[insert god]

death to your thousand years of reign.

[forwrath]

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#FORWRATH hear her wake, the many-faced one is here. i am disorder. (you defied punishment. devoured the god to which you were offered to as food.) parasitic in aura, a godhood that stains your skin. flesh bound, etched artifacts; a glowing curse gripping taut. with no place to call home you roam, and roam. not affiliated with creator's or rpcs. will contain dark themes. [ inspo. lucretia vega. ]

¹ CARRD. / ² ASK. / ³ MEMES.

BURNING ALONGSIDE: @fordefy / @forgreed / @skrimslis / @cautionarys / @decaeys

one. this is a low-activity hobby and i am mainly here to write about my nifty man with my friends. i soft-block liberally (if i am made uncomfortable) and am not here for petty drama. mutuals only, please do not interact with my posts if we are not mutuals. i am oc, multi and canon friendly. standard rp etiquette applies.

two. i am very canon divergent & hc based. while i appreciate the source material this is my own interpretation. i would appreciate it if no inspiration / copying / stealing is done from my work.

three. i would appreciate if you wrote with me to not use double spacing or illegible text. it is very hard for my eyes to focus generally, and i would like to make the writing experience as easy as i can.

four. don't be a weirdo. i block liberally for those that fall under the standard DFI criteria. i reserve the right to curate my space for my own comfort and for that of my friends.

five. cred to @fordefy for my graphics.

// : PRIMARY...

jean grey, marvel comics, unaffiliated with the rpc. getō suguru, jjk, affiliates: @skrimslis's gojo satoru, @fordefy's ieiri shōko abyss-walker artorias, dark souls, hc heavy. mairon, tolkien verse + a lot of my own lore and development. lucretia vega, oc, oath-broken paladin with an affinity for sanguimancy. valencia voltaire, oc. doctor & specialist of extranatural sciences, bloodborne mainverse. grace ashcroft, resident evil requiem.

// : LOW ACTIVITY...

lune, expedition 33. g'raha tia, final fantasy xiv, affiliates: @fordefy's thancred. blade, honkai 3rd impact. removed from canon. jill valentine, resident evil franchise.

// : VOICE TESTING...

absolute wonder woman, dc.

[davikahoorne]

[forwrath]

holding your lover by the jaw to kiss them. ( laura & valencia... haha what if it was in the library and valencia was reading and laura was like damn, look at me when i'm talking to you.... and kissed her to make a point... haha unless? )

intent on the study before them valencia does very little to pay attention to the other in her vicinity. there might be a huff, or a push of her body past the other. (she often paced as she worked; thinking out loud. fidgeting with papers and pens alike. & at times cursing in lost languages.) but no recognition of pink haired woman's presence beyond those rude musings. they were close to figuring out how to separate nuisance of a soul that parasitically attached itself to laura's own. understanding the blood, examining the intricacies behind it. not to mention the complexities that kept horror bound remnant stitched unto mind matter. ❝ what is the soul anyway? ❞ murmuring through laura's explanation of how the event occurred. not quite listening, not quite not listening either. abruptly grabbing the other's wrist to take blood with soft yet horribly cold hands. which shouldn't mean that much to a vampire, but even then the chill could put off the best of people. (not thinking about the hunger that could crawl up a vampires belly from the lack of sanguine sustenance. or perhaps not caring.) it's a quick poke, insertion and then a longer pull than likely necessary. but lena wanted enough that she wouldn't have to go back for more. ❝ —right. ❞ autopilot. how could one have a patient without regarding the patient any attention? valencia saw a subject and an ailment, not the flesh between. or at least, she saw the flesh as another hurdle to have to work through. not as a relatable existence, no. a species specialist mainly due to obsession with knowing everything she could about the world around them. vampire, god, werewolf, fey or witch. not an ounce of knowledge would escape her as long as her patient was able to endure the scathing beside manner. then just as she sets the blood upon slide, demanding palm moves over her jaw. tugging attention back to laura; gaze meeting just before full tiers press to her own. gasp muffled by their joining, lena's own parting in surprise. there's no time before the other is upon her; palms moving to gently attempt to let the slide go. not wanting to break it or go through due process again. however; it was hard to deny the other directly placing herself atop the doctor's lap. scoff fleeing valencia now as their lips collide again. when she manages a breath, brows knit. ❝ —did @decaeys kiss me simply because I wasn't listening to you rant? ❞ but there is no move to add space between them.

