𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒. -- independent 18+ roleplay blog for the original character, cecelia holmes, multiverse & crossover friendly, written by alex, est. 2012
BIOGRAPHY | TIMELINE | GUIDELINES | VERSES
"Almost every woman I have ever met has a secret belief that she is just on the edge of madness, that there is some deep, crazy part within her, that she must be on guard constantly against ‘losing control’ — of her temper, of her appetite, of her sexuality, of her feelings, of her ambition, of her secret fantasies, of her mind."
heavy trigger warming across the blog, more information below
Cecelia had been born into privilege, the youngest of her family and the only daughter, an inheritance of wealth and expectation shaping the contours of her existence. By all outward measures, her life ought to have been one of seamless ease. And in many ways, it was. But beneath the gilded surface lay fractures, the first of which appeared with the death of her mother, a quiet devastation she carried into adulthood. Then came the string of failed marriages—three in total, each a wreckage to be neatly swept aside—and the unbearable, searing loss of her daughter in 2013, a child just ten years old, cruelly taken.
Yet beyond these tangible griefs lay something more ineffable, a shadowed thing that lurked within her, coiled and waiting. It stirred in the moments she most wished to preserve—happy occasions, tentative beginnings, fragile hopes. In these moments, Cecelia felt it not as a wound but as an inextricable part of her, something she could neither escape nor wholly understand, a presence that shaped her as much as her wealth or her loss.
London-based and approaching forty, Cecelia had recently traded the glamour of fashion magazines for the sharper edges of business and politics. Now, as head of her family’s company, Holmes International Consultants, she navigated a world far more perilous than glossy pages, her every decision fraught with risk.
some guidelines
I. smut and darker subjects are a-okay with me and will appear from time to time. common triggers will be tagged and never brought up directly without prior discussion. common triggers are eating disorders, child death, domestic abuse and mental health issues
II. don't be a dick, don't godmod, don't force ship, don't steal plots or icons, do be comfortable to approach me about anything; shipping, plotting, character development discussions, genuinely terrible relationship advice or call me out on something
III. cee is plot and arc driven, but i am happy to write pretty much anything. this is an exploration of character and scenarios more than anything else, and if that leads to highly developed plots then i am very excited but it's low pressure
"Sit, sit," Cee waves at the chair across from her, pushing her hair back over her shoulders. "We need to find you someone better nachos." She takes a mouthful and has to admit, they're better than some of her sexual experiences but they were low bars. "Now, safe to assume you don't want to bang anyone who comes in here."
Billie laughs softly, pouring the drinks and pushing one towards her. "No, but the punters love the flirting." She reaches across to steal a nacho. "I like to keep business and pleasure separate" A grin forms. "I'm professional that way." Another bite before she sits back with her drink. "So, what brings you here tonight?"
"Aha, no, that's the misconception of the poor and unlucky. You're always going to get fucked in business, so it's really better you accept that and try to find a good partner for it." She waggles her finger in scolding way, and then reaches for her drink and then shrugs. "The best nachos in the world bring me here. What keeps you here?"
Cee holds her tongue. She thinks anyone who think a man in the sky is telling them what to do is an insane hippy. Her mother got locked up for that sort of behaviour. But if you stamp some branding people recognise on it, that makes it sane? Please. But she's learned not to immediately yuck someone's yum. "I don't have any real opinion it, not my circus, not my monkeys I suppose. Rumour is, I don't have a soul and I seem to be getting on alright. I do good things without believing in a God."
"Interesting." Lucifer enjoys the sceptical. Their reactions have more substance to them. Any time he reveals himself to someone of a religious nature, they bless themselves and start praying. The atheists thought? They usually assume he's a crackpot. It makes life fun. "So, if I told you that I was Satan, would that make you more or less likely to allow me to buy you a drink? Bearing in mind that I'll at least be more interesting conversation than 99% of this room - Even if you do think I'm a lunatic."
She's had devils offer to buy her drinks before but they're rarely so upfront about it. They wait to ruin her day a good six months in. Cee offers a tight smile, once glance around the room and she knows he is right. "If I accept the drink, you're not seeing that as me being keen to join your cult are you? I'm sort of over cults."
Talking, lunch, talking, more talking. That is all this day has consisted of, and the next two will not be any different - or better - he thinks. Meetings altogether aren't to Gareth Mallory's liking, but these kinds of events are even worse. Endless yapping about a topic every single man and woman in this room knows everything about, anyway. Nothing new.
With a sigh he leans back in his chair, almost jumping up the second they are all released from this torture. But he can contain himself, and only stands up in a normal pace, gathering his papers and phone - and stopping the second a very familiar voice reaches his ear.
"The trick is...sleeping with your eyes open," he replies dryly. "After thirty years you will get used to it, too."
"Ah, well here's hoping I don't make it another thirty."
By the looks of some of the men in the room, there is a real danger that no one is getting out of here alive. The crowd continues the slow shuffle, some towards the car park and some towards hotels close by, all already on the phone or checking emails.
"Can I get you a drink? Consider it a thank you for saving my life two months back. You know, my scar is healing nicely. Plus... my hotel bar does glitter cocktails."
