Piling a plate high with snackables and other foodities, he scoped out expensive things he could...borrow...indefinitely. And so the mischief begins...

song title

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Not Meat]

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The DJ

Dani

mood

Panicked

outfit

outfit

location

Julian's House

interactions

Random party goers

tags

Qwertycakes

It must have been an hour before others started showing up.

Danielle had been early to the party, of course. One of the luxuries of her job was getting into all of the big parties that her patrons threw. It was nice to pretend she was part of the luxury life as she mingled with the people around her. Most of them had no idea who she was, or some recognized her but adverted their eyes so their dates didn't know. Regardless Danielle paid no mind to them tonight, she had already done her business now it was time to party.

The speakers blasted some sort of pop music as she paced the halls of Julian's home, drink in hand, wandering until she found someone she wanted to talk to. Her heels made delicate click-clacks against the hard wood floor and her spare hand dragged against the wall. Half lidded eyes swept the room, searching for her next victim.

How she wished at least one of her friends were there to accompany her. While Danielle didn't feel awkward in the company of strangers she certainly was more comfortable with her people around. Such was the life of the call girl, though. Other than the speckles of true friends aqcuired through Bashi, the rest of her 'friends' didn't care to really know her.

A gentle sigh escaped her and she wandered toward the bar, deciding to grab a new drink and pace the room again after downing some more alcohol. She pushed herself to remember that this was supposed to be fun. Dainty fingers wrapped around the new glass placed in front of her, bringing the drink to her lips as her eyes continued to scan around the room.

Her heart dropped and she swallowed her drink hard as her eyes connected with his. Eyes Danielle had gazed into many times before, glimmering in the light. There was no doubt in her mind as she looked at him that he knew exactly what she was doing there. Quickly, as though she was escaping in a horror movie, Danielle whipped around, moving the opposite direction she had seen him in, hoping she could lose him in the crowd of people scattered about the room. Trying not to look too frantic as she slipped through groups, Danielle didn't care if she brushed up against people trying to make her getaway.

Anything was better than facing Alexei.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Not Meat]

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The Broken One

Britt

mood

Nervous/Excited

outfit

outfit

location

Julian's House

interactions

Graham

tags

qunqun

Halloween was one of her favourite times of the year.

There was something about dressing up and going out that Brittany absolutely adored. It was as if she could put on a face and hide away from lifes problems on Halloween. She could pretend to be someone else for a day. Plus she enjoyed the parties that went along with the holiday. Not only because she had experienced some of the most ridiculous ambulance rides with drunken party goers, but she also enjoyed partaking in those drunken affairs when she had the chance. This year just so happened to be one of those years for her.

So there she was, putting fake fangs on her teeth so she could match with her kind of date. Bri and Graham had been casually getting together for a little while now, but they hadn't actually gone on many date type things. With her invitation to this posh Halloween party, Brittany invited him hoping that he would accept so she wouldn't have to go alone. They collaborated on the theme and decided on hot vampires. It was a win win really. Brittany got to admire the eye candy that was her friend with benefits and look good doing so.

Of course Brittany Ubered to the event. There was no way in hell she was driving in the shoes she picked, and no way in hell she was going to be abandoning her car at a house she barely knew.

The duo had agreed to meet at the venue so she wasn't surprised at all when she saw Graham standing outside waiting for her. What did suprise her, however, was how drop dead scrumptious he looked. If it were possible her jaw would have fallen to the ground like a cartoon character seeing a pretty girl. However this was real life, so Brittany kept that reaction to herself and casually strolled toward him, a sly smirk playing on her lips.

"Well look at you. I wasn't expecting to be outshone by my date." Bri joked, "How hot Dracula of you." It hadn't fully occured to her how difficult it would be for her to properly talk with the fangs on her teeth, she would have to adjust. For now, however, it seemed like she would have to live with having a slight lisp. Oh well, it could be worse.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[qunqun]

HALLOWEEN.

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Graham

The Survivalist

ㅎㅎ

MOOD

Let's fall in love for the night-

OUTFIT

Vampire Slay

LOCATION

OUTSIDE JULIAN'S MANSION

MENTIONS

Britt

INTERACTS

Not Meat

Let's Fall in Love — FINNEAS.

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Aster's Eulogy.

A star has died, the brightest burn the fastest, and all that remains is silence

OCTOBER 31ST.

He’d quit smoking when he went to university.

Yeah, the gardener living out of his truck had gone to university, but that was an entire epoch ago, before a deep call in his blood had pulled at him until Graham had immigrated under a work visa.

All that really mattered was that he’d taken a course covering human physiology back then. A couple scans of lungs later, the images of yellowed teeth and fingernails haunting his pretty empty little brain, too hungover to be the normal careful construction of jaded and cynical and nihilistic.

So he didn’t smoke.

Which was a shame, because he could really go for the smell of cloves and the light feeling of embers this fine day, a mild buzz at the back of his brain, to watch the smoke slowly drift to the heavens, ascending like she did.

He observed dotted pricks of light piercing through the black veil of shadow while waiting for his date to arrive, the party thumping in the background as he stood outside a mansion. Not his normal scene, notoriously he had a lot of difficulties with propriety and pomp, but when you’re invited to something well…

His costume had been thrown together - stuff from his teenage years that had been baggy and loose fitting but had now become the exact size necessary. Three dollar fake blood smeared over lips and allowed to drip into his beard - carefully applied under the eyes to slowly slide down ruddy cheeks for the appearance of tears, and some five dollar fake fangs.

