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fuck it, clea is getting her own blog too blame @klarsynt
#𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 ╲ ooc.#nothing is happening here so its just gonna be a place for npcs and like??? ocassional writing i guess??#idk
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olivia holt
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she doesn’t rule with words — she rules with silence, with the weight of her presence, with the knowledge that defiance is never without consequence. ONYX isn’t just an empire; it’s an unspoken law, etched in the veins of gotham itself. those who stand with her rise. those who stand against her disappear. ⸻ 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠, 𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲.
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took me half an hour to answer this for myself
really feeling juliana so what if i give her a solo
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really feeling juliana so what if i give her a solo
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let my kids kiss ur kids
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elias swallowed hard, his throat tight as he forced the words past his lips, though they came out hoarse & jagged. ❝i thought you were dead, ❞ he muttered, as if saying it out loud would somehow make sense of the impossible. his body went stiff, a thousand questions swirling in his mind, but none of them could form clearly enough to ask. he took a hesitant step back, his gaze fixed on her as though afraid she might disappear if he blinked. ❝i buried you, allison. i buried you. . . & i had to move on. i had no choice. ❞ his voice caught in his chest, the weight of those years without her pressing down on him with a suffocating force. he clenched his fists, the faint burn of old scars digging into his skin. ❝i had to. ❞
the words were coming too fast now, & the familiar rush of anger, confusion, & guilt all mixed together in a storm he couldn't control. his sharp, steady gaze faltered for just a moment, his mind scrambling for any logical explanation. ❝i don’t — i don’t understand. you were a ghost to me, allison. i had to. . . pretend you were gone for good. for so long, i thought you were. & now. . . ❞ he shook his head, disbelief clear in the lines of his face. he ran a hand through his hair, the movement almost mechanical, like he was trying to get his bearings again. he hated this feeling of vulnerability, of being caught off guard, but she’d managed to break through his defenses with nothing more than her presence.
for a moment, he was quiet, as if struggling to process it all. his jaw tightened as his eyes locked onto hers, searching for any answer, any explanation. the part of him that held tight to his principles — the part of him that kept everything in order, every situation mapped out — was failing him. ❝i don’t know what to do with this, ❞ he admitted quietly, his voice almost breaking. ❝but i’m not going to let you just walk away again. not after everything.❞ his tone softened, his emotions betraying the hard edge he usually kept.
continued from 🤍 ╱ @sidecrime .
DEATH WAS INEVITABLE , FINAL. though , the flesh coiled around muscle & bone proved otherwise. the blood that pumped through veins & BEATING heart were a true sentiment that allison argent was very much ALIVE. how ? how in the hell was this even possible ? to be brought back from the dead , nonetheless. the woman had so many unanswered questions — but the shockwaves of it all hadn’t subsided just yet.
the first person that came to mind was him. elias & her shared a history so deep , that not even death could tear them apart ( allegedly. ) allison was so wrapped up in the idea of seeking comfort from the last person who had shown her kindness , warmth , LOVE — that she didn’t even plan what to say , what explanation to give. truthfully , she was confused by the whole ordeal herself & didn’t have any adequate answers.
so there she stood , a ghost from the past — quiet & utterly frozen as honey colored hues stare into those familiar eyes. god, how she had missed him. the male appeared a bit different from what she’d remembered , more worn. lines upon forehead had deepened , bags underneath eyes held a weariness that wasn’t quite there before. i thought you were dead , i never thought i’d see you again. his words cause a pang of GUILT & sadness to wash over her. “i know..” was all she could muster while allowing him to gain his bearings & come to terms with the startling revelation of it all. the brunette attempts to find the words to ease his mind , but ends up falling short. so instead , she pulls him in for a tight — heartfelt embrace. “i’m here , elias.” she utters in a tone barely above a whisper while hand comes up to cradle the back of his neck. “i have no fucking idea how , but i’m here.”
