deus ex machina

How do you kill a God? Hades whispers, though still his voice carries, ‘With another God. An immortal for an immortal. Era for an Era. A celestial being to strip another’s soul. He pauses, the rest are silent. ‘A God for a God.’ closed writing blog for selected partners only. contains triggering material, reader discretion is advised.

[dispaters]

⌜ THEA PRIOR ⌟​​​:

Thea inhaled sharply, wanting really badly to smack the dumb look off of Romeo’s face. He always knew just the thing to piss her right off. There he was acting like he didn’t give a shit and that this wasn’t planned, which he probably didn’t and it probably wasn’t. He wasn’t like her, he wouldn’t go out of his way to annoy her because he just didn’t care that much. That drove her absolutely up the wall. “Having a drink in the club I work at? Couldn’t you go to, I don’t know, any of the other spots in town?” The blonde asked him with a heavy glare, her arms crossed over her chest defensively. Not even a minute into this reunion and already he’d called her stupid. That had to be some kind of record. “Call me dumb one more time and I’m dumping this drink all over your pretty clothes, asshole. When did you even get back here? I was hoping you were gone for good.” 

-

     “My, my, my,” Romeo’s eyes sparkled with insidious amusement as he sneered, “So much hostility and the night’s only just begun. Don’t tell me you’ve still got your wet little panties in a twist because I left. Sweetheart, that was years ago. I may have been your best lay, but that’s no reason to obsess over me.” His taunts dripped with malice as he watched her. Truthfully, leaving Thea behind had affected him. Her whole fucking presence had by that point. It was why he’d turned away without a goodbye, fading into the night as if he was never really there and she’d never mattered at all. It was a necessary self-manipulation. Like hell would he ever admit it, though. Instead, Romeo focused on winding her up. It was they did best, after all. “Did you think about me, Thea?” he pressed, ignoring her question. “Maybe at night, with your hand under the covers? Wrote about me in your diary, shed a few tears on your pillow at my expense?” Romeo bent down, face inches from her, cheshire cat smile wisply displayed on his lips. “Tell me, baby: how much did your hatred for me eat you alive?”

[dispaters]

⌜ OLIVIA PORTER ⌟​:

*

“Should’ve,” she agreed. “But, it probably wouldn’t have carried the same desirable effect.” Olivia was simple by nature. She knew of designer labels but, had never worn or been around any until college. It was only then, she realized she actually had to care about such things in order to blend in. Yet even then, it only ever reached a certain extent. Taking in yet another full glimpse of his heart stopping smile ( yes – Olivia was counting them ), she did him the favor of not commenting on it again. She feared that if she started to make too big of a fuss, he’d stop doing it altogether and therefore deprive her of the sight. “Really?” Letting him guide her to the table and hand her off to the romantically lit spread, Olivia raised a brow at him. “I don’t know. I’ve always thought you had a very vivid imagination. Very decorative. So much so, it scares me sometimes.” She’s only teasing him of course, as can be discerned through her award winning-smile. At least to Olivia, it felt like she was on the verge of winning something. Even if she had no idea what that was yet. She let herself mull it over but then, was quickly taken by Romeo’s instructions regarding the box. She recalled seeing it when they first arrived but, had paid very little attention to it until now. Needless to say, Romeo’s dread could be felt from a mile away and his warnings afterwards did very little to quell her nerves. This meant Olivia could feel Romeo’s eyes burning holes into her skull as she peered down at the exquisitely wrapped box waiting for her. She doesn’t have to open it to know it’s going to take her breath away. Romeo’s always had excellent taste. It was just that sometimes, it ran steep. As expected though, when Olivia finally chanced a peek inside, her breath instantly hitched. The diamond and sapphire encrusted necklace was beautiful. Costly, but still beautiful. And it’s worth made it feel increasingly ten times heavier than it was after opening it. Because she’s aware she’s being watched, Olivia controls her reaction as best as she can. She doesn’t bother to take it out of it’s encasing, mostly because, she’s too scared of touching it and breaking it, it’s that precious. Then, after closing the box back up, Olivia reaches for her wine glass instead, downing most of it as she stalls. But even the wine tastes exquisite and she knows for a fact, it is. She’d expect nothing less from a Rothschild. With the silence expanding, the stillness soon becomes deafening. Olivia could feel Romeo’s tension permeating the crisp, cold air around them from every corner. It’s practically wrapped around him like a vise. The only way to loosen it’s strain is to speak her thoughts and yet, Olivia doesn’t even know what to say. Thank you? She never was good at receiving lavish gifts. In fact, most of the time, she genuinely recoiled from them. Weird, she knows. What girl doesn’t love diamonds? Olivia, apparently. But, it wasn’t like she had any real practice with them either. The most expensive gift she ever got, ( before she met Romeo ) was a pair of diamond earrings for her high school graduation. Which, let it be known – definitely cost less than a grand. But, it was never the earrings themselves or the price that mattered much to her. It was the meaning behind them. It was a testament to how hard she worked. Unlike the trust fund babies of the world who often surrounded her, Olivia never had the financial backing that most of her peers did. Her parents were both lawyers but, they weren’t making giant six figures. They had student debts of their own, loans, a mortgage to pay. Olivia was lucky if she got new uniforms for school, let alone a car to get around in. Even now, she was busting her own ass to make something of herself. She’d finally moved out of her dad’s house and into her own apartment. It was probably a quarter of the size of Romeo’s and the rent was asinine but the beauty of it all was that, Olivia earned it. She didn’t have any help. So, while she wanted to accept his gift with no questions asked, she knew she couldn’t. It simply wasn’t in her nature and he was well aware of that. “It’s beautiful,” she said at last. The twinkle in her eyes, glowed several times their natural size behind the flame of the candles. “I’m not mad.” However, her mind was spinning. Spiraling with thoughts, feelings, and questions. “But, you know I can’t accept it.” She suspected he’d wonder why, even if a part of him already knew. Thus, Olivia saved him the trouble of asking by simply unloading it herself. Better to be upfront and honest with him now than to beat around the bush. Which, she swore to herself she wasn’t going to do. Not when it came to him. They’ve been through so much. There was no point in dancing around each other now. “I want to,” she confessed. “Mostly, because I know all the trouble you must’ve gone through to get it. I mean, I’d like to think it means something. I’m just having trouble figuring out what that is.” Was it a bribe? A peace offering? Something else? Only he could tell her. After all, his reasons for choosing it were likely the same reasons as him bringing her here. “So, what is it? Is this a – Olivia, I’m sorry, I want you back gift? Or is it a – Olivia, I saw this and thought of you, so I want you to have it, no strings attached?” As they’ve already established, buying her back wasn’t an achievable goal, because it wasn’t even in the cards. And should Olivia force herself to suck it up and just accept the gift to make him happy, she wanted to at least know what she was silently agreeing to. “I’m not trying to be difficult, I promise. I just want to make sure I understand what it’s for.”

-

           A ripple of annoyance passed through Romeo’s body. That was Olivia’s thing, wasn’t it: she never let him off easy. He’d hoped that with all the pomp and grandeur he’d put together—- no matter how sincere—- she’d leave well enough alone. The last thing he wanted was to verbalize his intentions. Gestures and actions were his expertise, comfort zone even. Words on the other hand? She might as well have started choking him. So much for that pipe dream. Yet, even in his discomfort, Romeo knew he couldn’t circumvent the conversation. Not this time. If he had any hope of keeping Olivia around, he had to play by her rules. There was only so many times he could keep playing the same game before he struck out and the thought of losing Olivia for good was unbearable. For better or worse, she was the love of his life and having known the painful life that awaited him should she step out of the picture he would do just about anything to avoid it. Still, he had no idea where to start.

