Elle Joyner

I guess...
Roleplay Invitations
Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
Writing Levels
Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Probably a mix. When I GM I tend to prefer mostly aggressive, but with input from my players. I like to offer ideas and receive them. I don't like when people just take the reins and run with it though...especially in a 1x1.
Favorite Genres
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Genre You DON'T Like
Anime. Ever. Just not my jam.

Smut. Romance as a main plot. Horror. Grimdark.
There was frustration... certainly, in losing. Luca had plans that would never come to fruition now and the disappointment clawed at him now and again, a pinching uneasiness in his chest, that he'd failed her. But after his conversation with Chloe, albeit less informative than he would've hoped regarding her small slip, and after the heartwarming reunion with River, he was feeling marginally less hopeless.

Still... It was strange. Sitting around the table at dinner, looking forward to the grey colored slop and the irritable looks from inmates who had lost bets on them. His natural instinct was to threaten to give them something new to stare at (the inner lining of their collon), but with Chloe beside him, her fingers curling in and out of the hair at back of his neck, he couldn't find the urge.

Not everything born from the Dog Fights was bad...

"Oi, where's Hana?"

Looking up, Luca spied the duo from the first fight, the unlucky pair who had been forced to surrender. Chiko was no stranger to their group - but Amit had always been a bit of an outsider... Yet they were all united in a way. The other side of the Fights.

"Probably in the infirmary." Luca answered with a shrug, trying to fight the urge to answer passove aggressively. His anger there, at least, had not entirely abated, but there was no sense being ugly, "You two joining us?" He asked, gesturing to the empty spaces at their table, "That was some sick work today, Chiko... With the boomerang. Sorry 'bout your ankle. Feelin' alright?"


After their odd conversation with Gram, Pandora's mind has not stopped spinning. Things were moving in a direction she wasn't entirely sure she dared to trust, but also didn't dare doubt. They were in the thick of it, now, and whatever she might've anticipated following their victory in the first fight, particularly where Gram was concerned, escape was too damn important to let little things like someone trying to blow her up get in the way.

But it was also not the only concern smacking around in her brain. Switch, like clockwork, appeared at their table, an uncharacteristically sheepish aor about her as she asked to sit with them like an anxious kid at a new school. A brow raised, arching up towards her temple as Pandora's lip twitched in a smirk.

"Well, gee. I dunno Switch..." Idly, she looked to Abe, then back to Switch again, "This is the cool kid table. You sure you can handle it?" Without waiting for an answer, she kicked out a chair for her cellmate, "Sit, baby girl. How you feelin'?"


It was always awkward when one let slip a secret. Wicker had made a grave error in showing vulnerability that day, but it was something, she hoped, that might not haunt her indefinitely. Fritz's side, at least, seemed settled. Their incident in the infirmary played out well enough, and what had been a fun experiment, it seemed, had begun to shift into a genuine alliance... Her feelings were clear, and whether that served her greater purpose later was a matter of fortune's favor. Either way, the real issue was The Crybaby.

River had proven himself that day in spectacular fashion. She hadn't known until she'd viewed the recap what he had done, but knowing it now was damn near chill inducing... For all his shockingly violent twists and turns, however, there was still a twinge of a flaw in plan... And she needed to ensure that was dealt with, swiftly.

Looking to Fritz as he spoke, she reached up to give his hand on her waist a gentle pat, smiling fondly, "I feel like a whole damn princess, my darling." They were briefly interrupted and Wick's brow rose at the guard's words, but she didn't ask for clarification. Her king would tell her if it was important...

Instead, smiling, she gestured ahead of them, "Find us a table, would you? I'd like to go say hullo to Puddles and make sure he's prepared to deliver tomorrow." Leaning up onto her toes, she pressed a kiss to his jawline, and with a wink, separated herself from his side.

Her steps carried confidence, even as her heart gave an unconscious, uneasy throb. Poise...

Pausing at the slightly crowded table, she leaned down near where the young felon sat, "Little Lamb. A word... Por favor?"
 
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CloudyBlueDay

consistently inconsistent
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
I check as often as I can.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Both.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
Genre You DON'T Like
I am generally not a huge fan of RPing Fandom, but it can depend.
The Wicked Witch Arrives
with Elle Joyner Elle Joyner

River could feel Wick’s presence before she had even cleared her throat. He sat close to Chloe, mind spinning with the events of the first round, before and after. All the hungry looks that prisoners had shot him, the conversation with Bah, Chloe, Luca, and then Hana. There was turmoil in his gut, but being close to his friends, his family… made it less. Wick, in her sauntering over, brought it right back.

But he did not shrivel, taking a deep, angry breath, glaring at his barely touched prison gruel. “Puta.” He hissed under his breath, before standing up abruptly. “Just leave them alone, okay? We’ll go.”

“Tisk tisk, Puddle…” With a small smirk, she straightened as he did, “Such a dirty mouth for our little pup. Your friends will be fine. I just need a moment.” Gesturing, she nodded towards the edge of the cafeteria, away from the crowded tables, “We'll just be a moment.”

Gnashing his teeth together, River glared daggers at Wick, almost wishing they could be real. He gave the others what was supposed to be a reassuring nod, but the distaste in his expression was too prevalent to ignore. He followed Wick to the edge, fists balled at his sides. “What is it?” River muttered. “What else do you want from me?”

Still smiling, Wick shook her head as she tucked her hands behind her back, “So brave, aren't we… But then… you're a killer now, aren't you? Not our little weeping willow, anymore. So brave. It's charming.” Turning to face him, the smile faded and her eyes honed in on his, fixed, cold, “...Heading to the infirmary… when the fight ended. You may have overheard a certain… name. A mistake. I assure you, a rare occurrence. What I want from you… is to forget it. Immediately and permanently. Understand?”

“I a-already was a killer.” River hissed, eyes glassy. He hated the way her eyes glared straight through him, but refused to look away no matter how watery his own were growing. “And if I don’t?” River said, voice on the edge of a threatening whisper. “C-Cameron, huh? Y-your ex-lover? Your b-brother? Y-your… whatever? Cameron C-Cameron C-C-Cameron!”

“I'm sure you were, sweetie.” Wick answered, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. As he went on, however, her amusement flickered away. Stepping close, she kept her eyes locked to his, voice even, too even, “If you don't, the first one to go is the pretty blonde. Maybe a knife in the back during arts and craft… maybe an unfortunate fall. Hmm… a pillow over that darling face. After her, her little lover boy. Then the addict. The giant…” Pausing, she shrugged, “I think I've made my point.”

