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i’m making some major changes. i will be getting rid of all my blogs, save for dusan & my personal. i will be starting fresh aside from them.  new alias, new aesthetic, new characters. 

with some recent changes to my life, i needed to reevaluate. 

all my current blogs  (with the exception of dusan & my personal) will be going inactive, though will remain for a week or two. i can be reached through discord at hey hey mickey!!#4239.

i’m sorry for any inconveniences this may cause, but as of now @leveragedtm & @mothershipstolen and their affiliated sideblogs will be going inactive.

dusan ( @paintforged ) will remain active, though may dip into low activity.

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i was gonna do more, but i am way too cold. imma dig out my sweater and get cozy for bed and maybe do some more things

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sexuality & romantic inclinations of my muses

chiara: bisexual & biromantic ( preference for women )

donnie: heteromantic & demisexual 

chapman: homosexual & homoromantic

quinn: bisexual & biromantic ( no gender preference )

mcsweeten: demiromantic & demisexual ( no gender prefrence )

moreau: bisexual & grayromantic ( has no real concept of ‘love’ as an action / no preference on gender)

maggie: heterosexual & heteromantic

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brazenlass‌:

Nicole considered him with curious interest. A little detached, but his distress was enough to arouse some sympathy.  “Yeah, actually. Big black one? It was sitting on the table there but someone put it in their bag. Why, was it yours?”

“yeah. sorta. it’s my aunts, but i’m supposed to keep track of it. i thoiught i put it in my backpack. did you see what the guy who took it looked like?” his mind is racing. and he feels like he might have a breakdown.

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what a cutie ??? i stan my own oc.

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themonstrovs‌:

when she turns her head to look at him, the movement is slow, deliberate. she has dark lips and black eyes, impossibly black eyes, but her smile softens the edges of them. she hops off the desk, heeled boots clicking against the tile floor, petite height revealed as she walks up to him, still smiling. ‘ i know your aunt, ‘ she purrs. it’s a lie, but the woman gave her (unknowingly) the information she needed, ‘ and you’re just the person i need to talk to. ‘ she is familiar and affectionate, kind, hooking an arm through his as though she’s known him forever. ‘ what kind of food did you get? ‘

“oh.” he believes her. sort of. he wants to believe her. even if he’s on edge. and she touches him and he flinches, as if expecting violence, as if expecting something different from the gentle looping of an arm. he lets her touch him, still unsure of her. but if she knew his aunt, like she said she did, he could vaguely trust her. “curry.” he said, looking at the boxes in the bag on his arm. “ah--did you want to come up to the apartment?” the apartment. technically his, now that his aunt was gone.

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donnie is being loud and i wanna write things with him. so like this for something from a shy and awkward bookkeeper?

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themonstrovs‌:

@leveragedtm — for donnie, from lilith. 

you can always, always smell the weak ones a mile away. they are soft and warm, and never resist when lilith sinks her claws into their flesh — sometimes they look at her as though they always expected it, like they had simply been waiting for it. he is one such creature — human, shy, soft, unsure. she sat on the security desk at the entrance of his building late one night, the security guard either passed out or dead on the desk behind her. one leg crossed over the other, she was posed like she hadn’t been expecting him, looking down at her manicure. but when she spoke, it was like his name had been waiting eons to escape her lips.

‘ donnie, donnie. out late, aren’t you? ‘

he doesn’t know her. but she almost draws him in. the way his name falls from her lips. he halts, take out in his hands almost falling in his surprise. she’s beautiful. the kind of beautiful his aunt surrounded herself with. and he’s not used to that kind of beauty talking to him. he squeaks, all but retreating like a turtlev into his baggy sweater. “i was just picking up food.” he mumbles. he isn’t sure who she is, but he wants to tell her everything. “how do you know my name?”

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moreau stares at the girl his men have brought before him. he’s proving a point. she’s honestly lucky he didn’t just kill her to show her father that what damien moreau asks for, he gets. and that was uninterrupted shipping through the ports of the city. and he’d prove that he wasn’t the kind of man other’s said ‘no’ to.

“hello, darling.” damien’s voice is patronizing and cold. he isn’t here to be kind or gentle. he’s here to prove his point. either he got the shipping ports he wanted, or william lost his only heir. “you’re lucky you know? i don’t often take prisoners. usually i just kill to send my message.”

@foundgold / odette.

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i see cr on my dash and it’s inspiring my muse over for @20faced, so catch me over there.

