To be honest, it's taken the better half of twenty minutes and a couple of shots for Eden to work up the nerve to approach him. What would Shane Hollander be doing in a club, of all things? Well, they're not going to question it, and they slide into the seat next to him at the bar, grinning a little.
"Bonjour, Shane Hollander, yes? Would you let me buy you a drink?" Well, at least they're straightforward. "My name is Eden. I saw you play today. Canada was quite impressive against my countrymen. Sad to say that France stood no chance." They laugh, fingers anxiously tapping against their legs. "It is a pleasure to see you outside of the rink."
📁📁 i’ll be NICE and ask for TWO from everyone <3
“📂“ for a random yet completely useless headcanon
BIRDIE
Her favorite color is yellow.
After one incident of being sunburned so bad she got sun poisoning, she is now a serious user of sunscreen. She's always applying it when there's a hint of the sun out. (In other words: Never Again will she Suffer.)
DANNY
He uses glasses for reading. He cannot figure out contacts.
He's been thrown from horses more than anyone else on the family ranch, and it will absolutely fuck him up later in life.
EOGHAN
Surprisingly insensitive and manipulative, for someone as positive and kind as he's known to be.
Overly touchy while also extremely touch starved.
FUJIKO
Borderline illiterate, when she looks at magazines, it's mostly for fashion ideas in the pictures.
She's manipulative, she's selfish, but if you dig in deep enough you might find someone worth earning the loyalty of - maybe.
KICK
Jackass is absolutely a reason for the way he tends to be off mission.
Has a (sealed) juvenile record of car theft, vandalism, and petty crime.
MOE
Should not have a driver's license but keeps skating by thanks to good looks and her father being in the military and 'knowing people.'
Being a tattoo artist is her job, but painting is her real passion. She'd love to have her works in an art gallery one day, but is pretty private about that desire.
OD
Everyone in his personal life knows he's abusing prescription pills, but no one will say anything because of how he got his injuries.
If you can get him sober, he's a mean cook. Literally? Like, he's an asshole in the kitchen, but he's also a really good cook.
ROACH
Not afraid of anything. (Except being alone.)
Can't cook. Do not trust him in the kitchen, I'm so serious, he will ruin your pans.
TRICK
His biggest fear is being in a vehicle driven by Moe.
Won't take prescription pain pills, even though he absolutely needs them sometimes. Has a collection of full bottles in his bathroom that he doesn't know what to do with.
WRENCH
Doesn't know his own kill count - honestly tries not to think about it sometimes.
Has perfected the art of coming off as goofy and fun while actually being a dangerous mother fucker. His temper is always running, and all he needs is one excuse to explode - doesn't even have to be a good one.
WYATT
Has accidentally broken arms of patients while trying to help restrain them due to his own strength.
He lives a very health conscious lifestyle when it comes to food, but he will never turn down a chocolate milkshake.
“ clive, look at me. ” the world narrows to the short distance between them. arthur, standing but a few feet away, keeps his arms steady at his sides, palms open and waiting. tall grass sways at his knees. the blighted lands lingered like a dark scar over his shoulder, only a few hills north from the secluded fields they'd found. the shape of them transform the bearer into a paler line in contrast. his voice is low, warm, patient. despite the hard beat of his pulse, he keeps his gaze steady. the deep browns of his eyes stir once—a thin, aether-laced gold brushing against the irises—before he forces the color back down.
he takes a breath, deep enough to shutter in his chest, then nods. takes another. watches the other watch him with a small, growing satisfaction. steady the moment, he tells himself. keep him here instead of back there, at the worst of it.
“ we have time. ” he reassures. the other's worry softens his face, not enough to take away the tired wrinkles around his eyes or the hesitant pull of his lips, but enough to braid care and caution into something quiet. gentler, perhaps, than the dominant has been able to afford in a long while.
