#dolceclavier

[woednesdayaddams]

♱ starter for @dolceclavier (edward)

torn between two worlds – an outcast, solely a freak, at least according to the normies. not that the outcasts themselves held different opinions. wednesday doesn’t mind the label, conforming wasn’t her strong suit, thus she welcomes the idea of being different. at the rave’n she had embraced her ideals, allowing herself to have fun. she danced with tyler, albeit the association is a bit of a stretch. she was dancing and she did try to include him in her little choreography. the most she could be comfortable with. there was no unexpected scenario that unfolded that night, at least during the party itself. raining blood was, after all, on her bucket list. she has always admired stephen king’s carrie, though there was disappointment as she figured out the pinnacle of rave’n was nothing but a ruse. it wasn’t even pig blood, how disappointing. in the midst of chaos ensued, two unpredictable variables took place – eugene was in danger and a normie asked for a favor.

wednesday cannot decline the opportunity to leave the premises of nevermore, even if it means socializing with a normie. thankfully, the individual wasn’t exactly a stranger. despite not considering alex a person close to her black heart, she deems him as a valuable individual amongst the many students attending nevermore academy. thus, she took into consideration edward’s proposal, to meet outside nevermore. in fact, she accepted it. “remind me why exactly did you ask for my help?” she questions everyone that crosses her path, the normie not excluded to the majority. albeit interest had been sparked within the addams progeny, it wasn’t everyday that people took interest in her and the choices she makes.

[prtcts]

@dolceclavier liked

she can taste the metallic tang of blood on her tongue more than she can feel the sting of the blow to her cheek, and there’s a slash on her arm that’s going to become a problem very quickly. he hasn’t used his gun yet, and that’s the only reason she knows she can win. a side effect of her job is that sometimes people took her abilities personally, as if she cared that much about her opponents after her contract is up. for her it’s business. for them it’s more than that - and this particular goon seems to have had a problem with her beating him almost a month ago. the fight is brutal, and she knows it’s life or death for her, which is why she spins, mounts him from behind, and snaps his neck. he crumples, and she staggers aside, hands on her knees to catch her breath.

and when she lifts her head, philip is there. at some point, he had stopped being a stranger; somewhere between the flashes of violence that seemed to follow her and the curt conversations they’d held. his presence is something unfamiliar to her - a comfort. because when he’s there she knows he understands, when he’s there she can feel his experience; even if he doesn’t talk about them with her. that’s fine. she doesn’t talk much about hers either. she does see the “ don’t look at me like that. ” hanako says, sullenly. “ i already know. ” an ambush she should have seen coming, she’s already beating herself up for it. a public brawl she should have been better at hiding. but focus returns to the dead weight of the body she’s shifting out of view of the street. “ help me or get out of my way. ”

[kit-just-kit]

(closed starter for @dolceclavier)

When the invite had come through, Kit had been immediately excited. It wasn’t the usual type of charity even she went to (thank goodness!). But still a great cause and something she truly believed in. Still, that didn’t fully prepare her for what she found when entering the trendy ‘warehouse’ location, that now looked anything but an actual warehouse.

There were so many colours, hundreds of lights - both ‘fairy’ and strobe, throbbing, basefull music that she, in her relatively old age compared to the other party-goers, did not have a chance of either recognising or understanding. And bloody hell was she under-dressed, considering. And there she was thinking she’d be all out-there and ironically not ‘on trend’ in the vintage Westwood dress!

But, as one would expect in a place where all things different were good, nobody battered an false-lashed eyelid at her rather dull appearance and instead, made her so welcome, she was soon having one of the best nights of her life. There was drinking, dancing, laughter - all the things one needed to distract from the usual (i.e. boring) routine.

As she stood waiting at the bar for yet another Cosmopolitan, there was a rustle of fabric and her field of vision was flooded with sugar-pink and sparkle. She simply had to comment “Ten years ago, I would have had to take you home just so my daughter could see what a real-life china doll was. You look so great!”.

[nctaboutyou]

Admiration

@dolceclavier asked:  “i don’t hate you.  i admire you.  i always have.” (Theo insisted I send this for him)

Sylvie blinked a few times at his words, lifting a brow as she watched him. “And why are you telling me this now?” she questioned, her voice low. “We aren’t in exactly the best scenario for that.”

There were hunters and minutemen, right around the corner, from the TVA, and she found her back pressed against the wall, her arm pressed against his. Well, she figured maybe it was a last ditch thing, in case they were caught and separated, but if he thought she was going down so easily... she wasn’t sure if he knew her well enough.

[rulesxunbroken]

@dolceclavier (closed starter)

Normally the old witch wouldn’t get involved. Everything happened for a reason, she believed this much to be true-- but, perhaps she was meant to stroll through the thick of the woods at this exact moment. It was possible that it would be her job to interfere.  She stood rooted to her spot, heels of her boots sinking into to the dirt. Agatha curled her fingers into her palm, eyes glazing over with a purple haze.  The witch stepped further into the thickness of the trees, fingers tingling with energy. “Why don’t you pick on someone who can fight back?” Her voice cut through. She widened her stance, violet curls emitting from her palms.  Her feet peeled away from the forest floor as she ascended toward this shadowy demon. “Get behind me.” She said to the stranger, as her magic pulsed and encapsulated the beast. “And where did you come from, hm?” She said to the attacker. The ground split open as Agatha flicked her wrists, fingers methodically flexing until the beast was gone.” She descended back to the ground and tucked her hands away in her sleeves, hiding the singes. Black magic was the only way to accomplish this task.  “I wouldn’t linger, dear, that wasn’t a permanent banishment.” She cocked her head. “We need to get you around some sage.”

[justacomedy-archived]

“I was beginning to think I had a shadow with how closely you were following me.” Joker pointed out, deep emerald eyes staring at the stranger in question. "Hasn’t anyone told you that it’s not safe to stand too close to strangers?” He asked, coming to a stop. “They might just turn around and-” he paused for dramatic affect, lifting his hands and holding them open in front of his face with a crooked grin. “Get ya.” @dolceclavier​

[tieflingsweetheart]

@dolceclavier

“Shit... shit!” Christian gasped, clasping a hand over his mouth as he took a step back from Dolce. He hadn’t snapped out of another personality this fast in a long time, but the sound of her back hitting the wall sent him flying out. She didn’t look to hurt, he couldn’t have pushed her that hard... could he? His hands dropped down to his sides, wide green eyes staring at the girl from where he’d stumbled too across the room. “I... I am so sorry.” It was hardly above a whisper. “I promise I’ll never hurt you again, I swear it.”

[topsyturvypuppeteer]

@dolceclavier interacted for a seasonal starter in the HM verse!

“I already know there’s no point in even bothering to try and frighten you. After all, I am not the first ghost you’ve seen before, non?” The ghostly puppeteer offered a devious yet knowing grin after materializing and showing himself to the woman without a second thought or question. How interesting it was to converse with her on the other side. Death was indiscriminate, and at times, dramatically ironic. Leaning against the nearest wall, Clopin folded his arms across his chest with a small frown. “Now, here is a riddle for you to solve, if you can. Why am I here?” He asked with a faint strain of impatience while idly observing his own gloved semi-transparent hand with an air of boredom.