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User avatar
Groundskeeper

partially-stars Groundskeeper & member of RPG for 12 years

Author Promethean Conversation Starter Inspiration Conversationalist Friendly Beginnings Novelist Person of Interest Tipworthy Lifegiver Visual Appeal World Builder Greeter Concierge

i am shamelessly passionate and enthusiastic. talk to me and plot with me, send me memes about our characters.
706,085 words written.
1,701 total posts.
415 words per post.
11 posts per roleplay.
56 average days in a roleplay.
149 universes joined.
144.00 INK received in tips.

Basic Information

Username:
partially-stars
Occupation:
pharmacy student. dreamer.
Groups:
Began Role Playing:
0- 0-2007
Game Master:
No
Favorite Setting:
slice of life with external drama

User statistics

Joined:
Fri Jun 05, 2009 6:51 am
Last visited:
Tue Jun 22, 2021 4:36 pm
Medals:
14
Total posts:
Search user’s posts
(0.01% of all posts / 0.07 posts per day)
Most active forum:
Out of Character
(1720 Posts / 563.93% of user’s posts)
Most active topic:
The Arcana Academy
(312 Posts / 102.30% of user’s posts)

Contact partially-stars

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Medals

Author

Author

Wrote your first piece in a universe!

Promethean

Promethean

Successfully created a universe for others.

Conversation Starter

Conversation Starter

Created your first topic!

Inspiration

Inspiration

Another user created a post in a universe you created!

Conversationalist

Conversationalist

Participated in 10 different conversations on the forum!

Friendly Beginnings

Friendly Beginnings

You posted your first topic in the Welcome Forum.

Novelist

Novelist

Wrote over 80,000 total words!

Person of Interest

Person of Interest

Created a character that was later followed by another user!

Tipworthy

Tipworthy

Awarded for receiving your first tip from another user!

Lifegiver

Lifegiver

Created a character in an RPG universe.

Visual Appeal

Visual Appeal

Awarded for adding an avatar to your profile!

World Builder

World Builder

Created your first non-default location in an RPG universe!

Greeter

Greeter

Responded to 10 different topics in the Welcome Forum.

Concierge

Concierge

Responded to 25 different topics in the Welcome Forum.

Universes

123 created.
3 active.
120 inactive.
0 completed.

Universes Created

Tidal Waves

1x1 between iCat and Gentlemiss

The Pitiful Children

Oakson is being held captive by anonymous blackmailer WYLDE, who has taken to attacking its citizens. In response, some of the city's most fearless and broken have decided to try and protect the city. But will their own destructive secrets get in the way?

Ground Control

(1x1 between myself and SleepingInTheGardens)

in pursuit of a dream

1x1 between iCat and The Writer's Voice

The Echo

These streets are no longer safe. Both vampires and slayers are beginning to fight. (Literate roleplayers only.

The Wounded World

The heroes have fallen, and our existence is still threatened. For the first time in history, the villains must become the heroes.

Bite My Tongue

I'm married to the music For better or for worse You say that I wish for this But your gift is my curse

villains

Returning home changes their relationship. What they discover there may fracture them irreparably.

A Show Like No Other

Ladies and gentlemen, please take to your seats. The greatest show this circus has ever put on is about to be revealed... And it is about to recreate the world we grew up in.

Say Anything

The authorities here are hopeless. You want justice? You've got to go out and get it yourself. Or, if that's not an option, come talk to us. Who are we? We are Say Anything. We are vigilantes for hire.

