DARK GOSPEL IN BODY LANGUAGE

[ascensionisms]

𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐌𝐒 | a multi muse featuring original characters. a place to embrace creative freedom, explore dark themes and be on your woo woo shit. all interactions should be with writers and muses that are twenty one plus. mostly focused on supernatural, fantasy, horror or crime based plot lines. kink shamed by B.

𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 | 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 | 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 | 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 | 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 | 𝐎𝐎𝐂

[ascensionisms]

Dom living everyone’s best life real time

[aurora-rph]

Send FMK + plus three characters or muses and my muse will say who they'd fuck, who they'd marry and who they'd kill.

[comeseemydownfall]

– YVONNE WINCKEL/VANA (she/they), 25 years old, singer.

créditez the death of peace of mind.

[dailymusicians]

Sabrina Claudio on Instagram (February 3)

[twerkeira]

[gctfuked]

open to : males 25+ connections : open to any.

swirling her drink in the glass cup. "you think i'll say yes to another date? with you?" she hate being a barrier of bad news. brims releasing a sigh, shutting that second date down for various reasons. it wasn't like the date was terrible, certainly she didn't want to take thing so quick. "besides all you asked is what's my favorite color, twice." taking a sip of her drink. "if you haven't realized yet, i'm rather a free spirit. i need someone who can push and pull me, bend or break me - someone who falls a little on the dark side."

[ascensionisms]

He couldn't help but chuckle. She really thought she had it all figured out and it was far from the actual truth of the matter. Despite himself, the corner of his mouth curled up, trademark worthy grin hinting at it but not fully on display. "Oh so you wanted someone to ask what your favorite scary movie was and show to watch you sleep after?" Asked with a sarcasm that bordered on disrespectful, but Santiago was no one's white knight, never would be. He'd asked her favorite color twice, sure, but that was because he hadn't really been paying attention, and gun to his head? Still couldn't fucking tell you. Amusement bled from him, too casual, too relaxed, for a man that she was trying hard to reject. Shoulders rolled, as if shaking something off. "You talk like you wanna be the main character in a romance novel, but that shit ain't real life and not many people can bend, they just break."

[redemptioninterlude]

now. there he is. the monster wearing human skin, or perhaps it was something else. she's seen so many ways in which science could pervert nature, or better yet, in which nature could continue to ASTOUND her. and while the information on this man managed to remain slim pickings, ada knew well enough to tread well to the line between confident and respectful. just because he looked to be respectful, didn't mean he played remotely by the same set of rules or expectations. assumptions like that were the very thing that allowed for so little about him to leak in all these years.

the hand moves, oh, how it's split. would it remain that way? she wondered, looking at him in that almost detached manner. she's heard things akin to this. that place that had been watched for ages, the house down in that southern swamp. well. at least they're in a place a little less humid and sticky, but who knew? that MOLD had managed to do some interesting things to the people it'd managed to root in. what had taken hold of him? her lips twitch into a smile. "baptiste... french. interesting. tu parle francais?"

that tilt of her head, wondering now, ah~ so perhaps he hadn't always been here, or from here, or had he? this country had such a bloody history thanks to its conquerors... "well, perhaps i'm the one who's wrong in this, but i don't think that little stab wound did much to you at all. or am i simply overestimating you? i don't think so, but, perhaps, that's me GETTING AHEAD of myself. after all. i did say i was here for you. so. baptiste..." his name, rolled around within her mouth, pausing. "do you drink? it's impolite to show up without a gift. i have wine. somehow, i have the feeling that if i'd shared the bottle first, i wouldn't be sitting here~"

★— ATTN: @ascensionisms

[ascensionisms]

He could feel the way that she was actively trying to figure out what was actually going on here, trying to pick apart the secrets, the stories, and find where fact had been artfully hidden within fiction. It was always the same story really, the same soured attempts at unraveling something that was designed to be confusing. His siblings may have invited in the trouble that others could and would cause, but he had always been the lowkey. Most of them had accused him of being boring at least once throughout the centuries, but perhaps that was simply because he didn't lead with the violence that they always seemed to need to lean on. At least, not most of the time.

