moonsmourning

[moonsmourning]

bokuto with a goatee…

[moonsmourning]

pest was one word zoey would use. evil soul suckers from down-below was a better term to use, but she's held her tongue well here. ❝ yes! ❞ the woman exclaims to his first statement, only to realise he had, in fact, added to it with a question. stopping halfway through signing a picture for a fan, zoey blinks and turns towards the soja boy, gawking like an idiot before her face slowly begins to glow a bright red, embarrassment consuming her like a tidal wave. ❝ no! i didn't mean that! i- i meant 'yes, you are a pest', not that you're a pretty pest! ❞

❛   It  almost  feels  as  if  you're  treating  me  like  I'm  some  sort  of  pest   ❜   he  doesn't  seem  offended  though,  if  anything  he  looks�� much  more  amused  as  he  moves  to  set  chin  in  his  palm  and  watch  them  further.  ❛  am  I  at  least  a  pretty  pest?  ❜  he  makes  it  a  point  to  bat  his  eyelashes  at  them  after  asking  that. / @moonsmourning starter.

[moonsmourning]

when it came to missions petra usually worked with nanami and haibara, or she did solo missions. so she was nervous to be teamed up with someone not only in the year above her, but someone who was stronger, and already had a name among the society as someone who was already considered very strong. he wasn't gojo satoru, of course, but geto suguru was almost as impressive. so, perhaps, she had some performance anxiety. the last thing she wanted was to show this guy she was weak! not when things were going so well so far.

but instead of scolding her, he praises her and near enough compliments her. poor petra is momentarily stunned into silence, left gawking at him with rosy cheeks. eh? for real? it takes a moment for her to snap out of her thoughts, and when she does, she nods enthusiastically. ❝ yes! okay! ❞ turning on her heel, petra wanders over to the other edge of the building, one that leads to another alley, which would be how she'd get down and to the opposite alley without showing the entire street full of people that she could, in fact, fly. ❝ i'll see you soon then! ❞

with that petra leaps down and sprouts her cursed angel wings to slow her descent before she lands on her two feet. from there, she exits the alley and wiggles through the crowd, reaching the alley the curse wandered into before bringing her wings back out and flying back up, hovering in the area whilst keeping out of sight of normal civilians.

his arm caught her , just as quickly anticipating her moves. a lesser sorcerer might have hesitated, he knew petra well enough to know she wouldn't second-guess herself. it wasn't a rough pull, just a simple sweep of his arm wrapping around her waist to reel her back in with enough for the both of them to slightly fall backward. the contact lingers a moment longer as he gently withdraws, gaze have distracted by watching the alleyway.

even as she apologizes, he shakes his head, not answering immediately. at first, he's too focused on sending out his gliding serpent curse, letting it follow the target using it's specific 'shadow sneak' ability... which lets it go unnoticed. "I already sent one after it," he replies calmly, eyes too focused for a moment, "it's in the alley now, tracking its every step." then finally, his gaze shifts back to her. her reaction wasn't lost on him, "You did good. Reacting quickly isn't a bad thing." a small reassurance for her as he'd sensed her hesitation. "Besides, you caught the pattern before either of us could have confirmed it." alluding to the fact he'd built off that to track it.

"The curse is trying to double back. I think.." he glances back over, averting his gaze, "If we move fast enough, we can cut it off at the intersection mouth." giving her a brief nod, "if we split up now, we have an edge," moving closer to the ledge, "you hover above the alley, keep an eye on the exits, and i'll close in from ground level." tapping his phone, indicating their continued communication.

// @moonsmourning

[moonsmourning]

a smile graces her lips at his comment about death, but she remains silent. he explains quietly what he's doing and what she can do and help with, and she nods, turning her attention back to the room they were in. she's noticed, oddly enough, that his world seems a lot more ancient and magical than her own.

when he allows her to touch an object, she does, and plays with it while gathering as much information as she can. compared to strange, who does this expertly, unmoving and almost uninterested, roselle wanders around curiously, almost beaming with childlike wonder. she likes to know things, especially when it comes to anything magical. and the relics here were so interesting.

❝ does it ever get heavy? ❞ roselle asks, moving to stand at his side once she had put a book away on a shelf, ❝ being in charge. the one everyone looks up to or comes to for help? ❞ she couldn't imagine being in his position, or even any of the avengers, really. anyone who had put themselves out there to the world to be seen and then relied upon. that weight seemed too heavy.

