š° š¶š°š¼š±š»š“ šøš½ : uneasy acceptance, longing for the old days, taking the blame, the king of hearts && ace of spades, responsibility by the wronged, drinking yourself dry, && losing the ability to love.
ā. šššš š½ššš šš 18+. If you are under 18, please see yourself out until you're of age. I've been RP'ing since I was eleven, I know how much it sucks to be restricted by your age, but your safety and my safety are more important than that. Any minors following will be hard-blocked - do not send messages, asks, or anything else.
ā. šššššššš š¼ššæ šš¼šš. Due to the nature of H.azbi.n and the extended Hel.lavers.e, I expect anyone following to be at least okay with subject matter like blood, injuries, illness, violence, weaponry, swearing, occasional derogatory language, and suggestive content - these in their most basic forms ( a cold, a nosebleed, someone throwing a punch ) will not be tagged as they come up. Explicit sexual content (aka, any smut) will be tagged and put under a read more. If you have any tagging requests outside of these (eyestrain, phobias, etc), let me know and I'll do my best!
ā. šš¾ š¼ššæ š¾š¼ššš. As someone with too many OC's, I know how important OC and canon interactions can be! If your character has history with Husk, I do ask that you ask or plot with me before inferring they know each other or have said history. Chances are, I'm cool with it, but I do reserve the right to deny any dynamics as I see fit.
ā. ššš½ššššššš š¼ššæ ššššššššš. I'm not super huge on reblog karma with prompts, but it can be nice sometimes! Just use basic courtesy - reblog from the source if it's possible, don't use me as a resource blog, etc. All graphics are made by me and my current PSD is a blend also by me.
Ā Ā JOUER CARTES SUR TABLE. Husk takes his offer and Vox is all too eager to follow through with his bluff, decor set to gentle jazz blues as he pulls and pushes with graceful ease. One step, and he's far; another step, and he has decided what he needs to say, and Vox's eyes become as devilish as his grin.
Ā Ā He wraps their fingers up and ties a bow with a firm squeeze shared between them. He whispers,ćI won't owe you anything after this.ć
Ā Ā He snugs the fuzzy face tight against this chest; bits of his turtleneck are frayed now, like the scraps he gets into when he runs his mouth too far. Media doesn't always hit the mark. You learn when your words overstep, but only after you've had a headline made about you; a painful closed fist, or a bitter set of words.
Ā Ā ćHow many people let you take this role?ć Ā He asks, fingers skittering up and down his shoulders before his palm settles flat against his back again. Ā ćYou knowā the girly one.ć Ā He says it like a purr, or a promise, or something sweeter than the insult it is, or rather a window into the premise he's cooked behind his eyes; Vox wouldn't be caught dead with the girly one. Vox is the one playing as a man.
Ā Ā ćIt's nice to be directed, isn't it?ćĀ A slight pause in their steps, then Vox bumps the edge of his head to Husk's temple. Ā ćBut you've got a firm hand. I don't think you'd let me get away with dipping you.ć
