i can see the green light

[melocoton]

THE OPEN RP POST1. post one of your characters and ask for one of mine in the subject line--or let me surprise you!
2. leave a prompt of some kind; a gif, a picture, song lyrics, a starter, whatever you want!
3. i'll respond with a post and let's play some stuff!
4. AU's, game canons, whatever you can think of!
5. post is open indefinitely!

Comments

for ragnar, hbh au

[angeliaforos]

Wet rag. Where are you at, dude?

christ go easy on me

[wentwest]

Wet rag is a new one. I'm out by the stables with Lagertha.

Re: christ go easy on me

[angeliaforos]

Yeah, that's what I figured. Got something cool to show you, I'll be over in a few.

For Mabel

[t_forthemonarch]

[This impressively costumed fellow was on his way to a top-secret destination when his enormous flying cocoon crash landed just outside of Gravity Falls.

He is now irritably wandering around the Mystery Shack gift shop in search of supplies... And to kill time while his henchmen fix the cocoon. He selects a strange looking device off a nearby shelf and turns it over a few times before spotting a young girl in a very interesting sweater. He turns to face her with a dramatic flourish, before addressing her.]

You there! Do you work here? You know what the Hell this thing is supposed to do?

uwu

[thealphatwin]

[ Whoaaaaa, this dude's costume is amazing! Mabel's practically sparkling, and she basically doesn't hear an actual word he's saying because oh my god ]

Are you a butterfly?!

[t_forthemonarch]

[Excellent question, little girl! One that calls for a dramatic speech.]

Not quite, but I was taken in by a rabble- nay, a swarm of butterflies just after the rest of the world had turned its back on me. Yes, they found me at my most vulnerable and enshrouded me in their metaphorical chrysalis where I grew stronger with each passing day, eventually emerging as THE MONARCH!... Who are you?

hbh au with ragnar because canon scares me? THIS WILL END BEAUTIFULLY MAN

[godwouldknow]

Please put a shirt on...

strolls over

[triskeles]

i love how your picture prompts are pretty compared to mine

[hypercompetent]

[ It'd been almost a year since Talia Hale had come off the side of the road and turned Stiles Stilinski's life on its head in the best way possible. She'd gone from being stuck as a wolf, tiny, terrified, lost and alone, to becoming part of their pack, ambling around the house on two feet instead of four and...still climbing onto Stiles' chest to sleep. To be honest, he'd not trade it for a single thing in the world--Stiles loves Talia, probably more than anything he can think of.

Except maybe her other unofficial dad, but that's still mostly a secret. (Or at least, he wants to pretend it's secret.) He's currently in the kitchen with said unofficial dad, arms full of an unholy combination of chocolate, sugar, and whipping cream that passes as frosting, staring down a cake for Talia. It's not her birthday--they don't know her birthday, yet--but it's a celebration. An anniversary.

A year since Talia came into their lives, a year since he started living here, another year they all survived and came together instead of being torn apart by tragedy or distrust.

When he pulls the spatula out of the frosting, he licks some off the end, smacks his lips, then quirks a grin at Derek. The loft's alight with the presence of people, but in the kitchen, it's muted, quiet. ]

One ultra-super-badass-perfect birthaversary cake coming up. You ready for this? Frosting is no easy task, Padawan.

Because I'm OCD facehands

[triskeles]

[ Every year that passes for the Hale Pack is something of an achievement for them, considering the things that they've gone through over the years since Derek returned to Beacon Hills. He's almost died at least once every couple of months, lost members of his pack for varying periods of time, and Stiles has taken far too many bullets for him to be comfortable with.

But things have gone... well, not relatively smoothly, but for the most part much better than anticipated ever since Talia stumbled into their lives. To say that the whole pack hadn't fallen in love with her would be a lie, but the fact that it's been Derek and Stiles taking care of her...

He's a little more over the moon than he anticipated, and it's only caused his feelings for Stiles to grow exponentially over the past year. Especially after the things that they've dealt with. (He will not discuss the levels of jealousy he felt during that one escapade.)

