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@ellaetal
𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶 𝑒𝓉 𝒶𝓁. an independent, highly selective multimuse containing both canon & original characters. prioritising rich, dynamic threads & positive ooc relationships. potentially triggering content & strictly 21+ only. written by ella, thirty, british, she/they. please read rules before following.
affiliated with @razedhell, @rhodeshillcare, @coinicear, @emotionealie & @vulpesse ❤︎
muse list below the cut.
Even menacing af with somebody's blood on his face, I'd hit that. He can slaughter me afterwards, I'll die happy.
truth be told, she finds it endearing. she likes knowing that he thinks about these things, that he puts the effort in. their relationship in the past was good. but now? it was better. more mature, a second chance to be together which they'd both taken without looking back. and even with the changes in alfendi, belle's feelings remained the same. the love was still very much there. only now, she can be more open about it.
❝ you're right there. ❞ she agrees, ❝ you think i could ever get bored of you? ❞ shakes her head. a ridiculous notion. ❝ babe, you're more than enough to keep me on my toes. i'm never going to want anyone else. ❞ this is something she's certain of. ever since that first kiss between them at university, it's only been him.
SOME SMALL PART OF HIM WAS WAITING for it to crash and burn, for Belle to figure out that he wasn't worth the hassle, that her perception of him was far from reality, or that maybe, just maybe, she deserved better.
Alfendi hummed lightly, partly in acknowledgement of what she had said, partly to replace the need to say anything in return. It no longer came easily to him, the affection, the affirmation; he wanted to say something to the same effect, but found himself simply squeezing her hand, and saying, "I recall you almost going on a date not so long ago, before turning up at my house in that little dress of yours." Tone light, upbeat and teasing. It was difficult for him to be anything but. "What was his name? Mark? Matt? God, you could've been dating a Matt! Perish the thought."
// this is homosexual activity and i'm calling the police
❝ alright, alright. what's up your ass today? who made you cry? let's start there. i'll go slash their tires and egg their house and then we'll go out for drinks after. on me. problem solved. ❞ he moves closer, undeterred by how elsie had rejected his small gesture of kindness moments prior. it doesn't have to be a big deal if neither of them want it to be.
standing just behind her, he runs the tip of his finger along elsie's spine, scowling at the thought of anyone being particularly unkind to her. it doesn't sit right with julian. ❝ i fucking noticed, i'm just being a dumbass... can't exactly appreciate all of this when you're being all sad and shit. ❞
the summer has been a letdown thus far, no reprieve from the usual woes this year. work has been somewhat stagnant with all the big box stores selling records now, and the low morale bleeds into julian's personal life. god forbid he want to put his thoughts on pause by going down to the beach or drinking until he blacks out. ❝ i'll fuck off if you want me to. just don't dick me around about it. yes or no. ❞
SHE FELT HER SKIN TWITCH BENEATH HIS TOUCH, and she could not figure out whether the sensation was pleasant or not. Too light, she decided, so straightened herself and moved her arm backwards to slide easily around his waist, pulling him closer.
"No one," an obvious lie, but Elsie was not trying to be convincing. Julian not being much taller than she was, tugging him into a one-armed hug ended up with her ear to his collarbone rather than his chest, but the intention was not to be comfortable, merely to be close. That, and it was far easier to talk to him when he wasn't looking at her. "Just my, uh... someone in my family. He's kind of a dick, that's all. Wants me to come home."
And so long as he was visiting, Elsie would rather set herself alight than go back to London.
"I'm not dicking you around, babe, it's just--" With a sigh, she squeezed him a little tighter, head tilting against him so that she was facing the floor. "British people don' talk about stuff like you do. We don' all have therapists and... express our feelings and shit. You know I've never seen my brother cry? Like, I'm not sure he even can."
Swaths of people from across the board crowded into their individual corners, and she almost felt … relieved. Many times, fitness culture heralded itself as being exclusive to the point of cult-like ── a boys’ club, in which she had no place. But not a single soul had batted their eyes when she’d stepped over the threshold, and this was what she preferred. To simply disappear into the folds of life, exist as a background character, and breathe.
