#{ .⋅ ❈ ⋅. 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝. }

[icejjfishesz]

More Paige smut I touch myself reading wait for it over and over again

???? thanks????? ????

[virologikal]

𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 @judasiskariot requested: ship: Chris && Wesker (S.T.A.R.S. era) ⸻ 22: ﹝…in a rush of adrenaline﹞

With late summer well on the way, the streets of Raccoon City seemed more reminiscent of a cauldron, reflective surfaces of towering office buildings in the city proper only intensifying the heat, causing the air to flicker even in the late afternoon hours. Fortunate citizens elected to remain in their air-conditioned homes, while others took refuge in the recently opened swimming area at the Mendez River Docks. Children swarmed the Cafés in hopes of some quickly depleting ice cream, and fans were sold out everywhere, as notices plastered all over the city shopping area declared.

Still, none of it could compare to the heat of their breaths exchanged in much-too-close proximity as they stood, pressed against each other in spite of their layers of tactical equipment and cloth sticking to their damp skin, in an alleyway a few blocks away from the R.C.P.D.

It was dangerous, and stupid, yet alluring - a combination most enticing despite the risk it posed.

Wesker could hear the quickened breath, could feel it brush against his own lips while the both of them remained in stasis, a moment frozen in time as ocean blue observed amber from behind the security of shaded glass; calculating and studying as he always did, especially with Chris. The younger man had fascinated him from the moment he set foot into the S.T.A.R.S. office, and only kept pulling him in with easy smiles and boyish charm, a lighthearted stubbornness tethering him to his Captain as it seemed. Carefully testing boundaries and pushing buttons for the mere sake of curiosity needing satiation, their dance having already lasted numerous months, moth to flame, flame to moth.

Mere moments before, their team had ended their monthly training parkour, leading them through the Arklay Forest, down the trail and around the south of Raccoon City, past the university and across the circular river to the end point. Along the way, they faced various mock-encounters to prepare for actual emergencies. By the end of it, every single one of them was out of breath, sweating and, some of them, cursing.

It wasn’t unusual for Chris to stroll along back to the R.C.P.D. with Wesker, idly chatting away or trying to glean some personal information by prodding the older man with questions, but this time the blond could tell there was something else on his point-man’s mind.

Having spent as much time together on - and off - duty as they had, it became increasingly easy for Wesker to identify certain thought patterns in the other, especially when it came to him wanting to be inappropriately close in public. The hope of distracting the brunet and seizing the upperhand in all situations had long since been abandoned as Chris proved to only be spurred on when being told no, and thus gears had been shifted to enticing the other with secrecy.

The thrill of it seemed to work wonders, thankfully enough, and ensured at least a modicum of safety for Wesker, who found himself distracted more often than he had liked from the reality of their escapisms being not only dangerous for both their careers (as much as his was a farce, he still took pride in it), but also for his charade. And it certainly didn’t make things easier when it came to planning his desertion from Umbrella in the upcoming months.

A gentle touch from soft lips catching his lower one in a playful attempt to bring forth a reaction snapped Wesker from his train of thoughts, an involuntary shiver sliding down his back causing a tensing of his shoulders, while the other one’s hands reached to remove obtrusive shades from the bridge of his nose, tucking them away carefully in his breast pocket without breaking eye contact.

Narrowing his eyes briefly in the low light, Wesker reached, fingers of one hand curling around Chris’ chin, feeling the stubble under his tips as he tilted his head slowly, his eyes with no expression, not betraying the hunger and want he had felt all day while watching the other exert himself in the summer heat. Still their hearts pounded an unforgiving beat against their chests, blood rushing through their veins and dusting the younger one’s cheeks red, only noticeable by the analytic gaze of blue eyes never missing a detail despite the sinking sun’s glow upon their skin.

