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[villainesstm]

ooc tags pt. 1 !

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[aventvrina]

songbird #12 - achilles come down featuring Sunday (@halothes) & Aventurine

summary: in the midst of nothingness, madness and harmony, aventurine sees the person who's responsible for it all.

"You crave the applause yet hate the attention, then miss it, your act is a ruse. It is empty Achilles, so end it all now. It's a pointless resistance for you."

'We've got to make good use of death.'

Such were the words he told Ratio before walking to his execution and such was the truth even if masked in deceit. The near omnipresent gaze was meant to hinder their plan as it should be impossible to lie under such circumstances. With every move read and every word analyzed the slightest misstep could be fatal but Aventurine is used to this pressure. After all poker had always been his favorite game.

The confident smile speaks of coercion, an early silencing of the dove that could shatter a million hearts across the universe but none would bleed harder than that of her brother. Tied to the altar as he was, it was impossible to move without stirring the delicate strings of the knot that held Penacony together.

How fortunate of him that Aventurine was there to hold his hand. A faithful servant who had offered himself so graciously, forfeiting his own freedom and power to Sunday as promise of his unwavering loyalty. He was to uncover the truth in his name, perhaps even bring the criminal to his trial, standing shoulder to shoulder with the head of the family as the sinner is sentenced for the murder.

Too bad The Family is not fond of games of deception.

With the barrier broken between the layers, Nihility and Harmony bleed into each other in a slow dance. The fissure reveals a hidden world submerged in slumber, far too big to be ignored but small enough to be temporarily contained. And although Aventurine should be walking beyond the barrier, he finds that there's still some defiant interference in his way.

He should not be seeing Sunday in front of him right now.

'This is all but a fleeting dream.'

They stand on what could be described as a roof top, the black waters gently dismantling the building from beneath but never quite allowing it sink. A silent devouring that should cease as the knot begins to mend itself whole again. But for now, IX remains in the horizon, uncaring of his travel to it's immense shadow and oblivious to the grappling resistant pull of The Harmony.

Sunday's hand is extended, expectant.

"Is this your last effort to keep me?" He can't help but to laugh. The trial should be over and the Harmony's connection severed from him. Whoever, Whatever he's seeing right now is not Sunday, but they managed to make him stop nonetheless.

'Do you love your family more than yourself? '

There is an underlying rage as he recalls the question. To force him to admit such truths to be used as punishment on him was foul. Even after decades of having his origins held against him by everyone he comes across, none hit quite as hard as having the fictitious promise of being reunited with his family again.

A new beginning, free from pain and eternally happy under the merry tune of the harmonious orchestra. It's disgusting. A laughably terrible joke.

Perhaps this is how they attempt to lure him back. If not by love then at least by hate. Surely he wouldn't pass the chance to have one last shot at winning his trial. They studied him so well, they gave his younger self the perfect day of a lifetime, his future a mocking smile that insults him from even daring to fight back, and his present. He was made captive in the dream, isolated from everything and everyone he has come know and forced to walk the Golden Hour in excruciating torturous pain under the guise of investigation. All the while he gave his cornerstone to whoever would accept, the broken aventurines are to spread fortune and wealth to those who need it most.

Such a magnanimous selfless act. He can't believe they fell for it.

The etched marble like smile remains ever so gentle as he approaches. Immaculate gaze elated as if the pain he has gone through was well earned and washed whatever crimes he had committed. All that is left is to do is take the hand and he is forgiven.

Aventurine finds that divinity and economy act the same way. They think themselves superior and justified as they bring ruin for those who swear to their name. Calling mercy to their guiding hand, promising sweet nothings that wouldn't be real had they not destroyed everything beforehand. But the worst of it all, is their self entitlement to punish those who do not comply.

Gaiathra Triclops punishes him for being born. The IPC punishes him for surviving. Sunday punishes him for doing his job.

The only difference is that Sunday is tangible, even if not quite at the moment.

"What a miserable move." He takes the waiting hand and guides it to his waist, letting it rest securely behind him as he crowds the figure. " You should never gamble, your bluff is terrible."

He really shouldn't be entertaining this but Aventurine doesn't know when to quit. Doesn't realize where the edge of the building and the sea of abyss is and how close to danger he truly is. He just keeps walking, guiding the ethereal figure in an embrace towards their destiny. And just as he has continuously done since he set foot in Penacony, he takes a gamble.

"Don't worry." His cynical smile doesn't match his gestures. Caring hands cradle the unmarred face, fingers webbing through soft feathery locks as he lures Sunday ever so close.

