to the ashes.

[smokeblooded-blog1]

clandestinesque:

               “Then that’s reason enough.” He’s happy to accept the simplicity of the answer, much the same as he’s willing to accept the simplicity of this meeting altogether. No airs and graces. No offense taken to his subordinate’s casual little display as the officer himself shifts to his feet; ah, only people they are indeed, when it comes down to it. He drains the last from his dying cigarette as he steps neatly around and aside to follow the other man’s lead of snuffing out and tossing that finished smoke away.

                 “Yes…milder things do seem to be more your element,” Lilium quietly agrees, small frame sinking back to the edge of his seat–elbows to his knees, fingers laced beneath the point of his chin once more. “No short amount of time then. It’s been coming up to almost twenty years of the habit for myself.” The laughter punctuating his answer is brief, drawling but rich. “Seems if nothing else, our opinions on smoking as a vice are one and the same. Neither of us is in much of a hurry to put a stop to it. That being said…I prefer smoking as a vice as opposed to drinking. That’s one vice in particular I am happy with or without.”

   Jean, in truth, has always taken simplicity upon his interests. That said, it

     was rather ironic how he took smoking as a particular hobby, especially

     considering how shocking it was to see individuals with cigarettes. In truth,

     he only got them because of favors and the like, but that didn’t make them

     anymore desirable to him. The fancy ones were nice, but nothing that he

     would bend over backwards to gain.

   “So you noticed?” he responds in some form of extremely light teasing, his

     expression light but overall unchanging for the most part. The mention of

     how long he’s been smoking is rather, well, depressing for Jean but he does

     prefer to keep such sentiments to himself in this particular situation. He had

     started smoking as a coping method when his parents passed, since he

     hadn’t wanted to become a distraction while his sister was still young. It

     was rather sad, really. “I...don’t drink much. I try not to.” Only with Niino is

     it for pastime.

[smokeblooded-blog1]

So like... I know you're going through some stuff but I'm love. I have no idea what this muse is abt all I know is I want him to stop smoking because that shit's bad for ya health. bUT YOU YOURSELF ARE SUPER NICE AND WONDERFUL and I hope whatever endeavors you're on go well and that things look up for you! I'm happy to still see you around tbh you did me a worry with your silence but yes hi I hope you're havin a good day goodbye

✫–

     (dw......i want him to stop smoking too before he dies hes like 30 and he smokes like 80 cigarettes an episode lkasjfg. but aaa.......thank u i mean im not happy that i worried u but im also happy u were concerned enough / cared enough to worry about me in the first place. i lov u i really need to talk to u more bc i do genuinely enjoy speaking to u im just the worst. thank u even tho i liked ur post for u to send in love bc u didnt have to send it. i lov u.)

[adventuringangel]

are you city lights or star lights? dandelion fluffs or wishing wells? ocean breezes or warm fires? art galleries or big libraries? polaroid pictures or record players? antique shops or small cafes? hot chocolate or iced tea?

[smokeblooded-blog1]

spyblooded:

  It had taken all his willpower to stay away for so long. He had spent all his life 

  making sacrifices, yet not one of those had been as hard as being apart from 

  his dear friend, who he had cared for and loved for so many years. He wouldn’t

  have gone anywhere if it were his choice, but he had made a mistake (more than

  one, actually) and the only way to make up for it was to obey the orders of 

  backing away.

  The original plans hadn’t included his return, but he’s useless without Jean. It’s

  always been that way. There was no way on earth he would be able to continue

  living his life without him in it (what was his life if not Jean himself, after all?

  Didn’t he already take bullets for him once? Wouldn’t he do it again if needed?)

  So, several years later, after all his affairs with the Dõwã royal family were done,

  he decided to go back to Bādon.

  He was nervous when he decided to wait for Jean in his own house instead of

  contacting him to meet him somewhere else. It had been five years, in which

  Jean hadn’t even been aware of whether Niino was still alive or not. It would 

  make perfect sense if he hated him now, or if he wanted nothing to do with him

  anymore. Thinking of all these possibilities as he waited for Jean to arrive made

  his bones ache, but all the pain and uncertainty disappeared the moment he saw

  his face again, a smile immediately taking over his features.

  “Jean.” The name felt foreign in his mouth due to the amount of time without

  pronouncing it, yet the burning sensation in his chest was similar to that of 

  coming back home after being away for long. That was exactly what he was 

  doing. “I’ve been… Busy. But I’m here now.”

