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@erebius yall know the drill i even have some things queued over there to go out today :) bringing some drafts and asks with me

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the question is do i move blogs now and just grab my drafts or wait til the drafts are done . . . that may lead to an endless draft cycle . . . blog move may be imminent

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❛❛  we've  got  a  weird  bunch.     we've  literally  got  a  dwarf  with  magic  ,     y'know  ?  ❜❜           victor's  brows  pinch  with  curiosity  ,     his  head  tilting  in  a  way  almost  fond———he  can't  believe  lucanis  is  still  drinking  this  shit.     he  really  is  something.           ❛❛  don't  worry  ,  if  i  took  you  home  ,     everyone  would  be  trippin'  over  themselves  to  run  away———from  both  of  us.     just  like  normal.  ❜❜           HOME,     he  thinks  ,     and  its  with  a  pang  in  his  chest.     i  have  no  home  anymore.     instinctively  ,     a  hand  reaches  for  a  flask  on  his  belt———but  there  isn't  one.         ❛❛  does  spite  like  the  coffee  ?  ❜❜

“ Mierda. ” Corypheus, and a spirit boy? He acts as though this is nothing, which Lucanis doesn't know if he likes or not yet. Despite not liking the coffee much, he takes another drink. It still can keep him awake even if it tastes shitty. “ No, can't say I have. ” He chuckles, setting his mug down again. “ Though, everyone has been taking it better than I imagined when I was in the ossuary. I half - expected to be dead by now. ”

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❛❛  greedy.  ❜❜           victor  snickers  at  assan's  eagerness  ,     wishing  he'd  left  a  scrap  or  two  ,     but  not  really  bothered  by  it  either  way.          ❛❛  i  was  gonna  give  you  ‘em  piece  by  piece  ,    see  how  good  you  are  at  catching.     oh  well.  ❜❜           he  reaches  forward  now  to  scratch  assan’s  head  between  his  ears  ,     smile  still  bright  and  beaming———despite  everything  ,    assan  makes  victor  terribly  happy.    something  has  to , anyways.          ❛❛  where  is  your  dad  ,     anyways  ?     surprised  he  let  you  get  this  far  out  of  sight———to  the  kitchen  ,     of  all  places.     you  bein'  sneaky  ,     assan  ?  ❜❜

ears flatten against his skull before his gaze turns to look behind him, eyeing the kitchen doorway. the door is shut, the windows too tall, and a silence settles between them. his crooked ear cocks, listening.

satisfied after an awkward amount of time, assan turns and quickly snatches the scraps into his beak, swallowing them in one gulp. the consequences of this won't be on vic, but davrin will certainly suffer them.

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attempting some semblance of activity thru the pain DSHFJLSHF

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having a tmj flare up what NEXT

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@turlums . . . " the awful things we do to make our heads feel quiet . "

shaky  hand  raises  to  rub  over  victor's  forehead  ,     the  cold  of  his  own  chilled  skin  cooling  him  there.     its  welcomely  grounding.     his  eyes  close  ,     and  he  sighs.           ❛❛  you're  tellin'  me.  ❜❜           softer  than  his  voice  usually  is  ,     sadder.     there  is  a  weight  to  what  he  says  ,     here  ,     so  heavy  it  seems  to  weight  down  his  shoulders.     he'll  have  to  tell  them  all  ,     someday.     tell  them  how  many  years  he's  been  clean  ,     how  fucking  difficult  its  been  every  day.     HOW DIFFICULT IT ESPECIALLY IS NOW.     he's  going  to  need  their  support.     actually  ,     he  needs  it  now———but  he  can't  bring  himself  to  say  it.           ❛❛  i   .  .  .   know  a  thing  or  two  about  it  ,     for  sure.     though  sometimes  ,     my  head  goes  quiet  all  on  its  own———forces  it.     don't  care  for  that.     its  difficult  to  come  back  from.  ❜❜

that  part  is  easier  to  talk  about.     anyways  ,     there's  no  way  his  new  friends  haven't  noticed  how  frequently  he  stares  blankly  ahead  ,     how  every  new  piece  of  bad  news  seems  to  make  his  eyes  glaze  over  ,     a  certain  confusion  seeping  in.     would  they  still  like  victor  as  a  leader  ,     if  they  knew  what  turmoil  storms  inside  him  ?     his  head  shakes  ,     as  though  answering  his  own  question.           ❛❛  you  ever  need  help  doin'  not-awful  things  to  quiet  your  head  ,     you  know  where  to  find  me  ,     yeah  ?     i  try  to  be  fun  sometimes.     that  usually  helps.  ❜❜

