ℒ ℑ ℱ ℰ ; ;

                                              ❝ but i’d rather hear you say it. ❞

               should she mirror you ?                this nymphet has brought kingdoms to crumble,                            & yet she feels ( n o t h i n g ) ;                 but only when her mind is in a shroud of sanguine                & flesh fills her belly to appease her hunger ———            beneath thin crimson skin she is softness & she is kind,                                      a woman fit for K I N G :                  to see her weak you put crawl & settle                  behind her cage of ivory, CLAW at her heart &                  make it yours.

                                                                an entity you may be but you manage                                                                 to switch her stability ; from predatory                                                                 innocence she becomes the P R E Y ———                                                                               & while you are weakened by her,                                                                you give her the power to strike you d o w n                                                                       with little CLAWS. your fear is equally shared,                                                                would you think she would rule a l o n e ?                                                                              ( you are A B O V E her )                      & for once she does not                      bite to kill ; she bites with                      a kitten like snarl, a paw                       lifted to P L A Y. you hold                      her contradiction & there is                      the chain to t a m e ; ; she                       will smile then rest a downy                      limb against you, head lolling                      in an almost woeful bliss.

                                                                     you will bare witness to a honey - limbed,                                                                      sparkling nymph ; give her life & she will dance                                                                      just to please ——- ( H O L D H E R ) & she will                                                                      never stray away.

                                             ❝ With Y O U ?                                         always ; do you want to                                   see something magical ? say yes. ❞

                " immortality must never                   be forgotten, darling. " 

         no longer did VENOM manifest          his words, a certain ( softness )           lingered through each syllable.          an foreign sense stung onto                   his lips upon mention ; ;           & though enigmatically,           you brought out the innocence          in what has long been JADED---          a heart that almost felt                     c h i l d i s h.                    instead of stone.

                                            & he, was more MONSTER                                                    than he was MAN                                               seeking solace in carnage,                                              the only warmth that remains                                          to pan throughout him was ( fire ) ;                                                    consider this HIS fault :                                                the travesty he's made from,                                           no one ever asked him otherwise.                                             perchance there's a bit of time,                                         before his inevitable self destruction,                       HE REMINDS YOU :                                           there is nothing left to prevent this. 

          so the LAMB turned into the LION,           all for the sake of the nymph ; ;            he's made the m i s t a k e                        of growing fond of.            this crown, is growing too heavy           for his weakening shoulders to            carry ; it's much too rusted            to salvage past the flames. 

            ❝in control of ourselves?               if that was the case, we’d               be a perfect race. there’s               nothing in this world that               humans can have control               over. emotions are fueled               by our environment, and while               we may customize it to an               extent, it may never really               to our liking——                     how many, do you think, fear                     the dark? and unless pushed,                     how many would stand in the                     light and rot rather than travel                     through the darkness?❞

         ”You’ll get the satisfaction of having                put a smile on my face.

"still cuter than you, hashtag swerve, son.”

             ❝are we slaves to our own fears?❞

                    ” my name used to be                               V I C T O R ; “                        —- & it felt heavy on his lips,                             much more like a                                          BURDEN,                             rather than a mere name                             as if such a word,                             held any bit of significance                                         to anyone.         his voice dared to break,         allowing emotion to surface         past a long jaded exterior,                A NAME —-                was a luxury, he:                an entity more powerful                than any god or goddess;                could never afford.

                                      each syllable,                                 reminds him of poison,                                slipping past his tongue—                               no disclaimer or warning.                             simply releasing it’s damage                                       with no remorse.

        he was               t e r r i f i e d ;         like a child begging         for their savior —-                 though he,         would not be surprised         when no hero comes to                       SAVE him ,         after all,         no one ever cared         for him anyway.

                                He’d long since pushed                                 any warmth far away,                                 fearing that they would                                 melt the freezing armor                                 he’d worked so tirelessly                                 to create.

       his own desperate        attempt to save himself.        & this time,        he’ll be broken —-        once he realizes that              there is absolutely                 N O T H I N G ,                   left to save.

