( AN OPEN POST #2 )

[charmlessness]

 
 
 

you know the drill. pick your poison (not entirely limited to those listed). reply with a prompt in the form of a post, photo, song, text, voicemail, whatever your heart desires & receive a response. simple, right? right.

 
 
 

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( lydia )

[prescription]

[shesimmune]

( After the events of the last motel the supernatural gang of Beacon Hills stayed at, it'll come as a shock that they are, once again, at a motel. Granted, this one isn't known for its suicide numbers, so that's already refreshing.

They needed to get away after Allison's passing. Being in town felt too much like living in a city-sized graveyard, the ghosts of their friends following them wherever they went, so Lydia suggested that they get out of there for a while. Scott and Stiles were keen on the idea, and the next day they had packed their bags for a long weekend getaway.

The mountains felt like a bad choice — whatever lurked in the trees is something that none of them felt up for, so instead, they went south. And then east. Where they wound up was a small town on the border of California and Mexico (while still in the United States, of course, as none of them felt like going over the border), where it was hot, but not too dry, and if they wanted to go to a beach, it was only an hour's drive.

To make a long story short, they wound up finding a motel that was within their price range for Lydia to have her own bedroom, as there's no way in Hell she was rooming with both Scott and Stiles. Boys are heathens and she would rather chew her own leg off before sleeping in the same room as them.

She's lugged her bag up the stairs to the room she was assigned and locks the door behind her as she steps inside, bag set on a chair by the door. All but throwing herself on the bed, she rolls over to open the bedside dresser's drawer, hoping to find a remote to attempt to find something to watch while the boys are out grabbing food for the three of them. Instead, she finds a wallet and a handgun sitting next to the token bible; her immediate reaction is to slam the drawer shut again, eyes wide.

And in a moment that leaves her heart in the pit of her stomach, somebody then steps out of the bathroom. Lydia stands abruptly, stumbling over her feet back towards the door. )

... I think they gave me the wrong room key.

( abigail )

[prescription]

[novice]

( It was Abigail's idea, going back home. The train ride from Arizona back to Minnesota was a couple hundred dollars, but it was worth getting the police off the Gecko brothers' back. As it turns out, kidnapping a young girl paints quite the target on grown men's backs.

She didn't want to go, truthfully, which might sound odd to anyone that was paying any kind of attention to the news or who knew Abigail Hobbs was. Going from a murderous father to being taken hostage by two professional thieves. (What a life.) The original plan was to be home for good and never look back. There was no way to communicate with them. Disposable cell phones meant no phone calls or texts (not that either of those felt right), and constantly being on the move left no address to send letters.

She's never been all too fond of sticking to plans, which is how she finds herself in a small town in Southern California less than two weeks later. (That's right, Seth, she paid attention to all of those plans of yours.) Call it in a hunch, but the black car covered in red dust parked in the back of a cheap motel could only belong to two people, which is why she ultimately sits in an old chair outside the room, opting to toss small pebbles at the window rather than knock on the door. Police knock.

Abigail's a criminal when she's with the Geckos. )

( santanico )

[prescription]

[santanico]

( A common misconception about vampirism is that it's something that is immediately taken to.

The feeding is something you acquire immediately, the darkness is something that you adjust to, but the one thing that Santanico has never quite gotten over since she lost her mortal life is the fact that she can no longer spend even a moment in the sunlight. Artificial light is a poor substitute, and even though she knows what happens if she steps into sunlight, she still yearns for it.

She's not a prisoner of that temple parading as an exotic bar any longer, and for that, she's eternally grateful.

It's unspoken, how highly she thinks of Richie — not only for what he did for her, but for the person he is, himself — but if someone were to catch her looking at him when he's not paying attention, it'd be obvious. Like a shot to the heart. There is a reason she chose him to be the one to set her free.

She only hopes that he won't begin to resent her for what she's done to him, essentially taking his life in the light away from him and leaving him in the darkness. )

Where would you like to go?

( Rays of sunlight leak through shutters of the suite they've acquired, having grown tired of driving. (They'll need to feed, soon, especially the younger vampire, but for now they rest.) She's careful to avoid it as she takes a step closer to Richie, reaching up to rest the palm of her hand on his cheek, thumb softly stroking skin that will never again be kissed by the sun.