KISS MY MUSE; ACCEPTING.

[itadoriahh]

sick in the stomach, sick in the head

[forwrath]

"what matters is we never give up. we keep fighting." / from gojo for geto

morning breakfast wasn't always so melancholic. waking up to the person he had burrowed his affections in... his house and his home— to the family they've built and protected ferociously. hard fought, hard kept. but with the kids off to school and satoru off with them suguru had a moment to reminisce. to a time he felt small, his semblance akin to that to the very curses he ate. having lost faith in the institution he thought was made to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. seeing the mindlessness of a god's following. experiencing the vulgarity of witnessing a murder he was not strong enough to prevent. regrets could hold you ransom even in the cascade of comfortable life. (i am stronger now riko, there will never be another you. not while i can prevent it.) his ghosts were alive as his found family. a constant reminder of the mantra he embraced. forever radicalized against sorcerer hierarchy; a place getō suguru never belonged in.

as he often did, suguru sat at satoru's side. [taking a moment to observe the brightness to brilliant cerulean. the lack of smirk to his perfect lips, and the way he's attempting to amp them both up.] a routine that had become rarer in the days that had come after riko. & if he had to simplify their experiences... he'd be able to determine the "before" and "after" as two prolific memories. one fond, and a time when he believed in the good of the world. latter barring the dissection of a living being. the meager place they held beneath those that would seek to use them. to be a utensil for someone else's game.. a method of murder they'd be forced to swallow. what was the difference they had been making again—? suguru needed a reminder. now he felt like a garbage disposal. something to be used to eat the cosmic filth of the world he once took part in. now outside both worlds; horribly aware of the comings and goings of both. (an eater, they'd say.) self-ousted. paralyzed in self-enlightened horror. how could this be the way of the world? why were they made to accept it? to digest it just like the very curses he cleansed; gullet full of noxious acid. satoru speaks his piece about not giving up. trying in his own way to reign in the darkness that threatened to eat them both alive. little did the young god know it had already eaten up his partner from the inside out. corrupting the noble parts that had spoke of honour and respect. gnawing and crunching bones that wished for inelegant reprieve. each of his legs crushed beneath the crushing weight of loss. such strong shoulders could only carry so much before they too, bent beneath the heft of it. this was the moment suguru figured out that they could not make a change at each others side. not for the time being, anyway. both boys had learned to do their duty to their community. to abide the rules and keep their heads down. at least the lavender eyed third year did, fearing he'd have to explain himself or the encounter. his stomach churned maliciously. threatening another bout of overwhelming nausea. palms moving to clutch at his stomach now; frightful ill looking. but he hadn't tended to his appearances in weeks, something most of their peers had noticed.

❝ no. ❞ tenor scratchy, throat taut. ❝ i'm done fighting, satoru. ❞ shame kept his gaze downcast; away from the cure of precious one's own. ❝ —i can't do it anymore. this place! those people up there! what do they know anyway? you might be from this society but.... but i'm not. i can't sit back and let them do whatever they want while people die. our friends, or loved ones? ❞ a sob croaks through quiet yet deliberately intoned vocalization. ❝ you— ❞ long, lithe digit poises itself against satoru's chest; above his heart. ❝ you're not replaceable, they need you. ❞ incredibly soft in his accusation. love, loved and love lorn. ❝ but us? me? they are making me eat curses to death. i'll die like this satoru. i have to leave, to do something... ❞

maybe they were a cosmic joke. a laugh for beings far beyond them: passing or failing the test of composure and strength. giving those above a big fuck you as they made their own rules and own vows. un-tethered and unbound; unless it was to each other and their children.

[youledmehere]

and i know you hate the sight of me, i haunt you when you're fast asleep…

life of the spider (draft) // halsey

[teaitis]

🍁

[fordefy]

uncomfortable would be the understatement of the century right about now. lucretia had confidently strode into it, and he was a second too late to realise and warn her, running to try and pull her out of the way before it deployed. unfortunately for them the momentum only sealed the deal as they were caught and flung up high together in a net trap. which is where they now currently sway above ground.