He's uncannily surreal, the precious gold doesn't shine in reaction, in fact, he continues to maintain the image of a merciful saint who knows of his past sins and has absolved them. It's a pity he can't have the satisfaction of seeing real fear in such a perfect face.

"I am still on your side." There's some honesty to every lie but the betraying kiss should be for the real one and not for this joke of a fabrication.

With a step back he jumps and then all is black.

[strictlyoc]

[ ♠ ]

This has been bugging Jace for a while. He really liked Emma, but he had no idea how to pursue her. He couldn't go to his own father about this. His uncle Aaron is dead and so is his mother. The only solid role model he had was Bobby. So he was standing on the man's porch, knocking on the door.

"Bobby? Are you here?"

@amongxthexcrowd

[requiemofrebellion]

@grislyintentions ― * ― graveyard based sentence starters.

“ the chain was already off the gate, i’d say we’re fine.” -kafka to blade

The night air was a welcome to the tall, silent man. The trees softly rustled in the wind, the moon barely visible due to clouds moving in on it. The iron gates in front of him and Kafka, the chain that Kafka spoke of, indeed not around the iron bars nor anywhere to be seen. As if either someone took it and was already inside or someone forgot to lock up properly. Blade was going to go with the latter and say people were idiots and forgot how to do their job properly. 

“ Hm. ” He replied, eyes looking over to her. “ If anyone is inside, do you wish for me to kill them? ” He questioned, crossing his arms over his chest.

[shadowqueens]

[link] from flare ;)

non verbal prompts

cities were something she will never truly get used to, though she's lived in and out of them for years at one point in her life. the seclusion of raven tail was something she enjoyed about the location of the guild. it had a lot more benefits than cons for zilla. though there were pros to cities, the amount of people in them was certainty not one.

her and flare were having a 'shopping trip' today, just the two of them. zilla stressed about it a lot the night before and early this morning. mainly about her mask situation. she didn't know which one to wear and so she wore none. and now her naked face was out and about. the makeup helped her feel better, even if it wasn't much with her lack of skill (and ivan never learned how to do makeup either, so he was useless for help).

flare was very nice about it, which was always great to hear from flare. she was fashionable and very pretty — she knew things. flare even complimented her and zilla hoped the blush wasn't too obvious before they left.

the familiar warmth of flare wrapped around her and zilla looked to the side to see flare smiling at her. it was a blinding smile, filled with the light of a thousand suns and made zilla's heart quicken. it said: 'i want to be closer' & 'i'm happy to be here' & 'i feel safe with you'. messages that made zilla's heart dance in the shadows of her chest.

zilla swallowed the sudden dryness in her mouth and offered, what she hoped, was a warm smile and not a grimace. zilla was not good at being warm, no, she was much better at basking in it selfishly. she tightened her arm closer, bringing flare closer.

cities weren't so bad.

[reel-to-real-emporium]

[fzrticv]

@hellcab : ❛  why would i lie to you?  ❜

" Why would you tell me the truth " The jester shrugged, the grin never leaving their face, even if it certainly wasn't a pleased or happy one.

" That just it, isn't it? You neither have a reason to lie to me .. but you have just as less of a reason to tell me the truth either. " there was a head tilt " OH wait, you actually DO have a reason haha ! Making a easy penny hm~?"

Also, why should a hellborn trust a sinner? Certainly not.

[plaguefated]

❛   the dead have it easy.  ❜   / julian!

QUOTES THAT BROKE ME - accepting // @dangaer ♠

❝ Now that's something we both know intimately, isn't it ? ❞

She can't help the venom that drips from her tongue as she speaks. They have both tasted death they both have been wrapped within its icy clutches. She should be grateful to have someone in her life such as Julian; there are few others that know what it is to have their life ripped from them. Asthora knows she is being CRUEL, but her anger haunts her like a bad dream.

Why did he let her die ?

[ofphyrric]

@noctemes @ofcommonrooms

DO REVENGE (2022) dir. Jennifer Kaytin Robinson

[howdyneighborr]

Tweek: ’ How many next times are there gonna be? ’ (for kenny and/or clyde >:) )

@troublcmakcrs

The two men—the intended targets of the singular question—stood and sat, respectively; juxtaposed in their expression of guilt. Or, lack thereof.