An ensemble he’d been using for Halloween for years, but one that still worked. Besides, he was getting a bit long in the tooth now. Might’ve been the last year of proper partying that he could stomach.

He’d always gravitated towards the soft and the comfortable. Painting himself a palette of greens and browns with the occasional pinks and blues. The darker stuff had been fun when he’d been morose and angry, a way to wrap the vestiges of her around him and carry her on when she’d been abandoned behind.

Stars were like humans, in the end. They were usually in pairings of two, circling for eternity. The Greeks had a myth about how originally humans had two heads, four arms, four legs. They’d been split apart, and spent their entire lives crawling back to each other trying to be whole again.

What happened when you were born whole, though? And then your other half withers and dies?

He never liked that myth anyways. He’d never been that much of a scholar to try to read into that old shit anyways.

… He’d never been that much of a scholar to try to read into that old shit.

… He’d never been that much of a scholar anyways.

A fun distraction from his melancholic musings, a car began to pull up – a message on his phone beaconed information to him: she was to arrive in an Uber. So he paid a little bit of attention, a small shake to rattle away the ghosts that entangled his being before she could notice and an easy slide into his role.

After all, it wasn’t very nice to feel the whispers of the past pulling you back when you were supposed to be on a date.

Warmth and charisma molded itself onto him: the masquerade was to begin. He held his hands out for her to grab when she approached, making sure that she was very aware of his slow analysis of her costume. Careful and very sure, even guiding her in a small spin for him to take in the entire view.

People liked that, when you took in the details.

“I wasn’t expecting to be outshone by my date”

Flirting already! Making it all too easy. He seemed to preen just a little bit, a lock of fiery curl being carefully lined back into place.

“Please, I’m but a spotlight, love.” A purr, slow and calm like a river of chocolate. An easy identifiable accent tempered his words. “You’re the main star.”

And then he offered her an elbow. “Shall we?”

While they walked in together, he continued to speak, under the din surrounding them for her ears only, a small playful lilt intruding into the flirtatious brogue. “I’m expecting all of the tea from the upper class, by the way. All their dirty little secrets. How do we know the hosts?”

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The Broken One

Britt

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Nervous/Excited

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outfit

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Julian's House

interactions

Graham

tags

qunqun

An unwanted heat rose to her pale cheeks.

Luckily Brittany had applied a rosy blush on her cheeks as part of her costume so it covered up the flush that Grahams gentle touch brought to her face. Unnamed emotions flooded through her once again, just as they had the past few times they had met up. Feelings that Brittany shoved down to the depths of her heart and soul, unwilling to allow them to spin into her head and create impossible scenarios.

Graham spun her, taking in her outfit. As a willing participant Brittany spun, allowing her flowing, black skirt to twirl around her as she did so. A gentle smile followed another flush of her skin as he spoke. Words so enchanting, Graham truly did always know precisely what to say to her. Sometimes she wondered if perhaps he wanted more from her. If perhaps those kind words were him attempting to take steps toward another direction in their relationship.

No.

Brittany pushed those thoughts away, rejecting the idea that their relationship would be anything more. What they had was working. Who could possibly need more?

"Lets." She placed her hand on his arm delicately, letting him lead her into the venue. Elegantly they floated into the house, their footsteps falling in an almost perfect unison. Brittany couldn't tell if she was matching his pace or if he was matching hers as they walked together. It wasn't something her mind dwelled on long, instead focusing on the sound of his voice.

"Hmm." Brittany laughed to herself, looking down at the ground and letting herself smile, "Well. I couldn't tell you very much tea about these people, honestly. The brunt of what I know is what my father tells me but..." as she spoke she gestured to a man in about his late 20's, "I know that he is cheating on his wife with his secretary. As for our host. Well. I believe he's a divorcee who was caught cheating. I believe he frequents the escort services in town. Don't quote me on that, though. I only know what I've heard through the grapevine." Her voice was soft, reaching for only Grahams ears as they paced the floor toward the bar.

Britt let go of Grahams arm and retrieved herself and Graham drinks, turning on her heel so she could hand him his. "Our host is Julian Arrington. I don't know that I've personally met him but I believe he either knows my father or Mr. Fletcher. Neither of them could make it, though, so... At some point I'm sure I'll have to apologize on their behalf."

Oh how Brittany loathed her fathers business nature. How he so willingly drug her into his dealings, sending her to events as his proxy when he couldn't attend. Most of the time they weren't even important events, just get togethers of sorts that he felt would be rude to not have someone from his business attend. It was exhausting to feel as though he still viewed her as a pawn in his little game. Especially after what he had done to her the last time that he used her to further his business.

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[qunqun]

HALLOWEEN.

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Graham

The Survivalist

ㅎㅎ

MOOD

I already want to go home actually

OUTFIT

Vampire Slay

LOCATION

JULIAN'S MANSION

MENTIONS

Britt

INTERACTS

Not Meat

Let's Fall in Love — FINNEAS.

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Aster's Eulogy.

