Location: Saints and Sinners Party
Closed for: @korainmorrisonââ
Kit is unaware of her missing part until she passes a window and peers at the girl reflected back, one sans wings, prompting her mouth to slip to an involuntary gape; the alcohol she had tipped back that night coaxing her more upset than she ought to be. She turns to her company, digits reaching out to coil around a bicep, a bottom lip jutting out to a pout, and she speaks as though it were a limb: âRain, please tell me youâve seen my wings? They were here,â a chin tilts to peer behind her, âand poof, theyâre gone.âÂ
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stellamcnroeâ:
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đđđđđđ  đđđđđ in stellaâs vision despite the lack of light in the hallway . a little pill long dissolved on her tongue brings forth a different party of its own nature ââââ she welcomes the high , the way it tickles sunkissed skin as a melodic voice fills the hall . stella turns to who it belongs , ruby lips curling into a smile at the description of the homeâs occupants . â maybe if weâre lucky , â she whispers back with an arm interlocking through the fellow brunettes . stella doesnât question the guidance away from the spot as she floats on air now set on a new adventure . though she shifts to lower her hand and lace fingers between the otherâs , two temptations interlocked and weaving their way through the guests celebrating lenâs birthday . â iâll be a little disappointed if we donât at least get some type of show tonight . â
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A moment is all it takes for her heart to plummet to the depths of her stomach, recognition strumming at the sight of the other girl, truly the other girl - the one Kit had watched with envy coating her tongue acidic as Gabeâs hands roamed the girlâs lissome silhouette (in public, without hesitation) with a silken tenderness she had assumed he was not capable of. The girls syllables tug her from the sunken depths of her thoughts, and Kit wished feverishly that her newfound company had been sourness taken ethereal form. âWeâll just have to make sure it happens - we can shove a bunch of them together and hope some confuse it with fate,â itâs an idea sugar-spun, punctuated with a rogue grin at the thought of a game, âwho could play cupid better than a saint and a sinner, anyways?â The mirroring sides of the same coin, the pair bound together by the thread of digits elicit the involuntary twist of necks of those they pass, as though magpies coveting that which gleams. Kit leads them down the length of stairs to the main floor where most of those in attendance loitered, âready to play match maker?â features tilt so her syllables are shared with the raven-haired beauty at her side, though it was unlikely anyone else was listening, or cared enough to. The curve of her chin juts outwards, motioning towards a familiar set of features from across the room, Gabe, unaware, a fetching form of bait, âheâs cute, seems like heâd be into some freaky shit,â liquor bunches her cadence together, illuminates her idea to get to the bottom of what ties he had with the girl at her side as a good one, âsee anyone here to set him up with?â  Â
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Location: Saints and Sinners Party
Closed for: @gabehastingsâ
While she forgets the name of the boy pressing her to the wall shortly after he offers it, she enjoys the rays of his attention nonetheless; against the shell of an ear he calls her an angel, tells her how good sheâll look knowing sin. Irises sweep over the crook of a broad shoulder and stall abruptly on a silhouette she knows best in the dark, and the pace of her pulse lifts to something erratic as he turns. Kit meets a gaze of molten hue and holds it - holds it as a heated mouth of another descends the length of her neck, as digits skim over the bare flesh of her waist. The weight of Gabeâs attention is embers against her skin, and she watches him through heavy lids, amusement tilting her lips to a phantom simper. Â
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Location: Saints and Sinners Party
Closed for: @lucafieraruâ
At some point she is hoisted to a tableâs surface, and so it is there a willowy frame twists to the musicâs pulse; half avoiding the solo cups that litter the surface, some already tipped over and prompting the marble slick. Lashes flutter open and familiarity blooms at the first set of features irises land on: âLuca,â its a saccharine holler, and full lips peel back to a wolfish grin as heat blooms crimson to the curve of cheeks at the sight of him, at the images that briefly muddy her thoughts: the ascent of his touch beneath a sundress, the bend of her silhouette over a counter, how she sends him off with an arrangement for his wife. Kit moves to the tables edge, palms extending to reach towards him, âdance with me!â
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đ¤đ˘đ đŹđĽđ¨đđ§đ đ˘đŹ đ đŹđđ˘đ§đ - almost, not quite. she is lithe limbs scantily clad in lace alone, exposed flesh kissed copper by juneâs rays; gems are pressed to dark tresses and she beams as she insists to any that will listen that theyâre angel tears; the bends of shoulder blades bare the weight of ivory wings; she tips back vodka as though she has one night alone to hide a halo behind her back and know what it is like to sin.Â
