#p0pestar

[tooxldtorememxer]

@p0pestar wrote: meet me at our spot tonight . / for omega

"Meet me at our spot tonight." The words had been spoken so silently and so fast in passing that he wasn't sure he'd heard it right, but the request was so loud it echoed in his ears and mind all day, distracting him in his duties. He did his best not to seem too distracted, but by the way Alpha huffed and puffed and glared at him, he figured he wasn't doing a very good job of hiding it.

Even through dinner, he did his best not to glance at him too much or at all and instead tried to concentrate on what the others had to say. It was torture, and he was sure Terzo knew what he was doing to him.

When it was finally time, he was quick to excuse himself from the den and the others and walked as calmly as possible towards his goal, but the closer he got, the more jittery he felt, and his feet moved faster over the marble floors with every step. Always one to never be late, he thought he might be a bit early, but as it turned out, he wouldn't be the first to arrive. His fast footsteps quickly came to a halt, and the air in his lungs felt pleasant and fresh, along with his personal scent that reached his nose.

"Hello, Amore," he smiled gently as he moved closer. "Sorry I made you wait," His large hand quickly found his cheek, cupping it ever so gently. How had he ever been able to or wanted to resist him?

[muutosarch]

❛ i wish i could stay, my love. ❜ / cirice :giggle:

"and why can't you, meu querido papa?" there's a mysterious light that flickers within her eye, and in the effervescence of her smile. standing some feet away, with tendrils from burning cigarette pirouetting in an unseen dance with the italian air. such ushered in from balcony door she's left ajar.

perhaps it is a flex of such influence which eludes him, though realistically she would not have him any other way.. for the ebb and flow of control is exciting, for a time - fleetingly so... as the true passion behind such garnering of affection is as if a candle wick, struggling in vain to remain ablaze.. inevitable to be extinguished.

yet, her love for him is a boundless forest fire. spilling across boarders of which they break together. feeling at times as if there is nothing they cannot do in the marrying of shared prowess and potential of their empire, which they stand above as if monarchs addressing beloved subjects. painted idols false as those they diminish, yet within she knows that he is more. even if at times, she forces his hand to earn such beauty of praise. despite the way in which she carried it with her always, in constantly grounding hands. the way in which she cradles his face, and whispers foreign affirmations against painted flesh.

they are currently on tour, and despite it having been a night without the burden of a show.. there always seems to be business demanding to divert her papa's precious attention. undoubtedly lost without his presence, a damsel strewn over sofa surrounded by luxuries which pale in the shade of his absence. like a sun eclipsed, and darkening the day. codependent. inherent selfishness bidding him stay, with a breath beneath the flame to fan his ego. "you can do whatever you like, no?" she turns in slow cross of the space between them. wishing to create somewhat of an anticipation of her reaching him. "- we are in your home country, on your only night off in weeks.. tesoro.. you would spend such days with press, instead of enjoying yourself?" she daintily presses fingers to his made-up countenance, and tilts her head in the deepening emotion within her eyes. "stay with me, please. i beg of you, amante."

@p0pestar.

[gutterbrat]

       "Holy shit."       Murmur gone coarse from the quick-dwindling Parliaments she was currently chain-smoking,  furious lights passing over her pale gaze as she studies the other with a look torn between apprehension and awe.  Shrooming out at Bixby Park with nothing more than her skateboard,  cigarettes and a half-eaten bag of crisps tucked in her jeans.  Her skateboard has since been abandoned,  volatile attempts at kick-flips swapped out for the recline of a grassy lawn.  It wasn't wholly out-of-pocket to come across something  ( or someone )  worth sparing a second glance.  There's a beat of silence  —rude,  likely,  but try telling her that when she's floating easy on another planet.  After a few awkward seconds of silence,  she recollects herself  —pale blue eyes blink hard,  hand raising to reflexively dig her heel into her left eye socket.       "What was that?  Sorry.  M'a bit distracted." 

@p0pestar liked for a starter.