Words were considered for a brief moment as Wesker weighed the thought of teasing the other further, and by doing so inviting a chance to move their entanglement to his apartment, but when his lips parted, he could feel Chris’ body move against his in a sudden, unexpectedly strong motion, pushing up towards him despite fingers holding his chin, even ignoring the reflexive, warning pressure Wesker applied.

Hardly as composed as the blond was, Chris clearly had no patience for games and no thoughts left for any danger of possible exposure as his fingers curled into what little cloth of his Captain’s shirt he could grasp to pull him closer, lips pressing in unexpected desperation against his mouth and, when smoothed against each other, releasing a soundless sigh Wesker swallowed. Just when he thought he had successfully mastered the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Chris ignited the cinders again, fanning the fire like he always did, being the harbinger of unwise decisions Wesker was certain he would eventually regret one day.

Momentarily, however, he allowed himself to indulge, his hand releasing the other’s chin and grabbing his neck instead, fingernails digging into smooth skin before sliding up into soft hair where they curled and grabbed, tugging hard enough to bring forth an exquisite sound, muffled only by their sealed lips.

Intent on taking back control of the situation, he proceeded to part warm and soft lips with his tongue, too impatient and greedy to take his time, but finding Chris pliant and welcoming.

Wesker was no fool - he knew the implications of their actions, his actions, but found himself unable to resist all the same. Still, one of these days he would have to end whatever it was they had.

Unless he could convince Chris to follow him.

[halfdent]

❝    𝐁𝐀𝐃 ? ! 𝐁𝐀𝐃 ? !  Yer  call  this  bad  yer  frickin'  harlot  ? !  This  is  beyond  that  ,  this  is  𝐀  𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓  𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖  - is  what  this  is  !   ❞   Turning  their  head  to  see  just  how  many  pigs  were  on  their  tail  now  .  ❝    𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓  !  Get  in  !   ❞   Flinging  the  passenger  seat  door  open  . 

It  should  be  𝘏𝘈𝘙𝘝𝘌𝘠  driving  Miss  Daisy  not  him  ,  𝐓𝐖𝐎-𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄  despised  being  the  getaway  driver  .  That's  not  what  he's  meant  for  .  He's  a  big  fucking  deal  around  here  .  Crazy  broad  .

Foot  slams  against  the  accelerator  ,  partly  because  he  doesn't  want  to  go  back  to  Arkham  so  damn  soon  after  escaping  the  damned  place  and  two  parts  because  he's  furious  that  there's  at  least  three  sirens  shrieking  ,  ear  splitting  as  they  cut  through  the  night  .  ❝   Next  time  get  a  look  out  or  somethin'  damn  ammatuer  ,  here  shoot  someone !   ❞   At  this  point  that  gravelly  tone  is  just  spouting  out  aggression  and  nothing  more  , as  he  tosses  one  of  his  twins  to  her . 

*@qnzel ✘ / 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝙳: “ i’ll admit, this looks bad. ” ― 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍 / 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 .

[seaoftales]

Rumor has it that Lucci can easily be distracted with catnip

❝ ... ❞ There'd be hell to pay. ❝ Alright, which one of you fuckers ran their mouths? ❞

[deamare]

♡ ˚·  @peerlessscowl asked:

[ 𝐰𝐡𝐲 by way of 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 ] : sender has just asked receiver "why don't you love me"; sender is getting frustrated with their repressed affection and asks receiver to leave them alone. It took him a long time to notice the ghost in between them, if only because it was not his own. So used to the distance that he had put around himself from those who might approach him, Raven scarcely considered the tug of his footsteps in her direction might be met with the similar chill, the rift and the call from the other side of the veil haunting each of her footsteps away from him. It was in the small things, the gestures that he performed not by rote but by instinct, the hand not meant to be taken as they dismounted stairs or a carriage ride into the surrounding cities, the glimpses in one another's direction during a conversation with a third party, the tacit understanding they had begun to develop. And yet always, the invisible barrier that he had not until that moment noticed was the grip of fingers, at her elbow, at her hip, around her heart. She was no more distant with him than ever, but now that he saw the figure lurking in the background, she felt as faraway as if leagues of black ocean lay between them. "We'll stop in town," he said, at first softly, breaking the easy silence that had settled upon them during the ride, nudging his horse in that direction, and then said no more until they had stabled at the inn. "I'll go ahead and pay for two rooms." His tone terse, hardened and chilled, his boots hitting heavily against the rushes of the floor until he reached the door, jerking it open and stalking inside, allowing it to slam behind him in the cool night air.