A star has died, the brightest burn the fastest, and all that remains is silence

OCTOBER 31ST.

A secret, hushed and quiet, the clockwork that carefully ticked in Graham’s brain.

His own personal superpower, and his own living curse.

An intuitive knowledge of people, fingers gently caressing words and body language like one would a violin. Expressions, the slightest twitch of the brow, the minute details in the way that every single person held themselves in regards to their partner.

A crowd of people to get lost in – that woman was not as interested in that drunken fool as he believed she was, keep an eye on them. The man over there? Hiding something from his girl, closed off and guarded.

The people in the corner, he could read their lips and see the gossip, the not so subtle glances towards his person, eye catching as always.

When he was looking for some company, he would gladly walk over to the two with a charming smile and a wink. Ask if they’d been talking about him and watch as embarrassment flushed their faces a rosy hue. Tonight, though, he put an arm against the small of Britt’s back with a charming smile as she spoke, trying to not let his green eyes flicker away again as drunken emotions crowded his own.

All these people, snippets of conversation stealing his attention – tones, so many fucking tones to keep track of. Body language, people in danger, was she too drunk or had she been roofied?

The woman in the corner there, did she need to be introduced into the party or was she dragged along by friends-

The man who was staring at her, a person who was struggling to identify her or a stalker?

People blurred his vision, inebriation hitting him in the chest like a cannonball as he forcibly dragged his attention to his partner once more.

He much preferred it when the living moving organism of a crowd, overwhelming with all the secrets he could ascertain within the span of minutes, was filed down to the intimacy of two.

Fastly encroaching overpowering of his own sense of self hid carefully behind an empty headed warmth as he continued to soul gaze, pretending like the party wasn’t already giving him a headache and the itching need under his skin to get drunk in order to handle it all.

“Escort services, that man?” Eyebrows raised, lips carefully twitching into a smirk as she pointed some people out. Observations bubbling to the surface despite his will to stay grounded with his very beautiful date.

Slimy. Sleazeball. Way too interested in the other man, talking about cryptocurrency the fecking idjit. Watch spoke of wealth, the way his hands wrung spoke of anxieties and it’d be oh so easy to sidle up next to him, push a button and watch him fall into malleable clay for Graham to reform-

He needed to get fecking hammered, he couldn’t handle this.

“Julian Arrington” Echoed, balancing the sound on his tongue. Making sure that she understood that he was listening and paying attention despite the encroaching overwhelming that was pounding into his skull. “I forgot, the sins of the father.”

A small joke, tinged with sympathy. An airheaded grin accompanied his next statement, vacancy between green eyes apparent in every possible way, the masquerade would continue another night.

“Hey, well, such a rich lad probably has good taste in alcohol, no?”

Please. Alcohol.

“Can I get ya a drink, love?” Careful flirtation, a game that he had to play. A waltz, and he couldn’t let his partner fall. “Y’know, for the upcoming apology.”

He knew how to push and pull, like the tides. Careful and sure as he went, the game was almost too easy this time around. The smallest touches for the maximum effect.

She always had something dangerous to her, in her expression when she looked at him, a coy and careful kind of fondness. It made this charade almost a farce. But it was dangerous nonetheless. Cruelty was not a weapon which Graham wielded, and with all of his hookups he always felt a bit fond of those that fell into his bed. He tried not to think too hard about what the fondness could mean – the reason why this pretense of friends with benefits has gone on as long as it has.

Bruising was not uncommon, he had his own necrotic side which he shielded from the world. He just hoped that when all the dominoes fell, she wouldn’t be too hurt by the answer he would have to give her.

In the meantime, he gave her another empty warm smile. Vapid platitudes, promises of support, if only for this night, from a person who could easily see the reservations of attendance. A calloused warm hand on her cheek as he turned to leave her for a second.

“Just cause you’re forced here, doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun” A much more mischievous grin, eyes lit up in a wicked glee as his hand fell, tapping her shoulder twice. “I’m going to be right back, watch out for that guy over there, he’s been starin’ at ya since we came in.”

He downed two shots before he returned back to her, red cup in hand. His mind starting to loosen enough to where he could actually focus on one thing at a time and not the two people snogging in the corner. "Here ya go."

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[-ferret-]

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  tee hee drunk as a skunk

  
  
  
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  a bar stool in some bar next to aurelian

  
  
  

If you told Apollo Gray that he was hurtling towards drunk at the speed of fruity vodka drinks, he'd say you were lying. You would, in fact, not be lying. He didn't go to bars often, always just a tad bit anxious that his fake ID (which was almost real thankyou very much) wouldn't withstand the scrutiny of bartenders and bouncers. He didn't exactly look like a Frank Demetri now did he? (Born three years prior to him and living in a ritzy part of Los Angeles that Apollo had never even seen.) Despite all that, Apollo had decided Halloween was the perfect night to get away with his slightly illegal alcohol consumption. On the grounds that bartenders and bouncers would be far more invested in the scantily clad ladies and gentlemen making a ruckus of their establishments. Not Apollo. Who was very sober, yes. He'd had very little knowledge of alcoholic drinks before his fake ID and even though a year had passed since paying an exorbitant amount of money (fifty bucks is a lot to a struggling barista) for his little piece of plastic, his drink knowledge was maybe worse than he started.