Most Tipped Posts

5.00 INK received for post #2819789, located in Gravity Falls, Maine:

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elliot fox
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the outcast. outfit. #96909c.
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they're better off without you,
cause a scene like you're supposed to
they'll fall asleep without you
you're lucky if your memory remains
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If he was being completely honest, Elliot would have rather not been in town on that day of all days. Being home was going to be hard enough as it was without being there on the anniversary. But the way everything had shaped up, it was the only day he could arrive. His parents weren't around either. It was Steve and his mom's fifth anniversary, and they'd had a non-refundable cruise booked. It did at least mean he had his childhood home to himself, but he wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

Town had hardly changed since the last time he'd been home. Hell, it had hardly changed since he'd left. He was sure that it was a comfort to some, but it just left him feeling uneasy. Things were supposed to change. His neighborhood on the outskirts of LA seemed to change every time he left for a tour. But here he was, home for the longest time in seven and a half years, and nothing had changed. Except him, he reminded himself. He didn't have to be the same person he'd been back then. He wouldn't be that person.

He'd never been able to sleep on planes, and even though his flight was an overnight one, that didn't change. He'd rented a car and driven up himself, so he knew he should have been exhausted by the time he was dumping his bags on his bed. He should have been ready to pass out. But instead, he felt wide awake, too anxious to even think about sleeping. Was this a good idea? Had any of this been a good idea? He tried lying down on the bed in the hope his body would win out over his brain, but after ten minutes of staring at the ceiling, sleep feeling as far away as ever, he figured it was futile. So, instead, he decided to go for breakfast.

The diner had always been the best place in town to get breakfast after a long night, and while the unchanging nature of Gravity Falls freaked him out a little, that was the one thing he hoped hadn't changed. As he approached the diner, he spotted a familiar figure a short distance away. Somebody he'd only seen over screens for the past year and a half, since he'd managed to avoid coming home last Christmas. He grinned and began making his way over to them. They hadn't spotted him yet, by the looks of things. He had some witty comment in his head, ready to say to catch their attention, when, at the last moment, he spotted the animal they had on their leash.

"Is that a freaking otter?" he said as he reached Eden, almost without realising it. Then he grinned at them. "Hi."





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eva conrad
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the journalist. outfit. #ebb13a.
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she's a killer queen
gunpowder, gelatine
dynamite with a laser beam
guaranteed to blow your mind
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"On the surface, Gravity Falls seems just like any other town this far out in the woods. It's... quirky. But not in a bad way. The people are pleasant. A little... strange, perhaps, but pleasant. Truth be told, for most people, it's hard to tell if they're genuinely strange, or if it's an act that they're putting on. Gravity Falls' only tourist attractions is the lake and a charming establishment known as... the Mystery Shack. Gravity Falls' brand is that of the weird and the mysterious, so it makes sense that the people would be the same. But there's an undercurrent of... something else. Something... darker. I met a detective this week investigating a cold case from twenty years ago. His name is Detective Mason Cartwright, and I spoke with him yesterday about why he's here."

Eva clicked the stop button and groaned, stretching. The first episode of Orbiting was supposed to be coming out the next day, and Eva was still trying to get everything recorded and edited. Because she had plenty of experience in editing and putting shows together, she'd volunteered to do the bulk of the editing as well, with her producer doing any final tweaks and touch-ups. It had possibly been a little too much work to take on, but she wasn't backing down now. It just meant several early mornings and late nights. She, at least, had all of the interviews she needed recorded, it was just scripting and recording her own thoughts.

She'd already been at her desk recording takes for almost forty minutes, and she needed food. Being told, she didn't entirely trust the bed and breakfast's breakfast offerings, so instead, she sent a text to Vi.

To: Vi
wanted: recommendations for the best breakfast in town. reward: i buy you breakfast in return.

She'd been so glad when she'd arrived into town to discover Vi was also around. Knowing just one person in town made it so much easier to settle in and start to find out information. It meant that she got all the best insider knowledge and gossip, as well as having someone to grab a few drinks with in the evenings. Her phone buzzed with a reply from Vi.

From: Vi
“Best breakfast is a place that doesn't normally sell it! La Cocina de Serrano, I will meet you at the front door, I have connections ;)”

Eva grinned, grabbing her bag and slinging it onto her shoulder, before heading out to meet Vi.


