open post / test drive!

[cupnoodles]

FAMILY DINNER

CW: NONE, WARN IN SUBJECT

When Raíz visits, everyone is expected to show up for family dinner a few days later. That's how long you have to show up at the HQ mansion, no matter where you are in the world, no matter how busy or disinclined you are to make an appearance. If you're not there by the time is begins, Raíz will simply show up wherever you are, pick you up and materialize the both of you back at the mansion, tacking on a year or two to your contract.. Everyone is also expected to behave; starting trouble during dinner just gets you mind controlled into behaving to a Stepford Wife degree of compliance.

Since Raíz won't be played ICly, feel free to play this prompt before or after dinner itself takes place. Maybe your character is coming 'home' after a long time away, maybe they're getting ready to leave after it's done, maybe they've decided to stay a few more days or they're just going back to their routine if they already live in the mansion. Play it out as the before or after of any massive family reunion where you're happy to be there or can't wait to get the hell out.

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OUT ON A MISSION

CW: NONE, WARN IN SUBJECT

From 007 to SCP, Blood Pact missions can vary between retrieving information, retrieving some ancient artifact, fighting full out monsters or even saving the world from some apocalyptic event. Let your imagination dictate the type of mission your characters are on and why they've been paired up. It can be a thread where they're getting briefed, or en route, or staying at some motel, or entering the lair of a beast that can behead them with a single bite if they're not careful. From the banal to the paranormal, Raíz's agents are ready for (almost) anything mom tells them to do. Well - mom lets Great Dane know what she wants them to do, and he's in charge of passing on the message.

---

HALLOWEEN PARTY

CW: NONE, WARN IN SUBJECT

Cellar Spider, much to Great Dane's annoyance, has decided to throw a Halloween party at the mansion! Everyone in the Blood Pact is free to join, and hey - if they really want to, they can even bring a plus one. (Why would you do that, though.) Blue organized the meticulously arranged sweets, Red carved a lot of pumpkins (like a lot), Monarch assembled the playlist, Velvet brought the moonshine, Moon made sure everything looked fucking amazing, and Salamander spiked the punch. Costumes are in fact mandatory! Raíz will not be appearing because she's busy being an eldritch abomination in some other dimension.

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VOICE / TEXT / VIDEO

CW: NONE, WARN IN SUBJECT

Post something to the massive group chat, or just DM each other gossip. Or Else.

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PLEASE READ

A NOTE ON CONTENT TO AVOID

Hi there! Nubl here. For my own comfort, please avoid engaging in the following subjects ICly and in introspection: different generation incest (parent-child, uncle/aunt-niece/nephew, grandparent-grandchild, etc.); pregnancy or breeding as a kink or as a horror trope, needles/piercings, watersports, and non-con/rape. You're totally free to play them out elsewhere, I'm just asking to keep it off-comm please! Though this isn't meant to be a smut-heavy post, threads may certainly end up there - just make sure to warn in the subject that it's NSFW! Thank you so much everyone, have fun!!

「RR」

Comments

[overts]

[ They own knives? Interest peaks. ]

i wanna see your knives.

[ Tyrant's a simple person (not really). Knives a cool. If they have knives, she wants to see them. Surely they will say something about them. ]

maybe, if you behave.

[thip]

(Ha, there's an opening here.)

you can look at them if i can keep yours

[overts]

[ They're being cheeky. It makes her smile. Stop that. ]

Okay. Only one though.

Bring them? Unless you own an entire wall, you can show me later then.

[thip]

theyre in a pile (Everything is.) so come look at them later

later later i mean
coming to help with the outfit now
cya

[overts]

i won't forget.

door's unlocked.

[ They'll find Tyrant sitting at her vanity desk, carefully working on her make up, wearing a thin black robe. She motions at them to enter without turning. The costume, nice and shiny, sits on a rack nearby. ]

Just... one second. Don't wanna poke my eye out.

[thip]

(They take their time to get to her and the vanity, looking at everything else in her room on the way by. They stop to touch various trinkets and affects, and run their hands over clothing left laid on the bed. Tyrant, busy concentrating on her make-up, may eventually notice they've gone silent — and moments later, their face appears in her mirror right where her reflection was, protruding about an inch out of the glass.

They can only keep a straight face on for a second before they break and snigger.)

Hi.

[overts]

[ The room is mainly black and white, accents of different colors around; a few golden and red decorations thrown around, as well as her clothes. It's made of sharp ends and pointy things. The only soft things are the king sized bed on the corner, the large sofa next to a window and the puff couches thrown around. All black. One could argue that the one other soft thing in the room is Tyrant herself, but maybe not to her face.

Tyrant is almost done delineating her eyes when her face is replaced by Sal's. She deadpans at the intrusion, pencil spinning in her fingers. ]

Hi. Are you physical enough for me to jab this into one of your eyes?

[ She makes a stabbing motion with the pencil, but ultimately smiles and leans in. ]

Seeing you with my hair around your face is...new. Now get out of there. Go look for my knife collection until mommy is ready.