There was an obvious amount of fear in River’s eyes, but it was not the only emotion swirling evidently beneath his brown orbs. A fire, a determination, even if misplaced still raged within him. At first all her threats drained the color from his face, and yet, the rage didn’t leave.

“Y-you’re… a… liar.” He decided, without stepping down an inch. “You’re not a r-real psycho, r-r-remember? Y-you told me s-so. Y-you won’t. Y-you… d-don’t… own me.”

“You aren't wrong, Precious. I'm not. But one does not need to be crazy… to kill.” The smile inched back, and Wick tipped her head to the side, her eyes twisting casually over to the table they had walked away from, “And I will, Puddles. I will rip every single one of them from your hands and make you feel their ends.” Looking at him again, she shrugged, “Now… What was that name again?”

Instinctively River stepped in front of her, blocking her view from the table, steam pouring out of his nose and ears. “N-no. Y-you won’t. Because you can t-t-try, but I’m a killer too. And I’m really good at it.”

Almost shaking out of pure anger, River parted his lips. “Cam. Er. On.”

Laughing, faintly, an oddly icy sound, Wick shook her head, “So do it. Go on, Puddle. Kill me. Because I swear to you… I will end each and every one of them…. And I won't hesitate.”

River searched Wick’s gaze, hoping for her to break. Hoping for his act of bravery to somehow stun her into submission. But it didn’t happen. He took a step back. “I-I… w-w-won’t hesitate e-either.” River mumbled, trying to regain his confidence, but lacking the earlier conviction. “D-don’t touch th-them.”

“I won't need to. Don't you get it, River? I own more than you can imagine, and all I need to do is tell him what I want and it will be done. So let's try this one more time.” Meeting his gaze, her own steeled over, “What was the name?”

Another step back. River’s eyes darted between Wick and the table ahead of her. “W-why a-are you d-doing this? Wh-what good a-am I to you if I j-just remind you o-of someone y-you want to b-b-bury?”

“Don't…” Eyes narrowing, Wick took a small step back, but her expression barely shifted as she recovered herself immediately, “Don't you pretend to know anything about this. Just… play your part. That's all you have to do.”

“W-what p-p-part is that?” River growled, seeing that pause, the crack in her armor. He stepped forward, resuming the gap between them. “S-so h-he’s someone d-dead then, huh? S-someone you want back? S-someone you want to hurt, s-so you’re doing it to m-me?”

Hand lashing out, Wick grabbed the front of his collar, fist tightening around the gaudy orange fabric of his jumpsuit, eyes flaring, “What did I just say?! One more stupid question and you are gonna regret it, am I clear.”

River barely even flinched, even though his heart leapt in panic. So many times Dante had bent his will, made him so pliable that he was barely a person at all. Not anymore. Not anyone else. And he could see the cracks in Wick’s facade. Something had broken, given. He’d made a dent. And with that knowledge, River was not ready to give up. Not when he finally had something to fight for.

“You might think y-you’re special, Wick,” River said through a hiss, staring into her eyes as they flared, “B-but I’ve been living in hell l-long before you came around… only difference is… t-this time.. I’m n-not r-ready to break.”

Smoothing out his collar, Wick's expression shifted. A sudden indifference. Not cold. Not angry. Blank. Empty. Hollow. Stepping back, she brushed the front of her own uniform, “Then you'd better say your goodbyes. Because if you aren't going to heed my warnings, apparently, you require a demonstration.”

The sudden shift in Wick’s eyes sent a chill down River’s spine, but he had come too far to crumble in front of her again. “If you t-touch them… I-I’ll bury you right next to wherever the hell C-Cameron is.”

“There is no 'if’. You had one part in this and you've failed, Puddle.” Smiling faintly, the edges of her gaze still void of emotions, she shook her head, “You gonna bury me you'd better do it fast, because I promise you… I won't hesitate to destroy every single one of them. You struck a match, little pup. Watch me burn.”

River growled, but said nothing, even as his fingernails dug into the palms of his clenched fists. “Veta a la mierda, Wick. Fuck you.”

“You'll regret these actions… I promise.” Smiling a crooked smile, she back up from him, “Now if you'll excuse me… I've got to speak to Fritz. We have so much to discuss.” As she turned, her finger rose and pointed towards his table, dancing in the air over those present, “Eenie, meenie… miney mo…”

Anger rolled off of River in waves, fumes billowing out of him. It felt like he had just had a brush with a touch of control, something he had never had in his entire life. But as Wick turned around, her hungry eyes scowering over the table, threatening to take everything from him, his heart sunk.

“W-Wick… s..stop.” River stuttered, paling. “Stop, j-just… st…” He couldn’t be responsible for their hurt when he’d already been responsible for so much. “Wh...what… name?”

So close. So damn close. But he wasn't ready… not yet. Soon. But not yet.

Without looking at him, lip twitching up, her hand dropped to her side, “Good boy. Rest up tonight, Puddles. Tomorrow's fight is sure to be eventful.” Turning on her heels, she crossed the room to where Fritz sat, sinking down beside him with a pleased expression. After a moment, slowly, deliberately, she leaned close to the red haired man and whispered something into his ear.

River’s posture crumbled. He stayed frozen in position, even as she sauntered away, trembling. There was no way out of this. No matter how courageous he felt… she would always crush him under her thumb like a bug. That little whisper in Fritz’s ear… was she taunting him… or making his worst nightmares come true?

Every step back to the table felt like he was sinking deeper into some abyss. Quicksand. Shaking head to toe, River sunk beside Chloe once more, staring blankly into space. No way out. Never any way out.
 
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Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)
DF: Freezer Burn | Location: Cafeteria/Kitchen | Interactions: Jumbo & Guard


The blisters upon his face had migrated. All in one direction. Towards a single point in the upper right of his cheek, near the sensitive edge of his ear. Most days, during the full length of those days, they burned and throbbed. Never in sync, always in chaotic and mocking dissonance. The pain scared Jumbo.

It terrified him.

He’d never experience such a sensation before. The seering of flesh against hot metal, the grill peeling away crispy trenches of his face and leaving behind exposed, cauterized tissue… Never. He’d never known such a feeling. Why did he have to know it? The cannibal didn’t know a lot of things--he barely knew how to speak right. Couldn’t write, nothing comprehensible. Couldn’t read good enough to avoid Fritz’s wrath… But he could draw. Sort of. Well, not to the point of where others could tell what he’s going for.