   In this moment, Jean’s felt far more shock than he’s felt in his entire thirty-

     five years of life. He’d thought that Niino was never coming back, but he’d

     never come to terms with it. Not really, anyway. It had just become easier to

     ignore but, admittedly, he had cried about it. He never admitted that to 

     anyone, not even Lotta, but Jean had a feeling that she knew. She wasn’t

     stupid, after all.

   The thing that was getting to Jean the most was the absolute casual nature

     behind Niino’s greeting. That couldn’t possibly be it, not from the Niino that

     Jean knew and grew up with. This was different. Taking some quick steps

     forward, uniform jacket becoming disheveled in the process, Jean grabs at

     his collar with shaking hands, teeth grit hard together. Despite the fact that

     the emotion on his features is lacking, Jean still shows so much more than

     he ever has.

   “For five years!?” comes his slightly raised tone, resisting the urge to cry

     again (he hates that, even in front of Niino or Lotta), to hug him, to lay on

     top of him and never get up again. He’s resisting everything except this just

     in case it’s some kind of sick joke.

[smokeblooded-blog1]

spyblooded:

    There doesn’t have to be a reason, he knew that even before asking. Yet, hearing 

    it from Jean himself gives him an unexpected feeling he can’t quite explain. It could 

    be relief - hearing Jean say so directly that he always wants him close is nothing 

    but satisfying. But there is more he’s feeling that he can’t put into words.

    He smiles softly, eyes looking at his own feet as the tidy brushes them when it 

    rises up slightly. It’s not a secret that he is, too, closer to Jean and Lotta than to 

    anyone else, but he’s sure it’s entirely different to him than it is to them. Their 

    circumstances have never been the same from the moment they were born, but 

    that doesn’t change the fact that no one is as important to him as those two. “Of 

    course you always want me around you. You’re pretty useless without me.” He’s 

    teasing, of course. He knows perfectly well that he’s the one that can’t function 

    without the other. 

    Although they have in common that they’re each other’s closest person, he is aware 

    that it’s likely Jean doesn’t see him the same way he does. Not that it’s ever bothered 

    him - he’s content with being by his side and watching over him - but he’s still curious 

    what exactly he is to his friend. “Do you consider me family, Jean?”

   There was some sort of difference in atmosphere now that they were here,

     and Jean admittedly wondered what it was. There was something with Niino

     that the other wasn’t telling him, something that Jean wasn’t able to read.

     Had he perhaps been oblivious to his friend all along in the same way that

     he had before Lilium had dropped hints in reference to Niino watching him?

   Some sort of breathy laugh comes from Jean, a sound that was rare from

     the golden haired male, but was still a pleasant joy regardless. “And don’t

     you say that you’re pretty useless without me too?” comes his words,

     although he doesn’t deny Niino’s words. Perhaps he is useless without

     Niino too.

   His question surprises Jean though. Family? Well..that just didn’t seem

     right. He felt extreme closeness, some form of intimacy more often than

     not, but that certainly didn’t mean family did it? “...I don’t think so. I don’t

     mean that in a bad way, either.”

[smokeblooded-blog1]

spyblooded:

  The sudden increase in the proximity takes him by surprise, though it’s 

  everything but unpleasant. He’s unaware, however, of whether Jean would 

  behave like this or not had his blood not been mixed with alcohol at the moment. 

  It’s a weird sensation. Conflicting, even, for he wants to get as close as possible, 

  but doesn’t want his friend to feel embarrassed once he’s sobered up.

  Looking at the warm expression in Jean’s face makes him feel all cosy inside. 

  Nothing feels more like home than being close to him, especially this close. He 

  smiles, mostly to himself, and switches slightly to a position where his companion’s 

  head is closer to his chest before pulling him a little bit closer. “Good. I hope you 

  keep that promise.”

   Jean is drunk, but he’s not often different in opinion drunk or sober. In fact,

     honest words just come out more honest when he’s drunk, but one couldn’t

     exactly blame Niino for his doubts. Still, Niino feels warm (at least right

     now) and Jean wants to be close to him. His brain is fuzzy, but he feels no

     urge to stop it anyway.

   Jean nuzzles at his chest without even being coherent of it. It was perhaps

     just natural reaction, but he had done it. He’s comfortable in Niino’s lap, so

     another smile is thrown up at him from his position. “I’m not telling you that

     just because I’m drunk, you know? Of course I plan to keep it.”

