devil's in the details.

THE REDHEAD FROWNED UPON his words, she had certainly not been living under a rock - nor had she been living in a shoe, as far as she could recall. Instead she merely leaned back a little, arms crossed over her full chest.          ❝   I’m not exactly from around …   ❞   That may be an oversimplification, but true nonetheless.   ❝   If you’re truly this  DEVIL  you claim to be  -  what are you doing amongst mere mortals  ?   ❞

❝  I  TOOK  A  vacation.  i  got  tired  of  being  my  father’s  little  puppet-pawn  and  decided  to  take  destiny  into  my  own  hands.  ‘s  quite  liberating,  actually.  ❞      he  admires  the  hair  on  her  head;  a  sort  of  reminder  for  the  FIRES  from  whence  he  came  and  all  that.   eyes  trail  down  her  figure,  appreciating  every  curve  and  dip.    

So! The response to this blog coming back has been amazing. I’m so glad to have reconnected with old friends and writers that I’ve admired throughout the years. Already, after just one week of being around, I’ve amassed over 200 followers-- and each of you are incredibly important to me. Even if we’re non-mutuals!

I’d like to take a minute to mention those that give me inspiration on my dashboard or who have been unprecedentedly kind to others.   especially  during  the  last  few  weeks.

❝   AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW who you are ?   ❞   The way this man spoke, as though Mera ought to know who he was. He might even be a celebrity, and yet, after trying to understand the culture her husband was born into - she still failed. She couldn’t care less.

*┊ ♕  ╌ @dadgiven· liked.

❝  WELL  THAT  DEPENDS,  how  long’ve  you  been  living  under  the  rock  y’crawled  out  from  under?  or  mayhaps  you’re  the  old  women  who  lives  in  a  shoe?  ❞       his  smile  is  venomous,  parked  beneath  two  wild  brown  eyes  that  drink  in  the  sight  of  fire  and  ocean’s  spray.  anyone  who’s  anyone  knew  who  he  was,  in  legend  at  least.  whether  or  not  they  BELIEVED  him  was  another  story  all  together.      

“WELL UNLESS you have the power to stop humans from being imbeciles and assholes, then i’m afraid i’m NOT INTERESTED.” an ever familiar smirk curls up on her lips. “besides, i’ve learned not to just trust strangers — so why would i follow through with your offer?” it’s somewhat tempting, that, she CANNOT DENY. but what she needs right now isn’t a favor, it’s justice. 

ITS  A  GENUINE  laugh,  lips  curled  into  their  gentlemanly  cheshire  grin.   quite  the  spitfire,  wasn’t  she?  and  he  liked  it  when  they  could  crack  out  a  joke  or  two.  he  sits  beside  her,  legs  under  the  counter  and  his  hands  deep  within  his  pockets.  he  produces  a  shimmering  Pentecostal  Coin  from  their  confines,  thumb  smoothing  against  the  surface.     ❝   yes,  yes,  why  oh  why  indeed?  ugh,  and  here  i  thought  we  could  skip  the  pleasantries.  ❞     he  pauses,  shifting  in  his  seat.     ❝   well  let’s  put  a  stop  to  that,  shall  we?   i’ll  show  you  MINE  if  you  show  me  YOURS  and  all  that  jazz.   here,  i’ll  go  first.   ❞   

another  roll  of  her  hues  ,  lips  pursued  .  her  chin  rested  on  her  palm  ,  the  topic  of  conversation  was  something  she  was  far  too  familiar  .   “   if men  in  spandex  do  it  for  you  then  i  could  give  you  batman’s  number  too  ?   ”   sarcasm  coated  her  tongue  .  the  reporter  broke  her  intense  stare  to  survey  his  frame  .  so  this  was  an  lapd  civilian  consultant  …

her  attention  perked  .  chin  leaving  her  palm  as  her  digits  met  his  once  more  .  a  small  half  smile  started  to  curve  in  the  corner  of  her  lips  .  “   i’m  writing  a  piece  on  the  CORRUPTION  of  the  lapd.   ”  she  waits  for  the  uneasy  body  shift  .  the  sweat  building  .  but  nothing  .  “   sources  tell  me  you’re  a  civilian  consultant ?   allegations  include  BRIBERY  from  criminals .  are  you  willing  to  comment ?   ”

NO,  HE  HOLDS  her  gaze.  the  ice  in  his  drink  shifts  as  it  is  set  down,  the  movement  graceful  through  long  and  lanky  limbs.  he  laughs  halfheartedly,  fingers  making  haste  to  rub  the  stubble  around  his  mouth.         ❝  you  people  have  no  BLOODY  idea  what  you’re  talking  about.  ❞

‘  to believe in the devil & to believe in you are two separate entities. i do not care for either ONLY what motive brings you so close to the wakandan embassy.  ’

❝   NO... NO  I  don’t  think  you’re  quite  understanding,  compadre.  you  see,  i  AM  the  devil.  there’s  no  ‘separate’  about  it.   what  did  you  expect,  horns  and  a  tail?   ❞        brows  lift  for  emphasis,  hands  buried  in  the  silken  confines  of  an  expensive  suit  from  valentino’s  spring  collection.   he  makes  eye-contact,  head  canted  so  that  he  can  level  with  this  ‘king’.        

BROWS FURROW, and she chuckles uncomfortably — clearly she’s impinging upon his plans. “why would i just tell you something like that?” lorna questions, pursing her lips together for a moment. “why do you care?”

‘   ——-   i want for nothing more than to sedate my curiosity on who the self-claimed devil wondering these streets are.   ’