#T; Undecided

[vxctorx-archived]

@dontcxckitup​

continued x

  ❝—Well, I’m gladdened by the sentiment; I wouldn’t wish to blend in with them, either, although my filial duties sometimes prevent me from doing otherwise.❞ One cannot help but find the expression of ruffled discomfiture which worries the fine lines drawn across the young officer’s brow to be rather endearing; he is far from the petrous image of the austere army officials whom Lord Trevor has often entertained in past events. The fair scion chooses to take pity on him. ❝—If it’s any consolation, Colonel, there are certain advantages to being able to fit in with certain crowds. People tend to reveal more of themselves if they consider you to be of the same mind.❞

[deaf-fella]

@shxlmes​

continued x

The other’s downheartedness at his facetious remark is perceptible in the way that the arch of his smile falters, despite the other’s best efforts to appear unperturbed, and he silently chastises himself for the callous manner of jocosities which he has grown accustomed to throughout the years. His fingers curl into the fabric of the other’s overcoat before the sleuth manages to walk away, urging him to turn back as he attempts to rectify his earlier statement. 

  — I actually think it’s really sexy when you get all cocky. Confidence suits you.

[redheadjew]

@marshing-on

continued x

  ❝——I guess you wear it pretty well.❞ Often times, Stan’s guileless, inherent good-heartedness tends to outshine his stupidity. Kyle has always wondered whether that is partially the reason behind his particular talent for getting away with nearly anything, especially in the earlier days of their boyhood. 

The locks of his hair seem to steal away the sanguine heat of the flames as his head cants to the side so that he may observe the other’s reaction, although it is nothing compared to the scandalous tinge of shame which dusts the prominent ridges of his cheekbones upon discerning the rather indiscreet suggestion written into Stan’s words. ❝——Jesus, dude.❞ His breathless sigh melts within the crisp autumn air, even as his fingers move to curl into the other’s knee in a gesture which could hardly be interpreted as anything short of promising. His unreserved smile widens with a stifled snort at the abrupt dissonance erupting from the instrument.

 ❝——Maybe you’ll learn a song to play for me by the time you come visit me in California.❞

[autolycxs]

{ x }

        "I would, yes, if you could convince me         to do so. Though I wish you luck in that         particular endeavor; not even your pretty         smile could help you convince me to         lower my price. A man needs to live,         and it just so happens that I like to live         as a king would: in comfort and luxury."

[vxctorx-archived]

@ochrepaints​

continued x

  ❝—Well, I certainly try.❞ He lightly retorts, teaspoon swirling the sugar into a freshly poured cup of coffee, as his mirthful gaze takes in the other’s delicate form which has grown all but lost within the fine fabric of his bespoke shirt. ❝—So that’s where my shirt ended up. I was beginning to wonder.❞

[deaf-fella]

@fxckingmoran​

continued x

With the inscrutable expression written across his fair features, it would be near impossible for someone unfamiliar with his wry sense of humor to decide whether his following gestured words are genuine. The meaning behind the analogy is surely lost upon the marksman, either way.

  — No, I’m just trying to impart some of my wisdom to you. 

Sebastian’s signing motions may be graceless and confused, yet he somehow manages to get the point across every time; it is a quality which reflects upon the man’s entire character. He supposes there is something to be admired in that. He offers a mere nod to the other’s suggestion; he has never been one for hanging around in bars, yet so long as they are not on duty, there is little harm in indulging in one drink. 

[redheadjew]

@marshing-on

continued x

The verdurous forest of his gaze captures the aureate sunlight for mere moments, as his eyes roll upwards with poorly concealed fondness at the other’s words, before setting it free. He cannot recall the last time his pummeling heart had not threatened to break free from within the confines of his chest upon sensing the electrifying warmth of the other’s touch, and he chastises himself for it. 

His leaden gaze follows the contours of the callused fingers resting against his skin until it meets with the other’s, and before long he finds himself submerged within the bottomless oceans of the young man’s eyes. It is nearly enough to deafen him to Stan’s spoken offer, until he is jostled out of his reverie by the strong arms which he is lifted into. 