[putrefacerem]

in  clawed  ,  mismatched  hands  is  cradled  a  bowl  of  basalt  &&  though  that  rock  is  made  to  endure  ,  it  looks  so  ancient  that  it  might  as  well  evaporate  to  dust  'pon  the  slightest  agitation.  the  ghoul  seems  entirely  focused  on  the  strange  object  ,  massive  frame  free  of  glamours  within  the  sanctuary  of  the  ministry.  thick  claws  scratch  delicately  at  faded  etchings  and  flaking  paint  ,  nigh  impossible  to  make  out  unless  one  is  to  linger  close.

heavy  tail  lax  in  a  transfixed  sort  of  concentration  ,  mordú  is  most  certainly  muttering  'neath  his  breath—  the  lyrical  velvet  of  his  voice  repeating  a  phrase  over  and  over.  tis  seldom  to  find  the  ghoul  so  careless  in  his  attention  ,  so  focused  upon  one  thing  only.  mordú  always  seems  painfully  aware  of  his  surroundings  ,  with  nothing  ever  escaping  his  notice.  how  ironic  then  ,  that  of  all  people  ,  terzo  is  the  one  to  sneak  up  to  him.

❛  you  bring  trouble  with  you.  ❜

fingers  twitch  ,  his  tail  perking  up  and  posture  straightening  immediately.  the  closest  thing  mordú  may  come  to  being  startled  ,  if  at  all.  ❛  papa.  ❜  comes  his  acknowledgement  ,  flat  blues  peering  between  strands  of  salt  streaked  tresses  as  he  directs  his  gaze  over  his  shoulder.  mild  irritation  twinges  ,  somewhere  deep  within  ,  at  being  interrupted.  but  he  would  never  forget  decorum  and  turns  at  last  to  address  the  pontiff  properly.  his  nose  creases  at  the  sentence  ,  a  sneer.  ❛  trouble?  how?  my  diligence  knows  no  bounds.  ❜  the  usually  flat  tone  of  his  voice  gains  inflection  ,  colored  by  the  rumbling  of  affront.  measured  steps  bring  him  within  @p0pestar  's  orbit  ,  feeling  the  thrum  of  his  presence  clearly  now.  looking  down  his  nose  at  the  other  ,  the  ghoul  heaves  a  sigh.  ❛  if  anything  ,  it  is  you  who  brings  trouble.  with  ...  all  due  respect  ,  of  course.  ❜  tagged  on  ,  unserious  ,  a  grin  of  all  things  revealing  crooked  teeth  and  sharp  fangs.  his  eyes  however  remain  piercing.  ❛  i  am  praying  for  your  success  but  perhaps  that  is  not  enough.  need  i  remind  you  of  the  course?  ❜

[0fbabylon-a]

@p0pestar asked, ‘ is something wrong? ’

       ‘   No —   ’        There’s a sharp,    defensive edge to her feminine voice.   No is as reflexive a response as any in response to a question like that.   Normal for most, but invasive for her.   In the same vein as are you okay?   Well,   doctor     —would you care,    would you really give a shit if I wasn’t?

Madonna takes a hard drag from the end of her cigarette.   In truth,    she was fried.   That half-tab of acid she’d taken just after midnight hit her more like a full dose,   and she was still shaky on her legs    — wandering gray streets with sable and cigarettes,   aching feet.   That’s why she’s sitting on a park bench at dawn with her Manolo Blahniks at her side,    leg crossed,   stocking-clad foot bare in her lap.   The night is faded upon her face,    but the world was still just a little ridiculous on its fringes,    thanks to the acid that stuck around in her system.   She’s rubbing her bare feet on a park bench in Los Angeles.   The strangest man is speaking to her,   asking if something is wrong.

Madonna studies the other’s face, black gaze shadowed with lingering sleep deprivation —recreational drug use,  perhaps some tears shed over the course of the night,   surely.

       ‘    My feet hurt.   ’        She complains,   voice weary and kittenish.   Her full mouth draws into an unhappy pout as she squeezes the narrow foot in her lap with one hand, sipping her cigarette by the other.

[legacysouls]

@p0pestar asked: Alpha calm down , the entire room smells like fire again .

