@butscrewmefirst, Countess Elizabeth March continuation of this thread, using beta editor

With the grace and stealth of a snake she inches closer, her flawless smile a lure surely neither any man nor woman can easily resist. Seems like they have something in common. Michael takes another sip of his beverage, surprise tugging his brows upward at the revelation delivered. Nobody else can hear, all pairs and groups across the bar busy with their own chatter. Well, except for Liz Taylor, who doesn't appear very impressed — she already knows her creator through and through, after all. Weighing Elizabeth's confession in his mind, he lets contemplation wipe initial surprise off his mien to crease his brows in thought. One hand now idly swaying the glass in its grip ere setting it down. ❛ A virus. A virus that makes you... drink blood? ❜ A pause. ❛ Odd. And, admittedly, fascinating. ❜

Michael memorized the guy she chose as asked, now pins his attention to him. Staring, sans blinking.

And an arhythmic wagging of his free fingertips graces the man with his own little... highlight. The glass in his hand contains old scotch. The amber shimmering liquid seems to harden while he doesn't pay it any glance. Flickering lights pose a side effect of Michael's conjuration, something he's long stopped to even notice. The substance in that glass splits into many fragments and turn into a mass of little spiders that skitter up the confines. All over his hand, into the sleeve of his jacket. The women jump away, screeching, while Michael's target reflexively throws the glass over the balcony's railing. Cussing loud enough to draw all attention his way, he performs an involuntary dance.

❛ There was a witch in the Cortez once ❜, Michael answers with a genuinely amused smile across his face. Only a brief side glance to Elizabeth momentarily cuts his focus away from his victim. ❛ You could say I'm one of her kind. ❜ Quickly bored by the poor guy, who meanwhile tossed his jacket away and hurries downstairs in a comical manner, Michael picks his own drink up again. Giving the Countess a pointed look. ❛ She died here. And I'm the only one who was able to free her ❜, bringing the glass to his lips, he simpers against the brim. ❛ What killed you? Or should I ask... who? ❜

IT WAS AND WAS NOT HIS SCENE, THIS. crowley didn't like clubs - his particular brand of dark and brooding was best achieved alone in his flat, or his car, or, if circumstances were truly dire and needed a good hard screaming at, alone in his car on the m-25.

he had his hands on the railing of a truly shoddy balcony, staring mildly out at the writhing sea of bodies on the floor. he also bore rather a neutral-to-poor opinion of disco, being that there was almost always something more interesting to listen to when given the choice. ( crowley could always be counted on to support counterculture, but when the counterculture in question went against rock and roll, his definition of support broadened to go to the club on occasion and try not to think about how aziraphale had invited him to woodstock when he had been away on business. ) the high waisted pants, however, were every bit his speed - to say nothing of the sin, though that came standard with most things in los angeles. the place fairly teemed with it, pride and gluttony and lust. as crowley looked on, the part of him that was serpent coiled up in delight. ( it was and was not his scene. he'd learned long ago not to fight with himself over it. that way, naturally, lay madness. ) talking of madness, there she was across the balcony: the disco queen herself, resplendent in her royal regalia. snakeskin heels clicked against metal as he cut a leisurely path around. one might have wondered, as crowley certainly did: hadn't @butscrewmefirst suffered enough for one lifetime? well, of course not - not if you asked downstairs - but it wasn't even really about her. rather, it was about what she would do to the brunette in the corner, who was tall and lean and unbroken, for now.

" well well, " he said, and smiled with too-sharp teeth - for the setting, indeed just sharp enough. " evening, your majesty. what're you drinking? "

🌈 ― aesthetically pleasing blog

⭐️ ― convincing portrayal of a canon character

💻 ― excellent writing

Positivity Meme! Always accepting!

it would be super easy to just tag @butscrewmefirst for all of the above tbh! Manon's blog is breathtaking, her writing is stunning, and I'm like 97% sure that she legally owns the Countess now because she's been writing Elizabeth so perfectly for so long. But you sent three emojis so you probably want three answers. So for 🌈 it's Manon!

⭐ is honestly really hard because even though I don't follow TOO many people, everyone on my dash is hand curated and fucking epic. I could tag SO MANY people here (this is your hint to send more symbols so I can love on more people) but I'm going to shout out @malka-lisitsa and her Katherine first! Not that Katherine was one dimensional in canon by any means, but November has taken her depth and development to the next level, and I just think that's beautiful. Lowkey suspicious that she is Katherine Pierce irl.

💻 - mmmm, I love writing with all my mutuals and I admire everyone's unique styles so much fjskhfsk @fullintenticns and @langdhon both have particularly unique styles that make my brain go brrr in the best of ways.