  ❝——Stan, what the hell are you doing?❞

[ofvexandcurse]

{ T h e B R O T H E R }

        A home. A life. A family. A normal routine. That is what they promised him, the suited men and pristine women of the orphanage, as they herded him off with strangers. Bags packed unceremoniously, clothes strewn in them messily due to a lack of time to fold them, and a single possession accompanied him on his journey. He had nothing else, save for the few clothes he had managed to get from his keepers at the orphanage, the one sole Christmas present he'd been given years back, and himself. It was pathetic, he knew, his beaten up suitcase and the frigid boy who owned it, but the person who came to retrieve him seemed not to notice, or care. Either way, the boy felt shame despite it. He had nothing to offer for this man, for his family. Nothing useful, anyways.

        How long the new family would keep him, he was not certain, but he doubted it would be for long. Why had they even wanted him in the first place? A queer looking child, with cold eyes, and an untamable tongue. He wasn't the sort that parents smiled at, nor the one that they cooed sweet promises to; he wasn't material for the perfect son. He was just... an orphan. Or, an-orphan-no-longer. A son, now, but for how long?

        It was his doubts that stilled his tongue on the journey to his new home, eyes glued outside the window, watching grey structures change to tall trees, cement to grass. The man next to him said little, save to explain a few precious rules of the household, and offer the information that there would, indeed, be another child there, though one older than he.

        It was that information that finally sparked curiosity within the boy, along with rebellion. Why did they need him if they already had a son? He'd find out soon enough, he hoped, as they finally came to a stop, down a driveway and through trees, in front of a home. A comely home, a nice one, grander than he'd ever been in. One that he was quickly shuffled up and into, clutching his suitcase, without a moment to take it in.

        Eyes glanced up from fraying shoes, narrowing on the boy who stood in the hall, as if waiting for them. A prompt from the man who stood behind him, and Vex raised his chin.

        ❝Who are you?❞

        Not the words that the man had been expecting, if the silence behind him was any indication, but Vex felt proud of himself. He may be here for however long they decided to keep him before throwing him away, but he'd certainly not let them use him, as the others had.

[jxmmas]

[text]: Just come over, watch a movie, and cuddle with me.

dontohfitzme

Text; Leo

I’ll be over in five minutes. 

Text; Leo

Do you get to choose the movie or do I?

[fallaxamet]

sonofpendragon liked this post for a starter

          Not a day passed that Edwin's thoughts were not drawn back. He had failed his parents, failed himself, and he had vowed to remain until he could complete his quest. Luckily for him, it had only taken years before Uther was gone, and years more for Gaius to break. He was by no means gone-- the old man would never leave his assistant, but he had let his eye relax in Edwin's regards. The man had managed to convince them all that he was safe-- that he truly served the Pendragons.

          There always seemed to be another Pendragon, and always someone to protect them. A curse, for those with an affliction such as Edwin's. Not the gift of sorcery-- that would never be considered an affliction, not even to those who had lost because of it, but the curse of a heart yearning for revenge. Revenge for those who had hurt him, his family, and others like him. One of whom he wanted revenge had passed-- a thing of his daughter's own doing, and the other... he lived on, under the protection of the new King.

          However, this King was a better man than Edwin had thought he could be-- even for a Pendragon. If it were for him that Edwin served, he could find little quarrel, so long as Arthur Pendragon kept him away from the elderly man who had allowed his parents to burn.

    "My Lord, I fear that I have nothing          to help you. I regret my words, but that does not          make them any less true. There is simply nothing."

[vxctorx-archived]

@ochrepaints​​

continued x

  ❝—If I didn’t know better, miss Adler, I would feel rather offended that you find me less threatening than the other gentlemen who have taken an interest in you.❞ He jests even as he allows the other to all but drag him away from the crowded scene behind them, amusement warming the fathomless blue of his eyes as he regards the woman upon his arm.

[vxctorx-archived]

@shxlmes​

continued x

The lapis blue of his eyes, warmed by the amber glow of the table lamp which illuminates his fair features, soften at the air of dejection which has enwrapped the other within its implacable grasp. Although he steals his glances from Victor’s percipient gaze, they are both well aware that his efforts are unavailing. It is always difficult to see Sherlock so disheartened, and it is an even more demanding feat to wash away the bitterness which the foreign taste of defeat has placed upon the man’s tongue. 