❛ Sometimes. A little of this, a little of that. ❜ Magdalena hums the words out thoughtfully, gaze lingering at the equipment scattered around the space. They were white lies of omission that wouldn’t hurt anybody, because she knew nobody cared. She certainly didn’t.
❛ ── But I’m going to be in town for about a month, and a mutual friend of ours told me about this place, so I wanted to come and check it out … see if maybe you’d let me kick around for a little while. Would that be alright? ❜
POOR PEOPLE GENERALLY HAD FEWER FUCKS TO GIVE, at least in Robbie's experience. No one cared where you came from, why you came, or how long you were staying; anyone who got in with this crowd, the waifs and strays, was welcome to stick around for as long as they wanted.
He listened to her speak, did so as his punches slowed, softened, and eventually came to a halt entirely. Steadying the bag, Robbie looked down at Magdalena through a heavy, sweat-laden brow, and slowly began unwinding the wraps that had been secured around his wrists whilst giving her a vague, noncommittal nod.
"Don' see why not," he said, lifting a broad shoulder in the form of a shrug. "Twen'y a month, jus' for upkeep. Come an' go as you please, but we gotta make sure y'know what you're doin', get ya to sign a few forms. Safety first an' all tha'." Briefly, he paused, just long enough to stuff his wraps into a nearby duffle bag. "Tha's for gym membership, anyway. The women's self-defence stuff is free, I jus' do tha' meself. Same for kids, if ya got any."
❛ ❛ tha's bait an' am not fallin' for it. ❜ ❜ but just like a fish lured to a worm on a hook, she takes it anyway. typical bunny. ❛ ❛ right, well, we got better nightlife for one. ❜ ❜ the blonde starts, turning her head to look at him with the slightest hint of a smug expression on her features as if she's already won the argument.
❛ ❛ 'sides, wha' you got, huh? overpriced food, shitty tourist traps an' a big bloody clock? get t' fuck. ❜ ❜ listen, manchester may be a shithole but it was her shithole and she was going to defend it until her last breath.
THE SMOKING AREA of a nightclub in Manchester was a pretty stupid place to start such a debate, but he'd had a few to drink. Not enough to enjoy the city, mind, but enough to be a fraction more social than usual. "We are the nightlife righ' now, and it's fuckin' shit," he told her with a laugh, gesturing to the ground upon which they stood as best he could with a beer in one hand and a fag in the other. "You're talkin' abou' tourist London, which is shit, 'cause it's for tourists. You 'aven' been to proper London, where you can 'ave a proper curry, drink a proper pint, an' 'ave old lady neighbours bake you pies an' cakes. Doesn' get better than tha', mate."
𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓, 𝐒𝐎 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐍𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐘'𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐏𝐇 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 ( … ) 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒, 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄. after all, he had poured two glasses, hadn't he ? he had repeated an intimate ritual that they had performed countless times before, so that must have meant something⸻ or at least, this is what her foolish heart had desperately repeated to itself, over and over again whilst the red liquid filled both crystal glasses, for no other reason than to deceive itself. the truth, however, is that such a hopeless self - deceit could not last for long.
non - human, animal ... an animal who could only play pretend.
her steps halted at the entrance of the kitchen. suddenly, her vision was smeared by the blur of unshed tears ; the contours of his familiar figure were smudged, until only a splotch of pallid hues remained. still, his words echoed against her ears: loud and boisterous in their accusations, sharper than her claws, more hideous than her fangs. her muscles had instinctively tensed, but this was not a fight that she could have won ( ... ) even if her soul was being torn asunder, his words spoke the undeniable albeit shameful truth. she had lied to him, because she was neither the gentle florist nor the passionate lover, she was naught but an egoistical and selfish beast. a beast desperate to be loved, even if it meant feeding her beloved with nothing more than a thousand saccharine lies.