[thip]

Don't— (They duck back out again at the mere suggestion of the pencil stab, giggle swallowed up by the glass.

Seconds later they resurface to look at her again.) Do you like it? (Sal if they were goth maybe, and wore their hair long and black. Some how they manage to slowly turn and tilt their face all the way around until they're staring at Tyrant upside down — before vanishing again.

On their way to the knife collection they touch and then swiftly pocket a nail file with an obsidian-like bevelled edge.)

Why do you collect knives?

[overts]

It doesn't suit you.

[ "I like your hair."

Her eyes follow Sal lazily. She notices when they pocket the nail file; Tyrant is the epitome of "eyes everywhere", in more ways than her power might suggests. She just makes a mental note of buying another. Things are things, she uses, breaks and throws them away.

She leans back in to finish her eye, but stops before she can start again. ]

Why can't you ask if you can take something? I would've given it to you.

[ She sighs. ]

Have you ever stabbed someone to death?

[thip]

(Ah, caught — they shudder, uncomfortable. Tyrant is one of the more difficult of the family to take from, the sort of challenge Sal can never resist undertaking.) Because I'm stealing from you, Ty. If you have to ask it's not stealing. (But they smoothly slide the file back out of their pocket and onto her bedside table with little fanfare, as if they didn't really want it after all.

For the record they would never attempt to steal one of the knives they are now bent over, examining, for once, without their hands.)

Nah. (Too messy. Why do that when you can drag somebody top half into the floor and leave them like that, crushed and suffocating? You don't have to hear them die that way.) You've stabbed people with all of these, have ya?

[overts]

[ Tyrant looks at her finished work, blinks a few times, and nods to herself. Flawless, as usual. She then stands and saunters towards Sal, grabbing the nail filer and sliding it in Sal's back pocket, before slapping their ass. ]

Well, it's a fucking gift now, darling.

[ She leans over the case with her knives, it's protective glass lifted. There's several rows of knives; some are really expensive-looking, with gems and/or precious metal finishes that make them look luxurious, but also some that look particularly old, relic like. At the very bottom, a rather plain, military issue knife rests alone, the only one sheathed too; this one looks clearly bloodstained, although the blood seems to be as old as the knife. ]

Nah. [ She mirrors Sal with a smile. She throws her thumb at a drawer next to them. ] My hunting knives are in there. These are just the ones I like to collect. And in case you were wondering; few things feel as raw and personal as sinking a blade into someone and see the life bleed out of their bodies.

[ She smiles sweetly as she pushes back and turns around. ]

[thip]

(Caught off guard they make a little noise at the slap without meaning to, a tight ah that instantly makes them flush. In embarrassed silence they watch her examine her collection, noting the pride in it. Every blade has its place. They can feel the nail file sitting in their back pocket, a tease.)

I wasn't wondering. (But they have before, especially when Tyrant seems to find such pleasure in it. What she likes from killing she likes from sex, she likes to cross the streams. Sal doesn't like to look at blood. They don't even like, in the seconds before death, when a body will complete one last jerk of panic before going limp. It's disturbing. It isn't fun.

They look at her now, considering, then past her toward the case, craning their neck.)

... What's the one at the bottom? (The one that is so obviously different.)

[overts]

[ She likes that reaction. Not because is cute (it is), but because is vulnerable. It's soft. Sal is a lot of things, but most are rough and careless. Plus they have a nice ass and Tyrant would keep her hand there all the time if it wasn't such a hassle to keep them quiet. ]

Uh-huh.

[ There is...a lot of unpack between the release that killing gives her. They're not entirely wrong with the sex parallels, but they don't come from the same place. Whether one is "better" than the other...she can't tell.

Tyrant turns around to face them, her robe parted to reveal she's wearing some sort of tiny black thong thing that might break if someone looks at it the wrong way and an equally thin strapless bra that's pushing her tits just the right way. ]

My first knife. You can pick any knife, just not that one. I'm not done with that one yet.

[thip]

(They look up from the case in time for the robe parting, the sudden onslaught of skin, tits and stomach and legs, fuck. They've gone still while they stare at her, which is undoubtedly exactly what she wants them to be doing, but they don't have it in them to be contrary right now, not even on purpose, not when she's being hot on purpose to mess with them.

Fucking. Tyrant.)

Why?

(They don't look back down at the knife.

Her smile is so sharp and nice. Knowing. She looks smug. Secretly they like this expression on her best of all.) What do you have left to do with it?

[overts]

[ Her smile turns predatory; she knows the effect she has on them. They might be extremely annoying to rear sometimes, but the simple things never fail.

Their attention caught, Tyrant slides a hand between her breasts, distracted (or is she?), stopping at the edge her panties. ]

What is a knife for, Sal? There's a few people I need to plunge it and shake it a few times.

[ She's still smiling, but it's distant now, preformative. ]

Now, are you going to help me squeeze into this thing? Or you could take yours off and we could play dress up, I've got a bunch of stuff that would look good on you.