Man of the Hour! @last-curtain-call - Tumblr Blog

“I taste you on my lips, and I can’t get rid of you!~”

Ah, darling, you finally came back to me! I know you can’t get enough of these games we play, of the timeless roles I give you. You like the attention they give us, don’t you?

…don’t worry, I like the attention too. I’ve given you everything, and by God, you look beautiful with the world in your hands. Why don’t we share that treasure? With my help, you can forget about everything else. I’m yours, and you’re mine.

We’re the stars of this wild show, and we’re going to make the world worship us.

#markiplier rp #actor mark rp #actor mark introject #markiplier egos rp #Dressing room.

2+3, because I’m an idiot who can’t read

I'm pansexual, and it's not really much of a secret since I flirt with everyone. I'm sure most people have gotten the idea.

#Dressing Room.#Bo.

lost-soul-in-time

At first, he had just been showing up in Oliver's dreams.

There was a whisper here and there, an unidentifiable touch on his lower back, the feeling that something was very wrong... Then it evolved into something more. A shadowy figure standing in the far corner of the spirit's mind, a quick-moving blur in the corner of his vision, the suffocating feeling that someone was going to hurt Oliver. The very moment he woke up, however, that feeling was usually gone as if it was nothing but a bad dream.

When that feeling started bleeding into the conscious moments of the day, however, it was a sign that the appearances were more than just nightmares.

A wilting, crimson rose left on the bedside table. The smell of a rotting corpse poorly covered up by the equally nauseating smell of too much expensive cologne. A cold, familiar chuckle that echoes through the empty halls. The sound of claws scraping across the freshly painted walls, leaving behind white lines that proved someone, no... something... was there. Windows and doors that were previously closed opened just a crack, the breeze seeping into the house and disrupting neatly organized papers. The soft 'plink' of a single piano note.

No...

A slow, uneasy melody begins echoing throughout the dark house at about two in the morning. It sounds as if whoever's playing it is inexperienced with music, the notes being played sounding staccato and hesitant. It had been ages since Oliver had taught Mark the simple melody after all, and almost a century of living in a stolen body had proven to make Mark Iplier's joints a little stiffer than they used to be.

- @last-curtain-call

At first, Oliver believed he had begun to finally lose his sanity. It was a miracle it hadn’t happened sooner, and the anomalous sounds he would hear deep at night only seemed to confirm his suspicion. Except, he began to feel someone, something lurking in the shadows. Every night he closed his eyes and expected to be met with another blurred flash of movement, he would be met with the feeling of being watched. It was enough to send chills rushing up and down his body every time, and he soon found himself wide awake every day in bed when the sun would set and the moon would take its place. The light of it would do nothing to bring any attention to the culprit of his paranoia.

Tonight was different from the rest, however.

The first piano note barely rings out in the empty space before his eyes are snapping open from his attempt at sleep, head barely tilting to stare at the wide-open bedroom door. A presence, the same darkness accompanied by something sinister, has returned. It feels stronger than ever, almost suffocatingly so, and Oliver finds his body working on autopilot as he slowly begins to push himself out of bed and following the uneven keys being played.

Every step closer to the instrument he hasn’t touched in so long feels as if he’s walking into danger, a pit growing in his stomach from unease and anticipation. Whatever has been messing with him these past few weeks would not go unresolved, and as uncertain as Oliver may feel, he’s never been one to run from danger. That’s why when he met with the back of what appeared to be a person from afar and he nearly feels his heart begin to beat again in alarm, he doesn’t stop in his tracks, he doesn’t try to step away from it as if he could escape before he was detected, and he most definitely doesn’t bump into the small decorative table in the hallway, wood rubbing against the floor from its movement.

His eyes never look away. He doesn’t move, and instead he waits for whatever fate it had planned for him.

last-curtain-call

At the sound of a table scraping against the floor just slightly, the piano music stops. Mark smooths out the fabric of his crimson suit, turning around and giving Oliver that signature, movie-star smile. Despite the fact that his teeth were razor sharp, like the kind you'd find in a shark's maw, he was almost as beautiful as he was so long ago. In the darkness of the house, it was difficult to see how he caked on his makeup to disguise the look of rotting skin that laid underneath. "Oliver! What a surprise," he greeted, cheerful voice jarring. "God, it's been ages, hasn't it? Almost a century now... and you've barely changed a bit, look at you!"