A nod given at the question about French, before answering in Arabic that should have only been possible for a native speaker, a undertone of Lebanese tucked under tone. Again, intentionally confusing, leading in one direction and then the other. The name was fitting only because it was one that he had stolen, much like most other things. As far as his hand? It healed, sure, but he was making a show of it, slowing it so that it wasn't that overwhelming resealing of flesh and blood. The act was immaculate when you had so long to practice the dramatization.

"That's an awful lot of assuming, they ain't told you that we like manners?" Which we in particular, that he was speaking of, was hard to discern. A raise of those eyebrows, in question surely, looking at her in that expectant way, in the way that said if she wanted something, she was going to have to give a hell of a lot more than a bottle of fucking wine. "Are we splitting that bottle or are you one of those, don't indulge the gifts, types?" Asked genuinely, like he had some kind of wandering want to get to know her, just for the sake of doing so. Chair made that god awful screeching sound against the floor when he pushed it back.

"Or you worried you might tell all Umbrella's secrets if you get to your third glass?"

[mysteryoflovc]

Myles knows that he's pushing her to her limits but he wants to see how far they can go. How close can they get to the cliffs edge before they both tip over? Myles doesn't think there's a limit between them. He will always want her above anyone else, he'd do anything for her even if she's trying to go out with dudes and throw it in his face. His devotion knows no limit even if they're both prone to breaking shit like it'll get their point across. Myles doesn't even need a reason to toss shit out the window. Her laughs solidifies his point in his mind. Jaquelyn could have argued that it wasn't true but she hadn't. Myles can't help the wide grin spreading across his lips at that fact.

"If he really wanted to wouldn't he come over and fight for you? You know that it's just me." Myle is a little surprised she'd been so quiet. Had let him. "Think you wanted me to cancel for you. Been real quiet about it." His tone takes on that familiar teasing lilt. "I don't want sweet right now that's why I'm here on your doorstep." Or was. He's a little on the walkway now but he's not going to her. "Not going to anyone when I got you right in front of me. You know it's always going to be you or no one." Myles takes a step towards her to test the waters. He doesn't mind a black eye but he ain't tryna get his nose broken.

"I ain't lost you. I'm coming in." Myle says it like it's obvious. Of course he's coming in isn't he? She's looking back at him and he comes up the steps just behind her. "Tell me you don't want it. Tell me you don't want to fuck and I'll go home." He won't. "We both know that attitude is all a front. Let me in baby."

[ascensionisms]

"Fight for me? The fuck?" She said as if she was irriated by the thought rather than excited by it, a poor attempt to hide that fact, even if he already knew it, knew it far better than anyone or anything else. "I'm not a fuckin' prize, Myles." Said as if she was offended by the thought that someone, anyone, needed to throw hands just to prove they worthy to touch her, glaring at him for a moment before laughing, laughing too damn loud, at the implication that she wanted him to cancel for her. "So which is it, you don't want sweet right now or it's always me? Cause it can't be both, baby." Pointing out the way whatever he'd just said made absolutely no sense, or at least trying to do enough half assed gaslighting to make it seem that way.

"We both know you just begging to be let in to prove your fucking point and I'm not in the mood to play the game anymore." The phone in her hand was tucked in her pocket, which meant she intentionally had to reach back, maybe intentionally let her hand brush over the front of him, before tucking it in her back pocket. "I don't want to fuck and you can go home." Purposely not saying should, because he was right about that, he was right about a lot of things, things that she did not feel like admitting right now. So, step forward was taken and the door was swung open, stepping past the door frame, but well aware she'd actually have to turn around to close it. "Let me in baby, head ass."

[commonmonsters]

closed for @ascensionisms !!

Troublesome, irritating, and absolutely audacious. There were a plethora of words to describe Ardan, and the demon stood behind each one with a shit-eating grin. He couldn't have cared less about what anyone thought of him, not when Lucifer favored him enough to let him roam freely from the nine hells in a shiny new host body that came with an equally grating accent. He was tasked with locating another being integral to Lucifer's next plan. And what were those plans? Ardan didn't know, nor did he ask any further questions. He was smart enough to know his place. The demon was a well-adorned lapdog, but a lapdog nonetheless. Unfortunately, he wasn't given much of a physical description either. Ardan was told they were an angel, and that he needed to trust his gut. His dark father loved to speak in riddles.

