saltburnmods: (Default)
π–˜π–†π–‘π–™π–‡π–šπ–—π–“π–™ π–’π–”π–‰π–˜. ([personal profile] saltburnmods) wrote in [community profile] draino2024-09-07 10:00 am
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𝐈 πƒπŽπ'𝐓 ππŽπ‘πŒπ€π‹π‹π˜ π‹πˆπŠπ„ π‚π‡πŽπ‚πŽπ‹π€π“π„ π‚π€πŠπ„ β–£ SEPT TDM





SEPTEMBER 2024 TDM: LUGHNASADH


Welcome to SALTBURNT, a panfandom smut/thriller game based off the film Saltburn, where characters are encouraged to indulge their deepest desires. The money never runs out and the liquor never stops pouring, so you may as well indulge from the bounty. Of course, things are rarely what they seem, and the manor itself seems to have a consciousness of its own. Throw parties, trash the house, engage in youthful merriment, but remember β€” dangers come out at night, and no one, no matter how rich you are, is safe from demons lurking in the shadows.

Threads can be considered game canon, provided the players agree. Players can also start fresh upon acceptance into the game. In game characters can post to the TDM directly, using Β« NEW CHARACTER/IN GAMEΒ» in the header. There will be a spot below for new characters to link their toplevels for easy access. Alternatively, prompts on the Test Drive can be used for in game logs.







WELCOME TO SALTBURNT


It's the hangover more than the light streaming in through half drawn curtains that wakes you up, your brain rattling in your skull, your mouth dry and cottony, your stomach churning with whatever it is you drank last night. If self preservation is your strong suit, you might turn over in bed and see a few painkillers laid out for you on a silver dish, accompanied by a glass of water. If it isn’t, stay in bed and wallow β€” eventually a maid will be in to tear your curtains open, saying, "Breakfast is served," and scurrying out quietly, invisibly. Breakfast? Maybe it’s normal for you. Maybe it isn’t.

You're drawn from the room, either by the mystery, or an undefinable urge that could be supernatural in origin, or could be your hunger catching up to you. It's almost nostalgic, the walk to the dining room β€” have you been here before? Were you drawn up to this estate in a car? Haven’t you done all this already? Maybe you mosey around a library, maybe you run into your suite mate in your adjoining bathroom. Regardless, seemingly all hallways, covered in priceless artworks and ancient relics from times long past, lead to the dining room, where a comically long table houses the Balfours and their many guests, some who seem just as disgruntled and confused as you. No matter. "Breakfast will be out in a minute," they say. What's that?

EDIT SEPTEMBER 2024: For those who have attended breakfast with the Balfours before, a change in routine might come as a shock, given how rarely they stray from form. However, as of September, CARMY BERZATTO has taken over Head Chef position, alongside his cousin RICHIE JERIMOVICH and always the bridesmaid never the bride, SANJI. In place of the self-serve style breakfast, there is an elevated menu, including: a self-serve juice bar, with pitchers of various juiced fruit and vegetables, shaved ice, coconut water, green and black tea syrups, potted microherbs, sliced whole berries, and finger limes. There is also, naturally, liquor and champagne available. Guests can make their own drinks, or ask the allocated staff member to serve them one of the "specials" if they're feeling adventurous.

That said, these are world class chefs, so the gold is really in the menu:
THE EGGS

𝐓𝐇𝐄 π‰πŽππ“π˜: one runny boiled egg shelled and recoated in edible gold leaf, seated on a throne of fried bread soldiers, plated with whipped butter and italian parsley.
𝐄𝐆𝐆𝐒 ππ„ππ„πƒπˆπ‚π“: vinegar poached eggs with hollandaise foam on a bed of toasted freekah and baby spinach.
𝐄𝐆𝐆𝐒 π’π‡π€πŠπ€π’π‡πŽπ”πŠπ€: two eggs poached in a ramekin of pureed tomato, served with a crispy grilled cheese cut to dip.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 π’π˜πƒππ„π˜: french omelette with a light cheese filling, topped with crushed potato chips and chives.
πŽπ„π”π…π’ ππ‘πŽπ”πˆπ‹π‹π„π’: fluffy scrambled eggs in brown butter, served on sourdough.
π’ππ€ππˆπ’π‡ 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓: mini-quiche made with caramelized red onions and jamon pata negra ham.
𝐄𝐆𝐆 πŒπ‚π’π€ππƒπ–πˆπ‚π‡: bacon, egg, cheese and sausage breakfast muffin that tastes weirdly like it was made at a popular chain with golden arches.

THE SWEETS

❖ momofuku's "cereal milk" ❖
❖ fette biscottate with a sour cherry jam and peanut floss ❖
❖ a warm cinnamon bun served with a shot of espresso coffee for dipping ❖
❖ a macadamia-marzipan croissant with a wattleseed and burnt-honey filling ❖
❖ poffertjes with a liquid nutella injection ❖


If you want to leave, you’ll have to tell Giles, the housekeeper, who will arrange a car for you that mysteriously, or perhaps suspiciously, never arrives. Unfortunately, confronting Giles about it is near impossible, as he’s as good at being invisible as the rest of the house staff. Of course, there’s no reason why you can’t just walk out. The front gates are easy enough to jump over, even if the walk towards them gives you a strange sense of foreboding, or just outright discomfort, as if the ground itself doesn’t want you to leave. Those more sensitive or fragile might find they can’t make the jump, no matter how physically able, or desperately wanting. Still, a strong person could continue on, over the fence and into the lush English countryside. The feeling doesn’t dissipate, though β€” this sense of wrongness, almost sickness, like a weight on your back. Walk into the evergreen, carry on, but the strongest will make it perhaps a mile or so before the weight of dread and paranoia brings you to your knees, and then to your face, flat in the middle of a dirt road. What were you thinking? Is this really better?

Wake up with a hangover, in a bed, the curtains drawn, the maid saying, "Breakfast is served," before scurrying out. The painkillers are there, just like you remember. In fact, it’s all exactly how you remember, as if you never left an imprint the first time, or any mess you made was cleared away while your back was turned. Walk to the dining room, find everyone there eating away at their breakfast.

"We dress for dinner," says Portia, with a kind, if discerning smile. "Black tie."




ITSY BITSY TEENIE WEENIE

CONTENT WARNINGS: drugs, alcohol, nudity, potential for nsfw.
POOLSIDE PLAYLIST courtesy of Robin

It's an innocent enough, offhand suggestion from the mouth of one (1) DIARMUID about wanting to learn how to paint, and honestly, the house couldn't agree more: a party is necessary. As August winds down, it's important to go out with a bang, and what better way than through an explosive end of summer pool party? To say goodbye to the waning summer nights, the manor is throwing a pool party with an artistic neon twist. Per the growing complications of everyone's relationship status in this new age of bisexuality, polygamy, and pegging, glow-in-the-dark bracelets with matching solo cups have been set out with the appropriate labels β€”Β TAKEN, SINGLE, OPEN, and IT'S COMPLICATED, depending on your interest. Lounge by the water in your cutest bikini or trunks or nothing at all and engage in some very relaxing full-body painting using the supplies provided β€” that is, the paint is supplied, though brushes and sponges are few and far between. Better just to use your own body to paint your masterpiece. Put yourself on display as a model by the pool, or engage in a brutally competitive game of chicken fights, wherein the loser loses their clothes and the winner gets to keep them.

Not your style? Sneak off somewhere more private like the twinkling gardens illuminated with multicolored tiki lamps, lakeside decorated with bio-luminescent rocks, or the (perfectly safe, wolfless, we promise) maze to indulge in your inner desires. You might find that certain colors glow beneath the moonlight and unlock desires you’ve kept tightly under lock and key. It's hard not to feel impulsive or unrestrained under the full moon's light, with your body paint as armor. People might appear more attractive to you under this witching light like a magic spell cast β€” but really, you haven’t had any trouble with that, here. Have you?

If you’re thirsty, the house has tasked RICHIE, CARMY, and SANJI (dressed as cabana boys) with an extensive poolside drinks menu, since they’ve been so helpful with breakfast. Thanks, boys. Ask them for anything. In fact, ask them for everything. They're here to serve.

As the night closes out, turn your eyes heavenward for a spectacular fireworks show. Many apologies to those of you who suffer from PTSD; you can head inside for an early night and cover your ears with a pillow, but do be careful not to suffocate yourself, unless you're into that. The fireworks shimmer and shatter, and those watching closely might start to see hidden messages written in the stars for you, though is that your eyes playing tricks? Better ask that friend you’re snuggled up with. As anxiety weighs a little heavier on your heart, you might feel compelled to confess a few secrets on this last night of summer, big or small, something loving or not. Seek out that destructive habit, or take some steps toward healing. Let the fireworks drown out the noise.






FRUITS OF LABOUR


CONTENT WARNINGS: body horror, gore, cannibalism.

Saying goodbye to summer means welcoming in the new season, and as August nights turn into September mornings, the landscape of the grounds changes from verdant greens to egg yolk yellow and sunburnt orange, a gradient of autumnal colors. To that end, a week long festival erects outside to enjoy the last of the year's good weather β€” a generous harvest bounty fills up tables and tables of ample displays, full of ripened fruits and fresh baked breads, baked potatoes roasted in the coals of a bonfire, sausages, wheels of cheese, marshmallows, cider and apple juice, tomato soup, apple and blackberry compote, rhubarb crumble, all richly decorated in sunset hues. Among the servings, anyone with a birthday in August or September will find themselves a individualized cake, perhaps with some motif to define them, otherwise just with the harvest decorations of gourds, leaves, wheat, and fruit. Alongside that, a new smaller maze has been made from hay bales on the lawn. During the day it's just a silly and fun maze, but at night it takes on a new form and characters can easily become lost and find themselves in a maze that seems to go on forever, with the ominous lowing of a bull somewhere in the distance. Luckily, everyone is released at daybreak, maybe a little traumatized, but all in one piece.

What would a festival be, without some games to indulge in? Around the celebratory grounds, there are four pumpkins painted gold, hidden around the festival. Anyone who finds one is entitled to a boon from your very generous hosts (join the race HERE). Hunting not to your tastes after the last few goose chases? No worries, there's plenty still to do β€” from apple bobbing, jumping over bonfires, throwing discus/shotput, horseshoes, and more, it's a festival jam packed with games and prizes to be won, from little jars of handmade jam from France, to stuffed chicken plushies, to tin cans with the labels ripped off, full of ... well, it's anyone's guess, really. Crack it open and find out!

In honor of the handfasting ceremony, characters are selected at random and tied together at the wrist, much to everyone's amusement. Once knotted, the ribbon will not give way under any physical or magical duress, meaning you'll be stuck together until the tie undoes on its own. It could be day, a night, two nights, or more, but it seems like the ribbon is waiting for something in particular β€”Β a genuine heart to heart, maybe? Consummating the marriage? Hopefully you like the person you're tied to, because you're going to be spending a lot of time with your temporary spouse, in immediately close quarters.

At the end of the week, there's a final end of summer ceremony, wherein the vampire ARMAND is given special homage for being an especially adored guest, donned in floral regalia and ordained with crowns of flowers, much to his growing malcontent. In fact, he and all the vampires present in house seem to be given the regal treatment from the staff with less grand flower crowns of their own, honored at the head of the festival's final gluttonous table, lined with naked, giggling bodies covered in autumnal produce, sprouting mushrooms, blooming flowers, and distinctly meaty dishes β€” steak and kidney pie, blood sausage, pumpkins stuffed with zebra meat. It's only after you drink the wildflower tea and locally (Very, Locally) crafted beer that things start to feel a little off. The happy bodies used as serving platters look sometimes, between one blink and the next, like masticated corpses, the gourds and fruits set more deeply in the cornucopia their opened chest cavities make. Despite that, there's no real sense of death in the air β€” get a better look, and you might find the veins of the dead work more like the vines for the plants, giving them life.