Sometimes that made him angry. No, sad? Both? A feeling that he didn’t know the name to and would probably never understand it to be frustration. Helplessness. Lost. Swimming in a ever-moving mosaic pool of sensory overload--colors, feelings, noises, loud and horrific noises that coated his innards with ice, anger, anger from his master, screams from the people around him, confusion, confusion, confusion, hunger, confusion, fear, confusion, confusion, confusion--

“Out! Fucking ape!”

Light pierced the darkness and the first thing Jumbo saw was his breath condensing before him, a sluggish glob of white. Then, an inky black silhouette framed by the illuminance spilling in behind them. Next, its hand shot out and viciously yanked him forward by the collar. Jumbo whimpered, stumbling out of the freezer before falling to his knees before the guard. His grip upon the cannibal’s jumper remained and the angle wrapped his neck in coiling fabric, on the verge of cutting off his air supply.

“Up!” the guard snarled. He gave another pull, this time cutting off the prisoner’s oxygen completely, and all he received was a choked sob. Frigid tears coated a freckled face, some flaking and hardened against Jumbo’s blisters. The rotund prisoner shook his head, nails digging into his collar, prying, trying with every bit of his dwindling will to loosen the pressure.

An annoyed scoff. The guard’s boot swiftly slammed into Jumbo’s gut, lips twisting into a lop-sided grin as a groan hit his ears, before forcing him onto his feet. Dragging. Dragging and dragging and pulling and demanding and ordering and obeying--Jumbo wondered if that kind of stuff ended. Did things end? He knew some things did. Sort of. He couldn’t remember. Couldn’t think straight. So he continued to exist in that limbo loop and struggled to follow, before finding himself shoved into a seat. Metal chair. And it wasn’t a neat toss, let alone a neat landing.

He smacked into it with a sharp clang before tumbling, the cheap folded item biting into his body as it landed atop of him. He groaned, failing to move an inch at first, before clumsily setting the chair upright. He plopped into his, peering up at the guard through thick and chilled eyelashes.

And then his personal space was invaded, suddenly, harshly, and the cold meats of the guard’s breath wafted into his nostrils. A demented glee twisted his features. “Five minutes, ass eater,” he cackled before slapping a firm hand to Jumbo’s shoulder, making the cannibal flinch, “Five… Minutes.”

Jumbo didn’t know how much five was. But it was more…? Higher? Higher than the third time he was told this. Five minutes. Five minutes of sitting and waiting and thawing.

Before he was ripped from his seat and tossed back into the freezer.

Jumbo hated discipline.



Tags: KatSea KatSea , CloudyBlueDay CloudyBlueDay , Elle Joyner Elle Joyner
 
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Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)
Flashback: Thank You For Everything | Location: Earth

His spine smacked into cold, hard tile. Wind rushed from his lungs, his diaphragm and stomach heaving with every ragged cough. Iron stained the back of his tongue and streamed past his lips, the curvature of his bruising jaw--

“You think you can take him away from me? Huh?”

A swift kick to the ribs. There was the echo, the agonizing vibration of a something snapping. It rippled through the cavities of his chest.

“My prize? My moneymaker?!”

Another kick, this one harder than the last and forcing him onto his side. A pained gurgle bubbled up his throat, threatening to drown him in his own blood. His eyes burned. The world could burn, for all he cared. It didn’t deserve to live. Didn’t deserve a single damn thing after all it had done to…

Slowly, he tried to crawl away. Further and further into the kitchen, his eyes landing sluggishly on the counter where a knife rested.

“Where the fuck you think you’re going…” An arm scooped under him, shoving broken ribs against vulnerable organs, and he bit back a whimper. The other first curled into his dark hair, dragging him back. Hopeless. Weak. Why did he have to be so fucking weak? He just wanted to be stronger. Just strong enough to save him from all of this.

He was failing him.

“Mommy and daddy’s money couldn’t protect your nosey ass forever…” His breath, hot and putrid, rolled into his ear. No--invaded. Slithered. Until a violent shiver raced down his spine and back up again. Fingers dug even deeper into his aching torso, nails scraping away at bloodied clothes. “I’m his only master. I’m all that he knows. And I’m not letting you fuck up all of my hard work--

Crack!


A blood curdling scream.

The man released him, crumbling to the floor and hands trembling violently around the exposed, jagged stub of his femur. “You… y-you son of a bitch!” he howled, seething in absolute rage and pain as he glared at the figure looming over him. It lowered, slowly, with the motions of someone teetering on the precarious edge of sanity. Or was it freedom? Both. It had to be both.

And both hands curled around the man’s throat.

His voice was fragile and softer than the beating of a butterfly’s wing, yet it somehow boomed over the gasps and strangled garbling. And yet, even as he spoke, his gaze landed on the boy, who stood frozen in shock.

Snowman smiled at Gram. “I can do it… I… I refuse to make you a killer.”

Gram shook his head. “Don’t…” His hands curled into trembling fists. “Don’t you fucking… dare do it…”

Snowman chuckled again, but it could’ve been sob. His grip increased tenfold, all eyes on Gram, not a single glance spared at the writhing body underneath him. “Thank you for everything that you’ve done for me…” A tear rolled down his pale cheek. “Now I get to repay you.”

Gram rushed forward. “Don’t!”

Snap!

...



Tags: CloudyBlueDay CloudyBlueDay , Elle Joyner Elle Joyner , KatSea KatSea
 

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)
Flashback: Four Stomachs | Location: Earth, Russia

“Kroshka…” An extensive sigh escaped, long and wrought with a playful breed of exasperation. He reached over the table, not at all bothered by the clanging of expensive silverware against fine china, and wiped away crumbs from the corner his little brother’s lips. “Manners, yes? You’re aware of them.”

“Nooo!” The boy flailed, his rosey cheeks puffed up with an exaggerated pout. However, his efforts were useless in the face of Adrian’s fretting, so he quickly gave up, arms flopping like stubby noodles. A low string of Russian syllables flowed from him, disgruntled and nonsensical. “Adriaaaaan, I can do it myself!”

“I fail to see that,” Adrian chuckled while settling back into his seat.

The royal dining hall was empty, devoid of the overwhelmingly pompous aura of the Fitzgerald family. Of course, it was to be expected. This vicinity of the castle was usually vacant outside of scheduled meals; however, Adrian took advantage of their strict ways. Very often, at that. It proved beneficial for him to practice in the kitchen without any eyes judging his every move and even more so to have the painfully honest tastebuds of his youngest brother posing as a judge for every dish he made.