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@turlums . . . assan squawks a rather delightful sound, head bobbing excitedly. is he happy to see you... or is he just hungry for your lunch?

whatever  the  case  ,     victor  is  utterly  delighted  ,     his  eyes  sparkling  with  joy  with  each  sound  assan  makes.     he  leans  down  closer  ,     smile  cracking  wider  than  it  ever  has  before.           ❛❛  hi  ,     sweet baby.     you  look  awful  precious  ,     when  you  do  that.  ❜❜           he  glances  sideways  at  his  lunch  ,     and  cannot  help  noticing  the  conveniently  assan-bite-sized  scraps  he  has  left.     WHAT DAVRIN DOESN'T KNOW WON'T HURT HIM.     smile  turning  to  mischief  ,     he  grabs  a  scrap  of  food  to  offer  up  ,     giggling  fondly  at  the  gryphon.           ❛❛  i  won't  tell  your  dad  if  you  don't  ,     alright  ?  ❜❜

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its  a  strange  place  to  meet  ,     even  for  morrigan.     but  victor  is  used  to  strange  by  now———strange  like  gods  being  real  ,     like  his  dwarven  friend  having  magic  ,     like  him  being  in  charge  of  something  other  than  spies.     so  dragging  steps  carry  him  through  the  ruins  of  dock  town  to  this  meeting  spot  ,     and  he  opens  his  mouth  to  inquire  about  the  secrecy———but  before  he  can  speak  ,     a  familiar  voice  hits  his  ears  ,     and  a  wash  of  relief  crashes  over  him. 

its  visible  ,     tangible;     the  way  his  shoulders  droop  ,     eyes  closing  as  he  exhales.    evie.     if  nothing  else  good  ever  happens  to  him  again  ,     at  the  very  least  this  may  keep  him  sane.     at  least  he'll  have  family  in  this  group  of  mostly-strangers  to  keep  him  grounded.     A SMILE BREAKS THROUGH HIS SADNESS  ,     and  when  evie  hugs  him  he  squeezes  with  all  the might he has  ,     forcing  himself  not  to  lift  her  right off  the  ground.            ❛❛  maker  ,     i've  never  been  so  happy  to  see  someone.  ❜❜           letting  the  hug  linger  for  a  moment  ,     he  eventually  pulls  back  to  look  over  her———delighted  and  fond  ,     still  seeing  his  kid  sister  there  ,     after  all  this  time.     thank  the  gods———well   .  .  .   thank  goodness  she's  still  alright.           ❛❛  i'm   .  .  .   here.     i'm  okay.     better  now  ,     suddenly.     don't  let  that  get  to  your  head  ,     though.     are  you  alright  ? ❜❜

evie would have plunged the damned dagger inside varric herself if solas hadn't done it for her, the way the dwarf had put her friend in harm's way despite the desperate pleas her ravens carried with them. she had to learn through morrigan and harding the fate the befell her old friend——the WEIGHT that now rested on his shoulders. the tasks that lay before him.

her heart practically leaped into her throat the moment she spots him enter the tavern with harding at his side.

❝ your hairs too long, ❞ her teasing voice cuts through the emptiness of the tavern. her fingers framed a mug of ale that she had been nursing as she waited for vic's arrival, but a drink she was quick to abandon as soon as he approached her.

the inquisitor wrapped an arm and a half around his neck, briefly dazed by the familiar scent of him and the rush of emotions that flooded back to her. he was fine. he was safe.

❝ how are you, victor? ❞

@erebius || plotted.

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everything in my queue is dragon age verse sorry LMAO

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the musketeers: 35/∞

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❛❛  so   .  .  .   the  hunger  thing.  ❜❜           how  does  one  approach  something  like  this  ?     shuffling  with  his  anxiety  ,     toe  of  his  boot  toying  with  the  dirt  below  ,     victor  finds  himself  wishing  being  in  charge  of  something  came  with  some  sort  of  guidebook.     chapter  three  ,     what  to  do  if  your  new  recruit  drinks  blood.           ❛❛  there's  not  going  to  be  any  problem  with  that  ,     is  there  ?     alternatively———is  there  anything  i  can  do  to  help  in  that  regard  ?  ❜❜

@ategods for mio ! veilguard starters !