           “Both,” he said finally, refusing to meet her gaze and instead focusing on the rippling tide where the sunlight shimmered off its waves. “I do want you back, but I didn’t buy you the necklace to try and buy you back. Not really, anyway. I bought it because it reminded me of you, Liv. Blue and you—-” he hesitated, suddenly feeling sheepish as his gaze flickered briefly in her direction. Of all the people in the world, the tiny 5′3″ blonde was the only one who could make him squirm. Tough shit. “You just go together. For years, I fuckin’ hated looking at the stupid color because all I saw was you. But that necklace, I just couldn’t—- I couldn’t leave it behind. You’re far more down to earth than any other girl I’ve known, but when I looked at that necklace, it was like looking at you. Blue, bold, and breathtaking. I bought it months ago and I never knew why because at that time, we weren’t speaking and I didn’t know if we ever would. I guess I figured that if a year passed and silence remained, I’d send it to you as a goodbye and good luck. Looking back now, I bought it as a security net—- an excuse to know that I’d at the very least get to interact with you one last time, if only to send it to you. So no. There’s no strings attached. The necklace is yours whether or not you want to get back together which, by the way, means I’m not taking it back. The return policy ran out so you might as well keep it. It’s not like I have anyone else to give it to, anyway. Call it a graduation gift.” Romeo ran his fingers through his hair, both overwhelmed, embarrassed, and nervous. Having this conversation was like eating sand. “Fuck,” he whispered, screwing his eyes shut and hand now running down chiseled features. He let out a sigh, hazel eyes settling on her petite figure, one now drenched in gold and pink hues. “You really fuckin’ kill me sometimes.” The sickening temptation to run had begun to swirl and in an effort to quash it, he groaned. “What I’m trying to say is that that necklace is yours. I bought it for you. Yeah, part of me hoped that I could use it as a symbol or a promise or whatever, but in the end, I bought it because it reminded me of you and I couldn’t leave it behind because it felt like leaving you behind. It’s a stupid necklace, made from precious gems and metals, and it doesn’t mean anything as it is. But to me, it did and I hoped it would to you, too. That just like it reminded me of you, it would remind you of me. Expensive, unnecessary, ostentatious, in your face, but existing anyway,” he paused, his tone falling to a soft whisper and eyes dropping down, his expression near childlike. “I just didn’t want you to forget me.” 

          And there it was. For all his words and reasoning, it was that last statement that was perhaps what it all boiled down to. Romeo Saint James, an ever inimitable force and haunting power, feared that one day, what they had would drift Olivia’s memory and so would he. She’d fall into the arms of another, her skin would turnover enough cells so she was brand new, and she’d no longer think of him. All he’d be would be an ever fading ghost. Meanwhile, he’d never forget Olivia. She’d made her indelible mark on his very soul and no amount of blood, cells, or other women, could remove her. For as long as he lived, Olivia would be a part of him—- a living memory that would undoubtedly drive him insane for as long as his heart pumped blood. The necklace, in true Romeo material fashion, was a way of ensuring that he remained a part of Olivia’s future as much as her past. Even if she fell asleep in another man’s arms, when she looked at that necklace she would see him. The memories, pain, love, and emotion would come flooding back and she’d remember. When it sparkled against her collarbone, when she passed it by, when she stuffed into a box and placed it on the top shelf to collect dust—- she’d feel something. Whether it was hatred, love, nostalgia, or regret, his ghost would be embedded into the diamonds and Olivia would spare him a thought. It was this fantasiful thought that would carry him on, allow him a comfort he could convince himself existed. Raising his gaze, Romeo watched her carefully. “I can’t give you a white picket fence, a quiet suburban life, or promise that I’ll be less trouble than I’m worth. I can’t tell you all the right things or what you want to hear. I can’t tell you what happens on the last page of all this. But,” Sincerity flooded his eyes. “I’m asking you to take one more chance on me. At the end of the night, I’d rather fight with you than be happy with anyone else. An idiotic statement, maybe, but true nonetheless. I’m going to fuck up, I can promise you that much, but if you can show me a little bit of sympathy, I won’t make a mile out of an inch. I'm trying and that’s what I want you to know: that I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, but I’m trying,” he looked at her curiously, as if struck by a sudden thought. “Because you’re worth changing for.” It was a sentence Romeo never thought would tumble from his lips, but boring into Olivia’s oceanic eyes, it was yet another honest truth spoken.

@prettyterrors​

[dispaters]

ciao, just a note that thread replies will be posted today (idk what time tho) and I’m also going to be responding to discord messages! hopefully everyone has had a good 2021 so far (world events not included) x

[dispaters]

⌜ KARLI ÖZTÜRK ⌟​​​:

~

            She caught him red handed, quite literally. It was as if her eyes were trained to see colors. The red paint, a symbolism of someone’s life force had somehow managed to attach itself to his fingertips, courteous of the confession models. It was small, almost untraceable to the naked eye. But could always be seen by someone like Karli. Besides, he looked a little guilty. The tension in his shoulders told her he was nervous. Alas, instead of grilling him about why, she let him steer the conversation elsewhere. Above all, she was just surprised he came. After their last interaction, she worried he’d think she was weird and likely avoid her quirkiness at all costs. Evidently not and seeing him again truly put a smile on her face. “I’m happy to have turned you into a potential fan then. That must count for something.” She concluded he didn’t get out much. Jasper was the type to bury himself in work to avoid dealing with whatever disinterested him in the outside world. Karli was utterly fascinated by it. She couldn’t explain why he enraptured her so much but, she suspected he had a story to tell. The cagey ones always do. “I’m also happy you came. I wanted to show you something. Or rather, thank you for the other day.” Respecting personal boundaries, she simply motioned for him to follow her away from the models, the crowd, the customers, and a few of her friends. There was one section of the shop that was closed off for the evening. Karli used it for storage, hoarding paintings she had no room for in her apartment, and the ones she mostly sold on her website. Among the selection was one painting in particular. He’d recognize it not only because he was familiar with the landscape but because she mentioned it the last time they spoke. “The London skyline,” she says, handing the painting over. It’s mostly in black and white with little blotches of yellow and cyan for the lights. “It’s not much but, I want you to have it. There’s a little piece of me in every painting. Yet for some reason this one feels tailored to you. If you want to hang it up or burn it, that’s entirely up to you. I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist though.”

-

           To say Jasper was surprised by the gift would be an understatement. He was stupefied, briefly considering the possibility that she was kidding or that it was a joke. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d received something so thoughtful. Perhaps before the death of his aunt some sixteen odd years ago when she’d given him the journal. Thus, it took him a moment to react. It was a beautiful painting and he felt unworthy of it somehow. He wanted to tell her that she should give it to someone else—- someone better than him who deserved the kindness she was seemingly handing over in addition. He itched to say that people like him didn’t merit beauty like that. They were too raw, severed, and jagged—- their innate brutality threatening to puncture the loveliness which surrounded. Not to mention, seep into whatever vision she’d created and ruin it entirely. After all, it was clear that Karli had formed an idea of Jasper that he simply wasn’t. To think of him as someone good enough to receive an art like that, every ounce in his body screamed she was wrong. That somewhere along the way he’d deceived her into thinking he was deserving and he was sorry for it. Yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to turn down the painting. It was stunning, her hardwork as obvious as the London skyline which tugged at his heartstrings. The utter delight lighting Karli’s features didn’t make it easier either. She looked like a child on Christmas and Jasper could picture the crumbling of her face, doe eyes embarrassed and dejected, if he rejected the art. So he simply  couldn’t say no, the desire to keep her happy outweighing his knowledge of himself. Finally, his fingers hesitantly clasped around the painting. Shyly taking it from her hands, his gaze lingered on the cyan. He had no idea what to do much less what to say but he had to say something. “Thank you,” The words came out awkwardly before he found his voice. “Really, Karli. It’s lovely and very generous, but you don’t have to thank me for anything. Driving you to the Post Office was a favor as a friend, not something that requires repayment.” Jasper met her eyes, a half-smile ghosting his lips. “But you’re a sweetheart for it and I don’t know how to thank you. It’s been a while since I last received a present, you know. May have forgotten how to accept one, but I do love it. Sincerely. So I certainly won’t be burning it, especially not if a piece of you is in it. In fact, I think I know just where to hang it. The wall on the rightside of bedroom has been looking a little bare and I think the London skyline is just what it needed. Might finally make home feel like home.”

