#⊰ ☠ || ▰ THOUGHTS FROM THE SHADOWS ▰ ( musings. ) ⊱

[maxparkhurst]

☠ - DEATH - the closest it’s come to touching their life

Max peered over her shoulder, watching rain tap against the glass. A distant roll of thunder filled the silence following the Guest’s question. And a crack of lightning dazzled the parlor, casting dark shadows across the walls. As if on cue, a door opened. The shade lingered in the threshold for a moment before stepping into the hearth’s warm glow. Augustine donned a gentle smile as he drifted towards the twin armchairs. With him, he carried a tea tray: three mugs and a pot of coffee to share. 

“Death felt like a distant companion,” Max confessed, gaze flitting towards her brother. Augustine’s smile didn’t waver as he placed a mug and a pale, white lozenge at her elbow. “Always lurking but never coming close. Except for once. It came dangerously close. Once.” 

She tucked the lozenge under her tongue and washed it down with a ginger sip of coffee. The cup lingered at her lips. And her gaze searched for the Guest’s over the rim. “I needed to attend to business in Boralus,” she mused, the phrase tasting familiar with how often she spoke it, “And during my stay, things turned… Complicated.” 

Max allowed the Guest to draw whatever conclusions they wished from her momentary pause. During which, she placed the cup on the side table and beckoned her brother. Augustine’s gaze turned downward as he stepped from her chair’s shadow. He massaged the wrist of his offhand, fingers flexing in the black glove he wore. His smile faded into a melancholy vintage - soft and dark as the hearth’s smoke- as his sister spoke. 

“I owe my brother my life. If it were not for his intervention, I’d perhaps not be here to regale you with these tales.” Max gave a thoughtful nod. Then sighed before continuing. “But you did not ask for my survival. You asked for my dance with death.”

“You’d think it’d be harrowing- being met with your mortality…” A gentle smile creased her eyes. 

“But it was quiet. Very quiet. And there was no fear in my heart.” 

She suddenly paused. Blinked. Then barked a humorless laugh. “No. That’s not quite right,” -she wagged a finger- “There was one fear. A single thought that existed outside of the rest. The maybe… The happenstance of what would come should another hear.” 

Max shook her head, sinking further into the armchair. “I was so certain of my demise, that I made a hasty decision.” Her cordial smile turned sour. "One that might be considered selfish.” Her gaze snapped over to the Guest, “For I believed I’d not be alive to face the consequences of it.”  Thanks for the ask @asharinhun & @zeehva!

[godstrain]

☠ › @darckcarnival › Send “☠” for my muse to tell your’s a bad memory.

wesker's not one to open up- certainly not like this. he's never encountered her before, and yet there's something painfully familiar. rather, he knows the feeling- like something out of place.

he'd never been one to think much of legends, but he'd seen hell- he'd made hell, too. and he learned that things could die and come back. there were ghosts of the past, there were things that still walked when they belonged beneath the ground. there were monsters, and most of them wore the faces of humans.

wasn't he one of those, too? a monster wearing a human face- something shaped by another monster (and he'd thought, once, that he'd broken free of that- he would make his own way, and yet!) made from the broken pieces of a boy who had lost everything far too soon-

ah, yes, with all that he's now lived through (existed through / he has never lived a life of his own, has he? a mirror of someone else / he's still made of broken shards and he can't figure out how to put them back together), he can't find it in himself to really be surprised seeing her. a shadow that had sought to protect when he'd wished to destroy. he wasn't stupid, after all. nothing went truly unnoticed.

❝ how long were you watching? ❞ he begins, distant- because he'd rather be anywhere else but here- ❝ making your moves, small as they were- how long did you watch? ❞ what he wants to ask is when i was dragged kicking and screaming to unfamiliar rooms- when i knew one hundred children just like me- one hundred turned rather quickly into thirteen and then to two- where were the heroes to save us? where were the heroes to save me?

but he won't, because he's stubborn and angry and no matter what answer he gets, it won't change what was done to him, what he did to others. it won't fix the hollow feeling in his chest (left over from the nagging anxiety that plagued him until that old man's death). it won't bring back his parents or the person he was supposed to be / it won't absolve him of his sins- he won't ask out loud, but his eyes glow with that agony / unfamiliar guilt and loneliness, and there's nothing to hide that, now. he has to build his walls back up from scratch and face the consequences alone because there are no heroes for him-

[hellsurvivr]

@mythosisms  :    “ ☠  five times my muse thought about hitting yours, and the one time they did. .  ”    ⏤    MEME :   still  accepting  .

