#✿ *・ﾟ( ooc ) — ❝ dancing's not a crime unless you do it without me ❞

[glysimachia-blog]

i hate to do this but also don’t feel too bad because my best friends from minnesota are coming to visit this week which means my plans for coming back here have been pushed back. i have outlines and stuff for replies, made new banners and the whole shebang so i’m good to come back, it’s just a matter of sitting down and doing the dang thing. so instead of monday, i’m shooting for next sunday. and if that doesn’t happen, i’ll see y’all in sept., which is also the month i first came up with gaea and came back to tumblr. 

[faunashine-blog]

               Your girl should have been worried about KEEPING AN EYE ON HER STARTER CALL instead of organizing her private server. As it is, here is a brand new OFFICIAL STARTER CALL. I am looking to do PRE-ESTABLISHED things and if I am having a hard time, I will come to you and bounce a few ideas off. These starters will range between 100 - 300 words just to keep it from being overwhelming. LIKE THIS FOR A STARTER.

[blownbybakugou]

I Am The Game

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): 𝚃𝚘𝚖𝚞𝚛�� 𝚂𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚔𝚒 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕣𝕖: Slight angst, Fluff

𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: Shigaraki poisoned Toga, but you made a cure and saved her life. Toga snapped and praised you as her god, then lead you to the league of villains, where Tomura took an interest to your quirk...

Word Count: 2.7k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Blood, attempted murder, mention of actual murder, cussing, mind break (non-sexual), Yandere properties, tooth rotting fluff, aged up/down reader (22), slightly Ooc Toga.

The sound of a steaming kettle is what woke Himiko, her body jerking up from its placement and her eyes flashing across the room. She was startled from her surroundings, to say the least. She was not able to recognize anything around her, then her eyes land on you, a young woman in her early 20s pouring a cup of herbal tea into a mug and treading towards the bed Toga was seated on.

“W-Who are you?” Toga asks, scooting back until she was against the wall behind her. “My name is Y/n. You were betrayed by your leader, and I saved you from your demise.” You spoke strongly. “But why?” Toga softens, her muscles relaxing the slightest bit. “I have a proposal. You being loyal, agile and brave, makes you a worthy companion. And therefore, I would like to ask you if you would join me, be my partner in crime, or whatever you wish to call it”

Your voice was silky and pristine while your expression contradicted what she heard. Your eyes were dull, but she couldn’t exactly tell what they looked like exactly, since they were settled on your lap, and had no emotion in them whatsoever and the rest of your face was soft and glowing with beauty. “You barely know me, how do you know if I am as loyal as you think I am?” Himiko questions, giving a quick grin to show off her sharp canines.

“I have watched you for quite awhile. I knew what was going to come of you, and I felt that I should recruit you as my own, since they didn’t see the potential in you.” You hand her the mug of tea you had poured and look her in the eyes for the first time. Toga was instantly entranced, the color of your eyes flourishing and dancing in her own. “Drink this. It’ll get rid of the headache you have.”

She hadn’t even noticed the pounding in her head until when you mentioned it, but she takes the herbal mix quickly, eager to please you. She gulps it down as fast as she can and sets down the mug with a bright smile. “That was good tea Y/n-Chan! Thank you.” You are taken aback by the sudden change of mood, but make no mistake to question it. Instead, you get up to put the mug in the sink of your apartment.

“So, do you accept my offer?” You query, glancing back at a very giddy Himiko. “Yes! You saved my life, how could I say no?” Her enthusiasm was confusing to you. She is a villain whom found out her own boss backstabbed her, yet she is being so trusting of you. As if you were her mother, or sister.

“Wonderful. We will be moving a lot, and before we start the murderous sprees, I believe a talk with your former boss, is in order.” You state, walking over to her with a smug smile. “Oh my god yes! This is going to be so fun!” Toga beams.

You kicked down the door with a small smirk, looking at all of the people inside and giving them a mock wave. Himiko giggles and leaps over the now broken door sending a deadly glare at Shigaraki, whom was leaned back in a chair nearby. “Hello everyone. This, is a warning. Dishonor has plagued you all, and we’ve come to rip it down. If you do not change your ways of betrayal, I shall send you all to a nightmarish hell, where you all will perish in ways unimaginable. But anyway, this is my partner, Himiko Toga. You may know her?” You send a teasing laugh in the way of Tomura.

“You are weak, especially without someone of her abilities, and you were a fool to try and kill her.” You say, moving up to his face, his scarred, oddly attractive face. He growls, and places his hand firmly on your cheek, waiting for the cries of mercy to begin. Only for you to punch him right in the nose. “What do you think you’re doing, you handsy bastard!” You yell, shaking your hand out.

Shigaraki takes a second to process the event that just played out. You didn’t decay. He touched you, with all 5 fingers, and you didn’t decay. “Who are you? And what the hell is your quirk?” His raspy voice sought out. “None of your damn business”

“Join us. You’re clearly very powerful, and we could use someone like you.” You snap you head to meet his daring orbs and glare him down. “You have nothing for me, therefore, I will not stay.” You try and shake free of his grasp, but his grip only tighten in determination to have you stay. You were the one he was meant to be with. The only one who he couldn’t kill with his deathly touch. He couldn’t lose you like this.

“Let go.” Himiko demands, clasping a knife closely behind her back. “What if I make you a deal? If the girl stays with you, you can both stay in the league. Sounds fair, right?” Shigaraki grins, pulling you into him. “That’s the boss’ choice, not mine. I follow her now.” Himiko snarls. “I shall not stay unless I hear an apology for Himiko.” You sneer, pushing yourself away from him and pulling your hand out of his.

His body jerked at the thought of admitting he was wrong. But you were worth it. You had to be worth it. “I’m sorry, Toga. I thought it would be better for the league, but I was wrong.” He grumbles begrudgingly. Your breath hitched, much like everyone else’s. You hadn’t expected him to actually apologize. You thought he would refuse you, and you and Toga could move on. But no, apparently this guy really didn’t want you to leave.

“Okay then, I suppose we can stay. Are you okay with that Himiko?” You question, looking back at your shocked friend. “Of course boss!” She cheers, giving you a loose hug around the waist. “I’m going to work on something. Toga, I need you with me.” You motion over to a booth with a table that was a bit dusty, but cleared off nonetheless.

The blonde female skipped over to the sitting area as you walked behind her, trying to ignore the scarlet eyes that followed your every movement.

You both sat on the red cushions of the booth seats, and you activate your quirk to begin the creating process. A cyber holographic screen projects out of your eyes and you let it float in the awaiting air as you reach into your backpack for your keyboard and controller.

You set them on the dust covered surface and watch as transparent green strings go to attach into each of the devices you had placed there. “Wow! Your quirk is so cool Y/n-Chan!” Himiko gushes, smiling widely and bouncing in her place.

“Thanks, I suppose. Stand and pose with your knives. Look frightening if you would.” You claim, fingers pressing against the hologram to move the surroundings inside.

Happily, Toga obliges. She puts on a face much like a yandere’s and hovers her knives with one behind her and one in front, seemingly about to strike. “Wonderful.” Your hand mindlessly reaches out to the side, scanning her body all while your other hand typed in code to enter her into your program.

Shigaraki’s vision trained intensely on your abilities, his gaze landing strictly on the translucent green display even when his eyes tried to wander further. What the fuck was your quirk? The question haunted him, he needed to know what power you held that stopped him from disintegrating your body, that let him touch you.

You could easily feel the many observations of the others around you, but you pay it no mind as you program Himiko into your game. Well, many have called it a game, but it is no game. It’s a nightmare no one would ever want to live in, let alone see. You were the one who made it into that, and you were also the one who trapped people inside of it.

You snap out of your thoughts of misery, and continue typing code while letting your scan sweep over every inch of Himiko’s form. She had done many poses for you, and you had implemented twice as many into your data base with only doing some slight editing and Himiko was evidently cheerful about it.

“You can sit back down. I have what I need now.” You say nonchalantly, your gaze not leaving your work. “Okay, got it boss!” She says, seating herself almost immediately. “Would you like to give it a try?” You ask, typing one last line of key into the system before starting and holding the controller out to Toga. “This is gonna be so fun!” She excites, throwing her arms in the air and squealing. If everyone wasn’t looking at you before, they definitely were now.

“Okay, there are 31 enemies in the area, all of which are horrendously terrifying. They plan to kill you in the most awful ways, and if you get trapped I’ll pull you out right away.” You speed through the explanation, trying to be vague about the outcomes and twists so that she could not easily defeat the monsters inside of your game. “Got it boss!” She beams, grabbing the controller and getting sucked into your algorithm.

Shiggy couldn’t believe his eyes. Did Toga just get sucked into a video game? This was his every dream, and he feels the itch to want to talk to you and claim you grow with every passing minute. “Stop being a pussy and go talk to her, Scarface.” He hears a deep voice scoff. “Whatever patchwork” Tomura retorts.

You watched Himiko pass each fictional horror character with flying colors, each one of her tactics more impressive than the last. You were implementing her fighting style into the game while also observing her movements to know when to pull her out of the fake environment.

You were snapped out of focus when you heard Shigaraki seat himself beside you and you lift your head lifting up to give him a daring glare, silently lettting him know to screw off. “I saw your quirk.” He says, pointing to the green panel before you.

“Yeah, And?” You snort, going back to typing away at your keyboard. “I want to play.” He deadpans. “Fuck no. Go away.” You retort, shooing him off. “Why the hell not?” He growls, clenching his fists tightly. “Because you’re a dick, and I don’t like you.” You exclaim.

“You sound like a fucking 5 year old! Just let me play damnit!” He demands, looking at your unaffected expression. “No.” You respond. With Tomura’s distractions, you had completely forgotten about Toga, who was finished with the main course of the levels, and was waiting to be let in.