If they'd known the little girl's birthday, it would've just made everything all the better. But since they don't, the birthaversary will have to do. They'll just have to make it the best day of her small life, in exchange for what she's brought to their lives-- on four legs and two.

Reaching over, he swipes a bit of the frosting from the spatula, licking it off his finger calmly as he regards the rest of the ingredients that have been gathered. ]

We need the right ratio of cake-to-frosting coverage.

[ People who said baking wasn't a science were wrong. ]

they're so pretty ;A:

[hypercompetent]

[ "That one escapade" being when an alpha from another pack, on proper peace terms and everything, had come in and pretty much decided Stiles was the greatest thing since sliced bread. Which was. Really weird, because Stiles definitely wasn't, but he was also not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. So Derek had spent that whole fiasco brooding because someone was trying to steal his second, or something. It'd been a nightmare for 90% of the people involved, and while the presents were nice (Lydia'd complimented his suddenly upgraded fashion sense), it was less of a headache for Stiles especially when the alpha was gone.

They'd come out of that okay, if not a little weirdly. The night after, he'd not so secretly worn one of Derek's henleys around the house--seriously, anything to get that look off his face.

That was ages ago, now, or at least it felt like it. His eyes definitely follow Derek's finger as he does that (attractive bastard) and he sets the bowl down, reaching for a spatula himself and staring down the cake. Stiles and baking have never been friends, but Derek's definitely better at it, and they've made a masterpiece, all things considered. Talia'll probably smash her face in it, and it'll be awesome. ]

Dude, thank you. Too much and it's ruined, too little and it's weird. I'm counting on you and your baking, sciencey ways.

I WAS GONNA ADD MUSIC TOO BUT.

[triskeles]

[ On one hand, Stiles does deserve to have people thinking he's the greatest thing since sliced bread. Honestly, Derek is of the opinion that he's better than that-- there is a deep set bias here, based on years that have lead up to him being a little in love with his second-- but since he hasn't admitted to it... well, that leads to the other hand, where the fact another alpha came in and was trying to court Stiles, but he couldn't dispute it due to a myriad of reasons...

He was more than a little sour about it, but glad at least that Stiles had seemed to miss what they were aiming for. And was finally at ease when Stiles blatantly wore his clothes around, smelling like him and Talia both instead of another alpha.

Crooking an eyebrow as he pushes aside those thoughts, he regards Stiles absently. They're both covered in baking ingredients, flour and sugar everywhere, and it's...

It's a good look for Stiles. Domestic as hell, but they've been at it for a year with Talia and it tightens something in his chest a little as he slants a bit of a crooked smile at him. ]

I'm sure I can figure something out.

I spent way too long on this.

[triskeles]

you mean that much to me.

what if i come at you with the chef AU

[hypercompetent]

[ It's been a month or so since the fire at the restaurant, and Stiles still has nightmares about it. In one night, he'd lost everything he'd worked for, his mother's legacy, and learned that creatures of a supernatural persuasion did, in fact, exist.

And one of them was Derek Hale, his executive chef.

In the end, he'd lost a lot, but it was because of Derek, and said supernatural powers, that he didn't lose everything--Scott, pulled out of the apartment and bitten quick enough that he was able to survive. The experience was terrifying, still terrifying to this day, and it's a nightmare that finds him in the middle of the night, flames licking at his fingertips until he's tossing violently in the bed he's been sharing with Derek ever since the fire.

When the heat gets to be too much--when he's gasping and shaking and it feels like he can barely breathe, when he's seeing his mother, standing in the flames and melting like she's made of wax, screaming you did this, you did this, he snaps awake in a cold sweat, head jerking around the room.

Derek's gone--the other side of the bed is cold, and panic chokes him around the hert, grabs so hard and squeezes, that it suddenly feels like he's going to have tunnel vision, like the ash is filling up his lungs and all he can do is burn. ]

OH NO.

[triskeles]

[ Years later, Derek still doesn't sleep well at night.

He slips out of bed when Stiles seems settled, unable to sleep himself despite the comforting presence of the young man that's supposed to be his employer, not his friend and not something more. But ever since the opening night, he's found ten, twenty, thirty minutes to just spend time with Stiles and no one else, talking over food that they've made for one another and simply finding where they mesh rather than where they don't quite match. But he finds those points fascinating, always wants to see every facet of Stiles Stilinski, infuriating as he is.

But he's full of heart, and a fire that doesn't burn so much as it brightens and warms.

Of course the fire that burns and destroys had to come back, had to take away everything Stiles had worked for. Almost everything that mattered most to him. But Scott was just as much his friend as anyone else there, and he wasn't going to just sit idly by and let something happen to him when he was so important to Stiles. Not when Stiles was so important to him.

Even if it meant braving the fire, breathing smoke and ash and scalding heat again. It's been a hard month for all of them, as he finds himself seeing flames every time he closes his eyes.

So he's out of bed, predictably in the loft's kitchen, when he suddenly feels a wrongness. It's something he's felt before, something that he's never been able to explain, but it only takes him a sharp breath before he just knows. Practically dropping what he's doing, he rushes on silent, bare feet across from the kitchen and straight to his room, body tense and poised for action. ]

[hypercompetent]

[ Wheezing, Stiles curls over himself for a moment, trying to think about anything, breathing, breathing, breathing, counting numbers and reciting recipes in his head to try and stave it off.

When he lifts his head up, though, Derek's there, and Stiles freezes, looking at him for a moment with everything written wide across his face--he looks vulnerable, and he chokes out Derek's name, his hands curling in the sheets. It was a dream, Derek's not dead, Scott's not dead. Everyone's okay.

He takes a couple more short, shallow breaths, trying to keep steady, trying to focus. It's going to be okay. They're going to be okay. Derek helped make it okay. ]

I keep looking at this an thinking I want another thread so here you go

[hypercompetent]

[ Derek's not exactly a light sleeper. Stiles has figured that out by now, so many months into their relationship, be it real or fake. Any little movement seems to jerk him out of whatever state of comatose he's in--even if there's a couple seconds of bleary staring before he snaps back to his usual Agent Face.

So when he doesn't get home from work until three am, he considers going to drop down dead on the couch. But after a ridiculously long day, involving a murder case with a married couple--his dad had mentioned it outside of Beacon Hills with possible interest to him, so Stiles had traveled out to see it, all he wanted to do was crawl into bed with his not-spouse and sleep.

It seemed like the husband of the family had died protecting his wife; at the crime scene, they had to pull him off of her. Neither survived, and the entire mess was so stomach wracking that he had to step outside and leave, and now? Now it wouldn't get out of his head.

So the couch wasn't an option. The thought of a similar thing happening here--a very real possibility, considering their statuses, both as agents and as, well, not exactly spouses--made something in Stiles' bones chill, and so when he comes into the master bedroom as quietly as possible, stepping over Laura, he slips under the covers and presses his face in Derek's chest. It's stupid, because he knows Derek's going to wake up, but maybe he can just pretend that wasn't what he was hoping for from the minute he wound an arm around him. ]

aaaaaa.

[triskeles]

[ Once upon a time, Derek had been a heavy sleeper. His parents could move around his room and rearrange things and he would never have noticed until he woke up. Laura had gotten more than one prank in on him because of it. But then Kate Argent burned down everything in his life, and nightmares became more prevalent than rest did, and everything about Derek changed. Loss had that kind of effect on you: the greater the loss, the greater the change.

But it's been recently that he's started to not like sleeping alone. The only reason he does it now is because he's supposed to be taking an early shift tomorrow, helping a family expand their home without losing the original design that made it what it was. But he's discontent, without his fake spouse there. Stiles makes it easier to sleep, even when he's dealing with a bout of insomnia that leads to him doing coding or research-- for the mission or just mindless browsing both-- that leads to the agent utilizing open space on his lap.

