୨୧╼ Plotting Call. Who Wants To Plot Out Dynamics And Relationships With My Morose Babe? Willing

idk why it annoys me so much - when people unfollow you but they don't soft block/hard block you. like if u need to unfollow me for any reasons that's fine - curate your space. i legit support everyone doing that. i want everyone to have a happy and healthy environment.

but why you gotta make me go through the work of unfollowing you as well? cries.

me falling asleep at my computer and not getting anything done. more likey than i wanted.

Emily Browning in Deep Thoughts With Karen Bird (Shangri-La Suite).

i just got tickets to see sailor moon the super live in new york city in april. and i'm legit crying in happiness. like - i have dreamed about seeing a sailor moon theater performance since i was a kid watching poorly recorded fan dubbed ones i downloaded from irc servers as a child. SOBS.

‘TOL AND SMOL’ PROMPTS

feel free to combine these with dialogue whether it’s something you make up or from other memes your partner has reblogged. 

[ BEND ]  for the shorter muse to tug the taller muse down so they can kiss their forehead. 

[ LEAN ]  for the taller muse to lean down to kiss the shorter muse’s forehead. 

[ LIFT ]  for taller muse to lift up the smaller one and sit them on a surface where they can be eye level. 

[ CLIMB ]  for the shorter muse to find somewhere to perch so they can be eye level with taller muse. 

[ INTERRUPT ]  for shorter muse to stop during the middle of a conversation and stand on a chair/sit on a table so they can be eye level with the taller one. 

[ GIVE ]  for the taller muse to place their jacket around the shorter muse’s shoulders,  the garment essentially ‘swallowing them whole.’

[ TAKE ]  for the taller muse to find the shorter one has ‘borrowed’ a shirt/sweater/jacket etc.  which is oversized on them.  

[ GO ]  for the taller muse to pick up the shorter one and carry them away from a potential/just started fight. 

[ RIDE ]  for the taller muse to give the shorter one a piggyback ride so they don’t have to keep up. 

[ SEE ]  for shorter muse to insist on getting to ride on the taller one’s shoulders.  

[ FIND ]  for the taller muse to lift the shorter one by the waist so they can reach something. 

[ EMBRACE ]  for the taller muse to lift the shorter muse off the ground when they hug. 

[ CATCH ]  for the shorter muse to run and jump into the taller muse’s arms. 

[ CARESS ]  for the taller muse to pick up the shorter one to kiss them. 

[ GIVE ]  for the shorter muse to stand or climb to sit on a higher surface to demand a kiss from the taller one. 

[  PULL  ]  for the shorter muse to tug the taller one down by the collar to kiss them. 

[ URGE ]  for the taller muse to tilt the shorter one’s chin up so they can look at their face. 

[ LOWER ]  for the taller muse to kneel in front of the shorter one so they’re less intimidating. 

[ HELP ]  for the taller muse to use the advantage of their stature to shield the shorter one from something. 

[ AID ]  for the taller muse to pick up the shorter one to lift them over something  (  stairs,  while hiking, a large puddle etc.  ). 

[ INSIST ]  for the shorter muse to guide the taller one to sit so they don’t have to keep looking up. 

[ COMFORT ]  for the taller muse to tuck their chin atop the shorter one’s head while they hug. 

[ MELT ]  for the taller muse to lean down so they can bury their face into the shorter one’s shoulder. 

[ GENTLE ]  for the smaller muse to hug the taller one while they are seated so the taller one can hide their face against them. 

[ BLOCK ]  for the taller muse to stand in front of the shorter one to prevent them from having to see something. 

[ CUDDLE ]  for the taller muse to the big spoon. 

[ HELD ]  for the shorter muse to be the big spoon. 

[ TENDER ]  for the taller muse to kiss the shorter one’s head while they embrace. 

[ GENTLE ]  for the shorter muse to kiss the taller one’s chest while they hug. 

[ REST ]  for the shorter muse to lean forward and press their forehead against the tall one’s chest/shoulder while they stand in front of each other. 

[ TOUCH ]  for the taller muse to lean down and press their forehead to the shorter one’s. 

[ PRESS ]  for the shorter muse to take hold of the taller one’s face to pull them down so they can press their foreheads together. 

[ GAZE ]  taller muse is sitting and the shorter one who is standing in front of them takes their face into their hands while they talk. 

good morning my lovelies. sadly i have some doctors today, but i will be home by 4est to vibe. i had weird nightmares, which was lame. but i am surprisingly awake this morning. hopefully that keeps up and i can continue to chug away at stuff on here.

i hope you are having a great day! that everything goes the way you want. and your day is full of smiles!