You use your quirk to let the luscious blonde back into reality, and listen as she gushes over the details of your powerful quirk. Well, that didn’t last long due to her noticing her former boss’ presence. “What are you doing here Shigaraki?” She asks, suspicion lacing her voice.

“I want to play her game.” He states, voice raising ever so slightly. You laugh at his confidence in the matter. “Oh, honey,” You start. “I am the game. And you have to be really special if you want to play me.” You giggle, packing up your stuff and leaving him there with a heavy blush.

ᴀʟʟ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ʙʟᴏᴡɴʙʏʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏᴜ ©

[op-peccatori]

Wicked Eyes & Wicked Hearts | Chrollo Lucilfer (nsfw)

Fandom: Hunter x Hunter 

Pairing: Chrollo Lucilfer/Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Word Count: 8073

Summary: Over the course of your life, you’ve picked up several bad habits you’d be better off without. However, there is one in particular that you just can’t seem to quit–one with wicked eyes and lethal charm. 

a/n: the culmination of months’ worth of absolute, raw THIRST for this sexy asshole. I hate him!!!! I had to get this out of my system so I can go back to writing for my MLQC boys. 

the title is a quest from one of my all-time favourite games-DA: Inquisition. I do not own it, nor do I own Chrollo/Hunter x Hunter.

(warnings/tags under the cut)

Warnings/Tags: explicit sexual content, explicit language, pwp, oral sex (semi-public), vaginal sex, OOC+possessive Chrollo because we’re pretending he has any capacity for love outside the spider, some soft!yandere if you squint, unhealthy relationship, gotta edit this once I’ve apologised to a picture of Kurapika

Dark red swirls in the glass with slow twists of your wrist, your chin resting in the palm of your hand as you sit at the bar. 

The marble-top your elbow rests on is just as ornate as everything else in the ballroom, and as pretty as it all is to look at–you’re bored out of your mind. Clad in soft satin, skin exfoliated and highlighted to perfection, your makeup subtle but precise; this is not how you’d pictured your night going. 

A glance over your shoulder confirms your best friend’s continued safety, although you hadn’t actually come here to guard him. He had enticed you with promises of inexhaustible alcohol, food, and plenty of eye-candy. Your hopes of finding a secret corner with a handsome stranger are dwindling, and there is very little fun to be had alone when your partner in crime has the host of the party wrapped around him. 

A Prince tenth in line to the throne–but royalty nonetheless, a man Stefan seems inexplicably smitten with. You’re currently on royal property, and the experience isn’t as exciting as it should be. This is not somewhere you want to get wasted, which helps you keep one of the promises you’ve made to yourself: that you’ll stop getting inebriated to the point of losing common sense. 

It’s the start of a new year, after all. Or it will be, in about two hours. 

Just as you take another sip, there’s a brush of a hand over your shoulder–your pulse quickens as your breath stutters, and you curse yourself for the hope that blooms in your chest even as you turn around. Soft blue eyes lock with yours, and the butterflies in your stomach die a quick death. 

“Hi, I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been on your own for a while...” You blink up at the blond man, who takes it as an indication to continue. “Would it be safe to assume you aren’t waiting for anybody and ask if I could sit here?” he adds, pointing at the empty seat next to you. 

Are you waiting for someone?

‘No.’

You smile up at him, gesturing for him to take a seat. “I’m ___.” 

“I’m John.” He waves down the bartender. “I’ll have what the lady’s having.” He waits for the drink to be placed in front of him before turning back to you, swivelling in his chair to face you. “So, ___–this might be a little straightforward, but how is it that a lady as beautiful as you are all alone?”

His words would have been annoying, had they not been said with complete sincerity and a touch of bafflement. He appears to be in his early thirties, garbed in an immaculate white suit, his hair coiffed neatly.

“I did come here with a friend, actually. But he’s a little,” you punctuate your next words with a nod at the couple grinding on the dance floor, completely offbeat to the pop song playing in the background. “Pre-occupied. Can’t hold it against him, though.” 

“They do look rather smitten with each other,” he agrees, his eyes crinkling with amusement. 

“What about you? No hot date for NYE?” The man looks like he could be on the cover of a fashion magazine, and you can already see a few pairs of envious eyes trained on the two you. 

It’s then that he wiggles his hand, a silver band glinting from around his finger. “My date’s out of the country, on business. I work with the Prince, so I figured I might as well skip the moping tonight.” 

Something unwinds in your chest, even though you should be at least a little disappointed. “Crying yourself to sleep wouldn’t be a great start to the year, huh?“ 

“Hey, I don’t do that every day,” he says, mock outrage colouring his tone. “And no, it wouldn’t be–according to my wife.” 

“Well, then, if it’s decent company you’re looking for, I’ll try my best,” you say seriously, your lips curling up when he laughs. “We’ll need to make sure you’re far from tearful when you talk to her.”

“I’d be grateful if you could manage that. Wouldn’t be easy, this is the first time we’re not together in about five years,” he sighs, morose, before at straightening back up. “You didn’t fully answer my question, though.”

“Hm?” 

“You can’t tell me you haven’t seen the boys hovering, hoping for a glance. Have none of them managed to catch your eye?” 

You’re a bit taken aback by the question, as John looks genuinely invested in your answer.

“Um, no. Not really.“ Your heart squeezes pathetically within its cage and you hope it doesn’t show on your face.

“What about the redhead by the window? I’ve met him a few times, he seems like a decent fellow.” You both look over your shoulders simultaneously, studying the man in question. He notices right away, perking up, and you both turn back to the bar.

You squint at him suspiciously. “John, are you trying to play wingman?”

“I’m just a sucker for romance. And you looked lonely,” he shrugs, unfazed by your offended look. “Unless you’re just not interested in that.” 

You pause to take another sip, weighing your words in your head. You wonder what you should say, and if there is even anything to say. John, however, seems to have found something in your expression, nodding swiftly. 

“Ah. I see.” 

“You do?” 

“Yep,” he affirms, studying your face as if he’s discovered a crucial clue. “There is someone.” 

You avert your eyes uncomfortably, suppressing the urge to slump over. “No, there isn’t...not exactly.” 

“Whoever he is, he’s an idiot for not being here with you tonight.” 

“I couldn’t exactly ask him,” you laugh, genuinely amused by the thought. “We’re not like that.” 

John shakes his head, reaching out to pat the back of your hand. “You don’t have to talk about it if it troubles you.” 

“I don’t think there is anything to talk about,” you say nonchalantly, but John doesn’t seem to buy it. He smiles gently, waving down the bartender for refills.

“You know, ___, you have very expressive eyes.” 

You can’t quite bring yourself to say anything to that. 

“And if he can’t see what I, a near stranger, can see in your eyes–then my point stands. He’s an idiot.” 

With that, you seem to have made a new friend. It’s the first time you’ve even hinted at your secret heartache to someone besides Stefan. It’s ridiculous, really, but it’s your reality. One that you can’t seem to escape no matter how hard you try. 

When John asks if you want to dance, you agree, all too eager to escape the jumbled mess of your thoughts. He’s a good partner, if a bit clumsy. His wife is the one who usually leads, he tells you. You’re amused by how often he seems to bring up his wife, but it’s quite endearing. His love for her oozes from his tone, his eyes, his words and you can only wonder if you will ever get to experience this. 

John twirls you around the marbled floor with a lot of enthusiasm, drawing high-pitched giggles from you and exasperated looks from those around you. And so you’re confused when, just as he begins to send you spinning once more, his eyes move to a point over your head, perplexity bleeding into his expression. You only get a glimpse of it before you’re spinning–only for John’s grip on your hand to slip away as you’re spin right into another figure. 

The subtle tones of leather and coffee hit your senses and your heart stumbles at the familiar combination. Your eyes rove over the sleek black suit, the white shirt stretching over lean muscles, the hands resting on your waist, holding you in place. Your eyes fly up before you finish processing all of this, and this time, when clever grey eyes meet yours, your heart flutters hopelessly. 

“Chrollo.” 

“___,” he greets you with a smile that borders on flirtatious, unfairly thick lashes lowering slightly as he takes in your attire. The one habit you haven’t been able to quit, pulling you closer, brushing his lips over the shell of your ear. “You look beautiful.” 

Your face feels warm, yet you try for indifference despite it. You glance back at John, who’s still staring at you with a raised brow, looking a little too interested. “Isn’t this place a little too...low-scale for you?” you say pointedly, looking around to see if any of his friends are here with him. There’s nothing for him to take here, no treasure to steal, as far as you know. Unless...

Alarmed, your eyes fly back to him. He couldn’t be here to kill somebody. 

He looks amused by your words, but when you try to step away his grip only tightens, sending electrifying flutters down your spine. “There’s no need to look so worried. Now,” he begins, looking over your head at John. “Won’t you introduce me to your...friend?” 

It’s the last thing you want to do, but John doesn’t seem to realize that as he steps up to you both with a wide smile. “I’m John.” 

“Chrollo,” he says with a charming grin that only serves to tighten the ball of anxiety and delight in your stomach. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” John says, shaking his hand joyously, before looking back at you. “I guess he’s not an idiot after all, huh?” 

You wish the ground would open up and swallow you, avoiding Chrollo’s eyes when they try to meet yours.

‘John, for the love of all that is holy-please shut up,’ you think hard, staring him at him desperately, hoping he’ll get it. He does seem to understand something, but it’s not what you meant. 

“Well then, I’ll leave ___ in your capable hands, Chrollo,” he chuckles, waggling his brows at you. “Have fun, kiddos.” With that, he leaves you standing in the middle of the crowd with the man you’ve been hoping and dreading to see for months. 

‘Kiddos.’ In any other situation, you would’ve found it hilarious. Said right to his face, you can only hope he’s in a forgiving mood. 