" and unfortunately, death doesn't give up her spoils so knowledge can in fact not bring you back— typically. " stephen sighs. the words leave him slower than he intends, heavy with truth. he glances down at his hands, the fingers twitching slightly before watching her hands come over hers. there's a pause as he swallows, trying to smooth out the nerves rising in his throat. he couldn't even fault her. not really. not when curiosity had always been a part of him too, just as relentless.

" organizing, that you can help with. i'll tell you what you can touch, and then you can ask whatever questions you want. "

his voice is quieter now, a little more open. around them, shelves stretch to the ceiling, crowded with relics, books, and half-dusted artifacts that hum with quiet energy. the air smells of old paper and faint incense, the kind that never fully fades. it feels still here, like time pauses just long enough for secrets to be shared.

[moonsmourning]

what the actual fuck is this heat

[moonsmourning]

he doesn't blame laz for barely paying attention; this sport was barely interesting even in the professional leagues. but that was just his opinion. maybe it was because he was a hockey player, he felt as much, considering hockey was a lot more... demanding? the risk of injury was higher, it could get violent, and it could, sometimes, be quicker paced than volleyball. but it was the sport his sister loved, so an attempt at tolerating it had to be made. that's why he shows face. because the grin and thumbs up his sister shoots him whenever she scores a point, did, occasionally, fill him with pride. he could see himself in her. they reacted the same when playing their respective sports. their personalities, which were different in general, melded into the same one when they were on the rink and on the court. pride takes over, confidence, and motive. they both moved with purpose, but were like the shadows of their team. nothing but a lingering presence, which either demanded attention or worked in the background of their teams. it was entertaining to watch, actually. just not all the time, clearly.

humming at laz's comment, he ignores how he chooses to finish it off with an insult. ❝ having two professional sports players in the family would be annoying, ❞ sana admits, pursing his lips somewhat. but what could he do if his sister wants to pursue it as a career? nothing, really. ❝ she's a nerd. she watches the pro guys play, has a crush on some stupid emo guy that plays for some german sounding team. he's the setter for the team, that's as much knowledge i got from her lovesick rambles. ❞ he doesn't know many volleyball players aside from a few popular names. he doesn't like them, for most of them are the playboy type, the ones who enjoy the fame for female attention. it's yucky in sana's opinion, but people could do whatever they wanted with their fame and money. but, from what he's seen, his sister knows which ones were decent and which ones were slimy, so he's glad for that. not that he expects anything to happen, but you just never really know.

regardless, he's not sure if she'd pursue it after school, and that was okay. taking the popcorn from the man, he pops a few in his mouth and turns to look around, peering through the strands of his hair to get a good once-over of the crowd before turning back to loosely pay attention to the game. ❝ i'm starved and bored, but i can't leave before this game finishes. ❞ he promised not only his sister, but his mother, so he had no option but to stay. tilting his head, he looks over at laz, arching a brow. not that he'd see it. ❝ what are you doing after this? ❞

he doesn't really like volleyball all that much; the fans are atrocious in a way that give him a headache, the matches go on for far too long, and all the squeaking of the sneakers start to make his teeth grind after a while.  his sister has always been dead set on it though and because he is a good brother, he does show up when she has important matches  ––  even if he would much rather be spending the day sprawled on the couch and not having to do anything.  days off from his own practice are rare; they had played exceptionally though the other night so a reward was practice being cancelled.  he's glad for it; his shoulder still aches from where he went into the boards, smarted up and bruised at the back when he turns to look in the mirror.  thankfully this time it's just bumps and bruises; he has to learn to stop playing so rough, but at the same time, that's hockey.  if he's not playing with his entire damn heart, what's the sense of even playing?  what does make him smirk a bit though is the fact that somehow sana has been dragged into the sport for the same reason  ––  and looks almost as miserable as he does.  it's why he only feels a little bad for snagging more of the chips than he should have when he was distracted; if he didn't want him eating his food, then he shouldn't have left it unattended. 