୨୧╼ shipping call. cause i'm trash. violet's pan, no preference- let's get wild.

house of leaves starters. ୨୧ accepting

 ❛  i had to think fast.  ❜- prue ( @luminescenc1e )

୨୧╼ In many situations the ability to analyze and act quickly was a necessity. One wrong step could lead to peril. Therefore, Prue could only be commended for her actions. Even if the ripple effect of them had yet to come to fruition. The existence of magic was new to the woman, who generally deferred to science for life’s mysteries. She did not witness enough data to construct a hypothesis about anything when it came to the supernatural. 

     “As one must do often to survive.” The pink lips curved upwards into a gentle smile. “Are you okay though? I am sure the whole ordeal must have been quite taxing.” Even if one survived a high stakes encounter, it always left scars. Whether it be physical, emotional, or both. ”Is there anything I could do for you?” Violet drew closer, “I always find a nice  root beer float always cheers me up.”

୨୧╼ Against the dreariness of the abandoned industrial background, Violet stood out. The way she held herself was filled with pose and grace akin to one of Degas’ ballerinas. She was dressed immaculately in a style defined as modern retro. Yet if one had a keen eye, they could catch that the ribbon that held up her hair had survived a fire. Petite frame and height made her appear physically non-threatening. Something that often worked in her favor.

        Doe-eyes looked up at the stranger’s herculean form. If Violet had been anyone else – perhaps she would find him threatening. After facing so many monsters, she found fear hard to muster. One could not tell someone’s intent by appearance alone. Villains came in many forms and often in a variety of disguises. A person who seems suspicious could offer aid at a time of need. It was still best to be cautious. Slender fingers clasped tighter around the dart. Which by appearance alone seemed indistinguishable from one might find in a game parlor. 

        “I have found one cannot rely on the word of the municipality. As corruption and power go hand in hand. However, I cannot deny this building is documented as vacant.” Violet’s voice was steady -unafraid. It was clear from her articulation and cadence that she was educated in high society. Even if those days were long gone. “Could I not inquiry the same of you? I apologize if I am wrong – but you do not exactly look as if you belong here either.”

        If Violet had been a properly trained volunteer, perhaps she would handle this better. As a mother herself – she understood her parent’s choice to keep her out of the organization. Yet at times like these, she wished for just a day of disguise training. Or had and iota or her mother’s acting talent. She genuinely felt her guises and fibs worked, not due to her ability – but by the incompetence of those around her. The man in front of her had the eyes of someone who was keen and determined. So, she wished not to press her minimal luck that he could see past a mask.

        “I have business here. As you see, this building has suffered fire damage. I am investigating it.” The best lie – was always a half truth. It was the very same organization that she sought who was to blame. According to her research, the former owners would not sell. Fires were always how they settled scores. “The local arson rate has accelerated over the past few months at an expediential rate. I find it very worrying.” Not once did she confirm whether she had explicit permission to be there. One should never show their hand before the appropriate time.

        The commonplace book in Violet’s lap was open. Filled with sketches of the opposite building’s exterior and what looked like the designs for various gizmos. All basic drafts of things she could use infiltrate. “Beverly,” A faux name she had used since her first true disguise. Where she was forced to perform in a cruel ‘freak show’ – that was unethical and outdated. There were times her nightmares were plagued by the sounds of lions devouring Madame Lulu and the blaze of the fire that burnt the carnival to the ground.

        Now was not the time to get lost in the horrors of the past, when the present was equally terrifying. There were children who suffered in the hands of the same criminal enterprise that stole her life. Personal feelings could not cause her to waver here. Her gaze went from him to out side the window, where smoke plumed from stacks and machinery buzzed. A small sigh escaped her full lips. 

This war you're waging will never end.

And what did Frank Castle even know, anymore? A good, home-cooked meal? No he'd forgotten that. He hadn't eaten something made by hand in too many years to count. (He'd never have Maria's spaghetti sauce again.) A warm, clean bed with fresh sheets? No he'd forsaken that for motels and dingy holes in the wall where the fabric scratched his skin and had been feasted on by moths at some point but at least it was something warm, right? The love of a good woman? No, no he'd lost that, too. In an instant, right there with his little girl and Junior and there hadn't been a god damned thing he could do to stop it. He'd been through the phases; blamed himself, blamed others, rationalized, bargained internally, but anger ... anger stuck. Anger made sense. It felt right.

