@heavenly-demon / heavenly-demon.tumblr.com
are you fully coming back? 🥺
at the minute, working a full time job that averages 55h a week plus socializing ever so often all I can realistically commit to are: asks on this blog and very few threads on my dear Monet's one @snxwbird
Heavenly demon
Channing M (via de-morte)
here’s to reading old threads that awaken demons
“Oh, you are the king of all haunts. And sit on your golden rank, majestically. Murderer. Tyrant. Detached. Unfeeling.”
what do you think of the Donquixote Ladies getting all those suitors? and of Law?
"it's starting to get a bit irritating with the señoritas, but that’s what happens when you have very attractive ladies surrounded by thirsty losers”
“and with Law there’s no surprise either. we all knew he was a whore anyway.”
out: naming girls after virtues
in: naming them after vices
avarice, insolence, decadence, lunacy, vanity, conceit, hysteria, envy, apostasy, malice, rage would be good goth girl names
evil wife? Tell us about the wife please😗
What could any man want more than an extraordinarily dangerous woman with expensive tastes and a soft spot for manipulating her way into absolute power?
time to have evil sex with my villain wife
@terorre--sfregiato
Every year it was the same.
Two faces were dragged from the depths of her mind, all the more painful on this wretched day, the details of their features smudged by time. She mourned not even having a picture to remember them by, the sorrow only worsening due to the liquor surging through her bloodstream. The only things she truly remembered were their warm, loving smiles.
Lamy grimaced. It was a cruel joke of fate that one had perished in the midst of a fiery blaze, the other engulfed by the soft fall of fresh snow. She wondered if they would have gotten along well, if only they had gotten the chance to meet. They would hate to see them right now - at least this she knew for certain. Law was most likely in a similar state of mourning, having wordlessly withdrawn to his private chambers, door locked behind him.
The alcohol left a bitter sting in her throat as she took another gulp. Although she didn’t want to admit it to herself, she also grieved a third paternal figure on this day.
The cruel lies that had been woven around her still burned with betrayal - even over a decade later his hand still pulled certain strings in the darker parts of her mind. She knew that his ulterior goal had been to first sacrifice his, then her only sibling to obtain what he wanted, those years of feigned care and clever manipulation only the means to the end to bind their loyalty to him.
She didn’t know how much of it had been a facade and how much truth there had been in his actions and words, if any at all. It shouldn’t matter, really, not after Corazón had laid down his life to free the siblings from his heinous influence, protecting them until his heart had stopped beating.
Her own attachments had been genuine at least, no matter how hard she tried to forget some of them. She would never be rid of her parental ghosts, benevolent or wicked, not until she drew her last breath herself. Unstable fingers almost knocked down the nearly empty bottle as she set it down on the table, fingernails painfully burying themselves into her scalp as she rested her heavy head in her hands.
Happy father’s day, indeed.
so. i got to the corazon flashback
abs for Sinday? pretty please?
just for Sinday? abs for d a y s
The deep tone was his signifier to halt in his steps. Lavender hue shades hid his eyes as he stared down at the ground, fearing that a single look at the man would pull his soul from his body and leave nothing but the guilt and shame of a failed mission. Like a spider that crawled through the walls leaving an intricate web of lies, Cora’s foundation was made up of those silk threads.
Finally he brought his eyes up, past the frames of his glasses to stare into death itself. That uncanny grin made his skin crawl with regret. How he shared blood with this creature he would never understand. There was nothing he wanted more than to hide, but he needed to confront this man. There was nowhere else to run.
Holding up a small piece of paper, it read;
/ Dressrosa wasn’t enough, was it? /
A vortex of memories and regrets under his song of chaos and eternal harm. As if hell itself had opened its deepest chasm and regurgitated that poor excuse of a man right across from him. A dark chuckle eluded him, amusement rich in his shaded eyes: infinite despair eclipsed by his infinite wrath, and the long awaited catharsis arrived to him in the most unexpected of ways.
“Dressrosa made a good starting point.” His tongue darts along his lips and returns behind his white teeth, sharp in the way a tiger’s seem deadlier even when they are just about to pounce.
“You couldn’t stop me then.” He reminds his brother: the weak link of the Donquixote Pirates, just as lacking as his father had been. “—-what makes you think you can stop me now, brother?” The last word lacerates, a harsh whip over exposed skin while his grin crooks further.
This time he would forget about his father’s gun. This time he would cut his head, rip it off, if needs be, with his very own hands, and hang him up in his hall. Like a trophy.
Louise Glück, The Seven Ages (via antigonick)
Donquixote Family
♬ Eisbrecher - die engel