He steps away from the piano towards Oliver, examining the black claws that portuded from its fingertips. Despite his undeniable beauty, it was clear that there was something inhuman about Mark now. It seemed as if he was surrounded by a dark aura, one that would make plants wither and die by the mere experience of being in the Hero's presence.

He hums calmly, slightly yellowing eyes scanning the house as he strokes the stubble growing on his chin. "I like what you've done with the place, although this could definitely use some more color. What did you end up doing with those roses I left for you? They would've been the perfect splash of red, in my humble opinion." Beyond his calm exterior, it was clear that something was very wrong with Mark. The smell of death that lingered around the house was much stronger now, barely concealed by the familiar smell of his cologne, and it was obvious that the smell was coming from the tall thespian in front of Oliver.

"You know, I could help you decorate if you need me to— I'm not exactly low on cash, so I could buy you some new furniture! Marc Newson has some really lavish sofas we could buy, maybe I could even find someone to make some new curtains and cabinets for you." His grin widens, the expression almost predatory in nature. "What do you say, old pal?"

lost-soul-in-time

The look of bewildered horror that crosses onto Oliver’s face gives away every emotion he could never verbalize.

Mark.

Even in the darkness, he could recognize that proud voice anywhere. He’d recognize him even if he were disguised, even in madness, by his presence alone no matter how much of a horribly wrong and sinister aura surrounded him. Except this couldn’t be Mark, this had to be another one of his cruel dreams. The figure that always lurked in them had decided to taunt him with the image, is all. As it steps closer to him, Oliver instinctively takes a step back and away from Mark no not mark, afraid of letting what he believed to be an impersonator get too close to him, much less one that could see him. The body language, the way it carried himself with such confidence and even smelled just like his cologne—

If it weren’t for the reek of death underneath it, maybe Oliver would’ve believed him sooner. But the sight of razor sharp teeth, clawed fingers, the far too calm exterior that likely harbored something else deep within did nothing to convince him. “What the hell?” He breathes out, turning his back on Mark but not stepping away just yet. His hands raise up to his face to rub away the exhaustion, or maybe he’s trying to wake himself up somehow. Anything would be better than being haunted by the image of a loved one he knows he’s long lost over the years.

“You are not my ‘pal’, you’re not him.” Oliver firmly responds, as if the statement would be proven to be true if he said it with enough certainty. Once he’s sure he’s collected himself enough to face it, he runs a hand through his hair before turning back around to look at him, swallowing down the lump in his throat from the familiar beauty he once admired and hiding any emotion with a hard glare. “If this is some cruel tactic to taunt me, it won’t work.”

last-curtain-call

"Oh, you're still so cute when you're scared, Oliver!" he coos condescendingly, approaching the taller man until he was directly in front of him and patting his cheek with a freezing hand. "What, do you want me to start stripping so you can remember me a little better? God knows he had enough sex that surely seeing my dick would be enough to stir up some memories, eh old pal?" Laughter bubbles up from the Protagonist's chest, the same exact arrogant chuckle that he had almost a century ago.

Despite the yellowing scleras of Mark's brown eyes, the razor sharp teeth that somehow remained a perfect shade of white, and the hideous claws that protruded from his soft fingertips, it was obvious that it really was Mark. No hallucination could copy the sheer arrogance that only Mark could possess, the cruelty hidden behind a pretty face that was caked in foundation and concealer and eyeliner.

"How's life treating you, buddy? Or— well, more accurately the afterlife?" He chuckles to himself. "You know, when I saw your obituary in the newspaper, I could hardly believe it! Murdered, with your two parents right next to you... people were spreading rumors that you killed 'em, but I never believed that. You were always too nice to do something like that, no matter how shitty your daddy was behind closed doors. No, I think he was the one who killed you guys, especially with how gruesome the scene of the crime supposedly was."

He paused for a moment, thinking for a second before clearing his throat. "But, uh... that's probably a pretty touchy subject. Sorry." It hums, running a finger over a dusty countertop and examining it with a hum. "Maybe I should've warned you I'd be stopping by so you could've hired a housekeeper or something— I know you used to be so picky about keeping your place all tidy. Or maybe that was just because you wanted to impress me."

#Enjoy the Show.#Old... friends.#lost-soul-in-time #Suggestive.

stallionrpresources

Pride Asks 🏳️‍🌈

1. “Have you came out yet? If not, why not?”

