Send A And I Will Put My Music On Shuffle, Then Write A Starter Based On A Lyric From The First Song

Send a 🎧 and I will put my music on shuffle, then write a starter based on a lyric from the first song that plays

Actually it's a recurring Véghváry thing™

Rozy has no idea about modern slang and their meaning, will misuse/mix them in the worst ways possible. She's slowly losing a grip on newer/evolving Hungarian ones, you can imagine how she is with English.

Karma is extremely confused about most Pride stuff & doesn't understand what 'straight' means in that context. For her it means a respectable, honest person, she knows the 'norm' as heterosexual.

Cindy has absolutely no grip on what considered normal due to her insane level of power. That creating a dress out of stars is an everyday trick for her instead of a whatthefuck how is that even possible?? thing

Raia has no shortcomings. She did, does and will do her research to keep herself ahead of the game, as she always had done so.

what kind of tragedy are you?

wrong place, wrong time

it shouldn’t have been you. oh my love, you should have lived. if only. if only you had made a right instead of a left. if only your friend hadn’t had so much to drink. if only it hadn’t rained last night. then everything would be fine. a butterfly could have flapped its wings at another time and you would have have been fine. safety was so close, and yet so far. but alas, the stars just had to align.

A city was built in the sunkissed desert. Karma, seemingly eternally frozen in time only watched from her ebony mare as it grew, more vibrant, loud, populated, suffocating in crime. Witnessing its advancing was among her most surreal experiences. Her own realm, the unforgiving heated sandy wastelands were getting smaller, the city's thrum reaching far. With the ever growing crime rate more hastily or not even buried dead littered the outskirts.

Karma setting a foot in this town was a rarity, especially this deep but the shadows kept whispering, urging her to come. She had left Villám long before entering, thankfully the intelligent horse understood well why she had to stay behind.

The gunfighter's clothing barely changed throughout centuries, only she allowed more prominent metal chain fringes on her jacket, the decorations chiming with a soft finality with each move. The shadows led her to a museum, by then she also could feel it. Not sparing much attention to the displays nor the people; few, probably around closing time, that was good. She didn't know yet what would happen.

The aura was akin to a harsh push when she sensed it full force. Close, not too much but already enough for her eyes to morph even more. Her stainless steel heels a steady thunder of something unavoidable approaching.

Burgundy was a stark contrast against her bone white hair and skin, the chain fringes giving one final clink as she stopped at the entrance.

“This shithole is your doing.”

A statement bold and sure, the modern disguise of the demon incapable of fooling her senses. Poison eyes flicked to the criminal decorated wall.

“Along with other deeds indirectly leading to deaths of the undeserving.”

Sin City

Every now and then, Astaroth liked to don a human disguise and take a vacation to the surface. During these vacations, he would travel the world, checking in on the various cults that worshipped him, before settling in one spot for a few days and simply enjoying himself. He never stayed up for too long, lest anyone on Earth or up in Heaven figure out who he was.

A popular spot for him was Las Vegas, the city that gave him the idea to open a casino himself. He loved this city, so full of sin and vice, a true demon's paradise. So many casinos to see, so many other attractions, he never felt like he gave himself enough time for anything.

Today he was at the Mob Museum, somewhere he'd been meaning to visit for many years now. More than a few crime lords whose reach extended to Las Vegas had their blessing from Astaroth; his ability to lead men to treasure was a powerful one, and so often led people here. The blue-haired disguised human was grinning as he browsed the Wall of Mobsters, recognizing plenty of the photographs on the wall, some from reputation, some from meeting them personally.

@deathshadowed

“I was actually thinking about target practice” it was only a half joke

The atmosphere somber and calm, a combination never thought possible between them since they crossed paths. For some reason, Karma wanted to preserve it. Let it linger a little longer. Silence was something she was perhaps too familiar with, more than content with letting him talk.

“I don't and even if I wanted to, can't put you in a box. Maybe there isn't a...large one for you but more smaller ones. Don't think that's a bad thing.” Karma said carefully, taking into account all that was said, the actual meaning of the celebration. No wonder he felt this way.

Society's judgments were also among the things she never understood and didn't even want to. So feeble, fleeting ways to waste already short lives.

