shitty starter post is shitty

♔. }

       It wasn’t often when an EXACT REPLICANT of her spark-mate came across her data feed, in fact, this proved to be the first instance. All the more reason to send a brief PING before starting a video transmission — this was something she had to see for herself.

                               ❝ Spare some time for an old friend? ❞

@tertiaxdecima

“Seriously just shut up! Four people are dead yet here you are happy that the curfew was lifted.” To say she wasn’t in a good mood was an understatement. For the past few days, she had been in a bad mood. “Honestly, if it was your loved one who died, you wouldn’t be happy.” A sigh escaping her lips, she watched as the person walked away. “Fucking idiot.” She mumbled.

Diego made his way around the town, taking time to learn the ins and outs of the strange ‘dimension’ he was now in. He hated how quiet and calmed it seemed; nothing was ever this peaceful. One minute he was fighting with Hot Pants against Valentine, and the next, he was awake in this strange world. There was no other explanation to this other than a stand’s ability, particularly that of D4C.

He made an attempt at keeping himself sort of hidden, even resorting to taking off his jockey helmet. The mess of long, blond hair was dirty and could use a wash, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was staying one step ahead of the enemy.

As he made his rounds, the young man tried to keep tabs on people who looked suspicious, which was everyone really. Shit. He hated this. If he hadn’t already, he’d kill Valentine for trapping him here. Diego gritted his teeth and adjusted the large bandage that covered most of his right cheek before stopping into a shop. He took a seat at a table in the far corner, keeping his eye on the strange picture box. As strange as this place was, it had interesting technology.

Diego stayed at the cafe for a long while watching the television and keeping an eye, and nose, out for potential enemies. Eventually, someone sat down in a booth close by, leaving him to curl his lip. There were plenty of open seats, and they had to choose the one closest to him. Hopefully, they wouldn’t ask questions about his appearance.

arwen was disappointed in herself more than anything. she should have assumed that the only reason she would have such a powerfully prophetic dream would have been due to something linked to her ichor, but she had been foolish and taken it upon herself to stay home and lay enchantments over her residence to protect her family…ensure that they were safe. meanwhile, one of her brothers was marked for death in new york and she had made arrangements to come just a day too late. the daughter of hecate had spent the past two days discussing arrangements with chiron. she agreed to handle the boy’s shroud and worked to cleanse the cabin (as she always had) by burning sage as well as just keeping the place tidy while her sister was mourning, though she couldn’t bring herself to touch any one of nathan’s things.

finally, after what felt like an entire day of simply trying to get her home back to what felt like a decent energy, she decided that she should at least start to fall back into her wellness routine. sitting on the grass outside of her cabin with a couple sticks of incense burning beside her, she had only managed to get fifteen minutes into what was typically at least an hour of meditation before she could feel eyes on her. giving a small sigh, she broke all of her focus and glanced up to the camper that she assumed had been looking her way.  would you like to join me?

“Yes, hello, your eyes do not deceive you, the great Faye Bessin has returned from her exotic travels. Please, save your autograph requests until later, I know I look great, but I have an important statement for you. Don’t believe that bullshit about staying drunk to avoid hangovers. I was wasted for four days straight and I’ve felt like absolute shit for two days now.”

you would’ve thought i’d gotten used to the hustle n’ bustle of airports by now, but i still can’t fuckin’ stand ‘em. he huffed to himself as he shut the door to his car and walked towards the trunk to grab his suitcase.

The rooftop garden was not Clayton usual hangout, because he found it attracted the tower’s rather pretentious residents more than it did the carefree, enjoyable ones. Whenever the asset was up here, he tended to be met by some brooding, sad, sullen individual that simply wanted to stare off into the distance and be coy and annoying. Ugh. What brought him now was…well, he’d been rather pale as of late and he wanted to rectify that by lounging on the garden’s particularly comfortable love seat to tan. Just as well, it seemed someone saw fit to invade his personal sunbathing space. Clay, who’d been laying on his back head, resting atop his hands and his eyes closed, didn’t even glimpse at the intruder before sighing. “If this is about an appointment with Bellamy, there’s a line. If this about the party, no I’m not having another one. If this is about those secret tours, you’re supposed to bring food. Please stop blocking my sun and bother me later.”

There’s nothing quite as awkward as running into your ex while attempting to grab some quick groceries and having them act like you’re supposed to be happy to see them (after they totally screwed you over, I might add). And then, the real kicker of this whole conversation, they have the gall to ask if they can call you some time. Are you kidding me? Is it overkill to wish the ground would swallow them up?