2. How many people know your sexual identity?

3. What do you identify as sexuality wise?

4. What do you identify as romance wise?

5. What do you identify as gender wise?

6. If trans, have you transitioned all the way?

7. Does your parents accept you?

8. How about your friends or significant other(s)?

9. Talk about the person who made you question your sexuality!

10. Would you like to attend pride?

11. Have you attended pride before?

12. Name a LGBTQ+ character/celebrity/etc that you look up to.

13. How good is your gaydar?

14. Do you dress more masculine, feminine, or androgynous?

15. Do you have any friend that are LGBTQ+?

16. Was it easy or hard for you to come out?

17. How long did it take you to come out?

18. Do YOU accept your sexuality?

19. Do you like your flag colors? If not, why? What would you change them to?

20. Do you wear makeup?

21. Has anyone come out to you? Did you accept them?

22. Have you had any experiences with someone who was homophobic? How did you handle it?

#Poker night.

lost-soul-in-time

At first, he had just been showing up in Oliver's dreams.

There was a whisper here and there, an unidentifiable touch on his lower back, the feeling that something was very wrong... Then it evolved into something more. A shadowy figure standing in the far corner of the spirit's mind, a quick-moving blur in the corner of his vision, the suffocating feeling that someone was going to hurt Oliver. The very moment he woke up, however, that feeling was usually gone as if it was nothing but a bad dream.

When that feeling started bleeding into the conscious moments of the day, however, it was a sign that the appearances were more than just nightmares.

A wilting, crimson rose left on the bedside table. The smell of a rotting corpse poorly covered up by the equally nauseating smell of too much expensive cologne. A cold, familiar chuckle that echoes through the empty halls. The sound of claws scraping across the freshly painted walls, leaving behind white lines that proved someone, no... something... was there. Windows and doors that were previously closed opened just a crack, the breeze seeping into the house and disrupting neatly organized papers. The soft 'plink' of a single piano note.

No...

A slow, uneasy melody begins echoing throughout the dark house at about two in the morning. It sounds as if whoever's playing it is inexperienced with music, the notes being played sounding staccato and hesitant. It had been ages since Oliver had taught Mark the simple melody after all, and almost a century of living in a stolen body had proven to make Mark Iplier's joints a little stiffer than they used to be.

- @last-curtain-call

At first, Oliver believed he had begun to finally lose his sanity. It was a miracle it hadn’t happened sooner, and the anomalous sounds he would hear deep at night only seemed to confirm his suspicion. Except, he began to feel someone, something lurking in the shadows. Every night he closed his eyes and expected to be met with another blurred flash of movement, he would be met with the feeling of being watched. It was enough to send chills rushing up and down his body every time, and he soon found himself wide awake every day in bed when the sun would set and the moon would take its place. The light of it would do nothing to bring any attention to the culprit of his paranoia.

Tonight was different from the rest, however.

The first piano note barely rings out in the empty space before his eyes are snapping open from his attempt at sleep, head barely tilting to stare at the wide-open bedroom door. A presence, the same darkness accompanied by something sinister, has returned. It feels stronger than ever, almost suffocatingly so, and Oliver finds his body working on autopilot as he slowly begins to push himself out of bed and following the uneven keys being played.

Every step closer to the instrument he hasn’t touched in so long feels as if he’s walking into danger, a pit growing in his stomach from unease and anticipation. Whatever has been messing with him these past few weeks would not go unresolved, and as uncertain as Oliver may feel, he’s never been one to run from danger. That’s why when he met with the back of what appeared to be a person from afar and he nearly feels his heart begin to beat again in alarm, he doesn’t stop in his tracks, he doesn’t try to step away from it as if he could escape before he was detected, and he most definitely doesn’t bump into the small decorative table in the hallway, wood rubbing against the floor from its movement.

His eyes never look away. He doesn’t move, and instead he waits for whatever fate it had planned for him.

last-curtain-call

At the sound of a table scraping against the floor just slightly, the piano music stops. Mark smooths out the fabric of his crimson suit, turning around and giving Oliver that signature, movie-star smile. Despite the fact that his teeth were razor sharp, like the kind you'd find in a shark's maw, he was almost as beautiful as he was so long ago. In the darkness of the house, it was difficult to see how he caked on his makeup to disguise the look of rotting skin that laid underneath. "Oliver! What a surprise," he greeted, cheerful voice jarring. "God, it's been ages, hasn't it? Almost a century now... and you've barely changed a bit, look at you!"