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cluechaser‌:

She understands & appreciates that there is usually always work to be done, something to do to earn a paycheck. She pouts just a little when he moves away, but the fact that he’s still touching her gives away his desires. To her, he’s easy to read in that regard but beyond that he’s cool as a cucumber & has a good poker face. Except when he smiles, that is. That could slay her in an instant if he tried. She gives him a mock look of offense when he says he doesn’t involve himself with grifters, even if she gets why. Why would he trust someone who lies for a living? ❝ You know, I wasn’t always a grifter. I don’t let my work bleed into my personal life. I might be good at it, but lying & pretending isn’t my favorite thing. ❞

“nah, but you still don’t give me much to trust you on.” he chuckled, finally letting  his hands fall and tuck into his pockets. he glances at his watch, “but, i’d be willing to do drinks. get to see if there really is someone besides a grifter inside.” he smirked.”my business can wait til tomorrow.” he tilts his head towards the alley, “come on, know a short cut to a damn good bar. bit upscale, but that’s not too bad.”

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themonstrovs‌:

as high class and as polished as alias was, not everyone in here worked a nine to five, not everyone had a legit job at all. the bar tender who checked on quinn’s drink called out the blonde woman’s name though, the one in the black dress, the one he thought he rememebered. harper. harper looked up and over, a brow raised, and the woman met her at the end of the bar, to tell her something. harper looked over, not at quinn, but beyond him, and nodded, moving to greet the man standing near quinn.

harper. and it clicks. high school. grade school. growing up together. and he doesn’t want her to see him, even though he’s curious. he’d left his ‘real’ life far behind when he’d become a hitter. no need to dig up childhood friendships and his past. too close for comfort. he stands, abruptly, paying for his drink and turning to leav e, only to turn right into her. well, there goes escaping without her notice.

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wantediniceland‌:

“Really? I didn’t know that.” Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Hardison had of course dug up information about Quinn long before and knew of his parents, but he hadn’t known that Quinn almost became a lawyer. “I pretended to be a lawyer for a con once. I ended up cheating, hacked some info on the opposing counsel. …what made you change careers?” He didn’t know if he was allowed to ask, but Quinn had been the one to open the door. Worst he could do was strangle him with his tie.

“got through a year of college and realized i wasn’t made it sit in a courtroom and wear a suit everyday. dropped out an’ joined the marines.” he explains. it’s a lot. a lot to tell someone. his hands linger. “my sister never forgave me for just up and leavin’ for as long as i did.”

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misshclly‌:

leveragedtm‌: 

Keep reading

“eyes open.” it’s a command, coupled with a light pinch to her inner thigh. “i want you to look me in the eyes as i make you fall to pieces.” damien orders with confidence and moves his fingers slowly, teasing her with the gentleness with which they move. 

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hittcr‌:

                eliot’s knuckles were stinging and his knife would need to be cleaned later, but that could wait. meeting with moreau was at the top of his list. consider  their position thoroughly secured. moreau would be very pleased. and that was the point. pleasing moreau was eliot’s main goal. he didn’t have much else going for him at this point anyway and moreau was… well. he was very convincing. he had a way with words, a presence that eliot couldn’t bring himself to argue with. he never asked questions. eliot was a follower of orders as it was and moreau… he did very good with that, giving him orders to follow.                     he smoothed his shirt out and before stepping into the warehouse. he had good news for damien moreau. that usually meant good things for him as well. eliot was a quick learner. he could adapt very easily to what damien moreau needed from him. in this case… a good answer.                  “very well, damien. not a problem.” there wasn’t a single hitch. in fact, eliot had rather enjoyed himself. he didn’t think that was part of his job,  really, but it was definitely a nice perk. they moved into damien’s office and  eliot stood, not sitting until he was directed to.                  “your friend should be clear.” eliot might not completely understand  all the things when it came to politics, but he knew enough to know that the fear of god that he’d just put into one of the candidates was important to damien moreau’s success in this particular political venture. 

that was why eliot was the favorite. he was confident, he knew what moreau wanted to hear. and more importantly, he got results. good results. and did it without question. he moves towards eliot, slowly, leisurely, sizing him up with his eyes, then his hands. trailing his arms, his torso. “good. succeeding in the political atmosphere of a war torn country would be so much harder without you.” he purrs, his tone gentle and a promise of sweeter things to come.

moreau kisses eliot. not for the first time, not for the last. he liked controlling eliot this way. with gentleness and smoothness and kindness. it was amusing, watching the younger man mold himself into whatever damien wanted him to be. it makes him feel powerful, and damien has always chased powerful. it happened when you came from nothing, when everything was a fight just to get the most basic needs met.

now he had money, he had power and control. and he craved more. it was like a drug to damien, and manipulating eliot was sweet as honey in that respect. it was powerful. to feel like he could conquer the world, leave a trail of blood in his wake and eliot would follow him anywhere. it was intoxicating. damien’s breath smells like expensive whiskey, and his eyes are dark, “i’m proud of you, eliot,”

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↪The Jailhouse Job

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