#loudhallways

[slowcode]

♬;;;

send ♬ for a 3-5 song playlist for your muse. All I can think about tonight is Al toying with boys. : > 

Charli XCX - Boys 

Caro Emerald - Just One Dance

Eileen Barton - If I Knew You Were Coming I’d’ve Baked a Cake

Eartha Kitt - I Want to be Evil

[threecardtrick]

There’s something to be said for the fact that he’d had a more hellish boss on earth than here, in well, hell. His skills speak for themselves and his resume, namely separating one major country from the Vatican, had put him as a good shoe-in when a... vacancy had arisen. Honestly, this place needed some real management. And he thought it prudent to get to know the demons that were older than him and highly valued, even if they were in other departments. Alastair was one of them. A wave of blood hits his boots as he entered into the demon’s infernal torture demon. His sanctuary of pain. “Are you ever not messy?”

[snaerf]

loudhallways replied to your post “being home alone means i can test my voice and squawk as much as i...”

Literally what I hate most about transitioning is not being able to BELT

omg ive been really wanting to just Sing and see what comes out but im always within earshot of other people and get too shy...........lets form a club for howling

[motorotom]

WILD @loudhallways​ APPEARED!

—  ⌈ ϟ ⌋  mo’s literally flying at this point –– it was almost nighttime, so it wasn’t the best time for this, but he was being chased! it was a much larger mutant, classification wasn’t on his side, so the only thing he could do was run. there was no fighting back. there was no tricking them. there was just the wind on his face and hoping he didn’t attract too much attention. it was okay –– he was taking some alleyways and some side streets.

              rounding a corner into an alley, he starts to lose momentum, and he looks behind him for just a second before turning back to see –– “god d––” he phases through the person he would’ve crashed into, but the distraction is enough to get him back on the ground, crashing and burning onto the concrete. he rolls to a stop, groaning, feeling a few scrapes, some bigger than others, scattered along his knees, elbows, cheeks; it could’ve been anywhere, really. mo hurts all over at this point.

[genbabureki]

loudhallways replied to your post

i can’t escape this on here or twitter it’s killin me just buy it

LMAO maybe i will if someone else hasn’t already

[genbabureki]

loudhallways replied to your post:hey which one of u fkers hasn’t followed me on...

@piverrhoenix hmu!!!

followed! :*

[kxllerblond]

loudhallways

“You’ve got somethin’ on your face.”

There was no real reason to say a n y t h i n g except to quell his own agitations with seeing something where it shouldn’t have been. Granted, it was a subjective matter, where things belonged or did not was a matter of opinion. GRANTED, he was always right and, thus, if he felt something was out of place--he had it in his mind that it clearly was. Because he was never wrong and he was always right. Clearly.

Despite the insistence that the matter be corrected, he didn’t even bother to be so helpful as to indicate just where on the face the blemish might have been. He just expected it to be found and corrected by the stranger himself.