4.00 INK received for post #2816835, located in Widow's Peak:

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A demon just smiled to himself as he let the man take back control of his own body. He was done playing games with that body, the townspeople in the market were frightened enough. But he certainly wasn’t done playing games. He could feel two more souls in a small diner, their fear and confusion and panic making them vulnerable and so, so easy to control. And oh, the destruction he could cause there… Finally, he was making the town pay for everything they had done, everything that had been taken from him. One of the souls put up more of a fight than the other, but he still took control easily and smiled that wretched smile. Only one of them had gotten the abilities of telekinesis. Never mind. There was plenty he could do with just the other's bare hands.

In the small diner, people were already hiding and running, the strange blonde woman having already disturbed them enough. The two women sitting opposite each other got to their feet in sync, their eyes both having turned a pitch, bottomless black. They paid no heed to the third woman who stood beside them. The glass in the windows near them shattered, one by one, closely followed by the lights hanging over their table. The blonde woman pushed past Nixie, not even acknowledging her. As she walked, glass kept shattering, lights and windows turning into mere shards without her even having to look at them.

The brunette smiled that awful, twisted smile and sauntered up to the counter. With strength that seemed to exceed what her frame should have been capable of, she picked up one of the stools and hurled it over the counter with enough force to break both the stool itself and shatter the tiles on the wall where it hit. She sent the items on the counter flying with a swing of her arm.

The two of them wreaked havoc on the diner, never touching anyone there but instead choosing to simply cause as much destruction as possible. The blonde had picked up a few cuts from the broken glass but hadn’t as much as flinched at any of them, and hardly seemed to notice them. When they got bored with the diner, they stepped out onto the street to find cops waiting for them outside. They laughed, their actions mirrored.

The demon briefly considered leaving the two souls to deal with things there and then. But no. He wasn’t done yet, and besides, he thought, the town needed to know what they’d done. They needed to know why they were suffering and that they could do nothing to stop it. They needed to know exactly what they’re dealing with. So when he spoke, he spoke through both of them.

“You took my love from me forty-nine years ago. Forty nine years, I have waited and waited for this moment. And now, I will make your precious town suffer. I will see it burn if I must. You will pay for all of the pain and the suffering you have brought seven-fold.”

Finally satisfied with the chaos he had caused and beginning to feel the drain of having possessed two bodies at once, the demon withdrew and let the souls regain control of their own bodies, smiling with satisfaction as their bodies crumpled with exhaustion.


4.00 INK received for post #2817393, located in Scarmouth:

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noah lawson
the medic - #879788 - outfit

i hear the voices when I'm dreaming
i can hear them say
carry on my wayward son
there'll be peace when you are done

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The last thing Noah wanted to do after yet another long shift was go to some awards ceremony for “significant figures in the revolution.” He’d seen enough of the revolution in person and he didn’t particularly want to be reminded of it. But Gabriel had said that they’d invited representatives from the Emergency Department after their role in things, and so Noah had agreed to go. Apparently there was going to be free alcohol and free canapes, which was at least something.

It had been six months since the revolution ended, and things were being rebuilt. They had a new government that was already implementing sweeping changes. It wasn’t official yet, but word around the hospital was that in the next few weeks, the healthcare system was going to move over to publicly funded. Public housing had already been implemented and the number of homeless people on the streets was dropping rapidly by the day. The damage caused in the rioting and fighting was long gone, just a memory.

But it was a memory that was sticking in Noah’s head. The nightmares weren’t as intense as they had been in the initial aftermath, but they were still very much there. The scar on his stomach was healed, but there were mornings he awoke and for a few seconds, the pain was still there. When he walked down the street, he was waiting for an ambush, for an explosion, for anything. The entire group of emergency med residents had stopped going to bars after work because every time a glass shattered, they all flinched and almost launched back into action.