He steps away from the piano towards Oliver, examining the black claws that portuded from its fingertips. Despite his undeniable beauty, it was clear that there was something inhuman about Mark now. It seemed as if he was surrounded by a dark aura, one that would make plants wither and die by the mere experience of being in the Hero's presence.

He hums calmly, slightly yellowing eyes scanning the house as he strokes the stubble growing on his chin. "I like what you've done with the place, although this could definitely use some more color. What did you end up doing with those roses I left for you? They would've been the perfect splash of red, in my humble opinion." Beyond his calm exterior, it was clear that something was very wrong with Mark. The smell of death that lingered around the house was much stronger now, barely concealed by the familiar smell of his cologne, and it was obvious that the smell was coming from the tall thespian in front of Oliver.

"You know, I could help you decorate if you need me to— I'm not exactly low on cash, so I could buy you some new furniture! Marc Newson has some really lavish sofas we could buy, maybe I could even find someone to make some new curtains and cabinets for you." His grin widens, the expression almost predatory in nature. "What do you say, old pal?"

#Enjoy the show.#Old... friends.#lost-soul-in-time

Happy pride month, my darlings. You'll find that absolutely none of the people in our system are straight, and that includes me.

I hope you all take pride in your queer identities, and if you're not able to celebrate in public, I hope you're able to take pride in the fact that your queer family is always going to be here to support you.

#Dressing room.

blood-falling

Every story needed its roles. It wasn't as if Mark could be considered anything other than a hero, oh no... not when all the "bad" things he'd done were meant to graciously hand a role to even those he considered unworthy. The hero— himself. The villain— Pitch. The fool... Wilford. All of them played a part in this wonderful little story that Mark had sacrificed everything to write. No matter how selfish his villain or his fool believed him to be, Mark was really the one they should be thanking for so generously handing them those roles without a second thought.

A fancy envelope with a wax seal in the shape of an intricately-designed "M" had been slipped under the door to Pitch Lovelace's office, resting on the floor where they could easily see it.

The letter enclosed reads the following:

"Dearest Antagonist,

I expect that we are to have our scheduled battle scene today, as we have been planning for the last few months. I expect that you've been studying the script that I've written for you, so please do not disappoint me with your appearance at my manor today.

Of course, because I picked out your role so accordingly, it is extremely doubtful that you will upset me with your performance. As great as I am at playing the hero in this little game of ours, you are an irreplaceable villain.

I hope to see what today's performance entails.

Your beloved protagonist,

Mark Iplier."

- @last-curtain-call

They knew this was coming. They had been expecting it. Roped into an eternal game with Mark pulling the strings... This was inevitable.

Icy dread flooded their veins when the script came in. They knew this would happen, but not how soon. There's an undeniable pressure to every practice. Table reads with tightrope tension, blocking with cutthroat undertones.

They take their seat in their hearse, driving out to the manor. It's good to be a little early, and even better to be cautious.

They brought weapons, as instructed. A gun and a knife, both tucked safely away in their coat.

Their car pulls up into the driveway, parking carefully. The Manor feels like home. The Manor feels like a gaping mouth.

Pitch rings the doorbell, clasping their arms behind their back. They are prepared for the sickly sweet exchanges that always come with this. They don't remember when they both decided to be overly polite to each other, but it was fun, moreso than they would dare admit.

As the door opens, Pitch smiles with all the warmth it could. There isn't much. They're quite cold, being dead.

"Mark, darling, so good to see you."

last-curtain-call

Mark has taken all the steps to endure that this performance— although it's just practice— is perfect. His maroon, three-piece suit has been ironed so that there are no wrinkles in the smooth fabric, his stage makeup has been applied heavily to conceal the rotting flesh undeneath despite the fact that he was unable to hide the razor sharp teeth in his maw and the claws that protruded from his fingers.

The smell of death emanating from the Hero was hardly overpowered by the copius amount of expensive cologne sprayed over Mark's skin and robes, but from a distance, he could almost be mistaken as a human.

He opens the door and smiles at Pitch, shark-like teeth perfectly white and straight. Even with the demonic features that he was unable to hide, Mark looked like he walked straight out of the set of a Hollywood romantic-comedy.

"My darling antagonist, I—" It paused for a moment, clearly puzzled by something. "...ah, you seem to have forgotten to apply your makeup today. Not that I mind seeing your pretty face, but you don't look quite as evil without the heavy eyeliner." His smile returned, opening up the door to the manor a bit wider.

