Welcome to
The Decade of Decadence.
It's the denial of pleasure that leads to the cancer. It's the repression of desire that leads to the crime. So I skip the middleman. Allowing myself the crime in the first place. ((Independent Fantomex RP account. Please read the OOC tab in the "more" section.))
  • jessicafangirl:

Hello. My name is Prince Cheekbones. You killed my sister. Prepare to die.

    jessicafangirl:

    Hello. My name is Prince Cheekbones. You killed my sister. Prepare to die.

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  • fangedfirecracker:

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    Okay, but you’ve never been a mom. Mommy quiet time is like, required for even the toughest of moms. It’s a nonstop job.

    I’ve raised my fair share of children—one of which who dwarfed even your bundle of joy when it came to destructive capabilities. I still never found the need for quiet time.

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  • hydramadame:

    Viper took in a deep breath, and then pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. “You are wearing my patience thin, herr. Speak your business, or get out.” She couldn’t make heads or tails of his soliloquy, nor did she really want to.

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    "This meeting was entirely by chance—even if I had business, you’d think I’d have enough sense to seek out someone who’d be more willing to help." The thief leaned forward, resting a hand on the wall for support. He looked the epitome of nonchalance.

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  • fangedfirecracker:

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    I’m plenty tough. I’ve got the world rolling off my shoulders.

    Which would require a need for “mommy quiet time”—you’ve managed to fool even yourself.

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  • Anonymous said:

    *rubs ur thigh*

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  • fangedfirecracker:

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    It’s vintage swag, not vintage lame.

    Have I struck a nerve? Good—we could all use a bit of toughening up.

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  • aspecificskillset:

     

    [ Natasha watched him carefully, wondering whether or not she should go the same route as him. She did take on this moral standing that she liked, which meant killing no one unless necessary. And it seemed that’s where their differences began. 

    As she crept up behind her own guard, her hand covered his mouth just as Jean had done with his own, but instead she sent an electrical pulse through her Widow’s bite enough to knock him out for af ew good hours. ] 

    [Jean-Phillipe lowered the body down without a sound, wiping the knife free of the blood on the man’s jacket. His movements were swift, calculated, silent, and done with a professionalism that cried out just who exactly this man was. This was no hobby. This was a lifestyle.]

    [With a flick of his wrist, the knife he once held soared through the air and embedded itself within the throat of a guard who had just turned the corner and witnessed the scene. Jean-Phillipe broke into a sprint, grabbing the knife handle and the second dead man’s waist with a lunge. He ripped the knife free and lowered the second body without a peep. He signaled to Natasha to move forward—there would certainly be more.]

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