exnihilus

[exnihilus]

03 | NYC

(If this blog is deleted, find my main blog and art on AO3: archiveofourown.org/users/x57/profile and Pixiv: pixiv.me/x57 Copy the links, due to tumblr’s terrible linking system.)

[exnihilus]

MISTER GRAVES

♞.  

                 he has massive problems. he wants this unfamiliar place where he couldn’t see his enemies coming gone. he wants seraphina picquery hoisted off her throne for her law-making that showed grindelwald how FEARFUL she was, and him on it for he could do BETTER. he wants to do many things which he cannot achieve now and it frustrates him. graves is restless. and even if it is his birthday, it does not take away the turmoil in him, lingering on how it could soil the soul and deceive him as motivation.         graves coasts the streets in a pace filled with purpose, his natural gait quick as it was quiet to follow a grindelwald lead. as his eyes catch a lone, wandering form made smaller than it was instead, his breath dips down from his mouth in almost a sneer. credence isn’t far off and he reaches him in no time, stare cast round for anyone who might have seen them. a vice grip sinks into his arm and he apparates, ripping them away from the open and into an empty street. the edges of his sleeve peels off as he lets go abruptly, he doesn’t care in the moment if credence loses his balance.      ’  …they did NOT.   —is this how you entertain yourself while i’m kept busy? you WANDER AROUND OUTSIDE  where the eyes of macusa can FIND YOU?  do you know how MUCH i RISK each day i continue to let you stay with me??  ’

        even a blind man could see the trouble stirring inside, bones rattling in his closet. credence wishes he could take the pain away ( ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʙsᴄᴜʀᴜs ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ — ) but knows he must be good. he’s promised so much, become so much more than just this parasite ( ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪꜰ ʜᴇ sᴛɪʟʟ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇs ʜᴇ ɪs ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴀsɪᴛᴇ, ʟᴇᴇᴄʜɪɴɢ, ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ, ꜰᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴏꜰ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇs’ ᴋɪɴᴅɴᴇss ) . he wants to take the stress away, even if only for a moment, just to see the man’s eyes soften at a box of his favorite chocolate, a bottle of scotch ——

               no, ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ it fails. he only adds to the stress. 

         the air around him twists and his eyes shut ( ʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡs ᴛʜɪs sᴇɴsᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ) but it still startles him. a gasp of air as he catches his breath, stepping backwards a few times before he realizes the culprit. the only man that would have scared him to see more would be grindlewald himself. a voice stammers, struggles to formulate any consonants for a few moments. he’s stronger than this, he’s shown him he’s stronger than this.

                          “ I — I wanted t-to get you something ——  ”    ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴇᴀʀ ʜᴇʀ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ. sᴘᴇᴀᴋ, SPEAK — 

                                        “ for your birthday.  ”

[exnihilus]

@slitgraves

                          his ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ — how could mister graves not tell him of his birthday ? 

      it’s been mere hours since he stumbled upon the note and already he finds himself in a panic. after everything graves has done for him, he deserves the world served on a silver platter, yet, a boy without income, without purpose, without anything to call his own but the skin and bones that make him up — he won’t be able to live with himself if he is empty handed. he’s trying to think of something the man doesn’t already have, something he wants, when he’s spotted walking down the sidewalk. had graves gotten out early today? it can’t be. he’s never gotten out early. 

       he nearly has a ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋ when he’s approached, visibly jumping and taking a step back ( ʜᴇ’s ɪɴ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ, ʜᴇ ᴍᴜsᴛ ʙᴇ, ʜᴇ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴄʜᴏʀᴇs ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ) but he looks up to graves from the top of his eyes. he can’t lie. he’s a terrible liar. 

                       “ ..... did they let you go home early today ? ”

[exnihilus]

[exnihilus]

[exnihilus]

°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆  

               ❝ This isn’t the life I wanted, not the one I dreamed of, not the one I saw myself having. I dreamed of something better, something interesting, something worth while. I wanted something happy, I saw something divine. But even if this life of mine is SAD, MISERABLE, AND DULL it’s my life and I won’t let anyone else rule it besides me  ❞ || Original Character rp

[exnihilus]

Perfer et obdura, dolor hic tibi proderit olim.

Ovid

Translation: “Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you.”

