Today's Document
oozey mess
we're not kids anymore.
#extradirty
Love Begins
Cosimo Galluzzi
JVL
if i look back, i am lost
tumblr dot com
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occasionally subtle
izzy's playlists!
pixel skylines
Not today Justin
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Three Goblin Art
Sweet Seals For You, Always
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ojovivo
seen from Malaysia
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seen from United States
seen from Bolivia
seen from Bolivia
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
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@hightabled
# ᴴᴵᴳᴴᵀᴬᴮᴸᴱᴰ, an independent & selectively written i̲n̲t̲e̲r̲p̲r̲e̲t̲a̲t̲i̲o̲n̲ of THE MARQUIS DE GRAMONT of lionsgate's 𝘫𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘤𝘬 franchise. * 21+ only, please. primarily plot-oriented with fluctuating levels of activity.
¹ temp info. ² sideblog. ³ pinterest. ⁴ playlist tba.
During the filming of John Wick: Chapter 4, actor Bill Skarsgård portrayed the Marquis de Gramont thinking of him as someone who came from an impoverished background before rising through the High Table's ladder to achieve a high-ranking position that allows him to savor a wealth he didn't have before, hence his tendency to savor the glittery suits he wears in most of his scenes. Whether this backstory is canon or not is unknown.
asoiaf: a dance with dragons starters
❝ i fear i make you uneasy. ❞ ❝ knowledge is a weapon. arm yourself well before you ride forth to battle. ❞ ❝ go on. show your steel. give me cause to do the same. ❞ ❝ fear is what keeps a man alive in this world of treachery and deceit. ❞ ❝ these woods are not as empty as you think. ❞ ❝ promise me that you will never turn against me. i could not bear that. promise me. ❞ ❝ the only time a man can be brave is when he is afraid. ❞ ❝ if i must die, i will die with an axe in my hand and a curse upon my lips. ❞ ❝ tales are told of you. i hear them everywhere. people fear you. ❞ ❝ go too far down that road, and mistrust can poison you, make you sour and fearful. ❞ ❝ you mistake me. that was a command, not an offer. ❞ ❝ sorcery is a sword without a hilt. there is no safe way to grasp it. ❞ ❝ prophecy is like a half-trained mule. it looks like it might be useful, but the moment you trust in it, it kicks you in the head. ❞ ❝ it is not the foes who curse you to your face that you must fear, but those who smile when you are looking and sharpen their knives when you turn your back. ❞ ❝ i rose too high, loved too hard, dared too much. i tried to grasp a star, overreached, and fell. ❞ ❝ they think that this will break my pride, that it will make an end to me, but they are wrong. ❞ ❝ tell me of the things that make you happy, the things that make you giggle, all your sweetest memories. remind me that there is still good in the world. ❞ ❝ one war ends, another begins. there is always someone fighting someone somewhere. ❞ ❝ this is what i was made for. the dance, the sweet steel song, a sword in my hand and a foe before me. ❞ ❝ my enemies have told you i am dead. those tales are false, as you can see. ❞ ❝ not all that a man does is done for gain. ❞ ❝ i know that you believe me weak, frightened, feeble. ❞ ❝ it takes a man to rule. kill the boy, and let the man be born. ❞ ❝ do you mean to spend your whole life running away? ❞ ❝ kingdoms are at hazard here. our lives, our names, our honour. this is no game we’re playing for your amusement. ❞ ❝ however gentle the words, there are always darker motives underneath. i do not trust you. ❞ ❝ a good honest face, but you should smile more. ❞ ❝ my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. ❞ ❝ you are so radiant today i fear to look on you. ❞ ❝ prove yourself more trouble than you are worth, and you can go your own way. ❞ ❝ you need not look so pale, i was only playing with you. ❞ ❝ this is not the day i die, i promise you. ❞ ❝ i wanted you from the first time i saw you. ❞ ❝ was i so blind, or