Thanks so much for sending this! I could talk all day about blogs I love and appreciate! 💙

❛  women  are  beginning  to  impress  me,  y’know.    ❜  he  is  surprised  that  no  one  has  killed  him  for  his  remarks.  ❛  i  couldn’t  run  a  hotel.  i  can  manage  money  and  offer  the  most  exceptional  advice  with  investment  inquiries.    ❜  he  has  lost  count  at  the  amount  of  glasses  he  has  had  —  he  is  surprised  that  the  hotel  is  so  quiet.   ❛  anyway  —  i  am  going  to  go  back  to  my  room  otherwise  my  wife  is  going  to  think  i’ve  went  missing. ❜    evelyn  would  be  ecstatic  to  be  referred  as  his  wife  but  they  weren’t  married.  ❛  goodnight. ❜    he  says  to  @butscrewmefirst.

❝ consider yourself lucky. you can't hear those maddening songs over and over again. but it's christmas and i reckon no one should be spared the torturing. so here you go, take this and put it in your ear. ❞

a little christmas gift from wednesday to @butscrewmefirst. she has one of those early 2000s mp3 players with the (apparently old???) headphones with that lil jack port. the first song playing is all i want for christmas is you.

@butscrewmefirst liked this post for a starter

Lips were parted in intense focus as the queen was drawing a very sharp line over the blonde's eyelid. It was not the first time Hyacinthe was doing someone else's makeup, and it would surely not be the last, but she always took a little longer than when she did her own makeup. It all came down to the face shape, after all, and it took a few minutes every time to get used to it. "Keep your eyes closed until it dries," she instructed.

Grabbing an eyeshadow palette, she dipped her brush into the black shadow and started padding the woman's lids. "Anyway, I guess you could say drag saved my life, in a way."

@butscrewmefirst

. . .

sun is but at the precipice of rising , early morning rays threatening to beam through glass panes of the hotel cortez's windows . the creature remains shrouded in the safety of shadows . bright eyes blink , bewilderment being brought to life through her countenance . arms fold just below bosom as hand covers mouth , fingers rapping against sanguine shaded lips . distant screams can be heard in the background . " ... what would you like me to do about - that ? "

@butscrewmefirst clicks on a video with a catchy little intro.

Severen watched the scene play out without much interest, wondering if he is supposed to appreciate the overly bland acting. As the woman bends over into the dryer, in an obviously provocative pose, she wails cartoonishly about being stuck. His eyes narrow in confusion. There seems to be plenty of room to him, what could she possibly be on about?

A man, who she claims is of some relation to her, wanders over to help. The immortal’s suspicion grows as the man begins to “assist” her in a manner both unhelpful and lewd. Severen leans back in the chair, rolling his eyes as heavy bass music starts to play, the couple soon unclothed and in coitus. “Is this it?” He looks up bored, “I read paperbacks racier ‘an this”.

@butscrewmefirst / elizabeth sent : ★ ( whatever context u want i am on board with )

the grunt was forced from him as his back hit the wall, cold and unyielding. they had the advantage of height, but she was a force to be reckoned with all the same. ' listen ! s'not like i mucked up your plans on purpose ! accidents happen, eh? ' nah, it had been on purpose - demon, what d'you expect?

they flashed the sort of grin that had, historically, gotten him in and out of trouble - in rather equal measure. ' you can't stay mad at me, yea? '

@butscrewmefirst: TUCK, sender tucks receiver’s hair behind their ear.

It's morning. Michael still hasn't woken up, lying on his side and half of his face buried in the pillows. Locks of his hair hang over the other half so that he'd barely manage to peek through them if he opened his eyes now. He's motionless when Elizabeth takes the liberty to expose that side of his face by moving his hair— it must be her nails tickling his skin in the process which lure him out of slumber. Grumbling under his breath, brows furrowing at first, with a suppressed yawn does Michael finally blink his lids open. At least of the one eye not pressed into the pillow.

Exhaling a content sigh as realization dawns what is happening, he reaches for Elizabeth's hand to keep it by his head. " Don't stop, please ", mumbles he, ere releasing her hand again to let his own drop back into the sheets.

cont. ; @butscrewmefirst

"Depends. You plan on gettin' up to some crazy evil? Get your ass kicked by a geriatci Vampire Slayer, gotta go back to all the other Rocky Horror vampires and tell 'em you got your tits knocked in the dirt by an old? I could get off on that."

@butscrewmefirst gets a starter 💕

travelling around to different cities and staying for a short amount of time, wasn't an uncommon thing for the vampire. vacation and work is mostly what led to malee travelling around a lot. most times she didn't mind it, while other times she'd rather disappear from the public altogether. checking into a nearby hotel, the pureblood sighed to herself as she would wait to meet up with her wife in the next day or so.

council meetings and such, wasn't really things that malee enjoyed going too. taking her room key however, a presence had caught the vampire's attention. " no, that will be all thanks. i'm pretty sure I can find my way to the room." she continues, before making her way towards the elevator. whoever the presence was, didn't really show themself but malee didn't think too much on it. a lot of places had creepy vibes or were haunted in most cases. " well. . . it could be worse." she spoke to herself while stepping into the elevator. " if my room is haunted, will I get a discount. .?" she mumbled, and hoped for the best.