The question becomes: which is the hallucination? The smiling faces or the blooming corpses?

Though hysteria rankles through the crowd the more people come to terms with the visions they're seeing, given the population at the head of the table, it's a fairly easy riddle to crack. Can vampires eat the cursed food? In short: yes, they can. Sorry we made you eat people again.



DIRECTORY


beneficiary: (81)

[personal profile] beneficiary 2024-11-02 09:16 pm (UTC)(link)
( Aegon will simply hear the truth of the hurt from Aemond later, knowing full well out of the both of them Aemond is most likely to talk. Mention of a looking glass is a small enough distraction as the Targaryen does his best to figure out what is even being spoken of, eventually settling on the small object that had been gifted upon arrival. Barely any time had been spent trying to understand it, but at least Aegon had some forethought to carry it with him.

Someone will definitely need to show Aegon the Second, King of many titles how to use the thing later on, but for now ignorance is bliss and he can't help but glance over and grin at the more scantily clad people nearby as his mother drags him away.
)

What?! ( All indifference instantly evaporates as Aegon hears the word truce on the heels of name drops he'd rather forget. His arm is wrenched quickly from Alicent's grip as Aegon stills in place, the fury at such a preposterous thing clear across his face. There's dragonfire in him, it's merely reserved for the other side of the family these days it would seem. )

Not only are they here, but you decided to negotiate a truce with them? Our enemies?!
dwelt: (pic#17456006)

[personal profile] dwelt 2024-11-02 10:04 pm (UTC)(link)
[he snorts, pulling off his partially laced boots - they'd been tied loosely - and padding over to the end of the bed. he stands there for a moment only to look with a distant adoration. a world where Nick can sprawl in a bed that is designated to be his own, he briefly thinks that he could be comfortable here. the thought is quickly washed away by the haunting reality that none of this will last.]

I still think my bed at my parent's trumps them.

[he'll take advantage of what he can. he crawls lazily, hands and knees making the mattress dip, into Nick's space. limbs find themselves beside his body as he holds himself above him. the rosary around his neck finally makes an appearance, slipping out of his shirt and threatening to brush up against Nick's nose. more soft glances, from his eyes to lips and neck to eyes again. no one receives as much honest love from August as Nick does, and while he holds his gaze he thinks about kissing him but doesn't, content in suspending them in the moment.]

Hi.
chokedout: (008)

[personal profile] chokedout 2024-11-03 02:43 am (UTC)(link)
So you're a Pick Me?

[Gasp.]

So am I.
scaphoid: (022)

taps window hello sry i was simply inspired

[personal profile] scaphoid 2024-11-03 09:29 am (UTC)(link)
[ markie isn't the only one struggling with the fireworks. harrow is--overstimulated, would be her best guess, her ears wadded up with bone and a dark veil pulled across her eyes, but even all that not enough to stop harrow from flinching minutely every time a bang goes off overhead. subtle, but perceptible if anyone is paying attention, which is the main reason for her pushing away fro the gathered throngs of people and away to the outskirts.

the bone doesn't muffle the sounds of cries either, not when she's far enough away for the overlapping chatter to fade out, but harrow isn't particularly compelled by sympathy. honestly, harrow might have ignored the other young woman entirely, if it weren't for the display of magic going on in front of her.

it's like nothing that harrow has ever seen, close and so far away from anything that she can do in the same breath, reminiscent only of necromancy in the way that any power is reminiscent of itself.

her fingers twitch where they are jammed deep into her pockets and she roots around for the bony knuckles rattling around loose in there, as the bones jammed into her ear canals turn to dust and pour out of them. she has, it seems, decided that better hearing will be worth it. ]


Are you well?