As the music transitions into something gentler, Chrollo pulls you close again. The lights dim as you both sway to the music, and your heart finally settles down. You’re nearly hidden away in the middle of the floor, surrounded by countless dancing partners and friends, but you barely register their presence.

“Your date gave you up faster than I thought he would,” he remarks, his hand shifting on your waist, the other clasping your trembling hand firmly.

“He’s married,” you say flatly. He simply cocks a brow at you, and you nearly marvel at how easy it is to fall back into this. 

“I know.” 

“He’s a friend!” 

“Must be, if you’ve already discussed me with him.” His tone is sly, and your embarrassment makes a swift comeback. 

“Who says I was talking about you?” you say retort, twirling into a spin, only for your voice to die in your throat as it ends with his face close, the tip of your nose brushing his. 

His eyes, previously clear and twinkling, are somehow brighter with something dangerous lurking in their depths.

“He was right, you know,” Chrollo murmurs, his breath mingling with yours. “Your eyes really do give you away.” 

Your heart pounds as you’re spun around, your back pressed into his front, still swaying almost unconsciously. Your body moves with every subtle shift of his, his fingers undulating along your sides almost covetously. Once more, you can only marvel at your overactive imagination as it offers up flashes of your previous encounters involving the infamous spider, and the things you could do if you could just find a quiet place.

“You never said what brought you here,” you say, swallowing heavily when you feel his warm breath on the nape of your neck. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” He turns you back around, and there’s a subtle smile curling along his mouth. “Unless you do think I’m an idiot.” 

Flustered, you look away, but he tugs at your waist until there’s less than an inch between you.

“I have to wonder, though,” he muses, his hand sliding down to rest on the swell of your ass while the other slithers up your back. Your hands brace against his chest lightly. “If you weren’t actually expecting me–who, then, did you doll up for?” 

At this, you sniff delicately, finding your balance and refraining from rolling your eyes. “Do I need to dress up for someone? It’s NYE.” Granted, you had been hoping he would show up, but there is no way in hell you would ever admit that. 

“And here I thought this was all for me,” he sighs, and his tone would have actually led you to believe he was hurt–if not for the way he squeezes your plump rear, and the fact that you do, to a certain extent, know him. 

And so you hesitate, going over words you could and shouldn’t say. 

“That was a little presumptuous, wouldn’t you say?” you tease lightly, glancing up at him before averting your eyes quickly. 

“No, I wouldn’t,” he counters, his smile sharp and knavish. His lips brush your cheek, his next words breathed into your skin. “After all, you’re well aware of how much I love you in satin.” 

Yes, you do.

Your mind, the traitorous thing that it is, stumbles over the ‘I love you’ despite the accompanying words. Even so, you duck your head, aware of how easily he can still read you. 

“I just liked the dress,” you grumble, annoyed by his breathy laugh at your pout. 

“I like it too. Then-“ He’s closer now, his mouth at your ear, your breasts pressing into his chest. “I guess you really liked the gift I sent you too?” 

For a second, you’re unable to comprehend his words. Your mind tries to work through the events of the evening–when, when, when? 

Chrollo, who has by now pulled back to be entertained by your reaction, spots the panic in your eyes at once. “Ah, don’t worry, you didn’t accidentally flash anyone.”

His words are reassuring, and yet there’s a hidden implication in them. “Did you...was it here?” you ask slowly. 

At your question, his gentle smile shifts into something more cunning. “No.” 

You stare at him in mortification. 

“I didn’t actually mean to peek,” he clarifies, making you feel a bit better–and then he continues. “You should’ve drawn the curtains.” You live on the fifteenth floor. “And you looked so sad as you were looking at my gift, I just-“ 

Unable to bring yourself to continue listening, you step away hastily, your fists clenched at his teasing tone. Without waiting for another word, you turn on your heel and exit through the first door you come across. 

The fact of the matter is–you had been sad. You had sat there with that box in your hands for over an hour. Because you missed him. You ached for him, after months of radio silence. You had thought that was it, that it was done because he’d never gone so long without making even a brief appearance to turn your life upside down. 

Because, despite everything–him being who he is, never saying goodbye, just leaving behind cold sheets and a fading scent–he’s carved himself a place in your heart so deeply you’re unsure if you will ever be able to evict him. You’ve certainly tried. 

You’ve stalked your way out of the room to what looks like the poolside; this side of the building is just as grand as the ballroom, with its carefully carved pillars and the shallow pools of water you catch glimpses of through archways, that seem to cover the entirety of one side of the room. 

You don’t feel his presence behind you but you duck behind a wall anyway, coming to face the still water. Your face is still uncomfortably warm, your eyes burning–with tears, with anger, and with the aching vulnerability of being seen through so easily yet again. You’ve experienced his sharp perceptiveness first-hand, but this is the firm time he’s referred to your feelings for him so openly, if indirectly. 

You sense him nearby, shifting to look around the safety of the wall when you feel his hand catching yours from behind you; his arms slide around your waist before you can whirl around, pulling you back into his chest. It leaves you facing the gilded walls instead, the slight chill in the air cut off by the warmth emanating from him. 

It's when you feel his lips on your neck that the fight leaves you, the brief contact frustratingly soothing. "Did I go too far?" 

"Yes."

You feel his mouth curve up, pressed as it is into your skin. "Which part?"

The words bubble at the back of your throat, but you swallow them stubbornly. His thumb rubs small circles over the skin under your breast, sparking every nerve to attention, if he moves his hand just a little–

“It couldn’t have been me watching you dress,” he says casually, sliding his mouth further up and sideways until he’s kissing the tender skin underneath your ear. “That’s something you enjoy, if I recall correctly...” 

Your lips part slightly as he nips at your skin playfully. 

“Chrollo, someone might see us,” you whisper, knowing full well he doesn’t care–and neither do you, not really. He just laughs at your attempt at stilling his wandering hands and mouth.

“No one’s going to be around to see us,” he assures you, teeth grazing the delicate shell of your ear. 

“Ah, but-“ 

“Don’t try to change the subject, ___.” His words are accompanied by a chiding tug at your earlobe. His hand splays at your hip, his mouth returning to peppering soft kisses along the slender slope of your neck.

Your hand settles on top of his, fingers lacing together as your eyes blink shut. His nose burrows briefly into the junction between your neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply. 

“I’ve missed you too, you know,” he purrs, the words coiling around your heart, squeezing it tight. “But it appears I’ve neglected you.” 

“Wh-what?” 

“No? Isn’t that why you tried to fuck that hunter after your last job?” 

Once more, the words are said so nonchalantly that you almost don’t realise what he’s said until you try to turn around and he pins you against the wall instead, using his body to keep you in place as he goes back to mouthing at your skin. 

“How do you-“ know? How the fuck does he know? Your mind spins, your instincts tingling despite his casual tone. 

“It didn’t quite work out, though, did it?” he asks almost sympathetically. “He said you didn’t actually seem that into it. I’m curious–what exactly were you trying to accomplish?” 

“Chrollo,” you ask quietly, trying to keep your voice steady despite your heart thumping its panic throughout your body. “What did you do?” 

“Don’t sound so suspicious, sweetheart.” His hips press into the curve of your ass, and a desperate sort of thrill thrums through you when you feel his bulge against you. “We just had a little chat.” 

He doesn’t say more, his silence expectant now. He’s looking for an answer, you realise, heart sinking at the thought of even hinting at the emotional turmoil you went through when you’d thought he was done with you–after you had told him to never seek you out again, and he had left without protest.

“I thought we were done,” you say in a rush. “That’s why.” 

“Hm.” 

He was gone for months without a word. He’s never said anything to imply that he expects something from you, coming and going as he pleases. This time, you refused to wait for him. You wanted to move on. 

“I didn’t think you’d care,” you say carefully. This could go a number of ways, and you nearly wince imagining the bruising your heart could take from his reply. “Especially after...what I said.” 

His chin falls to rest on your shoulder.

“I understand,” he says. He sounds like it too.

“You...do?“ 

“Of course. I know I’ve been remiss in informing you of certain things. I won’t lie to you–when I found out your eyes have been straying elsewhere, it did hurt.”  His words throw you for a loop, and this is not what you’d thought he’d say. 

“I’m...sorry?” you say hesitantly, turning your head so you could see his expression, to see if he was messing around again. You don’t expect the quiet intensity in his eyes, belying his nonchalant tone entirely. 

“Me too,” he smiles, and it’s not his pretty one. He kisses your cheek softly, keeping his lips pressing into your skin. “But this is one thing you should know about me–I don’t share.” 

You know you’re not at fault, but you feel a kernel of guilt in sprout to life, one you're determined to ignore. 

“I didn’t realise I was yours to share," you say coolly. Or not share, in this case. You say it with the aim of ruffling that cool composure, to find some of the same in yourself. 

He kisses the corner of your mouth tenderly. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. By the time we’re done,” his whispers against your lips, smiling slightly as your eyelashes brush the tops of your cheek. "You'll know exactly who you belong to." His mouth is on yours before you can even open your eyes, working your lips open, stealing your words and your breath in one go. You can't help the soft noise in your throat when his hand comes up to wrap around your neck, squeezing lightly as you nearly melt back into him. 

Every thought of resistance leaves you the moment he licks into your mouth. You suck at his tongue languidly, feeling drunk off the taste of him, your senses filled with his scent. 

It's when his hand sneaks beneath the hem of your dress, caressing the warm flesh of your inner thigh, that raw desire sparks like liquid fire through your veins–it's helped along by his other hand sliding down your chest from the base of your throat to cup the bare flesh of your breast. He breaks the kiss to raise a brow at you, his smooth expression flickering at the sight of the nigh pained look that comes over your face when he tugs roughly at a taut nipple. 