ELIZABETH MARCH: THEY DIE FOR LOVE, YOU KILL FOR IT. those who would die for love see no other choice. they would rather die than be unloved, unwanted. hannibal had never craved that sort of affection, never thought he needed it, but if they were so willing to die for it, why should he deprive them of their desires? a hint of a smirk rests upon his features, tongue brushing against one fang, listening to elizabeth intently. she's right, they both know it. and he would not deny her of that truth, though instead of agreeing outright, curiosity gets the better of him. 'and you? what is it you kill for? if not love, then what?' @butscrewmefirst.

@butscrewmefirst​     *    a    thing    to   kick   us   off,      <3 

       the    road     had    been   so   long   it   seemed,    driving   from    madison   square    garden   all   the    way    to    los   angeles   for   the   next    match.   since   becoming    the    champ   she   knew    she’d    always    be,    the   double   champ,     life    had    been   hectic,   traveling   between   places,    hopping   between   monday    night    raw    and    friday    night   smackdown   in   order    to   preserve   her   place   at    the   top.   the   thing   about   sitting   in   the   throne,    always    is    there    someone   looking    to   knock   you   right   out   of   it.   

       exhaustion   colors   pale   features   as    the   man   of   the   masses   totes   both   brands’   belts    around   her   waist,    duffel   bag    hanging    from   shoulder.    hand   moves   to   ring   the   bell   as   she    approaches    front    desk,    but   for   a   long   while,   there   was   no   one.   “    ‘ello,   lads!   anyone   ‘ere?!    “     brash   irish   accent    thick    with    fatigue.   she   was   just    ready    for    what    little   sleep   she’d   be   able   to   get   before   the   press   conference.   elbow   rests   upon   counter   as   head   is   cradled   within   palm,   sighing.    

       “    alright,   ya   dopes,   this   isn’t   very   funny,   i’ve  been   drivin’   for  hours   ...   i   know   there’s   someone  ‘ere   who   can   check   me   in,   “       voice   laced   with   the   venom   intended    for    sasha   banks   tonight    spews   out   at   whatever   hotel   staff   might   be   listening.    

@butscrewmefirst

The blonde only has $145 to her name. The Joker and his partner in crime Harley Quinn are no more. They had a nasty quarrel and this time it's over for good. Or so she thinks. She heard about a place called the Hotel Cortez and leaving Gotham behind she decides it might be a good time to turn tail and run. Run from him. Although he kicked her out of the hideout the two mad clowns once shared, he is undoubtedly looking for her and Harley Quinn is damned if she wants to return to another night of his punches and bruises. The only way he knows how to make amends and make up, really.

The blonde's eyes are red and swollen from crying (Over him) and a single tear runs down her cheek, smearing her heavy eye makeup. She just needs a decent place to lay her head for the night and the Hotel Cortez looks beautiful. Something she could definitely get used to. There is a man in an evening gown at the counter and she is about to approach them when she sees a woman, another blonde coming down the staircase but this woman is absolutely stunning, gorgeous and looks like she stepped out of the fashion couture magazines that Harley always reads in the bathtub when she is soaking after a night of terrorizing Gotham with her Mistah J or just relaxing and winding down.

She waves to her, despite her hands full of last minute items she gathered in her hands and she drops her stuffed beaver, clumsily. "Shit," he mutters a curse under her breath then bends down with an arm full of stuff to fetch him off the carpet. "Excuse me! Lady.. Miss? Uh, how much do ya charge for the night? I'd like to stay here. My boyfriend and I had a fight."

“you have no idea how much you mean to me.” ❤️ I hope this is okay! I’m going for like a familial/platonic angle? / @butscrewmefirst

Hyacinthe let out a sigh so deep that it felt like their soul was leaving their body. They were laying on the floor of the woman's bedroom, looking for the cold of the marble after a massive mental breakdown that Elizabeth had dealt with as if she had always known the queen and how to calm them down. Sure, they heard her perfectly well but it was, in this moment, impossible for them to move or to even look her in the eyes. On the contrary, they closed their eyes and pressed their forehead to the floor.

It took them another few minutes to completely calm down and not feel like they could snap again. Slowly, they sat up to face Elizabeth who had patiently waited for them to come back. Finally, they had enough strength to give them a soft, yet sad smile, almost lifeless. "I know, I'm so..." Hyacinthe froze and had to take another breath not to break down again. Extending their arms, they nuzzled against Elizabeth's chest, resting their head on her shoulder. Hyacinthe, who was usually standing so tall, felt tiny inside her arms. "I'm sorry..."