Inexplicably, something between them shifts.

It is foreign and familiar all the same; the way that everything with him seems to be. There is a security to his company, an understanding that Ishtar has grown to quietly covet, that she has begun to notice when she is without.

As she adjusts her hold on leather reins and moves to follow without question, she can convince herself that the chill seeping in to the space between them is nothing but her imagination. It would not be the first time that love's ghost has tightened his hold on the threadbare rope once woven around her throat, pulling her away every time she dares step too close.

Only as she watches his back disappear behind a door does she dare to think it may have been otherwise.

So she lets him go without chase-- stepping within the building only well after he had, disappearing into the room he had secured for her without inquiring after which might be his. That is what he had wanted of her, surely, and yet she spends the next hour watching the door as though expecting him appear through it.

He does not.

Before she can think to stop herself, Ishtar steps out into the hallway. By this hour the inn has quieted, lights beneath doors extinguished. All but one, situated not even a full stride across from her own. She swallows hard against the hand that has returned to its place around her neck and steps forward, knocking against the frame once.

"If I have done something to offend you," her voice is quiet, suddenly timid, "please allow me to apologize..."

[scrrface]

amidst   the   clearance   of   fog   ---   by   dim   light   ,   melting   neon   of   a   buzzling   ,   pulsating   metropolis   ---   all   -   swallowing   monster   of   a   merciless   entity   ---   the   pull   of   death   weaves   itself   through   his   soul   like   a   red   thread   .   he   had   been   left   in   the   belief   of   such   threats   to   have   washed   away   ---   carried   with   the   approaching   tide   and   buried   within   its   embrace   .   to   be   spoken   free   of   a   curse   ,   latched   onto   the   elder's   being   .   in   his   man   -   made   cage   ,   in   this   underground   built   by   all   that   is   rotten   ,   grotesque   .   within   a   now   venerable   soul   ---   do   phantoms   and   ghosts   of   a   deeper   buried   secret   lie   awake   .   an   infernal   glimmer   ---   not   forgotten   but   abandoned   .   breath   hitches   .    ice   cubes   melting   against   the   glacial   surface   cupped   by   calloused   ,   jewelled   digits   .    a   huff   ,   a   dragged   exhale   in   midst   of   a   silence    --    perhaps   to   be   deemed   painful   in   the   absence   of   spoken   words   .    an   expression   with   little   to   show   and   even   less   to   say    --    veiled   by   his   usual   composure   .    a   throne   is   only   as   comfortable   as   his   own   demons   allow   him   to   indulge   into    --    an   atonement   far   from   any   form   of   salvation   he   would   ultimately   be   blessed   with   .    mind   is   absent   ,   floating   within   another   realm   as   tony   violently   gets   shaken   out   of   his   stream   of   thoughts   --   a   strong   enough   force   bumping   into   his   side   ,   not   enough   to   make   the   male   lose   his   balance   and   barely   enough   to   transport   him   into   the   current   --   if   it   was   not   for   the   content   of   the   glass   ,   resulting   in   a   quiet   hiss   .   he   is   met   by   the   whip   of   rage   ,   neither   his   own   nor   summoned   ---   fists   of   clothing   ,   as   he   is   dragged   outside   of   the   establishment   .   met   with   silence   ,   apathy   ---   an   absent   -   minded   veil   to   blur   patience   gradually   ebbing   .   .   traces   of   satisfaction   ,   the   singular   taste   remaining   upon   lips   (   knowing   they   are   about   to   indulge   in   such   sweet   reunion   ---   )   as   frame   is   shaken   briskly   .   jagged   ,   scarred   countenance   raises   ---   and   with   it   ,   the   crown   of   a   man   who   wished   to   lay   this   beast   to   rest   . 