“ you've been burying yourself in work for weeks. ” arthur continues. not accusing, just measuring the toll of burden. the months since cid's death had been anything but kind, and everyone knew clive took the worst of it—staring into the shape left behind and hoping with each day that every order, instruction, mission, and bounty could fill the gap. though now, with the hideaway steadily building, everyone split into their roles with as much sureness as they could muster in these trying times, it seemed the most opportune moment to remind the dominant that there was only so much command could do for him.
especially with the bout of heat beneath all that false calm.
arthur feels the warmth radiate between them. it was as if he stood within the fires of beinn leodladh himself. a crisp ash. and something more precise beneath—like lightning after summer rain. they fought each other, almost, noticeable enough for arthur's eyes to see the edges of aether eating around clive's frame. the bearer's face softens, unafraid or stupid or familiar, it is hard to tell. still, he does not shy away. “ you're going to hurt yourself holding all that in. ” he steps closer, slow, palms open and calm. “ why not practice letting some of it go for once ?? ”
"baby, if you ask me a hockey question right now, i might actually combust." the playoffs were over and oliver was exhausted. he didn't want to think about the sport for the next two weeks at least. what he wanted to do was curl up in bed with his boyfriend and maybe sometimes take haven out to the park and just be normal. he also knew there was a fat chance of any of that happening, hockey had been his life long before des had been, and now that he was starting to get friendly with some of the players, it was inescapable outside of the sanctuary of des's home. "i never want to see a puck again. or a stick. or pads. or just — anyone but you and hav. if my phone rings and it says hollander or — fucking god forbid rozanov — i want you to kill me, okay?"
During the early phase of Sen7inel's criminal career, she worked for various crime rings around the East Coast (primarily NYC), typically dealing with the endless middlemen or handlers who helped run the various territories. Sen7inel learned there was a pattern to working with these types: find an in, prove your worth, when they start to take you for granted — get the fuck out before you become dispensable.
There was one man who didn't fit the pattern. She doesn't even remember his name; she was barely 18 and still just trying to survive on her own. But she remembers he ran a tight ship. He was older, more patient than what she was used to, fed her on the occasion, told her to take the night off when she was sick.
She didn't really understand why she left. Without notice. She would have rationalized it: the job was drying up, she needed to move. The real reason, the one where she started to feel like someone was getting too close, she wouldn't have the words for that yet. But every once in a while, her mind wanders back to that time, and she wonders what happened to that handler with a faint pang of regret for not even saying thank you before she left.
[♦] - for a superstition / bad luck headcanon
Sen7inel isn't generally superstitious. But she does not keep candles around her spaces. She'll say it's because she'll forget to blow them out (which, frankly, is a real risk) but also the cult/institutions used candles frequently in the rituals and sermons that she'd rather forget.
@bruisednotes said: "Stop looking at me like that." than to zag !
"I don't know what on earth you're talking about, Than."
Zagreus, of course, knows exactly what Thanatos is talking about. It's that wide-eyed, pleading stare he gives him whenever he doesn't want him to go, to try to get him to shirk his duties just for a little bit longer. It works sometimes. Other times, Thanatos just seems more irritated than anything else. Zagreus sticks his lower lip out in a pout, an arm wrapping around Thanatos' middle to try and stop him from leaving the bed.
"You can't stay for a little bit longer? Just a little. I'll behave." No he won't. Already, his hands are wandering, lips pressing to his shoulder, trailing up his neck. "I think spending time with me is much more enjoyable than anything else you have going on."
distracting your lover from a task by kissing their neck.
kiss & tell.
He's lucky he's not using his mouth in another way to distract her, she'd have flung her pen at him and made him go retrieve it after. It probably would have been the better way, for her, she'd have at least gotten some work done while he was off pretending to pout about it. But no, no, Izal had chosen the right way to go about distracting her. Heat pressed against her back and lips on her neck. His hair tickling her bare shoulder as he tilts his head and turns his distraction from his a press of lips to her pulse to something a little more firm, a little damp, a little hot, with a hint of tongue and teeth and wet heat -
Oh, he's fucking lucky. Lucky that his mouth is perfect, and he's perfect, and he knows just how to hit all her buttons the right way. Knows just the way she likes to be teased and distracted.
"Awww," Her voice is warm and low, laughter bubbling from her as she drops her pen and reaches behind her for him, to grope and squeeze him in an ink stained palm. "Did my favorite puppy get a little bored? Are you feeling lonely?"
