#helltoraise

there's footsteps approaching on the concrete. and, broken out of his melancholic reverie, he lifts his head to the sound, and stares for just a moment. it's not that he wants to. maybe it's because something about the other's presence seems off after a blink, or maybe it's merely because he hadn't expected anyone else to be here at this time. gaze is lowered quickly once he realizes his staring, a warm breath exhaled into the chilly air as eyes are once again fixed on the curbstone. the bench is empty next to him. and so he awkwardly moves his bag from the space beside him onto his lap. in his subconscious mind, it's an attempt to signal to the stranger that there is room to sit, or to show them that he does not take up too much of it, that he is trying not to be intimidating━ or whatever the hell would be appropriate in a social situation between humans. though it is way too far into the night and he is too exhausted by a horrible day to be good at any social interaction now. in any case, starting a conversation would surely come across as creepier than remaining silent, wouldn't it ?

it'd been ages since she'd last seen helmin,and all that time she'd been itching to take them to this playground,rumored to be haunted. she knew they'd like the vibe,the spookiness of it,and of course it'd have to be done at night. they were sat on swings,just enjoying each other's company after a long time a part. scout was the first to speak up,a small smile on her face as she looked over at helmin.

❝ i've been wanting to take you here for like ever. it's really rather peaceful,despite the rumors. don't you think ? ❞it was quiet,the moon was shining above them,and it was a crisp slightly chill night,stars shining brightly with a twinkle to them.

a long dark brown hair strand fell in front of damien's eyes, as he bowed his head to look down at his cellphone. thumbs tapping away upon his screen as he pretended to conduct a fake google search of what his dream meant. he waited for a seconds, slowly bobbing his head at the random websites he pulled up. "mhm . . . ah ! i see."

Often times, Clark was more akin to a rattlesnake with his ire and his prejudice against other demons. He'd hiss and let it be known he knew of their presence and they of his, but he'd do nothing more than that. A creature with the simple want to be left alone to spare it from having to bother baring its fangs.

It was in such a mood he found them, his now lukewarm cup of coffee grasped in his hands. His mother had raised him on politeness and manners and keeping his mouth shut if he had nothing pleasant to offer; he'd never been very good at that last one in the face of things he found to be unsavory.

𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬

16. how vocal is your muse when intimate?

intimate headcanon questions. [ ACCEPTING. ]

"oh my gooood!" voice is obnoxiously nasal, purposefully up an octave in very eminent mocking. a feigned pout purses her lips. "you really just couldn't wait a little longer for me to get the job done, could youuu?"