✎ : your vocabulary tends to be bland / repetitive / basic && you should take small steps in introducing more complex words! ✏ : your vocabulary is WAY too complex ; tone down a little so i can understand what you write ✘  : your characterization is a little off ; it varies from canon in a way that isn’t too great ♥  : your romantic threads are awkward && need a little improvement ღ : you’re too harsh on yourself ; i actually like you writing a lot ♒ : needs more figurative language ; you tend to state things directly && that makes it bland ❃ : your punctuation / grammar / spelling needs improvement ( exclude any if not relevant ) ∞ : you should develop your AU ideas more ☄ : your dialogue is ( boring / repetitive / non-canonical ) && needs to be improved on ❖ : you aren’t respectful to your RP partners / followers ✿ : your character is too perfect ; everyone needs SOME flaws ☂ : you focus TOO MUCH on ( smut / angst / romance ) && I would really love to see you write ( insert genre ) ๑  : your writing tends to drag on with unimportant details / you tend to write too much about one particular thing ✄ : you need to improve on ( insert genre ie action / angst ) by ( …insert criticism ) ☼ : try to have confidence in yourself ; sometimes your hesitance holds you back ✉ : ( insert other constructive criticism )

“Hm.” She allows another soft chuckle to escape her lips, but her expression is rather pensive, she observes Aimé intently when he forces himself to get up. His face still has that unhealthy grey tone that betrays how unwell he truly feels  His smiles are truly heartening, but when he’s so obviously only pretending to be fine, they lose some of their strength, and they make a minuscule frown appear on her features.  Judging by the way he does this, it seems a habit. Why? She can come up with a few explanations. I don’t want to be a bother. I don’t want them to worry needlessly. They don’t care anyway. I don’t want to be weak. The corner of her lip twitches dangerously – a grimace she’s holding back. A sign that she’s about to say something that may be out of line. 

He does a good job of sounding confident, at the least, and even his posture is an improvement – for about five seconds. Andrea crosses her arms over her chest. “Sure. Coffee or something.” But she doesn’t move from her spot and she doesn’t seem to have any intention of moving, either. Her frown deepens, clearly vexed by his façade. “Why are you forcing yourself, doll? The café is a good idea, if it’s a quiet one, that is. It’s a good idea if it means you’ll feel more at ease – but only then. Do you know that if people can tell you’re not okay, but you don’t say anything, they’ll worry even more? If you want to hide something, hide it well.” Her words are harsh and biting, although she means well, her voice is not entirely robbed of gentleness. “Bah. I understand that you don’t feel comfortable letting a stranger like me know about this, but I hope it’s different when you’re with friends.” An annoyed sigh leaves her lips, accompanied with a dismissive wave of her hand; she makes to start walking after all. “The point is, you’re only supposed to hide the things you can handle on your own. Trust me, I know.” A little too well. And this is hypocrisy on her side, but he doesn’t need to know that, nor does she need to admit that to herself. She glances at Aimé, and her expression softens. She hesitates briefly before extending her hand to him, in case that’s something that makes him feel more at ease. She doubts it. “So will a coffee help you, or not? Or is this an attempt of the cute Casanova to woo me~?”

         Could you reblog or like this if you are open to interact          with a mortician/funeral director that is just slightly          creepy? 

{☣} This was amazing, watching the boy suffer from his anxiety attack was just the icing on his cake today. Moving closer every time the other decided to move away from him. It was amusing, tormenting an innocent person who wasn’t fighting him. The demon just kept creeping up on the other demon, this one however was pathetic and overcome by a human aliment. He wanted to throw up at the sight, was he actually playing him or was it an actual thing that he suffered from. Either way it was pathetic and an easy way to corrupt someone. He of course was not one to stoop down to that level, but tormenting them was a different story.

“Are you sure? It looks an awfully lot like a great faker. What are you, a con-artist or just really great at pretending to be sick?” A snarky smirk crossed his face while leaning in, cool grey eyes gleaming with excitement as he could see the physical panic in his eyes and the way he was breathing. Hexx was completely horrible, he was getting his rocks off on making the other suffer and possibly black out to the kind of treatment he was giving the poor boy. It also was growing his ego the more that Aimé struggled to get away from him. 

Hexx smiled at the other while watching how close he possibly was to either fainting or attacking. He was getting his sick kicks out of everything that he was putting the other through. He took note that he was slightly calming down, why was this? Hexx searched for the answer in his face, then looked down after seeing slight movement in the corner of his eye. He saw something that the other was getting at with his other hand, now what was it? His arm shot out and gripped his wrist tightly. “Now, taking away my fun. Or are you trying to shoot something up real quick, because you calmed down an awful lot.” Hexx tightened his grip around the other while licking his lips. He knew what the other was doing, but playing dumb and mean was far to entertaining than anything else. “You are just all sorts of fucked up, aren’t you pathetic.”