did i close my eyes willingly, so i would not see the price of power? ❞ ❝ men should not go wandering in this place. ❞ ❝ hold your tongue and do as you are told, or you will soon wish you had. ❞ ❝ you won’t try. you will obey. ❞ ❝ kneel and live. or go and die. it’s your choice to make. ❞ ❝ are you so blind, or is it that you do not wish to see? ❞ ❝ that is not a place you want to go to. ❞ ❝ i will not go back without doing what i came for, no matter how hopeless it may seem. ❞ ❝ the fairest woman in this world…i am drunk with the sight of you. ❞ ❝ secrets are worth more than silver and sapphires. ❞ ❝ we have come too far to turn back now. ❞ ❝ what have i done to make you hate me so? ❞ ❝ you meet so few men who value friendship over gold these days. ❞ ❝ it is true, i am a bolder man than most. ❞ ❝ i cannot go home. but i dare not stay here much longer. ❞ ❝ foes and false friends are all around me. ❞ ❝ the fewer folk who will know of this, the better. ❞ ❝ all you have i gave you. remember that. ❞ ❝ will you make me say it twice? go and do as i commanded you. ❞ ❝ love is madness, and lust is poison. ❞ ❝ i feel safe when i’m with you. ❞ ❝ have you no smile for me? am i as fearful as all that? ❞ ❝ why did i ever allow myself to be talked into this farce? ❞ ❝ don’t think i don’t see what you’re doing. ❞ ❝ i will tell you nothing. do me the same favor. ❞ ❝ if i look back i am lost. ❞ ❝ a crown should not sit easy on the head. ❞ ❝ we must show a little trust, you and i. ❞ ❝ trust only your companions, and do your best to avoid attracting notice. ❞ ❝ you’re not going to try to kill me again, i hope. ❞ ❝ if you will forgive me for saying so, you look…weary. are you sleeping? ❞ ❝ your clothes are stained with blood. take them off. ❞ ❝ every fool loves to hear that he’s important. ❞ ❝ my father used to tell me that a man must know his enemies. ❞ ❝ you are a harmless creature, to be sure. as innocent as a lamb. ❞ ❝ till then, let us drink and dream. ❞ ❝ you will be tempted to betray me. to run or fight or join our foes. i’ll not hear you deny it. ❞ ❝ soon enough you may have grave need of me. do not refuse my friendship. ❞ ❝ it is best that no man knows that you are here. ❞ ❝ i kill kings, haven’t you heard? ❞ ❝ should any ill befall you, this world would lose its savor. ❞ ❝ some will look at you and see only another doomed pretender. ❞ ❝ i think life is a jape. yours, mine, everyone’s. ❞ ❝ i will forgive those words…once. but never presume to threaten me again. ❞ ❝ your father would be so proud if he could see you. ❞ ❝ just once you might try to give me an answer that would please me. ❞ ❝ they love me well. none would betray me. ❞ ❝ i have sins enough to answer for; i’ll have no part of this one. ❞ ❝ i mean you no harm, you know. ❞ ❝ i do not trust you, but i need you. ❞ ❝ we’ll both sleep, and dream of sweeter days. close your eyes. ❞ ❝ since you ask so nicely, how can i deny you? ❞ ❝ no wine is half so intoxicating as your beauty. ❞ ❝ why should i beg for what is owed me? ❞ ❝ a lord may love the men he commands, but he cannot be a friend to them. ❞ ❝ let them try and trouble us, we’ll show them what we’re made of. ❞ ❝ a leader should be feared, by friend and foe alike. if men think me cruel, so much the better. ❞ ❝ the enemy of my friend is my enemy. ❞ ❝ a book can be as dangerous as a sword in the right hands. ❞ ❝ i am an old man, grown weary of this world and its treacheries. ❞ ❝ these are desperate days, and like to grow more desperate. ❞ ❝ we need to find shelter before nightfall. ❞ ❝ there are footsteps behind us. we are being followed. ❞ ❝ this is no common fog. it stinks of sorcery. ❞ ❝ i am glad you came to me. it is good to see you again, my friend. ❞ ❝ the man who does nothing also takes a risk. ❞ ❝ the women are the strong ones. ❞ ❝ afraid, are you? i would be if i were you. ❞ ❝ tell me a tale. some tale of valor with a happy ending. ❞ ❝ i’ll have a cup of wine as well. to clear my head. ❞ ❝ we may lose our heads, it’s true…but what if we prevail? ❞ ❝ keep your swords sharp. we’ll have us a real fight soon. ❞ ❝ this is going to end badly. ❞ ❝ what are you doing here? how did you get past my guards? ❞ ❝ it is so hard. to be strong. i don’t always know what i should do. ❞ ❝ let us instead speak of love, of dreams and desire. ❞ ❝ you wound me, wandering off like this. have you grown tired of my hospitality so soon? ❞ ❝ with this sword i defend my subjects and destroy those who menace them. ❞ ❝ it is too late for such misgivings. you made your choice. ❞ ❝ in times as confused as these, even men of honor must wonder where their duty lies. ❞ ❝ why? what did i ever do to you? ❞ ❝ we must be certain that we do not choose the losing side. ❞ ❝ dream sweet dreams. there are no monsters here. ❞ ❝ i know who you are. i know what you are. ❞ ❝ a little honest loathing might be refreshing, like a tart wine after too much sweet. ❞ ❝ a bloody sword is a beautiful thing. ❞ ❝ a ruler belongs to their people, not to themself. ❞ ❝ if the ones i killed come haunt me, i will kill them all again. ❞ ❝ you shine so brightly, you will blind every man who dares look upon you. ❞ ❝ a fair bargain leaves both sides unhappy, i’ve heard it said. ❞ ❝ there’s blood on your hands, aye, same as mine. ❞ ❝ i have done wicked things, i know, but i could not bear for you to hate me. ❞ ❝ it is good to see you smiling again. ❞ ❝ i have doubts enough without you throwing oil on the fire of my fear. ❞ ❝ blood pays for blood, a life for a life. ❞ ❝ go home, if that is what you want. i am staying. ❞ ❝ a man’d think there’s no trust between us. ❞ ❝ i would choose freedom over comfort every time. ❞ ❝ you are even lovelier than i was told. ❞ ❝ stay. i do not wish to be alone. ❞ ❝ treachery on treachery. is there no end to it? ❞ ❝ dreams and prophecies. why must they always be in riddles? ❞ ❝ one wrong word, and this could turn to blood in half a heartbeat. ❞ ❝ you lie. i can see the truth in your eyes. ❞ ❝ throw down your steel and stand aside, and no harm need come to you. ❞ ❝ you are supposed to be my friend. why must you mock my hopes? ❞ ❝ it is better to die with honor than to live without it. ❞ ❝ it does no good to brood on lost battles and roads not taken. ❞ ❝ i see you are deaf to sense. ❞ ❝ you are no better than me. we’re just the same. ❞ ❝ a man should never draw his sword unless he means to use it. ❞ ❝ you kill men for the wrongs they have done, not the wrongs that they may do someday. ❞ ❝ close your eyes. close your ears. turn away. you do not need to see this. ❞ ❝ the sooner we are gone from this place, the better. ❞ ❝ i am sorry my actions have displeased you. i did as i thought best. ❞ ❝ you do not need to trust a man to use him. ❞ ❝ if you cannot do this thing, you need only say so. there is no shame in that. ❞ ❝ never wound a foe when you can kill him. dead men don’t claim vengeance. ❞ ❝ this is what i wanted, what i worked for. so why does it taste so much like defeat? ❞ ❝ honest men should never need to hide their faces. ❞ ❝ i am not the trusting fool you take me for. ❞ ❝ men’s lives have meaning, not their deaths. ❞ ❝ he’s dead. he won’t bite. ❞ ❝ if this is the price for peace, i pay it willingly. ❞ ❝ it makes me wonder whose side you are on. ❞ ❝ dreams and prophecies. why must they always be in riddles? ❞ ❝ i will not say that you are welcome. nor will i deny that i have hoped that you might come. ❞ ❝ you have the eyes of a wolf and a taste for blood. ❞ ❝ men are mad and gods are madder. ❞ ❝ one war ends, another begins. there is always someone fighting someone somewhere. ❞ ❝ not all risks lead to ruin. ❞ ❝ is there some place with fewer eyes and ears? ❞ ❝ i need you now as i have never needed you before. ❞ ❝ tell me, is there any fight left in you? ❞ ❝ it was the wind that you heard screaming. ❞ ❝ crying? i was not crying. why would i cry? ❞ ❝ are you some butcher of the battlefield, hacking down every man who stands in your way? ❞ ❝ rain. a storm is coming. ❞ ❝ that was simple. simpler than i dared hope. simpler than it should have been. ❞ ❝ see that you do not speak of this. i’ll not have this tale spread. ❞ ❝ how could i be so blind for so long? ❞ ❝ you had a bad dream, that was all. ❞ ❝ are you prepared to defend that boast with sword or lance? ❞ ❝ i will do it. i said i would. i will. ❞ ❝ think that. believe that. tell yourself it’s true. ❞ ❝ you have more enemies than you know. ❞ ❝ i have no heart. i only have a hole. ❞ ❝ it has been too long since i’ve killed a man. ❞ ❝ words are wind. words cannot harm me. ❞ ❝ have you forgotten who i am? ❞ ❝ too many good men died that day. ❞ ❝ it is so good to see your face, your sweet face. ❞ ❝ it is still not too late to abandon this folly. ❞ ❝ i will not stay here to be insulted. ❞
thinking about why vincent acts the way he acts and how every action can be attributed to his upbringing and how he craves love and to be loved completely and how he equates that to possession and ownership but also how he is equal parts repulsed by love because he doesn't know what love Actually is and How it really feels when the feelings and attraction of others don't belong to him entirely and are shared amongst other people in said person's life and i am feeling Exactly like this at this present moment
vincent is so distinctly malewife that i am almost certain the term was coined after the release of john wick: chapter 4 (2023)
doomprep.tumblr.com ﹐ “i promise. i know i can still make peace. i know it.” [an independent writing blog for ᴶᴬᴷᴱ ᴼᵀᵀᴼ of amc's F̲E̲A̲R̲ᵀᴴᴱ ᵂᴬᴸᴷᴵᴺᴳ ᴰᴱᴬᴰ.] first established in 2017, remade in 2023. promo idea credit.
what happened to hello? how are you? my name is?
okay im not ready to return here my brain is still just.. completely empty but i'm working on some new verses and new ways to explore and inspire some fresh content for vincent behind the scenes. that being said, i have deleted everything in my askbox and also plan to delete most of my drafts and start completely over. thanks for ur endless patience, ur all the best!
@redruins: 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨.
to be a man is to be of a predictable nature, is literatim to that of their vice. the marquis knew this well, his fingers dipped into the foreseeable leaving none of his actions to chance: he was blessed in that manner, able to almost always accurately estimate the desires of other men, even those who did not wear it so patently as some of their more insensible peers. it gave him a lot to tamper with, to manipulate to his doing. he had versed himself in analogy, able to sequester the workings of men into three distinct categories: sex, sports, savagery. and not necessarily by verbatim, i.e. sporting did not necessarily require bat and ball, but more so the contentious nature of competing, in either body or brain or simple possession, in that that senseless, needless desire to prove one's worth over another. sometimes the marquis drew it purposely out of them for fun, presenting his own proprietorship in order to blindly belittle them, though he didn't really care for material objects at all besides the symbol it created. it made him important in the eyes of others, grandiose in its appeal, and that was what really mattered in a world of gluttony and gold.
"you do, hm?" he drawls, tone bordering on half-bored though his attention is piqued. even if she is wrong in her predictions, it's the game that truly fascinates: accuracy or inaccuracy revels in materialising mystique, fragments of her own inner workings passed through a guessing game. he wonders if she knows that her participation reveals more of her than it does him, parting with predictions that cast illumination onto her own foibles: all projections came from experience, all experience assembles assumption. and vincent, above most things, was enigmatic, holding no value to piece or person in order to remain an adamantine figure among them. vincent liked to know what she thought, what she thought he thought, an absent smile turning up the corners of his mouth in anticipation. "and what is that?"
