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Realistic or Modern ๐•‹๐•™๐•– ๐•Ÿ๐•š๐•˜๐•™๐•ฅ ๐•ค๐•ฅ๐•’๐•ฃ๐•ค ๐•—๐•–๐•๐• -- roleplay

Characters
Here
fillerfillerfillfillerfillerfillerlerfilelifr 2:45 PM fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfilr
Logan
INTERACTIONS

Claire

MENTIONS

N/A

TAGS

jasmyn jasmyn



Alright. He fucked up. The look on Claireโ€™s face said everything he needed to know. It wasnโ€™t going to stop her from chewing him out. No. He knew that look. It was just the calm before the storm and the headache heโ€™d been nursing since he woke up still hadnโ€™t completely gone away. He pushed himself off the car and turned to face her. Ready for the ass reaming he was about to receive.

โ€œAre you actually serious right now?โ€

His head pounded as she spoke. The hurt behind her words was evident and he was immediately apologetic. He wasnโ€™t trying to be insensitive, but he was not father material. He might think very highly of himself. Heโ€™s fun at a party. Can charm the pants off anyone. And he was great in bed. Those were his claims to fame. Thatโ€™s all he had going for him.

What could an alcoholic drug addict have to offer a kid in the long run? Just a guaranteed life full of disappointment. โ€œClaire, Iโ€ฆโ€

"You're the only damn person I have slept with in months, of course it's yours,"

He winced as another sharp pain bolted through his head. He shook his head as if to reset his brain and hoped that it would stop throbbing. Yeah. He figured that out already. He knew it the moment that she said she was pregnant that he was the father. Why he said what he said was the exact reason he shouldnโ€™t have been allowed to procreate.

"But I get it. I'm such a whore that it must not be, right?โ€

Another jolt of pain felt like it was ricocheting off the sides of his skull.

โ€œI just came down here to tell you, of all people, that I am pregnant instead of one of the many other suitors I am screwing because I thought you'd make the best father out of all of them,"

His hand reached up to the side of his head as the pain in his head increased. His eyes squinted and his vision blurred. โ€œIโ€™mโ€ฆโ€

He stopped as she continued her rant. He tried focusing on her voice, but the pain in his head only allowed him to pick up a few words. She was pissed. Thatโ€™s all he really needed to know. His fingers massaged his temple in hopes that it would help ease the pain.

"You know, I would expect something like that from-" she stopped herself but only for a moment. "I didn't realize how much you and your brother think alike,"

โ€œLook...Iโ€™mโ€ฆโ€ A scream bellowed from his mouth as he collapsed to the ground. The pain became too unbearable to take. What the hell was happening? He gripped his head tightly. It felt like his brain was going to explode. Tears seeped down his face as he writhed in pain.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and shifted away from the touch as the pain started to fade out. He leaned back against the car. His vision slowly returned as he blinked frequently as if it would speed up the process. โ€œFuckโ€ฆโ€ He panted out as he felt himself returning to normal. The pain now just a dull ache in the back of his head. He swallowed hard and looked up at Claire. โ€œIโ€™m okay.โ€ He said, trying to reassure her. โ€œIโ€™m okay.โ€ He said, trying to reassure himself.





code by ditto (head empty go bonk)
 








Aster




MOOD: allyin
LOCATION: aster's place
OUTFIT: clothes
TAGS: ditto ditto
MENTIONS: n/a
"Shit!" Aster hissed with panicked eyes, meeting a rightfully astonished Brahm's gaze. The blonde man's primal fear instinct had unwillingly taken the lead, something not even he could hide from Aster. He couldn't even be satisfied with the weakness he'd forced upon the man constricting him, as it wasn't necessarily his intention going into this to make the move he did. He was overcome with fear and instilling that same feeling in the other man did nothing to ease it.

Even if he wanted to, Aster couldn't gloat long before the tendrils tightened around him. He lurched forward with as much force as he could through his restrains, coughing weakly with wide eyes. His hands darted to the rescue, desperately clawing at the ligature squeezing his throat to no avail. He stared at Brahm in horror as he struggled with what was going on in his head, pleading he snap out of it and let him go with strained croaks. Either Aster wasn't loud enough or the fear he'd induced in Brahm had gone too far, but this guy was really absorbed in mending his mental state instead of loosening his grip.

"You p-p...rov...ed your p-p...oint..." he wheezed, wincing as the tendrils dug into his skin tighter, "I'm s...o...rry..." The volume of his voice was pitifully low, despite how loud he wanted to scream for help. Aster had to hope this wasn't intentional and was merely a product of his impulsive decision to overreact to Brahm's display of power. Surely it wouldn't be in his benefit to kill Aster?

Aster gasped when Brahm released him, or at least took hold of him a little less tightly. He dropped his shoulders and breathed heavily to make up for what he'd just let his lungs go through. He entered a coughing fit, which was only prolonged by the way Brahm's thin extensions sunk into his flesh. He nodded when asked if he was the culprit of Brahm's bout of dazed panic, his eyes wet with tears from how hard he was coughing.

"It's a side effect," Aster shot back, slowly gaining the confidence to bluff right to Brahm's face. He life was completely in the man's handsโ€”that much was clearโ€”but he knew well of the risks he'd be facing before ever embarking on his journey to Wilmont. If he couldn't stare fear back in the eyes with a straight face, how could he ever hope to get stronger? All of his epiphanies and sleepless nights initially cursing his power would be in vain if he let himself succumb to his crippling fright once more. "A product of your fear, if you will," he added, deflecting from the fact that he'd just had a brush with death and pleaded for his life. You can sense fear. Not him. However intuitive he is, you've got the edge here.

His face filled with shock and outrage at Brahm's next words; Aster couldn't believe how nonchalantly he was lying through his teeth. As if a simple exhibition of his abilities required him to come off so sinister! "You call that a demonstration!?" he exclaimed, rubbing his wrists, which had bright red strips burned onto them due to the tendrils' iron grip, "That was more than a demonstration. In fact, I'd say even more than a display of power! You did that on purpose. To catch me off guard." Well, it worked.

Aster was unamused with Brahm's remarks. He crossed his arms, leering at the man who had just insulted the ability he was given. "I suppose you could call it that. Although, I must say..." Aster paused, watching Brahm mindlessly manipulate the writhin appendages coming out of his body. He couldn't suppress a look of disgust, as though Brahm was messing with gnarled, two foot long fingernails like those ladies on reality television. "Normally, I'm pretty decent at deducing specific fears. You, though, I couldn't get a good enough read on. This might be a bit disadvantageous to share, but it really hinders my abilities."

His face scrunched up as he scrutinized every angle of Brahm's face, digging for any reaction to what he'd said. Aster didn't expect much, because he knew Brahm knew exactly what he was talking about. "You're hiding a lot. And it's clear as day." Aster spoke coldly, but with no hint of threat or ill-intent in his voice. Enough games. "Whatever that is, you can't expect to be trusted so easily based on convincing smiles alone."

He looked down at Brahm's hand, then back up to his face, hesitating over whether or not to appear hesitant. At first, it seemed like some bizarre joke to form a partnership with two people who had obviously gotten off to a bad start. Even so, they both likely knew they'd get further in their respective pursuits working together, as other people with powers would be hard to come by. Brahm's motives were questionable, and Aster couldn't be so sure it was as simple as getting stronger, but at the end of the day he was his only lead.

After a few pensive moments, Aster broke through the tension and reached out to give Aster a weak handshake. "Deal. I think we can be a lot of help to each other." It felt odd seeing Brahm without things coming out of his back, despite him only displaying his power for a few minutes max. Aster wondered what he looked like to Brahm while he used his power; did he just look like he was spacing out? Or was it the opposite? Perhaps it was a face of intense concentration. Or completely normal, which would make the most sense considering Aster had used his power knowingly and unknowingly numerous times in public.

Aster sighed, realizing this alliance met he had to at least offer something to Brahm, who had at least sort of answered all of the questions he'd thrown at him. "In that case, let me start over: I'm Aster Clark. I'm twenty-two and from Boston. I've had this powerโ€”fear inducement, as you call itโ€”for a little over a year now." Now the hard part. "Why I'm here, who's really to say? I could lie to you just as you did to me. But it seems like you've pretty much got the gist of it down. And maybe a part of me isn't so sure." The dark-haired man laughed softly, a genuine smile forming on his face for just a moment. "To tell you the truth, you're right. I don't really have much else going on."

"So, are you really a botany student?"
he queried, eyeing the blonde man curiously, a faint trace of suspicion lingering in the air.

code by low fidelity.


"Shit!" Aster hissed with panicked eyes, meeting a rightfully astonished Brahm's gaze. The blonde man's primal fear instinct had unwillingly taken the lead, something not even he could hide from Aster. He couldn't even be satisfied with the weakness he'd forced upon the man constricting him, as it wasn't necessarily his intention going into this to make the move he did. He was overcome with fear and instilling that same feeling in the other man did nothing to ease it.

Even if he wanted to, Aster couldn't gloat long before the tendrils tightened around him. He lurched forward with as much force as he could through his restrains, coughing weakly with wide eyes. His hands darted to the rescue, desperately clawing at the ligature squeezing his throat to no avail. He stared at Brahm in horror as he struggled with what was going on in his head, pleading he snap out of it and let him go with strained croaks. Either Aster wasn't loud enough or the fear he'd induced in Brahm had gone too far, but this guy was really absorbed in mending his mental state instead of loosening his grip.

"You p-p...rov...ed your p-p...oint..." he wheezed, wincing as the tendrils dug into his skin tighter, "I'm s...o...rry..." The volume of his voice was pitifully low, despite how loud he wanted to scream for help. Aster had to hope this wasn't intentional and was merely a product of his impulsive decision to overreact to Brahm's display of power. Surely it wouldn't be in his benefit to kill Aster?

Aster gasped when Brahm released him, or at least took hold of him a little less tightly. He dropped his shoulders and breathed heavily to make up for what he'd just let his lungs go through. He entered a coughing fit, which was only prolonged by the way Brahm's thin extensions sunk into his flesh. He nodded when asked if he was the culprit of Brahm's bout of dazed panic, his eyes wet with tears from how hard he was coughing.

"It's a side effect," Aster shot back, slowly gaining the confidence to bluff right to Brahm's face. He life was completely in the man's handsโ€”that much was clearโ€”but he knew well of the risks he'd be facing before ever embarking on his journey to Wilmont. If he couldn't stare fear back in the eyes with a straight face, how could he ever hope to get stronger? All of his epiphanies and sleepless nights initially cursing his power would be in vain if he let himself succumb to his crippling fright once more. "A product of your fear, if you will," he added, deflecting from the fact that he'd just had a brush with death and pleaded for his life. You can sense fear. Not him. However intuitive he is, you've got the edge here.

His face filled with shock and outrage at Brahm's next words; Aster couldn't believe how nonchalantly he was lying through his teeth. As if a simple exhibition of his abilities required him to come off so sinister! "You call that a demonstration!?" he exclaimed, rubbing his wrists, which had bright red strips burned onto them due to the tendrils' iron grip, "That was more than a demonstration. In fact, I'd say even more than a display of power! You did that on purpose. To catch me off guard." Well, it worked.

Aster was unamused with Brahm's remarks. He crossed his arms, leering at the man who had just insulted the ability he was given. "I suppose you could call it that. Although, I must say..." Aster paused, watching Brahm mindlessly manipulate the writhin appendages coming out of his body. He couldn't suppress a look of disgust, as though Brahm was messing with gnarled, two foot long fingernails like those ladies on reality television. "Normally, I'm pretty decent at deducing specific fears. You, though, I couldn't get a good enough read on. This might be a bit disadvantageous to share, but it really hinders my abilities."