❝ your fault for offering them, ❞  he murmurs back with a shrug, tugging free a bottle of water from his bag and washing it all down.  eyes follow the trajectory of the ball for a good two minutes before he loses focus again, only snapping back to attention when he sees his sister sliding in to save the ball right before it hits the floor.  it sails back over the net and the rally continues, and his own bones ache in sympathy.  his own shifts are broken into a minute burst, two at the longest and when he's on his last legs.  the fact that there's no switching off really for them always makes him feel uncomfortable.  they might not be moving as much as he does up and down the ice, but it still feels like it's going to be another long game.  great.

an eyebrow raises back at sana and he snorts under his breath; it's a horrendous insult and one that he's used to by now.  he's not even that short, it's just that sana is built like a lanky tree that somehow likes to show it off everywhere he goes.  ❝ i apologize for being human sized, oh giant one. ❞  their insults don't bite as much as they used to when they first met; laz has gotten used to his presence, something that feels oddly enough like it's meant to be there  ––  maybe it's the fact that they've had to do plenty of drills together or the fact that when you're playing on the same team as someone, you tend to learn to like them whether you want to or not.  it's all a trust game in the end and what's better for the team; he won't let his ego get in the way of that.  he turns back to rummaging through his bag as sana takes a seat, procuring a bag of popcorn that he had stashed there.  he holds it out to him, a peace offering  ––  it's no nachos, but it's a snack.  ❝ honestly?  i'm barely paying attention.  she won't care if she wins or if she doesn't  ––  she just likes playing.  though she's going to wind up sore tomorrow with how many face dives she's taken on the floor to keep that fuckin' thing in play. ❞  he lets out a small hum in the back of his throat, leaning backward in his seat once more and stretching his legs as far as the barrier will allow  ––  it's not much, but it feels good to at least move a little.  ❝ your sister's good though.  she's probably got a shot at going pro if she can learn to keep herself in her position instead of all over the court. ❞  

[moonsmourning]

she never ceases to amuse him. even injured and stuck in a situation like this, she maintains the illusion of being in control, even though they definitely weren't. the situation has spiralled into madness, but, really, almost every mission they go on never goes to plan. it makes him wonder why they ever really plan these types of things down to the minute detail. habit, no doubt, the need for things to go perfectly. manifestation, said lemon once, but tangerine hadn't really ever believed in that sort of stuff. the result of their missions proved as much. this fucking mission proved as much. still, he wasn't with lemon, but with maven, and that meant tangerine didn't have to spiral into insanity so soon.

❝ oi, ❞ the man calls after her, raising to his feet, finger pointed at her, ❝ don't threaten me with a good time, doll. ❞ a joke, clearly, evident with the grin that coils onto his lips. his smile drops, however, and his hand raises, fingers dusting over his moustache as he moves to her side, a hand moving around her waist to take some of her weight. ❝ i just think staying here is a bloody terrible idea, ❞ he says, guiding her towards another part of the cabin, a door which was locked from the outside with a heavy-duty padlock. ❝ bein' stuck in a corner is never good. ❞ which is something she would most definitely know. while some people were more dangerous when backed into a corner, maven was injured, meaning tangerine wasn't thinking clearly. he wouldn't leave her, would he hell, but he couldn't react how he normally would. ideally, he'd leave her in the cabin and go out to get an idea of the surrounding area, but that absolutely wasn't an option here. so they'd have to play the slow game, the waiting game. and by god, he hated waiting.

helping her over to the kitchen table, he only releases her when she's relaxed, and then he moves around to try and locate keys that could match the keyhole in the lock. ❝ what do you reckon is behind there then? ❞ curious, of course, he can already imagine. guns? knives? hunting gear? perhaps freezers full of dead bodies. a lot of people often took to the mountains and forests, because being a serial killer in a city meant getting caught within at least a day. but out here in the middle of nowhere? it was easy to get away with it if you knew how to cover your tracks. he would know, of course. when no keys are located, he decides to pick up something large and heavy, opting to just try and beat the lock off the door. after a few minutes of trying that, he's barely put a dent in it, so he turns to maven, wondering if she was watching him, amused. she was a trained assassin, a woman bred for the execution of another, someone who was taught tools and ways to get through every obsticle to get to her target. a padlocked door must be easy for her. so, he stops and turns, dropping the object in his hand and moving to fold his arms at her. ❝ you just gonna' stand there and watch me floundering like a twat, or are you going to get that door open? ❞ injured or not, he knows something like this would take very little effort for her. perhaps she'd pluck a clip from her hair like they did in the movies.