[dispaters]

⌜ KARLI ÖZTÜRK ⌟​​​:

~

          Karli never really thought her gun purchase through initially, if she was being totally honest. To some extent, yes. It was a means to protect herself. From Russell, from a stranger, from anyone who posed a threat to her really. She’s even dreamed of blowing Russell’s head off, watching his guts splatter on her walls as if to create it’s own wicked painting in the aftermath. It sounds so bad, wishing someone dead. Looking at Karli, no one would suspect she was capable of such  diabolical thoughts. That baby face, sweet temper, and dulcet voice distracted others from recognizing Karli’s dark side. One Khair was inviting to come out and play. Or maybe that was the alcohol. Could be a mixture of both, really. “Everything you say always sounds so poetic. You should be a spokesperson. For scorned women. We could call you the queen panther.” A hiccup surfaced amid her excited laugh. Karli was beyond the point of tipsy. She was seeing stars and by that, she means; possibilities, hopes, dreams, all in the presence of Khair. Everyone truly underestimated the power of incredible female role models. Karli was hooked on Khair as hers, as if she were her own personal Gandhi, pumping her with inspirational quotes and philosophies that she could truly live and die by. “Two in the chest and one in the dick,” she wheezes, reiterating the statement while shaking her head in wild, untamed amusement. She was utterly tickled as she rose to her wobbly feet and looked inspirationally at Khair. “I’ve got an idea. But, I’m a little drunk so it may not be a good one just F-Y-I.” She was confident it was skirting along the lines of royally bad but bad ideas often made for good stories to tell later. “Let’s go shopping in your closet for matching kill bill outfits and then go out and cause a little trouble. Come on, it will be fun. You can teach me how to do that sexy, smokey eye and how to ruin a man with the touch of a finger. I need all the help I can get if I wanna take down Russell and if I don’t start now I’ll talk myself out of it tomorrow. After my hangover passes.”

-

           Messy, dark locks bounced as a fit of laughter shook Khair’s body. The wine had really done a number and Karli’s words both amused and flattered her. It was a rich concept—- to think of herself as some sort of slinky lecturer, much less poetic. Vampy, maybe, but poetic? She wasn’t so sure. Yet as she sat there, brown eyes staring into the carmine liquid, she wondered if maybe Karli was right and she was more eloquent than she gave herself credit for. Daniel had made it a habit to “correct” her English, often remarking that people wouldn’t understand her. At best, it’d made her grateful for his guidance and at worse, terribly insecure. Eventually, his constant tweaking and nitpicking had led to a preface around guests. Daniel would make it a point to announce that her English wasn’t the best and it didn’t take long for Khair to began using the caution herself almost as if it was a form of introduction. After all, who was she to question the accuracy of his statement? She was a Dutch native of Turkish descent. Nothing in her was remotely native English speaker. Daniel, on the other hand, was a born and raised American educated at Oxford. When it came to command of the English language, he had her beat. Or so she used to think. She was suddenly struck by the notion that perhaps her manner of speaking wasn’t rough or bad or even mediocre. Maybe Karli was right and eloquence was something she possessed. The drunken realization sent a ripple of anger through her body and with it, a sharp desire for revenge. Setting down her glass, Khair lifted her gaze to meet Karli’s. “You’re really giving me more credit than I deserve, but I’ll consider the spokesman thing. Teaching women how to exact revenge on men doesn’t seem like a bad idea. Besides, with you as my first project, I can’t think of anyone better to start with. So c’mon,” she stood up, beckoning smile lighting her features and mischief glinting in her eye. “Drunken idea or not, I think when tomorrow’s hangover comes along, this is one of the few things you should resolve to do. Plus lucky for you, I’d love nothing more than to help dress this year’s Amy Dunne and cause a little hell. The night’s young and there’s some fun to be had. Thelma and Louise: The Comeback.” With that, Khair practically leapt towards the staircase, thrilled by Karli’s openness and salivating at the potential for chaos. The night had only just begun and it looked promising.

[dispaters]

@klngbys​

           October—- Jac’s favorite month of the year. It’d arrived suddenly, she supposed it always did. One minute the August sun scorched above her head and the next, the leaves began to brown, the air turned crisp, and the moon rose higher and higher in the sky. Store windows were brightened by pumpkins sporting cheshire smiles, Halloween decorations of skeletons, cobwebs, and spiders found themselves neatly arranged on neighbors’ lawns, and her shop—- nestled in historical downtown—- experienced its busiest time of the year. Tourists and locals alike flooded with curious eyes to see what the occult had to offer. Candles, pendulants, tarot cards, sage, and beginners’ books were sold nearly as fast as they came, mostly to young women. Watching gaggles of girls hover over the items, hungry eyes devouring the promises of love, seduction, and revenge as The Cranberries’ Zombie played softly above, Jac’s heart swelled with hope. It was a new generation of women, she thought. Ones who questioned and searched and found answers to a world that was simply not built for them. Daughters of witches who’d dared to stand for what they’d believed in, they flocked in with their Stevie Nicks tops practically vomitting questions. Of course, Jac knew most were solely driven by the Halloween spirit and they would inevitably slink back into their “normal” interests until the next year swung around. Yet, if she could spark the black flame in at least one and send them howling for the moon, it’d be worth it. After all, it was the season of the witch and magick came in many different forms—- some less enchanting than others.

           Shuttering the doors to the store, Jac gave them one final tug before moving in the direction of the distant commotion. It was the town’s annual Halloween market. For the month of October, the path down the marina was lined by various autumnal-themed shops and stands. Anything from jewelry, cider, scarves, costumes, and caramel apples could be purchased with a portion of the proceeds donated to the local children’s hospital. Not to mention the various offers for ghost rides, stories, and scare rooms. It was a good time, the night, crowds, and orange glowing lights providing a warm atmosphere, but that wasn’t why Jac was going. Not tonight, anyway. Since he’d approached her at the store, King had practically crawled inside her every thought. Granted, it wasn’t like she wasn’t used to men coming up to try their hand at conversation. It was the why he’d done it that bothered her, gnawed at her paranoia until she couldn’t help but follow him. Within a few days, it became clear he had a pattern. It made it easy for Jac yet admittedly left her confused. The man seemed to be alone at all times and it set her alarm bells off. He was a good-looking guy and still—- no girlfriend, no friends, and no family in sight. Peculiar. Reaching the market, it took her a few rounds before she spotted him a little ways to the left near the bar. She should’ve guessed. She stopped to order a drink before she made her way over. “King,” Jac greeted. “We meet again.” Slender frame slid into the seat beside him, beer dangling between lithe fingers. She motioned at the happenings around them. “So, you into all this Halloween stuff or you just watching what goes bump in the night? I mean, I know I’ve only met you once but ghouls, goblins, and ghosts don’t really strike me as your thing.”