A low HISS comes from behind the fire ghoul's mouthless mask, only allowing for more black smoke to pour from the nostrils and eye holes. Alpha's lucky that it hasn't started to melt off his face yet with the rise of his body temperature that his anger had him at. " Don't tell me to calm down, that doesn't work! " Alpha growls at the other, tail LASHING back and forth behind him, scaled and pointed like a reptile's. It wasn't appropriate how he was acting presently towards the antipope, he knows that. And had Terzo been either one of his older brothers Alpha wouldn't dare to even think of talking back to him in such a harsh manner. Why did he have to be so irritatingly different from them?

Regardless, the ghoul crosses bulky arms over his chest, taking a deep inhale of smoky air back into his BURNING lungs before it's slowly pushed back out and repeated until the ghoul can find his voice again. " I'm. Sorry. " Alpha finally grumbles through audibly gritted teeth. It's not Terzo's fault that he didn't want the papacy ( and it showed. ) Alpha needs to keep reminding himself of that, Omega certainly did enough of it whenever he saw him make certain faces or mumble UNFILTERED comments under his breath.

With all things considered, he treated the ghouls fairly well. Terzo went so far as to direct the attention from himself to them on stage for the audience to watch and take in their talents. Not that Alpha particularly cared what humans thought about him. " Give him time and some patience. You might grow to like him too. " Omega had said. As if anyone could like that man any more than the rhythm guitarist did.

[muutosarchive]

All you have to do is beg, and I will give you what you want. / omega hehehe

his tail flickers. a rumble produced deep within inhuman chest. raised from it's space on the floor, as cool eyes of liquid nitrogen burn through the mask. less emotion resides in the glow of stars signaling his perfect design. of course less than glamor blues. ice cold, but still with the capacity for vulnerability. built by the very hands of lucifer, omega is convinced, to serve this great purpose of belonging. of giving away every part of himself. not demeaning to place himself below the man . . . it is simply natural, despite nature's lack of facilitation. long, onyx claws rounding waist to find hand-holds as spats curl on the ground. uniform tugging seams of suddenly too-small cassock as he grows from his stealth height to that of his true form. grandiose. big teeth, gnarled horns &. scarred, black muscles as far as the eye could see. those glaring orbs akin to the night sky, even as he angrily tears off the chrome plate from over his face. ears sprung back against his skull, pointed &. with some subtle missing chunks from his many fights in the underworld.

his spaded tail comes around the short legs standing before him, while wrapping more tightly to opposite thigh. all occurring in such typical regal form reduced to tight, heightened shoulders. but not from the contemplation of begging. no . . . has far in a way torn himself apart before the man's mismatched eyes. does not fear embarrassment. a horse's snort releasing from the great beast that fans across the exposed line of the abdomen beneath his nose. hands &. knees the position to fully make-up the size between the ghoulish figure &. his handler. the pretty, poised &. chosen one. ruler of the leviathan throne. oh, but he'd loved him before that, too. when he belonged to someone else, in a sense. but he'd always found his way home.

"please, sir --" he cringes. such a human tone sounds oddly shaken, even as thighs lower &. he begins nosing around the man's stomach like he were a dejected dog. "you already know i'd do anything for you. why torture me like this?" tortured by this innate desire already, curious eyes snap with the slow draw-back of snout. "please let me serve &. be of service." he bows his head. eyes snuffed to the back of his lids. pride pouring out of his chest &. splattering on shoes. though, omega was a proud ghoul. something elegant woven into sacrifice, even when displayed so primal &. needing.

🍒 @p0pestar 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐃 ↪ 𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂, 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋, 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

[iomadachd]

@p0pestar asked: hold my drink. / for dew...

PROMPTS FOR COMMANDS AND DEMANDS (accepting)

The water ghoul takes the drink without a fuss more out of surprise that the Third had just ordered him to do something. He's used to Papa relying on Omega or Alpha.

He leans forward and lifts his mask once Papa has stepped away, sniffing at the contents and stealing a curious sip. Papa said hold it, and never said anything about not drinking it.

Immediately, he spits it out on the ground, glamour flickering as he frantically tries to wipe his tongue.

"Spicy!" he yelps, holding the drink at arm's length and trying to figure out why his Papa is drinking poison.