                 Φόβος—   It was then that Aimé realized that he would not escape this person very easily. Or easily at all. He would never be able to escape him in this state, that was for sure. He had already realized that the other was far from a kind person.  It was quite regularly he met those who were not very understanding, but this was a whole new level of horrid.    He was glad that he was actually starting to be capable of calming down. Finally he would be able to flee from this person. Finally he would not be able to worry about this whole thing. Then he could freely run away all he needed to. But hope fell away from him as soon as the other noticed him. Eyes widening and looking up at him with horror. "N.. No.. i'm not a drug addict! S..stop calling me that.." He spoke, his voice strong and loud at first, but quickly loosing its power.   Shrinking into himself, he made some effort to try and get him to let go of him as he could feel the panic grabbing him again. He was now cornered, and had the one way of escape taken away from him. His breathing rushed as he started tugging harder on his own wrist. "Please.. Let go." He begged, although he had little expectation towards the effectiveness of these words. "Let me go!" He yelled, louder this time, although he did not expect for anyone to come to help him.    "Why..." He started then, his breaths becoming moer irregular again. "Why are you.. doing this to me..?" He asked, giving up on attempting to loosen his arm from the iron grip the other held it in. He first stared at the others cruel expression. Trying to understand. Trying to find reason. However, when the other showed his true enjoyment of the whole situation, eyes would quickly lower to the ground as he tried to avoid any further communication with the other. Dearly wishing he could somehow escape the male’s grip before he would be unable to struggle at all against him.

Sensitive to energy was a trait that had always fit the elves to a T. It was something that was inescapable for them. It was as much a part of their instinct as the want to breathe, fighting against it was possible but not easy. So as the blond turned away, beginning to head to his apartment building. The force from the other seemed to stop him before he could register what was happening. His body told him to run; yet, he turned to look back at the other. 

The air only got thicker from there. It was drowning him. Clayton knew why Josh hadn’t left the car, its roll-cage was warded from this kind of attack. Part of him considered jumping back inside of it. Yet he knew that if he opened the door the ghoul inside would be crushed in an instant. 

It was hard to breathe, but it was useless for him to claim his name and not be able to stand against this. He could hear the ground shaking, the screams from people, the windows shattering. Some were even shouting that there was an earthquake, it only made him glance away for a moment. 

“What is this?” Clayton called to him, “Is this to prove yourself? Destroying part of the city? Doesn’t that destroy your low cover? Stop this now, Micah, this doesn’t need to happen.” He reasoned, knowing that already it would swarm about this. It was already too much damage. 

“Even you?” Andrea asks with a chuckle. Her eyes rest on Aimé’s features, carefully taking in his change in expression, trying to figure out whether he is forcing himself or not, whether he is feeling better or not. Andrea realises she is softer on him than on others because of his gentleness and rather spineless behaviour. She would rather scold him and look down on him; it is what she usually does around people like him, but something about the man makes her soft-hearted, cautious, unwilling to raise her voice around him. He has a certain air of vulnerability that makes Andrea feel bad for even frowning at him; and her smile falters when she realises that this is not really fair or healthy of her. She oughtn’t treat him any different simply because he appears more frail and weak than others; more pitiful. Now may not be the right time to speak to him in a harsher tone, but she ought to do so regardless, in the future. Certainly Aimé is willing to befriend are after this ( she won’t take ‘no’ for an answer anyway ), there’d be plenty of opportunities to warm him to her sharp, blunt words. A good resolve. “–You mean you’d go really far to make your crush like you? Doll, that doesn’t sound exactly clever. Put yourself before othe–ah?”

Oh no. That was sweet and cute. The words catch her off guard, and Andrea can swear she feels her cheeks growing warmer. A little. Or maybe they’re getting colder. Fact is that she stares at Aimé, lips parted & words cut off, that she seems nearly flustered. What to do? Oh no. She rolls with it, of course. Brings a hand to cover her mouth and stifles a chortle, coyly averts her eyes, exaggerating her initial reaction – a quick recovery of her initial surprise. Eyelids flutter as she bats her black eyelashes at him, a mockery of the typical shy and lovestruck girl you see in cartoons. “My, you pretend you’re shy and innocent but you’re actually a charmer, hm? I see how it is. Wolf in sheep’s clothing. Secretly a predator. You had me fooled there, doll. But, you can pick me up whenever~.” Can she take this as a sign that he’s feeling better? She’ll do it anyway. What an interesting, tumultuous first meeting.