"So you did skip it. Pity, I would've liked to see the full set," Chrollo mumbles almost to himself. "You'll have to show me later." His tongue sweeps into your mouth swiftly, his mouth swallowing your soft moan when you feel him cup your mound. You're grinding into his palm before you even realize it, your body aching to feel him within you after the long absence. A low whine escapes you when he pulls away to turn you around, pushing you back into the wall and sliding the pad of his finger along your clothed entrance. 

Your hands splay across his tensing abdomen, his body belying his tranquil expression as your lips find his pulse point, licking tight swirls over it. You widen your stance, silently begging him to move his fingers, but he seems content to brush them over the damp lace indolently. 

Deciding to take the matter into your hands, you reach for the waistband of his pants, ready to sink to your knees and suck until he gives you what you want. However, your plan is halted before you can even implement it, with Chrollo once again pinning you in place with his body, his hands coming to rest on the wall on either side of your head; his leg slides between your knees, his firm thigh pressing into your dripping heat, applying the delicious sort of pressure you've been dreaming of for weeks. You grind down on it, and he lets you–only for a moment, before a hand to your hip puts a stop to it. 

In the silence, the sound of your heavy breathing is loud. You're dizzy with lust and confusion until you see the insidious smirk tugging at his mouth. Your uncomfortable squirming is also cut off, and you think you might just explode. 

"Chrollo," you plead, desperate to move. You can only imagine how pitiful you look, with the beseeching look in your tearful eyes, and your hands tug at the lapel of his jacket. "Please, please, d-don't..."

"Don't?" he prompts when you trail off, his thigh rubbing into you, birthing relief that withers when he stops right away. You whimper softly, leaning into his touch when his hand cups your cheek. 

"D-don't tease me." Your helpless desire is apparent in your tone, and you spot the satisfied glint in his eyes when he leans in to steal another kiss. 

"Oh, don't make such a cute face, sweetheart," he half-groans, pressing his forehead to yours. "It makes me want to ruin you." He emphasizes his words with a slow slide of his thigh, before stepping away. Every protest dies in your throat when he sinks to his knees before you, calloused palms spreading your legs further as he nearly buries his face in the apex of your thighs. You strain to catch a glimpse of him, your breath robbed from you when you hear him inhale strongly as if enjoying a favourite perfume. He mouths at you through the barrier of your underwear, the heat of his mouth discernible even through it. 

"Fuck, Chrollo," you moan, bucking your hips into his mouth, yelping when he nips at you in reprimand. 

His deft fingers reach behind you, unclasping the panties and sliding them off. You're not at all surprised when he stuffs them into his back pocket, but you’re stunned when he spreads your cunt and drags his tongue along your swollen lips. Your knees start to tremble with every lick, and you're unsure as to how you remain standing when he lifts one of your legs to curl it over his shoulder, his tongue delving deeper through your dripping walls. This time, he doesn't stop you from grinding down; his hands, tight bands on your hips, digging into your skin as they help you undulate over his tongue. 

You try to muffle your moans as best you can, desire and fear coiling together low in your belly–you've known him long enough to be somewhat familiar with his style, and you know how much he enjoys robbing you of that absolute bliss until he's ready to give it to you. And so you roll your hips frantically, angling them just right, hoping you can grab your orgasm before he's done savouring the taste of you. The thought sends a hot jolt through you, drawing your attention to the way he's lapping at your sex with more fervour than you'd thought him capable of. 

Perhaps Chrollo really had missed you.

His tongue drags over your clit and you're so, so close and he knows–he knows, and so he pulls away, leaving you twitching but not daring to tug at his hair insistently, the way you want to. Your dismayed expression seems to provide some measure of amusement–but you’re not fooled even in your disoriented state, noting his blown-out pupils as he licks his lips. There’s a ghost of a smile across them when he rises to his feet to pull you into a kiss, the taste of you on his tongue making your head spin.

"You're a cruel bastard," you breathe. He blinks in slight confusion. Months without him, and he won't even let you come.

"Sorry, what was that?" he asks, tilting his head as if trying to hear better. "You don't want me to fuck you?"

"I want! I want-you."

"Me?" he asks, still feigning obliviousness. “I’m right here.” 

You tug at his tie pitifully. 

"Your hands," you moan softly, nuzzling his jaw cajolingly. "Your mouth. Your cock." He looks thoughtful for a moment, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You wait with bated breath, knowing how much he likes to hear you plead. 

"But sweetheart–do you deserve my cock?"

The words have the same impact as being doused bucket of chilled water. No, you won't get to come right now. 

"I..." His eyes warn you to think carefully. "...No?"

"No? Why is that?"

Your face burns as you look away, unable to believe you have to face these consequences even though you’ve done nothing wrong. Technically, you're a free agent. Chrollo never said a word to imply otherwise, and so you decided to test the waters, just once. To try to escape the web that was Chrollo Lucilfer, to see if you could, because it's not as if he would ever find out. 

You were wrong, and it's come back to bite you in the ass. 

"Because I...tried to...with someone." 

There's absolute silence after you finish your sentence, and you have to wonder if he'll walk away after obtaining that admission. 

"Yes," he begins, a knuckle under your chin tilting your head up. You're struck dumb by the lethal look in his eye as he stares at you. "You were going to let him fuck you." 

"...Yes."

"But you didn't." It's not a question–not the one you know he's about to ask. 

"No, I didn't," you admit, your eyes squeezed shut as something in your chest quivers at the prospect of what's coming.

"Why?"

You don't know what to say. Or rather, you don't know how to tell him why you had run out of that hotel room that night, flashes of him filling your head until you couldn't even look at the other man without cringing. 

"Don't make me repeat myself," he warns, his tone affecting a measure of sternness that contrasts greatly with his previous geniality. 

"I couldn't-" Your eyes still closed in resignation. "Because he wasn't you."

Because despite every effort you’ve put into trying to escape him, he always finds you. And you fall into his arms like the complete fool you that you are, unable to resist him. You crave him when he’s not around. 

Worse still, it’s not just the sex. It hasn’t been for a long time. Not since you first saw him reading by the window, lost in his book, his ridiculous coat gone and his hair falling in messy waves around his face. It had hit you with the force of an enhancer’s punch, filling your heart up and spilling over, and you haven’t been the same ever since. 

“Was that so hard?” he nearly croons, kissing your forehead as if he hadn’t just cornered you into a difficult position. “Look at me, ___.” A peek at his face has your breath catching in your throat at how pleased he looks. It’s in how his smile actually reaches his eyes, for once. The dark delight glittering in them, combined with his straining bulge pressing into your hip threatens to derail your thought process all over again. “You couldn’t fuck him, because he wasn’t me. You understand, don’t you?”

In this, you know you understand more than he probably does. “Yes.”

“Good girl. Let’s go.” 

‘Wait-what?’ 

“Where?” you ask in confusion, stumbling after him as he interlocks your fingers together and pulls you along. Your hotel room is always an option, but that idea is discarded when he tugs you through a hallway you don’t recognize. It doesn’t look like he’s leading you to the exit–you seem to be going deeper into the grand building. “Where are we going?” 

“As tempting as it is, I’d rather not fuck you where somebody would eventually find us,” Chrollo explains, smiling over his shoulder at your baffled expression, his hand squeezing yours. 

In other words, he wants to take his sweet time with you. Lovely thought, but it still doesn’t explain where you’re going. 

“And so...”

“And so I’ve made other arrangements for us. I think you’ll like it.” 

You almost hiss at him to lower his voice, which echoes off the marble floor in the empty hall. But there doesn’t seem to be anyone to hear him, which strikes you as odd–this is a royal figure’s birthday party. There should definitely be more security. 

That’s something Chrollo is clearly not worried about, and you decide you don’t want to know. 

He finally comes to a stop in front of a heavy door of white wood, carved with roses painted a shimmering gold. He pushes it open with no preamble, pulling you in behind him and shutting the door, the click of the lock loud in the large room. Your eyes have nearly adjusted to the dark of the room when he turns the lights on; the lights being crystal candelabras hanging on the walls, which are curved to form a circular room instead of the usual square. 

It’s stunning, from the white wooden dresser to the full-length ornate mirror framed with carved gold roses, but your eyes are drawn back to the main attraction: the king-sized bed with its pretty blue velvet headboard and its pretty blue velvet bedcovers that are thick enough to be called blankets. There are heavy drapes on either side of the bed, and several pillows lining the top of it. 

You’re immediately overcome by the urge to throw yourself on the mattress.

“Chrollo,” you begin, your mouth feeling like cotton. “How did you manage this?” 

He smiles indulgently, stepping behind you to wrap his arms around you, surveying the room with an almost critical eye. “It’s a bit brighter than I would prefer, but...”

But this is exactly the kind of room you would like. And so the fly walks back into the parlour. 

“It’s stunning,” you exclaim, nearly overwhelmed by the delicate beauty surrounding you. “But we’re not supposed to be here, are we?” 

“Depends on who you ask.” He shrugs, toying with the straps of your dress. “And if you ask me–I think I want to fuck you on that bed.” 

A shiver runs down your spine as he tugs the thin straps down, one at a time, pressing his lips to your shoulders. 

“There’s a lovely bath too, but we’ll explore that later,” he continues, pulling at your zipper slowly until it reveals the bare skin of your back, inch by inch. “Do you like it?“ 

“I love it,” you gasp, feeling the cool air on your heated skin as he pulls your dress down until it’s pooled at your feet. You stand, completely exposed to his gaze, embarrassed warmth blooming all over your body. And then his hand is at the small of your back, urging you towards the bed. 

“Ah, forgive me,” he slides his jacket off smoothly, draping it around your shoulders. “I’ll get the fire started. Why don’t you take a seat?”

You do as you’re bid with a pounding heart, watching him stride over to the–you guessed it–marble fireplace. Chrollo’s always been charming, but you’re not sure what to make of this. It’s romantic beyond belief, and something you had never expected from him in a million years. 

You sit on the side of the bed, sniffing discretely at his jacket, stifling a low gasp at his intoxicating scent. As he walks over to stand before you, between your spread thighs, you can’t help but smile as you tilt your head back to look at him and he kisses you deeply. Deft hands slide the jacket off your shoulders, throwing it over the back of an armchair, before reaching for your hair. 

He doesn’t rush; he’s slow, yet gentle as he tugs at the pins keeping your low bun in place, sliding them out carefully until there’s a small pile of them on the bedside table and your hair is spilling over your back. Skilful fingers rub at your scalp, chasing the slight ache away, and you’re nearly overwhelmed by the intimacy of the act. 

He crouches down, reaching for your feet, unbuckling the straps on your heels and sliding them off, taking a moment to rub the soles of your feet. You’re convinced you’re in a dream, or that you’ve died. This is not good for your heart.

“Did I mention you look beautiful?” he half-jokes, looking at you through half-lidded eyes as you reach for the cloth around his forehead, tugging it loose to reveal his tattoo. 

“I think so,” you say casually, but your trembling fingers give you away as you loosen his tie next. “But I won’t stop you if you want to tell me again.” 

He laughs as he stands, the sound coming out huskier than he probably intended as you reach up to unbutton his shirt, trying to keep from rushing; you struggle a little with the buttons on his wrists, but he’s patient as you finally slip it off his arms. You lean in when the pale expanse of his torso is unveiled, pressing your lips to every inch of skin you can reach–soft, open-mouthed kisses that have him stroking your hair in approval. 

You know you don’t imagine the slight hitch in his breath when you reach for the fly of his pants, unzipping him carefully and nuzzling at his straining length through his silk briefs. Your eager mouth traces his bulge until he tugs at your hair lightly, and then you reach for the waistband of his underwear. You don’t look away from his freed cock, your mouth watering at the slight glistening visible at its head. You wait impatiently as he folds his clothes and leaves them on the armchair, knowing his slow movements are in part due to how badly you want to taste him. 

Which is why you take immense pleasure in the way his light chuckle gets cut off when you take the tip of his cock into your mouth, sucking softly, tasting him with your eager tongue. Your moan vibrates around him. It’s not because he tastes good–it’s because it’s so purely him. It sends thrilling flutters through you, and you’re glad you’ve left the shame behind. 

You’re well aware of what it does to Chrollo when he sees the pure bliss on your face as you suck his cock. 

Sure enough, his hand tangles in your hair, flexing and tugging to keep his calm. You appreciate that about him; Chrollo rarely loses his composure. But there are moments, where he just unravels and moans and squirms and you keep those close to your heart, cherishing them deeply. You want to collect more of those tonight. 

Chrollo stops you just as you feel him twitch in your mouth, feeling the telltale tensing of the muscles in his thighs where you caress them lovingly. His grip on your hair tightens until you've let him slip out of your mouth, shifting to lay on your back as he climbs over you, between your legs, ebony strands framing his face haphazardly. You part your legs further in a silent, pleading invitation and his lips twitch as he ducks his head to run his tongue over your nipples instead. His hair tickles your skin as he lavishes your breasts with his attention, any attempts at pulling him closer thwarted by his hands pinning your wrists to the bed.

His hot mouth leaves blushing speckles across your chest, and even as you squirm, you wait. He slides his fingers into you first, and your eyes flutter shut at the nimble fingers moving along your walls, curling and rubbing where it makes you writhe. You whimper in protest when he pulls them out just as your walls start fluttering around them, knowing he won’t make you wait too long. 

Or he might, so the moment he loosens his hold on you, you act–a quick twist of your hips leaves you straddling his hips, leaving trails of ardent kisses across his abdomen, over taut muscles and old scars. His eyes are bright when you straighten to take his cock in your hand, not hesitating even for a second as you lift your hips to bring it to your entrance, sinking down on it with a shuddering breath and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, his fingers digging into your hips as watches your cunt engulf his stiff length, squeezing him tight as if in greeting. “Look at you, always taking my cock so well.“ 

“God, I’ve missed you,” you moan, struggling to stay upright at the feeling of fullness. “You feel so good.” You know he's watching, taking in every single movement–the slow grind of your hips, the swaying of your breasts, willing to let you fuck yourself on his cock to your heart's desire. 

You falter when he begins to thrust up, meeting every roll of your hips with his own, a smile still teasing across his lips as your motions become swifter, your eyes losing focus as you stumble towards that sweet, sweet unravelling. You won't let him snatch it away from you, not again, and you know he will if he sees you waver even a little. 

"Look at me." 

You do, locking eyes with his, the molten grey of his eyes shaking your unsteady heart further. "I-I'm so c-close-"

"Would you like a little help?" He waits for your frantic nod before revving up his thrusts, reaching almost casually for your swollen nub as you bounce wildly on his cock, rubbing it dexterously and propelling you over the edge. It makes you keen, your head thrown back, your walls palpitating–then his arms are around you, your face pressed into the side of his neck as you quiver minutely. 

You come down from the high with soft, dirty whispers in your ear, your breasts pressing into the firm planes of his chest and–you realize with a jolt–his length still hot and hard in you. 

"There we go," he murmurs approvingly as you pull away to look at him. He still looks infuriatingly unruffled, but the evidence of his ardour is straining within you and his fingers still dig into your skin sporadically. It flickers in his eyes, behind his mask of cool composure, almost admiring as he takes in your wrecked state. And so, you wait. "You okay?"

"Mhm." You kiss the palm of his hand as it moves to cup your jaw, earning you an appreciative smile. 

"That was beautiful. Now-" He shifts you off his lap, pulling out without any warning, making you hiss at the sensitivity. “On your hands and knees, sweetheart,” he commands roughly, his palm coming down on your ass in a firm snack, and you scramble to follow it, crawling to the middle of the bed where you wait for him on trembling limbs. You don't have to wait long.

He’s too selfish to deny himself your inviting heat, and you’re proven correct when you feel his swollen head pressing into your slit, pushing through with no resistance. He grinds into you languidly, the palm of a hand sliding down to take a handful of your ass in it, an approving grunt leaving him as you push your hips back into him, moving them in slow, tight circles. 

It’s when you start to whimper his name that he finally pulls out halfway, snapping his hips into yours in a powerful thrust, repeating the motion over and over again until your back arches and you’re half-babbling, half-screaming, nearly incoherent. The sound of his skin slapping against yours is loud, obscene and only adds to your slow descent into madness. It hurts, but you would die before you let him stop.

Then, Chrollo is leaning over you, one arm braced against the bed while the other dances along the length of your spine to curl around your body, his hand catching a swaying breast immediately. He doesn’t stop drilling into you even for a moment, even when your walls clamp down around him the moment you feel his teeth sink into your shoulder. 

“I want you to come around my cock, ___. Will you do that for me?” he rasps against your skin.

“Chro-fuck,” you wail, the scream of his name cut off when his hand wanders down to your sex, his fingers trapping your clit between them. Your climax renders you speechless this time, your eyes glazing over as it crashes against you. His mouth is at your ear, his voice seeming like it’s come from across the room. 

“Such a good girl,” he groans, his thrusts nearly faltering as he feels your heat fluttering madly–but they resume instantly, fucking your through your daze, quickening as he chases his own end. It finds him swiftly, encouraged by your pained moans at how sensitive your sex is. What startles you are his harsh whispers against your skin as his length finally twitches, pulsing within you. “You're so good for me, sweetheart–I’m not giving you up, never-“ 

You squeeze him hard and he curses as your cunt milks every single drop from his slowly softening cock, his fervent words–even if they were said in the throes of passion–sending tendrils of warmth through your chest. 

You struggle to catch your breath as he buries his head in your hair, not pulling out just yet. You’re both then startled when your arms give out, leaving your face buried in the velvet bedspread–and you feel him slip out with a laugh, allowing you to turn until you’re laying on your side, facing him. He runs a hand through his hair, his flushed cheeks belying his level expression. It brings you a secret delight when you see that it extends all the way down to his chest, easily noticeable on his pale skin. You don’t consider it a good fuck unless it leaves Chrollo with rosy cheeks.

You know he’s not big on cuddling, choosing to lay on his side facing you. There is still something deeply intimate about the way he watches you reach your calm, your hair no doubt a mess and your face glowing, unattractively reddened. Chrollo reaches over to sweep your hair away from your face, and you do the same, brushing his damp bangs away from his eyes. 

And then he’s kissing you again, languidly, deeply, as if he’s savouring it. You can’t help but smile into it, your heart feeling full when you feel him mirror it, a soft, contented noise leaving him.

A part of you thinks it’s all for show. The bigger part of you doesn’t care, because it feels so fucking good. Because he’s running his fingers over your skin, pressing kisses lazily. Try as you might, you can't quite keep your eyes open. 

“I’ll go get us some food. Why don’t you take a nap?” he suggests, already moving to follow through. 

"Ah, wait-" you protest, reaching for him, but the words die in your throat. You don't want it to end, not now, but you don't know how to say that–knowing he's probably got bigger, nefarious things to do. Your struggle is futile, because Chrollo reads you easily, shifting you on the bed to pull the bedspread back and over you. "I-you-"

"We've got plenty of time, don't worry," he assures you. "But you'll need some food before we can go play in the bath." 

His sly smile tells you exactly what he means by that. What you interpret from that is that he's not leaving right away. The relief must be clear on your face because he leans in, tilting his head curiously.

"Did you think were done?" He laughs when you look away in embarrassment, trying to duck under the covers. He hugs you through them, tucking your head under his chin. “Already?”