His face scrunched up as he scrutinized every angle of Brahm's face, digging for any reaction to what he'd said. Aster didn't expect much, because he knew Brahm knew exactly what he was talking about. "You're hiding a lot. And it's clear as day." Aster spoke coldly, but with no hint of threat or ill-intent in his voice. Enough games. "Whatever that is, you can't expect to be trusted so easily based on convincing smiles alone."

He looked down at Brahm's hand, then back up to his face, hesitating over whether or not to appear hesitant. At first, it seemed like some bizarre joke to form a partnership with two people who had obviously gotten off to a bad start. Even so, they both likely knew they'd get further in their respective pursuits working together, as other people with powers would be hard to come by. Brahm's motives were questionable, and Aster couldn't be so sure it was as simple as getting stronger, but at the end of the day he was his only lead.

After a few pensive moments, Aster broke through the tension and reached out to give Aster a weak handshake. "Deal. I think we can be a lot of help to each other." It felt odd seeing Brahm without things coming out of his back, despite him only displaying his power for a few minutes max. Aster wondered what he looked like to Brahm while he used his power; did he just look like he was spacing out? Or was it the opposite? Perhaps it was a face of intense concentration. Or completely normal, which would make the most sense considering Aster had used his power knowingly and unknowingly numerous times in public.

Aster sighed, realizing this alliance met he had to at least offer something to Brahm, who had at least sort of answered all of the questions he'd thrown at him. "In that case, let me start over: I'm Aster Clark. I'm twenty-two and from Boston. I've had this powerโ€”fear inducement, as you call itโ€”for a little over a year now." Now the hard part. "Why I'm here, who's really to say? I could lie to you just as you did to me. But it seems like you've pretty much got the gist of it down. And maybe a part of me isn't so sure." The dark-haired man laughed softly, a genuine smile forming on his face for just a moment. "To tell you the truth, you're right. I don't really have much else going on."

"So, are you really a botany student?"
he queried, eyeing the blonde man curiously, a faint trace of suspicion lingering in the air.
 
mood :
Still got the spirit

location :
Woods
outfit :

Da fit
mentions :
None

interactions :
hery hery , ditto ditto
Hayes
;; Alex
Watching the two socially inept teenagers try to make it through a simple McDonalds over was, as was expected, a painful experience. One which Alex spent debating wether it would be better to butt in and help them with the order, or to just let them make it through themselves to spare them the embarassment of needing his help. It was something he would never judge them for - everyone had their quirks and problems, theirs just happened to be social interaction. But he understood why others could find it weird or shameful. It was pitiful though, that he could admit. The overly-social boy couldn't imagine what life would be like with the constant fear of speaking to strangers, or really just speaking in general.

Uncomfortable moment over and done with, thank God, they set off once more. Alex listening with interest as Sam finally acknowledged his question and explained why they were there in the first place. Which was, of course, treasure hunting.

Wait, what?

Of all the possible ways to spend their time in the entire world, each and every single activity a group of friends could do in their small town, treasure hunting was not one he'd expected to hear. Much less from people like Sam and Lex. People who, he assumed, spent most of their time inside with their comic books and video games. Not outside in the woods looking for a dead rich guy's treasure. Because, well... who came up with ideas like that? Sam and Lex did. And Alex loved it.

"Shit dude, are you for real?" Alex replied, so excited he almost knocked his soda over himself as he grabbed on to the back of their seats, his face now between of two boys. "Alright! I knew going out with you two was a good idea!"

He didn't care much about the local history Lex talked about, or the cash to be honest (although some extra would be cool, he really wanted his own car). Just the appeal of doing something new. An activity that was completely out of the ordinary and broke them free of their boring, monotone routines. Finally an adventure that wasn't just getting high in the skate parks or throwing around a ball in the park. And maybethey , just maybe, they would be able to come back with something valuable. Something to show everything else that they weren't just stupid teens wasting their time instead of studying or working like a good member of society.

But not everything was new. Especially the two other people in the car, still going on about their comic books. Lex especially, who even went as far as to offer his own collection. "Ight, I could give them a go." He said, a small knot in his abdomen forming out of the guilt of that little white lie. He hadn't outright promised to read them, but he knew that even if the comics were more drawing than actual writing and dialogue, he probably wouldn't read them. Unless Lex actually lent them to him. Just for a friend, he was sure he could muster through a page or two.

It wasn't long after that the group finally arrived to their destination. Faster and in better shape than Alex expected, especially considering Sam's less-than-impresive driving skills. In the trunk of the car laid two metal detectors, which Alex quipped looked just like the ones in the movies, and a shovel he assumed was meant for him. Slightly hurt that he wouldn't be able to play with the cool metal detectors and was stuck with a simple shovel, Alex followed the others. He knew Sam probably didn't want him tampering with the equipment. Both because of his... well, everything, and because it simply made more logical sence that Alex be the one to carry the shovel and do the physical labor. At the very least, shoveling dirt around was more interesting than watching movies at Lex's place with is mom.

"Yo wait up, I want a pic of this!" He explained, taking out his phone in the process and extending his hand. Giving the camera a charming smile with the shovel over his shoulder with the other two in the background. "No pic and it didn't happen, right?"


coded by reveriee.
 
there is not
always a good guy

nor is there
always a bad one

most people are
somewhere in between

BRAHM LOVELESS
Mood
โ€ข Casually chattin' โ€ข

Location
โ€ข Laundry โ€ข

Mentions
โ€ข N/A โ€ข

Interactions
โ€ข Aster โ€ข

Tags
โ€ข hery hery โ€ข


As Aster reached out to give meet Brahmโ€™s hand halfway, Brahmโ€™s smile broadened. โ€œAhโ€™m glad that weโ€™re in agreement,โ€ he responded, gripping his hand tightly and giving it a firm shake. His smile showed no sign of hesitation or fear; instead, it beamed charmingly at Aster in a nearly dopey way, like a grin on a dumb, jock-ish heartthrob in a cliche teen movie. Though there was no sign of apprehension in Brahmโ€™s face, he noted that the same could not have been said about Asterโ€™s. Hesitationโ€” and more than simple hesitation, at thatโ€” were written throughout his expressionโ€” and off of his expression, scribbled in the margins and flowing off of the pages and into his general stance. Asterโ€™s face betrayed him, showing that deep, visceral fear that Brahm had been seeking to instill this whole timeโ€” not for any particularly malicious intent, but simply because Brahm knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that fear was simply more effective than friendliness.

Brahm released the other manโ€™s hand, studying him as he took a step back and lowered himself back onto the bed. As Aster spoke, he brought his hand to feel the back of his fluffy robe, and he tried his best not to sigh as he felt the holes that his tendrils had poked into it. Damn it. He needed to work on controlling the projection speed just enough to make it break the skin and not the fabric of whatever he was wearing.

(Now that he was in an alliance, he wondered, could he ask Aster to mend the holes? It wouldnโ€™t be that Herculanean of a task.)

Though he perhaps seemed unfocused, Brahmโ€™s eyes remained on Aster, his ears catching and holding onto every detail of Asterโ€™s speech. The tempo at which the words were said, the tone with which they were said, the particular meter of his phrases, and the short pauses in-between the sentences, as well as the subtle peaks in the pitch where Asterโ€™s fear peeked through the curtains of his feeble attempt at appearing wholly calm, all caught Brahmโ€™s attention, and he ascribed it to his memory. He was trying to learn Asterโ€™s language like he knew his own; he knew that therein lied the subtleties of all of his emotions. The sooner that he learned theseโ€” the sooner that he built up his repertoire and the more that he understood Asterโ€” the sooner that he would be able to understand everything about the situations that his new partner was in. He would know distress by as little as a singular word, and he would know joy by the pauses; he would know anger by the breath that he took to begin a sentence, and he would know his happiness by the lilt. He would be able to construct sentences that the man said within his mind, even without him saying them; he would be able to deconstruct the words that he did say in order to do so.

Every detailโ€” every subtle movement that the man tookโ€” Brahm took in. The way that corner of his lips curled upward as he tried to convey that he wasnโ€™t afraid, even though he surely was, was something particularly of interest, and it changed suddenly, in a short flick, as a genuine smile broke out on his face for an instant. The words that he said seemed unrelated to this smile, so something must have happened within to cause it. He would have to try to decipher the meaning of this smile later, perhaps, because now, Aster spoke to him with a question, after his seemingly genuine (though not without a shadow of a doubt) monologue on who he was:

โ€œSo, are you really a botany student?โ€

Brahm stared at him for a moment, and then his question registered with him, and he could not help but laugh. This laugh was much louder than the others that he had laughed beforeโ€” this one was much heartier and sounded far more genuine. โ€œThatโ€™s tha question yer askin' me?โ€ he asked, raising an eyebrow before laughing again. His hand dropped from his back, ceasing its task to decide what size each of the holes were in his garment. โ€œOut of all thayngs?โ€

Brahm laughed again, shaking his head. โ€œNah, youโ€™ve done a whole lot moreโ€™n that ta tell me, anโ€™ Ahโ€™m not one ta leave myself indebted ta others.โ€ There was a certain irony in his words there; after all, his first interaction with the man had been him asking for change for his laundry fee. However, there was not a sign that he had said this phrase in any way other than genuinely. โ€œAhโ€™ll start from tha start as well.โ€

He cleared his throat, smiling at Aster. โ€œAhโ€™m Abraham Loveless the second. Ah go by Brahm, naturally, as my old man goes by Abe, though if ya wanna call me Abe, be my guest. Ah offen say, โ€˜You cun call me anythinโ€™, jusโ€™ so long as that anythinโ€™ ainโ€™t late ta dinner.โ€™โ€ He chuckled, and then continued. โ€œAhโ€™m twenny anโ€™ from New Madrid, Missouri.โ€ He pronounced the way of his town the way that he had been raised to: Mah-drid, not Muh-drid, with emphasis on the Mah. (It was the way that natives to his town pronounced it.) โ€œAhโ€™ve hadโ€ฆweyellโ€ฆAh donโ€™ 'xactly know what ta call itโ€ฆthese, ahโ€ฆputayta pahhrs, Ah guess you cโ€™d say...fer a much shorter time than you've had yer powers.โ€ (The word powers there had almost been rendered indiscernable by his strong accent.) โ€œAh said why Ahโ€™m here, in all honestyโ€” Ahโ€™m here ta get stronger, anโ€™ thatโ€™s that.โ€

He stood. โ€œAs fer my professionโ€” or, rather, my profession ta comeโ€” Ahโ€™ll say that, yeah, Ahโ€™m actually a botโ€™ny studentโ€” plant science, botโ€™ny, same difference, ya know.โ€ His smile broadened. โ€œWhahโ€™s that tha fact ya wanted ta knowโ€” Ah mean, of all thinโ€™s fer me ta lie about?โ€ He laughed again, shaking his head. โ€œYeah, Ahโ€™m actually a plant science student. Ahโ€™ve just begun pursuing thisโ€ฆlessee, Ah took a gap year, soโ€ฆsince last year. Not so long, anโ€™ Ahโ€™m not super far inta it, but Ah have a passion fer it. Maybe thatโ€™s why my pahhrโ€™s what it isโ€” maybe it was in tha stars.โ€

He laughed again. โ€œโ€˜gardless of that fact, Ah donโ€™t really know where Ahโ€™m goinโ€™ either, but Ah know fer sure that Ahโ€™m goinโ€™ up. Ahโ€™m not tha mosโ€™ pahhrful, but Ah know how ta get thereโ€” anโ€™ now, Ahโ€™ve got you fer tha journey.โ€ Brahm grinned at his partner. โ€œAnโ€™, in full transparency, Ah think that Ah appreciate that more thโ€™n gettinโ€™ ta mah goal on mah own.โ€ He gave him another once-over. โ€œAll Ah ask is that ya put yer full faith in me, anโ€™ Ahโ€™ll put mah full faith in you. Sure, we cโ€™n pursue are own goals individuallyโ€” self-sacrifice never got nobody nowhere โ€˜xcept in tha grave, 'specially sacrifice of oneโ€™s own moralsโ€” but one thing we musโ€™ do is be able ta trust tha other.โ€

The way he spoke made one thing clear: even in a โ€œsymbioticโ€ relationshipโ€” even in an alliance or a partnershipโ€” Brahm was one to be in command. He took charge of a conversation that he was supposed to be bowing in; he was relatively unaffected by the โ€œcurveballsโ€ that Aster tried to throw. Brahm was composed, collected, and, most of all, knew exactly where he was going.