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❛❛  nah.     i've  seen  a  lot  worse.  ❜❜           victor  notes  the  grimace  ,     offering  back  a  sheepish  look———he's  the  one  who  brewed  the  pot.     it  can't  be  helped.     he's  a  tea  man , after all.     sipping  at  his  cup  ,     A GRIMACE OF HIS OWN QUICKLY FOLLOWS  ,     and  he  pushes  it  away.           ❛❛  never  forget  ,     i  was  in  with  the  inquisition.     i'm  literally  friends  with  a  spirit  boy  ,     and  saw  corypheus  in  person.     not  to  mention  manfred.     you  and  spite  are  like   .  .  .   a  return  to  normalcy  ,     at  this  point.     ever  heard  that  one  before  ?  ❜❜

“ I thought so too. Guess we were both wrong. ” He closes his eyes momentarily as the bitter coffee runs over his tongue and down his throat, and Lucanis grimaces momentarily. Whoever made this was in dire need of a new lesson. “ What do you think about it? Are you . . . flipping your lid, as you say? ”

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——Fearless child, Broken girl; tell me what it's like to burn. ❞

#MARKBURDENED —— independent inquisitor trevelyan of bioware's dragon age: inquisition rp blog. written by bella. rules. bio. verses.

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jameson  leaves  without  so  much  as  a  kiss  goodbye  ,     and  victor  flops  back  onto  their  bed  with  a  huff  ,     consumed  by  the  picture  of  jameson's  eyes  staring  back  at  him  in  the  mirror.     he's  obsessed  ,     he  needs  him———he  loves  him.     god  ,     he  loves  him  ,     and  loves  this.     head  runs  wild  with  plans  for  the  day  ,     a  grin  breaking  wide  across  his  face.     if  that's  how  jameson  wants  to  behave  ,     today———victor  does  not  intend  to  let  him  down. 

later  ,     when  the  text  finally  comes  ,     and  it  feels  like  he's  been  waking  a  week:     victor  gets  to  work.     decorates  himself  in  a  lacy  black  set  of  lingerie  he'd  been  saving  for  a  special  occasion  ,     rubs  eyeliner  into  his  waterline  the  way  jameson  had  shown  him  ,    smudging  it  out  with  his  fingers.     makes  his  hair  perfectly  messy  ,     dims  the  lights———leaves  all  manner  of  toys  ,   ties,   and  belts  conveniently  in  reach  ,     and  adjusts  every  mirror  in  the  room  to  be  facing  the  bed  ,     a  perfect  view.     and  when  he  hears  the  key  in  the  door  ,     he  takes  position  sitting  on  parted  knees  atop  the  bed  ,     just  as  he  had  been  before  ,     waiting  with  utmost  impatience  for  his  lover  to  step  through  the  door.

serpent - hands run up temptation up his thigh, and jameson questions, for a brief second, why he wants to be a lawyer anyways. couldn't they be dirt poor criminals, and fuck all day, and pause for dinner, and fuck all night? no. his phone is buzzing, and his folds one hand in victor's hair and withholds him, and makes a show of checking his message ---- a good morning from the firm's partner to the case group - chat, a reminder of where to meet. nothing important. jameson slips his phone back into his pocket, and lets his eyes linger once more on victor. his foot, still between his lover's thighs, victor's face still rosy, his lips still pink and messy. " exactly. good boy. " he could kiss him again, but . . . the yearning is just as tasty. so he doesn't. in one movement, he withdraws his provocative hand, his well - positioned foot. to the mirror he goes instead.

polished, put together. the very image of the professional, razor - sharp. he's not even gonna be doing much today, besides managing notes and watching opening statements and a few witness testimonies from their plaintiffs. and honestly, even as jameson makes sure his hair isn't an absolute rat's nest, he's more watching victor in the reflection, watching the neediness of him, savoring it. only for a few minutes more. he turns to face him. " i'll text when i get on the subway to come home. don't disappoint me, baby. don't forget how i want to find you. " then, and again without a kiss ---- he's out the door.

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sunday thoughts: vic is the most submissive boy in the world UNLESS ur very big and powerful and/or in love with him. if vic thinks he could have extra special fun being more dominant or knows he's got u wrapped around his finger? he will surprise u every now and then. for example in one verse he's married to a literal king who is over 7ft tall and Thats his favorite person to have a dominant streak with LMAO

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having  looked  at  a  bottle  of  pills  with  that  same  wondering  more  than  once  or  even  twice  ,     victor  is  quick  to  deepen  his  worry  ,     even  quicker  to  take  the  bottle  back  when  jesse  discards  it———stuffing  it  into  a  pocket  ,     as  far  from  jesse  and  out  of  sight  as  he  can  make  it.     he  shuffles  closer  to  the  other,     then  ,     tempted  to  reach  out:     offer  anything  he  can  of  comfort  ,     even  if  it  is  just  the  touch  of  a  shoulder  ,     taking  a  seat  one  inch  closer  to  his  friend.     IT WON'T BE ENOUGH , HE KNOWS.     nothing  short  of  undoing  the  past  would  be  enough  ,     and  they  both  know  that  can't  happen.