Thankfully, the awards ceremony didn’t seem to dwell on the actual fighting too much. It seemed to be more government focused, awarding and recognising those who had protected their communities throughout the fighting. Someone who had helped smuggle people out of the fighting, someone who had created safe spaces for their community... They were in what appeared to be the last few awards when they began describing a scenario that was uncomfortably familiar.

“The next award we’d like to present is to someone who was selfless and brave on the front lines. We are deeply grateful to all of the staff of Scarmouth’s Emergency Departments who put themselves in harm’s way to save lives and minimise loss of life. But this man drew attention for his actions after he was photographed treating the wounded, even as a government soldier had a gun pointed at his head. Stories from those who served on the front lines tell us this was not the first or only such of these incidents, and that this doctor fearlessly and selflessly treated the wounded indiscriminately. Tonight, we would like to recognise Dr. Noah Lawson of SUH for his bravery and thank him for his service with the Medic’s Hero award.”

Noah glanced over at Gabriel, and the man’s small smile gave away where all this had come from. All around him, people were applauding, some even getting to their feet. Noah just wanted to climb under the table and wait until the moment passed, but he couldn’t. He managed a smile as he stood up and made his way up to the stage, taking the statuette and shaking the presenter’s hand. And then one of them smiled and said, “Would you like to say a few words, Doctor?”

Noah could feel the blood drain from his face. He instinctively looked back towards Gabriel, whose smile had slipped slightly but who nodded, somewhat encouragingly. Noah swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as he felt what had to be hundreds of eyes on him. He wanted to shake his head and run back to his seat or possibly just straight out of the room, but everyone was watching, waiting, waiting to see if he lived up to what they expected. He knew he wouldn’t, but he cleared his throat.

“Thank you all for this aw- w- w- for this recognition.” He started. He tried remembering every single bit of advice he’d been given on how to minimise it, but his head was blank. And anyway, the rising discomfort and anxiety in his chest as he saw people glance at each other at his stammering was going to completely counteract anything he tried. He kept it as brief, knowing it was probably too short, but he couldn’t get off the stage quickly enough. And then they moved on to some other award, and eyes were finally off him.

“Noah, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise there would be a speech-” Gabriel said as Noah made it back to the table.
“It’s f-fine,” Noah said, sitting back down. The statuette was clutched so tightly in his hand it was starting to dig in, and he released it, stretching his hand a few times. He could feel Gabriel watching him for a few seconds, but his attention eventually turned back to the stage. As they announced the final few awards, Noah was restless, unable to concentrate or focus on anything around them. As the awards wrapped up, the hosts invited everyone to mingle and have a few drinks and canapes in the adjoining bar. As everyone moved, rushing to the bar at the promise of free food and alcohol, Noah slipped away, saying something about the bathroom to Gabriel. The bathroom was quiet and calm, exactly what Noah wanted and needed. He wet his hands and ran them down his face. For the half a moment his eyes were closed, he saw the barrel of the gun pointed at his face, saw his hands coated in blood- was it his own or someone else’s? He shook himself out of it, almost physically. He dug in his pockets, fishing out the pills he knew he had. There was one almost heart-stopping moment where he couldn’t feel them- and then his hand closed around the bottle. He tipped two out and swallowed them dry, taking a deep breath. And then he stashed them back in his pocket and headed back out towards the bar.


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hatch williams
the mechanic- #400026 - outfit

i wasn't born yesterday
a bloodsport but I'm a saint
it's time to consider
there are no winners

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Hatch hadn’t specifically received an invite to the awards ceremony, but an open invitation had been publicly issued for people to celebrate those who had been nominated and recognised. And the promise of free booze had been enough to lure Hatch into attending. And besides, she was curious to see the types of people who were getting recognised.

Choosing an outfit had taken her a while. She didn’t tend to get dressed up all that much and finding something she could actually stand wearing for a while was difficult. She’d contemplated a dress for a while, but nothing seemed right. And then she found the suit and everything fell into place. Roger looked confused for just a second as she stepped out of her room in heels and makeup. And then he jumped off the couch and ran towards the door.