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Kitâs lithe form squirms from the swarm of bodies in search of momentary peace, seeking out the confines of a bathroom where sheâd likely forget why she entered at all, instead peering back at the girl in the mirror to the muffled tune of a top forty hit. Digits descend to a handle and she slips in, bringing a duo of tangled bare limbs into swift view. The brunette exits as gracefully as she enters: a stumble, as the crescent of a mouth splits in laughter. âSaints are busy sinning,â mirth sets her aglow within the hallâs dim light as she turns to the other frame seemingly waiting for the bathroom as well. âLetâs find somewhere else,â she leaves no room for the other to decline, hooking their frames together at the elbow. âOne of their neighbours comes in to the shop, and says the people who live here fuck like rabbits. She claims she can see it through her window and has seen them have orgies in the living room,â Kit hiccups, looking over at her newfound company with a beam, âthink thats on the agenda for tonight?â
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op literally could bury me in flowers and i'd thank her but go off i guess
đ¸đ¸đ¸ time for a dirt nap đ¸đ¸đ¸
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op literally looks like they could do tricks on my peen spinnin around like an acrobat and I would clap and clap and beg for more but go off i guess
omg wowÂ
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op literally looks like she would be the girl to be like "babe look at me" but go off i guess
this is so offensive how do i delete @ discord god styleÂ
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op literally about one brain cell away from brain dead but go off i guess
Mood
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go in my inbox and describe me im terms of âop literally ____ but go off i guessâ
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kit sloane + instagram
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laurence-mercerâ:
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Play with me, Laurie. The words sound sweet on her lips, full and pink though her eyes still weep a blinded green when they meet his. She wants a distraction, any body to fall into so that a boy made of copper and clay might catch sight and taste the same bitter envy. Laurence hates to be used but she calls him Laurie and the act becomes only that, his body a ship in the night for soft and pretty things. He smiles down at Kit, meets her eyes and holds that look, accepting with a conspirators charm.Â
âWhen did you learn to stroke a manâs ego like that,â he barks without bite, his hands gliding up the soft of her waist and turning her near. He likes this game, likes angling the lithe frame so that her target of envy sees where Laurieâs fingers drift beneath fabric hems, likes the velvet feel of skin so rarely seen. He leans in where sheâs pulled him, dipping so the curve of his nose hugs her ear. âIs he worth the aggravation?â Teeth nip the bottom of her ear playfully in punctuation, drawing back with a hungry smile.Â
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Ebony tresses graze bare shoulders of honey hue as Kitâs head shakes, the tip of a tongue presses to the back of teeth with an audible tsk, âIâm being honest,â and though itâs a facade they spin to something gilded, his touch coaxes a reaction thatâs genuine: irises gleam like dawn, lids are something heavy. His question nearly tugs her from the satin of desire back to envyâs chartreuse, if not for the contact of canines against flesh. âMaybe,â she looks back to them, then, as though a wound she canât help but prod, watches Gabe tuck a tress behind an ear before she turns back, âmaybe not.â Perhaps it was what she deserved, too: the ease of Sunday mornings, being loved in the light. But grief births something godless, and Kit is enamoured by that which wears night so well, and so her digits lift from the curve of broad shoulders to the thick of a throat, âdo you think heâd mind if you touched me like this?â lips tilt upward at the sight, and a chin lifts so their mouths graze in a manner phantom, âor like this?â Fingers press into the back of his neck, guiding him impossibly closer, âlet me be yours for the night, Laurie. That, heâd hate.â
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laurence-mercerâ:
with KIT SLOANE:
where: full moon party
who: @kitslcane
The party was as successful as Laurie would have expected with Dom behind the wheel. Neon lights painted patterns across the beach sand, pulsing with the thudding bass of Leoâs dance set. Heâd done his fair share of dancing and drinking in turn, stepping in to make a cocktail or two, turning a blonde girl about the beach before stepping away. It was quite the party but Laurieâs eyes wandered easily, looking for a partner that might better entertain.