ONE

                 the first time, payne felt like hitting Cassian was the day she met him, rage was pulsing like a wild animal inside of her. blood sticking to her fingers like a second skin as she stared down at the dead body at her feet with wild eyes. he had appeared like some twisted angel, grinning from ear to ear and relishing in her situation. she could have handled that, blinked and ignored him, but of course he had to open her mouth. proving her thoughts right, that the hot ones were assholes. and the urge to hit him had grown more and more with every second spent in his presence. her tattooed fingers itching with the urge to deliver the hit, the one she kept threatening to do. but she resisted, how she didn't know, and honestly she should pat herself on the back for such restraint. and when she finally walked away from him, stopping him from getting under her skin, she found regret pulsing deep in her veins. as oh his smug smile was haunting behind her eyes, taunting her. and she regrets not punching it off his face.

TWO

                 the second time, she isn't sure how he finds her. but once more he saunters out of the shadows, taunting her, calling her 'little demon'. and payne has to trap a deep growl in the crevices of her chest. there was no blood on her hands this time, yet she could feel the rage inside of her almost growing in proportion. and knew he was messing with her [ enjoying what he could do like it's a game ]. and she swears in a multitude of languages, with an intensity that would have made her deceased catholic raised mother blush. her hazel eyes watching him, as images bloom behind her eyes of how many ways she could make him hurt. her inner darkness calling to her, taunting her, daring her to give in and make him hurt. make him regret what he was doing to her, that messing with her had repercussions that no one was prepared for. but she doesn't. instead she traps it all down, shuts it off till she feels nothing and returns her gaze to her drawing. the pencil moving smoothly along the canvas even as he talked. and despite not hitting him, as much as she craved it. she takes solace in the fact she won either way, simply by ignoring him.

THREE

                 the third time, found her unsurprised that he found her once more. she'd moved from the last town and had now settled deep into the city of boston once more. the apartment she owned belonging to deeks and given to her under good will, just like her old job at his club once more. and its as she's closing up, securing the fortress that deeks believed in for security when she feels the distinct feeling of being watched. and with a quick glance over her shoulder, she sees who it is. HIM. looking at her once more with that damned smug look on his face. she's ready to ignore him, to finish what she was doing and go home for some well deserved rest. but then he opens that damned mouth of his and says one name. 'Drakos'. the name of her first lover, the one who had gotten her out of hell that first time. and she finds her anger returning, a dark beast that rears in her chest and threatens to consume everything. fire erupting around her, stinging the wood of the doorway she stood in as she looked at him with dark eyes. told him to fuck off before she made him. she expected him to fight, to argue but with a smug smile and a deep wink, he left. as though he had gotten the response he wanted. and yet as she watched him. payne ached. ached with once more not slamming her fist as far as it could go into his face. a missed opportunity once more.

FOUR

                 the fourth time, its just her and deeks in the club. her friend busy in his office tallying up the nights earnings, as she sorted the bar and made a list of the needed things for the next day. and as she felt her skin bloom under someone's gaze. she knows immediately who it is and doesn't even attempt to hid the eye roll she lets out. instead she returns her focus to what she's doing. letting the pen twirl between her tattooed fingers as she barely spares him a glance. it was annoying, the way he could watch her so damn calmly without saying a single word. but what was worse, was the way she had to fight her own body, the feeling of him messing with her emotions. messing with her sin. it has a sigh leaving her lips before she looks up at him, asks why he seems to always annoy her when she's on her own. it's his response that has her wanting to hit him. the pen breaking in her hand with how hard she clenched it. that urge once more rearing its head for her to hit him. instead she vaults over the bar, stepping into his personal space and tells him to kindly go fuck a crucifix, before heading to deeks' office. the one place she knew she'd get some peace. away from her tormentor.