Despite not knowing what Creme de Violette was or what exactly made Stoli Vodka special enough to have an identifier, cranberry juice and simple syrup sounded fairly sweet. Apollo had arrived at Lucy's Pit on the corner in Skid Row with a bunch of other Halloween goers. He was already a little tipsy, almost stumbling in through the door with the group of girls all dressed as the fairies from the Tinkerbell movies. Now though, as the girls he came in with danced to the blaring Halloween themed music, Apollo sat in a stool by the bar. His denim clad knees were pulled up to his chest and he had a horde of half finished drinks sitting in front of him, coasters on each cup top. He was extremely flattered to be trusted with their drinks, but he knew most of the girls from the coffee shop so it shouldn't have been as surprising as it was. Even so, he was taking his duties seriously. Mostly. Delia at least was going to come back to an empty glass unfortunately. But she had gotten that one from the man down the bar so he wasn't super broken up about it. It definitely had strawberries in it. Delia didn't even like strawberries.

Musings on strawberries and if strawberry extract was a real thing was interrupted when tall, dark, and obviously stewing plopped down into a bar stool two stools down from Apollo and ordered something he didn't hear over Monster Mash (for the third time). Without much preamble, Apollo touched down onto the floor, scooted each of the drinks two stools to the right, climbed back up and rested his head in his hand, giving his best beaming smile.

"I love how you just sit in the corner and brood."

apollo

booped snoot

aurelian

@qunqun

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The Broken One

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Graham

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A betrayal beyond belief.

With his touch, Brittant's skin prickled and sent waves of shivers throughout her body. How was it that she was so weak to him yet feared the way he looked her in the eye? How much simpler it would be if she could push away the involuntary flutter that erupted in her stomach every time he called her love.

He was flirting. As if he really needed to at this point. The cards for them had already been laid out on the table, telling the future of the bedsheets tangling around their bodies as they dove into their pleasure play. Just as the times before. Nothing had changed between them, yet Graham put on this air of care that sparkled in Brittany's brain despite her repeated attempts to extinguish the flame.

What a wicked game they were playing. What a cruel joke was this face that they were putting on. When the dominoes fell, Brittany feared that the way she would pull away would shatter someone's heart.

And it wouldn't be hers.

Curious eyes swept across the room to the man that her date had pointed out just before departing from her. Their gazes met and Brittany couldn't help the roll of her eyes or the shake of her head as she turned away, not wanting anything to do with the grotesque pig that had lifted his glass as if to say hello. If there was one thing she learned over the years of being in the upper class, it was that men like him were to be avoided.

They all wanted the same thing from her at the end of the day. A means to approach her father or a merger once they realized who he was and what he did. That had been the fate that brought her to the Fletchers.

Don't think about it. Focus on the task at hand. Focus on the man reapproaching, drink in hand.

A fake smile that barely passed as genuine flashed on her lips, exposing the fake fangs tacked to her teeth. The skeletons in her closet clawed at the door in her mind, screaming for release, but Brittany padlocked the door. Focus on the task at hand. Pretend to want to be there. Drown your sorrows.

A cautious hand lifted her drink to her lips and sipped the sweet nectar. It stung as it went down but the burn took away the ghosts in her mind. Needless to say it was a welcome release.

"That man." She motioned with her eyes toward the man that Graham had pointed out to her, "Adrian Pickett. Architect, I believe. He wants to replace the Alvarez contract with his own." Another sip from her cup. "Alvarez is the architect that my father is partnered with. Mr. Pickett seems to think that if he charms the CEO's daughter that it will get him where he wants to be." How wrong was he. The Avidans and the Alvarezes had been partnered for too long for Erik to change the contract any time soon. Someone would have to die.

Someone would have to die...

Brittany swallowed hard. Focus. "He's a slimeball." Though as she said it she raised her cup in his direction and motioned to her date. "What more can you expect from the upper class, though."

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[qunqun]

HALLOWEEN.

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Aurelian

The Chef

ㅎㅎ

MOOD

leave me ALOOOONEEEEEE

OUTFIT

Demon Slay

LOCATION

SOME BAR

MENTIONS

APOLLO

INTERACTS

-ferret-

HELL ABOVE — PIERCE THE VEIL

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The Tertiary Sin.

Boiling deep within, a bubbling heat of wrath. Venom seeping through bladed lexicon

OCTOBER 31ST.

The music was already exceedingly grating.

Aurelian realized that there were really only going to be about 4 songs on repeat tonight, especially in a stupid Irish pub like the place he’d gone. But what could he say? He didn’t really feel like actually being social, but had figured that staying at home would be depressing.

He blamed Jed for deciding that tonight instead of throwing their Halloween bash they would go steal from some rich person’s house.

Ever the buzzkill, he ordered a single glass of water with some ice.

He didn’t like alcohol.

He had no fucking clue why he was here.

Crystal clear glass and a repeat of monster mash thumping in his ears as he slowly took a sip of-

AHH A STRANGER.

A slow turn of his head towards this tiny… human, leveling the full glare of his antisocial behavior at this slightly intoxicated-

“You’re underage.” There were people in his restaurant that tried to pull the wool over his eyes to get some alcohol. He knew how to spot people that didn’t quite belong.