“Well?” Adrian urged, a hint of amusement coloring his freckled visage. Nicolas had yet to say anything, although he had already ripped his way through half of the roast duck. It was achingly hilarious, to be honest. The comically narrowed eyes, the stubbornly pinched lips, the baseless humming under his breath--he was adhering to the role so intensely, that he’d forgotten to fulfill his job in the first place.

“Iiiiit’s…” Nicolas gave pause, trying to pile on the suspense. Then, he beamed. “Good!”

Adrian tried to feign pleasant surprise, but his acting skills weren’t of top priority. Besides, it was never terribly hard to convince Nicolas otherwise. The elder brother heaved a gasp of delight, hands clasping together once with a resounding clap. “Ah! Yes! Wonderful! I must admit, Kroshka,” he wagged a finger in the boy’s direction, “You had me dangling by the edge of my seat, really! Don’t do that to my weak heart.”

In response, Nicolas’s smile twisted into a goofy snarl, bits of duck and sauce splattering his teeth. It was a disgusting sight but the glee radiating from him helped to soften the blow. If only a little. “Adri, can I get more?” he asked.

Adrian scoffed in disbelief. “You have not even finished your first plate.”

“I willlllll!”

“I have my doubts.”

“Then don’t!” Nicolas mustered as much fortitude as he could in an attempt to crank out a miserable groan, but he, similar to his brother, was also a terrible actor. The last of his exclamation shook with a giggle, his button nose scrunching up. “I’ve got, I’ve got…! Um… Two stomachs! So I can do it.”

Adrian cocked his head, clearly unimpressed. “Oh? So you’re a cow now?”

“Yes!”

A grin pulled at Adrian’s lips. “Incorrect. Cows have four stomachs, not two.”

“Cheater!” Nicolas heaved a groan of annoyance, his head meeting the table with an audible thud.

A beat of silence.

“...I still want seconds.”

“Yes, yes,” Adrian chuckled. He stood, looping around the table to ruffle his brother’s hair before waltzing towards the kitchen, “I’ll look into making some more, Kroshka.”

Nicolas’s cheer echoed throughout the chamber.

}:{

“Wha… W-what did you do…?”

Silence. Deadly. Unmoving. Suffocating. Nothing but the shuddering sobs of his father filled the bedroom. It still smelled of Nicolas. Still reeked of his musk after spending hours playing with the steeds and wallowing the grass of grandfather’s golf course.

Adrian pounced, seizing his father by the collar and barreling forward. His back smashed into the dresser, glass shattering against his back, piercing the fine cloth of his suit.

“What did you fucking do?!”

“What I had to!” His father’s wail was one of anguish, of a seething regret that he had no choice but to accept with open, crippled arms. Spittle flowed down his chin, mixing with mucus and tears. He clamped around Adrian’s fists with his own boney, trembling fingers. Liver spots. So many liver spots. He’d seen so many years. “You… are the heir. The rightful heir.” His bloodshot eyes glistened. “A-and I had to do… what was right.”

“You’re… fucking filth!” Adrian reeled his fist back, knuckles trembling and white, taut with a fury and pain unmatched. However, trampling feet stopped him in his tracks and a female figure burst into the bedroom. Mother.

“What’s going on in here? I…” Then she froze. And she paled, far paler than any of the Fitzgerald’s have ever been in their history of existence. “O-oh gods… Oh gods…” Her gaze fell upon the blood seeping through her husband’s clothes, then to the shattered glass, and finally to Adrian’s fists.

Her legs threatened to give out then and there.

“My son, w-what’re you…? And on this day!” Her voice cracked and crumbled with agony, hands slapping over her pounding heart. “Let your father go! You! Y-you! You’re disgracing Nicolas’s name! T-take your petty fights elsewhere! Now!”

“Petty?” Adrian released his father, blazing eyes now trained on the woman. He advanced slowly, nearly staggering from the waves of rage bubbling through his veins. The audacity… The damnable audacity! He loomed over her, a dark rage twisting his features until he resembled the red-haired Devil himself. “There’s nothing petty about the vile stench on this family’s name. The only redeeming quality about us…”

He glanced over his shoulder, setting his father aflame with a glare embodying the utter essence of hatred. “And you erased it.”

Wham!

He slammed the door frame next to his mother, drinking in her yelp and violent flinch. Soaking up the nervous sweat gathering above her brow. Utterly gorging himself upon the fear filling his little brother’s bedroom.

His voice escaped like the hiss of a snake. “You want your heir? I’ll give you the worst one you’ve ever laid your eyes on.” His arm lowered, pure disgust painting him from head to toe. “Maybe then you’ll understand remorse…”

Adrian paused. Basked in the moment of ground-shaking silence. Basked in the memories that clawed at the cusp of skull with every skimming of the room. Exhaling shakily, he rushed out of the room, leaving his parents to marinate in their own pool of bullshit.

It was time to raise some hell.



Note: Kroshka = Breadcrumb

Tags: Elle Joyner Elle Joyner , CloudyBlueDay CloudyBlueDay , KatSea KatSea
 

KatSea

Edgepeasant
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
Generally online in the afternoon eastern time
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
More passive but am decently comfortable with leading.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, mystery, magical, modern,
Genre You DON'T Like
Dystopian, Survival stories,
An Immaculate Conception

"Alright alright...I gotta do something that's gonna knock all of you bitches out of here..." A peach, freshly manicured nail clanked against the thick skull of the woman across from Chloe. God. It was four in the morning. Chloe was exhausted, her stomach was throbbing and bloated, despite having been well concealed by the lace blouse she had borrowed from her own mother. But, there was a sense of relief in the basement of good old Rosemary Picard, having taken the gaunt and stammering Chloe under her wing as an act of charity (or humiliation, it really wasn't clear). In all, Chloe did feel safe under the roof where her own personal Creeper did not reside. She recalled naming him after the Scooby Doo villain who used to plague her screen, the sluggish, devilish villain a representation of something she saw everyday. She didn't understand why those hippie teenagers feared him so much. Even with the mask. He was just an overall dick messing with a bunch of high teenagers (and in a way, she applauded him for it. It sounded like a fun afternoon).

"Mmm, well, most of us have four fingers up, Rose~ Shouldn't be too hard." Another squeal emitted from beside Chloe, a metal clad young teen with a grin as wide as the divide between the Earth and the moon. However, Chloe did find the taller, awkward teenager endearing. You and I have one finger up Jenna. I think its gonna be a battle royal between us. Never have I ever gone without food for a couple of days? Oh! Maybe for you I should do never have I ever cheated on alll, and I do mean all, of your bio tests. Its okay. Human anatomy is a gross subject anyway, babe.