“I didn’t say anything!” Your voice is muffled but he still chuckles at the hint of annoyance in it.

"Oh, no, sweetheart," he coos, lifting the soft cover of your shield and pressing his lips to your temple. "You still have so much more to learn. And I never make the same mistake twice."

[anarchy-lives-eternal]

First of all, I’d like to apologize if you don’t like OOC fanfics or Charlastor fics, please ignore this one if that’s the case! So basically, this is about if Charlie and Alastor had been human and grew up together. This is entirely based on if Alastor was Demiromantic (which actually falls under the Aromantic umbrella) and had fallen in love with Charlie towards the end of their schooling/early adulthood. It is set so that they were born around 1904/1905. But anyways! I’m giving away the whole entire plot! Don’t mind me! Some warnings do include: References to violence/murder, OOC-ness of main characters, and there is some r-rated language. There are almost zero references towards, ahem, adult activities, or even really any kissing. Mostly references cuddles and hugs. Also, if anyone wants to suggest a name for this, please do so. Again, wasting your time! Sorry! Let’s get this show on the road!

A Charlastor AU

Alastor was angry. He was sad. He was grieving. He stood at his wife’s funeral, his smile was in place, but it looked more like a grimace than anything. Her friends and family had come, as well as his.

“She left this world far too early.”

“Taken away before her time.”

“She was far too kind for this world.”

Alastor couldn’t agree more. Charlotte, or Charlie as she preferred, his wife, his confidant, his world, was gone. They had grown up together, even though they came from wildly different backgrounds. His mother had been the Magne family’s head chef, and they had allowed her to bring Alastor along, saying that they had a daughter of the same age, and they could even play together.

Alastor had been a shy child, though, so when he first met Charlie at the tender age of 5, and she had immediately declared him her “bestest friend”, well... he had hid behind his mothers skirts. She had pushed him back out though and urged him to get to know the little heiress, telling him that he couldn’t spend all his time with his mother, and he knew well enough he wasn’t allowed in the kitchens anyways, “Too many knives, dear.”

So, he had been pulled out of the house and into the lavish gardens by the little girl wearing a frilly pink dress, that apparently she hated.

They had spent the entire day and the days to follow together, and when the time came for them to go to school, they both thought that they would be separated, only for Alastor to be invited to attend the school Charlie was going to go to. When he asked his mother, she said that Charlie’s parents had offered the scholarship as a “perk” of working for them. (Later on, Alastor would find out that Charlie’s mother, Lily, had seen the school Alastor would be attending and immediately denied it, saying there was no way any friend of Charlie’s was going to go to such a run down school)

And so the trend continued through their adolescence, until it was time to graduate. By this time, the two were nigh inseparable, and Alastor, despite his best efforts, had fallen in love. It wasn’t until his first broadcast a year and a half later that he finally got the courage to ask her out for a date. And only because he had found out the hard way that Charlie had a jealous streak a mile wide.

Alastor had laughed at his own idiocy, “Darling, why don’t we go out dancing tomorrow night?”

Charlie peeked up at him, her cheeks a rosy hue from her embarrassment, “Like a date?”

Alastor grinned, his chest warm, “Yes, Doll. A real date.”

And the rest was history. At least to the rest of the world.

You see, Charlie was the only person in the world who knew the identity of the New Orleans killer. And not only did she know who he was, but she literally helped him get away with murder. After all, she loved him.

She also created his cause: only ever kill the ones who were dirty. Abusers, rapists, dirty cops and dirtier officials.

She had helped him bury bodies or clean up blood on multiple occasions. She had even acted as a lure for others. She had been the one to come up with the template for his victims when he had admitted to her his desires to hurt others those years ago, “We can’t control your urges, Al, but we can aim them in a more... proactive direction.”

The 1930’s were rife with crime, if the FBI were to be believed. Just last year they had come out with a Bulletin, trying to get the public to speak up. They also had a fancy new lab for solving crime. ‘Oh well’ Alastor thought, ‘37 victims in and they’ve yet to even come close to me. Then again, I had Charlie before.’

Another wave of grief washed over him. He felt actual tears roll down his cheeks. Finally he was asked to speak.

Alastor cleared his throat, speaking was his specialty, but now it seemed so hard, “Charlie... she was my entire world, my confidant, my only love, and my.. partner-in-crime. She never deserved this. She was always so happy! Her smiles even outshone mine! I just want her back, if I’m entirely honest. I’d give anything to hold her again.” He turned, a blood red rose and a fist full of dirt clutched in either hand as they finished lowering her, he kissed the rose and tossed it down, then threw the handful of dirt as well. At that moment, something about Alastor seemed to fracture. After that day, no one ever saw him without a smile again.

Charlie

She awoke in a strange, gray room. Surrounding her were 3 forms, their faces indistinguishable, “Charlotte Rose Magne, you have been brought before us for judgement. Do you repent for your sins? Do you accept Lord Jesus Christ as your savior?”

“Repent? Repent for what?”

“For aiding in the murder of 37 individuals.”

“You mean taking horrible people off the street? For loving my husband?”

“If you shall not repent, to Hell you shall be sent.”

Before anything else could be said, three gavels slammed down, and Charlie could feel fire burning her soul. As she fell, she changed. Horns grew from her forehead, curling backwards, her sclera turned blood red, and her iris poison yellow. She lost all color, turning porcelain white. Her canines sharpened and she could taste blood in her mouth. She landed on a strange ground, everything around her was red, and there was a set of wrought iron gates in front of her. She picked herself up, walking forward.

So this was Hell. It was nothing like what she expected. Demons walked the streets, from all the eras thus far. She looked to her left and saw her reflection, ‘Well this just won’t do.’ She felt a strange tug as she concentrated on changing her appearance to that without the horns and eyes. There. Once her eyes had changed to black with yellow sclera and her horns were gone, she looked like an actual doll. She grinned.

Looking around some more, she noticed there were demons selling drugs and murdering others out in the open. It was obvious to her that everything goes in this place. There is one thing she is certain of, though. She needs some kind of protection.

There was a commotion to her right, a building that looked like a jazz lounge stood, and in front of it she could hear two demonesses arguing, “you can’t just up and quit! You’re our only Canary!”

Mimzy, I do believe I just did! Now enough with this jive, I’m off to bigger and better things!”

Charlie decided this was her chance. She knew she had a great voice, Alastor and others had always told her so. She felt a pang of grief and pain. Alastor...

She pushed it aside. She needed a job to survive now. She would just wait for her husband. They wouldn’t be apart forever.

“Excuse me! You’re Ms. Mimzy? You own this lounge?”

The demoness turned to her, “Yes, that’s me. What do you need?”

Charlie grinned, using the charm that her husband had taught her when she wanted something, “Why! I’ve heard quite a bit about this place and I would just love the chance to audition for a singing position. I’m told I have quite the pipes, and you seem to have found yourself in need of a canary!”

Mimzy looked Charlie up and down before hefting a heavy sigh, “Fine, at least you’re a looker. Let’s go. Hopefully you aren’t a trip for biscuits.”

Charlie just kept her smile at full blast. She was taken into the clip joint and straight to Mimzy’s office, where she was given a list of songs to pick from. She chose Blue Skies by Irving Berlin, as it was one of her favorites.

As she sang the song, she watched Mimzy’s face go from doubtful, to elated, to downright giddy. When she was done, Mimzy jumped up, “Why I never! What a talent! You can count yourself hired. What is your name anyway? You never told it.”

“My name, Ms. Mimzy, is Charlie.” She said, adding a flourishing curtsy.

“And what kind of demoness are you? I was a Lady in White until they finally got a hold of me and sent me down here.”

Charlie didn’t know how, but she knew the immediate answer, and her grin widened, “I am a siren. If I wanted, I could entrance all those around me. Make them do what I wish. But no worries, Ms. Mimzy, you’ll not have to deal with that unless you ask it of me. I prefer to just let things lie.”

Mimzy laughed, “Oh, but I wouldn’t mind at all if it brought more patrons in. What with that new lounge down the street, patronage has been on the fritz lately.”

“Well then, Ms. Mimzy, I do believe you have yourself a new Canary!”

And thus, for the next year, Charlie would sing at The Black Silhouette, and business was booming. Charlie would use a siren song once or twice in a night in order to draw in patrons, and Mimzy paid her extremely well. By the end of a year, Charlie had more money than a couple overlords with how much she made the lounge. Mimzy ended up having to buy a bigger building just to keep up with the intake of patrons.

There was one incident that became the reason Mimzy knew why Charlie was in Hell in the first place.

One of the men her husband had murdered, a serial rapist if she remembered right, had come to The Black Silhouette with a pally or two and recognized Charlie right away. After all, she’d actually lured him into the trap, and considering his pastime, had wanted a personal hand in bumping him.

He’d made a huge scene, of course, so Charlie had to deal with it personally. Killing him again in front of all her patrons had admittedly been a tad bit thrilling. Unfortunately that nagging guilt had nipped at her heals again. She pushed it down. He was the real monster. Still, she wished her husband was here. He’d enjoy doing the dirty work so she could keep her hands clean.

When Mimzy had asked what that was all about, Charlie had a simple reply, “Why, I used to help my husband murder people of course! He was one of them. Even had a hand in it myself, though I usually prefer not to do the real dirty work.”

She had grinned the entire time. As her husband used to say: smiles are power. If you can smile through anything, then people will always move out of your way.

Charlie missed her husband dearly. Her heart ached every day. She hated the pain, but she also hoped that he didn’t join her too soon.

“Charlie! You’re on in 1 minute!” She grinned.

Alastor

Hell. He was in Hell. The crown of his head still ached where his horns had come in, his smile still ever present, only now his teeth were sharper. There was a constant pain in his stomach, and he knew it would never be relieved. Wendigo. That word crossed his head and he knew it to be true. He stepped through the gates and into Hell’s streets. He didn’t expect to find his wife. She was probably sent up top. The grief struck again.