Thus, it was more of a request to Aster: follow him. Follow him into the great futureโ€” be on his side, whatever that side was, and he would be on his.

All it would take was a simple word, and Aster could have the world.

Would he take it? Brahm supposed that that was up to him to decide.

If he refused the offer, though, Brahm wasnโ€™t sure how much longer the thin barrier that was keeping the two from unleashing their full potentials on one another would last.


code by ditto (head empty go bonk)
 
Last edited:
fillerfillerfillfillerfillerfillerlerfilelifr 2:45 PM fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfilr
Camila
INTERACTIONS

Val

MENTIONS

N/A

TAGS

Soap Soap



Cam didn't know what to do. She didn't know what to say. She found herself standing there, back glued against the counter, her hands clenching the edge, fingers digging into the underside of the countertop while her gaze remained, unwavering, on Val. Her thoughts, her feelings, everything was all so jumbled up, but one thought reigned supreme over everything else.

How does she know?

The tension built between the two of them until the tea kettle went off, whistling away, and the tension broke as Val broke eye contact to get the kettle. Cam, however, still felt frozen in place, her gaze following and watching as her sister moved about to make their tea. Eventually, she pulled her gaze away and instead leveled it to the floor.

She glanced up again as V made her way over to take a seat at the counter. Cam hesitated before she pushed away from the counter, her cereal forgotten on the counter, as she walked over to join Val. She slid into the seat beside her and looked down at the tea cup, glancing over at the honey spoon before she shook her head and, instead, just placed her hands against the warm ceramic of the mug.

"Yes," Cam admitted and she was... only... partially lying. Although she hadn't remained at the cemetery all night, nor had she bothered to visit her mother's gravestone -- seeing it still caused a sharp knife of pain to slice through her heart -- she had visited it for a sliver of time. All of her nightly excursions started with a brief trip to the cemetery for new clues or leads from the various ghosts.

Can't tell her I was talking to dead people, though -- she'll think I'm crazy.

Camila already thought she was crazy. She didn't need her sister admitting to her a hospital or something because she was suddenly stating that she could talk to dead people. Cam already knew how it would go -- everyone would think that she was making it up, or that she was handling the death of their mother poorly, or this or that and... and...

I can't deal with that.

"I just, ahh... wanted to tell her good night." That seemed like a reasonable enough lie.

Cam brought the cup up to her lips, taking a sip of the burning liquid that scalded her tongue as it went down her throat. She set it back down but kept her hands pressed against the warm sides. Instead of the warm tea doing what it was supposed to do -- comfort her, make her feel better, all of that -- it just... made her realize how much she missed their mother.

She kept her gaze on the mug, her eyes following the trails of steam that billowed from the top of. She swallowed the lump in her throat, although her gaze started to grow bleary.

How have I not found her yet?

"That's... all I was doing, I promise..." Cam mumbled and it stung how easy the lying was getting to be.

She brought a hand up to rub at her eyes and prevent the flow of tears before they could start. With a shaky smile, she looked towards Val, although the smile soon faltered as that same thought resurface to the forefront of her mind.

"How did you know that's where I was?"


code by ditto (head empty go bonk)
 





lucky adrian.
The man looked down at his bank account on the cracked screen of his phone. One could say that he was astonished but not by much. After the whole spear thing he was thoroughly convinced that there was something special, albeit weird, was going on. Still, he decided to do it again, just for good measure. He built up the will to make it happen, which was simultaneously easy and hard for him. Lucky was getting used to the feeling but it left him with a headache. Once he had the intent in his gut he spoke on it.

"I need ten thousand US dollars..." Lucky said, clear as crystal in the middle of the sidewalk while everyone else walked around him. Pulling down on the top of his phone screen, Lucky refreshed his account statement and found the money he'd already had was doubled successfully. He rolled his eyes and started walking in the general direction of the crowd.

He didn't want to use his power in such a sleazy manner, but it was the easiest and most logical method for him to use. He turned onto the street leading to the mall and sped up his walk.

"Might as well spend it," he said cockily. Swiping off of the bank app, he went to the phone section and started dialing one of his close friends. He felt like sharing the love, not aware of the ramifications of his new 'gift' would have on his destiny--let alone everyone else's.
 
1d9ddc4dfa15f4f6652cd2d085e647fb3e59314c.gif
tumblr_inline_pbx3p5gnJu1t9ndkh_540.gif
HELLO
MY NAME IS
LUCIO
He knew he should've gone to a different store.

His chair screeched against the large tiled-floor when Lucioโ€™s chair jerked back nearly a foot away from the table. Ariaโ€™s sudden unexpected appearance had startled him, but Lucio didnโ€™t mean to move his chair that much. In fact, he was sure he didnโ€™t move his chair at all. His Funko doll shadow was also alarmed when Aria appeared, having dropped its half-eaten croissant beside Lucioโ€™s feet to try shoving one leg of said chair. Lucio gripped on the edge of the table to stay put.

โ€œI... I was going to eventually,โ€ He answered hesitantly. He wasnโ€™t lying about wanting to reply to her messagesโ€”he just wasnโ€™t sure when or how he should do it. Even though he knew he should have, Lucio wasnโ€™t prepared for this confrontation. He hoped that once heโ€™d gotten his powers under enough control, he would try to look for Aria and explain his absence. That probably wouldโ€™ve taken more than one month for that to happen, though, and he knew Aria wasnโ€™t the most patient person in Wilmont. She was definitely pissed at him, and he didnโ€™t blame her.

โ€œLook, things have got really complicated lately.โ€ His chair jerked back another inch or two. And then another after he tried to scoot back closer to the table. Lucio glanced down at the Shadow, which glared up at him. He tried kicking it away while keeping his attention on Aria, but it dodged his foot.

โ€œItโ€™s not easy for me to explainโ€”โ€ The Shadow grabbed his leg and pulled Lucio out of the chair, making him look like he impulsively and clumsily fell over himself.

โ€œButnotrightnow!โ€ he blurted in a rush. As if being driven by an invisible force that wasnโ€™t his own, Lucio grabbed his backpack off of the floor, and, leaving behind his coffee and half-eaten sandwich on the table, he quickly stumbled out of the store without looking back. This time, without feeling like itโ€™s against his will, he ran. That short confrontation could not have gotten any worse.

Lucio bumped past three or four people along the sidewalk. He wasnโ€™t sure where to go until he spotted an empty alleyway nearby. So, he squeezed past two parallel parked cars and dashed across the street.

Mention: Aria Winona Winona
 

Elizabeth Bailey

Ah, the sweet taste of being a really bad influence to her youngest sibling. Elizabeth somewhat prided herself in being a rather horrible role model to her siblings, especially with Atticus. Sure, she always encouraged her little brother to succeed and go for his dreams and all the other sappy shit that could be featured in a Hallmark birthday card. But beyond that, Eliza wanted her family to have fun. They had already spent so much of their time worrying about rules and appearances and reputations and, in Elizabethโ€™s eyes, life was far too short not to get a little wild sometimes.

Carefully closing the door behind her so that she wouldnโ€™t disturb her other siblings elsewhere in the house, Liz made her way to the window and carefully hoisted herself up by the top of the frame before she swung her way through the empty opening. Once on the roof, Liz pushed the window almost all the way closed, leaving just a crack so that she could open it again to get back in.

Following Atti across the edge of the roof, Liz plopped down beside him and let her feet dangle off the edge, leaning back onto the wall of the house behind them. Tilting her head back to rest against the paneling, a soft smile lightened up Lizโ€™s tired face as she reached into the front pockets of her jeans.

โ€œActually, today was โ€˜oh Elizabeth you amazing and clearly favourite child of the family. How I do adore you so. Keep up the good work my lovely daughter with incredibly high ambitions. You will single handedly carry on the Bailey genes and one day, when I am old and grey, I will kneel before you and thank you for being such an amazing person!โ€™โ€ Elizabeth laughed sarcastically as she threw on her impression of their mother which happened to be quite accurate. โ€œLogan actually let me go early today. I was gonna come home and actually not disgrace our mother for a change but I figured that being the family fuckup is the only thing Iโ€™ve got going for me and I am nothing if not consistent.โ€

With her fingers grabbing onto the blunt in her pocket, Liz pulled the object free with one swift motion, twirling it around between her fingers like a pencil as she fished around in her other pocket for her lighter. Once she lit up the blunt, Eliza took a long, deep drag before handing it carefully to Atticus.

โ€œDonโ€™t tell mom Iโ€™m being a bad influence again.โ€ Eliza teased with a wiggle of her eyebrows, knowing full well that Atticus would never be some lame nark or a stickler for every rule in the books. Atticus wasnโ€™t like their sisters. Liz loved her sisters but after everything that had happened, in the prior years, Eliza couldnโ€™t help but feel like it was just her and Atti against the entire damn world.

โ€œSo, what have you been up to today?โ€ Eliza asked as she brushed some of the dirt off of her work jeans with her calloused fingers. โ€œDo anything fun? I almost had a car drop on my head, that was pretty rad.โ€

Ah yes, Liz, use the small talk to avoid the admitting that family torture dinner was right around the corner. You go, big sis.

| atticus mogy mogy |

TEMPLATE ยฉ BOKEH
 
the urge to
save humanity

is almost always
a false

front for the
urge to rule

SAM MAEGER
Mood
[ Exploring time ]

Location
[ The woods ]

Mentions
[ N/A ]

Interactions
[ Lex, Alex ]

Tags
[ hery hery fancries1 fancries1 ]


โ€œAlright, letโ€™s pile out,โ€ Sam said, giving a firm nod and popping open his door as he swallowed his last bite. He looked at his keys in the ignition, considering taking them out but not wanting the struggle with having them stick to him for whatever inexplicable reason that they always chose to, and he decided to just slam his door shut and walk away. Cool people werenโ€™t afraid of grand theft auto, anyway.

They also put on sunglasses and walked away from explosions, and Sam had a pair of sunglasses hanging from hisโ€”

He patted his shirt.

Ohโ€ฆ

Well, there went his cool guy thing.

Whatever. Whoever wanted to steal a 2016 Buick filled with greasy, half-eaten McDonaldโ€™s meals most likely had bigger fish to fry. His Buick, while a very cool car, wasnโ€™t worth stealing like, say, a doorless Jeep or something.