@wellfell finds tony after a fight . / for tony hehe -- VIOLENT STARTERS ( accepting )

between  the  fingers  holding  his   burning  cigarette   ,  knuckles   freshly  bruised  ;  ugly  ,  bare  skin   .  he  can  taste  the  dried  blood  on  his mouth  ,  as  if   to  serve  as   a  reminder  of  his  presence   in  the  current   .   a  hiss  ,  disappointment   always  spoke  the  loudest  without   the   demand  for  any  sound  to  leave  his   lips   .  eventually   do   legs  give   in   to  the   exhaustion   --  and  he   lets  his  worn  body  rest  against  the  rusting  wall   ,  flat   on  his   back  .  his  shirt   ,   originally  of  an  ivory   colour   ,  freshly  soaked   by   an   injury   yet  to  be  examined   .  no   humming  between   his   ribs  ,  no   .  on  days  like  these  ,  the  yearning   proximity  of  peace   seems   so  close   ,   on  the   brink  where  dawn  meets   twilight  .   it   is   as   close  as  he  can   get  --   before   it   slips  his  fingers  once more .   which  doesn't  prevent   him   from  trying   each  time  anew   .

bloodied   visage   ,   soiled   by   an   aftermath   ---   first   with   mere   bare   hands   ---   before   own   ,   retired   and   polished   weapon   had   tore   the   night   apart   with   thunderous   shots   .   released   one   by   one   ,   in   heavy   precision   and   intent   .   smothered   ---   the   morbid   option   of   leaving   own   gun   tucked   away   ,   of   letting   calloused   digits   dig   and   tear   into   flesh   before   a   soul   leaves   its   body   .   did   it   matter   ,   at   the   end   of   the   day   ?   strands   have   fallen   into   his   face   as   he   notices   ---   yes   ,   this   long   shadow   of   a   silhouette   ,   spilling   itself   on   the   pavement   .   features   are   coloured   by   unreleased   tension   ,   heavy   frown   as   head   turns   half   -   way   ---   his   gaze   glides   before   arrow   of   a   glance   musters   her   presence   .   inexpressive   ---   a   muted   curtain   of   polished   steel   ---   merely   its   intensity   ,   left   to   speak   .   exhaustion   leaves   a   man   to   keep   own   crown   raised   ,   "   you   .   bringing   death   where   you   go   .   look   ,   what   you   have   done   to   me   .   "   ---   why   else   would   destiny   curse   him   with   such   curious   encounter   anew   ?   in   nocturne's   zenith   ?   in   seoul's   rotten   ,   secret   heart   ?   his   attempt   at   a   noiseless   ,   quiet   laugh   ---   interrupted   by   a   strained   cough   .   he   swallows   ,   with   that   dry   mouth   of   his   ,   licking   over   own   lips   ,   "   shouldn't   be   here   .   "   ,   muttered   .   .   as   head   lowers   .   an   all   to   well   known   ending   of   a   night   .

[moralpuppet]

@mayorspet 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 : " hey, Kiddo! What brings you.. here- "

A slight wave of concern, standing up from his desk at the Mayoral office.

" He's out, sorry if you needed something- otherwise, what's up? "

Leaning back against his desk, giving a friendly smile

✟ UNPOMPTED

The  man  at  the  desk  is  friendly  ,  in  good  spirits  ,  usually  so  would  Orel  be  as  he's  here  ;  he's  looking  for  his  father  so  there  is  only  a  smile  for  the  sake  of  courtesy  .  ❝  I  came  to  see  my  Da- ❞  𝐎𝐡  .  𝐇𝐞  𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐰  𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰  𝐡𝐞  𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝  𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞  𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝  𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲'𝐬  𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭.  𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲  𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠.