His kind fingers soothe the tension from the other’s arm in gentle strokes, his own book already forgotten upon his lap. ❝—You know that you don’t have to win them all, right?❞

[vxctorx-archived]

@pupil-of-law​ 

continued x

The petulant rise in his beloved’s voice enkindles the flame of mischief within the stuporous languor of his eyes, his fingers soon abandoning the cigarette held between them in the crystalline bed of his ashtray before they enwrap themselves around the soft contours of the other’s waist, and tackle him back into the silken tangle of the Egyptian cotton bedsheets which surround them in an emerald and golden haze. ❝—All right, I’ll write your letter!❞ His lilting baritone bubbles in-between his hushed giggles. 

The seized papers are placed upon the delectably pliant plane of Sebastian’s stomach, the ink of the pen beginning to trace across them in indulgently languid sways as he quietly recites each written word. ❝—Dear so and so, I write to inform you that I have fallen in love with a most wondrous creature by the name of Lord Sebastian Reed, by whom I am utterly spellbound, and to whom I have sworn to surrender my absolute devotion.❞ His lips caress the exquisite line drawn beneath the subtle crest of the other’s belly, and when his gaze finds the other’s once more, it is tinged with an unspoken promise. ❝—There’s my signature. What do you think?❞

[vxctorx-archived]

@pupil-of-law​

continued x

The midday zephyr whispers the ever-approaching end of the Summer spectacle to the canopy of trees which surrounds them. Clusters of bluebells clinging heavily onto their delicate branches encircle the blanket upon which Victor reclines, their blossoming buds poking through the lush grass alike droplets of sapphire. 

Sebastian’s stay at the family manor had been something of a spontaneous decision, spurred on by Victor’s desire not to spend yet another holiday in solitude within the labyrinthine walls of his childhood home; a place which he had learned to both love and despise long ago. 

The gilded curtains of his lashes flutter against the refined curve of his cheeks as cool water caresses his skin, the soft line of his lips curling into a smile as blue eyes which challenge the vividness of the wildflowers beneath his feet reveal themselves once more. 

  ❝—Beauty can be rather deceptive. A pretty veneer can always serve as a distraction to the sinister secrets which a place such as this may hold within itself. Then again, perhaps you already know this.❞ His leaden gaze lands upon the other with a sagacious sense of deliberation which one would seldom expect from a willful young man such as he. 

  ❝—I practically grew up in these woods. My nanny would always weave such dreadful ghost stories about this place that eventually I refused to sleep inside. I doubt you would have liked it here.❞ His hand abstractedly seeks out the sketchbook and pencil which rest beside him as his takes in the exquisite sight of his companion, his edacious gaze brushing against the contours of the other’s form as his fingers begin their languid dance upon a new page. 

  ❝—Besides, I much prefer you as you are.❞

[vxctorx-archived]

@fxckingmoran​​

The sonorous thrum of the music seeps beneath his skin, enhanced by the remnants of the cocaine chasing the blood in his veins. After a particularly long week of honest studying, he believes he has earned the entitlement to do something unreasonable. Which is perhaps why he chooses to challenge the bull of a man who has interrupted his stifled conversation with his fellow companions, in order to inform him that the owner of the establishment would like meet him in the privacy of his booth.

  ❝—You tell your boss that if he wants to have a chat, he can come to me.❞

[deaf-fella]

@palindroming​​

continued x

Silvern blues shift away from the sterilized needle held between the pads of his fingers, to his partner’s pained snarl in a cursory glance before he returns his focus to the task at hand. Beside his feet where he has knelt by the other’s seated figure, a first aid kit lies opened in a frantic haste, accompanied by a bottle of gin retrieved from the nightstand. They were quite fortunate that the bullet had only grazed Numbers’ flesh, rather than piercing through it. As clean as his stitchwork may be, he is doubtful that he would have been able to properly handle a bullet-embedded wound, and naturally in their line of work going to the hospital is completely out of the question, especially while they are so far from Fargo.

He cannot help his own hushed sigh of relief as the final bandage is placed against the now closed gash. He wraps his fingers around the neck of the bottle in a rough grasp in order to mask their minute quiver, taking a large swig from the cheap alcohol before all but shoving it into the other’s palm. His hands seem to have grown steady once more as they gesticulate towards the other, the faint glimmer in his gaze serving as the sole indication that his silent words are to be taken in jest.

  — Because you’re always too loud.