[dispaters]

⌜ OLIVIA PORTER ⌟​:

* 

Open your eyes. His quiet command sent a shiver darting down her backside. Olivia didn’t have to see him to know he was likely craning to meet her at eye level. It definitely took her longer than necessary to finally oblige and peel her eyes open. One at a time. But, when she did, no sound came out. The sight before her had left her brain in a tizzy and her voice, utterly breathless. Which, she knew wouldn’t aid her in her efforts to quell Romeo’s nervous ramblings and apparent edginess. She found both to be cute, even if she did him the favor of not commenting on it this time. Her mind was otherwise too preoccupied anyway, on trying to measure the depths of what she was currently witnessing. Romeo wasn’t kidding when he said he drew inspiration from the movies. The location, the set up, and everything else in between, looked exactly like the backdrop of a Hollywood film set. Only it was better because it was real and not at all make believe. Right down to the very, natural orange glow of their October sunset. Which was a brilliant contrast to everything else. Particularly all the blues. Beautiful, soft, delicate, mesmerizing blues. He’d told her once, ( at the hospital, actually ) that blue was her color. Even now, it still rang true. “Wait,” she motioned with her hand for him to slow down. She was still trying to process. “You mean to tell me, you did all of this―” she paused to motion to their surroundings, “Yourself? How long did it take you?” Her guess? would’ve been hours, maybe even all day. On top of that, it must’ve cost him a fortune. And while normally, that would’ve sent Olivia caving, ready to repel any and all overwhelmingly expensive gestures from his bank account, this time it didn’t. Something told her they couldn’t put a price tag on this moment. And to be honest, it wasn’t even about that for her. The details ( no matter how intricate they were, or seemed to be ) were merely just a display of his efforts. It was the meaning behind it all that Olivia cared the most about. Although, both mattered, truly. The fact that Romeo was so nervous when unveiling it to her too, told her he was stressed about it. And his stress confirmed that he cared. That above all, he just wanted to see her happy. Therefore, upon turning on her heel to face him, Olivia tugged sweetly on the hand still holding hers. “Look at me,” she instructed, her eyes willing him to hold her gaze until she was finished speaking. “It’s perfect, I love it.” Almost as much as I love you, she added on as an afterthought. “Although I hope you know, you really outdid yourself this time. It’s going to be pretty hard to top in the future. Not impossible but, definitely difficult. Then again, I could always come up a few ideas on how I could help you out with that.” Her bright blue eyes twinkled with subdued mischief. Olivia was not always as innocent as she looked. He knew this probably better than anyone. Although, others might’ve known it now too. “But let’s pace ourselves, shall we? Besides, this is your date. I’m not going to tell you how to run it. And you’re already off to a great start so, you don’t really need my help or my approval. Yet if you want it, you have it.” That much she solidified by drawing closer and running her fingers over the mix of blue and white petals, as if to claim them. “This means I want to stay and enjoy it, by the way. So, you can finally relax now because you nailed it.” 

-

           An ocean of relief rushed over Romeo’s body. “Good because it took me like four hours. Who knew flowers were such a hassle? Should’ve just bought you a bouquet, stuck a light bulb on it, and called it a day.” He flashed her another rare smile. Truthfully, he would’ve gone through the struggle of setting it up all over again if it meant seeing her reaction once more. Her initial silence had admittedly left his heart pounding, but her obvious elation afterwards quelled the heart attack instantly. “Although,” he added, hazel eyes taking on a mischievious glint. “I do like this idea of some suggestions. I’m afraid my creative imagination has a limit. Maybe you could tell me over some wine. Speaking of which, there’s one last surprise.” Taking her hand, he led her in the direction of the table. This was perhaps the riskiest part. Romeo knew Olivia well-enough to anticipate her reaction over the necklace. It was an exorbitant gift and unlike the setup, its price couldn’t be camouflaged within its appearance. The damn thing looked precious. He suspected some pushback—- albeit he had some hope she would simply swallow her qualms and accept it no questions asked—- and he dreaded it. Convincing Olivia (or most people who hadn’t grown up with wealth for that matter) to accept something lavish was like pulling teeth. Of course, her hesitancy reassured him of her true intentions yet he would be lying if he said he didn’t sometimes wish she just fawned over it like the vapid rich girls he’d often surrounded himself with. They were grossly entitled, but at least they readily accepted the gift and he didn’t have to spend half the time encouraging them to take it. Then again, Romeo would prefer Olivia’s guilt-ridden expression over their smirky ones anyday. For all his faults and terrible behavior, Romeo differed from those of his social class by never finding the appeal of money. Sure, he liked being rich but material possessions, designer labels, and other wealth signifiers rarely did it for him. When he purchased such items, it was because of the work, quality, and detail behind them, not because he wanted something to show off. He credited such an attitude with the fact that his family had been wealthy for generations. They were old money and that meant affluence wasn’t a state of brandishment, it was a state of being. Pulling out her chair, he waited for her to take a seat before moving towards his own. “Don’t open the box yet,” he instructed. Reaching into the bag he’d brought along, he removed a bottle of Château Mouton Rothschild—- his mother’s namesake. He briefly set it atop the table before grabbing the crystalline Tiffany glasses, meticulously pouring the contents of the wine in each. Placing Olivia’s beside her mat, he motioned towards the box. “Okay,” he began. “Open it. Just don’t be mad.” Once again, he found himself watching her intently. They’d been on great terms lately—- the last thing he wanted was a fight. 

[dispaters]

⌜ THEA PRIOR ⌟​​​:

Thea’s shift had ended a few hours  and still was nowhere near departing the club. Like most nights, she ended up drinking her tip money away and flirting with whatever cute customer had shown interest that night. The other alternative was going back to her crappy apartment with her mattress on the floor and she didn’t feel much like being alone with her thoughts tonight. Or any night really. Like always her father, her brother and constant rejection was on her mind and her choice of coping mechanism was usually avoidance. She wasn’t sure how healthy it was, but it worked for her.  Better than spending her nights crying over how her father didn’t love her. “The usual,” she told her colleague, the current bartender, right after having wedged herself between two patrons. As she waited for her drink, she finally took a moment to look at both people around her and practically recoiled when she recognized the tall man standing on her right. Flustered, she apologized to the girl she bumped into before turning her glare on Romeo. The two of them had always had a complex relationship, but never more than after he’d left town for college without so much as a warning. They weren’t dating, never had, but she was so fucking sick of being left behind like some random piece of junk. “What the hell are you doing here?” @dispaters​

-

      Romeo knew he’d run into Thea eventually and there’d be hell to pay when he did. He was an asshole not an idiot. The minute he’d decided to skip town without giving her so much as a goodbye, he’d ran the risk of wrath. Granted, he’d had no intention of returning to town at the time, let alone finding Thea again. Whatever they’d had, he couldn’t explain. Caught somewhere between lovers and enemies, their relationship was fraught with friction. Sometimes it resulted in passionate desire and other times... it took every ounce of strength in him not to tear her head off. His disappearance only exacerbated such intensity with Romeo taking ghosting to a whole other level. He thought about her from time to time, quietly yearning for the toxic destructiveness they tended to bring when together and her body against his. Thea was many things, but boring wasn’t one of them. Eventually, he’d learned to brush her out of his mind until she became nothing but a shadow of a life once lived. Thus standing around at the bar, he hadn’t noticed Thea’s body squeeze in beside him—- yet there was no mistaking that voice. He turned to face her slowly. She looked the same: beautiful, blonde, and fucking pissed. “Having a drink,” Romeo’s response was clipped. “It’s a bar, Thea, is there something else I should be doing? C’mon, I know it’s been a few years, but I was hoping you’d at least have some braincells intact.”