❝  It's  -  uh  -  family  stuff  .  I  guess  I  shouldn't  really  bother  him  even  if  he  was  at  work  ,  ...  or  drinking  .  ❞   Despite  the  boy's  chiper  tone  it  drops  off  at  the  end  in  a  slip  of  disappointment.  Grandpa's  condition  is  only  deteriorating  ,  Orel  at  least  thought  he  should  inform  his  father  on  it  considering  Clay  had  been  avoiding  both  Orel  and  Arthur  at  home  .  It  can  wait  until  he  gets  back  later  tonight  ,  or  in  the  early  hours  in  the  morning  .  Hold  on  Grandpa  .

For  now  he  forces  a  smile  and  says  a  little  . ❝  Thank  you  .  ❞ Before  turning  to  shuffle  out  of  the  door  once  more  .

[grellsaw]

🌸 ( hi )

❝ what's this ? another prim 'n proper lady who can not resist shallow praise ? i do fancy a bit of vanity here and there, so allow me to play the part of your mirror. a good sense of fashion, though you certainly could use more red in your wardrobe. next, that adorable face of yours. finally, it's those glassy slippers. i'd love a pair to call my own. ❞

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 ! ⸺ @verreprincesse

[ofdusk]

✧ ⁺ - @raikuroji asked:

it's odd, seeing her in person after all of the stories. he'd never met her. not on the battlefield, not in their real lives removed from all of that until now. shiro thought corrin would've been larger than life. she had to have been to have shaken up their entire country, to have led to—people keep saying he should be thankful they'd brokered peace. that he'd eventually be able to lead hoshido to recovery when he was old enough to ascend the throne. he doesn't know if she's thought of what her peace cost. but, it doesn't really matter. he's here because he's an envoy for queen hinoka. not as shinonome, who is ryoma's son, who she killed without killing— he kisses the back of her hand and feels the blood come away against his lips. "nice to finally meet you, aunt corrin." / a kiss on the back of their hand, formal yet intimate; a la post-conquest, as it were!

Crimson eyes blink soft, slow, considering the boy before her the way one might a painting of a distant past. Boy, no, that's not quite right. He is something more, and yet it's hard to come to terms with such a fact.

Not for the strangeness of time, but rather a grief she still has yet learned how to stifle. A guilt that, no matter how assured she is and will always be in her choices, follows her to bed every night.

He looks like his father, no spitting image but Ryoma is written in his every feature. It makes her chest heavy, watching him, feeling where they touch and the ghosts that sit between their skin.

Aunt, he calls her and, whether he intends it or not, a knife's edge twists in her heart. She wonders if he sees it in her gaze, feels it in how her hand trembles. She wonders, distantly, if he feels better for her guilt.

"It is nice to meet you as well," her voice is soft, steady, but it catches when lips start in the shape of his name. Corrin swallows.

"Shiro."

[videoaux-a]

Are you married to Rockange?

GOOD QUESTION ANON! LET ME GO AND CHECK - @rockange, DID WE EVER GET THOSE DIVORCE PAPERS SIGNED?

[widowkissed]

✧˚ · . @tersanctusordo asked / [ ordinary things: accepting ]

[ hum ] sender hums along to a song receiver is singing

It does not slip her attention, as so few things do.

Pale cheek to the cool ebony of an instrument worth no less than a quarter of her bounty, Kafka's eyes flutter open. The sound borders silent, perhaps imperceptable to another, but she hears it. A single string too loose, a single finger out of place-- the smallest imperfection.

Not hers, of course.