"Hmm, well, lets see, we've all seen a boy naked...A lot of us have gotten wasted. I feel like we are missing a very important question. Ah yes, I can't believe I am saying this, and it's only because I'm still waiting for Henry S to get over his own shit and ask me out...Never have I ever lost my virginity."

Oh fucking hell...Oh! Sorry Sorry!! I didn't mean to think that word! Oh God I hope my little guy didn't hear that...Sorry sweetie, sorry...

"Er..." Words escaped Chloe before she even had a chance to silence herself, her demeanor a cream white mask. Horror tried to seep into her eyes, but a simple smile merely pulled at her lips instead. "W-w-w-well...e-e-er. E-everyone I think h-has..." Swallowing as words lingered in her throat, her cheeks soon erupted into flames, pink inflicting the entirety of her neck. "D-d-different, er...er...I-interpretations?"

"Oh?" Rosemary's once cheery, blissfully ignorant visage soon twisted with confusion. "Well, er, what do you mean? Virginity is when you have sex for the first time, isn't it?"

"Well, maybe Clo has a point! Some people see virginity as different things. Traditionally it used to be like, I guess like, when the guy does his thing? At least that's what I used to hear all the time. I dunno, actually. Now there are all forms of sex, or at least I've rea-...heard. So I've heard."

Sweet baby Jenna reads smut? Oh God, why does anyone think this sort of thing is pleasurable or pretty? The only beauty of it is with you, little dude. Or dudette. Didn't mean to assume your gender, my love.

"Fair enough, I guess, why do you ask Clo?" Mischief gathering at her smudged red lips, Rosemary quirked a brow in Clo's direction. Despite having been splayed comfortably against the couch, Chloe's entire body tensed up.

"I-I d-don't k-know...G-g-guess some g-g-girls might h-have d-d-different e-experiences."

"Hell, she ain't wrong." Another girl, a quiet blonde peeped up from across the way, green eyes skimming past both Jenna and Rosemary. "Well, I suppose, to clear this sort of thing up, my interpretation of losing one's virginity is the act of any sort of sex that involves each party's consent. Doesn't matter the gender of the participants. Is that what you were gettin at Clo? Think some of us may have had partners of the same sex?"

Yes. Yes. That's exactly what I was thinkin. What? You don't expect me of all people to be a secret lesbian lover? No, it has to be other people at the circle. Makes sense, at the very least. I at least think I'd do better than some men...

"Y-yes. S-s-sorry. I-I was n-never r-really e-e-educated...o-on t-this, I-I mean." Bullshit. Unless you mean consent and actual pleasure...Oh sugar biscuits I swore again! and I was thinking about lesbian sex with my baby here with me! Oh God, I'm gonna need a filter with this little guy! Im sorry sweetie...Mama gonna get better at this. promise.

Her hand hovered to her stomach.

"Alright alright, since Clo so politely asked..." Rosemary cooed "Never have I ever participated in an act as mentioned above."

Four out of seven girl's raised a finger. Chloe's remained safely clutched into a fist, a hesitant smile on her face.

How does one have a miracle without losing their virginity? I...I don't know. I'm still a virgin, yet a mama. I wish...I wish I could still have you without the prior...But. I cannot complain. It's weird...I think I'm one of the only virgin mamas out there. Like Mary...Except, not quite. But for right now, I'm considering this an immaculate conception. Oh, little guy, I promise to go to sleep for you soon...and yeah. I can tell you are hungry for an omelet. At least I think, at least food wise, you and I are gonna get along just fine.
 
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Reactions: Mobley Eats

CloudyBlueDay

consistently inconsistent
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
I check as often as I can.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Both.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
Genre You DON'T Like
I am generally not a huge fan of RPing Fandom, but it can depend.
Two's A Pair, Three's A Family... Kinda
with Mobley Eats Mobley Eats and Elle Joyner Elle Joyner

Switch couldn’t tell if she was on the verge of vomiting because of her piss-poor excuse for a brain or because of the incredulous smile plastered across Pan’s face. Either way, she felt sick. And she wasn’t used to this anxiety--at all. Especially not around her cellmate.

But the guilt lingered. Hell did it linger and she almost toyed with the idea of spilling everything just to feel normal again--

But then her worries were assuaged. The sweat on the back of her neck cooled. And, above all else, she took back everything she was thinking a mere moment ago. Screw that; Switch would rather chew off her own damn foot than to bring anymore bullshit into Pan’s life.

A hand shot out to catch the chair, her lazy grin making a grand comeback, before sinking down with a plop. “Hell yeah I’m one of the cool kids… I’ve got dibs on the pothead hippy,” she chuckled, eyes briefly straying over to Twitch before forcing them back onto Pan.

There was a lot rattling around in Abe’s head right now. The deal they’d settled with Gram, the shit with Switch, the next round of the fights… There was so much potential for disaster, too many corners he couldn’t see past. One hand running through his hair and the other drumming against the table, Abe blinked back to reality once Switch reached their table.

He shot her a nervous smile, sitting up a little straighter to keep both the women in his view, exhaling slightly as Pan welcomed Switch without any reservations. Abe rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a small laugh. “Why of all things would you want to be the pothead hippy?” Are these two gonna talk to each other or am I just going to have to pretend I don’t know shit for the rest of my life. How the hell were they going to tell Switch about the plan? Was it even safe to tell Switch about the plan right, here in the open?

“...Maybe pothead hippy isn’t so bad.” Abe muttered gruffly after a moment of introspection.

"So…" Pan started, looking down at her tray of slop, "In the effort of avoiding the most awkward dinner, ever… Whatever you've got goin' on, don't care. Don't need to know. You're family, Switch, and family doesn't nag for answers you don't rightly wanna give. So long as you know I've got your back…"

Glancing up, her eyes shifted between Switch and Abe, "I didn't want half the ship knowing my name… But thanks to the Demon Queen, they do. Secrets are secrets for a reason. You're entitled to yours."

Smiling dryly, she shrugged, "Now… with that out of the way… We uh… had a chat today, with our favorite little serial killer psychopath. Turns out we have a common enemy." Tapping her chin, her smile grew, "Course… we can't just chat about it out in the open. No clue who might be listening in on every little thing we do."