“Not this evening, buddy.” He whined a little. “Trust me, buddy, I’d love to bring you, but don’t want to draw attention to myself. Not this evening. You look after the house for me, okay?”

By the time Hatch reached the hotel, she was fashionably late. She thought that she might have been out of luck with regards to getting a seat, but apparently the organisers had anticipated the demand as she was shown to a seat at the very back of the room. Her view of the stage was somewhat obscured, but that didn’t overly trouble her. She sat, her legs crossed, and watched the awards with some level of scepticism and interest.

They had an interesting range of awards for sure, and one thing that she noted was that the range of people that were being recognised was significantly broader than the old government would have recognised. There were people of all ages, all areas of the revolution, from all areas of the city. The focus seemed to be on bravery and loyalty, and things took a turn into the overly patriotic for Hatch. The speeches were at least kept brief and non-preachy. There were a few figures that she had heard mention of somewhere along the way, but none of them seemed to match what she imagined. One thing that struck her was the fact that none of them stood out. She'd walk past half of them in the street.

Eventually, the awards wrapped up, and Hatch followed the surge of people towards the bar. Her first priority was to get her hands on a glass of champagne, and then she turned to scan the room, seeing if there was anyone of interest to talk to. She new there had to be plenty, but scanning the room, nobody particularly stood out to her. She took a long sip of her champagne and stayed watching the room.


3.25 INK received for post #2816466, located in Widow's Peak:

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SOREN BOWERS
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outfit : herex|xhex: #4d5676
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xxxnever did I think I'd be coming back around
xxxdigging up old memories
xxxalways used to be the one to let it go
xxxkept my fears in a suitcase

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MARKUS VASCO
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outfit: herex|xhex: #800000
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xxxThey say I may be making a mistake
xxxI would've followed all the way, no matter how far
xxxI know when you go down all your darkest roads
xxxI would've followed all the way to the graveyard

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Markus found himself staring blankly at the man as he began to speak. Trying to convince himself that he was just imagining things. That there was no way that this was him. There was just no way. It was seven years now, he had seen the body, been to the funeral, everything. So, there was no way, he was just seeing things he so desperately wanted to see. But then, the other man spoke and Markus could have sworn his heart stopped in his chest. His voice. That voice. It was his. And suddenly, Markus didn’t know what to believe. Was he truly losing his mind? Was this the day he finally just lost all of his remaining senses? Probably. But, even if he was just seeing things that weren’t really happening, Markus didn’t want it to end just yet. He shook his head, taking him out of his thoughts as he finally felt strength return back to his legs to help pull him along as the other man got back in line. Markus didn’t know if he was staring or not, but he must have been as his eyes scanned over the man that stood before him as he spoke. Nodding ever so slightly as he said that he was from around here. That he grew up here. Or, that he thought he did. Markus didn’t understand what he meant, but kept silent as the man continued to talk. Not like he had much of a choice, seeing as his voice caught itself in his throat and wouldn’t come out as hard as he tried.

He found himself continuing to scan over the man that stood next to him trying to understand what the fuck was going on. Hell, he was close to asking what kind of sick joke was this, until the man finally said that he was sorry about his memory, and how he had bad amnesia. And that if he seemed to come across as rude, that he wasn’t doing it on purpose. Markus took the cup the man handed to him, and took a sip. The drink helped clear his throat a bit, but not much. Markus finally found himself regain that strength he needed to speak, and he couldn’t help it as his voice came out in a shaky tone, try as he might to not have his voice break, “It...It’s okay.” he began, clearing his throat and took a deep breath as the two began to walk once more. Markus took another moment to gather his thoughts, he didn’t know what was going on but, if Soren was really fucking here, somehow...Well, he wasn’t going to waste it. He didn’t care. All he wanted was to be able to talk to his best friend again-no, the person he cared for more than a friend, but that was so long ago. As if it was almost a life time ago. But, however many years may have passed by, and however older he may have looked...This was Soren. His Soren. His best friend. Markus bit his lip for a moment and began to finally speak again, “Yeah...I guess you could say we used to know each other.” Markus said with a small chuckle, however forced it was.