A very sharp smile revealing too many teeth to be genuine spread across his face as he gave a humorless hiss of a laugh. Another sip of his nonalcoholic drink as he turned back to the kid.

“Get lost.”

“I love how you sit in a corner and brood” Bright sunshine cast into a stewing pit of shadowy misanthrope.

“Well that’s great, you can admire from afar.” A flat and uninterested tone accompanying this way too cheerful person. Another small sip of his water, if anybody asked, he was drinking a vodka-tonic. Sobriety at a club with too many sweaty humans and too loud music was almost unbearable and put him in an equally bad mood as this stranger intruding upon his very necessary hour of grumbling to himself before he became actually fun, but the alternative was drunken debauchery and….

Yellow eyes slowly slid back over to check if Apollo was still staring at him

They made eye contact.

Help.

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[qunqun]

HALLOWEEN.

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Graham

The Survivalist

ㅎㅎ

MOOD

I already want to go home actually

OUTFIT

Vampire Slay

LOCATION

JULIAN'S MANSION

MENTIONS

Britt

INTERACTS

Not Meat

Let's Fall in Love — FINNEAS.

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Aster's Eulogy.

A star has died, the brightest burn the fastest, and all that remains is silence

OCTOBER 31ST.

Alcohol warmed him, the soft buzz of whiskey in the afterglow of burning.

His smile became maybe a little bit brighter, his movements a little bit less stiff as he took his third drink of the night.

Grassy burned with fervor as he took another glance at where Britt had beckoned his attention. It was much easier now to just focus on her when his senses were dampened and muddled.

Languid long limbs carefully wrapped around his partner. A protective barrier from harm, the roles he so easily slid into. Maddening claustrophobia abating just a little with another small hit of his drug of choice.

He’d always been the melancholic one, the sensitive type. Careful and personable, but in this day and age, the mask was better as an exuberant airhead – it allowed him more leniency than his counterpart. A thin barrier of space between him and his partner.

The persona was more fun anyways.

Fondness and longing, trapped behind carefully guarded walls.

He really had to end the game soon, sparks and glimmers would become an inferno. But he’d never quite gotten used to the ways people looked at him with those two emotions, never liked having to disappoint others.

Selfishness hidden within the curtains of hedonistic tendencies said that this was a conversation to have tomorrow.

“Alvarez.”

Because, as we all knew, the Alvarez family and the Avidans were very close…

… Who the fuck were they????

Hands and knees planted firmly within the earth, there was a distinct lack in the frame of reference that Graham had with these names being thrown at him.

They paid him to trim their hedges and plant some flowers, and that was usually the end of the day. Certainly, they didn’t want to learn about his proclivities outside what he could directly offer them, and quite frankly he didn’t either.

But it was good to keep her talking, banter was one of the better parts of these rendezvous.

So if “Alvarez” was an architect, and this dude was also an architect… Were the Avidans planning on building another building? Why did it matter who was whose architect if they didn’t even have plans to begin with?

Was this a bad time to ask what exactly her parents did besides be rich?

Also were all the people in this party sycophants? Or was that just Britt’s impression-

Returning to his scarecrow form before ticking clockwork combusted, Graham simply blinked as she continued to vent. Wow, that was certainly some built up frustration.

A soft low whistle. “Sounds like a piece of work, love.”

Because what else could he say about that?

“You’re absolutely lovely, though. I quite like you.” He said, a small teasing nudge with his shoulder as she complained more about the upper class.

“Besides, has to have a couple perks, no? Beats the alternative.”

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The Broken One

Britt

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Nervous/Excited

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Julian's House

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Graham

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qunqun

Another sip from her drink.

It didn't burn as nicely as it went down anymore. Disappointing. No longer a distraction from the bitter taste her her mind liked to leave in her mouth. Instead she would have to rely on her date to distract her. A just as dangerous game, really.

Realizing too late that Graham knew nothing of the people she spoke about, she didn't bother to explain. Not that she thought he would really care about her family or the drama revolving around her father. Honestly they didn't talk much about their lives in general. If she were asked about Graham she wouldn't be able to tell anyone much. Where she could describe in detail the warmth of his skin pressed against her, she couldn't tell about his favourite colour nor remember his last name off by heart.

She didn't know him. She didn't want to. Knowing someone led to roads that would only leave in heartache. More skeletons throwing themselves at the closets of her mind, torturing her in the late hours of the night. Screams of terror escaping her lips as she woke from the nightmares that the skeletons provided.

No. Knowing him was not an option. Neither was telling him about herself.

Was she fooled? Or had he expressed his liking to her before aside from their meaningless pillow talk? Certainly she would have remembered if he had said something like that before as she would have very quickly put an end to it. Perhaps she was reading too far into it, once again allowing her mind to spiral out of control.

"Well. I try not to be like them. If there was a perk to being part of the upper class. I haven't found it." Brittany shrugged off the idea. The only thing her position brought her was longing. A whole that couldn't be filled no matter how hard she tried. "There's no real friends in this world."

As if pulled from a thick fog, Brittany snapped her attention to Graham. She straightened her back and flashed another smile. Fake. But a smile nonetheless. "I apologize. I really have no business complaining. I probably sound like a spoiled brat." A gentle laugh pointed toward herself passed her lips and she shook her head, "I should get this apology over with so we can actually have fun, yeah? Wait here a moment."

