#starr1ngrole

[chivalrites]

carmen

send me your character and I’ll tell you if I think they know how to season/care for cast iron cookware.

Perhaps I’m mistaken but yes. Yes, she can. She has and she could. BUT I feel like, and I could be totally wrong about this, she is currently in a period in her life where she doesn’t use cast iron a lot. Like, you know, she has other things going on. She’ll get back into the cast iron later maybe.

[muutosarchive]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐫𝟏𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝: " 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞. "  𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝.

he physically recoils. hand pulling back, as if he’s touched something hot - more-so, than having just been reprimanded. head rearing, with a questioning tilt . don’t touch me?  DID THIS - GODDAMN WASTE OF A WOMAN, JUST TELL ME WHAT TO DO? his body fills with the kind of rage one might find in a toddler, who’s not yet been able to grasp the lack of control it truly has. reddening his ears, & bouncing his upper lip. twisted, in an unsightly scowl. yet, such descriptors are truly an understatement for it’s ugliness.  for good measure, his hand comes back to grasp at her throat. clutching it, as her soft back knocks into the wall, not far behind. enough pressure applied, to frighten her. to keep her subdued. looking up & down her, with less of a lustful gaze as usual. no.. this is contempt. UNSIGHTLY & EVIL. “first of all - i’ll touch whatever i want...” he tells her. part of that is meant, yet some of it is not.  “second.. who are you, to tell me what to do?” he asks. his voice, a scary sort of calm - head turning, in a short & serpentine sway. threatening -- intimidating. “do you think that, just because i entertain you - you have any kind of control over me?” he wonders, aloud. “because if that’s the case ---” he purrs. a not so pleasurable sound, in pure anger. “-- you are going to be in for a rude awakening..”

@starr1ngrole​    /  /    emotional prompts. 

[muutosarchive]

[ 𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 ] 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.  𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 (𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨).

“mi amor -” he stands from the bathtub - rushed, even if it’s creaky & slow. hand curved protectively around his cane, whilst he wets his lips. air seemingly hard to grasp, but his lips part all the same. tiers drying, as quick as they were attended to. a flicker of shock -- a deer in headlights quality - flashes, in his otherwise unreadable yet somber eyes. portrayed by the soft scrunch of his brow. he hadn’t expected her to enter - not so soon. he had thought he had more time. the water still on, he’s almost positive it’s too hot. he’s used to worse. had run the tap - satisfied at least, in knowing it was too cool for him. he tries to burn the shit off his skin - it never works. now, it’s comforting. he walks, two, three slow steps. aid moving seamlessly before he stops. it smells like orchids, in here - at least, he hopes that’s what the floral smell was mimicking. that’s what he paid for.... “i wanted to... surprise you.”

@starr1ngrole​    /  /    ACTS OF SERVICE