#ofrhapsodes

@ofrhapsodes​ asked: MISTLETOE... 

                ⁠— it was rare to see such color on her pale cheeks ( rosy & healthy, beaming with adoration ) and while it felt very foreign to her, luna embraced the feeling. slender digits felt at the greenery in her hand, walking slowly to find her beloved ( oh... an endearment for him ) in the huge mob of people. she was the brightest thing in the urban underground & most certainly looked out of place amongst the men versus worked with  — even so, she wanted to partake in this... whatever it was. 

he was a loner by nature, a thinker and always pensive ( he was handsome...) & and upon finding him near a wall, staying idle near one of the cars; luna approached slowly. she felt a bubble of excitement when he finally took notice of her presence. without a single word, the delicate girl got on her tiptoes to dangle the mistletoe above his head. 

her lips pressed against his ( it was hard and when she departed, her lips tingled ) & her face became flushed after the bold move. her mission was simple  — wave the mistletoe, tell him to have a merry christmas ( or happy holidays or whatever full-fledged mortals did ). 

⚔️ *:･ﾟ✧┆who do you ship with my muse? ❪ accepting! ❫

hi yes hello pls give me this???

SEDUCTION STARTERS | ACCEPTING

Aerith raised a SUSPICIOUS eyebrow as Genesis took her hand, but she was so surprised by his kiss that she didn’t move for a moment. Why the hell had he decided to kiss her hand like this ? She still didn’t know what to think of the former SOLDIER; she only wished he could give her some informations about what had happened to Zack. 

blblblbl thank you sooo much !!!! ♥♥ it’s make me so happy to see messages like this !! ♥

ofrhapsodes replied to your post: Early Christmas? :>>>>>>>>>...

No.

send an @ and i will mention & post some positivity about a fellow tumblr user.    /    always accepting.

@flamereign

where do i even start with enya. literally the definition of a ‘follow forever’ for me --- i don’t give a fuck which blogs either of us make, i am sticking with you. ( i feel like, given that we met several of my blogs ago and somehow managed to keep finding each other, it’s a given. ) i don’t give a fuck if we both reach the point of exhaustion where we cant even be bothered to rp, i’ll still cling to you beyond this whole tumblr mess and that’s just the tea. you are a genuinely wonderful person and even if we just manage to send each other one quick message in a day, it brightens my day up. i just?? adore you. and dont even get me started on the writing. YOU’RE SO FUCKING TALENTED, everything you write is so delightful to read and i’m constantly excited to talk plots w/ u and come out with a thousand other au’s that we’ll create a million threads for and never run out of things to look forward to writing together. blows a million kisses. lksgmklfldfkmgxcslfdkxc ily. 

@ofrhapsodes

Send 💦 to encounter my Muse crying || Not Accepting.

   It had been a few days since he left the shop, not particularly keen on keeping track of time during that expedition. From Capulet, he went all the way back to Red Grave, not leaving any clue of his whereabouts behind---Dante should not expect him to be around 24/7 either; over the years, he had convinced himself that being busy, or trying to be so, was a great distraction from the evergrowing feeling of loneliness that always wallowed in his soul.

  He convinced himself that he was going to look for their family’s legal assets, paperwork confirming their legal existence in the city as residents, as well as lay claim on their father’s bank account. From what he had read in several journals of his, he seemed to have quite the income from selling off several pieces of classical art, pledges from people that expressed their gratitude towards him this way. It would probably be a way to save Dante from the debt, either way...

  Traveling there was the easy part---staying there was what troubled him the most. Upon seeing the house atop the hill, rampaged by his own demonic side, he only felt grief for the destruction caused---the marble floors were stained by fire, the furniture was broken and shoved to the sides of what used to be chambers. Prancing around halls, entering rooms and finding memories, under the beds, behind the stairs, inside the closets. For a whole day, maybe more, he seemed to have lost current time from his senses, eyes glazed in echoes of images, rediscovering a house so familiar, so warm. He could swear he could hear Dante laughing warmly into the room next door, the sound of two pairs of feet dashing past the corridors. Mother’s voice and the scent of strawberry marmalade---all the things that made this his home. 

  He didn’t know for how long he had been standing before the fireplace, gazing up to the portrait of their family, ruined by the smoke of the fire. Every thought pointed to its direction in the end, this very item being the harsh reminder of what hid behind the wanderings of his mind; the reality of this never coming back, of it being only a memory. And it hurt. It hurt more than he would ever like to admit. If only he could change it all, go back in---No; even more so...

     Could he just wake up, five years old, cuddled in the bed with his little     brother and tears in his eyes; tell his parents he had a nightmare and     they’d say it was only that. A nightmare.

  Vergil had been crying with sobs, in the end---in this ghost of a home, lost into times past, into blood and screams and fire. And it burned still; it burned his skin off as his control run lower and lower and all that was left was a devil on his knees, clawing his chest open, shedding tears of melted gold and it burned...

           IT BURNS!!! The more his talons dug into his chest,       he roared in the voice of a-- can you hear it?                           --- the sound of a baby crying ---

           and then it hushed; two arms wrapping around him --- another           pair of clawed, red hands grabbing onto wrists...

And he had not changed. Nothing had changed. 

The attacker’s presence had eerily remained the same, but HOW was he still breathing? How was he still alive to plague him? There was nothing about him that they could need; and even if, he was sure that if he explained to the other that they had mostly been hiding from command, that he was a mismatched mix of spareparts with no mission, nothing to go by except the will to become complete and survive, he would laugh, and abandon or betray them. 

He had to keep some form of authority, and not lay their situation bare, but with 4S being kind and naive, that surely was going to be difficult. A6 could very visibly tell that he felt protective of the scanner model. Your people. Or did he think they were more?