[smokeblooded-blog1]

spyblooded:

  Niino can’t help but chuckle at his lover’s words. “Would you, really?” He asks,

  now genuinely curious. “Isn’t that a bit too corny for you?” Although he asks that 

  out loud, deep inside he knows very well that his emotions would be all over the

  place if Jean did, considering that the mere thought of it seems to be more than

  enough to set his heart aflame.

  The walk to Jean’s place isn’t very long, yet it still gives time for him to get lost

  more than once staring at his companion. There was something about the 

  lighting (or the lack of it) of the scenery that made him wish the walk was even

  shorter, but in the meanwhile, he takes comfort in solely watching as a hand 

  extended to hold the other’s.

  The smile that has been drawn in his face the whole time just widens as a

  response to his question. Evidently, he’s teasing, but Niino wonders if he’s

  aware that there’s actually no lie in the statement.

  “I do take other photos, though I gotta admit they’re not half as many as the

  ones I take of you.” He says. “But that’s only because you are, indeed, my 

  muse. I thought it was pretty obvious.”

   “I might cringe a little, I can’t lie. I like spending time with you though..so

     it’d be worth it.” Of course Jean likes spending time with him. It wasn’t a

     brand new concept. Still, he felt the urge to say it, his soft tone slightly

     teasing underneath every syllable. He can’t help but be so much more open

     with Niino. It’s easier.

   Jean’s fingers hold onto Niino’s in a soft way, but definitely not

     disinterested. He’s holding back really, because if he wasn’t he would be

     squeezing with all of his might, all of his love, and all of his desire for Niino

     to stay there with him.

   After Niino’s words, Jean stops to look at him and it’s a long, quiet moment.

     He doesn’t say anything, so he hopes Niino isn’t uncomfortable (though he

     doubts it), but the loving look in his eyes must convey what he isn’t saying

     well enough. He had always been a man of action far more than words. An

     example; he wants to kiss Niino right then.

     “Want to come to my house this time? Lotta’s probably sleeping.”

[smokeblooded-blog1]

clandestinesque:

            “Happy enough with the more modest version of the luxury?” A rarity in itself, that concept, but not one that finds itself sounding strange, coming from a man quite like Jean. In a world oftentimes overwhelmed with greed, seeing someone settle happily for that little bit less is almost a refreshing sentiment. “I suppose I can’t say I find that to be a shock. You never really appealed to me as being a man of much excess, Jean.” A good way to be, perhaps. In a way Lilium and his ideals of grandeur are a little beyond understanding. Another low, tuneful hum dawns in the officer’s throat, cigarette touched once more to his parted mouth (not long until his current smoke will be finished altogether; he intends to make the most of it while it lasts.)

               “Strawberry,” he echoes in a thin whorl of smoke, “that type of tobacco is available at least. Black cherry has always been one of few personal favourites of mine. Though, Dokha is the more usual choice in tobacco among the people from Furawau. ” A loose shrug of those thin shoulders, head turning to better look at the man sat beside. Another question springs to mind that Lilium is inclined to ask. “How many years have you been smoking by now, anyway…?”

   “It appeals to me,” is his simple, even response before glancing at the plain

     cigarette between his fingers. He places it back in his mouth before relaxing

     in the seat opposite of Lilium. Most people would perhaps seen such an

     action as appalling, but Jean had given his salute, had given his respect,

     and that was enough in his eyes. There was no need for excess; they were

     just people.

   Inhaling the final breath of his cigarette, Jean places said cigarette in the

     nearby trashcan after making sure the sparks were put out. He already feels

     the urge to grab at another, but temporarily restrains himself for now. He’ll

     take one when he departs. “Black cherry is...too sharp for me,” he muse,

     though he’s not surprised by Lilium’s interest in the flavor. It suits him.

     “I’d say...about twelve years now.”

[smokeblooded-blog1]

spyblooded:

While it is true that he was usually not exactly what one would call a happy drunk, 

it is also undeniable that, under the influence of alcohol or not, it’s generally hard 

for him to refrain from smiling whenever he’s with Jean. 

Now that he made the mistake of letting himself drink too much, it’s harder than 

ever to try and make the other’s effects on him go unnoticed. This is why usually 

he sticks to just pouring the liquid on Jean’s glass - it’s easier to hide your 

emotions (and at the same time be as self-indulgent as you could possibly be) 

when it is your companion and not you the one that has let the guards down. 