❝ how much more trouble can i get into? ❞ @forwrath asks.

it's rhetorical really, but when has he ever kept quiet for half of those in his life? the positions they're in are awkward, starting to feel the strain. he keeps a trained eye on one of her heels that's currently far too close to his groin for comfort, already mentally preparing for a fate he prays doesn't come to pass. ❝ entirely depends on the choice you make next, i suppose. ❞

even though he can only see her in the corner of his eye, the scathing glower tells him everything: he’s on thin ice. and partly because she's embarrassed. it takes everything in him not to laugh, all he’d been taught, every lesson learnt, seemingly channeled into this very moment. but he does hide the smirk to himself.

❝ we’ve experienced far worse then this, ❞ thancred reassures her. ❝ and i always come prepared. i have a few daggers on me just for this kind of scenario. the problem is getting to them. ❞

[forwrath]

she groans audibly, well-sculpted brows knit. often the one to see a situation like this one coming the lightborne was wrought with distraction. the anticipation behind their next journey; leaving those they cared about behind. one could argue that lucretia, even in her distraction could detect a trap from a mile away. however, to her utter dismay not a whiff of the net held any warning. ❝ you know thancred, ❞ begins lucretia as she attempts to untangle her leg from being betwixt his own. subtle hum fleeing as the reaper is made to resist all frustration that may or may not inflame already brewing tensions. lithe, leather adorned digits digging creases into his fine white top. using the fabric as leverage to help her maneuver without causing much pain (if any) to either of them... now at a place where he could bear his gaze intently into those of haloed gold. ❝ sometimes inside thoughts are better kept just that, inside. ❞ smiling at him for effect, some threats were donned with kindness rather than the sharpness of a blade, or fangs in this case. tail swishes, as any miqo'te's would should they be trapped. etheric runes that spoke of a horrid curse bit angrily into sun-kissed dermis (a reminder of cthonic voidsent forever branded upon her soul) rubbed horribly against the coarse fiber of the net. adding to lucretia's agitation. somehow though, it is the grin on his woefully handsome features that makes her roll her eyes in annoyance. ❝ you're right about that. we have, and this won't keep us long.. to be sure. ❞ gaze darts down to his mouth as her palm moves along his stomach; stopping a moment as the force of the motion jostles the net. swaying them once, twice, thrice. luck always tended to be something lucretia had in troves. able to talk her way out of anything even if the culprit bored her to death. in this though, she saw a way to make thancred rue his smugness. letting them find a less tumultuous stillness before she began to move again. tufts of winter white likely splayed against his face as her palm moved lower, and lower still. tending to belt line before reaching to the very place she knew those daggers resided. realizing that she'd have to lean down to pluck them from their place a sculpted brow arches, curse fleeing full lips. such was another knot to be undone.

[knnedy]

leon hums, taking quick stock of the weather and how much lighter it’s become since, droplets of water trailing down the awning now to occasionally patter onto the ground instead of the heavy downpour from earlier. ❝ nope. ❞ there’s a small playfulness on the emphasis of the ‘p’. ❝ fortunately the rain's let up. likely won't be as bad on our way back now. ❞ with chris by his side again, leon naturally gravitates, the body heat he throws out a very welcome bonus—— even when he’s wearing a thermal and slacks, which needs to be scientifically studied. how the hell chris can go without getting so much as a sniffle while he coughs his guts out is just cruel.

not that he gets much time to muse over it. a small noise of surprise escapes at the bold and cheeky move, laughter lines crinkling. ❝ i’m already swooning. ❞ his tease is full of mirth, more than happy to give away his kiss —— and a thousand more if he wished —— to him like it’s on a silver platter. checking they have everything after they part, they start heading back the way they came, naturally falling into pace with each other.

