#vainrot

[ssouverain]

[deadn30n-arch]

                 oh?  how  interesting.  Luo  Binghe  thinks  to  himself.  so  the  general  lives  up  to  all  the  rumors  he's  heard  about  his  infalliable  patience.  the  proof  is  standing  right  here  in  front  of  him,  seeing  as  how  he  hasn't  been  tossed  out,  yelled  at,  or  had  something  sharp  pointed  in  his  direction.  it  looks  peaceful  enough,  but  Luo  Binghe  also  isn't  stupid.  he  doesn't  mistake  tolerance  for  kindness.  there  is  a  thick  tension  hanging  in  the  air  between  them   –   thick  but  fragile.  all  it'd  take  is  one  small  misstep  on  Luo  Binghe's  part  and  he's  certain  a  fight  could  break  out.  or,  at  the  very  least,  Jing  Yuan  would  find  the  means  to  throw  him  out  or  have  him  tossed  into  a  cell  in  the  shackling  prison.  that  might  be  fun,  he  muses,  coming  up  with  some  creative  way  to  break  out  and  smear  it  in  everyone's  face.  as  if  they  think  they  can  keep  someone  like  him  caged  away  from  the  rest  of  the  world…

                  he  really  is  too  arrogant  for  his  own  good  sometimes.  “  running?  me?  ”   Luo  Binghe  practically  sneers  in  his  direction.   “  if  anyone  should  do  the  running,  it's  them.  ”   really  now  Jing  Yuan…  the  Luo  Binghe…  running  from  something?  he  almost  has  to  laugh  at  the  thought.  the  day  he  needs  to  go  running  from  anything  is  surely  the  day  he  stops  being  who  he  spent  nearly  fifty  years  building  himself  up  to  be.   “  no,  i'm  not  running  from  anything.  ”   he  says  truthfully.   “  but  i  did  come  here  with  a  purpose…  can  you  guess  what  that  is?  i'll  let  you  think  about  it  while  i  go  get  changed.  ”   the  smirk  never  leaves  his  lips  even  after  he's  disappeared  back  into  the  bathroom.  Luo  Binghe  takes  around  ten  minutes  to  clean  himself  up  and  make  himself  look  at  least  a  little  bit  more  presentable,  but  it's  the  bare  minimum  at  best.  when  he  returns,  he's  wearing  a  loose  fitting  white  under  robe  and  his  fluffy  brown  hair  is  pulled  up  in  a  ponytail.  every  movement  he  makes  is  completely  casual  as  he  brushes  past  Jing  Yuan  and  makes  a  beeline  for  the  couch,  depositing  himself  onto  it  with  a  single  grunt  and  a  sigh. 

                  “  thought  about  it?  ”   his  words  carry  that  same  offhanded  attitude  as  he  asks  while  tucking  an  arm  underneath  his  head.   “  it's  fine  if  you  can't  figure  it  out,  i  don't  make  myself  easy  to  read.  ”   laughter  is  drug  up  from  the  depths  of  his  chest  to  unspool  heartily  from  his  tongue.  Luo  Binghe  finds  the  whole  situation  amusing,  and  is  interested  to  see  what  else  will  come  of  their  little  interaction.   “  it's  nice  of  you  to  say  i  can  stay,  i  just  need  a  night  and  then  i'll  be  on  my  way.  i'll  even  make  you  breakfast  in  the  morning  as  my  thanks.  ”   as  he  rolls  over  onto  his  side  to  study  him,  his  tail  lazily  drapes  over  his  own  hip.  he's  making  it  very  clear  that  he's  getting  comfortable  and  won't  be  moving  any  time  soon,  regardless  of  the  tension  still  crackling  between  the  two  of  them.   “  don't  worry,  i  don't  plan  on  hurting  your  or  stealing  anything  from  your  house.  doing  that  wouldn't  leave  you  with  a  very  good  impression  of  me,  would  it?  ”   as  if  he'd  managed  to  do  so  to  begin  with;  he  hadn't  been  courteous  in  the  slightest,  and  he  most  certainly  was  taking  advantage  of  Jing  Yuan's  kindness  and  patience  now.

                  “  …  right!  i  almost  forgot.  ”   Luo  Binghe  suddenly  declares  with  a  clap  of  his  hands  together.   “  i  heard  you  appointed  a  certain  general  to  your  army…  did  you  know  we  come  from  the  same  world?  the  same  sect,  actually.  he's  my  shishu.  ”   he  references  Liu  Qingge's  recent  rise  to  popularity  with  a  smug  smile  smeared  all  over  his  lips.  in  it,  there  can  be  found  a  faint  hint  of  distaste.   “  i  think  that's  very  interesting  that  you  chose  him  and  our  old  sect  leader  for  a  position  like  that. you don't choose your friends very well. if you knew what kind of people they really were...  ”   throwing  Yue  Qingyuan  into  the  mix  further  added  a  sour  note  to  his  expression,  if  only  because  the  satisfaction  of  killing  him  and  shattering  Xuan  Su  had  now  disappeared  once  he  discovered  another  version  of  him  was  alive  and  well,  and  living  a  decent  life.  despicable.