[ an odd question to open with, maybe, given that the situation doesn't exactly scream "i'm doing great", but harrow just gives a curious tilt of her head, surveing the dead, rotting grass, the blackened burns creeping up her skin--maybe more than she's looking at the girl within it all. her tone is calm, minutely intrigued, and her expression is unreadable behind the shrouded veil and skull painted dark across her face. ]
unapparent: (145)

[personal profile] unapparent 2024-11-03 01:16 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Immediately, Alicent scoffs in answer, levelling him with an oft-received look (that says you imbecile) before she crosses her arms. It hurts a little, in truth, for her sons to shrug her off, thinking her mad or stupid, depending on the day (and the son).

Her gentleness in the face of his miraculous turn wars with her ever/present frustration for control of her twitching limbs. Ugh. ]


Have you an army or dragon to declare war with? [ in a sharp hiss, through gritted teeth β€” ] You do not seem to have a shirt to your name, Aegon, [ a fluttery gesture to his scantily clad person. ] let alone a weapon.

[ if he even knew how to use a blade half as well as his younger brother. She doubts it. Too many lessons shirked for drinking and whoring. And this is the boy you would have as the king. ]
longlegs: ? n (068)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-11-05 06:38 am (UTC)(link)
[ She should be more upset. Or maybe her current type of upset shouldn't have the undertone of ah fuck, I can't believe you've done this again, but Cellar lives in a reality that most would rather call a hallucination in order to keep their sanity intact. Accidental cannibalism was already on her cursed bingo card. ]

Who even were those people?
longlegs: s (085)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-11-05 06:44 am (UTC)(link)
[ A gasp! A light smack on Theo's shoulder! ]

Ass. [ You know what? Let her spread that paint on his cheeks some more. ] You know a guy saying that he's a Pick Me is like, Pick Me inception, right.
dwelt: (pic#17480132)

[personal profile] dwelt 2024-11-05 05:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[he brings his shoulders up for an exaggerated shrug, palms out. he doesn't know how to answer her. who they are, what they are. he has theories, could spill a variety of answers that may or may not make sense. scratches those thoughts out, because he's coming up empty.]

Do you want the long answer or the short answer? What I have is kind of ... [bullshit] unreliable.
longlegs: ? n (005)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-11-06 09:11 am (UTC)(link)
I've got time. [ But they both drank, August considerably more than Cellar, and Cellar on a empt(ied) stomach. ] ... You must be tired, though, huh.
dwelt: (Default)

[personal profile] dwelt 2024-11-06 04:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[she's not wrong - he hasn't slept much since he got here, save a snooze he managed in the early hours. it was the type of nap that only happens after giving up on sleeping during the night and dawn is breaking.]

Yeah.

[reluctant admittance; he doesn't like that it's obvious. he makes to circle back around, nudging her shoulder with his again.]

I overheard people talking, and you sort of confirmed some of it. I think we're in some god's idea of Eden. You know Dionysus? He'd love something like this, but it doesn't feel right to say a god, either. [he scrunches his nose, deliberating.] Not that I've met any. I said the magic here is twisted, but it's obviously more complicated than that. No way one regular person or group of people could pull off bringing us from other worlds.
longlegs: n (070)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-11-06 08:14 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Cellar does a little movement with her head, the hint of a smile in the corner of her lips when their shoulders bump. Then she gets serious again. ]

Doesn't have to be a god. Pretty sure most of them are just human creations. But they're probably based on what's actually out there, so who knows.

[ And what ever could that be? She's looking up to find the moon, hidden by silver clouds, a thoughtful frown across her face. Might as well bring up the reason why her real name is off-limits. ]

'You ever heard of RaΓ­z?
dwelt: (Default)

[personal profile] dwelt 2024-11-06 10:13 pm (UTC)(link)
[chewing on the inside of his cheek, he holds his tongue and wonders if she's met any gods. he's never read about something so bored and powerful that it'd want all of them here at once, like they're toys.]