Intrusive thoughts begged Brittany to reach out to him. To embrace him before she left and promise to return. What a silly, foolish, naïve heart that begged to be broken. Instead she picked up the front of her dress and make her way to their host. A part of her wanted Graham to follow her. To protect her if this pig of a man tried to touch her. Wishful thinking.

As if she were a marionette, her motions were fluid. Forced by the hands of her father as she attempted a kindness that Brittany wouldn't normally give any of the men in the room aside from the one. The apology was swift. Easy. Another fake smile and even a forced laugh. Her stomach turned as one of the men moved a curl from her shoulder, exposing her skin. With that gesture, Brittany made her leave. Only a few seconds of that interaction had passed and she was over their antics.

Was she any better, though? Fooling around with temptations that should have ended long ago.

"Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous." Brittany mumbled under her breath as she reapproached her date. There was no hiding the shake of her head and dramatic roll of her eyes as she took a deep brath and forced another smile up at Graham. "Okay. Apology is over. Lets have some real fun, yeah?"

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[qunqun]

HALLOWEEN.

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Graham

The Survivalist

ㅎㅎ

MOOD

I already want to go home actually

OUTFIT

Vampire Slay

LOCATION

JULIAN'S MANSION

MENTIONS

Britt

INTERACTS

Not Meat

Let's Fall in Love — FINNEAS.

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Aster's Eulogy.

A star has died, the brightest burn the fastest, and all that remains is silence

OCTOBER 31ST.

Bathed in mindless debauchery, Dionysian efforts to remain simplistic, vacant of higher cognitive functions, Graham knew he wasn’t the most intelligent guy out there.

Sometimes, people said some really stupid things though.

No perks. None whatsoever.

No real friends

Hate to break it to her, but most people were fair weather anyways, and flew south when it became too frigid for comfort. That wasn’t class, but more it was human.

But sometimes, you have to choose your battles.

Cynicism aside, he maintained that perfectly blankly sunny exterior. “Oh you don’t have to apologize, love. Sounded like you were keeping that pent up inside ya for a while.”

Besides, he didn’t know her life. Maybe it really was that terrible, he wouldn’t know.

He watched her stride away, feeling vaguely like he’d fucked up somehow. Though maybe that was because there had been a glimmer there of honesty, too candor with its scratches and imperfections. A hint of something more behind vapid visages.

His bad, she wouldn’t see it ever again.

Slimy businessmen gently caressing locks of her hair, revealing ivory flesh. Any closer and he’d have to intervene, but for now he nursed his drink, the more numbed out he was, the less cognition would be required. Easy and simple, a good life.

Lighting up when she returned like a puppy eager to please a master, he beamed. Bright and stupid, the way that he normally was. “Welcome back, love. What do you expect us to do, something fun I hope.”

Last time he’d attended some high class extravaganza, the masquerade had been more literal. Soft velvet touches, the hasty flicking open of brass buttons as he removed a black venetian mask. A gentle flash of teeth against rosy skin, and the pull of flaxen curls. When a crowd of people disappeared and became just two, that was pure ecstasy at its height.

A near miss for international scandal. But that was always the danger courted when seducing a prince.

He was assuming that this one would not be nearly as eventful or as entertaining, but he was certainly willing to give it a shot!

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[Not Meat]

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The Broken One

Britt

mood

Nervous/Excited

outfit

outfit

location

Julian's House

interactions

Graham

tags

qunqun

Keeping up these appearances was exhausting.

The smiling and chipper voice Britt put on was starting to slowly wear away. Soon she wouldn't have to pretend though, right, drunk people were much more forgiving about a stern face from a lady.

Passive eyes flickered around the room, anything was better than meeting Grahams eyes. She needed more alcohol if he was going to continue calling her love. It was distracting. Confusing. The way her mind twisted and fought itself every time he flashed her a smile or touched her skin. Going on dates like this would have to be banned. It was too much.

Brittany pulled her hair forward again, undoing what the man before had done. She felt much more comfortable with her skin covered, especially when she could feel someones eyes admiring her. Undressing her as she stood there, imagining her in unsavory positions. Leave it to their imaginations. As much as Brittany fought it she couldn't see herself being touched by anyone else.

Bri's lips twitched as she thought, "Hmm. Well... I think pretty soon people are going to start heavily drinking so. We could watch what absolute spectacles these people become themselves. Or we could steal a bottle or two of this expensive whiskey and get out of here?" Of course Britt preferred the latter. The amount of times she had seen some absolutely horrible things happen at these parties... Too many to count.

It would be seen as rude, though, wouldn't it? To disappear. Perhaps that wasn't the best idea.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, "Either way. I need another drink."

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[qunqun]

HALLOWEEN.

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Graham

The Survivalist

ㅎㅎ

MOOD

I'm paying attention again

OUTFIT

Vampire Slay

LOCATION

JULIAN'S MANSION

MENTIONS

Britt

INTERACTS

Not Meat

Let's Fall in Love — FINNEAS.

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Aster's Eulogy.

A star has died, the brightest burn the fastest, and all that remains is silence

OCTOBER 31ST.