They possess the ability to go anywhere on the Earth — Santanico thinks it fair to give the decision to him, given everything she's put him through. )

( abigail )

[ramblin]

[novice]

( She'd gotten tired of being seen as a teenage girl everywhere they went. It shouldn't have bothered her quite as much as it did, but getting strange looks from everyone that passes them by on the street gets old fast.

Abigail doesn't ask for much. A small cut from whatever they get so that she can get the occasional treat for herself. A necklace that she's always wanted, a pair of shoes that she has to teach herself to walk in. She's still a girl, after all, astonishingly good with a gun or not. It's when they stop just outside of Hollywood that she gets the idea to make herself into something new. Expensive clothing stores in the alias capital of the world? It's only too easy to buy that little black dress and slip into that aforementioned pair of heels.

The brothers wear expensive suits everywhere they go, it's only natural for her to start to look the part too, right? At least, that's what she tells herself as she steps out of the bathroom to their motel room, smoothing out the skirt that stops just above her knees.

Richie disappeared a while ago to get food and ammunition, so when she leaves the room altogether, stepping outside into the night air, it's Seth she finds leaning against the wall. Suddenly she feels self conscious about her wardrobe. There's a reason she's always stuck to wearing jeans. )

Everything okay?

( lydia )

[ramblin]

[shesimmune]

( She swore she would never go driving in the middle of the night ever again. No, Lydia Martin learned her lesson many dead bodies ago, and she soon figured it would be best for her to just stay inside after the sun goes down, unless she's accompanied by someone else. She never seems to find corpses when she's with someone else.

Unfortunately, like many teenage girls, her resolve isn't so strong when it comes to things like this. The body of a girl is a strange thing, and it comes with random cravings that need to be given in to, else they only get worse and worse until you're left eating a half pint of Häagen-Dazs straight from the carton with a spoon.

Deciding that, for the sake of her thighs, she'd nip tonight's craving for something sweet in the butt before it becomes catastrophic, Lydia nabs her keys off her nightstand and heads out to her car.

It'll come as no surprise to anybody that knows her that the place she ends up is definitely not the supermarket down the road, but rather a small drugstore on the edge of town. Trees are thick behind it, and she's almost positive that nobody is behind the counter in the store, so why she goes in regardless is entirely beyond her.

The smell of blood is enough to have her gagging and spinning on her heel to run back out before she even sees the body, and is immediately stunned into stillness by a scream. A man; he sounds close. And what does she do? She runs towards it, of course, because the banshee can't ignore screaming.

After all, Lydia knows what happens when she's ignored. )

( deb )

[ramblin]

[metricfuckton]

( Debra Morgan didn't spend excruciating hours on homicide to take down thieves. If they'd only been robbing banks, she would've shoved this case off onto someone below her.

But they weren't.

No, these sons of bitches (or, a singular bitch, as they're brothers) that she's got her eyes on have not only been robbing banks — and the occasional lucky fella — blind all over the South, they've taken it upon themselves to also leave innocent people dead in their tracks.

So naturally, when they hit up a bank in Miami, leaving three police men dead — policemen that she personally knew, Deb immediately wanted on the case. They haven't left Miami, and that much she is certain of, because she's got roadblocks on every main road (and the occasional side road) that leads out of the city. Those motherfuckers weren't going to go anywhere without her knowing about it.

Which is how they — she and one of the Gecko (what a silly fucking name, right?) brothers — got to the predicament they're in now.

She doesn't look fondly on her time on Vice, what with all the undercover work as a prostitute and all, but having eyes all over the city does work to her advantage. Especially when she gets a call around 8 o'clock, saying one of the brothers she was looking for was spotted going into a taqueria. Needless to say, she hauled ass all the way to the place, gun held high as she ordered everyone but the sticky fingered asshole in question to leave the restaurant.

He makes a move to the back room; she fires, and it's turned into a goddamn mess that's now left blood on the floor of this fine ma 'n pa establishment.

She now stands back against a wall, gun gripped tight, waiting. )

You gonna fucking come out or am I going to have to call in back up to bring your ass out by force?

maleficent.

[warred]

[maleficents]

( She knows it'd be best to stay away from the kingdom after what she did, but Maleficent's long since stopped caring about what she should and should not do. It was around the same time her pesky sense of morality faded away when she had her very life ripped away from her.