it's not lack of faith  ––  maven knows that tangerine is good at what he does, that the jobs he takes on rarely ever come without results. it's a kneejerk reaction, that need to keep someone safe; it's something that most in the red room have beaten out of them. they are meant to be heartless killing machines, ready to mold themselves into whatever they need to in order to get their mission completed. the ditzy girl, the beautiful femme fatale, the lost girl, the tipsy princess  ––  they are all roles, masks that they are meant to don. it means that if they do, they will complete their target, they will walk away, and they will make the red room proud. they will train among one another until next orders. there is no family, there is no sense of being  ––  you are a machine and nothing more. maven knows that there was a time when she was more machine than she was human, but yet there had been a part of her heart that had remained. a part of her that had looked at katya and olga as sisters when they had looked at her as obstacle. and there had been a part of her that had mourned her sisters when she had to kill them, even when they had gritted their teeth at her and swung their knives and thought nothing of the things that they were doing. their only mission had been to bring her in dead  ––  and if they didn't, there was a ticking bomb underneath their skin that would punish them for their failures. 

maven is thankful in that regard that she had been one of the last to get the traditional brainwashing  ––  that there isn't an implant in her. she cannot imagine the fear that the windows must feel now, that ever looming presence of do your job or die trying. it makes something in her quake, even though she knows that they are lost souls now. she doubts that the red room will ever quite be the same  ––  the last she had heard, yelena had been working to restore memories, but even that comes with its own set of repercussions. she knows all too well what it's like to have enemies on your heels that you had once called your own. maven has done her part  ––  she will not look back on them fondly, will not look at her missions as things to regard with happiness, but she will not regret living. 

❝ you're going to get killed with blind ambition. ❞  her voice is hard, accusatory, blue eyes slowly taking him in. they're unrelenting  ––  because she knows too well what it means when you go in with blind hands being thrown, operating on rage and nothing more than that. there's a twist in her stomach when she thinks of the possibility of tangerine not returning, of sending himself on a stupid mission that'll get him killed because of her. there's too much fondness; the red room would've had her cut those ties the second that they had formed. love has no place when you are an assassin because it creates problems just like this. and the worst part is that she isn't even sure if love is something that they share, or if there is a weird convenience in the fact that they are both monsters. maven hasn't had the heart to bring it up  ––  more or less because her own heart wants to hope far more than she ever seems to let on.

her lips press together but she allows herself to rise, keeping her weight off of her leg as much as she can  ––  it smarts when she moves, the pulling of stitches that make her grit her teeth ever so slightly. a careful breath in through her nose and she balances carefully on her toes, tips herself up as she had once done in a pointe shoe.  ❝ i wouldn't be surprised if they took it with them. this looks like a hunting cabin or a camping one, at the very least. there could be all sorts of nasty wildlife out here. ❞  her mind isn't completely on a weapon at the moment; it's already working through scenarios in which they have to hunker down here, how long they'll have until they are found, if there are any sort of non-perishables that have been left over, if there is water that is safe to drink. a glance over her shoulder, blonde curls falling over it as she regards him once more.  ❝ if you leave me here on my own, i will make sure to make you a eunuch. i want you to consider that fact before you make any rash decisions. ❞  her voice holds, the mirth drained from it, but the upturn of her eyebrow speaks louder promise.

[moonsmourning]

being a figure skater means being able to perform with dozens of eyes on you. ones in awe, ones scrutinising, and ones criticising. however, the most annoying set of eyes were those who don't have a real reason to watch. the volleyball players linger around the training centre often, and she's run into a lot of the players while wandering around the building. however, she's had no desire to watch them play. men and balls, that seems to be the theme in most sports. and they take it seriously, too, according to maven. so when she's in the middle of posing for charlotte, and she sees an ugly colour of fake blonde hair poking in through the door, she can't help but comment. and charlotte, expertly, solves the situation in seconds.

having paused, roselle stands near the rail, gaze fixated on the door the man zooms out of when charlotte insults him indirectly, not eliciting much of a reaction from rose. a brow arches at the woman who holds the camera, ignoring her signal to continue skating. ❝ you know them? ❞ she asks curiously, backing up from the rail a little, preparing to go back out onto the ice, ❝ bokuto is the one who looks like an owl, isn't he? ❞ she's seen him a lot; he's too loud for roselle to handle. good looking, she won't deny, but the whole team was attractive. still, she didn't engage much with them unless they spoke to her.