In the shop's dim light, he seems its only source. Painted lips curl, catlike as her violin warbles a final note. A hairsbreadth from the strings, her bow stops. As any good performer would, the widow bows as though the world is her stage and not some dreamscape pawnshop. As her body rises, so to do her eyes. They do not move from him as she sets the instrument back upon its display, gloved fingers lingering over its smooth body as one might a lover's.

"See something you like?" Amusement colors her empty iris. "What a shame, to see such a marvel abandoned. I might have taken her home myself." 

Might have, had she not attracted such pretentious company. A wistful sigh. "But it would be rude to steal on a first meeting."

[icejjfishesz]

How do you feel about Caitlin Clark fans calling angel ghetto, hoodrat, etc ?

it took me a min to respond to this cause i lowk couldn’t believe i got asked this since i think i’ve made my position very clear but…not good??

as a black woman, i have had to deal with micro aggressions such as this since i was small. i simply can’t imagine how hurtful it would be for a person to be openly called shit like that by a plethora of people for years. and to only be met with silence by the person the fans are doing it in the name of. it is nothing short of disgusting.

she is a young woman trying to play basketball like every else and yet she has been villainized by a good chunk of another players fans. and when people finally try and say something they get told to “shut up and dribble”. so no, i don’t like the comments at all. i think that’s pretty obvious…and anyone who does support those comments are likely the ones making them.

[virologikal]

𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐀𝐬𝐤 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞

@nshtn requested: 3, 5, 10, 17 for Wesker (I love your Wesker takes too ahh)

⸻ ⸨ Thank you for the many questions you sent in and I am glad you like my takes so far! I hope you don't mind me splitting some of the questions up in multiple posts so I can better tag them to the relevant characters ⸩

𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒:

3 - NoTP? I don't really have a strict NoTP for Wesker (or any characters, to be honest - I think all dynamics can be interesting to explore depending on how it's done and what the focus is). However, if we are talking about some form of intimacy or even trust at some point, I'd say the least likely I could see him with is Excella. I'm happy to be convinced otherwise, but from my point of view it feels like she is merely a tool to him, and he doesn't exactly hold her in high regards rather than consider her both useful and ... nice to be around, probably? She is gorgeous and ambitious, and clearly admires him to a point where it would cater to his ego, but I doubt he'd be interested in anything more than that.

5 - Out of all your fanworks that include Wesker, which is your favourite? When it comes to writing, definitely my fanfic The Unquiet Grave, because I get to explore his character both in past settings as well as think of ways to bring him into the current game lore. I just like prodding this character like a bug under a microscope. Otherwise, my fanart for him referencing a quote from Hannibal (TV series) is likely my current favorite. It took me roughly a month to finish, and is the only piece I currently have of just Wesker (I just love to paint Chris and Wesker together tbh^^)

10 - What's your favourite piece of fanart for Wesker? Honestly? Impossible to decide. There are so many amazing pieces of fanwork out there, be it in writing or art. I have a few pieces an old friend did back when we used to roleplay which they did for my portrayal and that I still hold very dear and close to my heart, so maybe those stick out a bit. But otherwise - I can't possibly decide on just one thing. All art or edits you find on this blog that I reblogged count as favorites, I'd say!

17 - What's a book, movie, or show you think Wesker would like? Funny enough, I have a headcanon post in the making that pertains to how Wesker perceives media (since there is a recurring theme of him not getting some media related jokes etc.)

To make it brief for the moment: In my interpretation of him, prior to the Mansion Incident he doesn't have time (or take the time) to really sit down and enjoy a tv show or movie, due to the many tasks on his hand. He has to juggle his work for Umbrella, his double-agent plans to leave them and take the research with him, lead the S.T.A.R.S. team as captain without attracting suspicion and at least pretend to have a social life of some capacity.