@vainrot / cont. ♥

[altarfates]

@vainrot. ♡

pain bloomed from the sudden impact, burgeoning outward as a prominent, infuriating reminder that ezreal’s aim surpassed his own. that was the part that pissed him off the most, that alongside the exasperating insistence that he cover each inch of skin with that encumbering armour. he would move more efficiently without it, each contraction of muscle intent of wrestling victory out of the hands of his bandmates. because, when it came down to it, kayn thrived the most with his competitive nature provoked. that’s why, as rhaast’s disdain swathes him, stifling and intoxicating, he retaliates accordingly; incensed. ❝ no thanks to your fucking commentary. ❞ undeterred by the way rhaast’s imposing shadow swallows his own, brazen because he knows no other way to be. It was nothing more than a stupid, meaningless game, there would be no repercussions should he lose and no spoils to be claimed if he won but losing was something neither him nor the darkin could abide by. he had to avenge the smear of lurid purple that would fade into a morbid yellow before it healed, hit ezreal where it hurt, leaving a lasting mark that would sully his pristinely kept facade. kayn knows rhaast can feel it, the frenzy of anger seething within him, they tenanted the same anarchic mind often enough that everything he felt he considered shared. rhaast loathed losing, he knew that much for certain. ❝I am the best.❞ he insists, hissed through stubbornly clenched teeth because those invasive hands are pressing firmly against his tender, freshly contused skin. it’s the oppressive heat that surges through him at rhaast’s whim that bothers him the most, because it’s dampening his ire, twisting it into another aberrant feeling. to spare him the humiliation of rhaast’s acuity his lips pull back in a snarl, though his desire and umbrage are at war it’s an inconclusive battle. their closeness is asphyxiating, a proximity that’s almost as devastating as when rhaast’s intentions envelope his own, or when he’s fucking him until his petulant mouth is rendered useless. rhaast interrupts him before his teeth grind out a bitter retort, adjusting his ineffective grip, easing him into a stance that will prove far more lethal. seeing them move in tandem, kayn’s obstinate will yielding to rhaast’s guidance, almost gives a morbid insight into the asylum of a mind they shared. it’s flawless, an expeditious shot like this would send the pop-star prince sprawling on his ass. kayn’s sickly fond of the mental image that evokes, certain the satisfaction will be far sweeter than any potent alcohol they might ingest after, celebrating what should be an inevitable victory. it was the two of them after all, kayn might be conceited but it’s that very pride that has him convinced that together nothing could surpass them. ❝ what the hell rhaast, when the fuck did you become so good at this.❞ it’s always strange to see kayn become tractable, elbows obediently close to his body, aim adjusted in accordance to rhaast’s instructions. it didn’t prevent the stifling heat unfurling within him only heightens it into something dangerous. ❝ we’re gonna kill him, right ?❞ and his restless finger, poised on the trigger, is overseen by rhaast’s censorious gaze, he was already aroused, indignation or lust it all culminated in a similarly uncontainable fire. 

[pyonpyonpyon]

@vainrot [x]

"It's not a surprise if I tell you, Sama-tan!" Ramuda clicks his tongue, wagging his finger at Samatoki and not at all concerned about how Samatoki's got him by the shirt. Samatoki may be impatient and rude and bossy, but he's not that mean! A bit of Ramuda-branded fun's sure to spice up his day!

Well, that's only if they can even get to the place Ramuda has in mind. At this rate, they'll be here foreeeever, and that's no good! Really, if Samatoki wants to be a rock in the middle of the crowd, he can at least say so! Ramuda's the one here trying to have a former-teammate-bestie's day out! Gosh, some people just don't know how to have fun!

"A light?" Oho~? He glances down to Samatoki's empty hand, giggling. A step forward, wonder if Samatoki would let go, follow him, or double down on keeping him there by the shirt. "I dunno~ Smoking's best done outta the crowd and with some company, don'tcha think~?"

He winks.

[cataschism-moving]

✦ continued from.            /            @vainrot.

It’s fun to kiss Lynch in the same possessive way it feels to see him come through his door, two in the morning, looking about half dead from insomnia and itching for a fix. Same feeling to his fingers in K’s mouth. Same feeling against the curb. Left-right, Kavinsky’s whole world revolves around the axis that is Lynch, this little princess who has a hard time looking dreams dead-on. 