This felt so unreal, but he wasn’t going to waste time with this. Markus sighed as he looked down at the ground before looking back at Soren. “We...We used to be best friends, Soren. Me, you...and one of our other friends.” he paused for a moment, finally for the first time his memory went back to how things used to be. Back when they were kids, the three of then. He shook his head once more as he continued, “But, that was a long time ago. A really long time ago...But, that doesn’t matter. You’re back and...That’s all that matters.” he smiled slightly, a rather genuine for the first time in a long time. He looked back at Soren, “I won’t ask what happened but...If there’s anything I can clear up for you...I’ll be more than happy to, if I can.”

Soren could have guessed from the man’s reaction that they had somehow known each other, but being told that they had been best friends just broke Soren’s heart. He watched the man, desperately hoping for something to be familiar, for something to just trigger the memories and they’d come flooding back. But besides that lingering feeling that they had known each other, there was nothing. Soren studied the man’s face for a second or two, before things fell into place.

“You’re Markus, right? Markus Vasco?” He said, his face lighting up in a smile at the realisation that the name finally had a face to match. Even though he asked it as a question, his gut told him he was right. Markus Vasco, his best friend… well, before. For a moment, there was that burst of emotion, just lingering for a second, but this time, echoes of the emotions remained. Not enough that he could remember why he felt them, but it was something.

“Well… I mean, even if you did ask what had happened, I don’t think I could answer. I… just woke up two days ago and… poof. No memories, no… nothing. All I could remember was my own name.” He decided against mentioning that his first thought had been Markus’ name for some reason. Now he knew who he was, he swore that the man’s face was familiar. But there was a bittersweet undertone. He knew who Markus was, but he couldn’t remember any of their history, any of the things that defined their friendship. All of the things he could remember were things he’d rather forget, but the good memories were completely out of reach.

“I… have no idea what happened. Just… nothing. Do… do you know?” He asked, turning slightly to look at Markus. There was a wave of that same anxiety he felt whenever he went to type his own name into google, except this time it didn’t go away, settling into his chest and wrapping around his lungs. Soren cleared his throat in an attempt to ease the building pressure, but it didn’t budge. He felt in his pocket for his cigarettes, but he’d left them on the window of his apartment. He took a sip of his cider, trying desperately to ignore the growing pressure in his chest.

Markus nodded slowly as he could tell Soren was trying to piece things together, and the moment he heard Soren say his name, a smile appeared on his face. But for just a moment. “Yeah. That, that’s me.” a tone of excitement rang through his voice, quickly clearing his throat as he recomposed himself. Taking a deep breath as he listened to what Soren said. Not exactly fully understanding but, for as far as Markus was concerned, why would Soren be lying about this? It didn’t make sense. Hell, none of this made sense. Markus took a deep breath, before taking a sip of his drink, “Uhm...I think it’d be best if we...Sat down first..?” he motioned with his head to a few benches that were off to the side of the main square, far enough away from most crowds. Once they both sat down, Markus put the drink down next to him on the bench, and clasped his hands infront of him before he began to talk, “Soren..” Markus began, “....Seven years ago...There was an accident...We got into an argument and….We both stormed off...I don’t know what happened exactly but...You got into a car accident, and...Sor... You didn’t make it.” his voice dipped at the end, as tears began to fill his eyes. He let out a long held breath in a small gasp, rubbing his head. “...You wouldn’t know this cuz...Well...You were gone after this but...Our other friend...Erin she...She died not too long after you…” he shook his head, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his knees as he looked away. This was the first time in years he talked about either of them. And now, he was somehow talking to Soren again? Whether he was really here, or Markus was just imagining it, he didn’t know. But, if this was really Soren, however he may have been here, he deserved to know.