Clyde posed coolly against the framed entrance of their tiny kitchen. He put all his effort into concentrating on the small bubbles under the white paint haphazardly slathered over the cheap wood across from him. Directly in his eye-line, the tiny imperfections diverted and distracted his attention. If his arms hadn't been folded across his chest, shielding himself as Tweek began to tear into Kenny's hide, he might have absently picked and peeled the decrepit Landlord's Special paint job. After all, he didn't really have to be here. Kenny needed the intervention. Clyde only contributed to his share of rent. And was banging them both. But other than that, he felt no responsibility for the opening of Pandora's box. He avoided eye contact with his seated partner, and he could feel Kenny doing the same. Clyde half-expected, if he were to steal a glance at Kenny, to see cartoonish lines of tension drawn over his hanging head. The standing brunette refused to believe he had any part in this other than being an observer. He would deny all allegations as an enabler—as he always had, anyway. He kept his mouth shut and stayed a safe distance as the squabble roiled to a head.

Kenny leaned forward over his knees, feeling small and sick. He sat curled around himself until he could bear to raise his chin. When the wave of guilt-induced nausea ebbed, the skinny blonde rested the point of his jaw in his hands and stared up from the couch at Tweek. He wanted to chuck a pillow, stuffed with blame and accusation, across the room at the good-for-nothing bartender. Even still, when the thought formed in his head, he regretted feeling that way towards the other man. Ken knew the responsibility lay mostly on his own shoulders. Not throwing Clyde under the bus or even turning to face him for backup took every bit of Kenny's resolve. He knew the other man would male a slick remark and weasel his way out of the room  Kenny was surprised he hadn't made an escape already. He knew Clyde would slough off the accountability regardless. He also knew the time for making excuses had passed and he should start fixing his mistakes. Clyde could do whatever the fuck he wanted. Treat Tweek, treat him, the way he wanted. He would only have himself to blame when he had to sleep on the couch. Or with whoever would take him in. Clyde could make his own bed, but Kenny– He was tired of coming home, or waking up, or getting a text from a disappointed Tweek. 

That amalgam of factors ultimately stopped him from casting his sad, blue plea for help in Clyde's direction; Kenny knew he would find no comfort. And that was okay. He was an adult, not a giant man-child like Clyde. Okay, now that thought felt good. Albeit a bit internally vindicated, Kenny couldn’t shake feeling like a piece of shit, but weren't they both? Wasn't that what else had caused this? No one owning up to their own bullshit, history dooming itself to be repeated? With a whump and a sigh, his back hit the sofa cushions and his legs extended in Tweek's direction; an invitation and the very picture of man-spread. Wallowing wouldn’t un-fuck or un-drink anything. With a puckish grin, the lounging blonde was the first to respond.

“Can you be a little more clear about which specific fuck-up you're pissed about right now? I’ve kind of done a lot of shit lately…”

[jojolovenotes]

Hi I hope your having a lovely day

I wanted to request a platonic letter from abachhio or fugo

I recently had to drop a police class I was taking due to the effect It had on me mentally :,( and I just need the comfort. If you don't want to write it I understand:)) thank you for taking time reading this! ~ ♠︎★

Hey, 

Try not to be too hard on yourself for having to drop a class. It’s alright. If it was causing a certain effect on you, it’s alright to take care of yourself and do what’s best for you. There’s nothing wrong with that. After all there are several different types of classes for you to figure out which subjects are the best for you to learn. Just know that you did what’s best for you, and I’m proud of you for doing that. Give yourself credit for getting yourself out of a class that was having an effect on you like that. It’s important to know when to step back, and you did great for doing that. Be kind to yourself, alright?

You’re doing amazing,

Abbacchio 

[aventvrina]

@halothes

-continuing from here ;

"I will persist."

A smile blooms without restraint, for once it is genuine. But how could he contain himself when Sunday keeps meeting his expectations. He's glad he's not broken. Lesser men would tumble and weep for their hard work crumbling, for their backs stabbed harshly to hide the truth, for their lives shaped in falsehood to be crushed by reality. He's glad they're of the same cloth, unwavering, unbending, in spite of it all, persevering. Maybe Sunday would fit with the Preservation, a senseless thought but one he still entertains. The halovian has the look of a misplaced ghost, a soul haunting the wrong body waiting for the time he can be released from the flesh. Being denied the entry to the dreampool must be weighting on him heavily. It's amusing to witness.

"Don't fret, luck may still be on your side." The Family isn't as harsh as the IPC, even with Sunday being the scapegoat, the chances of him just getting a slap on the wrist due to Robin and the Nameless intervention are so high, he hardly figures the notion of the opposite. But he can understand the thought, after all, Sunday's the one who grew up in such an environment. A false, idealized one, but still the very thing that shaped him to be what is today. Like a baby dove, he's still opening his eyes anew, only gazing at the world from the nest. Eventually, he hopes, he'll take flight.