Truthfully, Alastor had only gotten angrier and messier once his beloved departed.

He would have kept going though, if not for the hunter. That fucking hunter. Those fucking dogs.

As he passed by a Jazz lounge called The Black Silhouette, the door opened and a voice he knew all too well came lilting out, curling around him and soothing something inside him that he didn’t realize until that moment needed soothing.

His head whipped to the side, and he immediately made for the doors to the lounge. He passed the Bouncer and as he caught sight of her, his lungs stopped working.

Up on stage was his Charlie. His doll. His partner-in-crime. She was beautiful in a sparkling red floor length dress, her blonde hair longer now than he remembered, but still gorgeous as ever. She looked like a porcelain doll.

He stood for minutes as she finished, heading backstage. He rushed to go find her. He had to.

Charlie Charlie Charlie.

He was stopped by a small woman, “You may be a fan, but no one is allowed back stage to go see her.”

Alastor felt rage at being held back from his beloved. Red sigils started dancing around his being, smile becoming sharper, “You will not stand between my wife and myself. Move.”

The woman looked shocked, but not by his power, but by his words, “Wait. You’re her husband?” She narrowed her eyes, “What is your name. I’m the only one she’s ever told her husbands name to, so I’ll know if you’re lying.”

Ah. So Charlie trusted this woman enough to tell her his name? He supposed he could play along then. Wouldn’t want to upset Charlie, after so long apart, “Alastor.”

The woman looked at him closely, “Very well. Her dressing room is the third door on the left. There are no names on the doors so people can’t just see who’s in where.”

Without another thought or word, Alastor rushed forward. He got to the door before bursting through it, forgetting for the moment all the manners his mother taught him.

He watched Charlie whip around, her eyes red and yellow, and a vicious smile on her face. Until she caught sight of him, “A-Alastor? Is... that really you?”

“Why hello Darlin! Wasn’t expecting to see you down here!” His heart wouldn’t stop beating.

Charlie let out a watery laugh as Alastor stepped through the door, shutting it firmly, “I refused to repent when they offered, and I knew you wouldn’t, so I got sent here. I managed to run into Mimzy right as I arrived. Her Canary had just flew the coop and she needed a new one so I offered right then and there. After all, I had a lavish lifestyle I was quite used to.”

Alastor chuckled, “Darling, you hated that lifestyle.”

Finally neither could take it and Charlie was in his arms, and he finally felt whole again.

[doppoem-blog]

        byyyyy the way! i did set up a mains page earlier today. because this blog is super new, i definitely don’t expect for that to fill up any time soon but, if you’d like to discuss becoming mains at some point ( after we’ve interacted enough ), let me know. ALSO, don’t be discouraged if your muse isn’t here! i don’t practice full exclusivity or anything. 

[the-lunar-mistress]

LFRP: Aleqa Dalamiq (Mateus)

Name: Aleqa Dalamiq

Alias: The Lunar Mistress

Age: 19

Race: Au Ra | Xaela | Kagon

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual (Male preference)

Marital Status: Single

Alignment: Chaotic

APPEARANCE

Hair: Long pure white hair that was recently cut short

Eyes: Neutral green with brilliant light green limbal rings that tend to glow during extreme emotion

Height: 4'8"

Build: Toned. Petite. Dancer. Slightly bottom heavy with a strong lower body. Soft almost unblemished tawny brown skin.

Distinguishing Marks: Freckles, Strange iridescent scales, Long black claws

Common Accessories: Dark lipstick, Concealed dagger

PERSONAL

Profession: Hostess at Silk Bordello, Assassin for hire, Information Broker, Shaman

Hobbies: Alchemy, Dancing, Singing, Learning about magic and other cultures

Languages: Old Auri, Doman, Eorzean

Residence: Silk chambers

Birthplace: The Azim Steppe

Patron Deity: Nhaama, Menphina

Fears: Deep waters

HOOKS

 Looking to unwind and have some adult fun? Aleqa can usually be found at Silk Café, Club & Bordello working as a hostess during most night functions due to her being nocturnal.

Need a problem solver? Aleqa is a ruthless and sadistic assassin who is known to carve small crescent moons into the necks of her victims. For the small price of valuable knowledge and information.

Are you a Kagon or a Dalamiq? Aleqa is currently trying to learn more about the cultures she abandoned for freedom. She doesn't encounter other Xaela often and she sometimes feels homesick.

Are you involved with crime? The underground? Aleqa has little to no morals besides her strange sense of loyalty to people who make an impact on her life. Due to her neutral, disinterested and sometimes charming attitude, she comes off as decent but she's willing to engage in anything that gets her blood pumping.

Are you part of an occult? Do you deal with magic that isn't socially acceptable? Aleqa is interested. She's always known she's been strangely adept as a mage and would love to learn more and expand her horizons. She is very sensitive to aether but that's a topic she doesn't talk about.

In need of a seemingly innocent concubine? Something pretty to take with you to events? Perhaps in disguise? A fellow spy? You can try. But she's not one to submit without a fight and a damn good reason. But she does enjoy live music, beautiful people, and tea.

WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR

Dark, magical, mature, villainous, thrilling RP. I love tragedy and things that really get me out of my shell. I'm very new to this and have been taking some time to improve my skills. That includes trying to understand all the lore, oh my goodness! (I'm working on it. Bear with me lol)

Uh. Romances are fine? It depends. I like forbidden romance and would prefer there to be a power dynamic. She's not looking for a Good Samaritan as a mate. PLOT DRIVEN ERP is fine after proper communication. She’s not one for one-offs unless it involves work.

I'm also on the hunt for tribal and cultural things consisting of family or other members of the tribes mentioned above. Friends, acquaintances, rivals, enemies. Still, a very fresh character and I want to get her hands dirty. I'm also willing to discuss different plots and am open to most themes.

OOC INFORMATION

I'm a full-time college student who is basically brain dead on Tuesday and Thursday due to class. My Fridays are booked biweekly due to a bar night I help coordinate on another character. Best times to reach me are via discord (Lulubell#8917) after 5pm CST.

I do prefer in-game RP for the visuals but am willing to engage in discord RP if necessary. I've also gotten into the habit of saving logs and I WILL ask for permission to use outside of personal use. Because of Tumblr.

I usually adapt to different RP styles since I'm still learning but I do prefer descriptive

[polttaa]

tags !! part 1/x ?? 

[kennedydevin-blog]

OOC WEEK: DAY THREE

RAPID FIRE:

Tea or coffee? Tea. I get this really great tea from this place in the farmer’s market here. I currently have an iced lemon cake & a Hawaiian Sunset tea. They’re amazing. 

Stars or planets? Planets. I’m a planets person! 

Sun or moon? Moon. I love the moon with all my being. 

Black or white? Black. I look much better in black than white. Plus my cat is black, so that cat furr totally 

The zoo or the aquarium? Animals living free away from human interference. Neither, to be honest. I love animals too much to put them in captivity like that. 

Drama or comedy? A difficult decision, but drama wins by just a hair. Mostly because a lot of what I watch has drama in the title. I watch more crime drama than anything else. 

Thriller or adventure? Adventure. 

Short walks to the fridge or long walks on the beach? I love to walk, but like... not really on the beach. 

Indoors or outdoors? Although it depends on the day, to be honest. I love being outside. 

Animals or plants? I cannot keep plants alive to save my life, but it’s always been a dream to have an apartment with white walls, & plants hanging on every nook and cranny in the place. 

Time alone or time with others? I love being alone. I mean... as long as my cat is with me.

Introvert or extrovert? I think the above question answers why I’m an introvert.

Silence or music? Both, really. There are times when I just like to listen to the sounds of the house. But there are also times where I love listening to music. 

Darkness or light? Except when I’m trying to write or read. 

Cats or dogs? I know I have a dog, buttttttt.... my cat is the love of my life. If she were an actual person, I’d marry her. 

Dancing or being the wallflower? Although it depends on the people I’m with, because I will dance if I’m with certain people. 

Right or left? I write with my left hand, so I guess left. 

Werewolves or vampires? Both are good. I have started to have an appreciation for vampires because of the Lore podcast. The first episode was about vampires, but there have been several on people that transform which are ALWAYS fascinating. Literally this podcast is my life. Check this podcast out, you won’t be sorry. My favorite is this episode about lighthouses.

Dressing stylishly or dressing comfortably? I say as I’m sitting here... in my Grace Potter shirt, my Hamilton sweatshirt, sweatpants, & neon socks.

Sunrise or sunset? I think the sunset colors are prettier.

Lead or follow? Yikes, depends on the situation, but most of the time, leader. 

Optimist or pessimist? There’s no doubt about that.

Staying up late or waking up early? I say... as I go to bed before midnight every night except Thursday.

Speaking up or staying silent? I’ll often get into fights for just saying what I feel in a situation, especially if something is disgusting. 

White lies or brutal honesty? I mean... I’m a compulsive liar, but... I normally tell the truth to people... most of the time. Depends on the human.

Ask for permission before doing the stupid thing or ask for forgiveness after doing the stupid thing? Kind of neither. I don’t really do anything that others would consider stupid. 

LONG FORM:

Pet peeves: human existence. I mean, I don’t get annoyed by people often, unless they are just being assholes. Like for instance the people that ask “how can you be vegan & pro-choice” LISTEN ASSHOLE, you’re asking for a fight. Other than people asking questions that are obviously just looking to pick my thoughts and opinions on stuff apart, I am super not annoyed by people. 

Bad habits: I pick at my cuticles, so a lot of the time my fingers start to bleed.

Favourite scents (your amortentia!): Burning wood, Sunkist ( like oranges are good, but sunkist smells amazing ), my cat, lemons. A few of my favorite  scents. I also like lavender, mint, & rosemary. 