FIVE

                 the fifth time, she's bleeding out against a wall. around her was the dead bodies of her fathers mercenaries. they carried his symbol. the symbol of 'aamon' the knight of hell, or prince of hell depending on your literature. and as she watches his eyes trail over the dead bodies, reading the symbol she knows he now knew the bloodline she belonged too. after all she herself knew it after extensive digging, the way the whispers had spread over 30 years ago in hell that aamon had succeeded in fathering two half demons. and anyone wit a brain cell could put the pieces together and realise Payne was one of those. she waits, waits for his condemnation. but she should have known by now. he wasn't that type. oh no instead he takes the opportunity to tease her. the taunt 'princess' dripping from his lips like the most toxic poison. and she can feel the urge to hit him. but she can't. she was injured and her healing was moving far slower than it should. and as she opens her mouth to speak, she feels the darkness encroaching, her tongue turning to led in her mouth before she finally gives in. and when she wakes, she's healed and he is gone. if it wasn't for the new scar on her stomach she'd have thought it was a dream, but it isn't. she can still hear the taunting way he'd called her princess. but he was gone. as is the opportunity to hit him. and it only adds to the regret. one day she'd do it, and finally savour in the victory of shutting him up. finally.

THE TIME SHE FINALLY HITS HIM.

                 she'd one again moved, having to escape the fact her fathers agents had found her. and this time she was in some bumfuck town that she couldn't even remember. her hands busy stacking the shelves of the one bar in town, as the moon moved steadily across the sky, signalling how late it was. and then comes that feeling. the feeling of him behind her once more. lowering the glass in her hand, she drags in a deep breathe before moving, using every inch of her speed to turn and run at hi. her fist clenching, and soon hitting him square in the face. the sound of the impact like the sweetest music she ever heard. and due to the force to which she hit him, he crashes to the floor. her hazel eyes shining with amusement as sh looks down at him, the ache in her hand like the sweetest release she'd ever felt. months and months of pent up anger towards him finally allowed to breathe and roam in one hit. and with a taunting smirk on her face, she allows one sentence to fall from her lips. ❝  did you miss me asshole?.  ❞ and with a parting wink, so reminiscent of him. she turns and walks out the bar. finally feeling happy. finally feeling like herself once more.

[neverwavers]

out of cards: so none of my tags have been working, which means ig it’s time for a new tag drop! also a new dynamic tag for @praeteritus-memories‘ Ryou and Bakura ^^

♦ VISAGE → so many masks but which one is the real ‘‘you’‘? ♦ MUSINGS → thoughts that swirl around a tumultuous mind. ♦ MANNERISMS → the way she holds herself; the sight of a proper lady but even more lies within. ♦ AETHESTICS → what may appear as a materialistic desire is anything but. ♦ CARDS → what helps her excel on the high-stakes battlefield. ♦ WARDROBE → illuminate the sky with your ephemeral beauty. ♦ ABILITIES → some may call you a jill of all trades with your many skills. ♦ ALLIES → you are never alone; at least someone has your back. ☠ VISAGE → behold the sight of the monster within; she who has a venomous gaze in hateful eyes for the world itself. ☠ MUSINGS → what thoughts come from such a burning desire to see the world crumble at your feet? ☠ MANNERISMS → such cruelty & malice are reflected in these actions; watch yourself for she might tear you asunder. ☠ AESTHETICS → such a rich taste for the finer things in life; why should she settle for anything less than what’s suited for a queen? ☠ CARDS → mere tools so as to secure a win from impossible situations. ☠ WARDROBE → wrap yourself in garments that are made for royalty; settle for nothing less. ☠ ABILITIES → strike swift & fast from the shadows themselves for no one will be able to keep track of you. ♦ MEMES → it’s all fun & games here! ♦ VERSE → battle city. ♦ VERSE → doma. ♦ VERSE → post-doma. ♦ VERSE → dark side of dimensions. ♦ VERSE → post-dsod. ♦ OUT OF CARDS → the duel is over! you have lost the game! ♦ DYN / praeteriterus-memories: even death won't separate us for our souls are forever intertwined by the sands of time.