"You're not wrong for wanting change." It's the most innate thing to humanity, to be restless, to be unsatisfied, to be hungry. The never ending urge to move forward, destroying the past if needed, using it's ruins to take a step higher than before. Sunday is no different, despite his role in the game, his aspirations are just the same as everyone, it's just his sight that is shorter.

"But you're changing the wrong thing." He glances at his wristwatch. Aventurine's not about to start an argument when his own time is so severely counted. Perhaps he should request some days off after the dust settles, there's still quite a hurdle before it happens, but having future plans is what solidifies his will. Just like Sunday, against all odds, he too will persist.

"Unfortunately my time is up." The Ranger should be almost figuring out where he went, although he had promised cooperation, disappearing momentarily isn't going to win him any favors, he still needs Boothill manageable even if for that he'll have to take the gun aimed to his head. He gets up slowly, fixing whatever folds and dents might have happened with this little stunt. He is somewhat stalling, almost reluctant to admit that he'd rather indulge in whatever cheap conversation they're having than returning to the status quo. But then again when will it be the next time he'll have the chance to play with a kindred soul. One who's just about to get his footing.

He's already by the door when he pauses. There's nothing owed between them, nothing left to be repaid, but still, he can give the other one last piece of advise.

"What you seek is not there. A fake world can only give fake answers." Try as he might, Sunday would have never gotten what he wanted in the end. Delusions do not make truth, and sweet dreams are meant to be just that, dreams. To be born, to live and to die under eternal ecstasy, is more hellish than existence itself. But who is he to tell him that, this is something Sunday has to learn by himself. What happens afterwards, well, that Aventurine is also trying to figure out.

"When you're ready to stop burying your head in the sand, call me." It wouldn't be him if he didn't throw one last gamble. For all he knows this could very much be the last time they interact. Even if by a sheer miracle Penacony retains it's status and all bad blood is washed between them, there's still nothing that would warrant them meeting again. Aventurine has his path, death awaits him with each step, one he is carefully nursing to greet him only at the right time. There's still so much he has to do. Sunday on the other hand, may as well be free, and if he were him, no, if he could wish something for him, he wouldn't want him to walk with the same person responsible for his downfall. Such a curse should only be for those blessed by destiny, those who can afford to get their hands dirty in the name of something selfish. Yet, he still extends the invite.

"I'm always looking for new friends." And with that, he leaves.

[strictlyoc]

[ ♠ ]

"Oh yeah? Know from experience?"

Her smile caused him to smile, making him realize that Ally was the one for him. The one that he felt his mother would've loved. He chuckled lightly at her next response.

"Mhm. Never know what might happen," The smile returned to his face before continuing. "On a serious note, I've wanted to tell you this for a while now, so I think my mother would've loved you."

• • Alexis • •

"Well, only a little. But he's cute when he acts jealous."

She chuckled lightly as she set her now-finished take-out aside over to the corner of her desk. Ally peered back over to him with a huge adoring smile; she cherished all the time they spent together, even if often it was under the guise of his duty to her father and his 'business'. She longed for the day they didn't have to hide their love.

"I'm lucky you're here to keep me safe."

[strictlyoc]

[ ♠ ]

Jace just looked at the other's hand as they put it out to shake. Their hand looked positively filthy and yet they wanted to shake? Not going to happen. So he looked up at them with a disgusted face.

[requiemofrebellion]

@ofluminance ⸻ STAYING THE NIGHT PROMPTS.

❝  i know this might sound weird but,  do you wanna stay over?  i guess ‘sleepover’ sounds kind of childish but.  i think it’d be nice.  ❞ / takemichi to chifuyu? :)

A sleepover? When was the last time he had a sleepover with a friend? Not since Baji… He shifted where he sat in Takemichi’s room, green eyes on the other male. He wasn’t at all bothered staying the night, Takemichi having a point that it would be nice especially with everything else seeming to go to shit lately. It’s not like he had anything to do at home either so, he gave a nod to him.  

“ Sure man. “ He replied. “ I mean it doesn’t seem that childish to call it a sleepover, that’s what it is right? “ He offered him a smile as he stood up and walked to Takemichi’s closet. He opened the door peeking inside of it. “ But you gotta lend me some clothes, no way am I sleeping in my jeans. “

[reel-to-real-emporium]