No. [he glances at her, then follows her gaze upwards.] Is that your god?
longlegs: ? s (008)

[personal profile] longlegs 2024-11-06 11:03 pm (UTC)(link)
No. [ Like that should be obvious, but β€” is it? ] She's this thing that exists in a bunch of dimensions at once. She picked a human shape to do a little experiment with a bunch of us, like a contract. We do stuff for her, she gives us what we want at the end of it, so I guess she's our boss. I feel like that's what might happening here, because, like.

[ Uh. ]

It's not the first time I was tricked into… You know.

[ It pains her to say that. Ugh. ]
dwelt: (pic#17455976)

[personal profile] dwelt 2024-11-07 12:39 am (UTC)(link)
[oh. maybe they're not so different. his expression remains (mostly) unreadable when he looks at her again, trying once more to figure out her story without asking. he knows contracts all too well, but none like that.

what can he say to someone who's already tasted forbidden flesh? he can't. he's done things he can't remember, gotten blood on his hands and flecks of skin lodged beneath his nails, but he's never eaten anyone.
]

Is it worth it?

[he doesn't need her to explain being tricked. having another theory besides "put everyone in a sandbox to suffer" with no endgame feels better, but hearing what RaΓ­z does isn't comforting, either.]
meca: (028)

[personal profile] meca 2024-11-08 12:00 am (UTC)(link)
Your first life, my only life.

( just clarifying. this is oliver's face for oliver's lifetime, thank you. )

I don't care if you fuck around with my face, just don't an ass with it.
provoke: (salt β†’ 32)

cw: descriptions of burn injuries

[personal profile] provoke 2024-11-08 05:21 am (UTC)(link)
[ rook's rest has been months ago, a long while of watching aegon heal from the melted steel that has fused with his body. the wet, phlegmatic stench of his injuries still linger in aemond's memory - the crusting, open wounds, and the peeled flesh, and the melted fat that carved the blackened muscle too close to the bone.

his brother, once so golden, fallen from the sky in a dark and writhing heap. aemond will never atone for it enough, but he has to make peace with what he's done. he mustβ€”β€”
]

I've from a ways ahead from you. Mother as well, when you see her; she is herself here, but we do not keep to the same quarters or apartments.

[ aemond's eye rakes over his brother, coveting this of him β€” his whole self, healthy if a bit soured, no less beautiful in his drunken state than he is in lucidity. his vices never seem to touch him, in aemond's mind. if he could keep his brother like this, forever untouched by the war fought in his name, then everyone would be much happier.

he would feel less hurt for all that has happened since this war began.

after too long a pause, aemond begins again;
]

Rook's Rest is victorious, that is all you need to know. [ aemond pauses for a secondβ€” ] Is your head bothering you? You keep favouring one side.
chokedout: (118)

[personal profile] chokedout 2024-11-09 01:18 am (UTC)(link)
Do two Pick Mes become a Not Picked when together?

[What's the himbo-bimbo math? He also allows her to treat him as her canvas. This does involve licking his lips though, and wrinkling his nose when that inadvertently involves tasting the paint.]
extent: (tya208)

[personal profile] extent 2024-11-09 02:39 am (UTC)(link)
[ sacrilege has a different sort of weight to it when angels and demons actively take it upon themselves to mess with your friend's lives, there's the full weight of understanding that higher powers are real and nick doesn't give a damn about any of them when nick tilts his chin up enough that he can touch his lips to the bottom of the bead hanging above his face. he's never cared much for the gods anyway, who gives a damn. the only worship he's ever held was for his friends, anyway.

it's easy enough from there to bump his nose into august's chin, a light little touch almost as gentle as the kiss. ]


Hey, you.

