nothing good comes after midnight.

cause nothing good comes after midnight, ain't no goodness come from pain, nothing good comes after midnight, when you play the devils game

[noordinaryturtless-deactivated2]

    I’ll protect them. 

                   Even if it means to lay my life down for them. 

[j-gif]

[justsidestuff-blog]

‘I love you’ meme

[stephmumu]

justsidestuff:

Send ‘◎’ and I’ll generate a number from 1-10 for a situation where my muse blurts out ‘I love you’ to your muse. (Mixture of fluffy, nsfw and angsty)

In an argument

While kissing

Last words

While half asleep

During foreplay/sex

As a goodbye

While dreaming

While drunk

When reunited with your muse

While scared

[memeroundups]

Send ‘rough touch’

[stephmumu]

memeroundups:

and the generated outcome will be used for a small drabble scenario or starter { tw violence, possible noncon/dubcon implications, nsfw }

Your muse throws a punch at mine.

My muse throws a punch at yours.

Your muse suddenly grips my muse’s hair.

My muse suddenly grips your muse’s hair.

Your muse roughly grabs my muse’s arm.

My muse roughly grabs your muse’s arm.

Your muse grips my muse’s hips.

My muse grips your muse’s hips.

Your muse wraps their hands tightly around my muse’s neck.

My muse wraps their hands tightly around your muse’s neck.

Your muse slams mine against a wall hard.

My muse slams yours against a wall hard.

Your muse pushes my muse to their knees.

My muses pushes your to their knees.

Your muse bites mine.

My muse bites yours.

Your muse clutches their hand tightly around my muse’s mouth to silence them.

My muse clutches their hand tightly around your muse’s mouth to silence them.

Your muse grabs my muse’s wrists.

My muse grabs their muse’s wrists.

Your muse attempts to shove away mine.

My muse attempts to push off yours.

Your muse roughly kisses mine.

My muse roughly kisses yours.

Your muse pins mine onto the ground.

My muse pins yours to the ground.

Your muse delivers beatings to mine.

My muse delivers beatings to yours.

Your muse breaks my muse’s arm.

My muse breaks your muse’s arm.

Mun chooses.

[paulwelsey]

[stephmumu]

unto the dusk.

It wasn't often one of The Kingdoms reached out to the others. There were alliances but most were as fragile as spun glass. And as sharp as when the knife sunk into the proverbial back. It was an intriguing notion, and curious enough to catch the eyes of Zarrinth. And of Mother which meant it was important enough to attend. The Kingdom of Feleris had sent out a call to each kingdom requesting aid. They had also sent out a general call and request for Mercenaries just in case the Kingdoms ignored the call.

Vallonde had sent one of their brutes - a Knight decked in armour she could see her face in. Ridiculous. It hadn’t saved him from her blade. He’d been pretty too - all blue eyed and chiselled jaw. There had been no stories on his hands, no scar marking his battle history. Not her type in the end. She had liked people with stories, with history etched across their features and ingrained into them. The Knight had been so new he had almost bled green.

The meeting itself had primarily been quite boring. Talk on about the darkness which was creeping in. Whole fields of livestock had been found dead, crops failing, villages falling ill or slaughtered. And on it seemd to go. How they had allowed it to go on so long Zarrinth didn’t know, it was foolish to allow such a thing to fester. As the meeting went on Zarrinth found herself watching those around her, as always. There was something incredibly fascinating to Zarrinth about people, all there little foibles and intricaces. From the warrior whose foot didn’t stop tap, tap, tapping against the dark wood table leg. An archer whose hands  constantly danced over her bow. Some seemed as bored as Zarrinth while others hung on every word.

No matter how much the scholar prattled on they were getting no where. Feleris were known for its Scholars, for the age old Libraries that housed information Zarrinth itched to read. Maybe one day. If Mother stopped sending her across the Kingdoms. There would be no finding out what it was until they were out there, Zarrinth dying simply to move. She disliked being in the open so much despite her chosen seat against a wall. Here there was no where to hide and no need to but such a thing made her antsy, her fingers itching to check every dagger hidden in the thick black cloak which covered her.

Finally they were released, the Scholar pointing them toward an Inn where they could rest and plan. Some easily moved into groups, a natural seperation as Zarrinth rose and followed. It would be best to work with others at least first. Where she wished to go was dangerous - she needed cannon fodder. As the others moved she carefully watched as most of them left, her eyes drawn to two who lingered almost close together. There was a certain tension which burned between them, a mismatched-ness which seemed to work. While Zarrinthe required cannon fodder she wanted cannon fodder which could fight and they both looked capable. She hoped. The male towered above her, a wall of brute strength which easily appealed to her. Zarrinth’s eye lingered on the female for a time - she was beautiful and most likely far deadlier than she appeared.

“Well, the amount of sexual tension between us is a good start,” Zarrinth purred as she stepped between them. Hoping that a little joke may ease the tension which seemed so tightly wound around them. “But perhaps first we should go somewhere more private?” 

[sammrps]

[stephmumu]

sammrps:

You don’t have to choose between fire and ice

[waxxie]

[shouldnt]

Do not fuck with me

[akmumu]

She checked her phone one last time, then shoved it in her tiny, nearly useless bad. She had done her research as best she knew how, trying to find mutants, or enhanceds, or whatever they wanted to be called today. Some of them were easy to find, of course, the exhibitionists who flew around the city, or grew spikes and horns to get their coffee faster, or any other number of things mentioned with distaste on the nightly news. But those were not the types for Marianne, mutant or not.

She had found this place finally: a club frequented by less showy parties. It was deemed something of a safe haven. It had taken her two weeks to get a night off, though, but here she was, glad there appeared to be no line or strict filter. She was not sure what she was doing, but she was there, bass pounding in her ears and lights flashing out into the alley as she approached the club.