satisfaction curves into the edge of her lip, sharp against her flesh. digging into the apple of her cheek, carving out a dimple, hollowing into the breaks in silence that shatter with every sputter of his. he sucks breath back into lungs, inhaling deprivation of a different kind: his every move remaining hers, despite the hands gone and touches absent. she tugs him one way, then another, and leaves him dangling on a leash that he desperately brings back to her. begging for another bone. bending himself backwards, for the briefest amount of praise. ( vincent plays himself as god, with his soldiers, reverential. he spreads blood, brutality, blame ... and then comes home to her, scattering supremacy into the wind; swallowing her sainthood down like a man, possessed. pecking orders be damned, mari dai cares little for who he is outside of these doors. even lesser, for who he pretends to be. he's a puppeteer, tired of holding his own strings, pressing himself into a power that tries to compete, and can't. he's an expanse of emptiness, waiting to be filled, and she's a woman who has always loved her fair share of excess. nothing she does, is for a lack of control. these days, she finds, she lacks nothing at all. ) he only proves her beliefs in a statement, as factual as all the rest. honest, like the heart-pumping, hollow-hound he proves himself to be. he drags his demons to her doorstep, digging himself into a grave he calls home, and plays house with the darkness she presents herself as. it's only fair, she thinks, that she plays right back.
any trace of quick movement has faded. she prowls through her home like a predator, purring like a kitten, and pursuing prey that pushes at her patience. one of these days, it may snap. though, today, it's a steady stream of satiation, falling to her feet like the rest of the presents he presents to her. ( who else gets him like this? who else guts him like a fish, with him still swimming up her stream in the aftermath? he'll drop a body, she'll drop two more. he'll play petty, she'll get personal. he steps forward, she's three steps ahead. he's hers, she's his, and she'll cease her fire when he stops cocking his aim. easy way or hard way alike, she's sunk into her lethal lecture of the week, and none of his gifts release him from god's gory grasp. whether he's learned that or not, is yet to be seen. ) she retrieves a bottle of tequila from her refrigerator, nudging the door shut with a hip and maneuvering her way to two glasses, instead of one: a peace offering, if he's paying attention. ' s — sounds like you chose a self-sabotaging gift to give, then. shame. ' she drawls, unsympathetic, as her focus sets on the task at hand. the cork pops, liquor filling one, and then the other. her gaze lifts as her pour ceases, peering through a half-lidded stare. relaxed, as if the moment previous hadn't shown a glimpse of rage.
there's a pause, her hand resting along the grasp of the bottle in hand for a moment, before shifting to edge one of the glasses into her palm. a smirk twitches upward, stare dragging over him slowly. as if he's been stripped raw, and she's judging whether or not he's realized what she has. she leans herself against the kitchen island, an elbow propping up the arm that raises a drink to her lips. a swallow, setting back down the drink. ' if anyone should be saying thank you, ' there's a pointed nod, before her chin rests into her palm. a grin bears itself, smug as ever. ' it's you. ' she clicks her tongue against her cheek thoughtfully. ' so, unless that's a g — gun in your pocket ... i'd say you're more than happy enough to spare some gratitude for th — that gift in your pants i gave you. '
blood floods to the shape of her fingers, a pretty imprint against his neck that claimed a certain sense of ownership over him: the collar tightens as it is pulled, owners wrestling pets into stupefied states and bringing them to heel. vincent is no different, compelled into submission with the sheer strength issued through a closed hand. a current of phosphenes continue to dot his vision as he attempts to blink himself back awake, incalculable black circuits that permeate the bleary image of her silhouette that position him partway between consciousness and oblivion. in that liminal space morphs a realm of indecipherable ambiguity, a tableau of soft shapes and indistinct features: boundaries between self and dream state blur into one, and mari dai was nothing short of a nightmare, a satanic shadow cast over a paralytic stasis and he cannot move. but in tandem with fear does intrigue rouse: it was no secret to vincent that he was made wrong, or perhaps, shaped wrong, longing for shades of darkness just as deeply as light. (vincent would never be content inside a customary relationship, the trappings of monogamy a dire fate when shared with someone who could not oppose him with the same quantity of toxicity.) it was not a request but a requirement, the need for proportionate opposition coursed through him like a possession.