Soren’s chest tightened even more as Markus suggested they should sit down, but he just nodded numbly. It felt like every nerve in his body was screaming at him to run away, to leave, that he wouldn’t like what he was about to hear, but he needed to know. He needed to know what the hell had happened to him.

But he never would have guessed what Markus was about to say. He had died. Seven years ago. It felt like there was a weight pressing on his chest now, enough that it hurt to breathe. He wanted to accuse Markus of lying, wanted to say it had to be some type of sick joke. But… deep down, it felt like he knew. When he desperately tried to call up some memory of the incident, all that came up were all the bad memories he’d tried not to think about. The shattering of glass less than an inch away from his face, the burning of cuts, and the sickening smell of whiskey. The fear of creeping through an empty house as silently as possible in case it wasn’t as empty as he thought.

“This… this can’t be happening,” he managed to force out, searching Markus’ face for some type of answer. “I can’t… how did I-“ The weight on his chest now was unbearable, and Soren realised that the light above their head had begun to flicker and both his and Markus’ cups of cider were now floating in mid air. His hands were flickering in and out of sight. “I need to go.” He bolted to his feet, looking at Markus for just a second longer. “I’m sorry.” He managed to get out, before turning and walking away.

He didn’t know where he was going or why, but all he knew was that he needed to get out of there before something bad happened. Back to the apartment, back to where he was safe, away from everyone else. The quickest way home was through the crowds, and his intense discomfort won out over his desire to be away from people.

It was when he was in the crowd, surrounded by people, that it happened. His vision suddenly went black, and it felt like he’d been pushed into a freezing lake, gasping for air that wasn’t coming and the cold practically painful against his skin, even through his clothes. And then there was a voice. Low and dark and sinister. “I’ll take things from here.” It sounded smug, as if this was a game. And Soren couldn’t do anything to stop it.

And suddenly it seemed like he was watching his body from somewhere else. Something else was wearing his skin. Soren had never stood that tall in his life, had never worn an expression like that, one that was somewhere between idle boredom and intense hatred. It took him a moment to identify what was wrong. The iris of his eyes was pitch black, darker than dark, chilling when you looked at them for even a millisecond too long.

A demon was wearing his skin and using it to wreak destruction. Soren wasn’t sure if the limitations of his strange new abilities were just gone or if the demon just knew how to use it better. Because handmade stalls, impeccably made stalls, were shattered to smithereens with just a lazy toss of it’s- his- hand. In only a few short moments, it had destroyed half of the carefully made stalls without a second thought. And it smiled, an awful, twisted smile that looked all wrong on Soren’s face. It caught two people staring at him in terror and that horrible smile widened.

“Haven’t you ever seen a ghost before?” It asked, in a voice that was both his and not his, reverberating all wrong for such an open area. “Consider this your first warning. Restore what was mine to me or I will use these vessels to bring more destruction than you can ever imagine,” it called. It turned its cold, harsh gaze on a figure that Soren swore he knew, and Soren panicked. He didn’t know how he did it or even that he could, but he flung his consciousness towards his body. And it worked, because there was that same feeling of being temporarily submerged in water, of breathlessness and not being able to breathe.

For a moment, he stood exactly as the demon had stood. And then his legs gave out at the same time as a wave of dizziness and exhaustion hit him, and he hit the ground, dazed and trying to piece things back together.