Favourite animal: Cats, but don’t tell my dog. I have a lot of favorite animals, but cats are so adorable. 

Favourite colour: Green is my favorite color. 

Favourite place to go (local or otherwise) (photos get bonus points): Honestly, I don’t have any local places that I go because the area I live in is sort of... boring. In New York, there’s this comic book shop I always go to. So probably that’s one of my favorite places. I’ll post some pictures at the bottom.

Favourite meme: ??? I’m not up to date on all the memes, so I don’t really have a favorite. 

Do you have any creative or artistic abilities? Yes, I do! Besides writing, I do watercolors. I can’t draw as well, but I love watercolors. Also, sometimes I knit & I’m learning to make my own soaps because a lot of homemade soaps aren’t vegan??? 

Talk about something that made you happy today, yesterday, this week: It snowed over the weekend! We were supposed to get 7 inches, though it turned out to only be about 4 or 5, but it snowed. I live in North Carolina, so snow doesn’t always happen every year, or not a big snow at least. I just love winter weather so much. 

Talk about an experience that made you feel proud or confident: To be honest, I don’t really know what to put here. I’m not a very prideful person or confident for that matter. 

Talk about something/someone that makes you feel relaxed: Dungeons & Dragons is the only thing that really relaxes me. I have two characters. One of them, Nico Thornbrush, is a halfling ( basically they’re hobbits, but they’re only 3 feet. ) fighter, that recently started to become a paladin -- or holy warrior. He’s only 20 years old, barely old enough to leave home, but he’s just so good... just such a cinnamon roll. But he’s dumb & doesn’t reallly believe in death. My other character though... is a whisper gnome named Ludovic Silvermist -- he goes by Ludo -- ( because I wasn’t allowed to name him Ronald without getting judged ). He’s a trickery cleric, that isn’t very devout to his goddess -- he kind of hates her. He’s all about them lies & deception to get him ahead. He used to be an orphan until a priest took him in. He has a rat named Scabbers that he occasionally talks to because it’s his best friend.

Talk about something you’re yet to try for the first time but want to: Skydiving. 

Who are your role models & why: Okay, so I have a lot of role models. But I’m just going to put a few here, since I don’t want to write novels. 

Matthew Mercer - Matthew is such a great person. I could probably go on & on about the things he’s done that have really inspired me & made me think he’s such a great person, but it would be a novel. If you have played more than one video game, chances are that Matt was a voice in it. He’s got over 300 IMDB credits. Seriously... & his fiance Marisha Ray is very involved with getting better working conditions for voice actors. Matt is that over achieving person that you just want to deck in the face, but he’s so sweet you just can’t bring yourself to do so, but he’s also an evil genius, so there’s that. He always reminds everyone to have faith that everything will work out. Even if it’s about his game, it still translates into real life. He’s created so much & done such a good job at inspiring others to create that I just look up to him for that reason alone.

Practically the entire cast of Critical Role is a role model to me in some way, so I won’t talk about all of them in detail. 

Obama - I think just saying that is enough. His farewell speech was just so amazing & really says everything about why I look up to him. 

Kieron Gillen & Jamie McKelvie - If you don’t read the series The Wicked + The Divine, I highly recommend it because it’s really good. I’ve met Gillen, McKelvie & their colourist Matt Wilson. They’re all really cool people. They’re doing what the love to do, but not only that, they have brought forward political and social issues into a comic series like I’ve never seen anyone do before. I love how these three are doing what they love, while being very aware of what they are creating & how important diversity representation is in media. I mean seriously, read WicDiv. There are themes of sexism and racism. And cultural appropriation v. appreciation is a huge deal as a whole in the comic. Seriously it’s such a diverse comic, I can’t even begin to describe. Not just with sexuality, but gender as well. I look up to them as a reminder that people are capable of change & even our generation can be pressured into thinking things that aren’t true because of media. 

Basically WicDiv is about these pop stars that are actually gods, but instead of living forever, they only have 2 years to live. Then in 90 years, it happens again. Basically, we’ve been told everyone is going to die by the end of the series. Which means my trash son is going  to die :/

Mara Wilson - seriously, just scroll through her twitter. She tells it like it is. I’m so glad Matilda grew up to be such a wonderful adult.

Talk about something you want to do this year: die. Hmm, I’m not sure. One of the biggest things on my list is to try and go to a live Critical Role show, if they have one. I think it would be really awesome to be able to see this show live. I mean... it’s live every week, but they stream from California. Maybe also one of the Night Vale shows. 

Would not recommend going on a Wednesday if you’re ever in NYC. It’s pretty scary with all the people getting all the new comics. 

[glysimachia-blog]

STILL ALIVE. and your girl will be returning august 12th. a post about what’s been going on with me will be coming out as well as some changes i will be making on my blog. for those of you still here, thank you for being so patient with me. i’ve been going through a rough time, had honestly contemplated whether or not i would come back but here i am! as always, you can speak to me on discord but i’ll be using these two weeks to get write and throw things into my queue. i hope you have all been doing AMAZING and i love you all!

[jcmesbuckybcrnes-arc]

TAG MASTERPOST - FOR MY USE, DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT

( you're a regular decorated emergency | about )

( she held the world upon a string | alex )

( truth be told i never was yours | asks )

( it's the greatest thing that's yet to have happened | barry )

( you remind me of a few of my famous friends | bobbi )

( keep telling yourself that i'm a diva | body )

( i was gonna be that one in a million | bruce )

( the cut of your love never hurts | brunhilde )

( been waiting for somebody else to carry me | clint )

( i'm twisting allegories now | closed starters )

( this is gospel for the fallen ones | conversations )

( he took the days for pageant and became as mad as rabbits | crack )

( i'm the new cancer never looked better and you can't stand it | dash commentary )

( you either love them or i guess you don't | dash games )

( am i who you think about in bed | desires )

( it was beautifully depressing like a street car named desire | endgame compliant verse)  

( we'll stay drunk we'll stay tan let the love remain | evan )

( if crazy equals genius i'm a rocket scientist | grant )

( you can set yourself on fire but you're never gonna burn | groot )

( miss jackson are you nasty i love her anyway | harley quinn )

( that's when you stu-stu-stutter something profound | harry potter verse )

( finders keepers losers weepers | headcanons )

( you've got 'em wrapped around your finger | hope )

( hey look ma i made it | influencer verse )  

( pull my heart out my chest so that you can see it too | kirsten )

( if you never know who you can trust then trust me | loki )

( and love is not a choice | loves )

( if i go to hell will you come with me or just leave | main verse )

( it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality | meme call )

( i am just a villain vying for attention | memes )

( you were just too kind | morgan )

( assembling their philosophies from pieces of broken memories | musings )

( baby we built this house on memories | natasha )

( smile even though you're sad | nebula )

( the lace in your dress tangles my neck | nora )

( i'm of consenting age to be forgetting you in a cabaret | nsfw )

( i love the things you hate about yourself | okoye )

( give me envy give me malice give me your attention | ooc )

( this calls for a toast so pour the champagne | open starters )

( you were just too kind and i was too young to know | peggy )

( she held the world upon a string | pepper )

( forever younger growing older just the same | peter )

( don't you wonder when the light begins to fade | pietro )

( just another la devotee | promos )

( i wanna be who i couldn't say i'd ever been | psa )

( had to have high high hopes for a living | queue )

( i was the king of this hologram | rocket )

( all my friends we're glorious | sam wilson )

( i have a shirt that keeps your smell | sam winchester )

( can't even tell if this is a dream | sarah )

( i'm all dressed up and naked | self portraits )

( if you love me let me go | self promo )

( i'm just a white blood cell fighting like hell for you | ships )

( it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality | single dad verse )

( in the garden of evil i'm gonna be the greatest | shuri )

( everybody gets there and everybody gets their way | starter call )

( dancing's not a crime unless you do it without me | steve )

( the rooms have a hint of asbestos and maybe just a dash of formaldehyde | teacher verse )

( wound relentlessly around the words we used to sling | to do list )  

( oh he's slightly clever to just a certain extent | tony )

( the cut of your love never hurts | tony )

( all was golden when the day met the night | thor )

( been traveling in packs that i can't carry anymore | thread tracker )

( haven't you heard that i'm the new cancer | vampire verse )  

( throwing a line out to sea to see if i can catch a dream | verse )

( she's not bleeding on the ballroom floor just for the attention | victoria )

( didn't have a dime but i always had a vision | vision )

( we're still so young desperate for attention | wade ) 

( you fooled me once with your eyes now honey | wanda )

( don't think i'll ever get enough | wanted plots ) 

( when the moon fell in love with the sun | zoya ) 

[glysimachia-blog]

also, because i am not the type to vague: @mysericordia, i find it very interesting that you decided to change your face claim to mine after claiming our ocs are too alike and blocking me over it. i’m not going to bring up receipts. i’m not going to do this with you. just know that it’s shady and i’m going to be watching out to make sure you haven’t taken any of my things. 

live long and prosper, my dear. 

[glysimachia-blog]

[glysimachia-blog]

Writers: It was always our intention that Steve was the father of those two children Peggy Carter had.

Me: Oh, cool. That must have been weird for Sharon. 'Oh, hey, Uncle Steve. Totally know who you are. You look good in your youth, though. Totally going to kiss you despite knowing we're related.

[glysimachia-blog]

               the smallest of STARTER CALLS. i’m currently filling up my queue and i am writing all the starters. i’m trying to have at least two threads in every verse and for some, i realized i don’t have that many.                liking this means that you’re fine with me writing a starter, no matter the verse ( or muse for multis ), and doing the dang thing.

[glysimachia-blog]

THIS BLOG IS CURRENTLY ON A HIATUS.