"Come in. I had hoped to practice our battle sequence right away, but there's always enough time for makeup." He chuckles quietly. "It'll give me a chance to catch up with you as well, since I've recently fired my third makeup artist this week."

#Enjoy the show.#The Villain.#blood-falling

drowned-bitch

Could it be... blood?

I welcome you, my lovely creature, to the flooded gates of my humble abode. If you want to speak with me, I want you to give me all the gory details of your life, your social security number, your credit card info... and a kiss.

I’m only joking, of course. Please... come sit with me. But that kiss doesn’t sound too bad...~

prinxejeanne

Hey y'all!! Promoting this so y'all see why I'm not posting under @drowned-bitch-archive anymore sjsjsj

#Dressing room.

joeyclaire

he’s so babygirl the murders he committed just made him cuter

the-haiku-bot

he’s so babygirl

the murders he committed

just made him cuter

Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.

#Mirror mirror.

She follows at his side like a lovesick little puppy, unabashedly taking him in. The smell of his perfume, the warmth of his gaze, practically already melting against the feeling of fingers against her waist. She bit her lip, pink flush turning slightly red. What a fucking tease. There were practically stars shining in her eyes as he led her over to the most exhorebitent looking couch she had ever seen in her life.

She sits down with a nod and a quick thanks, her eyes wandering back to his own before chuckling lightly. "Seriously," her tone shifts to something a little more serious. "You don't need to worry about anything like that." Her eyes trace his lips for a moment as his eyes take in her visage. A small shudder graces her shoulders just as the wine glass if offered. "A-Ah yes, thank you."

Her gaze trails after him, watching the way his body moves as he turns. The voice of desire already attempting to imagine what it would feel like to touch and to be touched in return....Ah he's coming back over! She holds her right hand out to meet Mark's in the middle, smiling as the back of their palms brush by one another momentarily.

Taking a long sip from the wine, she follows his lead in leaning in closer. "Oh, someone you know. Dark hair, beautiful brown eyes, the kind of voice that commands attention..." Her eyes fall back to his lips. "...sound familiar?~"

She was... very obviously looking at Mark's lips, and the Protagonist couldn't help but grin. There was a sinister look in his eyes, as if he knew how easily manipulated Cici could be. No, he didn't see it as manipulation in his mind. He saw it as simply... playing a role in order to get what he wanted. He was giving her what she wanted in return, so could it really be considered manipulation. He leans even closer, his lips mere centimeters away from hers and looks her in the eyes. He stays there for a second, before leaning back and taking another long sip of the wine. "Oh, I'm not sure," he muses, gently swirling the red liquid around in his glass amd chuckling. "Maybe if you list more compliments, I'll be able to figure out which lucky man you're talking about."

His fingertips trail softly against her shoulder blades through her shirt, deciding that he wanted a tease for a little longer before indulging in more... carnal activities. "Of course, I shouldn't pry too much. As much as I absolutely despise Celine, we are still legally married. It would be an awful scandal if it was discovered that a prominent actor such as myself was caught alone, having a drink with the District Attorney of our little town. I mean, imagine what kind of debauchery they would assume we were getting up to here." Despite the topic of conversation, Mark's voice was suave and low, his eyes never leaving hers for even a second.

"Well, I'm sure they'd be under the assumption that I was pinning you to the bed, having you writhe with pleasure underneath me as I... my my, what a shame. My thoughts have the tendency to wander, it seems." He lets out a low chuckle, looking at his own reflection in the dark wine. He truly understood that he was a rather ravishing specimen, and he took pride in that fact.

After all, the public tended to be more forgiving towards people they were attracted to, and if it ever did get out of the manor that Mark was sleeping with someone other than the woman he was married to... he was sure the Celine would be painted in a villainous light. The thought thrilled him. Still, he would rather avoid the shame associated with the fact that Celine betrayed him first, so he hoped that Cici would be able to keep her pretty mouth shut in that situation.

#Enjoy the show!#Ask to tag.#selfshippinglover #codi don't look

rj0186

Honestly I love Actor!Mark, I think he's a really well written chracter so this one was super fun to do.