The demon found himself taking a break for the night, drinking down Jameson and planning out how to go about his task. He was just about to accept the next glass he ordered, but it was swiped away before he could reach for it. "Oy," Ardan's attention turned to who that hand belonged to before narrowing his eyes. But before he could form another remark, he froze. He was not familiar with the woman in front of him, but he was certainly familiar with the fact that she wasn't human. He squinted as he looked down at her. "Don't ya 'ave any mannuhs? Jus' takin' thin's that dinna belong to ya and thinkin' that's alright?"

[ascensionisms]

This was clearly a mistake because the sound of his voice paired with that god awful accent made her simply stare. A silent curse said for the giant man sized fuck up that was currently standing in front of her. The glass in her hand was looked at for a long moment, regarded like it was a decision in and of itself, before it was raised and she threw the shot back like a woman on a mission. It was done with all the style and grace of a well versed alcoholic, someone who had spent entirely too much trying to leave her memories at the bottom of a bottle. Slate colored eyes were directed to him then, much to her dismay. That slightly vacant look shifting with an uncanny sort of cant to head.

"Isn't that more your thing?" Hand holding the now empty glass was waved at him. It was an obvious nod to possession, something that she was familiar with, but in an entirely different way. After all, the god that had claimed her didnt crawl inside her skin, instead he simply took everything and left her with a few shitty parting gifts. A reminder not to break the glass in her hand, never ending rage present at almost all times, was evident in the way that the glass was returned to the bar, brushing past him to do so. "Why are you here?" Skipping the pleasantries. She wasn't asking for an answer, instead demanding one. Funny, considering he had been looking for her, yet she seemed like the one who found him first.

[sundersfate]

pasha stared into the middle distance, waiting for the world to recenter itself, dim colors coming back into sharp focus to highlight the gruesome scene before her. every breath dragged in the cloying, sickly scent of blood and cigarette smoke, rolling over her tongue in a thick blanket. pasha didn't dare look down at herself, knowing instinctively she'd be scrubbing herself raw the second she got home.

if she got home. right now, she wasn't quite sure that was in her cards.

baptiste's words cut through the shrill ringing in her ear, causing it to fade into white noise in the wake of his audacity. he did what had to be done? what bullshit. there were so many other ways he could've handled this situation. hell, she could've handled it and had had every intention of doing so, but he'd snatched the choice out of her hands and crushed it under his boot like one of his damn cigarettes. and now there he stood: unrepentant, explaining his reasoning in the same tone someone talked about the fuckin' weather.

"and who asked you to do that? 'cause it sure as fuck wasn't me." pasha didn't try to stop the snort that escaped her, full of bitter derision, wide eyes incredulous once she decided to finally meet his nonchalant gaze. challenging a master vampire —– a vampire that some claimed to be a god —– was, perhaps, not the smartest idea. but pasha had reached her limit with him. and, well, he was the one who said it was never gonna be her; she had to assume that also applied to him.

"i've asked you time and again not to get in my way. now i'm tellin' you. when i want or need your help, i'll ask for it. i'll even say please and thank you. but this," she gestured to the room around them, the blood dripping slowly off the walls. she did her best not to look at the bodies, "you didn't do this for me. you did this shit for yourself."

[ascensionisms]

He listened to the talking to that he knew he was going to get. It wasn't that she was particularly predictable, no. It was more that she was something, someone that embodied all the things he was lacking, the things that he wanted to protect, because no one had ever done so for him. Had he ever told her that? No. Those were whispered words for lovers and romantics, neither of which were titles that he could claim, that he ever had. Whatever they had been once, was long gone. He had been the one to break it, beyond repair, surely giving her thousands of reasons to claim that loving him, it would have been, it could have been, her greatest mistake. She deserved better, and while he had days that he'd wanted to be that, whatever one defined better as, there were more where he simply did what had to be done.

Shirt was pulled from where it was tucked, shredded, bleeding in a way that felt just as ugly as the bodies on the ground. It wasn't to show off, it wasn't to make a point. It was simply the fabric trying to weave its way into the wounds was becoming uncomfortable. It was eventually pulled over his head and dropped on the ground, making a wet sound, one that someone's fucking t-shirt certainly should not. Throat cleared, one more drag from cigarette, before it was time to actually address her. "Yeah aight." Petulant answer, for a moment before defiant head shook.