[stephmumu]

Since Arden had joined the ranks of mutant she had attempted to keep a low profile. Something which was thankfully helped by the fact that she looked perfectly normal. There were no horns, no wings, no blue skin or red eyes. Every time she looked in the mirror she was just her. Just the old Arden. On the outside at least.

Inside she heard the whispering emotions of those around her. At first it had been too much - a sudden break in the silence and she had been floored with every emotion, every scrap of thought. Too much to process, too much to try to. She had almost died that night, her mind stretched to its limit. The following weeks, months, were ones of headaches. Constant pain in the back of her skull, a throbbing agony she couldn’t hide from for so, so long until she found others like her. Found the club which acted like a safe haven towards those like her. 

Now she acted something like a guard, quickly scanning those who entered ensuring that at the very least surface emotions were not violent. The young girl who entered plucked her interest, Arden watching as she entered. There was nothing violent about her but something cautious, unsure. 

“Can I help you?” 

[geekorunique]

claire holt photographed by gemma pranita

[sophie-adler]

Adrian walked out of the police station, sighing while walking down the stairs. He needed a few days off, his brain couldn’t function properly anymore with all the cases he had to solve. Adrian liked his job, arresting killers and criminals was great and all but seeing death on a daily basis was disturbing, even after all the years he was working as a homicide detective. That and the fact he had the craziest family ever, which included a sister who was a stripper and a twin brother who was involved in some illegal stuff. 

Adrian shook those thoughts off and turned to walk into the nearest coffee shop but as he was opening the door, he bumped into someone, the person’s belogings fell on the floor. “I’m so sorry.”, he apologized and bent down immediately to collect the person’s things.

[stephmumu]

It wasn't unusual for Aaron to get out of the station on some hopped up charges which never seemed to stick only to head straight for the coffee shop. They girl even new his order now and usually threw one of the little lemon cakes in which Aaron pocketed for his son.

As he exited someone attempted to enter, smacking right into him. The coffee in his left hand was the first victim, a shower of scalding hot while the little lemon cake was the second, squishing between his fingers. "Shit, fucking dammit," Aaron swore hotly, coffee burning between his fingers. It didn't burn quite as much as the realisation of who had walked into him. "You've gotta be fucking joking me. Don't have anything better to fucking do?"

[breathtakingqueens]

[rinamumu-blog]

She looked up to see the lady cop headed towards her, she didn’t know much about Paige since Beth had only recently been transferred back to the department. She was simply glad not to be the only woman in the station, it was a male world even in the twenty first century. “Another one? That’s the third one this week,” she sighed, standing up,”where did they find it?”

[stephmumu]

“Over on Bletchely. Looks like a drug deal gone wrong,” Paige advised, swinging her coat on. “I’m on my way there if you want a ride.” Paige had been a detective for long enough to know that no matter what it was always best for women to stick together - there were a few good men but for the most part they were sexist pigs. “Looks like Ward territory. Or what was Ward territory.” The families were starting to war over what seemed to be everything.

[rinamumu-blog]

“During a fight bigger isn’t always better, you don’t ever want your enemies to know exactly what you are capable of,” Jace spoke, picking up an apple and taking a bit. “You can’t put all your cards on the table, it’s just bad strategy which is why Olivia what you to learn this shit. I got years on you, I own an occult shop. I hardly get scared because a witch lights something on fire otherwise I wouldn’t be the warlock to go to around here.”

[stephmumu]

Eyebrow quirked as Jace continued on. It was almost cute. She’d been learning her trade since she could walk, since her tongue could hold latin and her fingers trace runes. That was what part of being an Abernathy was about. To her father she hadn’t been a daughter but the next hunter, the next Witcher. She had gone through training which Olivia had oft deemed torture. And somehow survived. Finesse was just never her strong suit - if you wanted something blowing up in a big way, Ky was your girl. She smiled, head cocked to one side as she watched him. “And how many things have you actually killed, Jace?” She asked, “This is my life. I don’t need to light candles or set little fires. I’ve been doing this since I was three years old. My first kill was at 9. Olivia hasn’t been out there for a very long time.”

[amber-mumu]

“Asshole that you called to clean up your mess,” he smirked. Roman did not know whether he should be proud or terrified at the idea of Shiloh covered in blood, but regardless it certainly excited him.  “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”  As she led him towards the apartment building, Roman kept an eye out for anything out of the ordinary and witnesses he might have to take care of later.  “Now tell me dear, are you going to give me the details of what happened.”

[stephmumu]

A hint of a smile twitched across her lips, Shiloh quirking her head in his direction. The apartment block was run down, as run down as the slums around it but Shiloh didn't care. Not when the majority of her time spent in any place like this was drunk or high. Chasing the darkness from her mind. It had caught up with her anyway. Seeping in until there was blood on her hands. It wasn't the first body she'd seen but it was the first she'd caused. The elevator was noisy as it took them up, banging and rattling dangerously. The building itself was mostly quiet - abandoned beyond homeless and those like her. "He didn't understand no. He does now," Shiloh advised quietly, eyes steely for a brief moment, darkening into the almost pure black of demon. In taking a life she had awoken the curse in her blood - a curse or a gift. Her brethren were never sure. Shiloh had feared the moment, unsure on how it would change her. It seemed inevitable - the Wests were doomed to kill, to embrace that darkness an old ancestor had haggled for.

The scent of blood faintly thickens in the hall, growing harsher as they enter the apartment. The body is obvious from the get go - sort of. Bloodied pieces, hunks of human scattered. "I think Shiloh Smash is an adequate description of what happened... I didn't expect... No one's ever said what it's like."

[blairwaldorves-blog]

[stephmumu]