As we all know, I’m kind of a blog-making addict who says “this is the last one” every single time. (It’s never the last one. Ever.) And as we all know, it’s hard to keep up with somebody who makes and uses about a trillion blogs, so I thought it’s about time to update the list again for anyone who might care.
Before I list them, though, a note: most of my blogs contain subject matter that can get NSFW or triggering. The story lines I like to explore are more often than not a little heavy, and sometimes can even get a little dark. Keep that in mind before following any of these.
- orpheusturners — this one is my personal blog, so it’s a bit beside the point, but 9/10 times I’m there if I’m not on one of my writing blogs.
- ohfiendangelical — you are here. I also refer to it as “home base” since I’ve had Zero the longest and make most core ooc posts here if they aren’t character-related or blog-specific.
- neonisms — a hunter named Aiden who also runs a modern artistry shop / tattoo parlor. He’s very friendly and open.
- holyvalley — a multichara (so far, and will probably stay, at 2 core characters, Prometheus and Judas) that explores a religious cult that lives up in the mountains. The friendliness of the characters usually depends, and one of them is borderline psychopathic.
- godfruit— Cato is a mystic prophet that lives in a world-between-worlds that you come across by getting lost in the woods. He loves everyone and everything no matter what.
- tetraphobics — an heir to a hunter and music empire named Christian. He’s high anxiety and not cut out for the future planned for him. Considering he probably wants your approval, he’s amiable nearly all the time.
- jeweledhands — Esther. Rich bitch. Loveless marriage. “Money doesn’t buy happiness” theme. Kind of a ditz. May be a little stuck up, but generally sort of kind of nice.
- xrating — Neely Bardot, a young pornographic film star. Her friendliness usually depends, but she isn’t ice cold.
- humanitarianisms — Izaya Orihara from the anime Durarara. He’s an anime villain, so not always the nicest person around.
- notasickness — Andrew Basque, a psychologist with a mildly morbid secret. He’s friendly and amiable most of the time.
- afflictedauthor — Lemony Snicket. Not always pleasant, because the world is a cruel and terrible place, but he means no harm.
i’ve made two blogs in the last three days…
It’s so strange, she thinks—the flickers of the past that begin to ebb and consume her as she feels Zero’s fingers tangle in her own hair. She isn’t afraid—not by a long shot. How can she be afraid now? He was so tender with her, so careful with touch and kissing. Abra can’t help but feel almost reborn in his arms, drawing in a quivering breath as he kisses at her throat, looks at her with those dark eyes.
She’s never known someone like Zero—she nearly falters, whimpering faintly and giving her head a tiny nod. Of course he can, of course he can do whatever he would like to her—because Abra trusts him. She trusts him with everything she has, she would love for Zero to consume her completely and fully. She loves him, she loves him.
She gasps sharply as she feels those familiar palms molding into her chest—she doesn’t recall anyone she used to love before him. There were people she knew—a blindfolded boy with a James Dean cool. A man who always looked tired and sad, mostly when he looked at her. All men, all those who drew her to paw at her heart and think of better things—like star formations of her Beau. Abra feels her body arch beneath his tender touch, a strange sort of dampness between her legs causing her to whimper and mewl out softly. Bright eyes flicker, glossy with aching as she draws back from the kiss, feels his jaw and those pretty thick curls.
She feels his manhood against her—shifts against it a fraction, nuzzling at his jaw and pressing into him with a faint coo.
Zero’s hands tangle into her hair and he draws her closer, not particularly caring how they got from Point A to Point B so quickly, so strangely. He remembers that this is the way it used to be, moments changing from one thing to another, the way they’d slip into the intimacy seamlessly.
She loves him and wants him. That was the feeling he was worried about losing, the memory he thought might fade out—but here it is. She loves him and wants him, and he loves her and wants her. There’s nothing more than that. Hell is gone, long gone, and now it’s just the two of them, alive, in love, wanting—like anyone else.
“Can I try something?” he murmurs into her throat, raising dark eyes as he presses another kiss to the skin.
…the most unsuitable pets.
( independent multicharacter roleplaying blog )
! extremely nsfw themes
! typist has had 8+ years of roleplaying experience
! icons preferred, but who gives a fuck
! para style, script style, etc
! typist will be your best friend to make up for the fact that her muses are pieces of Trash
! semi-selective (but not really)
! tags all her triggers
! typist will love you till the end of time
…been long enough so, let’s —
( make a mess, lioness )
Rough hands that ghost over her covered breasts, causing rosy peaks to harden and tense beneath the touch. She can’t help but be reactive—she doesn’t remember it being this way with Julian. She remembers the viciousness of the act—she remembers cold teeth tearing her and talons that burned white hot. The insertion turned out to be the least of her issues as time wore on—she could never remember anyone but Zero being so gentle with her. A small mewl escapes her—a cry dissolves into their kiss.