pushing off, the blonde does a few simple laps around the ice to build up some speed, raising her voice so that charlotte could hear her even when she's on the opposite side of the rink. ❝ do you take their photos too? i'd imagine volleyball photography would be much more exciting than figure skating. ❞ there was a lot of adrenaline that went with fast-paced sports like volleyball, when there was only a few seconds' pause when the ball was in the air. of course, she's seen the sport being played before, but it wasn't one she found herself all that interested in, truthfully. but watching hot guys get sweaty was something even roselle could admire, regardless of the sport. proceeding to do a few moves and poses, she can hear the clicks of the camera, something she'd grown accustomed to. ❝ which one of the boys do you like...? if you swing that way, of course. ❞

@moonsmourning dropped in the garden: "This blonde man has stupid ideas." roselle & charlotte!

" don't most of them? " an eyebrow raises in the woman's direction, her body leaning against the boards. ice in the summer is refreshing, especially given the fact that she's running across a field most of the time or is indoors on that playing field. but the ice is refreshing and stopping in for one of roselle's practice has proven nice; she's dragged her camera with her and the impromptu photoshoot is going to look killer for whatever headshots that rose is going to use in the future. not to mention they'll look good in her portfolio as well; rose is a natural on the ice and the angles of her body add a nice composition to the frame.

however, things like this always invite a certain amount of chaos, even if neither of the girls have been looking for it. of course atsumu would be hanging around the facility, curiously dyed head poking in and watching the two girls. he's harmless; you can break his ego within seconds and watch him cry, but it's still an annoyance nonetheless. she's had it with volleyball players who think they own every sport facility in the vicinity, and honestly, she's tempted to take one of rose's skates and show him just how horrendous his dye job is. but charlotte plays nice because bloodshed isn't in the works for now, and she hums as she leans forward a little bit more, conspirator in her gesture.

" he's not even the pretty one on the team. that goes to bokuto. what a loser. " her voice carries in the space and she hears a gasp before the slamming of a door. smirking, she rests her jaw in her palm as she lightly waves for rose to continue skating. " there, all taken care of. male egos are so fragile. "

[moonsmourning]

all the tokyo revengers edits on my tiktok are giving me the tr writing itch

[moonsmourning]

finding pinterest boards i forgot existed is like a lil surprise

[moonsmourning]

climbing out of my hiatus for Juno!!! I love her actually!!!

[moonsmourning]

@lustraveil: no, it's too public. (Geto @ petra!)

skidding to a stop, petra leaps up onto the ledge of the building where the curse had dived over, her gaze flickering around the world below until geto suguru, her senior, points out where the curse was, giggling manically and weaving its way through people below. they'd chased the curse all the way from an abandoned hospital to here, where it had given them the slip onto a main road, bustling with normal civilians. that doesn't seem to stop petra, however, as she's ready to leap from the building. she moves forward, ready to spring from the rooftop, until a strong arm reaches out and wraps around her waist, reeling her back in. the force behind it has them both stumbling back from the edge.

" no, it's too public. "

his arm is removed from her waist, and the ravenette pauses, just staring up at the boy who has more experience than her, is of a higher grade than her, and is overall, just better at this than her. but what could she expect? this was geto suguru. the fact that they were even put together for a mission seemed like a mistake, yet yaga reassured her it was done on purpose. now she thinks she understands why.

turning, she peers back down into the crowd, seeing the curse worm its way through, trying to head in a certain direction to evade them. guilt settles upon her shoulders, and she realises that she had just been about to sprout her wings and fly directly into a bunch of civilians to exorcise that curse. which would have been worse than gojo constantly forgetting to put veils up. ❝ i'm sorry, ❞ petra speaks lowly, timidly, almost shy, ❝ i panicked... do you think we can still get it? ❞ shifting her attention back towards the curse, who had slid out of the main road and down an alleyway in attempt to escape the two sorcerers, she then turns back to geto, hopeful. ❝ perhaps you have a curse that can track it while we get down and through the crowd? ❞

[moonsmourning]