❝ wait, i'm not a comedian already? ❞ leon shakes his head, feigning exasperation, not that he minds the soft verbal poke. not when his heart swells at the sound of chris’ laughter, joining in. it’s been a long time since he’s heard him laugh like that. he’s sorely missed it, but he knows why. romania hit hard. for every member of hound wolf present, ethan’s sacrifice deeply resonated with them all, but it was the worst for chris. it’s another failure marker, another good man lost, another ghost to haunt his every footfall. more guilt. he was the one who responded, taking them far away from the events of louisiana. he was the one who promised to see them safe from further terror and horror. he was the one who decided on the safe house in romania for them to move into for that fresh start, a new and quiet life—— until they found out they never could because it never did start.

leon knows chris blames himself. he also knows he can’t stop that, as much as he wishes he could. the tormenting cycle of what ifs and maybes and could haves. the nightmares. the anger. the grief. the need for distraction. the devotion to work. fighting against viruses and parasites, whether manufactured in a lab or older then man, there’s always an impossible factor. miranda had centuries to perfect her craft. no one could’ve known it was her. but it never makes the bitter pill any easier to swallow and deal with.

leon lightly bumps his shoulder against his: i got you. i'm here. ❝ business just as good? last time i heard his kids were picking out their colleges. did they get in? ❞

[forwrath]

he's there, like a constant warmth in the beckon of dimming recollection. slowly he's taken from his trauma's and brought back to the present; husband and pup at his side. they both have dealt with the cost of their actions: chris having felt the pang of loss of his partners. not just once either. it was a continuous year after year pang of guilt that would grow the more he wasn't able to save anyone. he was thankful for what he has now though. his life beyond his work, his team within work and those that he's come to care for in safety of a broader system. ❝ it wasn't that bad, was it? thought you would have experienced worse weather during your time in spain. ❞ he jokes right back, smile already growing on his lips. chris redfield had been born hardier than most. he was a mud playing, germ repelling kid who wasn't afraid to get dirty. he and claire had plenty of instances where the other kids would point and laugh at their chaotic enjoyment of the land. (that was a fond memory, something he's kept tenderly.) ❝ if you feel like you're already getting a scratch in your throat, don't worry. we have plenty of cold medicine stock piled from your last interaction with the rain. ❞

a laugh flees him know with a quake through muscled stature. firm palm placed to leon's lower back, leading them along as they began their walk back home. each kiss was another promise: i'll not be gone long, i'm always with you, you can depend on me, and lastly I love you. ❝ hey, you are. but this comedy act you've got going on right now is one I didn't know I had tickets to. ❞ they could be lame like this, two middle-aged men tossing quip after quip at each other. it was one of their love languages. as apart of who they were as the laughter that fled their lips after listening to the other's newest joke.

immeasurable was the loss of ethan winters.. his family and young daughter would be without him for the rest of their lives. & if chris could rewind time, he'd make sure he was more thorough with the entire operation. maybe there would have been away to bring ethan back from the brink of infection. maybe he wouldn't have had to die a martyr.. chris just had to do the work, he had to make sure that each base was properly covered. the truth being he was in a fight against his own organization. european and american branches of the B.S.A.A. fighting as the american branch grew greedy in the face of exposure. he should have worked harder so the winter's family could have that little piece of peace they coveted.

again, leon takes him back to the present. his palms flexing and releasing as a numbness dithered through them. inhaling once, exhaling slowly - doing this a few times before he was inhabiting his body and all of its functions. giving his husband a look that said he was okay now, that they didn't have to talk about it. even if eventually they'd have to talk about wolf hound squad's next mission. the closing of their life in quietude's village. normalcy tended to come to an end just before a storm. this time they'd have each other's backs & neither of them would have to go alone. (or wait at home anxiously enduring the nerves that came from time spent apart while a high level mission was in progress.) you'd think it'd get easier with both leon and chris working in similar fields; however, it never would. despite being a threat to the grim reaper themselves that luck could eventually come to an end; an end neither of them would want to see. this way with leon at his back, they'd have eyes everywhere. shoulder bump keeps them at the pace they started when their walk first began. no slowed drag of boots in the muck beneath their feet. it was steady without being rushed.

❝ yeah, yeah! he's so proud of them. both got into their first choice colleges. he's sad to see them go, but he's proud to see them succeed. ❞ kids were an interesting notion. neither leon or chris could with good conscious think about bringing a new life into the world. they knew the cost of their work, the cost of the future of the world. how bleak it could be despite the good people working within it.

[eymurn]

“i thought i’d weird you out” you weirded me in, twin

[forwrath]

❝ you’re doing great. i’m really proud of you. ❞ @ grace!

