#clovcn

[devilscratch]

Incorrect quotes feat. @clovcn

[magaprima]

@clovcn​

Lilith hadn’t expected Mr Spellman’s sleeping spell to last forever. It had been an of-the-moment casting and Nicholas Scratch did have the literal devil inside him, a power that couldn’t be made to sleep forever. It had, at least, lasted long enough for Lilith to have taken her place on the throne, to have declared her new sovereignty to the Infernal Kings and all the Infernal Court and to have Mr Scratch nicely chained up and suitably subdued, just so the Dark Lord wouldn’t get any ideas when he awoke. 

“Well, good morning,” Lilith purred from her seat on throne, as she saw the familiar look in Nick’s eyes that confirmed it was decidedly not the young warlock currently in the driving seat. “You’ve had quite the restful sleep, I imagine. Your daughter, the one you planned to crown in my place, had a warlock who apparently loved her so dearly as to volunteer to become your flesh acheron. How does it feel? Comfy?”

[lumenari-moved]

nahenama: she could've even been pulled to CAOS world due to Blackwood btw. i mean he is summoning the eldritch terrors LMAO. so like that made the travelling over easier but not *that* easy

clovcn: /omg/. The idea that shes what blackwood summons is so interesting and makes me laugh so hard.

Blackwood; Well if the devil wont back me, screw em ill get a new god

Blackwood; summons another version of his old god

Curb your enthusiasm theme plays

nahenama: HAHDAKJDHASFKJAZSH I DIDNT EVEN CONSIDER THIS I'M DYING

[devilscratch]

" You will always lose her. "

“No.” The word barely escaped Nicholas’ crushed throat. The Dark Lord always had the upper hand, the strong arm around his neck, the eternal claim on his soul. The bars of his spell-bound cage were bending. Copper coated the inside of Nick’s mouth like sweet syrup. "I won’t. I won’t... lose her,” he gasped. Fingernails raked across the Dark Lord’s immortal skin in vain. Everything Nick did was useless. Nicholas Scratch: the flesh Acheron. The sacrifice. The worthless excuse of a warlock. Sabrina had probably forgotten all about him. Darkness blanketed across his eyes. “I... can’t.”

[nickolhsa]

  𝔸𝕊𝕂. :     𝘢𝘳𝘦  𝘺𝘰𝘶  𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥  𝘰𝘧  𝘵𝘩𝘦  𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦?  𝘢𝘳𝘦  𝘺𝘰𝘶  𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥  𝘰𝘧  𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵  𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭  𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥  𝘪𝘯  𝘪𝘵? 〚       PROMPTS.  :       @clovcn​​.   :     𝕃𝕌ℂ𝕀𝔽𝔼ℝ.       〛

𝙨𝙝𝙪𝙩 𝙪𝙥,      you think though you won’t voice it.      you have learned to appreciate your tongue being where it belongs.        ❛              i’m not afraid of much,      certainly not of silence.     ————      ｗｈｙ?      are you?              ❜        it might not be much better,      but it’s what you offer instead,      and it is explicit that defiance is short-sighted.      𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝.        ❛              is that why you love the  ｓｏｕｎｄ  of your own voice so much?              ❜        𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚒 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞?     dies on your throat,      and you remind yourself you are free.      the sun has dimmed but at least you can see it.

[babalyn-a]

  》 @clovcn​    .

          BLOOD  ,  IT  WAS  ALWAYS  BLOOD  WITH   HER  .  DEEP  CRIMSON  LIFE   ,  IT  STAINED  HER  FORM  ,  EVERY  INCH  .  flesh    was    ever    warm     ,     like     the    liquid    life     that     made     up     her      entire     being     (    WITHOUT   HER    ,    WITHOUT    BLOOD    ,     THERE    WOULD    BE    NO    CREATION   .    )      a     pestilence     but     necessity     was     she     ;     goddess     many     were      deemed      so      BOLD     to     ever     call     upon     for     they     risk     their    sanity      .     slender     fingers    were     gentle      in     their     touch     :     lips     DRENCHED     in     iron     scented     red     would     part     ,     liquid     eternally     pouring    from     her     mouth     .     she’d    trace    her     own    figure     ,     RIBBONS     OF    BLOOD     COILING     HER    BARE    FORM     LIKE     A       SERPENT     .     ‘    mmn   . . .    ‘       a     melody     escaping      those     crimson     lips     ,      ‘   --     your     presence     is     arousing   . . .    ‘       

[heldpain]

@clovcn didn’t like for a starter but we plotted so it counts.

HE HAD NOT EXISTED FOR VERY LONG.      and there was confusion in this life.                                            though he knew his purpose.     and he had a hell of a great time doing it.     the embodiment of all sin.      a truly remarkable gift.      ONE TO CORRUPT THEM ALL.      yet,     he was certain he had made a mistake.     something had gone wrong,     he felt nothing but pride in his chest.     if he was not the vessel of them all,    then where did the rest of it go?      ‘      i think i have done something wrong.      ’      a confession,     approaching the fallen angel on his throne.      ‘       you said i encompassed all of the sins within me.     but why do i feel   no wrath?     no desire?     why do i only feel   arrogance?      ’

[draculyr-a]

lyrical starter call x | the figurehead by the cure. @clovcn​​ liked for a long-overdue starter.

shaken from his thoughts, the vampire  caught the edge of the banister and wrung it between his claws.     everything about him was engulfed in a torrent of chaos,   down even to the craggy expression he bore.     fewer living souls were privy to the depth of the count’s suffering to maintain this eternal life.     that he must continue on century by century with nothing to show for it but scars,   secrets and hateful lies             

           “  the same image haunts me...   in sequence,    in despair of time... ”

                 but in the presence of the master.      of the creator of the blood            it was all so powerful.   like a tumultuous gale that overcame him and brought to the surface even the most basic emotions.   painful,   sinful,   and only a catalyst to send him back into the necessity to destroy.     he thrust himself back to fall into the chase instead, one leg propped to lounge.     the cushions were velvet and soft,   but covered with at least half an inch of dust that smelled as much of iron as the count himself did,   as if he couldn’t be bothered to clean for at least half a decade.     “  i will never be clean again. "