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𝐂𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒
full name: cecelia morales nickname(s): cee, la madrina (used sarcastically by some) age: 25 height: 5'1" (but carries herself like she’s 6’0”) ethnicity: mexican-american eye color: dark brown, sharp and observant hair: black, often tied back or styled sleekly occupation: smuggler, middlewoman, street-level fixer trying to move up DISTINGUISHED MARKS › a thin scar along her jaw from a close call with a knife fight › a small tattoo on her wrist: a hummingbird, symbolizing resilience and movement › slight burn marks on her fingers from tampering with contraband
PERSONALITY & TRAITS mbti: entj – the commander (bold, strategic, thrives in chaos) enneagram: type 8 – the challenger (assertive, driven, hates being controlled) temperament: choleric – quick-witted, fiery, and unafraid of confrontation mannerisms: talks fast but enunciates every word, making sure people hear her. tilts her head slightly when sizing someone up. keeps her hands in her pockets when standing still — always hiding what she’s holding. smirks when she’s winning a conversation. CORE TRAITS ✅ clever, street-smart, ambitious, adaptable, resourceful ❌ reckless, arrogant, trusts the wrong people, doesn’t know when to back down
BACKGROUND & HISTORY› celia grew up in the cauldron, gotham’s roughest, most overlooked district, where crime is currency and cops don’t bother showing up. her father was a small-time smuggler who vanished without a trace when she was 12 — either dead or locked up. her mother, a seamstress, did her best to keep cee away from that life, but by 16, cee was already running minor jobs for gotham’s underbelly.
› she started as a runner— fake ids, stolen goods, messages between gangsters. she learned how to talk, how to disappear, how to read a room before someone pulls a gun. by 21, she wasn’t just running errands—she was orchestrating deals, acting as the middlewoman for buyers and suppliers too paranoid to meet in person.
› now, at 25, she’s got a foot in the door of gotham’s criminal elite — but she’s still just a name on their contact lists, not a power player. she’s ambitious, but ambition in gotham gets people shot, burned, or buried.
SKILLS & ABILITIES › smuggling & fencing – moves illegal goods efficiently and discreetly. › negotiation & persuasion – can talk her way into (or out of) almost anything. › forgery & id tampering – expert at fake passports, documents, and alibis › lockpicking & safecracking – if it has a lock, she can open it.
EQUIPMENT & TOOLS. › custom-built burner phone – always has multiple, always encrypted. › lockpick set – small, hidden in a cigarette tin. › silenced pistol (glock 43) – not flashy, but effective. › fake ids & documents – including several backup identities.
PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE. greatest strength: adapts fast —no matter the situation, she finds a way to survive. greatest weakness: too ambitious for her own good — she doesn’t know when to walk away. deepest fear: ending up like her father — dead or disappeared, forgotten in the system. moral code: no senseless violence, no working with traffickers— but everything else is fair game.
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⌖ : 𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑚 𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘
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anyway if you ever want me to write an affiliated oc all you have to do is say it cause yes
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JENNA ORTEGA at the Christian Dior show during Paris Fashion Week, January 27 (2025)
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ok writing starters here later for real, & then maybe memes.
#𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 ╲ ooc.#i have replies to format on karen but then ill be here#i mean after work bc i stil have an hour of that
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rina stood there, watching him with that trademark look in her eyes — a combination of amusement & resolve. she knew the grin was coming long before it spread across his face, taking over almost every inch of it. he was always like this when it came to her: too eager, too caring, in a way that somehow still made her heart skip. she didn’t need luck. she didn’t need protection. she’d survived this long on her own terms, & she wasn’t about to stop now. but the way he looked at her, the way his thumb gently stroked the back of her hand, made her think twice. for a moment, she allowed herself to be disarmed. his words — the soft, reassuring ones, mixed with that ever-present country drawl — sent a warmth through her chest that was impossible to ignore.
❝yeah, yeah, i know, ❞ she muttered, her lips curling into a small smile despite herself. she could feel his fingers tugging her closer, the silent invitation that she couldn’t resist even if she wanted to. she stepped in, pressing her lips to his for that fleeting moment, just long enough for him to pull away & flash that knowing grin of his. ❝you really think this little trinket’s gonna keep me safe?❞ she teased, arching a brow as she pulled back, eyes flickering with that usual sharpness. she couldn’t quite place it, but for some reason, with him, it was easier to let her guard slip, if only for a second.
HE CAN HARDLY CONTAIN the cheesy grin that takes up almost half of his face — especially when it comes to her. he’s more than aware rina can hold her own. hell , he’s witnessed that FIRE burn relentlessly through those big beautiful eyes more times than he can count. yet still , he wants to ensure her safety. even with something as silly as a good luck charm.