âThatâs not a look dripping with subtlety, Kit.â He drops the greeting close to her ear, coming behind the florist and her forlorn stare. The target of the brunetteâs glower was tall, lean and lightly banned from Mercyâs, draped like silk over the pretty Stella Monroe. They were a full lipped picture together and, seemingly, the source of Kitâs thinly veiled ire. He has to swallow his laugh at the display, touching her arm instead. âTurn. You donât want them to see you this shade of green, sweetheart.âÂ
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Kit is not unfamiliar with envy, a creature that has grazed the bends of ribs on more than one occasion - in adolescence, as classmates use paper mâchĂŠ to craft gifts for their mothers; in counselling, at those who have confronted their grief; then, as the boy she knows in harsh angles and darkness tucks his claws in for a girl of raven hue. She watches Gabeâs head tip back, his laughter swallowed by the djâs spew and Kit hates how she can only imagine itâs sound, how itâd taste on her tongue. She is a phantom, an afterthought, the girl to be fucked out of sight, and something acrid sprawls to her tongue at the sight of his affection being shown in the light, in a crowd.Â
A familiar lilt elicits a shiver, and molars collect to a clench at the words; had she so easily shrugged on such a role, the girl on the sidelines stewing in jealousy? Like flora to flare, she twists obediently at his syllables, features tilting as she peers up at Laurie, âdonât tell me it was that obvious.â Digits descend to fit between the spaces of his, and sheâs tugging them closer - all it would take is the tilt of a chin, a look over a shoulder, and Gabe would see them tethered together, âplay with me, Laurie,â a lithe form sways to lean into his touch, and a grin curves at the full of her mouth; in the lustre of neon hue, she appears something feline, âyouâd do it better, anyways.â
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VIKA BRONOVA
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Location: Full Moon Party
Closed for: @korainmorrisonâ
Engulfed in the heat of bodies, the seaâs depths are a beckon Kit cannot deny - and thus begins the manoeuvre of a lithe form through the crowd. A set of familiar features has her reaching outward, digits threading as they had so many times prior - âRain,â she grins something luminous, âthe ocean misses us, we have to say hi,â she begins to tug him along, trading a neon glow for stray igneous beams the further they stray from the crowd. A dress is haphazardly shrugged off to pool at the rounds of ankles the moment she nears the water, form left in lace alone, and Kit is a siren returning to seafoam as she peers over a shoulder at her other half, âcome on, Rainy. Iâll make sure nothing takes a bite.â Â
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Location: Full Moon Party
Closed for: @ozvicarioâ
The bar adorning the sand is nearly a nightmare, between the musicâs throb coaxing orders inaudible and tourists elbowing their way through. She asks for something sweet, watches as itâs made and then passed off to another - âI think thatâs mi-â syllables drop off abruptly as recognition strums at the sight of the boy reaching for it: Oz Vicario, in all his glory. For a blinkâs length she is back to the swelter of those two weeks, of bare limbs tangled and the moans that followed - at how they had returned to school that fall and kept her first time a saccharine secret between them. âOz,â the full of her mouth tilts upwards involuntarily, âI didnât know you were still in Costa. Or, are you just here for the party?â
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