                                      he is empty.                                       you could not call him a husk                                       of what he once was,                                       he was never anything                                       to  b e g i n  with ;                                       this skin, that he’s been cloaked in,                                       feels more like a THING —                                       he needs to itch off himself,                                                     not a piece of him                                                     truly seems to matter.            unlike a mortal,            he is so  e a s i l y            replaceable.                                        as a single entity leaves,                                        another is born to take                                        their place.                                        no matter how they perish,                                                   it is a cycle.                                        a vicious one, at that.

        & so he can only imagine,         an existence :         where he may be human.                   naive, careless,                 (  I N N O C E N T .  )

                                           he had a name.                                            he had a family.                                            he had a life of his own.                                            & though defenseless,                                            he’d been happy. 

       but unadulterated bliss,        is never given to        someone something        like him  ;        not ever so softly.

                                              CLOSURE :                                            comes in wars,                                            comes in dying,                                            comes at someone else’s                                                              e x p e n s e .

    his voice is like a whisper, taunting     and teasing and it brings a shiver to     her spine. apprehension locks her     limbs in place for his voice is     unfamiliar. she had expected     rumplestiltskin, or snow white

                        — perhaps even her dear husband.

           she did not expect this. 

 turning, hands clasped together over  her stomach beneath the bust of her  chest, regina turned curious and  slightly nervous eyes on her companion.

                   ’ you seem to know a lot about me…                   and yet i don’t even know your name. ‘

                & he'd dare to deem it repugnant :                  the a n g u i s h present in your eyes.                  you were in no means INNOCENT ,                  perchance far from the very thought.                                   but for a moment,                            he was u n c e r t a i n ,                  merely listening to your voice,                  the lines began to blur between                                        EVIL & CHASTE. 

                                                 a sinking feeling began                                                  to form within him ; ;                                                   he did not like it, no,                                                            not in the ( slight )                                                   & though he refuses to show it,                                                   his mind won't seem to stray                                                  past the present.

         ”Sometimes it’s just nice to s m i l e.                Come on. One?”

" —-it’s rude to stare, you know. " 

                     her voice was low and almost teasing as                      she spoke to the stranger, eyes of orange                      and red focused intently on him. Adrastia                      rarely let her eyes shift to their natural color                      in the presence of another; too big a risk,                      for humans were known for panicking at                      that of the unknown. However, the aura this                      particular being held didn’t strike her as                      normal. The scents, the colors—senses                      told her he wasn’t h u m a n, not completely.

                     " I know they are P R E T T Y…..                      But at least say hello. ”

          " I don't recall proper etiquette             holding any of my concerns. " 

                                            Destroy them.

                                        Destroy everything.

                                                                              You don’t need them.

               They’re vermin,                                     traitors,                                                                  foul little leeches.

                                       Disgusting. Pathetic.

    Kill them all.

                                        Wring their necks.                           Drain the juices from their corpses.

                                                                   Make them suffer.

                     A perfect blonde brow could have potentially                      disappeared into his hairline, he was so highly                      unimpressed with what was before him. Alas,                      his stare remained so stoic and the ICE within                      it never shattered.

“My area. My rules. Perhaps you   should get your head out of your   ass and open up both ears and   fucking listen.”

                      & a laugh couldn't help but to                        surface past her lips ; ;                        almost AMUSED by your antics--                       oh, you simply were a ( delight )                                                  weren't you?                        you couldn't truly be serious,                        as if you had any authority over her.                        suppose this was bad news,                                    on your behalf, of course --                                          you have no power. 

        ❝A book… An’ Dostoevsky said         ‘if there is no God then anything         is permitted.’… which I prefer.❞

' pitiful? dude, what century have you   been stuck in? wanting to be me is a   vibe. it’s something everyone wants. well,   only if i make them want it, but still! don’t   be rude. it’s not attractive or flattering. ’

              " you're so fucking idiotic. "                         & each syllable surfaced                                   like POISON ; ;                        simply listening to your banter                       tempted her to slap the living                       fuck out of you. Ironic, truly.                        her eyes darted to yours,                                    irritation far more than                                   ( present ) within them.