“See?” Switch gestured plainly to Abe, the onset of a lazy smile tugging at her lips, though it didn’t have long to live… Oh. Fuck. Wow--screw you too, brain. I mean really? My thoughts seriously had to go there? If Switch wasn’t currently conversing with her friends, she would’ve rolled her eyes. “Twitch here gets it. Hippy potheads got it good.”

However, whatever nonchalance she had fought tooth and nail to gather shattered the moment Pan spoke and she found herself flailing for words. Her mind was shooting blanks. Thus, all the prisoner could do was pick at her fingernails under the table while nodding, shooting her cellmate a grateful look. “Thanks, Pan… Seriously.”

Annnnnnd now she was confused again. For fuck’s sake.

A pause. Then, Switch sat forward, taking a moment to clean out her ear. “Uh… I’m sorry, you spoke with head honcho psycho and didn’t come out of it with an instilled fear of murderous clowns? How?” she asked incredulously, “And what did you even talk about? And why… Just… I could really use some hippy weed right now.”

Abe exhaled slightly. At least Pandora wasn’t gonna press for the secret to come out, but Abe couldn’t understand why Switch wouldn’t just spit it out already. Now it was stuck like a lump in his throat.

“He made us an offer we couldn’t refuse.” Abe said quietly, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. The hand placed comfortingly at the back of his neck twitched and tremored. There was so much that could go wrong. Was he really supposed to believe that Romana would just… stop paying attention to those at the top of the leaderboard? Hell, it was still hurting his brain to think about the fact that they were a goddamn reality TV show.

“I… don’t think we should talk about it here.” He huffed, finally peeling his gaze away from the surrounding area and back to the two women. “I’m a little worried Archer will kill us before we even make it happen.”

"That dick? Only thing he's gonna kill up here is a hell of a lot of time. He looks at any of you funny and he's gonna be seeing what it's like to talk out of his ass, less figuratively. I'm not worried about Archie. But Twitchy's right… not the place to chat about our benevolent dictator." Frowning, Pan leaned back, arms behind her head, "When's the last time you thought about home, Switch?"

“An… offer…?” Switch echoed unsurely, gaze switching back and forth (pun intended) between them and analyzing them for any hint of doubt, any sign of a joke peeking over the horizon. However, she failed to spot any and with that realization came a heavy weight crashing over her shoulders. The actual fuck is going on here? “Well, I can at least agree that you’ve got nothing to worry about with Archer. He’s all mind games, to be honest, and that shit’s never bothered me in the past.” She almost snorted at the bittersweet irony, but chose to bite it back.

At Pan’s question, Switch stiffened, pure disbelief running up the shoots of her veins like magma. Her nose scrunched up with a subtle grimace. “Never… Why’re you asking?”

Even though the question wasn’t directed at him, Abe’s stomach turned uncomfortably at the mention of home. It was a horrifying thought. No, if he was getting off this damned ship he wasn’t going home, because it didn’t exist. Some other side of the planet sounded nice.

“Think of home as… Earth.” Abe offered, sitting up slightly. He knew Switch’s family life was less than desirable. “Think about finally leaving this hell hole.” Don’t think about how bad it’ll be if this plan goes down the bloody toilet.

“Just… you know… hypothetical, and all. If you could get off this damn hell-ship and go home. What would you do? Guess I’ve been thinking a lot about it, since our chat with ol’ Gram Reaper.” At that comment, Pandora looked up, her eyes focused on Switch’s with a sudden intensity - it was as close as she dared, at the moment, to get to the point.

“O… kayyyy?” Switch said cautiously. “I’ve honestly been thinking--no, dreaming of that since I stepped foot on this hunk of space metal. So… what about it--” But then she locked eyes with Pan, the sudden intensity diving so deeply into her soul that her fingers curled into fists on the table. They… Were they being fucking serious? And with the top serial killer of Hagur? She squirmed a bit in her seat, feeling almost helpless from the onslaught of absurdity, of a terrifying fantasy teasing the cusp of reality. “I… So… Hypothetically,” she started slowly, “If that were the case… A private place to talk would be good.”

“Chava.”

If it was any new voice, Switch would’ve jumped out of her skin while scrambling to shove her soul back into her body; however, that wasn’t the case with this one. It was male and even more so than that, a familiar and heavily accented one. Bungee plopped down next to her, not at all awaiting permission from Pan or Abe. “I never had the chance of word trading with you in the infirmary,” he said lowly.

“Oh… Bung, don’t worry about that,” Switch said, her form relaxing instantly and a teasing grin pulling at her lips. She nudged the man. “Or me. I’m all good, yeah?” Bungee grumbled in clear disagreement, but didn’t have a real response to her stubbornness. “Ah, the grumbles of wove. Music to my ears,” she chuckled before focusing on Pan and Abe again, “Uh… Shit, wait. This is actually a bad time, isn’t it?”

Abe grinded his teeth together. The tension was palpable, especially with all of Pan’s intense stares towards Switch. He sunk into his seat slightly, wishing he had a better hand to play in this mess of a situation. He was about to suggest they move when Bungee sat down.

Abraham very audibly groaned, dragging a hand down from his hair over his eyes. “Yeah, it’s a bad time. Bungee… my man… would you just… you know.” Abe gestured to the direction he’d come from with a head tilt, which didn’t really mean much because his head was twitching anyway.

"Yeah…" Pan agreed, with a grimace, "Not the best timing…" but she wasn't thinking solely about their conversation. She had caught the tail end of the last fight, and she was pretty sure sitting cozy with an enemy of the Red Haired Devil and his psychopath girlfriend wasn't a great position… "Bold of you, walkin' around after that fight."

Bungee cut a glare in Abe’s direction, toying with the idea of shooting back a scathing remark; he never really had patience for any prisoner aside from the woman sitting next to him but, as always, he stuck true to his methods and ignored the reactions altogether. Grumbling, he gave Switch a quick look up and down, scanning her with a critical eye. “You are the still in stock?” he asked lowly.

Switch shrugged, humming casually as if she was mulling over the question. “Sure.” However, she cringed somewhat at her cellmate and friend’s response to Bungee’s arrival. She couldn’t really blame them, though. Bungee wasn’t exactly the likable type. “Uh… Shit, Bunge, hate to say this but they’re kinda right. Now’s not a good time.”

Bungee’s eyes narrowed. He remained stubbornly where he was. “Sure is not the good enough of an answer,” he said, “And I walk wherever the fuck I of please.”

“Ah, somebody’s extra grumpy today.”