It’s unknown to him, however, what exactly Jean had meant when he said the 

words that had him smiling like this, but even then, they were more than enough 

to make his heart rate increase. He responds to Jean’s question with just one look 

and a squeeze of a hand, the smile not disappearing from his lips all the while.

   It’s uncommon in every circumstance to see Niino in this state. The other,

     typically so collected in a position such as this, had really let himself go that

     night and Jean secretly wondered if there was something going on that

     Niino wasn’t telling him about. Something upsetting him, specifically. There

     was always something behind such a secretive man. It never bothered him.

   His lips admittedly curl into a smile when he notices Niino drunkenly pouring

     alcohol into his glass. Even when he was drunk Niino was trying to give him

     more. It seemed instinctual at this point. Palm still touching Niino’s, he

     takes his other hand and swallows some of it slowly, already beginning to

     feel a small buzz in the back of his head.

   “Hmm...looks like we’re not taking your bike home tonight,” he responds in

     a soft slurred tone before placing his glass down and smiling softly. He

     smiled more around Niino always.

[smokeblooded-blog1]

.

[ssomebackgrounds]

[depictio]

little things that remind me of the mbti types

enfp: curiousity, bright eyes, sunflowers, artsy aesthetic pictures, sudden laughter, looking someone in the eye, concert tickets, glitter, feeling at home, fresh smells

enfj: campfire, picking out what to wear somewhere, long rants about things you care about, post-it notes, little smiles, encouraging words, compassion, mood swings, neon lights

esfp: new videos of your favourite youtubers, picnics, shivers, acoustic guitars, realising that you are in love, little notes scribbled onto paper, plants

esfj: waking up knowing that the day will be great, getting to know new people better, polaroids, colourful notebooks, the sea, talking to your best friend about things you can’t talk about with anybody else

infj: astronomy, lilac sky, wanting to know the reason for something so badly, holding in tears while smiling, maps of places you want to visit, book piles, late night conversations

infp: sketchbooks, self-made playlists, hopes for the future, reading a book for the hundreth time, obsessing about something, caring too much, finally finding someone who understands

isfj: galleries, cycling through the city late at night, nostalgia, “the one song”, the moon, suddenly being overwhelmed with emotion, buying yourself new flowers to place next to your desk, enjoying the first minutes of the day in bed

isfp: reassuring words, making your hair look perfect, little poems, waterfalls, lace, loving your friends more than anything, wanderlust, smell of roses

intj: reading a book while being on a social event, raised eyebrows, quick thoughts, structures, skyscrapers, an empty street at night, crystals, wit and sarcasm, cold evenings, eye bags, forgetting about your surroundings

intp: spending hours on wikipedia, always looking for the right answer, dusk, petrichor, cold air, first days of winter, everything finally making sense, writing ideas down, searching for the right words, being really passionate about something

istj: postcards, rings, flea markets, rivers, city trips, black and white photographs, to-do lists, gentle nods, taking someone’s hand, everything working out how you thought it would

istp: graffiti, holograms, city’s at night, rollercoasters, electric guitars, black holes, connecting two ideas

estj: ancient ruines, sculptures, skylines, first snow, justice, the feeling of doing the right thing, glory, hard work

estp: loyality, glass figures, blizzards, cold colours, paradox

entj: smokings, black grids, power, mansions, the sounds of high heels clicking, assuring yourself that you are going to suceed, having the perfect plan, standing on top of a skyscraper, tension, galas, freshly printed magazines

entp: excitement, knowing that you can’t stop now, i-don’t-care-but-i-do, smirks, waiting for people to reply, eyes widening, “what if…”

[akanedee]

if you ever call me annoying, even if it’s just jokingly, the chances of me ever speaking to you again are slim to none because I’ll be so afraid that every little word or sound that comes out of my mouth will aggravate you and make you cringe and hate my existence

[starsncheese]

感謝してるよ by 朝香

♡  Permission to upload has been granted by the artist. Please do not use, edit or repost without permission!

[quillweaves]

Imagine your otp/oc’s

[dreamie]

are you a witch or fairy person? a scented candle or incense person? a blueberry or strawberry person? an opal or diamond person? a vinyl or cassette person?

[sp00pypunkins]

Also because I assume everyone is like 16 reblog with your age in the tags?