it was then, that she realized the grievous mistake that she had made. a lament of raw agony was arduously swallowed, but she could not exorcise its lingering specter from the cadence of her voice. ❝ i had not expected that you would fall in love with someone like me. you had been kind to me that night, so i wanted to be kind to you, too ... but then i fell in love with you, and my selfish heart could not bear the prospect of losing you. ❞ her gaze fell, and so did her tails. they disappeared once more, if only to eliminate the implications etched into their very existence: the reminder that she was not human, and that she would never be. ❝ i had selfishly hoped that you would have eventually gotten tired of me, because that would have saved you from the ugly truth. but you never left⸻ and your happiness became the most important thing, to me. ❞ a brief pause. the curvature of plush tiers is slanted upwards into a smile ; bitter, apologetic. ❝ i'm sorry for loving you, alfendi ... in the end, even if i tried my best, i couldn't be anything more than the poor imitation of a human lover. ❞
HIS CHEST ACHED MORE NOW than when he had been shot through it, for Alfendi had wrongfully assumed that a creature such as she would not be capable of loving a mortal man, that he was merely a distraction for her, a plaything with which she might fill her time. It would have been easier, in some ways, for that to be the truth, for him to mean nothing to her, because then he might have been able to let her go. He might have been freed.
But Ahri spoke, and it was evident that while she had lied about her form, she had never lied about her feelings. Alfendi listened, although he could not bring himself to look at her, gaze remaining fixated on the kitchen floor as his hand came to settle over his stomach, the other still placed, steadying him, on the countertop. For a moment, he dared to let his thoughts drift to recollections of his mother, how her form of love had been nothing short of monstrous, how she had permitted his abuse and starved him of affection in equal measure. Ahri spoke of how her form of love paled in comparison to that of a human, and Alfendi only wished that that were true, but in his experience, hers was the only love he had never needed to resist, escape or acclimatise to.
"A poor imitation," he repeated softly, wishing that there was some flaw in her he could pick out and use against her - a reason to no longer want her - besides the very essence of what she was. A toothed and bloodthirsty monster, and still hers was the only touch he didn't recoil from. "Perhaps the fault is mine," he told her, his tall frame uncharacteristically small in that moment as he bent over, curving around the hand still placed against his stomach, as if desperately trying to stop himself from falling apart. "Perhaps I saw what I wanted to see. I should've known better..."
The inspector trailed off, and was silent for a beat or two, only to eventually chuckle - albeit weakly - to himself, his hand moving from his stomach to his face, thumb and forefinger pressing against his closed eyes.
"I don't even know what you are," he continued, hand moving to brush his curls away from his face, and he finally straightened, wearing a smile that held no humour, yet seemed to be the only thing holding him together. "What are we to you? Humans, I mean. Equals? Predators?" The smile faltered, just for a moment. "Prey?"
˚₊‧꒰ა 🤎🚪💛 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ -> THE SUDDEN LOSS OF .. heat against her hips , caused a soft whine to escape the back of ellie's throat. she doesn't mean for it to even happen - it just comes out. she flushes. and then ignores it. well , tries to anyway. tilting her head back .. she catches his gaze. he's serious , she knows. but so is she. so - she listens. she promises. kind of. he's just too pretty. to focus entirely on what he was saying. small nose scrunches upward. the brunette would tolerate it. but she would hate it at the same time. ❝ i couldn't sleep. ❞ she whispered. body stepping closer to his. ❝ and when i can't sleep .. ❞ ellie continued. ❝ i tend to bake. ❞ brows raise. she knows this side of london is .. terrible. awful really. but ellie wasn't defenseless. have you seen the size of her kitchen knives ? ❝ and i know that sometimes you probably don't eat. ❞ head tilts to the side and sly grin crosses her lips .. before she steps away. moving over to one of the benches. sitting on top - was a container. full of probably pastries that weren't meant to be eaten this late at night. but she had no other inspiration. proper food was hard some days. ❝ so i thought i'd bring it to you. ❞ her grin was almost shit eating. boy does she love pushing buttons.