“I think-” maybe she shouldn't. But...he opened up too, genuinely.

“I think I loved a man once.” she needed to sit for this, the admission already feeling like a raw wound further deepened

“It wasn't like in the tales, he wasn't a good man, it wasn't even supposed to happen and I never...never said it to him. Of course neither did he to me.” a shaky intake of breath, ivory strands of hair pushed back perhaps a bit too aggressively “Yet he made me feel like no one could. And I killed him.”

Karma remembered that day so sharply, amost as if more than a century hadn't passed since. The fear. The rage. The silent then hysterical pleas. The vast emptiness after which never left.

“He came to me gravely wounded. How he tracked me in that state is still a mystery. He wanted- wanted me to do it. I couldn't, could've never but he forced my hand. Knew I wouldn't have done it in self defense, of course he knew. Then with his last strength smiled and said ‘Now you're able to kill anyone.’ ” she recited, shoulders tense as a bowstring pulled tight. And how right he was.

Karma didn't speak about how he knew her before she got her famous scar. How they were rivals in the same business of death. The way his eyes looked like an exotic predator's. How his features softened when he smiled genuinely or let those sharp contours of his face relax. That he saved her horse after she was poisoned and he came to her on that dusk for that favor to be returned. How she tracked down the ones who wounded him and murdered both with utmost drawn out cruelty. And now how she was contemplating shooting the man who occasionally reminded her of him sitting next to her.

“Which box does this put me in?”

@deathshadowed asked:

“Wanna crash the parade or party with me?”

The offer perhaps somewhat surprising from the always calculative hunter preferring the shadows instead the loud crowd. “It's been a while for me...y'know, I wasn't really invited to any events in life either. Had fun with mariachis mostly. Which was of course almost a sin worthy of a hanging at that time.” a pause after the brief reminiscence, continuing with a more hushed tone “Those colored things, pins, scarves, do you pick which color combination you like or goes with your outfit? Or what's with that?”

The offer had Striker stunned for a moment, not having expected her of all people to suggest going or hanging out together because of it. It had him feel calmer, at least seen by her, weird as it may sound, it was nice to be given a choice.

"I appreciate the offer, but it'd not be the same, but I'd rather hang out instead of partyin', can't say I have a mood fittin' for celebrating." He'd let out a long sigh, putting his knife down, having been keeping himself busy with sharpening it in a sort of meditation style, it helped him calm down.

"I don't know what colors I'd have, not sure what most of them mean, not sure if they have one for how I work." He'd stare at the dagger before starting to clean the blade from the light dirt from the polishing stone, starting to work it over with a damp cloth before going on a leather strap to remove the burr. "I know they mean freedom to them… Freedom to express themselves without anyone looking down or thinking less of them for it… It's something a lot of people have had to keep hidden in fear of being hurt, by the community, family, work… Airing out what's been kept inside is important, and I hope to get to do that one day once I find out what I am."

Finishing up the knife, he'd slide its sheath on his belt, looking winded as if he had just forgotten to breathe. "I'm just tired of being who people see me as and putting me in a box, or in the case of the parade, pushing me away from the boxes and having no idea about myself."

𝐆𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫. 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫. Ṣ̸̀o̷̖̒ul̴̖̃s̴n̶̔at̸c̴̍h̵̥͝e̸̾r.̷̺̑

𝓓𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝐨𝐫 𝕯𝖆𝖒𝖓𝖊𝖉; D̵̰̘͗͐e̸͚͑͆ȃ̶̆͐̆t̵̀̐̎ḩ̴̨̬̀ 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥.

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫

+𝟏𝟖 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲, 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐎𝐂 & 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲, 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦, 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥-𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐯𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞; 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭.

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐧: death personified, self exile in order to protect others, effects of solitude, a past that was left behind but resurfaced viciously, tremendous amount of power and potential purposely kept locked away, yet an another Véghváry who has no idea she's been cursed, wicked great marksmanship, buried six feet under but the coffin is already empty, unique way of dealing with souls, the neutral harbinger, the lone rider, swift justice

♡ /↻ 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐖𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡'𝐬 𝐖𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭

𝓓𝓪𝓶𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓙𝓪𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓮