voicetest | Entries tagged with entry: brackets

[You can't quite place it, but there's something slightly intimidating about the giant, secluded, Mary Shelly-esque manor. Maybe it's just something about the light. Either way, it's the only shelter for miles, and you're not going to let any sort of pop-cultural preconceptions keep you out here in the storm.

After a few solid seconds of knocking, the doors creak open to reveal a girl, probably no older than her late teens, covered in a network of stitches and surgical scars and flanked by a pair of monstrous manservants. Literally monstrous. One of them has a dog's head, for Christ's sake.

Maybe you should've just kept walking.]

Ah, hello! Can I help you?

chub

[A cigarette dangles loosely between his lips as he reaches for his lighter. Maybe he should do more, but he's a no collar boy with a genius IQ who doesn't want to take up the responsibility of saving everyone else. Maybe that's why he likes doing shitty schemes. In that way he's certainly Frank Gallagher's kid-- only he's smarter and better looking. Still he makes the ends meet however he has to, no matter what Fi thinks. This is his life after all.

So once the cigarette is lit, he'll start walking around the back of this old building. He can sell anything, though he doesn't have anything on him to protect himself. He's no Malkovich. But he's in the business of making money. He taps on the back door.]

I heard you got something for me, [Lip replies when the door finally opens.]

ooc: rating is for language/ illicit deals, etc etc. Lip is looking for anything/ anyone if he thinks he can make a buck on it.

larue

[ London, 2063.

The fog is thick tonight. It paints the world a particular shade of gray that blends streets and buildings together, so much that the glow of the street lamps seem to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.

A curious thing that you see though, is the sight of a young man in his mid-twenties, dressed in a deep crimson suit as he comes to a stop at one corner. There's a distinct click as he lights up a cigarette, the same hand that stows the gunmetal Zippo back in his pocket fishing out a phone that he brings to his ear. ]

All quiet on my end.

autopilots

[ He's sitting on a piece of concrete that's been cut away from a larger slab of concrete. It was probably part of a wall before; now it's only good for sitting on, and Raleigh doesn't mind it. It's as good a place to sit on as any.

Raleigh's picking at the dirt on his hardhat, when he looks over and sees someone loitering at the construction area. He knows it's been clearly marked as a dangerous area. ]

You're not supposed to be here without at least a hat on, you know.

saxappeal

[Somewhere in the middle of the rainy city, out on the downtown streets, there's the sound of a jazz quartet being headed by a skilled saxophone player drifting through the air. The problem is, getting close to the source of the music only shows one man in a giant trenchcoat, leaning against the brick wall exterior of a jazz club and handling a saxophone with the greatest of ease.

So, where's the rest of the music coming from? Maybe he's concealing a boombox or something underneath that trenchcoat. Either way, whether you want to get up in his business or lose yourself in the groove, well, that's up to you.]

ex_amperage109

[One of the regrettable side effects of being the God of Thunder was the occasional dramatic thunderstorm which would spontaneously erupt whilst he was hammering something or another...which normally wasn't a big deal. However.

There was a cake.

In the rain.

And it was kind of his fault and he recognized it and knew it. Yeah, sure, he was hammering something or another and saving the world, but still. The frosting was running into the ground. There were words which indicated that this wasn't just a cake, nay, this was a cake that was meant for some sort of festivities. A celebration of some kind! And it looked like once, perhaps, it had been delicious. That was before the spontaneous dramatic thunderstorm.

...in short, whoops. His bad.]

I am sorry.

highflyin

( Read more... )

[ooc: I'm sorry I'm breaking in the comm with this post I'm so sorry but I really do want to practice writing him since his dialogue is uh... unique.... For male characters who want to thread! there's a trigger warning for threats of sexual violence so please keep this in mind! ]

vtmod

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Entries tagged with entry: brackets

rating for extremely probable body horror. canon is Franken Fran

Hey, come on try a little. Nothing is forever

i write sins, not tragedies.

hell yeah

TW: the smoothest jazz

Yeah, yeah.

tw for post: violence, manipulation, achohol/drug use, setting is the gta canon

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