“Not in the mood of jokes, Chava,” he growled. “You need to do the restock, don’t you? Do not the lie to me.” In response, Switch focused on her food, his words going through one ear and out the other, though she gave his knee a comforting pat under the table.

Abe looked between the two, aggravation building. His twitches were growing a little more rapid, more violent, and the thumbnail he had jammed between his teeth was having a hard time staying there. All this small talk, Switch’s dismissive jokes. He knew what restocking meant. He knew, and he could tell by the way Switch was avoiding Bungee that it was damn necessary too.

Fuck, fuck it all. He shot Switch a look before turning to Pan, teeth grinding. “This is fucked, Pan. It’s fucked. There’s no way it’s gonna go right. No way in hell.” As much as he hated to admit it… it would be especially true if they involved Switch.

"Hey. Keep it together, Twitch." Shifting, the was an uncharacteristic softness to Pandora's expression, as she looked to Abe, shaking her head, "Little optimism, sugar. We can't afford to think that way." Fingers curling around his, she looked over to Bungee and the softness was gone, "She'll take care of herself, tall, dark and irritating. We'll make sure of it. Now quit pushin' her around before you end up in the infirmary twice in one day. We're all a little on edge and I don't think any of us can be held accountable should we have an unfortunate reaction to stress. Besides… Pretty sure old Fritzy's lookin' your way."

Bungee shot Abe a suspicious glance, his obvious paranoia not quite settling well in his stomach. Twitch was known around Hagur for his occasionally explosive behavior, but the sheer amount of frantic agitation oozing from his words was a tad unexpected. Unusual.

Regardless, the glare returned upon hearing Pan’s not-so-subtle threat. “She clearly the hasn’t been taking care of herself,” he hissed while pinning Switch with a glare, who avoided the look at all costs. The casualness behind the action just annoyed him further. His nose scrunched up, looking at Pan as if she grew a second head. “You actually the think I give fucks about that? This!” He placed a hand upon Switch’s shoulder. “This idiot is the all that matters! Especially if the idiot has to re. Stock.”

“Bunge, come on… You’re gonna pop a blood vessel,” Switch muttered, the playful tone persisting, yet weakening as his worry continued to wash over her. Fuck… She’d forgotten just that quickly that he, along with all of Hagur, had seen her seizure during round one.

“No,” Bungee growled while leaning forward, forehead meeting the right of her skull while palming the other side. Switch didn’t flinch from the gesture; she merely let it happen. It usually helped to calm his nerves anyhow. “You the fucking come on.”

“...That was like the equivalent of I know you are but what am I,” Switch said.

Bungee grimaced, but did nothing more than scoff in response.

“Pan.” Abe growled, eyes widening as he registered the calm threat she’d thrown Bungee’s way. A little optimism. A little optimism, right? A little optimism and then they’d all fucking die, but god did he wanted to feel the sun again, he wanted to kick up some grass. But not like this. Abe knew It wouldn’t happen like this.

Scooting forward in his seat, trying to block Pan from Bungee, Abe looked the other man in the eye. “Listen.” He said firmly. “You saw me. In the round. You saw me, right? You saw her but you saw me. I’ll make sure she restocks. Just give us ten. Damn. Minutes.” So I can tell them how bad of an idea this is.

"Switch ain't gonna keel over on my watch, Bungee." Pan sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose, "So maybe quit acting like you're the only person who gives a damn. We need a minute. Pretend you've got some damn courtesy in you and beat it…"

Bungee and Switch visibly twitched at the “keel over” comment, but the latter recovered rather quickly, her indifferent mask set back in place like a professional. Whatever eye contact the agitated had established with Abe was lost, his thoughts once again clouded over with annoyance, vaguely wondering why Chava was close to this bitch in the first place. Especially now that she was on sight…

He shook off the thought and merely shot Pan a sneer. “You ask the courtesy in prison?” A low scoff. “Chava, why you the waste your time with this bitch--”

“Ooookay,” Switch interrupted, a hint of nervousness in her tone as she placed a hand upon Bungee’s shoulder. She loved this idiot like family and because he was family, she’d rather not have him break any bones from talking too much. Giving a gentle squeeze, she whispered to him, “Listen, just… cool it, alright? Yes. I… I gotta restock, alright? Happy?”

Bungree frowned. “Not in the slightest…” His gaze fell on Abe and Pan once more. There seemed to be a slew of venomous words on his tongue, but he just barely held back. For Chava’s sake.

Abe cringed at Pan’s vicious bite back, still leaning forward protectively in an attempt to act as a barrier. “Pan.” He hissed under his breath. Damnit. This was supposed to be smooth.. they didn’t need to make enemies, especially out of Switch’s friends, and he’d almost had the situation under control. Now, Abe could feel the anger radiating from Bungee, and if Pan wanted to act like a loose cannon..

“We’ll revisit this later.” Abe muttered, giving Switch an apologetic look before standing up, abandoning his uneaten food. He lightly wrapped a hand around Pan’s arm and nudged her to come along with him.

"When, Abe? We don't exactly have a plethora of time to discuss things." Irritation rippled through her words, but Pandora made no efforts to shake off, nor did she move to stand, "Maybe instead of discussing things around her like she's a damn child we can just ask Switch what she wants to do? Cause hell if I let anyone make my decisions for me."

“Uh…” Switch shifted uncomfortably, her brain scrambling for the right thing to say; anyway to diffuse the tension piling more and more by the second. “Err, listen, we all just need to… cool down for a sec and woosaw, alright?” She didn’t know how to feel--about anything. Again, she loved Bungee, but at the same time, no one could really understand nor put up with his attitude like she could. She appreciated his presence, she always would, but his negative energy seemed to be stirring up aggravation in the others. Biting back an apologetic sigh, she copied Bungee’s earlier action of resting her forehead against this temple and muttered, “I hear you loud and clear, alright? We’ll talk more tomorrow. Promise.”

Bungee stiffened a moment, his jaw proving to clench even tighter. His glare switched among the trio critically, before he finally heaved a huff of annoyance and disgust. He hated Hagur and nearly every prisoner on this space metal from Hell. “Fine,” he growled. Shooting Switch one last warning look, he stood with his tray in hand, and pinned Abe down with a meaningful glower. “I did the see you… Keep it up and you the might not piss me off so much.”

Without sparing the squabbling pair another glance, he left. Well, stomped off.

“Welp…” Switch cleared her throat awkwardly. “That happened.”

Abe ground his teeth together, taking his hand off of Pandora as he sat back down, watching Bungee leave. He ran a twitching hand through his hair, letting his gaze fall back on the gruel in front of him. “Didn’t mean for it to go like that, Switch.” His gaze settled on Pan, fingers drumming nervously on the table.