[ nick knows that it's selfish to be so pleased with this. circumstances are pretty dire, even if he'd rather not think about all that, and here he is smiling up at august like it's his birthday or something. but he can't really bring himself to do anything else right now, other than smile and smile. it's just--been a while, and nick has missed him a lot, and he's never quite willing to ask people to come back in case they tell him no, but he's wanted to see august for a while. so, he smiles, and he leans his head up to meet august in a kiss even if it means he has to crane his neck awkwardly far, and he's still smiling through that, too. he doesn't even really break it when he speaks again, just sort of murmurs against his lips quiet enough that august really has to listen to hear. ]

I missed you, you know.
swimfan: (🐴 047)

[personal profile] swimfan 2024-11-09 05:40 pm (UTC)(link)
A lot of stuff. Tell me something you think I don't know.

[ It's not testable shit; she can make up whatever the fuck she wants and could be convinced it's real if this whole thing is made up. But whatever. It's better conversation than she usually gets for breakfast. ]
chokedout: (115)

i sat up last night and told myself to remember to find this bc i forgot it too, so here i am

[personal profile] chokedout 2024-11-09 08:56 pm (UTC)(link)
I'm good at all the things I love to do.

[Said with what could almost be a tangible ♥ at the end, lips pressing a kiss to the side of Iggy's shaft before his tongue swipes over it instead, washing it away. He licks up toward the tip, fingers curling around the base to lazily pump before his mouth seals around his cock and he gets to work on a wetly attentive blow.]
dwelt: (Default)

[personal profile] dwelt 2024-11-09 09:18 pm (UTC)(link)
[oh, picture perfect. he's a sweet little thing beneath him, looking up at him with his trademark smile. he leans into the kiss, lowers himself enough so there isn't too much space left between them. he shifts one leg so it rests between Nick's own, and one arm finds itself next to his head, so his fingers can entangle themselves in Nick's hair.

that kiss, so earnest. velvet whispers against lips; he can't help but smile back. if this is the second chance he gets, he's going to take it. hearing those words send waves of familiar emotions to the surface, ones that he'd done so well to bury. surely he only means that he missed him as a friend, and it doesn't mean anything even if it sounds like a secret he doesn't want anyone else to know.
]

I missed you, too. [murmured back against the mouth August covets. he doesn't ask how much, he doesn't say how much, either. it feels like they're sharing something more without saying anything.] I'm going to keep you here for a while.
dwelt: (Default)

[personal profile] dwelt 2024-11-09 09:31 pm (UTC)(link)
[even if he tells her something he thinks she doesn't know, he's guessing that she'll rationalize it as bullshit her mind is making up, since he's the one saying it.

he'll start small.
]

Okay. Do you know the name Aleister Crowley?
beneficiary: (3)

[personal profile] beneficiary 2024-11-09 11:16 pm (UTC)(link)
( The look is more than enough to have Aegon drawing a deep breath as he squares his shoulders, biting down the obvious frustration at the knowledge that his mother does indeed think he's an imbecile. Such things have been spoken aloud before now and it's effective to have the Targaryen instantly feeling as if he's on the back foot already.. )

Do they? Where is their army or their dragons? ( In his mind it's all too clear; if none of them have an army or dragons, it is one of the few time they'll be on the most even of footholds. Despite the defiance he still subconsciously rubs at his arms at the motions, as if all too aware he's topless and as such, defenceless. )

So what is it you advise? To merely pretend that they are someone else? That they should be here without paying for their crimes?
dead_tongue: (nude)

lol

[personal profile] dead_tongue 2024-11-09 11:31 pm (UTC)(link)
I see.

[Murmured quite happily, because look: he doesn't have to do any work here. It's a nice change of pace. In fact, ever since arriving in the manor Iggy hasn't been sleeping with anyone at all. Just getting to relax and let someone else pamper him is a treat.

Which is to say that he doesn't do much beyond stroke Theo's hair back and murmur encouraging words. Eventually he does tug at his hair gently.]


I'm getting close. If you don't care, by all means keep going.
behavioural: (pic#17450456)

[personal profile] behavioural 2024-11-09 11:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Yea. ( a cautious one, isn't he? ) He's my best friend.

( he extends his left hand out as he introduces himself. )

Pierce Strickland.