____________________________________

Actor!Mark

#Mirror mirror.

pukicho

I love making shit up and lying to people and never telling them the truth

#Mirror Mirror.

jam-campasta

I reanimated my part for @kenmarlenn’s Who Killed Markiplier Reanimated MAP! Pls ignore the fact I replaced the music with some royalty-free stuff and enjoy ;w;

#Oh look at me. I'm a beautiful specimen.#Mirror Mirror.#codi don't look

She shrugs a little, a smile sitting casually on her face. "Ah that's alright. I'm sure I'll catch up with Ben later anyways." She waves her right hand dismissively, hugging her sleeves closer to her body. Why'd it have to be so cold on a day I just happened to need to dress to impress? Ci steps closer to Mark, watching as the door swings open like a cage door to a rat. A chill runs down her spine but she asserts that's it just the chill outside as she follows Mark to the doorway. Her face only flushing darker at the man's charming words. She bit her bottom lip, stopping herself from saying something back.

Though she had already visited a few times now, she still couldn't get over just how massive the mansion truly was. Just stepping across the doorway was like stepping into a whole another world filled to the brim with glamour, glitz, opulence. With more money than she could even conceive of, a treasure trove of expensive objects, and many more rarities all captured for display in the mansion just because Mark wished it to be so. They really did live in two different worlds, huh? Even her decently sized paycheck from being an attorney couldn't even measure up to a fourth of his steep well of wealth. Even so, all the riches couldn't dare to compete with whatever light seemed to shine off of Mark naturally.

"I-It's not selfish at all, Mark." She flutters her eyelashes, a grin lighting up her features. "I....wanted to see you too." Cici doesn't mean to let that amount of longing slip into her tone but being alone with him and being bombarded with all these compliments? He was already getting to her. She had never been one to be adorned with poetic words by pretty strangers. She had been considered nothing more than average in her own eyes. "D-Dames in I aren't in a romantic r-relationship." She trips over her words momentarily, eyes widened and cheeks straining red. She leaned into the touch, heart starting to pound in her chest. Had he been so touchy last time she'd seen him? "H-He's my best friend, sure, but neither of us feel that way about each other." Ci finds her composure returning a little as she briefly recalls a late night chat about life, love, and everything in between from a month ago that she had shared with Damian only a couple moths prior. "He's got his eyes on someone else anyways." She smiles, face softening. "and so do I..."

The friendly mask slips for just a moment, a sadistic grin spreading across his face before Mark remembers what he's trying to do and regains his composure. From what he could tell, it seemed as Cici would be so easy to mold to his will. She was more enamoured with him than he'd previously thought, and that just stroked Mark's ego beyond compare.

His fingers traced small circles on her waist as he led her to the couch, motioning for her to sit down on the lush red cushions. "Here, take a seat. And Damien has a love interest? My my, I wonder who that might be... if you insist that it isn't you, I suppose I should avoid getting jealous of our intrepid mayor." His eyes rake over her body, humming quietly before glancing over at the brand new bottle of wine that was sitting on his countertop. "Would you like a drink, darling? I have a bottle of wine that I've been dying to open up." Of course, Mark really hadn't been shy with opening up and drinking countless bottles of wine ever since Celine left, but maybe he could get drunk off of Cici's body instead after tonight.

He doesn't wait for an answer, grabbing two clean wine glasses and using a cork opener to pop the cork off of the bottle of wine. He pours the drink into each of the glasses, filling them practically to the brim before walking back over to the couch. He hands her one of the glasses, taking a long sip out of his own before sitting rather close to her.

"And what about you, dearest Cici? You said that you have your eyes on someone?" He takes another sip of wine, leaning a tad closer. "May I ask who that is, darling? Or are you gonna torture my poor soul and make me guess?"

#Enjoy the show.#selfshippinglover #Ask to tag.#codi don't look

"H-hello Mark," she was surprised to see him answering the door in person. Perhaps Benjamin was out? "I u-uh, " she played with the tip of her left sleeve, unable to meet almond eyes for a short moment.(It was too easy to get entranced) What with her cheeks already flushing pink at his remarks. "I had sent a letter last week or so to Benjamin asking to hangout?" Swallowing, she met his eyes. "Really, I just wanted to check in on him and see you...." she rubbed the back of her neck, chuckling lightly. "We didn't get to talk much the few times I've visited."

As far as she was concerned, a friend of Damian's was already friend of hers....but he didn't need to know that.

"Ben would only okay such a thing with your permission, right?"