Once he starts spending time with Chris, he eventually lets him distract him and he actually sits down with him to do "regular person" things (at least for a while, until Umbrella informs him about their plan to use S.T.A.R.S. as test subjects during the Mansion Incident). During this time I imagine Wesker's interests would likely be directed towards anything sci-fi, due to the scientific approach to fictional settings in many shows or movies. Maybe not exactly Star Trek level (though Wesker being a Trekkie is a hilarious crack headcanon), but I'm thinking Event Horizon, Total Recall and, yes, Matrix (we simply cannot ignore the fashion inspiration of RE5 Wesker okay).

As for books, he definitely is an avid reader in my portrayal. Of course mostly scientific works, but also works about human studies (mostly so he could build up knowledge about interpersonal relationships, manipulation tactics, etc.). His special interest in my portrayal being sealife and diving, he would also read a lot about that, including sharks, as I also headcanon he considered Neptune as some sort of "pet".

[halfdent]

God  ,  equal  parts  hate  equal  parts  the  same  .  Skin  and  scars  conjoined  curl  up  to  bare  teeth  across  gape  and  lips  .  They  keep  his  cell  next  to  the  inscrutably  annoying  man  as  torture  now  don't  they  ?  It  has  to  be  .

@rihdler /𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐃: “you can’t lie to me, harv’. i know all your tells.”

❝    Tellin'  yer  to  𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊  𝐔𝐏  right  now  ,  that's  what  we  tells  .  No  lies  there  ;  𝐖𝐄  𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓  𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓  𝐓'𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊  𝐓𝐎  𝐘𝐄𝐑  !  ❞ Let  them  lick  their  wounds  in  peace  .

Slumped  against  the  wall  they  can  hear  the  latter's  prattle  as  always  .  Annoying  but  never  boring  nonetheless  .

❝    'Sides  ,  we'll  tell  ya  ,  𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒  𝐀𝐑𝐄  𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐑  𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍  𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐒 . . .  Trust  that  .   ❞

[seaoftales]

@taleofmuses sent: “Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”

Words couldn't describe the panic she felt as the doors slammed shut right in her face on her way out, a ghastly sound of a demon right behind her and approaching fast. The equipment in her hands that she scooped up quickly before intending to leave was dropped to the ground with a crash, and Blake bolted up the stairs to find a hiding spot.

Every single closet was opened frantically, each one of them full to the brim with clothes and shoes and boxes.

"Shit," she cursed, the footsteps of the demon following her up the stairs, coming closer once more. The attic wasn't an option, she was way too short to reach for the trapdoor in the ceiling, and she was running out of time. Having no other option, Blake bolted into the first bedroom, crawling under the bed and praying that the demon wouldn't find her.

It was just her luck, wasn't it? For one or the other reason, very aggressive ghosts were stupidly drawn to her, to the point where it became a pattern.

Eventually, the hunt stopped, and Liam's voice came through the coms. "O-okay..." Blake whimpered, staying right under the bed until he would come and get her.

[deamare]

♡ ˚·  @theofficersacademy asked:

"A moment of your time!" Emcee catches up to you before you can disperse to your room or rejoin with your teammates, or wherever else it is you're heading off to. "This way, this way." The strange host ushers you into a small shack, curtained off from the outside. They offer you a chair and a bright lamp hangs overhead. "Now then," they start, positioning themselves across from you. "The Rats have been mindbogglingly successful so far. Being a Rat yourself, how do you think you'll maintain this lead when you've now got the biggest target on your back?" In their hand is a voice amplifying stick, which they hold out to you now.

Ishtar blinks, startled by the sudden question and (perhaps more so) the strange device held to her face that insists she answer. She looks around a moment, as though they might consider finding another subject for this inquiry, then swallows.

"Carefully," she answers at last. With all of the other teams united against a shared enemy rather than themselves, it is certainly a precarious position. "Vengeance is a double edged blade-- twice as lethal."

Lips press thin. This game does not matter much to her in the end, but it is supposed to. She is, perhaps more than anything, good at doing what she is supposed to.

"And twice as difficult to wield."