[bxttenbound-archive]

@whispersofmusic​ asked: ☠ - Darius the head witch of the Abomination Coven. | P.S. he loves his clothes and fancy accessories above all else |

SEND A “☠” TO WITNESS MY MUSE KILL SOMEONE. ADD A CHARACTER FOR A SPECIFIC KILLING

One of those dreadful coven leader’s was on her list for that evening? This would be fun. With Raine having given her the location of such a man she was set out to play a game with him. Studying his abilities based on what information she could gain about him from a short amount of time before striking. No kind of transformation of the body could ever stop her little monsters and tonight they were feeling particularly hungry. Scurrying under her skin they were brimming with energy as she released them into the shadows around where he was. Second by second, they would dart from dark spot to dark spot until finally they would latch onto some insignificant part of him. Digging under his cloths and quickly beginning their dastardly plan it would start off simple.

Madness was something that always started off simple, easily ignored. A few hushed whispers, a few well placed shadows at the corner of his eye. The creatures she infected him with would go straight to his mind, gnawing at it, tearing it apart throughout the evening until he would feel an overwhelming sense of dread at nothing. It was fun to watch them fall, to see them succumb to their own insanity.

Missi had no control over what he saw nor what aliments plagued his slowly deteriorating mind. When she thought he was just right Missi would step out from her hiding spot that Raine had brought them both to. Having been with him the entire time that he spiraled down further into his maddened space. “ A little birdy had sung such a lovely song about you. “ She’d speak softly, welcoming, sickeningly so venom was dripping from her words. “ And that little songbird said you were becoming a problem so I must ensure you do not utter another hiss, Darling. A clever little snake you had been but it’s time for your show to end. “

The fight itself was difficult, or it looked that way. With how those creatures were messing with his mind by this point she was having an easy time fooling him with a well placed doppelganger made from her magic until she was able to get close enough. Even if he bothered to transform into his abominable state she knew under that abomination was the sweet taste of flesh. His magic kept him transformed but if he was dead, well, it didn’t matter how big he grew or what he turned into.

And so she would, with the combined efforts of his deteriorated mental state and her own powerful magic would call once more for her shadow self and send it stabbing through the abominated man’s neck. Cutting through him completely down to the skeletal figure of him beneath the magic. Beheading him and severing his chance of healing the wound. Quickly without his brain attached to the body the magic would dissipate, leaving behind the beheaded body of the once great coven leader with blood pouring out of the body and head.

Turning back to look at Raine, she grinned. “ Do you mind if sample him? I’ve been curious about how your kind tastes. “

[irrfahrer]

☠

My muse had fallen unconcious in a deadly situation, yours has been kind enough to carry them to safety. Send me a ☠ for their reaction to waking up in your character’s arms.

It had started to rain- the water that had collected on the metalsky above drooped down, uncomfortably hot and uncomfortably black from all the soot that had sticked to the walls and high ceiling. The thick, sticky drops had been what had woken Ziv up, hitting the sensitive edges of her whiskers and making it feel as if hot needles would stitch into her snout. “Uuugh, kriffing....”, the young woman pressed out between jaws that felt as heavy as if made of durasteel. She blinked her swollen eyes open and was met with a gray sky made of steel and no sun but the bright artificial lights that stabbed into her eyes brutally and made her squirm as if she had just been hit. The alleyway was narrow and thick beams of duracrete drew thick shadows on the ground and created little islands of soothing shadow that were better for the Tynnans aching head and eyes. She was carried, Ziv realized at the edge of her mind that felt slow and as if wrapped into wool. The young woman knew hat she had been in the rooms h used as a treatment room bcause she always was in theat room and she rememberd blasterfire because the scent of burned ozone still sticked to her whiskers like a parfume, but she did not knew who had shot and who had been shot at. She did not rememberd, Ziv noticed without a single emotion sticking to it like one would notice a strange but not specially bad inconvienience and this emotionlessness would have scared her if she would not have been so tiered, so exhausted, so much in pain. She was in a state of shock, Ziv noticed at the far end of her mind and the medic she was scolded her head for beeing so slow and aching when she should know better already. She did not liked beeing carried, Ziv knew at the edge of her mind but the thought was so far away from herself right now that she could not act after it and instead only lay in Vis arms like a movelss linen puppet.