❝ you are? —i mean, thanks leon. ❞ unable to hide the surprise from tenor made raspy (both from screaming & thirst), equally unable to hold his mossy blue gaze. grace's body was mainly comprised of the items that crushed the air from her lungs. (fear, guilt, and ever present anxiety.) eventually though, it was replaced with the adrenaline needed to get them both to safety. leon wasn't doing so good, despite his dry candor, trying to look on the bright side for both of them.

& emily was... (her eyes stung with tears, heart heavy, palms already shaking.) [take a deep breath for me now grace. another, slower, another. you got this, honey.] so many times did that catastrophic situation run through her head. mourning, grief and failure. hitting her like a heavy hammer; defeating her. numbing any and all other sensations that might have kept her in fight or flight. again and again, how could she have prevented emily's death? just like her mom, she failed. ivories anxiously gnaw at the tender skin of her inner cheek, nails finding something to create crescents in; bringing her out of the replaying of that moment and back to @knnedy. a ritual grace enacted in college. the quietude helped her relax, a notion that she hadn't felt in days.

blurry, but growing in focus she forces a smile he'd know wasn't genuine. although grace wasn't doing it for him, she was doing it so she could keep the tears back. brows creasing, finding the knife she had dropped. grace nods, this time focusing on the reality of their current situation. he was proud of her for what she had managed to do in the surreal situation they've endured. he was proud of her for being able to figure out what was going on despite the throngs of infected coming at them. ❝ we still have a ways to go.. do you think you can hold on just a bit longer? ❞ not that either of them knew of the answer at their destination. it was just a bit she had learned to make each hour that much more bearable. leon's infection looked as if it was nearing its final stages, making him weaker; exhaustion riddled all over his features. despite this though, he made room for her. so grace would do the same for him, making sure they made.. that she found some way to help him through this.

[k-0re]

mom I'm scared

[yharnum-a]

10. fixing a piece of their clothing carefully. (arty @ gwyndolin

❖ nonverbal prompts, accepting.

their hands quietly shook. beneath the soft yet stern glare of the moon in their bed chambers, they demanded of their own person the utmost surety in a moment so fragile such as this. it was necessary if their bid for control was to succeed anyhow; yet this sharp discipline & squared shoulders felt foreign to them. they stifled the urge to resist it. to return to their canopy of dark quiet and books, to feign if just for a moment that the crumbling embers of the world had not been left in their hands, to wear the burden, or double it, in the crown they wore. it sat mirthlessly now over their bed. it was a miracle it did not sink to the bottom of the floor through the wood. as they straightened the silk gloves that guarded their scaled hands, his own were bare, amiss of armour for once.

he moved them gently to the clasp at the back of their neck, clipping it tightly to a close. a ribbon held together the fine tunic they had once been gifted by a dear sister. between their lips, they blew out a controlled exhale. unsure how they might have stomached this ordeal, this public presentation of order and new rule, if it were not for him.

❛  thine patience doth exceed all measure, kind lover— verily, without thee, the necessity of this burden would be for naught.  ❜

[forwrath]

whilst they shook from nerves, he became their anchor. sturdy and steady, knowing they would do for the realm what those before them couldn't. artorias believed in them, the good and righteous moon light that sung within their very veins. how gwyndolin had looked after the realm long before it was their duty. even in the absence of fatherly love, or affection were they studious to those that would inhabit anor londo. it felt much like preparing a knight for battle in a sense. as gwyn would have to face their people, those that may have had machinations against them too. to either forgive, or punish. they would never forget, and even if they did, artorias would not. he would inherit her rage, let it soak through his skin and manifest in his veins. for his love for gwyndolin was enough to inspire his own cruelty to those that would wish them harm.

❝ patience is all i have for @yharnum, my liege. paired with my love, my adoration and my blade. ❞ there is a quieter murmur now, one lacking formality. the knight commander knew gwyndolin was perfectly capable of taking care of themselves, but there existed a trust that could be taken advantage of. ❝ no harm will come to you while i am here. i promise you this; i will make them fear me as they should. for my heart is always entwined with yours, your wish my command. ❞ leaning down to press his forehead to theirs. a moment to linger, he'd not make them late with his heart felt affections. they knew what he would do to any who sought to harm them again. he'd show everyone so that there would be nothing to leave to imagination.

