On Your Doorstep

[meme_maid]

On Your Doorstep

They ended up on your doorstep, quite literally. Bloody, possibly. Bruised, most definitely, though the wounds may be mental. You probably don't know them from Adam, yet you couldn't find it in you to turn them away - whether they wanted you to or not. So you opened up your home, just for a little while.

But it's getting to be more than a little while. Both of you are finding a comfort zone, because you didn't simply open up your home. Admit it or don't, but you've opened up your heart all the same.

Their's is slowly following, if its reluctant at all. Could this be...love?

1. Comment with your character, preferences, & what role you'd like to play.

2. Tag others.

3. Thread

Comments

Brady Truebridge | Filthy Rich | ota, gen only

[thirdrichest]

[/aggressively mothers at]

EOBARD!WELLS | THE FLASH | OTA

[practicerestraint]

[ ooc: you're on his doorstep, bloody and bruised. ]

Grace Ford | OC

[barre_none]

[Either role!]

Mitsunari Ishida | Sengoku Basara | ota

[upadly_aniol]

[Either role.]

Duela Dent | DC | ota

[fiftytworeasons]

(Probably the one on the doorstep, what with her universe hopping.)

Rey | SW:TFA | OTA

[thesefirststeps]

[ooc: Either / or.]

Kiriko Shijima - Kamen Rider Drive - Open to Anyone

[drivesshotgun]

((It's more likely to be her doorstep that you've landed at. As long as you're not an immediate threat, she'll take you in.))

Eugene Sledge | The Pacific

[dungarees]

[Either role.]

John Watson | BBC Sherlock | m/m

[captainwatson]

[desecrated]

John has been missing and he's been practically beside himself, jumping at odd things, unable to sleep.

There's a squeal of brakes, a thud, the slam of a door. Right outside the doorstep. He expects a knock or the annoying ring of the bell. But there is none. It's so odd. He yanks the door open.

S'chn T'gai Spock | AOS | M/M

[logicabounds]

[Can do either role, but I have a prompt prepared to take the 'on the doorstep' role, if needed]

[cryfrustration]

[OOC: Would you be up for dropping Spock into a world with magic/magitech but not much straightforward technology? I'd usually jump in and write a starter, but you mention having something ready.]

Re: Bruce Banner | MCU | OTA

[aggravated]

[Quite happy to cross-canon, not looking for smut. Easily could be either side of that door.]

Eve Baird | The Librarians | OTA

[mamabaird]

Aelin Galathynius | Throne of Glass | OTA

[ashryvereyes]

[AUs and cross-canon are more than welcome.]

Eames | Inception | M/M

[eameswearssalmon]

Eames never anticipates everything going south, he's supposed to be smarter than that. Everything was great up until the moment they finished the job, then angry Russian mobsters showed up out of nowhere with big guns and started chasing them down. He sees people being gunned down and doesn't think, just ducks and gets out of there as fast as he can. He registers being hit, and doesn't stop except to press a hand to the wound.

Thanks to his generally paranoid nature, he has some cash and a few good IDs on him, and as soon as he's stopped bleeding profusely and stolen a shirt from a roadside stall, Eames gets himself on a plane and knocks himself out with miniature liquors and the strongest painkillers he can find. They'll be after him, in his current state Eames is not exactly being subtle and covering up his tracks well. But he's smart enough to take a few detours, and goes the last leg of the journey on a long distance bus from hell.

Eames stumbles his way up a hill to a quiet neighbourhood in San Francisco, breathing a sigh of relief when someone lets him into the building on their way out. A quick glance at the mailboxes lets him know the unit he's looking for, and then Eames is knocking on a suspiciously sturdy wooden door.

"Darling, it's me."

Re: Eames | Inception | M/M

[a_little_specificity]

[Assuming this isn't locked to a specific person since there's no note of that.]

He'd been expecting Eames since he'd heard about the job going south and he always heard. It paid to have the kind of contacts Arthut did, after all and the greeting gets the barest roll of his eyes.

"You should really do a better job of vetting the people you work with before you actually do get yourself killed on a job."

[briefed]

It isn't so strange for Eames to go off the grid. Arthur doesn't even think much of it until bodies start cropping up, identified in at least three different languages within the hour. There's no mention of Eames, which is both a blessing and a curse, and it keeps his attention rapt. Those counted among the dead aren't the best in their field by far, but Arthur's worked with a few of them before, too. Their profession isn't known for lending to long lifespans.