"I did it for you, believe it or not because while you are the second most capable motherfucker I know, like you always want to remind me." A look around the room before back to her, like illustrating the point. "This ain't that." He added, unsure if she would even notice that the wound at his side was barely healing, certainly far uglier than most of them had been in the past. A problem for later, as he seemed like it was the last of his worries. Her, always her, prioritizing her. "Real difference is this isn't in the way as much as it's saving you the time. Look at that..." Hand waved, laughing. "I did you a favor, you wouldn't wear the scar as well. Even you can't argue with that."

[mysteryoflovc]

How is he supposed to do anything but want him? Standing here and taking it all. Kihew could shove him down and he'd think that he'd deserve it and he would have to agree. Isn't all of this putting him in danger? Isn't it all going against the very reason Baptiste left him? This town has a way of swallowing you up and spitting out something unrecognizable and through it all Baptiste had been his constant. Until he wasn't. And he can remember that look on his face explaining something that Kihew hadn't wanted to understand. Why should he? It's not fair and all he's ever done is take it. This town and this man and those hands. Baptiste insisting they can't be together and still being this close to him. He thinks he must have done something to deserve this. Kihew must have been something awful in his past life. He bites the inside of his cheek so hard until copper coats his tongue when Baptiste's familiar touch wraps around his wrist.

Say it to me. Kihew's stomach clenches knowing his face is doing all the talking his mouth can't. If he opens it something ragged and broken will come out. His heart might come up with it. Kihew closes his eyes the moment Baptiste's fingers slide onto his pulse point. It'll easily give him away the way his hearts pounding against his ribcage. Some sick thought creeps its way up and out.

"You must want me dead. Touching me like this."

The loss of contact reminds him of how public they are right now as he drops his hand back to his side and steps away from Baptiste. There's nothing else to talk about. Everything he could say has already been said. Baptiste already knows and it won't change a thing. It won't bring him back to Kihew's side. "We shouldn't be alone together. It's a bad idea." As much as he hates the possibility of gossip he hates the possibility of giving in even more. "You should leave town there's nothing keeping you here now."

[ascensionisms]

There were plenty of options here, the main one should have been to let him go. To walk away and cement his bad decisions, forever dedicating himself to the space that separated them. Unfortunately he was way too selfish to accomplish that at the moment, or ever, really. Letting go was not something that he had ever practiced and when you had centuries to grow attached to your own bad habits, well, they were even harder to get rid of. A pause for a moment, as if the indecision was actually weighing, as if he were actually fighting against it. Dark eyes considered who and subsequently what stood in front of him. A heart that had been meant to be hollow, blackened by both time and lack of design worthy for love, sure did feel real when it was beating like that behind his ribcage. As if it were trying to physically exit his body for the sake of returning the favor, for the sake of putting it firmly in his hands.

Kihew steps away, he steps forward. A cruel exchange, a game of keep away that is not supposed to actually be that, a game. It's meant to be something far more than that, but surely the rumors about them were already churning. There really was no making it worse, but then again, he was all out of fucks to give. Head tips but this time so that words are firm in the way they whisper against the shell of his ear, an unintentional suggestion, or a trigger, that will bring back better memories of them. "You don't want me to leave and you sure as fuck don't want me to leave without you. What you want, is for me to remind you that I love you, that I fucked up in playing savior and I ain't never been one for salvation. What you want, is to get in the fuckin' car. So, I suggest you do what you want, but you'll call me selfish for that."

Speech concluded, fully expecting it to be fuel to the fire, hell probably the final step to actual violence. A part of him would have been thoroughly amused if Kihew did haul off and hit him for it, but at least he'd had the decency not to smirk when he pulled away. Features were intentionally stoic, stripped clean, nodding as if to say a cordial thank you maam, by the way of so called charm, and stepping away. That distance was probably cruel, especially in contrast with the closeness they'd just spent entirely too much time in. He didn't pause though, and instead turned to leave, to the mentioned car. Truth be told, he didn't expect to be followed. He expected to have his shit rocked, and not in the good way.

[ascensionisms]

[supfag-archives]

NOAH CENTINEO THE RECRUIT (2.01)

[elementary-graph]

Request by @keepgrlpwr  ♡ Credit (c) Watson if you use  ♡

[jayw4094]

Ashley Moore

[ascensionisms]