3.00 INK received for post #2815997, located in Widow's Peak:

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SOREN BOWERS
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outfit : herex|xhex: #4d5676
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xxxnever did I think I'd be coming back around
xxxdigging up old memories
xxxalways used to be the one to let it go
xxxkept my fears in a suitcase

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A gasp filled the empty apartment, and a formerly still body sat bolt upright. Soren gasped for air, his heart still pounding in his chest.This had happened every single night since he’d first woken up in this apartment. Every time he woke up, he woke up afraid, but the memories of the dream disappeared as soon as he tried to remember them, vanishing like smoke into the abyss of his mind. His phone was hovering a foot off the bedside table, and he snatched it from the air, checking the time. He didn’t know why he could suddenly move things without touching them or why they tended to hover in midair when he was upset about something or why he seemed to flicker in and out of sight at times. He didn’t know why his memory was so blank. He didn’t know where he was, why he was here, or what the hell he was supposed to do about it. He’d hoped he might figure it out with time, but two days later and he still had no idea. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something he needed to do and that something was urgent, and every morning he found himself reaching for his phone as if the answer would be there. It never was.

It was late morning, later than he’d meant to sleep. Groaning to himself, he grabbed the packet of smokes on his bedside table, pulled on a hoodie, took up his usual position, sitting on his window sill with the window open as wide as it would go, and lit up a cigarette. Even if he couldn’t remember what the dreams were about, or why he was here or what the hell was happening to him, he knew that a smoke was one of the only things that could calm the tremors in his hands and the shaking of his breath. It seemed that the things he couldn’t remember outweighed the things he did. His memory was just a gaping void, full of things that he felt he could almost remember, but the minute anything became halfway clear, it would just slip out of reach. Except for a few memories, and almost all of them were ones he would have been fine with forgetting.

And then there was the name. Markus Vasco. It had been his first thought when he’d opened his eyes two days ago, and it was a name that seemed to be constantly whispered in his mind ever since. He’d done a bit of research, and it seemed he was a tattoo artist somewhere in town. Soren had the address written down on a piece of paper, but something was holding him back, stopping him from going and looking just yet. What the hell was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? Hi, two days ago I woke up with total amnesia and for some reason, the only name I could remember besides my own was yours. Do you have any idea about it? Because I sure as hell don’t.

He sighed, blowing out a lungful of smoke out the window into the street and watched as it twisted and curled, before fading into nothing. Somebody had once told him the cigarettes would kill him one day, and he’d just laughed and shrugged. He blinked at the sudden memory, but the faces around it were gone, empty faces he just couldn’t recall no matter how much he tried. He stubbed out the cigarette and closed the window, figuring he needed to get dressed and figure out what the hell he was going to do for the day. There was a leaflet abandoned on the counter, one that had been shoved into his hand by someone on the street yesterday, advertising the town’s Halloween festival. Even if the night itself was just under two weeks away, the town seemed to run events for the whole of October. Soren went over to pick up the leaflet. Something, deep inside him, told him that was where he should go tonight. Well, it wasn’t like he had any better plans.

He spent the rest of the day just in the apartment, doing a little more reading into this Markus Vasco. He’d considered googling his own name more than once, but every time he went to type his name in, a wave of panic and anxiety came over him, telling him not to do it. He figured that reaction meant that he probably wasn’t going to like whatever he found, so he just never looked. But he couldn’t find much on this Markus person either, and he knew that meant he probably just needed to get over himself and go talk to him. He promised himself he’d do it the following day, but first he’d decided to go to this Halloween market for whatever reason.

He pulled on his trusted silver jacket, put on some eyeliner to make him feel a little more like himself (another thing he instinctively knew and couldn’t explain), and headed out. It was cold, but it had at least stopped raining. His breath came out in a swirl of fog as he walked, pulling his jacket a little tighter around him. Torches lined the streets, giving everything an eerie and atmospheric look. Stalls lined Main Street, with local businesses all running stalls of all and every kind. There were people selling handmade masks and costumes, local artists selling art, and so much wonderful looking and smelling food. He bought a cup of hot apple cider and wandered down the street, looking at the stalls and wondering what it was exactly that had drawn him here, or if it had just been curiosity and something to do.


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