Well, actuallyโ€ฆ

He would want to steal his Buick. It was aโ€ฆreal ladykiller, honestly. He picked upโ€ฆall the chicks in it.

Or, well, he would. If he had social skillsโ€” orโ€ฆactually, he had those, butโ€” if others would actually look his way.

He moved to the trunk and popped it open, grabbing his new, shiny metal detector and slamming the trunk short after everyone grabbed their materials, holding it gently as he would have a newborn baby. It might as well have been, okay? Anyone who had given birth hadnโ€™t felt any pain nearly comparable to the pain that heโ€™d gone through trying to convince his mom to buy not one but two metal detectors and a shovel without any explanation.

He stopped short of heading into the woods when he didnโ€™t hear the jockโ€™s footsteps following. He looked over his shoulder, expression drawn in and confused.

So he was one of those guys.

Sam gave an awkward his best smile to the camera, holding up a peace sign in his right hand as he left babied the metal detector.

โ€œLex!โ€ he called after his friend, trying not to run with the metal detector and instead opting to briskly walk. โ€œWait up!โ€

He found him not too far in, and Sam came to a stop, out of breath and hunkered over already. Despite his large size, the boy was far from muscular or athleticโ€” he was too awkward and clumsy to so much as run without falling or twisting his ankleโ€” so it was rather unsurprising how little it took to wind him, but he whined about it inwardly, anyway. โ€œDโ€ฆโ€ He gasped for air. โ€œDid youโ€ฆbring theโ€ฆmap weโ€ฆ.talked aboutโ€ฆLex?โ€ he asked. โ€œBecauseโ€ฆโ€ He swallowed hard, trying to heave in breaths. โ€œIโ€ฆdidnโ€™t bringโ€ฆmine...โ€

Sam stood up straight, still panting, and he tried to find the power button on his metal detector. There was no way that they would put it on something so easily accessible as the monitor of the machine. That would be to obvious of a design. Ya know, anyone could come up with that, and it also wouldn't look as cool, and if there were two things that a good metal detector was, it was original and cool. "How...do you turn this thing...on?" he asked, turning it over and over again until he finally looked at the obvious placeโ€” the monitor.

"Oh."

Well, there was the button.

He clicked it, and the lights on the screen went white as a spinning grey circle showed up on the monitor. He stared at it for a second before looking up at Lex. "You need some...help turning it on?" Sam asked, still out of breath. It wasn't that he didn't have any faith in his friend, but he just knew that if someone as intellectual as himself could be fooled by such a deceiving placement of a power button, then someone as...well, then Lex would be fooled by it, too. "Itโ€”"

PIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPI

Jumping slightly at the sudden noise, Sam looked at the metal detector's monitor, only to see a big, red sheet over the entire screen.

He looked at Lex excitedly. "Sweet! Bro, I think we already hit the motherload!" he cheered over the PIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPI of the metal detector. His heart pounded in his throat. "A-Alex! Come here with the shovel, man!"

They'd definitely already found the treasure!

Score!


code by ditto (head empty go bonk)
 








Lex




MOOD: detecting metallically
LOCATION: the woods
OUTFIT: clothes
TAGS: ditto ditto fancries1 fancries1
MENTIONS: Alex, Sam
Lex stopped in his tracks at the sound of Alex's voice. Out of sheer excitement, he'd already made it a moderate distance from the others toward the woods, so he struck a pose in the background. Deeming it a fitting move, Lex angrily shook his metal detector at the sky, looking like a proper dork. Immediately afterward, he ventured further into the woods, leaving his two friends to catch up with him.

The blonde boy came to a halt and turned around once Sam reached his position, nearly wacking the much taller boy with the metal detector the was holding. He silently and awkwardly watched him as he caught his breath, feeling a pang of guilt for making him exert himself so much. He couldn't quite catch everything Sam was saying through his large gasps of air, but the mention of the map instantly triggered a look of alarm in his face.

"Th-the map!?" he cried, patting his jacket down in a vain attempt to discover a piece of paper he knew deep down that he didn't have on him, "Uh, no, but I figured we could, uh, make our own map. Like cartographers." Out loud it sounded a lot more stupid than he'd intended. How was Lex supposed to know that Sam would go about it more practically!? "I... forgot the paper, though," he admitted lamely, pulling out and observing a now-useless pen out of his jeans pocket.

What a letdown. And Lex was looking forward to mapping out the treasure spots more than actually finding them. Was it discussed that Lex would be the one to bring the mapping materials? Actually, had he even discussed that with the others? "Sorry..."

Lex watched with shame as Sam fiddled with the metal detector, unable to take his mind off of the fact that he'd totally dropped the ball with their adventure. Now they'd just be running in aimless circles, with no proper documentation at all! What fun was that?

Once questioned about how to turn the thing on, Lex reached out a finger to point out the "on" button on the monitor. "I think it's right th-" He quickly retracted his hand when Sam finally figured it out himself, smiling as a means of congratulating him for his intuition.

"Sure, could you get it for me?" Lex requested, holding his metal detector out to Sam. He'd already figured it out himself, but Sam seemed to get some satisfaction from knowing how to operate the thing and he didn't want to step all over that. After all, it was Sam's metal detector he was borrowing, so he owed it to the guy to let him take the lead. Before Sam could turn Lex's metal detector on, it let out a piercing staccato of beeps that triggered a sharp yelp from Lex and sent him stumbling backwards. As the noise blared, he felt like his heart had just been struck by lightning and it beat at the pace of a hummingbird's.

Lex placed a hand over his chest, feeling his slowly declining heart rate. Even through his shirt, the electric tingling on his fingers just barely pricked at his skin. He looked back over to Sam, lowering his metal detector and smiling wide when he realized what this beeping meant. "That's great, man!" he cheered, with no other choice but to regain his composure and continue with the charade. And that's why you turn down the sensitivity first. Why didn't I crank his too!?

"Whaddya think it's gonna be?" he asked into the air, fidgeting nervously, "There's no way we got the real deal this fast, dude. That's so lucky." He looked down at the ground, curious if he was worrying all for nothing. Maybe it was his belt buckle? Or maybe his powers didn't screw with the electromagnetic wave whateverness of the metal detector after all and he was overestimating himself. Perhaps it really was some sort of metal object down below and, with luck, onf of Bachman's sweet, sweet loads of cash. "I wonder if it's straight cash or, like, diamonds and stuff. Do you think he was a gold or silver kind of guy?"

Suddenly, Lex wished he was a pirate. But with the recent development of his abilities, it might just a tad dangerous to go hang in ocean water around a bunch of other people.

code by low fidelity.

Lex stopped in his tracks at the sound of Alex's voice. Out of sheer excitement, he'd already made it a moderate distance from the others toward the woods, so he struck a pose in the background. Deeming it a fitting move, Lex angrily shook his metal detector at the sky, looking like a proper dork. Immediately afterward, he ventured further into the woods, leaving his two friends to catch up with him.

The blonde boy came to a halt and turned around once Sam reached his position, nearly wacking the much taller boy with the metal detector the was holding. He silently and awkwardly watched him as he caught his breath, feeling a pang of guilt for making him exert himself so much. He couldn't quite catch everything Sam was saying through his large gasps of air, but the mention of the map instantly triggered a look of alarm in his face.

"Th-the map!?" he cried, patting his jacket down in a vain attempt to discover a piece of paper he knew deep down that he didn't have on him, "Uh, no, but I figured we could, uh, make our own map. Like cartographers." Out loud it sounded a lot more stupid than he'd intended. How was Lex supposed to know that Sam would go about it more practically!? "I... forgot the paper, though," he admitted lamely, pulling out and observing a now-useless pen out of his jeans pocket.

What a letdown. And Lex was looking forward to mapping out the treasure spots more than actually finding them. Was it discussed that Lex would be the one to bring the mapping materials? Actually, had he even discussed that with the others? "Sorry..."

Lex watched with shame as Sam fiddled with the metal detector, unable to take his mind off of the fact that he'd totally dropped the ball with their adventure. Now they'd just be running in aimless circles, with no proper documentation at all! What fun was that?

Once questioned about how to turn the thing on, Lex reached out a finger to point out the "on" button on the monitor. "I think it's right th-" He quickly retracted his hand when Sam finally figured it out himself, smiling as a means of congratulating him for his intuition.

"Sure, could you get it for me?" Lex requested, holding his metal detector out to Sam. He'd already figured it out himself, but Sam seemed to get some satisfaction from knowing how to operate the thing and he didn't want to step all over that. After all, it was Sam's metal detector he was borrowing, so he owed it to the guy to let him take the lead. Before Sam could turn Lex's metal detector on, it let out a piercing staccato of beeps that triggered a sharp yelp from Lex and sent him stumbling backwards. As the noise blared, he felt like his heart had just been struck by lightning and it beat at the pace of a hummingbird's.

Lex placed a hand over his chest, feeling his slowly declining heart rate. Even through his shirt, the electric tingling on his fingers just barely pricked at his skin. He looked back over to Sam, lowering his metal detector and smiling wide when he realized what this beeping meant. "That's great, man!" he cheered, with no other choice but to regain his composure and continue with the charade. And that's why you turn down the sensitivity first. Why didn't I crank his too!?

"Whaddya think it's gonna be?" he asked into the air, fidgeting nervously, "There's no way we got the real deal this fast, dude. That's so lucky." He looked down at the ground, curious if he was worrying all for nothing. Maybe it was his belt buckle? Or maybe his powers didn't screw with the electromagnetic wave whateverness of the metal detector after all and he was overestimating himself. Perhaps it really was some sort of metal object down below and, with luck, onf of Bachman's sweet, sweet loads of cash. "I wonder if it's straight cash or, like, diamonds and stuff. Do you think he was a gold or silver kind of guy?"

Suddenly, Lex wished he was a pirate. But with the recent development of his abilities, it might just a tad dangerous to go hang in ocean water around a bunch of other people.
 








Aster




MOOD: trustin
LOCATION: aster's place
OUTFIT: clothes
TAGS: ditto ditto
MENTIONS: n/a
The air was tense, and Aster still found himself on edge amid Brahm's efforts to be cordial and forthcoming. It was near impossible to keep up with the firm pressure the man was pushing onto him when it was all behind a friendly face. Aster could take overt intimidation fairly well (that was, unless he was being suffocated by back tendrils), and sometimes could even dish it back. But this method of obviously withholding information and dangling faux innocence in front of Aster's eyes did more than throw him off his guard.

How did I actually let this guy waltz into my room like this?

He was afraid. He was fearful and hadn't an idea in the world what he was supposed to do with this man who, despite all insistencies he wasn't out for blood, had an unmistakably sly and curious layer under the mask he wore. Aster detested this intentional attitude. He despised the feeling that he, who one would think would be the last person to be bound by fear and apprehension, was helpless to the sneaking suspicion that he was being played. He failed to conquer the demons within himself and, as a result, became only that much more sensitive to everyone else's. Aster wanted to call it empathy, but he knew all too well about his deep-seated mistrust in the world.

Nothing good could come of any of this if he didn't just say something. Take a stand. Shake that man's hand harderโ€”squeezing the knuckles out of his fingers if he had toโ€”to make it known he intended to be taken seriously.

But that would never happen in this state, and Aster felt his hand go pathetically limp as it locked with Brahm's, his eyes darting side to side and unable to focus on the smiling face in front of him. His speech was riddled with cracks and faults in his tone, worthless in conveying some semblance of a cool, sturdy disposition.