IT WAS A POOR EXCUSE, considering all Robbie did was eat, and Ellie was usually the one feeding him. She was a tease, too, stepping closer like that before moving away entirely. His gaze followed her, his seriousness remaining despite the soft, subtle smile that pulled at his mouth, too fond of her silliness to remain truly neutral. That, plus the sight of her as she walked away was more tempting than anything that could possibly be in that container of hers.
"Ellie," his voice was low and his tone held a trace of warning as Robbie followed her. Sweet as the gesture was, he wasn't letting her off that lightly, and had learned in the few months they'd been dating that if sound reason didn't get results, there were other methods he could employ. "Come 'ere." The command was accompanied with a beckoning wave, and he bought her into him by her wrist, his other hand reaching for her jaw. His palm, still wrapped, rested gently against her throat while his fingers tilted her face upwards to look at him, Robbie gave Ellie an all-too-knowing smile. "Tell me you're not gonna do this again. Need t'hear you say it."
(x)
"slurred words" (I think you know for who *cough*Beyond*cough*)
@gloomyrains
"I'M ALWAYS THE DOMINANT ONE," he stated in all sincerity, a hand to his chest. "And I... I usually don't much care for being pinned down, or... ravished in any sense of the word, but-- you know, I think I would let that man top me. Look at him, for goodness sake! It's like his face was carved by hand."
"slurred words" for beyond!
@lycancursed
"YOU KNOW THAT FEELING," he told his latest victim, one that would suffering his rambling, rather than his knife. He wasn't certain which was worse. "When a woman could definitely kill you, but... she's quite charismatic and... weirdly attractive, so you figure... well, if I have to die anyway... maybe... maybe I'll let her!"
❝ are you sure it's the exams? ❞ in her hand, she holds a glass of water and some painkillers, placing them to his side. ❝ or the hangover? i told you not to stay out but did you listen? no. ❞ now, belle sits. ❝ you chose it because you love it. and you'll do great. ❞
"IT CAN BE BOTH," he remarked dryly, lifting his head just long enough to take the painkillers from her, downing them before bothering to take a sip of water. "And no, actually, I took criminology to disappoint my father-- which did not work, because the man is insufferably kind and understanding... as are you." His head returned to the table. "You're far too nice to me. I require more bullying, please and thank you very much."
❝ on it. ❞ the smell doesn't bother marty, a childhood of incense mixed with weed and nicotine. it feels homely so marty finds herself relaxing. she doesn't bother moving the blankets or pillows, simply jumps, spins, and lands on the pile with... no grace at all. but it's soft so nothing hurts, only her dignity, and she's surprised by that. she's sure she had none left. ❝ i'm warnin' you now, i might accidentally copy your accent at some point so- sorry in advance. and pop on whatever yah want. ❞
ELSIE'S HOME WAS TEMPORARY, as hers often were, and it showed in the way she'd hung an old tapestry over her windows rather than fitting a rail or buying curtains, or how the sofa had evidently been slept on in the not-so-distant past. She did, to her credit, actually own a kettle, and popped it on before returning to the living room.
"Do you even know what accent I have, babe?" she asked, a brow raised, wandering over to the small, colourful jewellery box on her coffee table and taking a pre-rolled joint from it. "Or do you call 'em all 'British accents' and call it a day?"
@fukstar from here
HE REGARDED HER AS HE WOULD ANY OTHER, equality being the very foundation the gym was built upon. Robbie wasn't the political sort, granted, but if having a single mother and a hapless sister had taught him one thing, it was that everyone needed some place to go where they felt safe, secure, and wouldn't be bogged down with the usual labels. Man, woman, model, boxer, didn't matter. They had their reasons for being here.
He chuckled at her remark, the sound coming out in bursts as he swung for the bag in front of him, murmuring a quiet, breathless "fair point" between blows that landed with dense, muted thuds. The sweat dripped off him, shirt long discarded, but among the worn-out gym equipment and bare, undecorated walls, the man looked very much at home. "That's what you do, then?" Robbie continued after a moment, his movements softening in a manner that suggested he was cooling down. "Modellin' an' that?"