Billie's expression lights up, a cheeky grin forming. "Should I take that as you offering to show me some good sex?" She tosses the remark over her shoulder, leaving it to sit for a moment as she turns to head to the bar to grab cutlery, a pitcher of margaritas and two glasses. "Mind if I join you? I can't hack being behind the bar tonight."
"Sit, sit," Cee waves at the chair across from her, pushing her hair back over her shoulders. "We need to find you someone better nachos." She takes a mouthful and has to admit, they're better than some of her sexual experiences but they were low bars. "Now, safe to assume you don't want to bang anyone who comes in here."
~ @consultingsister || liked for a little starter || From Billie ~
"I guarantee you, these nachos are better than sex." Billie's grin is playful as she places the plate down. She leans against the table. "If you want a drink recommendation, I'd go for the spicy margarita or the Pink Pony daiquiri."
Cee glances up from her phone, with the sort of bemused look that real adults used to give her when she said something out of pocket. It was worse too, as although she got the Pink Pony reference, it was through a goddaughter who was old enough now to have her own taste in music. "I guarantee you," she begins, "you're having terrible sex."
Her father hadn't given her much advice when he handed over the keys to the kingdom, but one thing she wished he had mentioned was just how boring it could be. For most things she could send someone in her place but this required a personal touch. She pulled her glossy leaflet out from her notebook again, regarding the neat black lettering: The Sovereign Stability Forum 2025 "Securing Tomorrow Through Predictive Intelligence and Strategic Sovereignty". What an eye-roll.
She looked up, just in time for the speaker to thank the room, and remind everyone about the 7am breakfast the following morning. Oh good, another early start.
"Go on then," she slips in next to the only man she has any interest in that evening. "What's the secret, how do you not fall asleep during those talks?"
Back to him, over the sink, she has a second to digest the news and adjust her face into a cool mask. At the same time, her knuckles go white from clutching the edge of the sink, far too hard. Let go, you idiot. "Oh?" A test noise, to make sure she sounds normal. "Like..." she glances to him, "alien shit or... just regular everyday shit?"
Bucky watches Cecelia. He can't see her expression, can't read how she's feeling about the situation. Hell - Maybe she'll be glad for a break from him. "Ah - Stuff from my past shit." He doesn't want to involve her - But at the same time, he's so tired from keeping everyone out. He can't keep doing it. "There are some people after me. I need to sort it out." He hesitates. "And I don't want you getting dragged into anything."
There is a small thud as a soapy dish slips from her hand and hits, slowed by the water, the bottom of the sink. Cee turns. "Please don't do that, please don't make me feel like a silly little woman in a pretence to protect me." It is sort of impressive how quickly Cecelia can make anything about herself. It's amazing she's not going on about the misogynistic undertones really. "Tell me. Who is after you?"
Oh good, she's fallen in with a cult leader. Perhaps she could pretend to see someone she knows across the room and make a quick escape. "Um," she considers, pretending to be serious, "I went on a retreat once where you stuck crystals inside yourself so the good vibes would heal you from the inside out. That was pretty spiritual. People in gowns burned insense." It wasn't, to be clear, her idea to go.
He can practically feel the scepticism vibrating from her. No doubt she probably assumes he's about to coax her into some religious pyramid scheme. An eyebrow arches. "They sound like insane hippies, did they make you dance around in the moonlight to recharge the crystals too? Or did you have to birth them back into the world to expel the negative energy and restart the cycle?" Sounds like some bullshit that a life guru with a podcast came up with. "What about Heaven, Hell, Satan, souls - Believe in all that?"
Cee holds her tongue. She thinks anyone who think a man in the sky is telling them what to do is an insane hippy. Her mother got locked up for that sort of behaviour. But if you stamp some branding people recognise on it, that makes it sane? Please. But she's learned not to immediately yuck someone's yum. "I don't have any real opinion it, not my circus, not my monkeys I suppose. Rumour is, I don't have a soul and I seem to be getting on alright. I do good things without believing in a God."
"I have to go away for a while." The words tumble out, mixed with apology and emotion. Just when life has started to feel normal, his past comes back to bite him yet again. "Some shit has come up and I have to go deal with it. I don't know how long it'll take."
Back to him, over the sink, she has a second to digest the news and adjust her face into a cool mask. At the same time, her knuckles go white from clutching the edge of the sink, far too hard. Let go, you idiot. "Oh?" A test noise, to make sure she sounds normal. "Like..." she glances to him, "alien shit or... just regular everyday shit?"
Lucifer grins. "See, therein lies the beauty. They're all terrible sinners thanks to me. But for me to divulge any further we'd have to get into some very deep territory." Sometimes he likes to lie about who he is - Other times he likes to throw it at people and see what their reaction will be. He's curious as to hers. "Are you a spiritual person, Cee?"
Oh good, she's fallen in with a cult leader. Perhaps she could pretend to see someone she knows across the room and make a quick escape. "Um," she considers, pretending to be serious, "I went on a retreat once where you stuck crystals inside yourself so the good vibes would heal you from the inside out. That was pretty spiritual. People in gowns burned insense." It wasn't, to be clear, her idea to go.