“i know ya will.” he reassures while reaching out & taking her hand into his own , thumb stroking against soft skin. “but i can sleep a little better now that ya got a small token of LUCK with you.” that country accent peeked through every now & then , a reminder of his texas roots ( in case he ever forgot. ) pointer finger beckons her closer to steal one more kiss before she disappears on him. “ya forgot somethin’ , darlin’.” a half smile tugging against the corner of mouth as he searches for her reaction.
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comment for a starter from juliana or nadja.
#𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 ╲ ooc.#gonna try to do things here tonight i get dISTRACTED bc once annie and i start talking it just takes over okay
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clea could feel the tension in him like a live wire, thrumming beneath her fingers as she traced slow, deliberate paths over his shoulders, his neck, the sharp cut of his jaw. his silence was deafening, but she did not falter. she moved closer, her heat pressed against his form, until her breath tangled with his in the hush between heartbeats. her lashes fluttered as she looked up at him, unguarded, her lips parting — not for words, but for him. for the ache between them that had no language, only feeling.
the first kiss was a whisper, a hesitant prayer against his lips, tasting of longing, of uncertainty. she pressed into it, slow & aching, & for a moment, he was still — so still she thought he might pull away, might vanish into himself again. but then breaths hitched, & the dam broke. his hands, hesitant before, found her waist, fingers digging in like he needed something solid to hold on to.
she kissed him like she was afraid he might slip through her fingers, her lips moved against his with slow, bruising intensity, deepening with every stolen breath. clea melted into him, her fingers sliding into his hair, nails dragging over his scalp as she pulled him closer, closer, until there was no space left between them. the kiss grew frantic, their bodies pressing together in the desperate way of people who had forgotten everything but this — heat & breath & the sheer, aching need to be held.
she moaned softly against his lips, her own pressing harder, more insistent, her breath hitching as she lost herself in the sensation — the heat of him, the intoxicating nearness, the way his body felt against hers. she let her teeth graze his lower lip, a silent, breathless plea, before she kissed him again, deeper, more consuming. there was no space left between them now, no hesitation, no restraint. just the feverish, aching pull of lips & tongues & breath, a kiss that didn’t end but only grew, unraveling her completely.
𝖆𝖉𝖆𝖒’𝖘 𝖕𝖚𝖑𝖘𝖊 quickened as her breath mingled with his, and he felt the force of her plea reverberating through him. it was raw, desperate. he wanted to pull away, to retreat back to the place where everything was still under control, where his emotions were tightly wound and locked away. but she kept pulling him closer, a force stronger than his will, as if she had found the one way to reach him that no one else could.
her body pressed against his, soft, warm, insistent, and for a moment, he let himself feel it — the weight of her against him, the intensity of her need. it wasn’t just the physical closeness, but something deeper, something more invasive, like she was unearthing parts of him he’d buried long ago. his hands, which had been so rigid and unsure before, now moved on their own, trailing over the curve of her back, her skin like fire beneath his touch. the shiver that passed through her when he touched her, the way she leaned into him — it shook him, the vulnerability in her eyes, in her words, pulling him in like a current he couldn't resist.
the weight of her plea hit him harder than anything else. please. his breath caught in his throat as he met her eyes, desperate, vulnerable, but also filled with a fierce kind of courage. and for a moment, everything inside him wavered. how could he not give her this? how could he not hold her? he wasn't sure if he was capable of giving her what she truly needed, but for now, for this moment, maybe he could give her the one thing she was asking for.
he knew what it really what. that hand reaching for comfort after a nightmare. she wanted a distraction, and adam was the one close enough to give it to her.
his hand found her face again, cupping it gently, as if afraid that holding her too tightly might break something. ❝ i’m here with you. ❞
he couldn’t ever be what she wanted. but he could stay. he could be the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against hers, the warmth of his skin against hers. he could let her forget tonight. then tomorrow, he would worry about everything else tomorrow.
