open post ✧✧

[cyclical]

𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭
✧ choose a character
✧ call them out: put their name in the comment header
✧ leave a prompt (picture, text, music, quote, etc!)
✧ leave a blank comment if you want to really choose a wildcard and i'll yolo
✧ nsfw and smut a-okay!
✧ assumed cr a-okay

Comments

Solo stuff

[parsec]

@ glinda

[brainlessly]

while pink might be a good color for me
you really should stop leaving your panties behind
my roommate may think they’re for him 😉

@ lithes

[brainlessly]

[ there are a dozen ways they end up like this, but this time it started on the way to a class on ozian law and politics - particularly a section on his own world, the politicking his father had been involved in. but it's politics - something he knows enough about for a lifetime, and something he's sure that glinda might not be to keen on, either. but there's the temptation to make her skip a class, and they've just rounded an empty corridor when he crowds her up against one of the walls with an easy grin. ]

I have an idea, my sweetness.

[ most students have made it to classrooms by now, but they are always so fashionably late when they have courses together. he noses in close, grinning mouth nipping at the tip of her nose all the while one hand dares to slide along her thigh, rucking up her skirt. ]

A very wicked idea. One that will make everyone whisper behind their fans and text books. If we don't show up for class, they will have to guess at the many fantastical places we could be. And you and I could do some other fantastical things instead.

@ koby - college au

[brainlessly]

[ there are a thousand ways to make your mark in a school and fiyero's happens to be getting expelled. which means he's trying out a new school that his father insists on. one that he's bored at already, one that he's already found the heart of its drama and plucked it to life - nudging upperclassmen to throw parties, for sororities to open their doors after hours, for the sneaking of liquor into dorm rooms.

but oddly, fiyero's grades are exceptional. well, except for one of his communications classes - one that requires great detail and chronicling and organization. they require group projects, too, which is even worse. group projects means he has to work with some semblance of responsibility all the while trying to look like a slacker. it's very difficult, very annoying.

he's just arrived for his third session with a pink-haired boy named koby and they're tucked in one of the library study rooms in the far back some time after dinner. the library has quieted down, thankfully, and it's given them the freedom to roam and find more sources for their cataloguing project.

fiyero, true to form, is leaning high on the table, elbow propped, chin in his hand, sitting impossibly close to koby to watch him work. ]

You do realized that chewing on your lips like that gives a guy the wrong impression, right? [ a winning, sparkling grin. ] Someone's going to walk right up and kiss you one of these days, or ask you out to get a taste of them on their own.

[ and whoops - is that fiyero being too forward when he reaches to brush a thumb across his bottom lip? sure is. ] See?

i'm so sorry for how unhinged this is going to be

[disarrayed]

New York City reeks of car fumes and sewer in a way that makes Will's nose burn. He hated it when he was mortal and he hates it even more now that his senses have all been dialed up a few notches. It doesn't have any of the old-world smell that Italy did, and it's the farthest he's been from his maker since he was turned - but it's for the better. Staying tucked close to Louis' side will never get him closer to Hannibal Lecter.

So he follows the trail - murmurings of the man, and sometimes he reaches out with his mind in search of his thoughts. It's not easy hunting down the thoughts of a mortal monster in the same way it's easy to seek out the mind of other vampires. (Will has done a lot of listening in - eaves dropping where he shouldn't be, letting his mind play and wander with the new and terrifying gifts he's been given).

But here they are - New York. New York where he last tracked Hannibal. New York where there's rumor of a reporter. The same reporter that Louis skirted around, the one who wrote the very same book Will picked up and opened at the home of his maker. (Wrapped in plastic - he should have asked, first, but it had been out on the table in the little en suite sitting room).

"You're Daniel Molloy," quiet, a voice from the other side of Daniel's kitchen. Maybe the older vampire felt him or heard him or smelled him coming. It's hard to say - but it doesn't exactly look like Will cares. "I've read your book."