“We aren’t discussing anything around anyone.” He muttered. “That was unnecessary, Pan. Bungee was just…” Abe shook his head. Nevermind. “My problem here is… I don’t think we should go through with this plan at all. I know we agreed. But, listen, my whole gig down on earth was plans, and I know this one isn’t going to go right. I know it.” He made sure his voice was kept low, eyes roaming the mess hall, but tone still pouring with intention.

“Bungee was just, what? Trying to help? Taking care of Switch? Yeah. I get it. Apparently I’m the only person who doesn’t get to do that for some damn reason. You wanna keep me in the dark about everything that’s going on, that’s fine. I get it. Loyalty or whatever the hell it is. But you can’t expect me to understand any of the crap you people wanna discuss around me, if that’s the case. I said I wasn’t gonna ask, but don’t lecture me about the way I deal with Bungee when I’m the only one at the table who doesn’t get clued in, okay? You can’t blindfold someone and get pissed when they stumble, Abe.”

Frowning, Pan rose to her feet, fingers driving through her hair, “If you think we’ve got the luxury of saying no, you must’ve been in a different fight today. You think the next freak explosion or accident is gonna go so smoothly, Abe? You remember which one of us was holding that damn staff? “I can’t stay. You get it? I stay, I’m dead.” For a beat, just a second, there was a flicker of doubt in her gaze, of something Pandora never allowed anyone to see. There was fear. Uncertainty. And then just as quickly, it was gone, “So do what you want, but I have to at least try. Gotta do something.”

Switch merely grinned at Abe, letting the apologetic tone roll off her shoulders like water. “Nah, don’t worry about it, Twitch. Sometimes his rays of sunshine tend to give others sunburn.” She shrugged. “It’s no biggie… Uh… Oh boy.” And then tension piled up between him and Pan--and now Switch herself felt unease from the secondhand awkwardness. Jeez, gotta love a lover’s quarrel. Am I right?

She was wise enough not to voice that thought.

However, she reeled back a bit as Pan’s emotions started to climb more and more by the second. This entire conversation had been a damn rollercoaster ripped from the guts of Hell itself--on a Black Friday. What the hell were they going on about with this whole “staying or leaving” fiasco? Smoothing back her wild mane of waves and heaving a tired sigh, she did all she could to ignore the pounding in her skull and said, “Listen, guys. I… Sounds like we’re all stumbling in the dark right now. And it’s clearly making us a little crabby. I don’t wanna fuel any of the rage energy here and I got a gut feeling that I already am. So, uh…”

She grabbed her tray and stood.

“Just… Sorry for starting shit, I guess.” She flashed a strained grin. “I think I oughtta nap soon anyhow.”

Fuck. This was a mess. Abe opened his mouth and closed it over and over again, not sure what to say anymore. Pan was climbing hysteric mountain and Switch, classic Switch, took the high road and skedaddled. He took a while to respond, combing his hands through his hair as every part of his body spasmed with anxiety. Finally, he reached a hand out to Pan, pulling gently and tenderly at her arm, guiding her to sit back down.

“We’re gonna do something.” He said softly. “Switch’s business ain’t our business. It wasn’t even supposed to be mine, and I’m not gonna make it yours. This plan is bad for all of us. All. Of. Us.” One hand rested tightly on hers despite jittering every second, the other laying on his stomach. Pan had seen him undressed enough times to know the scar that lay beneath.

“I remember what happened today. And I’m not about to fucking forget it. But listen to me when I say, whatever shit Gram’s messed up in is a one way ticket to hell. We’ll find. Some. Way. Else. This is my shit, okay? I’m supposed to be good at this. I’m gonna figure it out and then we’ll figure it out.”

"You didn't start anything, Switch. Just… been a long day. Get some rest. We're cool." Sinking into the seat again, Pan frowned in thought, quiet for a moment, before looking up to meet Abe's gaze, "You're right. I know you are. But Abe, how the hell are we supposed to… We can't just tell him we changed our mind. This is Gram we're talkin' about. The guy who tried to turn you into mulch for touching his boytoy. Who, I don't think I need to remind you, ain't exactly Shirley Temple, himself…"

“Y… Yeah,” Switch muttered, grip tightening ever so slightly on her tray, “Good to know we’re cool. I’ll see you guys when I’m back in the land of the living.” Ah--that was a poorly framed joke, wasn’t it? Well, either way, she could take her words back. Not now. With a casual salute, she left the couple to handle their own… disagreements. It really wasn’t her place to butt in.

She just hoped they would reconcile soon.

Abe’s gaze followed Switch until she disappeared from his view, and then he bowed his head, brows scrunched together in deep thought. Every fiber of his being jumped with anxiety, lips pressed together, only to open when he had at least something worthwhile to say.

“We’ll give him someone else. Someone else who wants to jump head first into an idiot plan.” Abe muttered. “There’s always someone.”

“Plan’s in motion, Abe. Even if we could find somebody stupid enough to do it… someone Gram would accept, that we could throw into that blackhole… There’s not enough time. Not enough. You know as well as I do, it’s not something Gram is gonna sit on for long.” Turning to him, she frowned lightly, but her fingers curled around his, nonetheless, “I’m with you, whatever you wanna do… But you gotta be ready to have one hell of an enemy on our backs, if we decide to dick Gram over, right now. And if that happens… and we go into that second round of Fights? We might not get lucky, twice… You know?”

He squeezed her hand briefly, just for a moment, but for the rest of the time his fingers twitched and jumped in between hers. “I know,” Abe echoed, his voice now a broken whisper. “Fuck, Pan. Fuck.” There was no way out, was there? If what Gram was saying was true, if Romana was only turning a blind eye to high profilers, then… there was no one else to take their place. Not enough time to come up with something different.

“We’re just going to have to fucking… hope for the best.” It physically pained him to say that. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I won’t, I fucking swear it. Hopefully… he wants out as bad as we do… hopefully that gives us the luck we need.”

Smiling dryly, Pan shook her head, “If it’s any consolation, Twitch… I don’t think we had a choice the minute we won that fight. Pretty sure that’s what Gram was banking on, one way or another.” Meeting his gaze, she nodded, an uncharacteristic softness to her eye, “...Just like it was in the fight though, we’ve got each other’s backs. That’s all we need to worry about. I don’t care what the hell happens to Gram or Snowman or Archer. This goes south, we let them burn.”