❛ Hey, Lynch, ❜ Kavinsky’s fingers dig into the supple skin of Ronan’s cheeks as he drags Ronan’s face up, up, to look upon his face. His back is arched against the car, it’s uncomfortable. Kavinsky’s bones jut out, making him look hollow and brittle against Ronan, who’s sturdy, but not steady. ❛ Don’t fucking pass out on me, man. You don’t even know beauty, yet. Hey, Lynch, you ever see a car crash from the perspective of the car? ❜ 

It’s a SCREECH-BANG, the crash, something Kavinsky has relived and rewired into Proko about a hundred dozen times. Tires screech. The sound of glass breaking inside your eardrums, poking into your hands, windshield fucking gone. Curb or car or person, Kavinsky’s dreamt a thousand of these, imagining the car exploding or him dying, Proko dying, a thousand fucking things going on as soon as that car hits whatever it hits, as loud as a gunshot but half as funny. 

The white-hot blur of headlights, now that’s beauty, when your ears ring from how bright your LEDs are. As bright as the sun, right in your face. They feel that, like a living beast, that white-hot LED all around them; and that feeling of air rushing, glass breaking. You’re the boy inside and you’re the car external, Kavinsky breathes exhaust and he knows Ronan inhales it, them two interwoven.

Kavinsky’s hand is on Ronan’s throat, his lips still alight with the taste of Ronan’s spit. His head throbs, ears ring. But he smiles, skin and bones a-tremble, he grins at Ronan, fingers digging so hard Ronan’ll dream hickeys on himself. The feeling so tangible, Kavinsky so unavoidable.

He searches Ronan’s eyes, hoping for understanding, at the very least amazement. And all he sees is Ronan, wanting to wake up. Doesn’t he know Kavinsky’ll find him too, put him back down like a dog? ❛ Don’t fall apart on me, Lynch. You hang out too much with Gansey-boy, you think that? You’re falling asleep at the climax. You faggot, listen to me. ❜ 

He twists Ronan’s head to view the LED. The car like a hell hound, circling. Car crash imminent. Boy and crash, imminent, awaiting. Kavinsky’ll make his nightmares come true. ❛ You wanna dream something real impressive? You came to the right fucking party. ❜

[ssouverain]

@vainrot ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ starter call .

     little  time  had  passed  since  the  iudex  received  word  that  the  knave  had  found  herself  back  upon  their  shores ,  and  had  requested  an  audience .  luckily ,  he  had  an  opening  this  afternoon ,  as  if  the  universe  knew  of  this  before  he  did .  

     it  was  odd ,  to  say  the  least .  many  things  had  changed ,  due  to  their  last  experience  together .  neuvillette  couldn't  deny  his  own  curiosities  about  what  the  harbinger  had  gotten  up  to  since  they  parted  ways . . .  how  she  was  doing .  it  was  a  rather  unique  concoction  brewing  within  him .  arlecchino  had  contributed  a  great  amount  when  assistance  was  needed  most .  fontaine ,  the  iudex  included ,  would  forever  be  grateful .  where  would  they  be  if  not  for  her . . .  still ,  she  was  a  fatui  harbinger  above  all .  naturally  that  made  it  difficult  to  extend  full  and  confident  trust .  

     the  chief  justice  was  put  into  a  difficult  position  due  to  this  fact  alone .  nonetheless ,  perhaps  a  true  friendship  could  weave  itself  into  existence  provided  she  continue  proving  stereotypes  incorrect .  how  nice  would  that  be . . .

                                                            knock  knock .

     the  guest  of  the  hour  had  arrived ,  punctual  as  always .  the  book  that  had  been  perched  in  neuvillette's  palm  was  placed  on  the  desk ,  fingers  tangling  together  before  his  hands  rested  on  the  tabletop  in  tow .  the  door  was  then  pushed  open  by  a  receptionist  —  a  melusine  —  whom  escorted  the  harbinger  fully  into  his  office .  warm  thanks  were  given  before  the  melusine  waddled  her  way  back  out ,  and  full  attention  was  given  to  the  dragon's  newfound  company .

❛  greetings ,  my  lady .  feel  free  to  take  a  seat .  help  yourself  to  the  tea  on  the  table ,  it's  freshly  brewed  for  you .

     his  head  bowed  respectfully  along  with  his  words ,  and  he  shifted  to  stand  and  shuffle  toward  the  other  end  of  the  couch .  it  was  a  bit  more  personal ,  it  felt  more  fitting  for  a  meeting  such  as  this .