KPOP DEMON HUNTERS IS MY NEW OBSESSION AAAAAH 😩🫶❤️ I had to make a supa fast drawing for them

I love them so much OMG 😭😭😭🫶 pls take my soul Saja boys

[moonsmourning]

if zenitsu loses his 1 fan that means im dead

[moonsmourning]

the fact that she's explaining herself makes this so much better, especially since he had absolutely no intention of commenting on the fan art she had signed. he may be a demon, may be a little out of touch with the modern world, but he's caught up rather quickly and has seen all of their ' ship art ' online. it doesn't bother him in the slightest; in fact, it's helping him achieve his goal. ❝ hm, ❞ he begins, calmly, arching a brow at her, ❝ i liked it. it was very well drawn. you looked quite smitten with me, just like i know you are now. ❞ plucking her nerves like a guitar, dohyun crosses his arms across his chest. ❝ you can be nice? prove it. ❞

"i only signed that stupid miromabby drawing 'cause it was a little girl who brought it to the table and i'm nice to children, okay? plus, she said she only wanted my signature on it." mira didn't think anyone could've seen it considering how quick the little girl was on her feet to excitedly get back to her mom, but the drawing was quite big. hard to miss, and whatever heightened senses he had as a demon probably helped. "so don't get any stupid ideas. i would've signed twice over yours and romance's dumb faces if i could."

@moonsmourning - for abby ! starter call. 53. a flustered starter

[moonsmourning]

her arms remain linked around her friends, smile still wide, hopeful, even. yes, they were granted their much-needed break, and zoey was so excited to do absolutely nothing. but after fifteen minutes of sitting on her bottom, she got bored. and thus the various amounts of fun activities they could do ran through her mind as she scrolled through her phone. one in particular took her fancy, and she's working on warming mira up to the idea. ❝ aw, come on! i ordered all the ingredients a few days ago as well, they've just been sitting there! ❞ gesturing over towards the large attached kitchen, there are various ingredients and cooking utensils laid out, all ready for zoey to convince mira into making cupcakes with her. ❝ ... you can even lick the bowl. ❞

"i can't. and i also won't. you will literally have to drag me off of this couch to get me to do anything other than just lay here for the next seven hours." their fearless leader had, shockingly, agreed that a break this time around would actually be a break. ( she wouldn't have argued otherwise, but mira knew that rumi needed one a little more than her or zoey ). no previously undiscussed new song releases or anything like that. mira was hellbent on making the most out of the relaxation period from start to finish. "unless it's the end of humanity as we know it again, i am staying right where i am, zoey."

@moonsmourning - for zoey ! starter call. 24. a lazy starter

[moonsmourning]

@diaboeli: hard to say goodbye when we're having fun. ( romance @ zoey )

one of the major parts of being an idol was promotion and showing face. that meant attending events, going on variety shows, podcasts, and even some interviews and youtube channels. when zoey got the invitation to guest on a show, there was no need to even think about it - of course she'd go! however, when she saw who else walked out to share the spotlight with her, she couldn't help the low grumble that rumbled through the mic attached to her top, leaving the audience staring at her in complete bewilderment.

a saja boy! the romantic one, at that!

essentially, it was a question-and-answer session while the two partook in some games, tried foreign snacks, and messed around with cosmetic products. if you told zoey she'd be on this show doing one of the saja boys' makeup, she'd had laughed. yet, here she was. even if the time they spent together on camera and in front of the fans was fake, she'd actually had a lot of fun.

" hard to say goodbye when we're having fun. "

her forefinger and thumb hold his chin in a gentle pinch while her other hand holds the liquid eyeliner pen carefully, soft, caramel hues narrowing slightly at the demon before her while the saja boys single ' soda pop ' plays in the background so they weren't sitting in silence in between the moments zoey had to concentrate on his makeup. turning him into a huntrix, as the fans requested, was proving quite hard, especially since the urge to stab him in the eye or get lost in his eyes was constantly clashing with one another.

he'd gone and said that directly into his mic as well, stirring the pot like she expected from a demon. luckily, she had a perfect response. ❝ then we won't say goodbye! since we're having so much fun, we can hang out after the show! ❞ the audience erupts into fits of screaming and cheering, the small collect group of fans who ship them two, specifically, giggling and going insane. ❝ i have a present for you anyway. six of them. ❞