and she offers it without question, digging blunt nails between the space where tendon threads and muscles meet: it's a testament to their relationship's uncertainty, pushing the boundaries just to see how far they bend in her favour. but vincent doesn't cower, doesn't fold, the forgiving fists enclosed around her clothing returning a testament to recipience over expected resilience. (vincent could have challenged her with an act of his own, but doesn't, accepting his fate as it charges his throat in contention.) his chest heaves in gratitude at the sudden mercy she issues him, hands pressed against his thighs as he chases back his breath.
eventually he sits back, casting his head over the top of armchair as he watches her out of peripheral vision. mari alludes to the prompted response with a nudge of her gaze, and he feels little shame regarding the sheer carnality of it. "thank you?" vincent scoffs, modifying the inflexible fabric of his trousers that suddenly felt much too tight against his skin, and thus adjusting abridged angularity enough to be comfortable. "why? you're not doing anything about it." truthfully, it's a noncommittal coquetry: his proposition rather empty as the almost forgotten corpse at their feet continues to cool, stamina already spent. vincent slowly regains his composure, pushing to his feet and visibly teetering, before taking slow strides towards the glass presented that he had heard before he had seen, the finer details of the room gradually materialising before him in the wakelessness that he continued to grapple with.
Bill Skarsgård as the Marquis in JOHN WICK: CHAPTER 4 dir. Chad Stahelski
mini hiatus! this was inevitable really. i have my final deadline for university coming up so i'm super duper stressed out/more anxious than usual tehe and i feel like it's quickly bleeding into my ooc content. i'm going to be deleting the app from my phone and ipad to force myself to keep off dash and not get distracted because my thesis takes utmost priority rn. as well as this, i'll be turning off my discord notifications and opening the app as and when i have a free moment. thanks to all who have been so patient with me lately. i'll catch you guys in... a little under two weeks i guess. wish me luck! ❤️
canon vincent pic
PROMPTS FROM JOHN WICK * assorted dialogue from the 2014 film
in that moment, i received some semblance of hope.
i can do this! please!
just checking up on an old friend.
i have a job for you.
they sure as fuck broke the mold with you.
be seeing you.
everything's got a price.
do i look civilized to you?
you look good. and here i'd feared you'd left this all behind.
how many do you have?
i've got that covered.
what are you really doing here?
get the fuck out of my sight.
i'll leave you be.
you've broken the rules.
i'd like to talk with him.
treat all your ladies like this?
i look retired.
you've lost weight.
noise complaint?
have you thought this through?
i'm not telling you shit.
people don't change. you know that.
how much for the car?
there's no rhyme or reason to this life.
where the fuck are you?
it was good. far better than i deserved.
we are cursed, you and i.
how may i be of service?
i'm sorry i can't be there for you.
are you here on business?
yeah. everything's fine.
don't blame yourself.
i'm sorry. my condolences.
to what do i owe the pleasure?
do you really wanna die here?
i once saw them kill three men in a bar with a pencil.
we live by a code.
i gave you an impossible task.
now that i have found my peace, find yours.
i know what you're thinking.
it's been a while. my condolences.
i can make this right.
they knew you're coming.
how do you plan that?
everything all right?
do you need anything for the pain?
so tell me, how was life on the other side?
it seems to be fate, or happenstance, or just bad fucking luck caused our paths to cross once again.
why don't you take the night off?
i'll leave you to it, then.
may i suggest a drink? bourbon, perhaps?
do you think you can scare me into opening this gate?
it's okay. let's go home.
my apologies. i was dealing with an uninvited guest.
you got out once.
people keep asking if i'm back and i haven't really had an answer.
who? that fucking nobody?
it won't matter.
so what sort of movement am i looking at?
you look terrible.
is the doctor in?
i apologize for calling you at this hour.
that's unwise, i assure you.
we were professionals. civilized.
you stole my car, and you killed my dog.
you working again?
i'll have to get back to you.
how good is your laundry?
you dip so much as a pinky back into this pond, you may well find something reaches out... and drags you back into its depths.
you will do nothing, because you can do nothing.
my god! how long has it been? four years?
i thought i'd let myself in.
are you scared of the fucking boogeyman? i'm not.
do i know you?
i'd like to make a dinner reservation for twelve.