“...You know-”, Ziv started and tried to sat up in the others arms but a sharp pain stabbing like a broiling blade through her temples made her sink back against the other again limp and weakly: ”... I have totally no Kriff against waking up in someones strong arms with my head against some amazing biceps- compliment very much intended, good kriffing work there, pup,believe me I know what I am talking about, Force Bless- but usually that includes me and them beeing horizontally on a kriffing bed and in private and not on the kriffing open street, like what the actual Kriff-” She opened her eyes and her head hurted, she closed her eyes and her head hurted, whatever she did her head hurted and Ziv couldn't figure out why for if she tried to remember there was nothing but a big black, hungry hole where her memory of the last hours should have been. She was hurting too much to be worried about this lack of memory made eventualyl, finally, a blade of worry turn in her guts.   Through squinted eyes the young woman looked up, but all she could see was the blurrs of pink and black and whites circling each other in something that looked like a whirl, where the others face was. She opened her mouth and drops of bitter tasting, black rainwater dyed by soot dripped into her mouth and made her grimace as if she had bitten on a sour fruit as she spit it out just like her next, strained word: “-happned...?”

[ @stubborn-amphibian ]

[sadistgalore]

☠, ✿, ♡, ▼, ൠ for Dark? (Sorry it's a lot I'm curious)

oh you’re totally fine!! getting a bunch of asks is literally my favorite thing don’t worry about it. from this ask game, i would love more!

——

☠️: angry/violent headcanon

Dark is usually a calm person, but he gets jealous very easily and has an unhealthy attraction to things that give him happiness. For example, when he was married to Evelyn, anyone that would even look at his precious wife would be lucky if all Dark did was break their arm. Whenever he thinks someone is trying to take something that he loves away, he gets very jealous and violent. (you can see another example of it when Harper accidentally broke Evelyn’s vase in “Prompt: Strangle My Muse” and Dark literally impales her with the broken china of the vase)

✿: sex headcanon

Dark is one kinky bastard, as you can already tell. Something that he won’t tell you, though, is that him and Evelyn did a lot of roleplaying with Evie being a sexy femdom and him being a needy sub. Most of the time, he is a manipulative dom who loves to humiliate his subs.

♡: romantic headcanon

Dark was never a romantic person until he met Evelyn, and they did not get along at first. He was still his misogynistic self, and she was a rich psycho brat. Once they did start dating, he was always super nervous and shy, but still managed to get sweet gifts for his girlfriend. On their one year anniversary, he was planning on proposing to her, but ended up backing out because he was too nervous.

▼: childhood headcanon

When he was around nine, one of Dark’s younger brothers mysteriously disappeared. The entire town searched for him for three months, until Dark’s older brother noticed a strange smell coming from their treehouse. The younger brother’s body was found there, and the cause of death was asphyxiation. No one found who did it, but Dark’s mother sent her nine year old son away to boarding academies quickly after.

ൠ: random headcanon

Dark loves to read, and always thought that intelligence was more important than strength. Therefore, he is very good at strategizing the best ways to distribute weapons undetected, and why he was able to remain hidden in the shadows for so long.

[ravusnightblossom]

alt! <33

— Send me “alt!” and I’ll introduce you to a character I’ve roleplayed in the past, want to play in the future, or are currently playing somewhere else! 

“Reaper” / Gabriel Reyes (past muse)   @origami-assassin

《 ― ☠ ― 》    They had all thought him dead for years... 

Really, it was easier that way. It was better when they believed him dead. 

He was, in a matter of speaking. The part of him once loyal, once housing of compassion and virtue was diseased, buried deep in the darkest recesses, never to see the light of day again. He was a shadow of his former self, a hollow vessel bent on revenge and annihilation of everything that he once held dear. 

They had done this to him. It was their sentence for him to carry out. Death would follow them all until he claimed what now belonged to him. What he deserved. 

The dust began to settle amidst the rubble of the fallen building, the air still carrying the scent of gunpowder and ash. Plumes of smoke rose to touch the sky. Sirens blared in the distance, barreling toward the destruction that laid waste in the center of the city. 

Unlike the smoke of burning cinder, a sheet of black mist slid from the chaos, slithering along the ground, snaking past the feet of bystanders that had come rushing to see the aftermath of the explosion. Past the cloud, the shadowy smoke rose, forming the silhouette of his very being. His boots fell heavy, yet soundless, over crumbled wood and shards of broken glass. 