[notmorbid]

archive 81.

dialogue prompts from archive 81, a podcast by dead signals.

i heard a joke about lawyers once.

you know about me?

when you live with something a long time, you can become blind to it.

i don’t want to think about stuff like that anymore.

you’re really scaring me.

cut the bullshit. i don’t have the time.

we’re ants trying to understand the face of a god.

don’t you want to hear the end of the story?

i really admire your stoicism in the face of adversity, by the way.

i can’t imagine anything would scare you.

you’re the one person who actually seems to give a shit.

what did you see in me?

there are a surprising number of decent people in this horror story.

i’m not the grand villain in this story. sorry to disappoint.

no one is prepared for something like that.

you must have been a person once.

curiosity has its consequences.

information is a lovely gift.

you’ve kept me normal.

i’ve been waiting for you, you know.

have you ever loved someone so much that you’d do anything?

names are so important and powerful and frightening.

you’re a very bad patient, you know that?

you don’t exactly have the best bedside manner.

did you have good and safe and wonderful dreams?

you could tell me a story.

are you going to keep being weird?

i’m officially done with cryptic shit.

we’re safe now. alright?

tell it however you want to. it’s your story.

what’s your favorite album? or your favorite movie?

now you’re just being mean.

are you starting to remember?

sacrifice is the only currency anywhere.

don’t kill anyone without asking first.

you’re a pretty good hugger. i’m surprised.

you’re doing great. i’m really proud of you.

if there’s anything i’m good at, it’s making fun of rich people.

i have never once lied to you.

i don’t know if you’re good, but you’re a good friend.

[hollowprompts]

🤐 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 : 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴. 𝘯𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 (+ 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦) 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦.

🕊️ 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞

01. gently brushing the other's hair out of their face to tuck behind their ear. 02. wrapping a blanket around their shoulders from behind. 03. brushing tears off of their cheeks. 04. reaching out hesitantly before resting a hand on their back. 05. placing a cup of tea or coffee in front of them. 06. sitting beside them while they are asleep to watch over them. 07. sharing silence with them. 08. pulling them into a tight hug. 09. writing something quietly and passing them the note. 10. fixing a piece of their clothing carefully.

🔥 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

01. staring at them in silence for a long moment before walking away. 02. slamming a door shut without explanation. 03. packing their things up, slowly and deliberately. 04. breathing sharply through their nose and refusing to meet their eyes. 05. cleaning something obsessively in silence.

🥀 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

01. running their thumb over the others bottom lip slowly. 02. standing just a little too close, enough to feel each others breath. 03. grazing their knuckles along the other's hip or thigh in passing. 04. undoing the top button of their shirt while holding eye contact. 05. leaning in like they're going to kiss and then pausing shyly. 06. sliding a hand under their chin to tilt their head up.

[fordefy]

it has to be a redfield trait. there’s no other way he’d be out like this otherwise, bundled up to combat the cold when he was perfectly fine rotting on the sofa at home. this is what delivery apps were invented and made for—— even when the place is two minutes away. but chris is chris, and when his mind is set, almost nothing will change it. including the idea that getting some fresh air would be good for them while picking up their dinner for tonight, despite the weather forecast promising a hundred percent rain all day alongside the cold.

waiting outside under the restaurant’s awning to avoid a confrontation between nieves and some lady’s tiny feisty chihuahua in line, leon’s huff condenses in the air. ❝ trust the weather to be as gloomy as me, ❞ nieves chirps in answer while sitting pressed up to his leg, looking out at the heavy mist that’s settled on the sidewalk, hiding countless puddles after the downpour from earlier. taking a gloved hand out from his coat pocket, leon gives her an affectionate scratch behind a very fluffy white ear as they people watch. ❝ the things we do for the love of our favourite boulder puncher, huh. ❞ a small pause, and then admits. ❝ though just between us? this is one of his better ideas. ❞

the familiar chime of the door’s bell catches his attention and he turns to see @forwrath step out. for a second, leon catches a glimpse of concern as he looks for him—— and then the relief in the moment he spots him by his wave, giving him one of his softest smiles. he can’t help but melt, smiling back. ❝ hey, ❞ leon greets warmly, already coming over. nieves follows, standing between them. grabbing the brown paper bag full of cat and dog treats on the house for lucky and nieves first —— somehow they’ve both charmed the whole family business —— and rolling down the top, he bends down to hold it out for her to bite onto to carry home. standing back up, placing a peck on his cheek, leon takes half of their order off of chris’ hands to lighten the load. ❝ thanks for getting our order after i left. any longer and princess’ life is a bark outlook would’ve chihuahua. ❞