[dispaters]

⌜ ISOBEL CERCI ⌟​​:

Isobel’s gaze flicked from the road towards the male at her side. “Baby? We’ve jumped to pet names now?” She questioned with a grin. Romeo seemed like the twisted type who would be turned on by the crazy. Maybe he was half delusional and believed it was a means of getting his attention. At least she’d find herself amused by the notion of turning him down. After all, she had an inkling that he rarely got to see the door shut in his face. Most girls were desperate enough to believe that they could change a male like Romeo and have him putty in their hands. If someone like Romeo could even wrap his head around the concept of love, she doubted it would have any effect on him. Men like him only used those feelings to their advantage. Luckily for Isobel, she knew better than to be fooled by such simple acts of kindness and affection. Love had always been a fickle notion for her. Not that she wouldn’t sit on his face to keep him quiet if the opportunity arose. They were two demented individuals and she couldn’t imagine that the sex would be bad. Though, if it all went south, at least she’d have the imagine of that scratched up Tesla to keep her nice and warm at night. Her eyes scanned the street before a soft chuckle escape her lips. “Ask me something straight forward and I might consider answering it truthfully.” The brunette said as she smoothed the front of her dress. There were countless ideas that came to the front of her mind on how she could piss Romeo off. However, most of them consisted of damage his material — and while momentarily fun, she felt an urge to tear him to shreds. No one had their ego engulfed that much in such short years without getting away with more than they should have. Money, power — it got people places and he was no exception. What she’d need was to pay close attention and learn rapidly. At least quicker than him. Still, she doubted that Romeo had the intellectual to truly tear someone apart from the inside out. No, if she had to bet — he only knew how to use his fists. She’d seen a small flash of red hot anger in his gaze that made her stomach flip. Let’s just say she wouldn’t be shocked should she see his face on the news one night for taking his aggression a little further than intended. 

To say that Isobel was relieved that they found themselves at the tavern was an understatement. Eyes had been set upon them since their arrival at the bar, though the brunette easily ignored the heaviness of unfamiliar gazes. “You do realize that I took it easy on you, correct?” Her eyes flicked towards the male before she wrapped her lips around the straw of her drink. Crimson stained the white straw when she pulled back, placing her glass upon the counter. “Yet I’ve never had someone take me out for drinks afterwards. So, I’m inclined to believe there’s an end goal here.” Fingers tapped the surface of the bar as dark hues flicked over his person. “I’m going to make it easy on you because I also don’t believe you know what the fuck you want to do. You’re bidding your time.” At least, so she assumed. A leg folded over the other, bringing her foot closer to his ankle while her form leaned closer to him. “I’m not going to sleep with you tonight and you’re not going to see a penny from me. You can try and call mom and dad or the cops all you want. Frankly, I’d love to see you do so.” Isobel was convinced that she could put holes in any story he fed them and twist it her way. “We’ll have our little drink on mommy dearest and call it a tie because, baby, you’re in over your head.” As a woman who’d gotten away with too much and had been convicted before, she feared no repercussion and had an ego to match. Worse than that, she had nothing to lose. 

-

           Romeo snickered at her response. She was clever, but she wasn’t very bright. “You really have no faith in me, do you, Isobel?” he taunted, taking a drink from his vesper. While he was tempted to say that Isobel hadn’t taken it easy on him and she was merely fronting, the truth was he didn’t know enough about her to know for sure. Romeo may be used to having the upper hand and was certain he’d maintain it, yet he wouldn’t go so far as to underestimate her. Not yet, anyway. Once again, Isobel had proven she was just insane enough to put some money where her mouth was. That said, she wasn’t wrong in calling him out for bidding his time. It was what he had been doing, after all. Until now. He’d reached a comfortable conclusion that would see him on a long run game. If Isobel was right and she really could do worse, he wanted to see just how wicked she could get. It was no secret Romeo enjoyed a good game of cat and mouse and the pretty brunette before him was by far the most worthy opponent he’d come across. It wasn’t often someone pulled one over Romeo Saint James and her ability to do so was both commendable and intriguing. “Besides, I don’t need to blackmail you to get you to sleep with me,” he rejoined quickly. Arrogance had always been a defining trait of his, but he had yet to be proven otherwise. He was as confident in his sexual abilities and charm as he was his predisposition for violence. “But you’re right,” he continued, meeting her gaze. “I was bidding my time. When an opportunity like this presents itself you can’t be too hasty. That’s when things get messy and I’d rather keep this as controlled and clean as I possibly can. See, I can’t afford any more trouble with the law. You’re not the only one with a propensity for losing your shit, Isobel.” A sinister smile accompanied the statement, hazel eyes glinting a wicked mean. “Regardless, let’s get into it then. Like I said, I have no interest in taking you home tonight under forced circumstances. I’m not a rapist so if you’re looking to satisfy your needs, you’ll have to beg first. Until then, we’re keeping this simple and on a less perverted path.” He polished off the rest of his drink before crossing his arms and leaning his elbows atop the counter. “As you’ve correctly assumed, my family comes from a lot of money. A shit ton of money. Mommy dearest is a Rothschild and my father is a banker, a member of a banking dynasty in his own right. As you can see, I’ve always wanted for nothing. Galas, glitz, and glamour is all I’ve ever known. Grew up in the Upper East Side of New York surrounded by the world’s wealthiest people. There’s never been anything I couldn’t buy or have. Nothing. However, we’ve all seen the movies, right? Ennui permeates the life of the wealthy and we’re all just gilded birds stuck in ivory towers. Nothing to do or be because we already are. Personally, this never bothered me. I make my own entertainment and that’s precisely what you’re going to help me with. See, I’ve never liked my mother. She’s shallow, vapid, and frankly, uninteresting. I suspect she doesn’t like me either. So that’s where you come in. You’ve clearly got a penchant for ruining shit and that’s exactly what you’ll be doing. Raising some hell. Cordelia,” his mother, “will be hosting one of New York City’s biggest galas next week and I need a date. Think of it like a test, to see if you can play your part. If you can, we’ll go from there and you’ll have access to not only a network of the world’s wealthiest and most powerful people, but depending on how you do, I may throw in a nice little gift at the end. One that I’m sure will allow you to commit any crime you’d like and buy yourself out of it. Call it compensation for a job well done.” Romeo watched her carefully, evil aura swirling around him. “What do you say?”

[dispaters]

⌜ OLIVIA PORTER ⌟​:

Love had a funny way of working itself out. It seemed the more Olivia tried to mend things between them, the more bent out of shape they had gotten. It was only when she stopped trying, did she see any real improvement. Thus with the new season, came new beginnings. And a fresh, new chapter for them both. One that, she surprisingly was looking forward to. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d honestly said that. It’s been years, truly. The long, dark road they’ve been on for months has finally come to an end, and now all there was, was nothing but blinding light. Olivia had no clue how long any of it would last. But, she was willing to remain optimistic moving forward. For the better part of five years, she’s loved and hated Romeo for all he was worth. Then loved him again. And she still loved him now. But, what was even more shocking was, she actually trusted him. Not fully, of course. It would take a hell of a lot more than one, romantic date to restore her full faith in him. But the good news is, Romeo was trying. Genuinely, trying to fix that. She could see it in his eyes, feel it through their joined hands as he steered them towards their destination. He seemed nervous. Which, for a man of his nature was very uncommon. She had no idea where he was taking her, it was meant to be a surprise. He could either be leading her to her death or to a heart-stopping gesture. Olivia was hoping for the latter, looking forward to the latter, as she directed eyes of sparkling sapphire in his direction, noting the boyish grin overtaking his features there. Olivia couldn’t resist commenting on it, and quite frankly, he walked right into it. “Is that―” She paused briefly to gasp and, playfully point a finger at his lips. “―A smile on your face? Oh my god, Romeo Saint James, it is! You do still smile.” She was only teasing him of course, as she looked away, returning her gaze back to the path up ahead, while still grinning from ear to ear in her own amusement. Olivia was by no means out of shape (never has been), but even she was struggling to keep up with his tall strides as she finally pushed out a winded, “I promise.” Whether or not, she’d keep that promise however ―she had no idea. His anxieties were beginning to rub off on her. And so, when they finally stopped, his grip on her hand was the only thing halting her from taking another step. “But, if I close my eyes then I can’t see where we’re going anymore.” Duh Olivia, that’s the idea. Now, pay attention. She shot him a wary look, then sighed, and ultimately gave in. Trust me. Several months ago, she wouldn’t have been able to. But for whatever reason, she did now. More than she even cared to admit. “Okay, okay. I’m closing them.” Olivia was taking a giant leap of faith as her eyelids fluttered to a close and her fingers tightened around his, silently conveying with a gentle squeeze that she was ready for whatever he had in store.

