#shysweet-hellhound

[brycecousland]

Have you ever seen a man so beautiful you cried? Yes his name is bryce

[unfinishcdbusincss]

you've been nothing but sweet and creative, we haven't been talking for very long but i think you're just the bees knees

Your support means a lot to me–and honestly? I was lowkey following you for a while on one of my old blogs. I don’t remember which one now, or I’d’ve brought it up sooner. Thank you for being so kind to me when I really needed it most!

[not-your-chosen]

@shysweet-hellhound

Margaux had returned from the field -spending time closing rifts and escorting a certain duffalo home.- some relief from being outside in nature had subsided once she returned to haven. Now she could feel that slow winding in her shoulders, the one that told her when she was spent with humanity.

At least speaking with Cullen was somewhat pleasant. As a long pause closed over the conversation, she followed his eye-line to the rather garishly dressed woman rather close to the training soldiers. Seeing the dress made her nose scrunch for just a second. The archer couldn't say that orlesian nobles were pleasant. Nobles in general weren't pleasant.

Cullen is called off by some other messenger, and Margaux made her way across the training field, easily seeing the clearest route to not get hurt by a sharp sword. If anyone was mindless enough to accidentally hit her, since her dark armor and bright inquisition paint upon it marked her as important at least, the herald, at most.

“Madam.” She called as she approached. “You're rather close. Would you kindly take some steps back?”

[crowleyisms]

@shysweet-hellhound​ at the end of a trail of blood:  ⚠ From Cassie?

The blood that lead the trail had a much different look than the human variety that was for sure. An inky black that was a thick ooze had been dripped heavily on the ground. Mixed in the the ink was the ocassional bright gold, like a hint of light that refused to be snuffed out as it shown brightly against the stark void. Drips were few and far between but as the trail went on the dripping became much heavier with greater spills of void and light mixed together.

Leaning against a wall and breathing heavily was the victim at the end of the trail. Signature sunglasses that would have been on the redhead’s face were gone and wild serpentine eyes could be seen. Mouth hung open with bared teeth, sharp and read to strike if anything got to near. Needless to say it was almost like approaching a cornered animal and he certainly looked the part with disheveled he look. Dark patches of scales adorning his skin from what could be seen and hands that seemed to end a little sharply.

Hearing someone approach his head snapped and he hissed. It was a deterrent, a warning if this newcomer got too close to him. He was hurting and the bleeding wasn’t stopping and he didn’t want to deal with anyone else, he wanted to get back home.

“Who are you? What do you want? Go away.”

[stones-endurance]

- Closed RP-

@shysweet-hellhound

The bitter taste of iron soured in his mouth. Each heavy step he took racking pain up through his abdomen. 

He needed a place to hide.

The wooden doors of the isolated barn cracked under the lean of his weight, swinging open with a clatter into the dusty hay bales that lined the barn’s interior.

He loomed through the doorway and crushed the exit closed behind him. His bloodied hands rested heavily against the doors as he heaved in a few sagging breaths.

This town had clearly never encountered a being like him before. Their immediate reaction being hostility.

The Goliath grunted as he took a slow step back from the door, the sounds of angered human screams fading in the distance. He had managed to lose the mob, for now.

He reached over his shoulder and gritted his teeth as he ripped one of the many jutting feathered arrows from between his shoulder blades. The tear of flesh as the arrowhead reemerged made him hiss.

He staggered around to face the interior of the barn, needing to place a hand against one of the support beams to keep himself steady. 

Then the smell hit his nose. Whispering through the aroma of his own blood.

Human. 

He wasn’t alone. 

[the-last-of-the-hellhounds]

@shysweet-hellhound

  The news of Tristan Yashvili and his ensemble coming from Moscow were received with a great gasp of enthusiasm and a greater acidental spill of coffee all over that morning’s newspaper. Isabelle had rushedly excused herself under the usual disapproving look of her boyfriend and couldn’t help but smile as she cleaned the article as best as she could and continued to devour it. She had already read five or six complete pieces of the playwriter’s work that had been translated to english, and without a doubt, had fallen in love with every single line of them. His characters were the kind of people, she had thought with herself once, that made her wishing she could not only observe their world from afar, in the dark of the audience, but walk into it, inside the fourth wall, and crave long conversations with. Mentioning that out loud, however, always resulted in negative replies. 

A man of his importance probably wouldn’t have the time or place for you in one of his plays, She had been repeated over and over as the days passed by and  she created courage by baby steps. We already know acting is not something promissing for you. For once, get real. Your head is not for this, Bells. Until this very day, when she finally decided to prove her boyfriend that he was wrong about it.

Isabelle raised her hand, hesitant, and knocked on the theather’s door, awaiting to see if anyone would receive her. She fidgets uncomfortably, thinking for a single moment if she should just forget about it and come back before anyone missed her absence. Jackson was right. She wasn’t talented. They’d laugh on her face. She should go back, buy a ticket like everybody else... It would be a waste of time. But then a sudden crack on the door made her stare at the stranger, holding her insecurities inside her chest.  “Hello. I mean, good night. ” She corrected herself quickly, cleaning her throat. “I... I know the theather is not open yet, but I was wondering if I could spare a few words with the playwriter?”

[nikolacvna-archive]

@shysweet-hellhound  asked :     😅 - Tell them a Cheesy Joke!      😳 - Tell them a Silly Pickup Line!     //    it’s a cheesy, joking pickup line meant to make her laugh, from Tristan

   ꧁ ༒ ☬   sweep tatya off her feet!  /  accepting!  ☬ ༒ ꧂

           whatever his intention,  it does not quite succeed.   tatiana is shocked, certainly   —   the hand that flies to her mouth catches a laugh as it escapes   ( heaven forbid she grinned in public, for all of petersburg to see the unsightly gap between her teeth! )     few men of the court would be so bold.    indeed, few dare to approach the grand duchesses at all.    princes and dukes shrink away from their repuation, even if the young ladies in person are hardly daunting…    but this silvertongued playwrite has no problem approaching her in the middle of the ballroom.

           ‘ i do hope you have never said that joke out loud before, ’      she can’t help saying, eyes gleaming.       ‘ or ever will again.   were you to put it in a play, your actors might be too embarassed to say it! ’       though she really does appreciate the effort.

[guiltsworn-a]

          ❝ mm, i don’t know. ❞ voice as sarcastic as ever, vic slouched in his seat more, leaning on the arm of the chair  &  squinting deeply at iskra. he looked over her face, mostly------more specifically her forehead  &  hair area. they’d been at this BANTER for a bit, vic’s teasing growing more  &  more frequent by the second. quite clearly ; he was enjoying this. 

            a finger tapped the side of his face------was this getting MEAN ? he’d wrap it up ... after one more comment. ❝ its just---your head is definitely bigger ; it should have more capacity to hold knowledge. so one WOULD think you’re the smarter one, yet here i am. i guess it can’t be helped. ❞

@shysweet-hellhound​ issa gets this now before i forget