[forwrath]

a walk was good for the soul, especially when the body that housed said soul was restless. this time off, "vacation" they said was supposed to be relaxing. that he'd come back with a renewed sense of clarity for both his squad and those they were trying to help (& at times, eradicate.) so they'd endure the rain for the sake of filling their bellies. a night in, with a bit of out - not having to pay the delivery and get it themselves. a little rain never hurt anyone, right? chris was on the lucky side compared to his husband. unable to feel the cold, as he was currently wearing a black thermal and slacks. no coat, and only an umbrella that he shared with leon. he hadn't had to explain that his legs were restless, or that he needed a distraction. the odd domestic-ism they had been able to indulge during their time off was nice. he was able to help leon with his anxiety, help them both find a moment to breathe in and out deeply. to spend time with their pets, friends and found family. even though he'd be caught getting up at night to do research. it was hard to turn his mind off after the loss of ethan. knowing there was more he could have done for the man but was stuck behind the red tape of needing to save more than the few. a guilt that would stay with him, failing both mia and rose in the end. leon didn't let him hear the end of it either, he got his point across. they were not going to sacrifice people. (not that it was his intention, but his anger could have been directed in a healthier way when it came to further explanation.) after awhile of being in his head, he finally shakes it off. smiling at the clerk ringing him up at the register. chatting the other up, asking about the weather, his kids, and how business was these days. of course business was booming, the kids were in college now and the weather could always be better. moments like this helped chris to feel grounded in his body, the way he and leon had both fought for peaceful moments like this was what they deserved. if only he could get into the habit of not working.

thanking the chef for their food he waves warmly before making his way back outside. one arm wrapping around his shivering husband, and the other holding their food to his chest. ❝ hey, handsome. didn't get to soaked out here did you two? ❞ arm moves from around leon a moment to pet nieves lovingly. good girl. with half the order taken, he turns to steal a proper kiss. ❝ — not gonna let you get away that easy. ❞ listening to leon now, the joke eliciting a resounding laughter from his chest. unable to stop the way his head shook in reaction to it. ❝ let's get you back home before the rain turns you into a comedian. ❞

[promeheus]

the stoked fire makes wells of light in her eyes. the same undoubtedly lives inside his own pale characteristics. no matter where her thoughts leaned the light remained centered. they observe this and rebalance their now empty hand on one knee.

“ you did. ” echoing her seemed the safest course if only slightly disquieting for something inside of him. he begins to present but pauses when the rock abducts her expression from him, “ by understanding his humor.. ”.

he watches her quietly for a minute, counting the ticks internally. speaking becomes an invasive species at the change of a mood. verso peers into the heart of a fissure, mirroring and drawing a contrast between them with a thoughtful frown. “ i believe you'll figure it out. ”

“ you both, are more likeminded than you think. ” sounding less disembodied from his purpose.

[forwrath]

the notion of light within precise, near - interrogating optics would bring a smile to full tiers. a private observation. akin to a more than friendly intimacy. but wasn't that what had become of them? unfriendly intimacies and an exploration of character. an intensity that could dig, cloy and yearn. & how did it yearn. ❛❛ —hmpf. ❜❜ head tilts, wondering if this was a ploy to distract from his very countenance. to move critical optics from devouring him raw. ❛❛ while it hasn't always come naturally to me.. ones humour often can expose a lot about them. even if it is absent at times. ❜❜ this was pointed in his direction, sharp and unrelenting. the more words one spoke the more they could be vivisected and known. to be known is to have ties to those around you. while both might have been ghosts at some point in their lives now they knew what it was like for another to see their vulnerabilities. it wasn't always sweet, it didn't always feel good either. (a lot of the time it felt horrible, to be known in a way the other could hurt you.) ❛❛ so you say. but why are you so puzzled by it? ❜❜ stepping toward him now, pursuing his purpose. reaching to catch quizzical gaze and hold it to her own.