when  jesse  speaks  again  ,     victor  nods———he  needs  no  explanation.     knows  the  strangeness  of  the  bond  between  mentor  and  student  ,     between  two  criminals  who'd  walked  back  to  back  into  every  situation———he's  living  it  himself  ,     a  terrible  parallel  that  makes  him  think  far  more  than  he'd  like  to  be.           ❛❛  right  ,     so  he  has  to  have  a  plan  ,    has  to  do  something.     god  fuckin'  knows  what  ,     though.  ❜❜      quite  frankly  ,     HE'S NEVER HAD MUCH FAITH IN WALTER WHITE  ,     and  this  is  making  him  have  even  less  of  it.     why  is  jesse  home  ,     why  is  nothing  happening  ?     were  it  him  ,     amos  would  have  carted  him  away  ,     locked  him  in  a  box  underground  ,     either  to  keep  safe  or  use  as  a  bargaining  chip.     amos  would  have  been  here  ,     an  armored  guard  waiting  for  peace  talks  ,     patrolling  their  land.     but  jesse's  alone  ,     save  for  victor  and  a  dozen  dozing  bodies  on  the  floor  inside.     it  makes  him  feel  a  little  sick.     maybe  that's  just  the  pills  ,     though.

jesse  closes  the  gap  between  them  ,     and  victor  leans  into  the  touch  of  their  shoulders  ,     a  silent  invitation———closeness  is  welcome  ,     here.     lean  on  me  all  you  need.     another  sigh  rattles  through  him  ,     and  he  wonders  how  many  times  he's  sighed  like  that  in  the  past  ten  minutes.           ❛❛  i'm  sorry  ,     jesse.     whatever  you  need  right  now  ,     i'm  down.     even  if  its  packing  a  bag  and  hidin'  out  somewhere.     i  can't  fuckin'  believe  walter's  not  here  right  now  ,     going  over  some  ten-step  plan.  ❜❜

like a lifeline thrown, the pill bottle is seized with eagerness and trembling hands only aid the rattle of its contents as he pours a generous collection into his palm. jesse throws them back like a shot, any hesitation or squeamishness surrounding pills with no fluids temporarily extinguished for a greater need. he would be lying if there wasn't a consideration, staring into the open mouth of the bottle, to rinse the rest. to go for a second handful, cupping the tiny tablets like a baby bird, and a third and a fourth and however many it takes. the thought sends a shiver down his spine, leading him to rid himself of the container as quickly as he'd reached for it. he daren't look at it anymore. ❛ yeah. ❜ his agreement for the direness situation is drily delivered, a spark igniting of that rage he experienced earlier. don't you think i know this is fucked, vic ? do you need to rub it in ? he manages to quell it this time, clasping his hands together and cracking his knuckles, forever fidgeting. detachment of his emotions from spreading to his very uninvolved friend, reminding himself of who the real culprits in this web are.

his paranoia matches vic's, on the rise as the substances dissolve into his system, baby blue gaze shifting left and right as if anyone is suspect. and, to some extent, they are. he finds it hard to explain ( or to justify ? ) the symbiotic relationship he and walt share, the innate trust he has in his mentor counter - balanced by doubt all the same. interestingly, he knows walt needs him. for what purpose remains to be seen, but one absolute truth that remains steadfast is that. walt would not kill him. that sets the standard, at least. the bar is on the ground. in the dirt, pushed in by an uncaring heel. ❛ without me, there is no walt. that's— that's just how it is. ❜ as if it were an algebraic formula, no rationale or equation he can use to fully categorise it. a shrug of the shoulders punctuates the silence for a moment, a deep breath taken in as the wave of effects from the pills starts to settle into his bones.

❛ well — you know, now, i guess. 's not exactly . . . somethin' i'm keen to mention at show and tell. ❜ the humour comes out empty, deflated. his posture is wilted, a plant devoid of water. they're a far cry from those days relinquished to jesse's makeshift couch, smoking the worries away, momentarily carefree. onto harder drugs, tougher tensions, the criminal's version of growing up. it feels hard to see a way out, defeat slumping him further into his seat until their shoulders lean unto one another. if he were in better spirits, he might at least be grateful for this small beacon of friendship amidst the turmoil. not that he wants to speak it into existence, but he fears this night of camaraderie might be their last.