Perhaps that's what leads her into the kingdom's walls, and to the castle. Pure, saturated spite. He took something special from her, she took something precious from him, and now it's time to rub it in.

It's easy enough to get in, though with the extra pairs of eyes keeping an eye on the castle, it really shouldn't be. It't not his fault King Stefan can't protect his castle from magic. A wave of her hand and the guards all but slip into a coma for the next hour, which will be long enough for her to achieve her goals.

It's been five years since she last saw him, the day she cursed his daughter to sleep for all of eternity. She never pegged him to be a man of faith, but when she finds Stefan, he's in a church. Praying for the life of his daughter, or to strengthen his walls, she's unsure, but knowing the greed of men, probably the latter.

She's watched the girl; she knows he hasn't come to see her even once since the day she was taken from the castle. This fact doesn't surprise her in the slightest. )

Has God given you the answers you seek?

abigail.

[suggest]

jessica.

[antes]

Adults™

[physiological]

( There are many things in the world that Jessica Drew regrets. Joining S.W.O.R.D, coming out of hiding in the first place, joining SHIELD (and through them, the Avengers) are just a few of these things. None of them come even remotely close to her regretting volunteering for the night watch after not sleeping the night before.

(And by volunteering, what she really means is Nick Fury told her she had no choice in the matter.)

She's just about positive that everything in the world would be more exciting than sitting on a roof silently with two other people and wait for something to happen in the building across the street. Oh, wait, there is something less exciting, though — being left with one person, rather than two.

It also becomes exponentially more awkward when that person is her guy-friend-that-she-maybe-has-not-friend-like-feelings-for. (The world boyfriend? Totally over-rated, not to mention for children. Obviously her way of looking at it is much more mature. Obviously.)

She's avoided — or perhaps assisted — any kind of uncomfortable situations by making endless food runs. In her defense, they've also helped to keep her awake, given the fact that she's running on fumes by now. When she returns this time, she's holding two large, steaming styrofoam cups with lids. She offers one to Clint. )

Coffee?

( Yup. Mature, functional adults that help defend this fine country's safety. )

santanico. (screech hi idk)

[forgive]

yolo fight me about it

[barred]

( maleficent )

[namely]

o7

[maleficents]

( Once a thrilling and beautiful place to be, the Moors became something like a prison to Maleficent in her adult years. Those who look upon it say it's not lost any of its beauty; that it's still the enchanting kingdom it once was.

It's true that physically the realm had not changed, and she admits to this, but the faerie woman's views towards her home are very different from they once were. That's what happens when the wrath and greed of men touch something — it becomes ruined. Something that was once seemingly untouchable and pristine turns to spoil and ruin. Somewhere that was a reminder of everything beautiful in the world becomes the only place safe from what's been ruined by man.

Because of this, she tends to keep to herself (And the occasional acquaintance, or — even rarer — friend.), as she does tonight as she walks to the lake bordering the kingdom of Man. It's cold, perhaps even too cold to set foot in the water, but this doesn't stop her. It's a welcomed chill — one that reminds Maleficent that she's still alive, though she's felt for a long while as if she wasn't.

Her life might have been taken from her when her wings were. That's how much they meant to her.

A wave of her hand and her robes are replaced by something substantially more short and thin; something that would make sense to get wet. That's when she hears him behind her. )

Care to join me, Diaval? If you can't swim, I can always turn you into a fish.

( surprise me )

[prescription]

( deb )

[impunity]

( deb )

[impunity]

maggie.

[else]

scott.

[industria]

( margaret )

[bankroller]

Plenty of humans were monstrous,
and plenty of monsters knew how to play at being human.

( lydia )

[fyi]

( wildcard )

[audaciter]

angela.

[notoriety]

heeeey au

[ianotti]

( She doesn't remember Italy, though she gets bits and pieces. The rocky shores of a beach on the Mediterranean, the orange glow of a sunset over the hills, the smell of freshly sautéed olives and garlic.

Yet, Angela yearns for it. The languages falls off her tongue on accident, and she feels like a stranger in her own body; as though she's betrayed her family by not knowing anything about them anymore. She doesn't know how she got to the United States, how she came to be in Atlantic City.

She's made it her life work to find out exactly this.