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clea felt the tremor of his body beneath her touch, the way his skin flinched, pulling away from her as though her mere proximity was a force he couldn’t control. a bitter knot of frustration twisted in her stomach, sharp & jagged. it wasn’t just the distance between them, the unspoken walls that seemed to grow taller with each passing second, but the fact that she could feel his heart hammering beneath the surface, fighting the very thing she needed him to embrace. she wanted to pull him closer, drown him in her need, but he was like quicksand, slipping away just as she reached for him.
her fingers, trembling slightly, lingered where they had brushed against his cheek, the delicate, soft touch of her hand belying the hunger that burned in her chest. the heat of him was still there, like an ember she couldn’t put out. her chest felt tight, suffocated by the weight of the silence between them, & she swallowed against the lump in her throat. the way she appeared — soft eyes, tousled hair, lips still curved in that innocent smile — was a mask, an illusion, one she had mastered to perfection. beneath it, though, there was something darker, something older & more intense that ached for him. she could feel that tension between them like the thrum of a cord about to snap, & it made her dizzy, her pulse racing with need.
❝i need you, ❞ she whispered, the words coming out in a shaky breath that trembled with vulnerability. the admission was raw & unpolished, far from the picture-perfect image she tried to project. the fragility of her voice, the softness of her body, made it seem like she was asking for something simple, innocent. but in truth, she was asking for him to tear away the veneer, to see her fully for what she was — someone who wanted to be consumed by the fire they could make together. the ache within her was so deep it felt almost unbearable. she could feel the weight of his gaze on her, & for a moment, she closed her eyes, leaning into the warmth of his presence. she wanted to feel him — every inch of him — because without it, right now it felt like she might shatter into a million pieces.
she reached for him again, this time with more intention, more need. her hand hovered near his, trembling with anticipation, the air between them thick with tension. slowly, she guided his hand toward her, pressing his palm against her cheek, coaxing him to touch her as though it was the only thing that could bring her back to life. ❝you don’t have to fix anything, ❞ she breathed his own words back to him, her voice desperate, but the urgency in it now was for something more. something beyond words. she closed her eyes at the warmth of his skin against hers, a shiver running through her. ❝i just . . . i need you to be here with me. ❞ her fingers traced the back of his hand, urging him to press harder, to feel her, to understand the depth of the yearning that burned in her.
her body ached for him, the craving for closeness so deep that it made her dizzy. her innocent appearance — soft skin, wide eyes, delicate features — seemed to mock the fierce need pulsing through her veins. she wanted him in a way that was primal, that went beyond the sweetness of the girl he saw in front of him. she couldn’t stop herself from pulling him closer, her chest brushing against his, the beat of his heart a steady rhythm against her own. she could feel his breath on her neck, his arms tightening around her just enough to remind her that he hadn’t left yet, that he still was here. but it wasn’t enough. nothing would ever be enough until she could feel him truly, wholly — until he gave her more than just this fragile moment. ❝please, ❞ she whispered, voice breaking, her body pressing desperately into his, a silent plea that she knew he could hear but might never fully understand. ❝touch me. ❞
𝖆𝖉𝖆𝖒 𝖋𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖉 when her fingers brushed his face, his body stiffening at the touch. the sensation of her skin against his was jarring. the heat of her hands pressed into him, and sent an unsettling ripple through his chest, a wave of discomfort he couldn’t push away. his mind scrambled, pulling back from the closeness, from the sensation of her, like an instinctive reaction to the vulnerability she was pulling from him without even trying.
he swallowed hard, turning his face slightly to avoid the lingering pressure of her touch, but he could feel her gaze remained on him, intense and searching. the fragility in her expression, in her actions, made the walls he had spent so long building around himself feel thinner, shakier. his fingers twitched at his sides, the need to do something — anything — to push the unease back, to protect himself from the storm that was beginning to flood his chest.
❝ i — ❞ his voice broke as he tried to speak, but it wasn’t the words that mattered. it was the weight of everything unspoken, the raw, jagged edges of the emotions they were both navigating. he inhaled sharply, as if trying to gather some semblance of control, but his grip on her tightened instead, holding her even closer. ❝ you don’t have to fix anything right now. ❞
he pulled back just enough to see her face, to search her eyes, feeling the weight of her gaze pressing down on him. he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but there was an undeniable pull toward her, an urgency he couldn’t ignore. ❝ just . . . tell me how to help you, ❞ he whispered, his voice barely a breath. ❝ tell me what you need. ❞
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