-

           Romeo did his best to ignore her jab, though he felt the heat rise in his cheeks. A few months ago he may have felt inclined to quickly camouflage the smile with a scowl. Today he was only sheepish, allowing her to take full advantage of any slips in character. Sucking up her teasing was the least he could do after his past behavior. Besides, he was mildly amused by her huffing. Funny—- he often forgot how small she was. At 5′3″ she barely reached his shoulder and yet Olivia seemed larger than life. He credited it to her personality. The blonde was perhaps the only person in the world who could put Romeo in his place without fear of retaliation. As kindhearted as she was, he knew better than anyone that she had a nasty bite when her fangs were bared. Frankly, he liked their height difference. Romeo was all too aware of his imposing presence yet around Olivia, he felt less like a threat and more like a protector. There’d been moments in the years they’d been apart when he’d worried over her safety. Who she was with, whether someone was looking out for her, and if there was ever a time she wished he’d been there. It wasn’t like he had a savior complex, of course. He knew Olivia was capable of defending herself. But the world was a cruel place, prowling with dangerous strangers. Only when she was with him was he absolutely sure no harm would come to her. If there was one thing in the world Romeo would strive to protect at all costs, it was Olivia. She was all he had and all he loved. The squeeze she gave his hand, large and rough compared to the petite smoothness of her own, gave him all the reassurance he needed. Moving her forward, he took a moment to observe the scene for himself, heart in his throat. It’d cost a pretty penny to purchase the flowers, lights, candles, and rent out the area of the water, and he only hoped it’d been worth it. It was much more over the top than anything Romeo would’ve regulaly done, but it was the signal of a new era. An apology and a promise, thus he’d gone all out. Blue hydrangeas broken up by skillfully placed white lilies encircled a black metal frame where soft gold lanterns lit up the small table directly beneath. The water of the lake was close enough to catch the reflection and sparkled the rosy, orange pigments of the sunset. Beside their chairs were a series of forget me nots and white roses, candles burning carefully around them. Atop the table was a single flame candle and in front of Olivia’s placement was a black nondescript box containing perhaps the most lavish part of the night: a 718 marble marquetr necklace by Harry Winston. His intention was hardly to buy her back—- Olivia had long proven she couldn’t be bought and his wealth was of no interest to her. Rather, it was a late birthday present: for the one he’d missed this year and the years before. “Open your eyes,” he said quietly before nerves got the best of him. “It’s a lot, I know, I just—- I don’t know. I thought I’d try something different for once. You know make an effort. It took me a while and I don’t think I set up a lot of things right, but hopefully it’ll last an hour. If you don’t like it, we can leave it and go somewhere else. It’s up to you, no pressure.” He was rambling and Romeo forced himself to shut up, instead nervously watching Olivia’s face for any flickers of emotion or disgust. He wanted her happy, not overwhelmed. 

[dispaters]

⌜ XAVIER NAVARRO ⌟​:

            The ride back to his place felt long and drawn out, the remnants of Khair’s kiss leaving him straining against his zipper. He’s waited for this moment for so long. Dreamt about it until he couldn’t any longer. Let himself fantasize, about the volcanic eruption he could never experience with Holly or Daniel around. But now… it was finally here. His sated desires no longer eons away. Xavier had every intention of worshiping Khair. His goal was never to fuck her. She wasn’t like the others. An itch he could scratch and toss away later. Rather, he knew… the moment he had even one taste of her,  he’d be left aching for the rest of his life. If the touch of her lips was any indication, that was one thousand percent true. In the beginning, he might’ve stumbled in his battle to gain control of the light switch and bathe her in its luminescence but, he would’ve done that anyway. She filled him with a sudden burst of urgency. Every part of her made him feel young again, oddly hopeful and giddy. There was no hiding his smile even as he buried it between the crook of her neck, while the rest of him burrowed between her soft legs. Needing to feel her in her entirety. He was certain she could taste his exigency as his hands explored her whole body. And while he could only see them out of the corner of his eye, he liked the way her clothes looked next to his on the floor, scattered in a heap. He wouldn’t mind spending every day of his life, or what remained of it, repeating the same lovely process. Seeing her like this… naked, open, and uniquely vulnerable underneath him, filled him with a sense of satisfaction that couldn’t possibly be beat or achieved with anyone else. Mostly because, she was one of a kind. Treasured. Prized. And beautifully impeccable. They’d spent all of the last, hour? Maybe two? Maybe three? in his bed, Xavier leaving no part of her untouched. Traces of his mouth saturated nearly every inch of her skin. From her neck, to her chest, to her breasts, to her stomach, to her thighs, to her hips. Some would say he was marking his territory. Maybe that would be true, if it was his only intention was to own her or to ravish her. But in fact, Xavier didn’t want just her body. He was interested in something much, much deeper. The part of her that couldn’t be seen from the outside but, he knew resided in her somewhere. Her heart.

            “Gotta say,” his hand traced her hip underneath the bedsheet. Truth be told, he couldn’t keep his hands off her. He feared that if he let her go for even a split second, the fantasy of her would slip away from his grasp and he’d wake up to find that the past few hours were nothing but a wondrous daydream. These days he didn’t have many hopeful thoughts to look forward to. But when he did, they almost always consisted of her. “This bed feels a lot more comfortable now with you in it.” He presses his nose to her cheek and then bends down to kiss her neck before finally rolling over onto his back. He’s exhausted, frankly. He’d given her all that he had. And in return, she chased away his demons. For a moment, he wished he could convince her to stay. Beyond just this one night, but forever. Because he knew when she inevitably leaves, she’ll take his heart and his peaceful reprieve along with her.   @dispaters​

-

       Moving to rest her head on Xavier’s chest, Khair couldn’t remember ever feeling so satisfied. Stepping through his door had felt like diving into a shimmering daydream and she was sure her heart hadn’t stopped fluttering from the moment Xavier laid her down on the bed. Every part of him had felt familiar against her skin, as if he’d been there a thousand times before. His touch had electrified her body, leaving her drunk, giddy, and helpless off the feel of him alone. The years had built up the desire to immeasurable heights, but he hadn’t disappointed. The last few years had been turbulent at best and the thought of being in the same bed had often seemed like an alternate reality. First Holly and Daniel then prison and the clinic. They’d come a long way and had further to go, but at least for a few hours, Khair had been protected by his body atop hers and the world had melted away. After all, even as her nails had dug into his back time and time again, there was a tenderness in the air. One that made her feel safe and cared for. With Daniel and the few men in between, Khair had been less an active participant and more a vessel, her body serving as an object of pleasure over something to be pleased. With Xavier, it was all so different. His scent, strokes, lips, and taste all elicited a response of immediate belonging. In the shadows of the quickly descending moonlight, Khair blossomed like a flower beneath him. He had complete power over her yet there was no fear. No hesitation. No reticency. Khair trusted Xavier completely, wholly, and eternally. She was only vaguely aware that she was wading into a fate she couldn’t possibly hope to come back from. Years of bitter oaths had gone out the window and terror would undoubtedly come knocking at her mind’s door accompanied by the first streaks of sunlight. Until then, everything was still and serene. 