Eames is good at his job, maybe too good. When he's off the grid, he's nearly impossible to pinpoint, courtesy of a distinct lack of mistakes. He isn't as sloppy as he might project and Arthur is largely thankful for that.

The knock on his door has Arthur's gaze snapping to it, his pacing stilling immediately. He lives on a quiet neighborhood and hardly, if ever, gets visitors. It isn't for lack of social interaction, but more by precise choice. There's very little in Arthur's life that isn't dictated by a sharp sense of control, his life in San Francisco and his spartan apartment included.

But the moment Eames calls out, he's moving to the door to open it without so much as a thought or a glance at the security panel installed on the wall next to it. It's the sight he's met with that has his jaw tightening as he pulls the door open further. He doesn't spare much care for how untidy his own appearance is, what with just a stark white undershirt pulled loose from well tailored trousers, his feet bare. It's the least of his concerns.

"Get in here and sit down on the couch while I get the first aid kit." Because Arthur knows full well from Eames' choice in safe havens and pallor alone that he isn't okay. He just doesn't know how not okay he really is.

Bruce Banner | MCU

[tiptoeing]

[Either role.]

[wipedclean]

[He doesn't remember anything, but he knows this door. He doesn't know how, he doesn't know why, but he knows it. That's why he's here.

Unless it's a mission.

But it doesn't feel like a mission.

He blinks, as if he's just woken up, and in many ways, he has. He looks down at himself. He's covered in blood, but he knows instantly it's not his. He's holding a knife. He has no other weapons. He's dressed simply, in layers, with a hat. He was... on the run?

He can't remember.

His head hurts.

He puts his hand on the door, as if to knock, but stops, hesitates, doesn't know if he should, or if he should leave. Find a safe place. Go to ground until he can remember what happened, who he is.

But everything in him is telling him this is a safe place. So he knocks.]

[avengeme]

[It causes a bit of an uproar when Bruce Banner shows up at their doorstep. For one thing, it's a huge security breach. And for another, it's a huge security risk.

Coulson breaks through the hubbab to finally see the scientist once he's been situated in one of the white holding rooms designed to be as non-threatening as possible.]

Hey.

[he says through the intercom, looking at Bruce from behind the glass of the containment unit that also serves as a barrier]

Bucky Barnes | MCU

[fridging]

[the winter hobo is on your doorstep]

[fiteme]

[It's winter now, and Steve is layered up as much as he can be while still being comfortable in his own home. Big fluffy sweater, several sizes too big and hanging over his hands, warm socks, flannel pants. It's not that it's that cold in his apartment, but he feels the cold more keenly as a small skinny thing than he did as big strong Captain America.

There's a knock at the door, and Steve sets his sketchbook down next to his mug of tea and untangles himself from his blanket to go answer it. He peeks through the peephole first, because, well, he's still in with SHIELD to a certain degree, even if he's not the big man in charge like he used to be.

It's Bucky outside.

Steve immediately unlocks the door and swings it open wide.]

Buck, hey... what's... what's wrong? What happened?

sam wilson | mcu | ota

[wingedman]

[it's his doorstep. are you going to make him fix breakfast?]

[tiptoeing]

[Bruce won't make him fix breakfast, he doesn't even know that's Sam's specialty. He's never actually met him, seeing him at a party doesn't count. He's not even looking for him, specifically, just stumbling about Wakanda trying to find someone who will give him a shirt and a pair of pants that aren't shredded.

He knocks on Sam's door, hoping someone's home.]

Luvander | The Volstovic Cycle | OTA

[theveilisin]

[M/M for shipping.]

[lacunate]

The grand adventure was over, though things still needed sorting out and would for days and weeks, but all the right people were out of prison and th'Esarina seemed to have things well in hand. Ghislain, having nowhere else to deposit Raphael, had simply talen his back to Luvander's hat shop.

A hat shop. It was bewildering and yet very much Luvander.

Raphael sat gingerly in his chair, sipping at his cup of tea, feeling all out of sorts but mostly exhausted and very sore. Being dragged all over creation meant his back and hips were killing him: he was glad to sit down because he wasn't sure his legs would have held out much longer. He wasn't entirely sure what was wrong, having not seen a healer or a medic who spoke proper Volstovic, but the injuries from the flnal flight had never seemed to quite go away. Well-rested, yes, there was no pain, as long as he didn't do much, but overextertion brought on shooting pains and a tendency for his legs to go out from under him.

Right now he wasn't dwelling much on the pain. He was far too tired.