As the front door open, he stirs a little, sighing out in his now half-sleep as the sounds of the apartment surround him. He can hear movement, but it's familiar rather than foreign, so he doesn't snap fully awake until Stiles' weight settles on the bed and he's slipping under the covers. But even then, he just lets consciousness settle over him, curling his arm around Stiles' and tucking him close to his body. ]

Hey. [ Voice thick from sleep, he shifts his other arm to pillow under Stiles' head, wrapping it around his shoulders as if he knows he needs the closeness. The security. (A part of him does.) ]

[hypercompetent]

[ As expected, Derek wakes up as soon as he gets close. It's a little embarrassing, to be seeking out comfort from his supposedly fake spouse, to be worried about losing his supposedly fake spouse, but Stiles didn't have to actually say anything about that, now did he.

Instead, he tucks his face into his chest, muffled and muttering. ] Go back to sleep, 's okay.

[ ...But because it's Stiles, he can't just let it go. He's quiet for a ten minutes or so, inhaling the smell of old leather and aftershave, closing his eyes, but he's so obviously jittery that he mumbles. ] ...Are you awake?

Well.

[triskeles]

lol woof icons

[hypercompetent]

[ Stiles Stilinski had gotten separated from his family when a small group of hunters had attacked them--as the weakest link, he was the quickest one for them to target, and the moment the hunters managed to separate Stiles from his mother, the alpha, the young werewolf literally bolted, shooting through the trees to try and spread his scent all across the forest they were in.

That had been almost two days ago. When he'd finally lost the hunters, exhausted, he'd made his way to a small creek in the forest he was in to get a drink and try desperately to find a scent that was at least sort of familiar. Out here, it was just the grass, the trees, a strong scent of petrichor, and the closest human thing--miles away.

When he sits back on his haunches, he drops back and lets out a howl--long, almost lonely sounding on the night, and heads back out into the forest again.

It's then that something catches around his hind leg and he makes an agonized noise of pain, hitting the ground the minute his vision goes white and starting to thrash around to try and get free--there's barely a second away from the blinding pain when he sees the trap.

If he survives this, he's going to have to off himself for being such an idiot. ]

surprised you aren't making /another/ account for that.

[triskeles]

[ After such a long shift at work-- they'd been behind schedule, so of course that meant having to haul their asses late into the night-- Derek Hale is more than happy to spend the night at the family home rather than his apartment. It means he can quietly add his laundry to the hamper there, wake up to someone else making breakfast, and get to see his family before it's yet another long day at work.

But the moment he starts up the porch steps, he has to freeze at the sound of a howl piercing through an otherwise quiet night. He pivots in a circle, trying to follow it and determine where it's coming from or if maybe he's just hearing things.

There haven't been wolves in California for fifty, sixty years now.

But he still moves, heading through the trees, using the tracking that his father taught him to make his way to the source of the sound. It sounded so alone, and as he draws nearer to the noises of the wolf in the trap, it doesn't occur to him that maybe he should be afraid. Not when his family has been passing down stories about wolves since long before even his grandfather was born. ]

don't tempt me

[hypercompetent]

[ Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. He's going to die out here, isn't he? Whatever's on the trap--aconite, his nose tells him, sharp and painful and making his eyes water--is going to kill him, keeping him from healing and slowly digging its way towards his already jackrabbit fast heart, and he makes a pathetic, pained noise. Once, he tests his limits, trying to squeeze out of the trap, but the movement just jars his legs further and he gnashes his teeth, hitting the ground and panting.

He's going to die.

There's a panic setting in from behind his eyes, whizzing around with the already hypersensitive everything from the wolfsbane--he's going to die, away from his parents, away from Scott, and no one'll even be able to find him, because a hunter's going to kill him and he's so screwed.

When his ears catch the sound of footsteps, he makes a loud noise, a combination between a yelp and a bark--that must be the hunter. ]

Sam!

[witnessprotection]

sup Cas

[sixbuckdropout]