Another had fallen at his hands. Satisfaction filled his twisted mind, ignoring the memory of the screams from all the innocents who had fallen in the process of him getting what he craved. 

Another... 

There were still more. He would come for them all. Death would find them as the Reaper’s mask looked down upon them while they took their last breaths and relinquished their souls to sustain him. He hungered for them, and he would have them all...              

[warrioroflondonbelow]

☠ (ahaha give me the aaaaaaangst!)

My muse had fallen unconcious in a deadly situation, yours has been kind enough to carry them to safety. Send me a ☠ for their reaction to waking up in your character’s arms: Accepting

( @ericbrandonrp )

Blackness was beginning to fade. Richard’s numbness was subsiding only to be replaced by a throbbing pain in his head; Not only that, but a blue-purple-flower of pain was beginning to blossom on his right arm. And yet, among all of the discomfort and blurry vision, Richard felt something else. Somebody carrying him? “Everythin’ hurts,” he let out a practically inaudible groan.

“You followed me,” hissed Eric, letting out a short breath as he propped Richard up once more, who was being carried on his back. The Hufflepuff was heavier than he looked. “Why did you have to follow me, Rich?” 

That’s right. It was all coming back now. It was the wee hours of the morning and Richard woke up to find Eric swiftly and quietly sneak out of his bed and out of the Hendrix’s home. Making sure to be cloaked by the shadows, the Hufflepuff followed his friend to what looked like an abandoned and decrepit looking house. That’s where he saw it. Eric, and Emilia having a meeting of sorts with four other masked figures. Keeping his wand at the ready, and his ear pressed to the door, he heard hushed whispers. They weren’t full sentences, but he managed to catch just enough. Something about ‘The mark’, ‘The Dark Lord’, and how ‘He was coming.’ Before the Hufflepuff could listen in on anything else, his cover was blown. One of the masked figures threw a spell his way. Richard cast a spell back. A figure from behind hit him with a curse that practically tossed him across the room, making him smash into a nearby wooden table. Thus, the terrible headache and pained arm. Richard just hoped it wasn’t broken.

“I had to,” said Richard, weakly, doing his best to fight the sense of nausea rising in his gut. 

“Yeah, and look at what happened!” Richard should count his blessings. Eric knew that if the others had their way, one of them would’ve thrown something a lot worse than the Cruciatus Curse. “Reckless,” he spat. “Why the feck’ do you have to be so bloody reckless sometimes, Rich?”

“You sound a lot like my father now.”

“Yeah, well have you ever thought that he’s right sometimes?- Why did you have to follow me?” Eric was muttering something about how Richard was such an idiot, but Richard was doing his best to ignore him.

“Y’know if yer’ so pissed off you could have just left me. I didn’t ask to be saved by you.”

A beat. “Y’know I couldn’t have just done that….”

“You could have.”

“But I didn’t.”

“…. Well, thanks anyways,” mumbled Richard. Fragile silence formed a glass wall between the two of them. A glass wall that was just begging to be shattered. “So, who were those people, the ones in the cloaks?”

Eric could feel his throat dry up. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Rich,” he replied, hoarsely. 

Richard’s brows furrowed. Anger was beginning to fountain up inside of him. “Don’t lie to me, Eric. Ever since the start of the year you’ve done nothin’ but lie to Pheli and I. I’m sick of it! We deserve at least some answers from you, damn it!”

“Shh! Keep your voice down!”

“I won’t! Not until you tell me who the hell those people were!”

“Stop squirmin’ so much! It’s hard enough I have to haul you back to Pheli’s house.” Both of them knew Eric was simply evading his questions, and yet despite that Richard already knew what was going on. He just wanted to hear the truth right from the horse’s mouth. 

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” asked Eric, rather frustratedly. The two were beginning to approach The Hendrix’s home. “I already told you I couldn’t have just left you there-”

“No. This. I know you know what I’m talkin’ about, Eric. And don’t try to ignore me, I know you can hear me.” A beat. “You don’t have to go down this path, Eric. There’s still time to turn back. You don’t have to do this.” Richard could feel the Slytherin boy’s muscles tense up. “I’m just worried about you, mate….”

“….. Let’s focus on gettin’ your arm fixed up, a’right?”