tie. for your muse to adjust an article of clothing on my muse. @cryp7s, carlisle cullen.
carlisle had always been a fixer, in life and then in death all the more. he was something of a philanthropist, forever drawn to the tending of others in surplus. (even those who he didn't particularly like, vincent notes.) he carries an ethereal grace as his fingers rise to right his foe's tie, dermis pale as an angel's wing and vincent almost cowers at his holiness: as though his skin would singe at his sacred touch. below him, carlisle's fingers moved with a gentle reverence, tending to the details that he could not muster the patience for, his mind a dark cavern that did not harbour qualities such as patience or restraint within its midst. vincent's jawbone juts slightly outward, lengthening the inches between them in his pomposity, setting himself higher than his company. from this angle, however, he cannot help but admire carlisle, his rather aloof expression concealing both his attraction and revulsion for the shades of amber that glittered beneath the candlelight: his irises were pure gold halations that housed black pupils and defied vampirism in the very nature of their being. but vincent couldn't deny that they weren't utterly striking, own rubies travelling over carlisle's complexion with a sudden intrigue, as if only really appreciating his elegance for the first time. (their morals were stark in contrast, two paths veering away from one another, concluding only in light and dark.) but if only for a moment, vincent could almost forget their differences, the enchantment of his dexterous fingers and the draw of his magnetic mouth that the former knows that he could not recall the words spoken by carlisle in that moment if he tried. creatures like them didn't get nervous, but vincent suddenly finds that he does not know what to do with his own hands, his futile fingers hang motionlessly at his side until he decides to pick them up and smooth out the other's collar, as though there was anything wrong with it to fix in the first place.
"a picture of innocence.." he mumbles, admiring the ivory shirt beneath his fingers and the way that it sits impeccably across the other's torso. his comment makes the air thick with disdain, infused with a longing that refused to be extinguished no matter how many times they found themselves tangled within one another. the colours of their souls clashed in the most violent incompatibility, and yet they discover themselves in each other's quarters, time and time again. vincent smirks, his thumb stroking down the length of the other's tie before tugging. "petit chérubin. do you really think you could fix us, hm? fix me?"
throat. for your muse to hold something against my muse’s throat. nikita mears, @exdiv.
vincent can't say he is surprised by her venture too much, the danger that flickers inside her methods of magnetism was an impossible thing to ignore but his heart races nonetheless, a threat to his life never anything besides gripping. his bravado persists in spite of what her action promises him: a swift and silent retribution. (if not today, some day). their gazes lock in a battle of wills, a conceited smirk unfurling against his complexion that is nothing but self-assured. if his eyes could communicate, he'd be quietly reminding her that no business is to be conducted on continental grounds, but it moves unspoken through the composure of twin emeralds that refuse to blink under the weight of her own. if anything, he is amused by it. there's a certain intimacy shared through the edge of a knife: his skin caves where the point meets pulse, throbbing against the tip with strange exhilaration. it is tantalising, the vulnerability borne in the face of her lethal prowess burned into his neck, and yet, vincent wears indifference like the marquis is not a man at all, but comprised of something larger, something of a god. untouchable unkillable. his head cants back, dissecting her instead through hooded eyelids, intoxicated by the sheer precarity of their situation.
"this wasn't the soirée i had in mind when i invited you up here." the calmness in which the words are purred defies all logic, a fixed arrogance unmoved by the blade nuzzling his neck: a kiss of steel sending a chill through him that doesn't quite feel like lust or loathing. the marquis leans forward slightly, the contact with the knife deepening until the patch of skin surrounding it turned bone-white with the pressure, ready to empty his blood all over his ivory shirt if he deemed it necessary. he could certainly be petty if he really wanted to be. "if you are going to hold a knife to me, you better at least cut me with it."
web weaving for my oc, Mouth
DRIP, Crywolf / Where it Begins, Erica Jong / Crush, Richard Siken / Postcolonial Love Poems, Natalie Diaz / No Good Bloodsuckers, Emma Rebholz / Blythe Baird / Breezeblocks, alt-j / Zura.hell / dogperson, @sloppjockey / The Hour of The Star, Clarice Lispector / As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks 1964-1980, Susan Sontag