"Ah, well-" He let out a quiet chuckle. "Benjamin is actually out at the moment. He's picking some things up for me and likely won't be back for a few hours... Say, why don't you come inside? As adorable as you look with a reddened nose, it's awfully cold outside and I don't want you to get sick." He opens the door a bit wider, an ominous energy coming from the inside of the mansion. "Don't worry, darling, I don't bite..." Mark chuckle lowly, his grin showing off rather sharp canines that had started to develop in his smile over the past few weeks. "Unless you ask nicely, that is."

So she was here to visit Mark, was she? Interesting. He'd always known that she had a crush, of course. It was a little obvious, from the stolen glances and the constant flush on her face every time she was in Mark's presence. Even when Celine was around, it seemed as if Cici was always finding an excuse to stare. Bold of her, but Mark had always had an infatuation with brave women. Maybe she would be more inclined to remain loyal, much unlike the venomous bitch that was his ex-wife.

"I know you wanted to see Benjamin as well, but since he isn't here, I hope to steal all your attention for myself— it's selfish, I understand, but who can really blame me? I never get the chance for alone time with you, not when our beloved Damien is constantly hovering over you... are you in a relationship with him, by any chance? I apologize if that's too personal for you, but he always seems to be by your side, staring at you like you're a goddess." Mark hums, placing his hand on Cici's waist and leading her further into the manor.

The door to the mansion closes behind the two of them with a thunderous click, echoing throughout the otherwise empty building as he leads her to the lavish living room. "I mean, who could really blame him for staring anyway? When there's someone who practically looks like an angel in front of a mere mortal, what human being could bring themselves to look away? If I were in a relationship with someone as pretty as you, I'm sure I would look at them every single moment of the day as well."

#Enjoy the show.#selfshippinglover #codi don't look #Ask to tag.

Cici walked up to the front gates of the imposing mansion with a mix of anxiety and excitement. Once again she had made up some reason or another for being there.(oh just wanted to see Wilford. Checking up on Benjamin, Damian said he was coming over and...) No matter what excuse they gave, anyone could plainly see that she wanted to see him. And sure she had excused it as, "just taking care of my friend, that's all" but the pink in her cheeks and stolen glances told a different story. She was content with any role in all honestly. They just wanted to be a part of his life, even if it was just a smaller one.

As hazel eyes fell onto the front doors of the mansion, Ci steels herself. Today's excuse was simple. Just want to check in, hang out. Maybe finally get to drink some expensive alcohol.

Taking a breathe in and out, she walks up to the front door and pressed the doorbell.

It had been a few months since he'd found out about Celine's... extramarital relationship... with William, a man that Mark had been friends with since the days of university, and he had been trying to cope with the loss of his wife since then. The Colonel, a man who he'd put so much trust into, had so easily betrayed the star of the show and Mark was disgusted.

Somehow, he would make sure that he would pay- Damien and Celine would pay as well, of course, but Mark would think about the specifics of that sweet vengeance later. Maybe a set-up would suffice, a "party" of some sorts... it didn't matter right now. Benjamin had grown tired of Mark's constant drinking and wailing, and was out on an "errand" at the moment. As a knock echoed throughout the manner, answering the door was the last thing that Mark wanted to do. However, because appearances were important to the thespian, Mark begrudgingly wiped the running stage makeup that had been left melted on his face and adjusted his current outfit before walking over to the door to the and opening it with an award-winning smile plastered on his face.

"Oh— well, hello darling," he greeted, looking over the woman in front of him and thinking for a moment. A friend of Damien's, the District Attorney of their humble little town- Mark wasn't necessarily close with her, but he could tell from their minimal interactions that she had a slight crush on him.

Not that Mark blamed her, of course- he was quite the looker, if he did say so himself, and she was... cute, to say the least.

Maybe he could use her to distract himself from his broken heart. If nothing else, it would be an ego boost for himself and would likely piss off the high-strung mayor. That, in and of itself, was more than enough incentive to play along for now. "What brings you to my humble abode Miss Cici? Not that I mind, of course, any chance to see you is a blessing from above."

#Enjoy The Show.#selfshippinglover #codi don't look #Ask to tag.

Do you have any restrictions on whom can rp? Any story preferences?? Also hi I am interested

If you're looking for a romantic, sexual, or otherwise nonplatonic roleplay, I ask that you are eighteen or older. If your age isn't in your bio, I will ask you privately. Other than that, I don't have any restrictions.

Feel free to directly message me so we can plan something out!

#Dressing Room.#selfshippinglover

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