The sky is grey and overcast, her skirts blow in the wind as the sand beneath her feet shifts with each step. Music is heard above her on the pier as children run around and give their parents a chore to chase them through crowds on the boardwalk.

Beneath the entertainment, the dancing and the singing, he waits for her, and Angela doesn't like to keep anybody waiting. They're alone, as he promised they would be, and she greets Alphonse Capone with a small nod of her head. Curls that are tucked securely beneath her hat fall around her face.

Underneath the thick fabric of her skirts hides a blade. Long and sharp, nestled up against her calf, secured in a sheath tucked into her sock. It never leaves her, and she keeps it a secret. )

I hope you didn't run into too much trouble to get here.

( lydia )

[dabbling]

[ this town's a bloody shithole. he can smell it about ten miles out; the whole thing reeks of teenagers' hormones and wolf bollocks.

he tells himself he could go the other way. chas has never been particularly fond of california, and he's not half fancy of it on his own, either. they say it's a beacon, of sorts — as if "beacon hills" wasn't cliched enough for you, here, let's have a pun, eh? — that it calls out to the supernatural in a way that might do up a shiver or two.

that's not why they're here, of course. it's rather a happy circumstance that they've made it past the state line, after a messy exorcism stint he'd had here back in the 80s. the same stint, in which, he'd found himself shacked up with a sort of harbinger of death: a banshee, one lorraine martin. she'd been out in los angeles when they'd come to know one another, but her heart never really left this cocked up spit of a town.

so, when he mutters to chas around a cigarette about taking a left instead of a right, he knows to do the opposite. they haven't happened here for nothing. there's trouble in them there hills, and he made a promise a long time ago to look after the next banshee that managed to find its way down the line. she's all spitfire red and a smile like her grandmother's; forgive him for keeping tabs on the girl, only doing his civic duty-like.

they've arrived none too soon. after the bit with the druids, the nogitsune bastard, and whatever the bleeding hell the argent girl had been turned into, there's talk of a storm brewing overhead. a storm that's like nothing they've ever known before. john's on the edge of his seat when he hears it. chas peels into gear, taking off toward the familiar wail.

when they arrive, john doesn't waste time. they're outside the local high school when he steps from the car. he tosses his cigarette to the wayside and raps his knuckles on the window. chas lowers it and john nods. ]

Keep an eye out, yeah? Kids out after curfew — nasty business.

[ he flashes his mate a grin and pulls his collar around his neck. the waves of her scream still resonate throughout the air. so much so, it's only a matter of tracing them to the source. he sighs as he pulls open the front door. ]

Right. School's back in bloody session, then.

[shesimmune]

( it's in the a.p. biology lab that she finds them — the bodies. at least a dozen of them, all displayed on the dissection tables primarily used for frogs and fetal pigs. clearly these people aren't meant to be a biology lesson, as they're (from what she can see in the darkness of the room) covered in precise carvings in a language that she can't discern. (the linguist deep inside of her cringes at the thought, but that's neither here nor there.)

like clockwork, from deep inside lydia martin's chest comes the uncontrollable scream that goes hand-in-hand with death. it rings through the empty hallways and she's sure that every being with a supernatural sense of hearing within a ten mile radius has heard it.

a couple of minutes drag by as she tries to steady herself from the oncoming spell of dizziness that comes with being so close to so many corpses. the idea alone is enough to leave her palms sweating, but the smell of the decaying flesh is far too much for her to handle. she quickly steps outside, back against the door of the lab and takes a deep, stomach-settling breath.

she's finally calming down when she hears it. even with her heart pounding in her ears, the sound of a door being opened can't be missed. the creaking followed by the familiar click of a large metal door falling back into place tells her that it's the front door of the school, which successfully traps her inside the building, given the fact that she's currently on the second floor.

her hand flies to her mouth in cover as her breathing quickens. the smart idea would be to go back inside the lab to hide, but in a room of dead people all screaming their stories at her, she would first go insane. the heels of her boots click softly (though not softly enough) on the tiled floor and she steps carefully to the edge of the stairwell and peeks over the railing.

of course, this plan goes to hell when her car keys that were dangling dangerously from her pocket slip out and fall down both flights of stairs. the rough sound of the metal keys jingling mocks her all the while. )

( river )

[policeman]

( river )

[policeman]

( amy )

[policeman]