Anyone tied to the deaths of the Castle family had been dead and buried more than a year prior. No loose ends, no mess. If anyone so much had breathed their names with any ounce of ire Frank had come for them like the executioner he was, and put them down like the sick dogs they were. Because it was right. Because it settled something in him that had broken back in Kandahar. Because he thought he could find some semblance of peace.

And he did, it was true. Some part of him found proper footing knowing that the people who'd hurt him, stolen from him, were gone. But it didn't bring them back. Peace? No. That was only found putting people down. He accepted that now. It was who he was.

The Punisher.

So he punished.

On the scale of moral judgment, things that he considered pure and unfettered wrong was anything to do with children. They could be assholes sure, Frank had been the king asshole of them all when he was young, but they were innocent. They didn't deserve to be preyed upon (what if it had been Lisa?) or sold out to the proverbial mines (what if it was Frank Jr.?). He calmed his nerves before every go-around ... not because he was afraid but because he knew it would appease him too much if he didn't filter it. If he didn't shut that part of his brain off before he kicked down the door and did what he did best.

One batch, two batch.

All of the pennies and dimes in the world wouldn't stop him from following the trail.

And he'd left one hell of a bloody one behind him so far. There was a string connecting these work houses, he knew. He'd picked up the scent after the second, when the conditions were too similar and the kids had leashes held by the same hands. He'd bleed his way up the food chain, shake down enough of these operations to catch the attention of someone worth torturing information out of. He'd go from there. But for now? He'd watch.

Case too-large to be luggage in hand, nondescript duster jacket, military reg boots and a bit of hardware that might make the average Joe squirm and he was on his way into the nest across the street. He'd scoped it the day before - it's vantage points were primo, and he could post comfortably (not that it mattered) for a few hours and watch through a scope before he acted. It was abandoned, which was perfect, and at the very least he could work undisturbed.

Or ... it was supposed to be abandoned. The picture of one of Lisa's little books he did not expect to see - spyglass and all.

Whose there?

Fingers tightened around the handle of the rifle case. Nondescript, blended just enough but suddenly he seemed out of place et al.

"You supposed to be here, lady? City marked this building as abandoned."

୨୧╼  Thanks to faux documentation crafted by Violet’s brother Klaus; she was able to exist amongst monsters. Even if being in their presence alone made her stomach churn. Yet she did not have the luxury to avoid them, she would do what she needed to survive. At least long enough to help the resistance accomplish something. 

       The poor manner in which he spoke German actually made Violet giggle. Languages not taught from a young age were difficult to learn. She did not judge him; the effort was appreciated. “It is quite alright.” Though her accent was still present, she spoke English clearly. “I am not good at what you do. I have read your file, very impressive.” When he inquired if she was Violet, she offered a curt nod. 

       Violet took a key that hung around her neck and used it to unlock a door clearly marked ‘Employees Only.’  Once inside she locked the door behind them, before she led them down the stairs. Slender fingers flicked the light switch. The room illuminated to reveal a workshop filled with various tools, inventions, and weapons. “The Nazis have made astonishing progress in technology. It is my job to take salvaged equipment apart, figure out how it works – and repurpose it for our cause. Do you have a preferred weapon type?”  

Blazkowicz's standard issue boots' heavy steps, taken in similar cadence to an army march, were unmistakable. His eyes, cold blue, narrowed as they scanned the establishment. Contact's supposed to be here. He caught sight of a few Nazis five pints deep and scowled. Felt like he was gonna throw up in his goddamn mouth. Of course he hated the bastards. But if he killed them now, he was a dead man, too. And if he were a dead man, they might never learn about what in the goddamn hell them krauts were doing in that big honkin' castle of theirs.

When he was addressed, he wiped the scowl (and the glare that had been directed at no one) clean off his face, and turned around. He wasn't in disguise -- uniform wasn't done being custom-tailored for him -- and thank God for it. If he had to spend any more time than he needed to in that thing, he might just do something he'd regret.

That must've been her. Sure looked like the description. Tall, slim, braids, pretty face, dark hair.

"Yes... let's," BJ responded in German. He could practically hear Agent One chastising him now: 'your German? Frankly, it's atrocious.'

"Sorry. My German isn't very good. Better at the whole, y'know... other parts of my job," he whispered once they were clear of any prying ears. "You Violet?"