      “Very cute,” A giggle escaped her throat as her fingers gently traced his chest, the beat of his heart sweet against her ears. “Just don’t go falling in love with me. I tend to be a health hazard.” Khair was teasing, but the thought of something more developing sent her own heart skipping. After all, the words were more so a warning to herself than to him for she knew she teetered on the edge of a very steep cliff. Gazing into Xavier’s eyes, she was all too aware of the fact that he could break her heart. Take her down with a stinging swoop she was powerless to prevent. It was more than she bargained for but she couldn’t find it in herself to pull away. Xavier had her in the palm of his hand more than Daniel ever had. He respected her, treated her like a person. So even if one day she awoke to find he’d ruined her, at least it’d been him who left her scarred. Nestling her head into the side of his neck, she wanted to ask what he thought would happen, both between them and the future they faced. It was a road to hell and Khair was afraid—- not because something may happen to her, but because something may happen to him. Something she couldn’t fix. She stopped herself from going too far, reminding herself that he was there now. Whatever ensued after, they’d face together when the time came. “I could get used to this, though,” she started, voice low as if bashful by the admission. “You make me feel good.”

[dispaters]

⌜ KARLI ÖZTÜRK ⌟​​​:

~

            A laugh bubbles from her throat, spilling into the open space between them. Be it the wine, the comfortability, or the fact that it’s having a nice, genuine girlfriend to talk to, Karli feels as if she’s soaring on cloud nine. Her cheeks heat from the wine, and she’s leaning against the armrest of the couch, feeling effortlessly at home. Khair makes her feel surprisingly safe. And not just in a physical way. She gets the sense that she can open up to her about anything. It’s a good thing, too. The alcohol is lowering her defenses, giving away inhibitions. They’re talking about Thelma and Louise and hypothetically plotting their dream demise. And Karli’s all too willing to feed into Khair’s wishes. If they were going to go out, they oughta go out in style. Not that Karli had any sense of it herself. She used to when she was married. Russell would only decorate her in designer brands. But, she ditched those in favor of invisible simplicity five years ago. These days, her wardrobe was a lot more understated. With Jeans, t-shirts, dungarees (when she is painting), and endless colorful scarves for her hair. Also, sundresses. She was a sucker for a cute, sundress and sandals. Come to think of it… Khair might have to dress her for their upcoming epic finale. Being a model, she trusted her to style them accordingly. “You may have to lend me something from your closet then. Otherwise, I may just cramp your style.” A gentle laugh escapes her while thoughts continue to swirl inside of Karli’s head. After a minute of quiet deliberation, she sits up and focuses her eyes on the left side of Khair’s, gorgeous face. “This is going to sound really morbid but, I hope it doesn’t freak you out.” Something told her, that would be difficult. Khair didn’t seem like the type who scares easily. “Sometimes, I have dreams about killing him. I googled them once. Found out that these kind of fantasies are called intrusive thoughts. They consist of really dark, twisted, aggressive things you think about doing but you have no intention of acting on. Or when it comes down to it… don’t think yourself capable. In many of them, I’m holding a gun to his head. What’s scary though, is I actually own one.” She meant the gun. “It’s more so because I’m a single woman who lives alone and it makes me feel protected. But then I think… could I? It’s not like he wouldn’t deserve it. And if he ever found me, I’d have to use it.” If Karli was in her right mind, a sober mind, she’d realize she was spilling far too much now. Giving Khair too much insight onto a past she had no desire to relive. But her walls were down and Khair had this ability of making Karli believe in the impossible.

-

      Khair’s eyes narrowed. She was surprised by Karli’s admission yet utterly fascinated by it. Despite her own curiosity and feelings on the subject, murder remained something quite taboo. Fantasies of it even more so. Khair would venture to guess that anyone else would’ve perhaps felt alarm hearing the confession spill from Karli’s lips. She, on the other hand, only felt a deep understanding. It was freaky—- the way Karli reminded her so much of the darkest parts of herself. Their lives had paralleled one another and it was obvious their gruesome paths had led them to the same conclusion: that some men simply weren’t worth the air they breathed. Who knew that sitting across a pretty, charming woman, expensive bottles of wine emptying between, she’d see the same black fire burning inside—- flames fed by the sinister openness only two women wronged could share. For even if Karli was sugar, spice, and everything nice, she had no doubt there was something sleek and steely hidden beneath her angelic features. She could feel it—- the vampiric, misunderstood softness that could send any man meeting his maker. Black widows came in various forms and some of them looked just like Karli. Beautiful, inviting, and oh so dangerously sweet. She briefly wondered if the brunette herself had any idea how much power she wielded. If she didn’t, perhaps it was time someone showed her. Who knew? A lesson on the art of wrath and siren songs could do her some good. “I think you could,” Khair replied after a beat. “You wouldn’t have bought one if you didn’t think you could use it. So maybe it’s not about whether you could or couldn’t, but rather what would come after. Killing someone isn’t hard, living with it is. Personally, if this ex-husband of yours has you terrified enough to sleep with a gun under your pillow—- I’d say he deserves two shots to the chest and one to the dick. For good measure.” She set her glass on the table, elbows resting on her thighs as she leaned forward. “Besides, you’re not alone in your fantasies. Daniel wasn’t as much of a shitbag, but he had his ways. When I first found out about the affair, I wanted to kill him. Genuinely thought about it, I was so angry, but the idea of going to prison sort of nipped that. Unlike you, any murder on my part would’ve been from vengeance alone rather than self-defense so a long time in jail would’ve been a likely outcome. I didn’t want to give him any more of my life than I already had so I settled on ripping him apart legally. Since then, I’ve had daydreams of being some sort of Ms. 45, you know, killing men who’ve done women wrong. Probably won’t ever happen but fantasizing gives me a weird sense of relief. Like I get revenge in daydreaming alone. That said, if you ever do decide to put that gun to use, feel free to find your Kill Bill outfit in my closet. You’d be surprised how much confidence a good outfit can give you.” A wink punctuated the end of her sentence, only minimally toning down the sincerity behind. In the end, women like them needed to stick together—- laws and men be damned.

@klngbys​

[dispaters]

@klngbys​

       Jasper wasn’t sure what possessed him to pick up the paint. Meandering around Karli’s event, he was mildly surprised by the utter complexity and aestheticism of it all. Whatever her endeavors, they’d been tastefully accomplished. Every corner, wall, and crook bled her efforts in a marvelous way, enough so that he felt an odd wave of pride. She’d done a wonderful job and he was pleased to see it. Granted, he’d expected as much. Their conversation in the car had illuminated him on many things, Karli being one of them. Although he remained perturbed by some of the behavior she’d exhibited, it was the brightness in her eyes he couldn’t get out of his head. She was ignited by passion, enthusiasm, zeal. Karli was alive. Frightened, he suspected, but alive. A woman who felt everything and more. He admired her for it, perhaps even envied. All his life Jasper had felt like nothing more than a haunting, one that terrorized or merely existed depending on who you asked. Dwelling on the fringes of humanity, he often wondered what denoted a soul and whether he had one at all. It was a dramatic, morbid thought yet one that remained in his head all the same. Jasper Kiraz had felt once. Experienced pain, endured suffering, and lived through the heartbreak of being unwanted and unloved. But there was no glory in his survival. He’d carved himself out and left only the bare minimum—- the scraps of human existence. Ambition, hatred, frigidity, and indifference. Nothing more, nothing less. It’d worked well for a while, but as time went on, hollowness had come for a visit and she’d paid to stay.

       Thus, perhaps that was why he found himself gingerly writing on the model before him, his heart pounding in his chest. The minute tremble in his fingers was visible only to the closest onlooker though Jasper felt as if he was beneath a magnifying glass. His throat went dry as he carefully wrote his statement. Damaged. Was it a confession? a secret? or the simple outcome of horrors once experienced? he wasn’t sure, but it was there. Quickly putting down the paint, he briskly walked away, rounding the corner only to nearly crash into Karli. Shit. “Karli,” he greeted coolly, shoulders tense. He prayed she’d been too far to see his brief drop in guard. “I was hoping to find you. You know, I’ve never been one for art exhibitions and openings, but I may have to reconsider my stance if others are as good as yours. You did an impressive job. You happy with the night so far?”