Aster's cool(ish) expression dropped to one of complete and utter unamusement, the light in his eyes flickering out as his cheeks burned bright red. "I was starting small!" he interjected defensively, regretting ever agreeing to work with this guy. Suddenly, doing laundry on a Sunday as opposed to Saturday was looking like a much better idea. He crossed his arms and listened impatiently until the blonde man finished laughing, his brows furrowed so low the creases on his forehead began to fold into one another.

Aster listened closely to Brahm's words, comparing it to what he'd already heard so far. He nodded politely every so often, occasionally losing his focus after having to decipher some of the words he was saying through his thick accent, which he felt a little bad he had to do. "I was just curious. I mean, you've got to have a reason to wanna be stronger, right?" He cocked his head to the side, noting the degree of sincerity he carried in his voice. "Although, I do get the feeling. I haven't had much going on for... a while now, really."

"And those powers of yours... for someone so new to this stuff, you seem to have a good handle on it,"
Aster observed, recalling how dexterous Brahm was in manipulating his aptly named "putayta pahhrs". Never again did he want those horrid tendrils constricting any part of his body; hopefully those red imprints on his wrists would fade before someone got any weird, kinky ideas about him. "You practice a lot or something?"

Aster leaned in forward to peer at Brahm's back, his silent questions about where in the hell his tendrils came from suddenly answered. "Your power doesn't seem all that practical. Can't you make them come out your shirt's neck hole or something?"

Holy hell, this man likes to talk.

All this talk about partnership was getting Aster all... weird. After isolating himself so long, and recently freaking out physically over an (albeit disturbing) display of power, all this preaching about trust and working together felt to soon. Too sudden. Aster wasn't all sure exactly how Brahm liked to operate, but he wasn't buying it.

"I have no problem working with you," he reiterated, his voice balancing between a deadpan and a vaguely warm tone, "If it wasn't already obvious, I didn't exactly have many leads before meeting you, so... to whatever extent I can, yeah, I'll place my trust in you." He hesitated, almost deciding not to continue on. "But make no mistake, there's a difference between placing trust and earning trust. Surely you can understand that part."

code by low fidelity.


The air was tense, and Aster still found himself on edge amid Brahm's efforts to be cordial and forthcoming. It was near impossible to keep up with the firm pressure the man was pushing onto him when it was all behind a friendly face. Aster could take overt intimidation fairly well (that was, unless he was being suffocated by back tendrils), and sometimes could even dish it back. But this method of obviously withholding information and dangling faux innocence in front of Aster's eyes did more than throw him off his guard.

How did I actually let this guy waltz into my room like this?

He was afraid. He was fearful and hadn't an idea in the world what he was supposed to do with this man who, despite all insistencies he wasn't out for blood, had an unmistakably sly and curious layer under the mask he wore. Aster detested this intentional attitude. He despised the feeling that he, who one would think would be the last person to be bound by fear and apprehension, was helpless to the sneaking suspicion that he was being played. He failed to conquer the demons within himself and, as a result, became only that much more sensitive to everyone else's. Aster wanted to call it empathy, but he knew all too well about his deep-seated mistrust in the world.

Nothing good could come of any of this if he didn't just say something. Take a stand. Shake that man's hand harderโ€”squeezing the knuckles out of his fingers if he had toโ€”to make it known he intended to be taken seriously.

But that would never happen in this state, and Aster felt his hand go pathetically limp as it locked with Brahm's, his eyes darting side to side and unable to focus on the smiling face in front of him. His speech was riddled with cracks and faults in his tone, worthless in conveying some semblance of a cool, sturdy disposition.

Aster's cool(ish) expression dropped to one of complete and utter unamusement, the light in his eyes flickering out as his cheeks burned bright red. "I was starting small!" he interjected defensively, regretting ever agreeing to work with this guy. Suddenly, doing laundry on a Sunday as opposed to Saturday was looking like a much better idea. He crossed his arms and listened impatiently until the blonde man finished laughing, his brows furrowed so low the creases on his forehead began to fold into one another.

Aster listened closely to Brahm's words, comparing it to what he'd already heard so far. He nodded politely every so often, occasionally losing his focus after having to decipher some of the words he was saying through his thick accent, which he felt a little bad he had to do. "I was just curious. I mean, you've got to have a reason to wanna be stronger, right?" He cocked his head to the side, noting the degree of sincerity he carried in his voice. "Although, I do get the feeling. I haven't had much going on for... a while now, really."

"And those powers of yours... for someone so new to this stuff, you seem to have a good handle on it,"
Aster observed, recalling how dexterous Brahm was in manipulating his aptly named "putayta pahhrs". Never again did he want those horrid tendrils constricting any part of his body; hopefully those red imprints on his wrists would fade before someone got any weird, kinky ideas about him. "You practice a lot or something?"

Aster leaned in forward to peer at Brahm's back, his silent questions about where in the hell his tendrils came from suddenly answered. "Your power doesn't seem all that practical. Can't you make them come out your shirt's neck hole or something?"

Holy hell, this man likes to talk.

All this talk about partnership was getting Aster all... weird. After isolating himself so long, and recently freaking out physically over an (albeit disturbing) display of power, all this preaching about trust and working together felt to soon. Too sudden. Aster wasn't all sure exactly how Brahm liked to operate, but he wasn't buying it.

"I have no problem working with you," he reiterated, his voice balancing between a deadpan and a vaguely warm tone, "If it wasn't already obvious, I didn't exactly have many leads before meeting you, so... to whatever extent I can, yeah, I'll place my trust in you." He hesitated, almost deciding not to continue on. "But make no mistake, there's a difference between placing trust and earning trust. Surely you can understand that part."
 
there is not
always a good guy

nor is there
always a bad one

most people are
somewhere in between

BRAHM LOVELESS
Mood
โ€ข Casually chattin' โ€ข

Location
โ€ข Aster's apartment โ€ข

Mentions
โ€ข N/A โ€ข

Interactions
โ€ข Aster โ€ข

Tags
โ€ข hery hery โ€ข


Brahmโ€™s easy smile never faltered as Asterโ€™s antsy self moved closer to him. From what Brahm could tell, the other man was inspecting the holes in his robe, which Brahm supposed that he should do, seeing as he would be the one to fix it. โ€œPractice makes perfect,โ€ the Southerner answered sagely. โ€œYou cun do anythang ya put yer mind to, anโ€™ Ahโ€™ve put my mind ta masterin' my abilitiesโ€” Ah much prefer tha word abilities ta pahhrs, ya see, just โ€˜cuz pahhrs feels so juvenile, anโ€™ Ahโ€™m not playinโ€™ superhero here, ya know?โ€

He wiggled on the bed, bringing his hand to the tie of his robe to loosen it a bit to shimmy the back of his robe down just enough for Aster to see the top of his back. There were no visible signs that any of Brahmโ€™s tendrils had ever existed or broken his skin. โ€œMy tendrils come from my back,โ€ he explained, โ€œbut Ah fihger, in time, anโ€™ as Ah get stronger, Ahโ€™ll be able to pull โ€˜em from moreโ€™n jusโ€™ there.โ€ He rolled his shoulders, pulling his tie tighter. โ€œAh jusโ€™ control โ€˜em lahke appendages, Ah guess.โ€

He gave a small shrug, still smiling, as if causally explaining that he could will pinkish potato-like tendrils to come from his back was a typical facet of conversation. โ€œHm, anโ€™ Ah guess with that bitta knowledge, ya know jusโ€™ about as much about my powers as Ah myself do.โ€ This could very well have been a lie, but if it was, nothing on Brahmsโ€™ face betrayed this fact. โ€œAh gotcha up ta speed now, then,โ€ he chuckled softly.

His fish-slippered foot went back to tapping on the floor, its rhythm this time rather upbeat and bouncy, and he nodded his head slightly to some tune that seemed to be playing within his mind. โ€œYa asked if Ah had a reason ta get strongerโ€ฆ?โ€ he said, Asterโ€™s first question just now seeming to register with him, as if none of this conversation mattered any more than a discussion about the weather outside or what each of the pair had had for breakfast this morning (though, had they been discussing this, Brahm guessed that Aster would have opted for Eggo brand waffles; he seemed like an Eggo man). He alternated his tapping between his two feet. โ€œWellโ€ฆ,โ€ he sighed, his voice light as he looked at the popcorn ceiling, studying a large clump of specks that were, oddly, gathered near the corner of the ceiling, as if cowering in fear for something. (Perhaps there was a spider somewhere that they were hiding from. If there were any spiders nearby, Brahm would like to have studied them.) โ€œAh suppose that Ah donโ€™t, really. Why does an athlete wanna get stronger, even after their career is finished? Why does a nineny-year-old granny wanna learn alla tha chess strategies in tha book, even if she ainโ€™t got a soul ta play with? Why does a man stranded on a deserted island wanna make himself a crown of sticks and coconuts and tromp around as if heโ€™s a king, even with no one ta serve โ€˜im? To alla those, ya can give one, single answerโ€”โ€œ

Brahm met Asterโ€™s eyes, grinning. โ€œโ€˜Cuz they wanna, of course,โ€ he said with a chuckle, running a hand through his hair. โ€œAnโ€™ why do Ah go after these powers? Why do Ah wanna get stronger? Why did Ah come so far to get to the stars?โ€ He gave a shrug and another laugh. โ€œโ€˜Cuz Ah wanna. In tha end, thatโ€™s all it amounts to. If it were anythang elseโ€” if Ah was cominโ€™ here ta get stronger because Ah wanted money or because Ah wanted someโ€ฆvague, intangible thing such as fame, then Ahโ€™d be waitin' on others ta wait on me, wouldnโ€™t Ah? After al, ya canโ€™t get rich on yer own, can ya? Well, Ah guess ya can if yer a counterfeiter, but counterfeiting is to risky a business fer me ta be innersted in.โ€ He chuckled softly, shaking his head. โ€œYa wait fer others ta pay ya, er ya rob โ€˜em anโ€™ ya wait for โ€˜em ta hand over tha money. Anโ€™ fame is wholly reliant on other peopleโ€” yer restinโ€™ alla yer hope in fickle beings that ainโ€™t no better than you, whose opinions change from second ta second ta second, anโ€™ Ah see that as just plain moronic. Thatโ€™s why yer only motivation fer anythinโ€™ should be โ€˜cuz ya wanna.โ€

He looked at the ceiling again. โ€œWhyโ€™d Ah come hereโ€ฆ? Ta get stronger. Why do Ah wanna be strongerโ€ฆ? โ€˜Cuz Ah just wanna,โ€ he repeated beneath his breath with a smile on his face.

He looked back at Aster. โ€œAhโ€™m glad we ainโ€™t gonna have a problem. Ah really donโ€™t like ta have issyas with people.โ€ (There surely could have been a who I deem to be useful after the phrase that he had ended the sentence with.) โ€œAh know good anโ€™ well that trust is earned, but you should also do well ta remember that trust ainโ€™t just earned. If ya start out bein' skeptical of othersโ€” which is often a wise decision, and Ah ainโ€™t dockinโ€™ thatโ€” then ya immediately call into doubt their trustworthiness. When ya grow beyond just name-knowers, though, as we seem taโ€™ve here, what with our alliance nowโ€”โ€œ He grinned at Aster. โ€œโ€” ya start ta see tha other person deeper than just their appearance. Ya see their personality, anโ€™ ya have ta put at least a lilโ€™ bitta faith in that. Anโ€™, if ya canโ€™t trust that, trust this: Ah ainโ€™t lied to ya yet, Aster. Yaโ€™ve no reason ta be so overly skeptical as ya wouldโ€™ve beenโ€™a me if we were strangers, norโ€™ve ya got any reason ta wholly trust me, so just trust me enough ta listen ta what Ahโ€™m sayinโ€™ without immediately dismissinโ€™ it as a lie or as somethinโ€™ meant ta hurt ya. Trust in what Ah ask ya ta do, anโ€™ Ahโ€™ll do tha same for you.โ€

In other words: follow me and ignore your inhibitions, but in a much nicer way than before.


code by ditto (head empty go bonk)
 
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Atticus Bailey



As the blonde boy sat downโ€”his feet swaying ever so slightly, hanging down belowโ€”a calming sensation washed over him; he was in his safe space: breeze in his hair, bullshit ready to leave his mouth, his sister by his side, and a blunt to be smoked tucked away safely in her pocket. It appeared that his safe space was on the roof, which, ironically so, was the one place where he could very easily fall and break both of his legs at any given moment with just one inept move of excitement. It would've been pretty awkward if he had to have been taken to the hospital with two broken legs, but somehow Atticus imagined that scenario more fondly in his head than the family dinner everybody dreaded creeping right around the corner.

Though, I think it was fairly obvious by now how much none of the family members really wanted to be there, or at least that opinion was the general consensus between the two siblings chilling on the roof. After all, who would've wanted to eat mom's dry chicken while dad tried to keep the painfully dead conversation alive by asking how everybody spent their day?

In fact, Atticus was so over being there that he tried a plethora of things that would've gotten him out of that dinner. Anything and everything from making up a fake band practice to some homework school thing... However, seeing he really didn't have many friends or hobbies and seeing how that fact was painfully obvious to most people around him, all of his efforts proved to be quite worthless in the end. After all, he still found himself in the exact spot he wanted to avoid in the first placeโ€”at home dreading his dad's inevitable arrival.

"Keep dreaming, Elizabeth." The boy murmured at his sister's obviously-sarcastic but maybe slightly hopeful words, an appropriate shrug and eye roll accompanying the obviously tease. Being the disappointments of the family was a frequent joke between the two siblings, and Atticus especially enjoyed it when it was Eliza's turn to be the bud of the joke, because, let's face it, he still hadn't ruined all his chances at maybe not being a complete and utter failure.

"Ah, yes. The sweet release of death sounds so much better than the shitshow that is about to happen in half an hour. Though if a car did fall on your head and kill you, the dinner would never happen." Atticus considered after taking a hit of the blunt before coughing and then continuing. "But the funeral would also be an awkward situation, so your death would only postpone the inevitable..."

"But, um, my day was fine. Boring old shit with some more boring old shit. Oh, and then mom yelled, and then some more boring old shit."
He took another drag of the blunt before giving it to Eliza and continuing. "And Aurelia is still hungover from that one seltzer she had when she was like 15, which makes it impossible to exist."

| elizabeth geminiy geminiy |

TEMPLATE ยฉ BOKEH
 

OUTFIT: xoxo

MOOD: "fuck. fuck. fuck."
basics

logan.

mentions
Clarissa Taylor
claire ~ 22 ~ pansexual ~ pain inducement
"You're such an asshole?! Why would I bother coming here if it wasn't yours? You think I just bloody wanted-"

Claire had been ranting about Logan's comment so she didn't even realize what she was doing until it was too late. She'd been here before though. Angry or over-emotional thoughts that just so happened to sync up with someone near her suddenly doubling over in pain. At first, she'd thought nothing of it but then she noticed that when she broke concentration on the negative feelings, the person seemed to miraculously get better. That was...it was a coincidence, right? What else could it be if not a coincidence? Anything else just sounded insane.

But as she stood there wishing that Logan could feel the pain his words had delivered to her, as her blood boiled from the anger festering inside of her, he demonstrated the same thing she'd seen before. The sheer look of agony as he fell to his knees nearly matched the level of shock in her own expression. Had she just....how? What the hell was going on? Was she going fucking crazy?

"Logan!" she yelled out, instincts kicking in. Before she could think too much, she was rushing to his side, her hand meeting his shoulder like a magnet had pulled it there. "Are yo-" she started as he composed himself enough to answer without her even finishing the full question. "Drink," she told him, handing him a bottle of water that she'd grabbed from the nearby.

She wanted to mention it to him, the weird occurrences and how she was certain she had just caused some sort of whatever the fuck. Claire normally would've felt comfortable enough to do so in all honesty. Sure, they were both fucking unstable but they seemed to get each other most of the time. Chances were he wouldn't make her feel completely crazy for it but she couldn't. What she needed to do was put that on the back burner and ignore it for now. So she did. "God. You scared the hell out of me..." she said softly, letting out a sigh of relief.

Once she was certain he was back to normal, she dropped down all the way to sit next to him on the floor. "Look, I get it. You aren't ready to be a parent. Hell, I'm not ready either but I am pregnant," she said, her accent still heavy as she spoke. It was hard to get the words out, today was the first she'd said it at all and it made things that much more real. "If you want to walk away, Logan, just say it. I won't fault you for it. We can just...break ties now. No hard feelings, yeah?" she said honestly.

Did she want to do this alone? Absolutely not. Would it hurt if he did choose to let her? Yes. But she was sincere in her offer. She knew that they weren't exactly Wilmont's finest and putting the two of them together as parents...the poor kid was doomed already. No. Claire couldn't do it alone. She'd have to go back to her shitty mother with her tail tucked. Beg for help from her parents who cut her off for being, well, irresponsible. She'd do it though. If she had to. If it was to save him from having to raise a kid neither of them really wanted.
code by valen t.
 
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fillerfillerfillfillerfillerfillerlerfilelifr 2:45 PM fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfilr
Aria
INTERACTIONS

Lucio

MENTIONS

N/A




What the fuck?

Was it just her--

Yeah, no, it wasn't her imagination and it wasn't the waning high. Between the scooting back and forth of his chair, and his fumbled words, Lucio had been acting absolutely bizarre. And then he had the audacity to run away from her right after he'd been ignoring her texts and avoiding her at school, and... Well, to say that Aria was done was an understatement.

After she got over the initial just straight up what the fuck just happened following Lucio's rather abrupt departure, she slammed her hands into the table and stood up roughly. She narrowed her eyes, glaring after him. Running had never been Aria's strong suit, but fuck it. Lucio wanted to play this game? Aria would fucking play.

She darted after him out of the little restaurant, her eyes glued to his retreating form as he darted across the road and...

Down in alley?

Weird, but alright.

Aria followed after him, roughly shoving her way past people that happened to be in the wrong spot at the wrong time. She stepped out into the road and was met with the angry blaring of someone's car horn as they slammed on their brakes to come to a screeching halt -- and all Aria did in response was offer a middle finger in the angry driver's direction.

She slipped past the parked cars and headed into the alleyway. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness cast by the buildings on either side, but then she saw Lucio. Her eyebrows drew together as she started stomping towards him.

"Lucio, what the hell?" Aria snapped. "What the fuck was that? And why are you acting so... so fucking weird?/i]"

code by ditto (head empty go bonk)
 
fillerfillerfillfillerfillerfillerlerfilelifr 2:45 PM fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfilr
Connor
INTERACTIONS

Leea, Angie

MENTIONS

N/A




With a roll of his eyes, Connor followed after Leea. Maybe he should've spoken up, voiced his opinions, snapped back at Leea instead of letting her virtually walk all over him -- but, well... Connor picked his battles carefully and Leea having a vision and wanting to go on this dumbass trip and getting all worked into tizzy over it wasn't worth expending his energy.

So instead, he followed after her like a good little dog. A good little crony. His hands rested in the pockets of his dark green jacket, his thumb rubbing against the switchblade that she'd given him.

They headed outside and to the area that the girl had told them to meet her in and, what do you know, sleazy snake bitch was waiting right there for them. Connor watched, only half-listening, as she started to speak and approach them. Blah, blah, too poor this, blah, blah, something that he didn't at all hear that.

And then she drew Leea aside, and now Connor's interest was piqued. He narrowed his eyes, watching her movements carefully. The muscles in his shoulders tensed and he straightened up his slouched posture, his hand gripping the switchblade tighter. But Connor didn't make any move to step forward, at least not quite yet. He'd been told to lay low and let Leea handle everything, remember? And unfortunately, Connor's pettiness overpowered any gut instincts telling him something wasn't right.

He watched, though, still on alert as Angie leaned forward, covering up her mouth as she started speaking to Leea. His eyebrows furrowed together in confusion as he watched, and then she stepped back.

What--


code by ditto (head empty go bonk)
 
a wrong-doer
is often a man

that has left something
undone

not always one who
has done something

LEEA PRESCOTT
Mood
{ โ€” }

Location
{ Back of the mall }

Mentions
{ N/A }

Interactions
{ Connor, Angela }

Tags
{ Winona Winona }
{ fancries1 fancries1 }


There were several things that Leea was, but โ€œdumbโ€ and โ€œeasy to defeatโ€ were not two of them; the other womanโ€™s judgement that Leea fell into both of those categories was a testament to the notion that she fell into those categories instead.

As the strange woman approached her, Leea took a step away from Connor and towards her, looking at her through the corner of her eyes and giving him the signal: she put two fingers to her forehead with her right hand, tapping at her temple, and then slowly extended her thumb.

Be on guard, idiot. Sheโ€™s going to attack.

Her eyes slid back to the other woman. She was slowly approaching, moving slowly as if Leea was dumb enough to not be able to recognize moment. Instinctively, Leeaโ€™s hand slid to the inside of her jacket, but her hands didnโ€™t find the cold steel of her knife, and she recalled, with an inward curse, that sheโ€™d given it to Connor.

Be ready, she tried to communicate mentally.

She was at Leeaโ€™s shoulder now, and Leea did her best to remain relaxed, though she anticipated what was coming.

Her hand moved to Leeaโ€™s ear, cupping it so that no noise escaped, and Leea stared straight ahead, swallowing and trying to keep her breathing steady.

An odd, hypnotic noise hit her eardrum, and she found herself slipping into a blackness. She tried to claw back up the haze, her body tensing up as she fought to remain cognizant.

So this was her attack. Some kind of...voice...hypnosi...

โ€œBi...,โ€ she managed to mutter, and then she fell into a darkness.

Her body relaxed, her eyes empty, as the puppeteer whispered in her ear the commands that she was to obey.

Slowly, Leea, unknowing of her actions and unaware of anything around her beyond, moved towards Connor, her movements oddly fluid. Her footsteps were unsteady at first, and then grew nearly mechanical. Her blank eyes were focused on Connor.

She came to a stop a couple of feet in front of Connor, standing and staring at her, and thenโ€” all at onceโ€” she launched her small frame at him, using all of her strength in an attempt to nail him down to the ground, making no noise whatsoever. Her hands gripped with all of their might; her feet kicked with all of their power.

Leea was under control, and, though within, her consciousness was fighting to break free of the power holding her, the control of her body was entirely lost.


code by ditto (head empty go bonk)
 
























  • How it went...







    Click



    All the breakers on the left side were switched off all at once and the metal door was slammed shut. The small, cramped bookstore was instantly plunged into inky darkness followed by the sound of hurried feet. There was a loud crash followed by some light swearing before the front door was swung open. A black haired girl slammed the glass door a little too hard and locked it behind her. She stood there in the orange glow of the street light, hands shaking and trying to catch her breath, "Why am I panicking?"

    I've been here...

