|Martin Freeman sketch|
AffairShe was still a lounge singer when she met her lover. He was tall, dark, lean, tough; everything her husband wasn't. He approached her with a mischievous smile when the band took a break. She looked coyly up at him through her long lashes and gave him a sweet smile in return.Affair by OminousDemure
“You have such a beautiful voice,” he murmured in her ear, his voice a suave, smooth baritone rumbling through his chest. It sent shivers down her spine and made her grip the back of a nearby chair. She regained her composure and flipped her hair over her shoulder.
“It’s a gift. What brings you here stranger?” she replied coolly. He tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear and let his fingertips graze down her jaw line.
The night drifted on and they ended up going to his flat together. She had no reservations in sleeping with him that first night. Nor the second, or the third. She had no problem lying to her husband about her trip down to Mexico with the other man. She told him
LuceCharacter: LuceLuce by OminousDemure
Birthday: March 1
Room: Luce lives in a decent sized one-bedroom apartment. The bedroom is smallish, the walls are painted marine blue, the floor covered in a dingy, once white carpet. There’s a rug on the floor patterned like the Fourth Doctor’s scarf, hand made for Luce’s 18th birthday. The walls are covered in posters and pictures she’s collected over the years and a markerboard calendar. There’s a crack in the wall left by the previous tenant. Luce’s full-size bed is pushed up in the corner, beneath the room’s only window. Across from the bed is a large walk-in closet that houses the washer and dryer; the door to said closet leans against the wall over the doorway, the hinges gone. A large trunk sits on the floor at the end of the bed; a 1920’s era Louis Vuitton trunk that belonged to Luce’s great grandmother. The quilt on the bed was a graduation gift fro
SingSing. Just sing, don’t think about it. The crowd isn’t there. You’re home. Alone. Silence. Close your eyes and let it go. There is nothing but your reflection. Let the notes fly from your lips like butterflies flurrying from rose bushes. Don’t sweat the cracks if they come. Don’t let it bother you. You are isolated in your mind. Don’t let them in, don’t let them see. Let it go. The song is yours, you belong to the song. You are one. Let yourself go, let your soul spill into each note. Make them feel everything you feel. Transcend the fear and limitations. You are free. Soar.Sing by OminousDemure
|I never said I was good.|
I'm an amateur artist and a hobbyist writer, actress, and singer. I hope to be a professional in one or two of these some day, but if that day never comes- my fall back is psychology and psychotherapy, or being a history professor. Whichever one becomes more pertinent in the near future.|
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