The curl of a Cheshire grin, a quick brush of ivory over soft pink, a peek of red sliding out as he hummed. Emerald green surveying the party, sweaty writhing masses. He wouldn’t mind the scene most days, find someone to join and become one. It was all part of the dance — the game. But tonight his partner had already been selected from the start, a rigged game with weighted dice. No, it wouldn’t do to get distracted by loosening morals and thinly promised discretion of debauchery by rich CEOs promising fast cars and expensive watches.

“Let’s get the feck out of here, darlin’” He said, the molasses caressing purr of his accent against syllabic intent getting stronger through inebriation upon the rosy hue of alcohol.

Calloused fingers traipsed and danced over bottles, brown and clear. Ambrosia for the common man as he cleanly plucked two bottles. Squinted through hazy vision, the necessity of sight oft laid forgotten at home. Vague shapes looked pricey, one that he passed to her with all the concealment of a heist committed by giggly middle schoolers sneaking their first sip of liquor.

Another rumbly purr as Herculean arms pushed the front door open, a large radiating hand placed upon the small of her back. Sunlight incarnate, a star.

“Most of the clients I get that show me around this part of town are usually looking for some privacy. Y’know any good places ‘round here?” That accent was coming in hard as he took a very big gulp of… expensive whiskey. A walking contradiction by nature, his guard was up much more, and much less. Inner necrosis hidden nestled further within radiation and heat, yet intentions and awareness laid bare. A slot easily into expectations: a charming fuckboy through and through.

Hissed out at the pleasant burn, masochistic tendencies floating through a flood of nectar, added fuel to an inferno welling within him: “Smooth as feck this shite.”

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Not Meat]

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The Broken One

Britt

mood

Relieved

outfit

outfit

location

Outside Julian's House

interactions

Graham

tags

qunqun

The decision had been made.

The apology had been uttered, politely, of course. There truly was no other reason for the girl to be there afterwards. Not that any of the party goers would notice her absence anyway. The only ones that paid her mind were the ones that wanted something from her. Who didn't want something from her these days. Ever since the news came out there had been an endless supply of onlookers. People who only wanted to further themselves in this cruel world. Sometimes it made Brittany wish she was the one who left.

Soft skin connected with the neck of the glass bottle, wrapping delicate fingers around the stolen goods. If her father were there with her he would have been so disappointed in her, tsking at her as she snuck away to do whatever she wanted to do. It felt wrong. Unlike her in every way to be stealing and running off with a man she barely knew. Things she should have done when she was younger but didn't get the chance to. Mistakes that were never made in her youth turned to crimes she would commit as an adult. At least she was doing it in good company.

Well. As good of company as she had found so far. The jury was still out on whether Graham was truly good for her or not. More likely than not the latter considering Bri didn't have the balls to tell her father about what she had been getting up to.

As the duo left the house, stepping into the refreshing air of the night, Brittany finally felt like she could breathe. It didn't occur to her before that being around all of those people had already begun to take a toll on her. Yet as she released her breath an overwhelming feeling of relief hit her. Brittany was not made for these events. Or perhaps she was before but circumstances had changed everything.

She was no longer the innocent, doe eyed girl she had once been. The scars on her heart had turned her into someone she barely recognized. Someone she wasn't certain she liked.

"Hmm. I don't know. Normally I would just go home from an event like this." A swig off the bottle sent a pleasurable burn down her throat, "I suppose there is a club a few blocks away." Brittany had never been there for fun, though, mainly just for work. Bar fights were a pretty normal thing in the posh neighborhoods. Well, bar fights were common anywhere alcohol was involved, really. Tensions build and personalities hit their unfortunate peaks when the sickly drink was involved.

"Unless you just want to go back to my place? I can order us some food and we can watch a film? I don't really care where we go or what we do. I'll order us a ride or we can walk."

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[qunqun]

HALLOWEEN.

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Graham

The Survivalist

ㅎㅎ

MOOD

I'm paying attention again

OUTFIT

Vampire Slay

LOCATION

JULIAN'S MANSION

MENTIONS

Britt

INTERACTS

Not Meat

Let's Fall in Love — FINNEAS.

scroll

Aster's Eulogy.

A star has died, the brightest burn the fastest, and all that remains is silence

OCTOBER 31ST.

With the type of wandering like a puppy let loose from a leash, the tsking promise of a treat made him slowly circle back to his owner.

“Netflix and chill, then?” Sanguine stained lips twitching at the corners. “Rather forward aren’t you?”

The purr present, easy and smooth. The softening of green vacancy into kind surety, the melting of basic flirtatious exteriors into the more gentle and caring interior. “As long as this is what you wish.”

Of course, all the world’s a stage, and ultimately we all have to play our roles in the masquerade.

“I’ve never been one to deny someone something that they want” He said, a couple steps back as he took to the lead once more. “Which direction was your place again?”

Truth and falsehood, diametric opposition. Though, complications arose easily. Which was him and which was fantasy? Implication and spacious void allowed him leniency with honeyed words, sweeter than reality but not full deceit. Lies never uttered, just careful designation on which angles of him were focused upon. So then, costume and person intermingled and coexisted, why not both be true at once?

Fusion, after all, was the combination of two absolutes into something unnatural, and stars were radiators of such a marriage.

Sophist dialogue ran in the case of Platoic deceit. If illumination upon the wall changed the image of the reflection, who was to say that it’d be absolute and not just a mirage of hallucinative imagination?

Oh, but the fate of man is but folly.

Graham made the mistake of looking upwards, stopping dead in his tracks.

“The light pollution is so much better on this side of town-”

Probably the most complex word that he’d said so far. “Might even be able to see the morning star from here, yeah? Instead of all th’ satellites.”

Eyes searching the dark expanse until they fell upon a single glimmer of faint light. “There’s the fecker, ain’t she lovely”

But with the type of adoration that not even his flirtatious nature imbued his words with.

“Didja know that Lucifer is named after Venus? Well, he’s called the Morning Star and when the scholars look to the sky they’d call Venus the Morning Star. Also, y’know, goddess of love and all that.”

Okay, maybe not quite as empty-headed as he might appear upon the surface. Knows a strange amount about stars and literature.

There was a long pause as for the first time, the gears seemed to finally be starting to turn in the rusted tin can of Graham's brain.

“Does that make Venus Lucifer’s drag persona?”

... He was an idiot.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[-ferret-]

"SHH!!"

Apollo leaned forward, his bracelet-clad hand coming up as if to cover Aurelian's traitor mouth, before remembering his manners at the last second. It didn't stop him from leaning past Aurelian's frame to look down the bar and see if the bartender had heard of his misgivings. It looked like he was safe though so he relaxed again, slumping like a puppet.

"I'll have you know that it's only like, two more months before this drinking permit is real!" Apollo hissed, putting on his I-swear-I'm-a-real-adult face.

His face twisted into a fairly unattractive scrunch of distaste after being told to "get lost" and "admire from afar". That was an A-class TV show reference and this guy hadn't even laughed.

"I guess one can't be faulted for acting the part. How's the next line go anyways? Something about, uh, 'you wouldn't leave a man with bread in his pants waiting'? Something like that. I don't have bread in my pants. I actually don't even have pockets. Which, have you ever tried to wear pants without pockets? It's quite a torturous thing. Whoever decided 'hey you know what would make pants even better? no pockets! but like, in an evil way!' and you know what the evil way is? Fake pockets!! Who does that? You know what that is? Sick and twisted. Sick-and-twisted! You know what's even sicker and twisted-er?" Apollo is fully drunk ranting at this point. "Tie-dye. God if I ever have to wear another tie-dye shirt or if I see a single pant mercilessly dyed tie for the views I will, in fact, lose my shit. I'm not kidding it's like the, Hot Take incoming bee-tee-dubs. It's like the Mac n' cheese with ketchup of the fashion world. Like yeah it was cool when we were kids. Simple to make, fascinating, changed the color of the original. But now? Now we realize 'Wow. That wasn't actually all that good' and we can move on to bigger and better things. Like Mac n' cheese and bacon. Have you ever had Mac n' cheese and bacon?" It's at this point that Apollo looked to Aurelian, awaiting a real answer.

 

[Qwertycakes]

MOOD: Chill

OUTFIT: faster pussycat kill kill

LOCATION: Another Round Irish Pub

basics

MENTIONS:


INT:

Colm CuChulainn

tags

tl;dr

Daisy Finnbar

Live fast, die young
Bad girls do it well

"Oooh, scaaary..," Daisy gently mocked the older fellow with a playful eye roll. "Stick a couple horns to your head, and I think you could pull off the sexy devil look quite well." The candid remark fell from her cherry painted lips before she had a chance to reconsider blurting it out, causing a light flush to spread across her face, thankfully hidden safely away beneath her dollar store cat mask.

The promise of free booze put a little bounce in her step as she made a gleeful beeline for the bottle of Jameson, as requested. "Really…" She asked thoughtfully, busying herself filling two cocktail glasses full of straight whiskey. Pouring quite a bit more than the typical two fingers that any normal, sane person would portion out to sip on. "What's your beef with Halloween anyway? Some ghost piss in your potato soup or something?"

She jokingly preened at the compliments on her costume, tossing back her high ponytail and doing a little twirl for Colm. "See, now that is tempting…" Daisy mused over the offer, sliding one of the glasses toward him as she appeared to mentally weigh the pros and cons.

"But nah," The brunette added abruptly. "Working's for suckers." She was only half joking; once you got seriously into the crime life, it was kinda hard to go back to the old upstanding citizen routine.

"Julian's?" She squeaked, hazel eyes lit up with recognition at his mention of the filthy rich, swanky party in the Hills. The news had Daisy nearly choking on her first sip, accidentally taking in a massive swig that burned all the way down. A delicate hand shooting up to cover her mouth as she spent the next few moments coughing up a lung.

"You're going to Julian's party? What for?? Doesn't really seem like your scene…" The girl could barely hide the growing pout that darkened her youthful features. Not only did she loathe Julian, but his lame party was threatening to take away Colm's attention for the night, when she was quietly hoping he'd have no plans, and want to spend his evening with her at the bar.

"Fine, whatever, I'm coming with you. Those Hollywood assholes will eat you alive," She scowled. Not only in distaste for the party, but for the whiskey burn as she threw back the rest of her glass and slammed it, triumphantly empty, facedown on the bar.

code by valen t.