[dispaters]

closed starter ———————› @scarmuses​

            Romeo wasn’t good. He wasn’t fine. And he most certainly wasn’t okay. His conversation with Olivia had been eye-opening, to say the least. The start of Autumn had brought on new beginnings and like the auburn leaves which crunched beneath his feet, Romeo was both crumbling and hoping for a metamorphosis. He wanted to change and yet the day felt doomed at best. It’d been eight months since he’d last taken her on a date. The time between had been a period he’d rather forget, each memory weighing heavy on his heart. He was, for all intents and purposes, sad. Yet like a beacon of light in the darkest hour, Olivia shined through. She was his sole silver lining—- the one propeller that kept him moving forward. His green light. Thus, he’d elected to try. Really try. So many months, years even, had been wasted and for what? He loved her. He was sure of it. Even if he didn’t understand how or why, he could feel the way her very presence moved his leaden soul. Choked him up and sent him spinning with indescribable emotion. Olivia Porter had always been the beginning and the end of Romeo Saint James. She was the cosmos—- a universe he couldn’t hope to comprehend but he’d spend his whole life admiring. Through all the pain, wickedness, and suffering, there’d been her. Eternal and beautiful. So as he walked alongside the park, her hand in his, Romeo’s chest swelled with love. It’d been a long time since he’d felt the demons hush. The tranquility of being by her side was a feeling he could spend the rest of his life experiencing. “I need you to promise you won’t laugh,” Romeo told her, boyish smile shyly displaying on his features. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this, so I’m working off the movies here.” His fingers clutched the bag in his hand tightly. “If you don’t like it, we can do something else. Just don’t tell me it sucks. My pride can’t handle that sort of honesty.” He was nervous. Romeo wanted so badly to make it work and he feared that he’d done too much. What he had planned was nothing short of a scene from a romcom—- romantic, cheesy, and highly uncomfortable for a man of his nature—- but it was for Olivia. A woman who deserved that and so much more. Gripping her hand, he stopped a few feet before the intended destination. “Close your eyes,” he told her. “And trust me.”

[dispaters]

pennedby​:

the problem is savannah’s not sure what those words are. whatever he gets out of her tonight likely won’t be looking for because if there’s one thing savannah’s not good at, it’s closure. sex, she knows. it’s the language she can speak, and for a while the language they shared before the book got torn apart before their very eyes. she’d be lying if even now her eyes weren’t raking down his body, recalling memories of her nails leaving crescent moons into his shoulders and her back arching so far off the bed she thought she might float away. he’s right; talking about it seems like a death sentence, and his answer is a non-answer. his place can mean any number of things, the easy and the hard route included, but savannah gives him the benefit of the doubt that he’ll make the smart choice. the easy choice. it’s why she finally nods slowly, seemingly coming to a decision. “lucky for you my cab’s already out front. something about wanting to run off into the milky moonlight.” her voice is still on edge, but there’s a resignation that lifts her from her seat before she pulls out a few more dollar bills to leave the bartender a tip. “let’s go.”

-

Joaquín shook his head: it was as if Savannah could read his mind. As much as he could piece her together, the blonde remained largely an enigma. There were moments when they’d laid down at night, breathless and exhausted, and he couldn’t help but wonder. Who she was, what she thought, and what secrets had buried themselves so deeply in the crevices of her thoughts. She perplexed him—- always remaining the slightest bit out of reach. Close enough to touch, but never to see. A shadow of a woman. “Of course you do,” he replied. “Always the girl with the getaway car.” With that, he stood up. It would be a messy night indeed.

Arriving outside his apartment, Joaquín fished his pockets for his keys. Once found, he pushed open the door, allowing Savannah the first steps in before closing the door behind them. Hand pressed on the light. “I’m sure you remember your way around,” he stated, sidling towards her. “You want a drink?” It was a pointless question considering the location they’d been in, but the inquiry itself wasn’t the point. Her response was. “You know, ease your nerves?”

[dispaters]

pennedby​:

they have different ways of dealing with things, it’s simple— savannah is queen of leaving chapters WIDE OPEN so they can come back and knock her feet out from underneath her years down the line. his desire to want to figure their issues out here, now feels stifling. she can feel it closing her throat down, and savannah covers her chin with her hand, elbow supported over the bar as she watches him try to rationalize to himself what it is he’d intended to get from tonight. but he’s softening— speaking earnestly, looking at her earnestly, and savannah feels her defenses relenting in turn. “so do you want answers or do you want to hate fuck?” eyes narrowing, she makes it clear that her question is serious— not a jest, not a biting comment, but honest curiosity. “as much as i’ve loved this little run-in, i don’t think it’s gonna happen again anytime soon. so pick.”

-

He supposed he should’ve expected a question like that. Savannah had long made it clear that discussing her feelings—- their feelings—- was less of a priority and more of an invasion. As secretive and distant as Joaquín thought himself to be, the blonde outranked him by a league and a half. He would go so far as to guess that she would be relieved if he picked the latter. Hell, he would be. Fucking their feelings out was infinitely more enticing than a conversation about it. Still, words would offer freedom. Closure. The only thing was that staring at Savannah, he wasn’t sure that’s what he wanted. So long as they could ignore whatever had happened, he had avenues to talk to her. Thus once the questions were answered, those roads ceased to exist and Savannah would fade into the moonlight. For good. Joaquín glanced down. “My place isn’t too far.” He wanted to talk. “We could go there.” He just didn’t want to let her go.

[dispaters]

pennedby​:

it was cruel, and it was intentional, but the rational part of her knows that it came from a place of wanting to hurt her back; not an innate characteristic of his that she’d somehow missed in the past. joaquín santillán isn’t cruel, and in fact, she’s seen much more sensitivity and vulnerability in him than either of them likely care to admit. the only difference is she hasn’t thrown it back in his face— YET. it’s tempting, bringing up something below the belt far more hurtful than overt alcoholism, but her own pain has made her wise enough to know that it wouldn’t heal any of the wounds already burrowed into her chest or ease her discomfort at seeing him. “what do you want, joaquin?” because that’s what it comes down to— that’s what she doesn’t understand. savannah’s fingers tuck her credit card back into her wallet deftly, eyes lifting to meet his with the so-called conviction he speaks of—— a conviction not to look weak. “you came over here, essentially told me to go fuck myself before obliterating my ability to have healthy relationships and told me the scene stopped there. either you want really angry sex or you don’t have a clue what it takes to co-exist with someone you don’t like, and i don’t know which one it is.”

-

Unbeknownst to Savannah, she’d asked the million dollar question. He’d spent years hunched over a bottle in an attempt to answer it. He had wishes, dreams, and hopes, but wants were an entirely different beast. His index finger lightly trailed the circular imprint of the wood. “That’s not why I came over here,” he replied. “Although I wouldn’t say no to really angry sex.” Brown eyes flickered over briefly, hoping to break the tension before returning to the empty glass in front of him. The ice was quickly melting and Joaquín was fixated on watching the driplets race down the side. It’d been a mistake to approach her. If he could rewind the scene now, he would’ve allowed her to slip off into the night. An evening full of regrets and words unsaid was certainly better than this. “I came over here for quite the opposite reason.” Joaquín felt the words catch in his throat, although he pressed on. “I was hoping to talk to you—- normally. You might be content with the way we left things, but I’m not. I figured by catching you before you ran again, I might be able to start to close the chapter. I don’t like messy endings and you have a way of making your absence known. I’d like to forget you, but it’s hard to do that when there’s more questions than answers. I see now that my hopes we misplaced, but believe me, Savannah, I didn’t come here to harass you or start a fight. Just so happened that’s where we ended up. Road to hell is paved with good intentions, hm?”