[altarfates]

Kayn was always like this, pretending he was infallible, convinced that the way he saw things couldn’t be skewed by something as insignificant as jealousy. He didn’t understand how important it was to interact with the fans, even if it only fueled their feverish delusions, because if everyone was as insolent as he was their career might as well have been forfeited before it began. Ezreal had stood under those harsh lights and felt every leering gaze in the room bear down upon him, still his facade didn’t falter, still he sang and danced and performed with fervour. Even if it wasn’t entirely authentic, even if it left him breathless and rattled, he still gave all of himself. There would be sacrifices, blithely laughing as someone asked him about his relationship with his bandmates even as it twisted relentlessly in his gut; that was what was demanded of them. At times he hates it, hates it because when he glimpses Kayn captivating the crowd, driving the fans into a frenzy, he knows he wants more than to share just that moment with him, just the stage, just their career. If anyone had a right to be pissed off, if anyone had the right to throw a fit like a petulant child it was him. That is why when the popstar prince turns on him, his eyes are alight with frustration, an emotion that Kayn must derive great pleasure from since he’s repeatedly insisted on bringing it to the surface. ❝ If someone doesn’t what will you do ?❞ He tilts his head back to level him with a caustic glare. He knows this is unfair but who is going to be placated by vindicating it with a: it’s just how @vainrot is. Part of his allure was this imminent danger, the very thing that seethed just beneath his skin made him irresistible, Ezreal knew, because being the one to engage with the fans meant he saw things Kayn neglected to acknowledge. Arrogance might have him boast how much he was wanted, how fucking impressive his music was but if he had read the salacious strokes of keyboards as fans directed their fervent desires at him would he be repulsed. ❝ Do whatever the hell you want, act like this doesn’t affect other people ?❞ Relationships were detrimental to the band, relationships with people like Kayn never proved to be anything other than ruinous. It didn’t mean he had circumvented his own feelings, like a fucking sickness it continued to run rampant, ruthlessly alternating between being desperately wanted and vehemently hated. What he wanted and what they were allowed to have would always be disparate, someone had to swallow it down, someone had to be able to handle the inequity of it. He might think Ezreal is acting childish, stomping his foot in puerile defiance but it runs deeper than that.

[ssouverain]

@vainrot ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ continued.

❛ i had it made for you .

he answered simply , honestly , strands of intimacy lacing themselves quietly into his words . he was on an afternoon stroll , with aims to clear his head , only for it to be filled with flashes of reds and greys in lieu of the legal paperwork waiting upon his desk . the knave had been gnawing at his thoughts during her extended stay in fontaine , carving out her own personal place to take up a permanent residence in the depths of his mind . and that's exactly how he ended up pausing in front of a jeweler's display a few days ago , pondering how each accessory might lay against arlecchino's skin . gifting has always been a personal language of his — an outlet reserved for a select few , to share all of the appreciation and fondness that remained stifled on his ever - impartial tongue .

nothing he found satisfied him enough , though . no , there was a unique elegance to the harbinger , one that simply couldn't be paired to an ordinary gem . she needed something tailored specifically in her image . his visions were specific , crafted by the silent observations he'd made during their time together . he was nothing if not keenly attentive . arlecchino had her own memo pad etched into his thoughts , slowly filling up with little tidbits . what she liked to wear , what she absolutely detested and found tacky . her dining preferences , her choice of desserts , her favorite wine , how many sugar cubes she liked in her afternoon tea . small things , ordinary things , but they were her . and he wanted to commit the essence of her to his memory , if not only to be called upon in times like this . there is no point in a gift if it isn't thoughtful . the iudex is not one for hollow gesture .

as she turned , his gaze dipped to admire his design choices . yes , this is perfect . a softness seeped into his expression , pleased with the way the rare , black jewels drape so perfectly around her neck , standing out just enough while still blending with her attire . the only thing that grabbed his attention was the palm placed upon the expanse of his chest , and now his eyes are carefully watching the way slender fingers smoothed the fabric . it was curious , the way it seemed to prompt his heart to race , pounding with an intensity she surely felt beneath her touch . heat rose to his cheeks , which he could only hope he willed away by the time she looked up at his face .

❛ it's even better than what i imagined . you look beautiful .

his response came gently , hushed , a moment to be shared between the two of them and the air filling what little space was between them . he was painfully aware of the absence of her touch , hooked on the addicting tingle it sent up his spine a moment ago . it was unlike anything he'd ever felt before — she , as a whole , was unlike anything he'd ever experienced . he was drowning in the newness of it all , the strange sensations he couldn't even hope to describe if he wanted to , but it was pleasant . it was warm . it was something deeply intimate he found himself wanting to chase — and that scared him , yet he didn't run . no , instead his own hands rose once more , bare fingertips grazing her skin , a mere tease of a touch that was gone as quickly as it came . he was adjusting her new necklace to rest in the perfect spot from his new perspective . it was harder to judge when he was behind her , after all .

❛ what do you think ? is it to your liking ?