    She shook her head as if to clear away her paranoia. No dice, still freaked out. She glanced in either direction. A slight breeze blew up the empty street, causing the woman to pull her jacket closer against the chill. With a shaky breath, Joan put her headphones on and played some music to try to calm down.


    Joan tucked her hands into her jacket pockets and focused on her music softly coming through her headphones. Her thoughts drifted to Gary Ridgeway and how she was the exact kind of person he would have dumped into a river. She blinked and glanced over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't being followed.

    Stupid...

    A flash of light out of the corner of her eye caused Joan to pause and look up. Joan's eyes met a brilliant, beautiful light. A single tear rolled down her cheek as the street around her grew brighter and brighter.
























    paranoid


















    commute home


































    N/A
































    nine lives



 
fillerfillerfillfillerfillerfillerlerfilelifr 2:45 PM fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfilr
Logan
INTERACTIONS

Claire

MENTIONS

N/A

TAGS

jasmyn jasmyn



The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt in his life. One minute, he was fine and then...he wasnโ€™t. It was like someone was pulling apart his brain one piece at a time and when they got bored, they just stuck their hand inside and squeezed it until it oozed through their fingers.

Holy shit.

He grabbed the water that Claire had offered him and downed in quickly in one breath. No, he wasnโ€™t wishing that it was a beer or a bottle of whiskey, if thatโ€™s what you were thinking. He closed his eyes again and took another deep breath as he pulled himself up. The nauseous feeling in his stomach was still prevalent, but he wasnโ€™t sure if it was due to the fact that he just felt like he died or the fact that he was just told he was gonna be a father.

โ€œGod. You scared the hell out of meโ€ฆโ€

He huffed out a laugh and gave her a look. โ€œYou and me both, babe.โ€ He said with a heavy sigh. โ€œThat was....โ€ He said as he rubbed the back of his head, but didnโ€™t bother finishing his statement. He had no idea what that was. It was probably his body telling him to stop drinking before the sun went down or to stop using copious amounts of drugs to make yourself forget about your life.

Nah.

It was probably just the effects of his hangover. That had to be it, right? He grabbed his beer off the top of the friday and down the rest of it, hoping that it would take the edge off.

โ€œLook, I get it. You arenโ€™t ready to be a parent. Hell, Iโ€™m not ready either but I am pregnant.โ€

Pfft. Was that the understatement of the fucking year. Ready to be a parent? Hell, Logan was pretty sure he wasnโ€™t ready to care for a goldfish. Actually, he knew he wasnโ€™t. He had won one at the county fair a couple years back. Brought it home. Fixed ups its bowl. And forgot to feed it. He was pretty sure that the unopened bottle of fish food was still laying around the house somewhere.

His eyes glanced over at Claire and he gave her a weak smile as he made his way past her and out of the garage. He stopped when he was a safe distance and turned around, pulling out his pack of smokes. He placed one between his lips and flicked the lighter until a flame ignited. He inhaled deeply, contemplating his next words carefully.

โ€œIf you want to walk away, Logan, just say it.โ€

Those words stung. Stung harder than heโ€™d let himself admit. โ€œI donโ€™t know what Iโ€™m supposed to say here, Claire.โ€ He said with a shrug. โ€œLook at me. Iโ€™m a fuckin' mess. How the hell am I supposed to take care of you? How the hell am I supposed to take care of a kid?โ€ He laughed ironically. Heโ€™d wanted a family once. A long, long, long time ago. But at a certain age and realizing heโ€™d never amount to much, he figured it was best he let the Townes line die with him or at last let Liam carry it on.

He took a drag from his cigarette. He didn't know what he wanted. He knew the idea of never seeing Claire again made that nauseous feeling pull at his stomach. He knew that he was Wilmont's trash. He became exactly what everyone expected him to. And now, what? He was supposed let a kid grow up in that shadow? Pfft. He eyed the ground. "I don't have anything to offer...to either one of you." He said as he kicked the dirt underneath his feet softly unable to meet her gaze.


code by ditto (head empty go bonk)
 








Aster




MOOD: trustin x2
LOCATION: aster's place
OUTFIT: clothes
TAGS: ditto ditto
MENTIONS: n/a
Aster was a little taken aback to know that Brahm actually practiced his abilities in his spare time. Ever since he'd gained his own abilities, he'd toyed around with it often, but he never came to the conclusion that it would develop beyond what he already had. Manipulating fears isn't exactly the same as lifting weights. No... it had to do with brain waves or something, probably. And what better way to exercise one's brain than gaining knowledge? Hence this... whole operation.

At the mention of superheroes, Aster smirked and shook his head. "Superheroes aren't real, but come on," he countered flippantly, "No matter how you slice it, there's an inherent sense of grandiosity that comes with having something most of the world doesn't." The grinning man realized how smug he sounded and he was fine with that. The power he held within him had quickly become his entire life and, whether he was proud of that or not, it filled him with a real sense of worth. "It wouldn't make sense not to own it, even if no one in the world can know but us."

He closely examined Brahm's skin, amazed to have observed no apparent marks from the tendrils that sprung from him just minutes ago. "That's an incredible ability," he muttered, invasively prodding at his back just to be sure, "You're like a shorter, Southern Slenderman. But, uh, without all the malice." The light in his eyes faded a tad as he realized that comment had completely betrayed the mistrustful attitude he'd been giving off. But, for the sake of the pursuit of knowledge, it was his duty to at least partially play along. In time, Aster would come to find out of his malice comment was the whole truth or not.

"Then I'll take your word for it," Aster replied, stifling a sigh. Brahm's answer was anticlimactic to say the least, but it wasn't as if he himself had a particularly profound reason for traveling all the way to Wilmont, Washington. It was entirely feasible to reach superhero-level of self-importance without some grand philosophy regarding their unique predicament. "I suppose, as you've already surmised, I'm more or less in the same boat."

Putting up a philosophical fight was making Aster grow weary, and he wasn't sure how much longer he'd have before he just caved and pushed his doubts to the back of his mind. Brahm's words were convincing and the points he articulated particularly resonated with him, so really... maybe there wasn't much harm in giving this thing more of a chance. "You're right. Maybe I shouldn't come off so skeptical." It hurt to admit that with what little pride he had left. Silencing the warning bells ringing incessantly inside him, he continued. "I'm sorry, this is just... such a weird situation. I don't really know what I'm doing, to be honest. Please forgive me."

code by low fidelity.


Aster was a little taken aback to know that Brahm actually practiced his abilities in his spare time. Ever since he'd gained his own abilities, he'd toyed around with it often, but he never came to the conclusion that it would develop beyond what he already had. Manipulating fears isn't exactly the same as lifting weights. No... it had to do with brain waves or something, probably. And what better way to exercise one's brain than gaining knowledge? Hence this... whole operation.

At the mention of superheroes, Aster smirked and shook his head. "Superheroes aren't real, but come on," he countered flippantly, "No matter how you slice it, there's an inherent sense of grandiosity that comes with having something most of the world doesn't." The grinning man realized how smug he sounded and he was fine with that. The power he held within him had quickly become his entire life and, whether he was proud of that or not, it filled him with a real sense of worth. "It wouldn't make sense not to own it, even if no one in the world can know but us."

He closely examined Brahm's skin, amazed to have observed no apparent marks from the tendrils that sprung from him just minutes ago. "That's an incredible ability," he muttered, invasively prodding at his back just to be sure, "You're like a shorter, Southern Slenderman. But, uh, without all the malice." The light in his eyes faded a tad as he realized that comment had completely betrayed the mistrustful attitude he'd been giving off. But, for the sake of the pursuit of knowledge, it was his duty to at least partially play along. In time, Aster would come to find out of his malice comment was the whole truth or not.

"Then I'll take your word for it," Aster replied, stifling a sigh. Brahm's answer was anticlimactic to say the least, but it wasn't as if he himself had a particularly profound reason for traveling all the way to Wilmont, Washington. It was entirely feasible to reach superhero-level of self-importance without some grand philosophy regarding their unique predicament. "I suppose, as you've already surmised, I'm more or less in the same boat."

Putting up a philosophical fight was making Aster grow weary, and he wasn't sure how much longer he'd have before he just caved and pushed his doubts to the back of his mind. Brahm's words were convincing and the points he articulated particularly resonated with him, so really... maybe there wasn't much harm in giving this thing more of a chance. "You're right. Maybe I shouldn't come off so skeptical." It hurt to admit that with what little pride he had left. Silencing the warning bells ringing incessantly inside him, he continued. "I'm sorry, this is just... such a weird situation. I don't really know what I'm doing, to be honest. Please forgive me."
 
there is not
always a good guy

nor is there
always a bad one

most people are
somewhere in between

BRAHM LOVELESS
Mood
โ€ข Casually chattin' โ€ข

Location
โ€ข Aster's apartment โ€ข

Mentions
โ€ข N/A โ€ข

Interactions
โ€ข Aster โ€ข

Tags
โ€ข hery hery โ€ข


โ€œForgive ya?โ€ Brahm asked, raising an eyebrow. โ€œWhatโ€™ve Ah got ta forgive ya for?โ€ He laughed, brushing a hand through his blonde hair, which was still damp from his shower not so long ago. โ€œYainโ€™t done nothinโ€™ butโ€ฆโ€ Brahm bunched his head from left to right, looking up ward as he looked for the word. โ€œUhโ€ฆskepticize,โ€ he decided, looking back at Aster and meeting his eyes. โ€œAnโ€™ thatโ€™s just a simple, easy mistakeโ€” so ainโ€™t nothinโ€™ ta apologize for, anywhere.โ€

(Maybe that was a slight lie. Aster could have apologized for the attack, howeverโ€” and that might have been the best course of action for the smaller man, seeing as Brahm could, very easily, take him down again, if he was so inclined.)

Brahm stood again. It seemed as if the man couldnโ€™t sit still in any capacity for any amount of time. He extended his hand towards Aster, then clapped it on the other manโ€™s shoulder, grinning down at him like a father at his son. (Standing at 6โ€™2โ€, Brahm gauged that he was around four or five inches taller than his new cohort, which was rather unremarkable, seeing as Brahm was taller than nearly everyone that he met, anyway.) โ€œDonโ€™t talk so stiffly anโ€™ meekly, man.โ€ He took his hand away from his shoulder, giving him a gentle nudge in the chest with his fist. โ€œYou anโ€™ me, weโ€™re equals now. Allies, now. Ainโ€™t we? Idn't that what we jusโ€™ agreed ta?โ€ He grinned at him, giving him a gentle nod and showing him the correct answer to his question. โ€œAh understand yer apprehension, anโ€™ apologizinโ€™ fer yer suspicions and skepticism that ya had doesnโ€™t take away tha fact that theyโ€™re still there. Have confidence in yerself, at least. If yer scared, take it in stride; if yain't, take it in stride, too. No good comes from being meager anโ€™ smallโ€”โ€œ

He grinned at his partner, giving him another subtle nod. โ€œEven tha tiniest crack can take down a whole cliff, cainโ€™t it?โ€

He maintained eye contact for a moment after saying it, then patted his shoulder again with a soft chuckle, beginning to head towards the door. โ€œSo, where do we go from here, ya ask?โ€ he said, asking a question that Aster was, no doubt, thinking, but hadnโ€™t asked aloud in any capacity. โ€œWhere do Brahm and Aster, tha pahtayter guy anโ€™ tha fearmonger go from hereโ€ฆ? How do we get more power?โ€ He leaned against the wall beside the door, looking at Aster with his arms crossed. โ€œAh got tha same question...anโ€™ Ah got a lilโ€™ bitta an answer.โ€

He beckoned, with an extended finger, for Aster to come near, and he lowered his voice, putting his hand on Asterโ€™s back and giving it a pat. โ€œA lilโ€™ known fact that Ah learnedโ€” not firsthand, but that Ah learnedโ€” was that you can get powers by draininโ€™ them.โ€ He looked at Asterโ€™s eyes, grinning slowly. โ€œYa know what that means, donโ€™t you?โ€

He lowered his voice even further, the grin on his face starkly contrasting with the darkness of his following words:

โ€œYa drain their life from โ€˜em.โ€


code by ditto (head empty go bonk)
 
mood :
Still got the spirit

location :
Woods
outfit :

Da fit
mentions :
None

interactions :
hery hery , ditto ditto
Hayes
;; Alex

The photo was as awkward as he could've imagined, with his teammates doing some of the worst poses he'd ever seen in his life. But, still, he chose to post it. No reason to keep his adventures and increasingly interesting ventures a secret and away from the realm of social media. After it was uploaded, he simply placed his phone back inside his pocket and followed the group. Already feeling it vibrating shortly after, no doubt a product of the likes his post was already making.

