#divorce era...

[deadliketheparty]

cant sleep bcs im thinking about the fact damon wrote "sweet song" while crying over a pic of graham.

[iudiex]

         𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡   𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡𝐬   𝐨𝐟   𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐬𝐞𝐚,   at   the   bottom   of   the   fortress   proper   -   he   can   feel   the   thrum   of   water   around   them,   the   tender   caress   and   price   of   what   lurks   beneath   the   surface.   here   though   -   it   speaks   no   joys,   too   in   tune   with   the   behaviors   of   it's   master   -   the   mood,   that   darkens   the   hydro   sovereign's   cloudy   skies.   his   sensitive   ears   pick   up   on   too   much.   the   whirring   of   many   gears   within   the   fortress   itself,   the   click   of   his   own   heels   across   steel   as   he   paces,   the   steady   tick-tock   of   one   of   the   many   clocks   in   the   office,   and   finally...   wriothesley's   heartbeat,   strangely   so   slow   and   even,   when   neuvillette's   was   jack-rabbiting   in   his   chest.   why   was   the   duke's   not   doing   the   same?   should   it   not   be   doing   the   same?   he   didn't   understand.

         and   yet,   ethereal   features   remain   impassive,   the   hidden   candor   of   his   gaze   peering   up   through   blue   tinted   lashes   at   the   warden.   silence   reigns   supreme   between   them,   heavy   as   the   pressure   of   the   water   outside,   and   neuvillette...   a   furrow   ticks   between   his   brows,   as   he   works   to   process   what   he   feels   -   works   to   understand   why   his   chest   feels   so   damn   tight.   wriothesley   makes   things   so   complicated.   emotions   were   indecipherable   on   the   best   of   days...   but   throw   in   their...   situationship,   and   the   chief   justice   was   well   and   truly   up   a   creek   without   a   paddle.   and   that   was   saying   something,   given   the   fact   he   had   gills   and   fins.   

         ❝   ⸻   you   have   gone   too   far   this   time,   wriothesley.   ❞   vishap's   gaze   fixes   on   him   fully   now,   the   bright   slit   of   his   pupils   near   luminous   in   the   low   lighting.   he   wants   to   touch   him.   wants   to   kiss   him.   but   fails   in   even   that.   instead,   that   knot   between   his   brow   increases,   heart   jackrabbiting   further   -   faster,   harder.   was   he   dying?   ❝   i   -   you...   ❞   that   previous   silence   had   been   so   defeaning,   if   only   because   it   had   been   left   ringing   in   the   wake   of   the   duke's   raised   tones,   normal   firm   gentleness   replaced   by...   what   was   the   word...   anger?

         confusion   melts   to   frustration   in   in   an   instant,   lips   pursing,   eyes   narrowing,   and   his   body   drawn   rigid.   ❝   you   do   not   get   to   speak   to   me   like   that,   your   grace.   ❞   and   now,   perhaps,   the   leviathan   bares   his   teeth.

@wulvend