”…I love you—so much.”
She manages to whisper this, tiny digits wrapping around his wrists with a small coo. She presses his palms into her covered breasts, lashes lowering as a damp flush fills her cheeks. Their eyes meet. She kisses him once more.
Once upon a time, Zero wasn’t the first person to have her. Before they met each other, they’d both been with other people, loved other people. The hellspawn can’t be bothered to remember the name of the man who got to Abra first, but he does know that he did; and Zero, himself, had been with many, many people, mostly meaningless, except for one—who, of course, left him behind. Before each other, and long before Hell, there had been other people and other beds.
Now, it feels almost as if the slate has been wiped clean, almost as if the both of them are new and untouched. They remember what to do, distantly; they’re familiar with one another and their bodies, but it’s as if they’re going back to the beginning again.
Zero kisses Abra like it’s the first time, gently rubs and massages at her covered chest as though he’s never touched her before. He’s missed her. He’s missed her so much.
Abra whimpers faintly as that familiar tongue delves into her own mouth—she hitches in a small breath, gaze dimming by a fraction as she arches closer, feeling small fingers curl at Zero’s chest. A small coo escapes her, teeth lightly nipping at her husband’s upper lip, a sort of warmth beginning to wash over Abra’s thin form. It’s better than anything she’s felt before, she thinks—or at least, anything that she can remember. She absolutely adores him, falling victim to those soft kisses, the love he emitted.
Abra mewls this in the affirmative, a hand slowly raising to brush over his jaw, twine through his hair with a small huff. She shifts on his lap, straddling her partner in an almost awkward fashion as thin arms slip around his neck, her nose bumping lightly against Zero’s.
She may have forgotten all the details, but she seems to remember perfectly how to make him weak for her—soft hands touch his jaw, his hair, and his eyes fall shut. Abra almost makes him feel as dreamy as she always is, and he wrap his arms around her as she shifts, smiling and laughing lightly as he presses another kiss to her mouth.
“I love you,” he murmurs, growing slightly bolder as his hands drift over her breasts and her thighs, careful that his touch is as soft as hers.
They used to do this daily, he remembers. They’d stumble up the stairs and fall into bed, their hands all over each other, acting like teenagers, like animals. They’d fall into each other, hold each other while they slept, fell into dreams of one another.
Life is starting to feel real again.
He’s absolutely everything. Abra knows that she’s only meant to be with one boy—the ones before had been a blur, her life before had been a blur, there was only a flickering aura of gold and black tar. It was beautiful. She thinks they made it together. Abra hitches in a small breath as she feels strong hands encompass the span of her waist, a shiver rolling down her spine as bright eyes flicker, only to fall to a complete shut.
A small hitch of her breath, and she’s cooing as her wane face is caught in his hands. Bright eyes raise to watch her husband—he’s such a beautiful man, and her heart swells within the confines of her ribcage as she’s kissed. A small mewl dissolves into the contact—her lips part, inviting him to deepen such closeness.
There’s nothing in this world more beautiful than her. She’s more beautiful than anyone in any world, and he knows it’s true. She’s too small and sometimes her eyes are eerily vacant, but he still thinks she’s perfect. Anyone who thought otherwise would be smart to keep their mouths shut.
Zero gladly deepens the kiss, tongue delving into her mouth. He’s gentle in everything he does, almost uncharacteristically so compared to the way they used to be, but he’s still testing the waters, relearning the updated Abra.
She doesn’t seem to have any of the hang ups that previously plagued her. Perhap everyone was right, all the bad fades with time.
Oh, there it is—she whines at those tickles, grabbing onto Zero’s wrists and pressing his hands firmly to her sides so he might caress her rather than tickle her. She likes that more. She likes it when he coddles her and nuzzles her and she can’t help but coo sweetly, nuzzling into her partner and suddenly whimpering at those kisses to her neck. They cause a sweet flush to rise to her cheeks, prominent upper teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she shifts on her partner’s lap, a small huff escaping her.
She doesn’t protest—she loves those kisses, she loves them so very much that she can’t help but squirm against him and arch her spine a fraction, thick lashes lowering.
Zero raises his head and presses another kiss to the angel’s lips, breaking it only to brush noses with her and nuzzle back into her neck. His hands rest on her small hips, spanning the width of them entirely, and more kisses are pressed down her throat.
In contrast with the way things used to be, Zero feels the need to be more intimate with her when she seems willing enough; that conversation they had some time ago proved she has changed her thinking drastically. He doesn’t want her to feel neglected or strange because of the way things have been, so he’s been taking more liberties—like this one, letting his hands run up her sides, up her shoulders, over her neck. He holds her face in his hands and offers another kiss, gentle, lasting, deep.