They set off, for a long and costly adventure that Alex was sure would be a test of their mental and physical prowess. An epic adventure the likes no man, woman, or child had ever set on before. Hopefully to find the lost treasure, yes, but Alex was sure they would find something worthwhile out of their outing even without it. Maybe something cooler and more unique than just old coins, or maybe their friendship would prove to be the treasure all along.

That or their machines would immediately pick up a signal. Because the universe decided it wanted to be good to them for once.

"No way!" Alex uttered, jogging closer to where the signal had been found and sticking the shovel inside the dirt as if his life depended on it. Containing his urge to babble on about how lucky they were and speculations on what the treasure could be as he started digging the hole. His strong arms tension up with every bit of effort it took to big out their price. A job that thanks to his excitement and prowess, he finally felt his shovel hit something.

"There! Ha!" He exclaimed, moving faster to uncover the remaining dirt around the find.

"That's a weird way to hide money- oh... wait," his speech faltered as more of it was discovered. Revealing nothing but the sight of the bare bones of what could only be a dog.

"Fuck, man, that's...that's not right-" he quickly stood back up, the back of his hand covering his mouth. Just the sight of the skeleton...the thought that it probably belonged to a good boy who only wanted to make it's owners proud and happy. Did it die of old age? Or did something bad happen to it? The skull looked small, much smaller than the dogs that he was used to. Could it have been a puppy?

"Please don't be a puppy, please don't be a puppy, please don't be a puppy, I'll shoot myself if it's a puppy."

"WHY WOULD THE THING PICK THAT UP?!" He shouted out, louder than normal (which was saying a lot, especially for someone as loud as Alex). He stared back at the bones, shovel still in hand, still feeling like he'd just been stabbed. "Poor dog."
coded by reveriee.
 
the urge to
save humanity

is almost always
a false

front for the
urge to rule

SAM MAEGER
Mood
[ Exploring time ]

Location
[ The woods ]

Mentions
[ N/A ]

Interactions
[ Lex, Alex ]

Tags
[ hery hery fancries1 fancries1 ]


PIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIIIIโ€”
โ€จIt really wasnโ€™t shutting up! Oh, hell yeah!

โ€œThe motherlode, man!โ€ Sam cheered in response to Lexโ€™s questioning. โ€œItโ€™s gotta be a motherlode! The sensorโ€™s going insane!โ€ He tried to adjust his grip on the thing to make it easier to hold, but his fingers wouldnโ€™t budge from their spot on the handle, as if they were stuck to it. He gave up, chuckling awkwardly and then resuming his excited smile as he looked down at the mud beneath the metal detectorโ€™s coil. โ€œYa think? Mโ€ฆman!โ€ He shook his head in disbelief.

Was the universe suddenly making up for depriving him of luck thus far in his life by gracing him with the luck of aโ€ฆleprechaun or something? Oh, hell yeah!

โ€œI bet itโ€™s goldโ€” itโ€™s gotta be gold,โ€ Sam said, putting the metal detector to his side to allow Alex to get in with his shovel, though he couldnโ€™t quite pry his hand from it to allow himself to drop it on the ground. He did his best to talk over the incessant PIPIPIPIPIPIPIPIing. โ€œBachman doesnโ€™t seem like heโ€™d be aโ€ฆa gemstone kinda guy, does he? I mean, like, if I was loadedโ€” a-as loaded as this guy, I would wantโ€ฆmoney money, you know? Dubloonsโ€” man, do you think itโ€™s dabloons?"

He watched the jock begin to dig, his muscles making his movements easy as he tossed dirt to the side repeatedly.

He felt a little bit of envy burn inside of himself. He wished that Alex hadnโ€™t even comeโ€” he didnโ€™t realize how impressive it looked to be able to dig with a shovel. Why couldnโ€™t thatโ€™ve been Samโ€™s job? โ€ฆright. Because Sam couldnโ€™t it, and he knew that because he was the one who gave everyone their jobs.

At Alexโ€™s cry, Sam perked up again, the excited smile coming back to his face. โ€œWhatโ€™d you find, maโ€”โ€œ

Sam stopped himself short when something caught in his throat, and he immediately stepped back from the hole, covering his mouth and shaking his head. โ€œHolyโ€ฆshit.โ€

He felt like he was going to pass outโ€ฆ

Thud.

Sam fell to his butt, holding his head with the hand that wasnโ€™t still stuck holding the metal detector, which was still incessantly PIPIPIPIPIPIPIing.

โ€œC-Cover it up, man,โ€ he called, voice weak as he squeezed his eyes shut. โ€œCover itโ€”โ€ฆโ€

He cut himself off as his black-rimmed vision focused on Lexโ€™s hand around his own driven-insane metal detector. โ€œWhat the hell is up with these things?โ€ Sam asked, his eyes going back to the screen of his metal detector, trying to ignore his nausea. โ€œYou think that theyโ€™re brokenโ€ฆ? I mean, theyโ€™reโ€”โ€œ He tried to tug his hand from it again, miserably failing. โ€œMy handโ€™s stuck to itโ€” thatโ€™s not normal, right?โ€ He looked over at Lex, and then glanced at Alex. โ€œI meanโ€ฆwhat kind ofโ€ฆโ€ He chuckled awkwardly, his voice strained. He swallowed, shaking his head. โ€œWhat kind of metal detector sets off at bones, wonโ€™t shut up, and then sticks to your handsโ€ฆ? Iโ€ฆI, uhโ€ฆI think we got dudsโ€ฆโ€

He held his hand out for Lexโ€™s metal detector. โ€œHey, give yours here, man,โ€ he requested, his voice warbling.


code by ditto (head empty go bonk)
 
fillerfillerfillfillerfillerfillerlerfilelifr 2:45 PM fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfilr
Connor
INTERACTIONS

Leea, Angie

MENTIONS

N/A




Leea had launched at him like a rabid honey badger.

... Well, not really. The way she'd launched herself at him was more equivalent to that of a small kitten trying to snap at its mom. Or you know how lion cubs will attack their dads and the dads will just kinda... push them over with one huge paw like it's nothing? That's what it was more equivalent to, at least in Connor's eyes.

Leea did have strength behind her, of course, but Connor had braced himself for the attack. And seriously, the lack of pain meant that Leea's little fists were like a fly bumping against him -- more a nuisance than anything.

She was feisty, though, so Connor's attempts at trying to subdue her were subpar at best, but also half-hearted on his part. Could he have probably easily hurt her or broken her by kicking her away? Or punching her? Most definitely, but even if Leea was a Class A bitch, she was still the only person he had this miserable world, so he did his best to not do that.

He grabbed her wrists, roughly pushing her away from him, but not letting go of Leea's hands quite yet. He kept one eye on her, his flailing wild friend, and kept the other eye on the girl that had started this.

"What'd you do?" He barked, attention focusing back on Leea as he roughly shoved her back, knocking her to the ground and buying himself a few seconds of peace before she could collect herself and launch back at him again.

One thing, he now decided that was undeniably clear... this girl had seen the stars. That was the only logical explanation but it wasn't a power he could piece together -- what had she done...? One minute she'd been talking, and then she'd covered up her mouth to talk to Leea, and now Leea was a fucking puppet to snake lady over here.

"You fucking hypnotized her voice?" Connor asked, although he couldn't stay focused on Angie. Instead, his attention had to go back to Leea, but this time, a well placed kick sent her tumbling backwards.

Okay, maybe he was getting a little bit of joy from getting to kick and shove Leea around.


code by ditto (head empty go bonk)
 
fillerfillerfillfillerfillerfillerlerfilelifr 2:45 PM fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfilr
Valencia
INTERACTIONS

Cam

MENTIONS

N/A

TAGS

Winona Winona


Her mind was running a hundred and one miles per second-- and it wasn't Cam's.

It was Val's.

What did that mean?

'Can't tell her I was talking to dead people, though -- she'll think I'm crazy.'

If Cam didn't believe Val already saw her as some kind of lunatic than she had another thing coming, and it took every once of her will power not to choke on the tea that was practically burning her mouth as she processed her sister's words-- or well, her thoughts. And thoughts being said, there wasn't a possible way she could be lying. If Valencia wasn't going through these past months, she would've believed that her sister just needed to be admitted into a mental hospital, that it was some type of phase.

But this wasn't an experiment on some girl in college.

This was Camila trying to talk to their dead mother.

'I can't deal with that.'

Shaky hands had placed the mug back onto the counter and Valencia took a deep breath, letting it out through her nose slowly as her nails threatened to break the skin on her palms. She couldn't believe this conversation was even happening in the first place. It didn't make sense, it wasn't right it-- dead people don't talk. Maybe it was something medical. Maybe Camila had some type of tumor like that one girl in that tv show. She just...

How could she believe that?

But then again, how could Cam believe her if Val told her the truth?

'How have I not found her yet?'

It was almost depressing to her Camila lie with such ease. When had she started doing that? And... how did Val not notice? Before her thoughts decide to lurk on what kind of terrible sister she was, Camila's own thoughts threatened to make her snap with every mention of their mother.

She returned the smile, placing her hand on Cam's in an attempt to fake a comfort while she tried to get more of a read, racking her brain for an answer as to how she knew where she went in the first place without exposing herself.

'What if she's just choosing not to speak to me?'

'What if she's not around anymore?'

'what if--'


"Stop! Just fucking stop."

Valencia exclaimed, placing both hands onto the countertop so harshly it resulted one of the mugs to topple over the edge, shattering against the tiles, the sound itself was enough for V to snap out of her saddened emotional state and into an angry one. It was as if everything else withdrew and she was feeling her own disturbance at what was happening, but heightened. "God, I know because I--"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I... just..."

Her gaze fell to the pieces of the mug onto the floor where Val took a shaky sigh, rubbing the edges of her temples.

"I just know. Okay?"

Whatever emotions that were swirling around in her head right now, they were a hundred percent hers. It wasn't Cam's, it wasn't their stupid neighbor, it wasn't that suicidal guy this morning. Val was angry. At herself, at the situation, at Cam for not telling her the truth sooner, at... the idea of her sister grave hopping for a desperate chance to see their mother again because she wasn't coming back. And whatever... odd... thing Cam had going on wasn't going to change that.

Nothing would.

"... I-- When did all of this start? How long have you been searching for her?"


code by ditto (head empty go bonk)
 

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