(via wordsnquotes)

[exnihilus]

Percival.

           his eyes are tired, so, so very tired. it’s exhausting even when the beast takes control, wearing his body as thin as the wind he becomes. an ethereal mass, lost in a void of unmistakable black magic, sometimes visible to the human eye as a leaking, dripping, ᴅɪsɢᴜsᴛɪɴɢ darkness. black bits flutter through the air like ashes around them, weightless as if bits of paper caught in a breeze, though animated, vanishing from sight where more appear. 

      the obscurus has begun to felt like a sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ʙᴇɪɴɢ as he’s grown older. a beast with sharp claws and a voice of nails scratching on a wall, of unforgiving, relentless ᴡʀᴀᴛʜ. it represents everything that has made it become, the pain of his repressions, the suffering of his abuse, it feeds off of the emotion and uses him as a host to enact its terrible, terrible reign. ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ɴᴏ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴜɴɴᴇʟ ʜᴇʀᴇ, only darkness, but in the darkness he can see a man. the obscurus is only beginning to form, vision only slightly clouded as he looks upon graves, the color of his gray eyes starting their turn to white. his emotions have betrayed him and caused a stir, putting both of them ( ʙᴜᴛ ᴍᴏsᴛ ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴛʟʏ, ᴍɪsᴛᴇʀ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇs ) in danger. 

       eyelashes flutter closed as a warm touch contrasts his pale, freezing skin. his body is convulsing as he shakes, the uncontrollable monster ripping him apart from the inside out and causing him to rattle. though he trembles he presses his cheek into percival’s hand, nose tucking into his palm, nuzzling what feels so familiar, so good, what takes him away from the nightmare. 

             ʜᴇ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇs ʜɪᴍ. ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ ɪᴛ. ʜᴇ believes ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ ɪᴛ.

                          ( ʟɪᴇ̠̯̯̜̯͖͈s,̮̗̩ ̞̼ʟ̼̺̻̬̪͔͇ɪ̦̗͍ᴇ͇̹̝̬s̘̹̖̼̜̦, ͓̱̱ᴍɪs͔͙͕̞̣ͅᴛ̠̗͉ᴇ͕͈ʀ̣̣̫͙͖ ɢ͓̝̼̦ʀ͈͚̜͍̦ᴀ̳̗̩̟̫ͅᴠ̠̘͔̗ᴇ̮̱͓̝̲͙s.̙̮ ̤ᴡ͇̱͔ʜ̹̠̖̩ʏ̻̩͓͔̤ ͇͎̞͔̬̜ᴅ͚̜̜̲̝ͅᴏ̖̤ ̹ʏ̮̘̘͈̮̮ᴏ̪ᴜ̬̱̪̠͚͖ ̼̖͖̳ʟ̠̣̙̻̩̳ɪ̝̲͕ᴇ̮̮͔͍ ̻͓ᴛ̩̳̩ᴏ̬̟̙̻̹̞ ͔̩̞̯̺͇͖ʜ̬̦̥̲̰ɪ̻̳ᴍ ? )

        when his eyes open, they are pure white, hardly a remnant of his iris left, if any. the boy reaches a hand forward and allows his fingertips to make contact with graves’ skin ( ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ᴡᴀʏ ꜰᴏʀ ʜɪᴍ ) as if to make sure he is really there. the pain has reached a plateau that credence tells himself he can bear even if only to show graves, to prove to him ( ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪᴍsᴇʟꜰ ) that he can survive this agony. he has done it before, he has learned to tear himself away from it ( ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴ, ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ʜɪs ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴ ) and to give himself in: but is it truly ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ ? 

          “ it hurts —— ”  his voice chokes beneath the shadows, touch ever-so-slowly falling from caressing graves’ cheek and lips, eyelids flickering against the obvious battle going on beneath his skin. he’s silent for some time, shoulders hunching and body moving closer to graves, and the entire mass of ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ shifts closer, beginning to engulf their embrace. it is careful not to touch graves, though it seems like a leashed animal, snapping close and drifting away without making contact. 

                                                                  “ i won’t let it hurt you. ”

[exnihilus]

me: aawww jay’s back me: oh look at. all. these. angsty. asks. me: yeah, jay’s back. me: WHAT A BISCUIT.

         &&. @exnoctis wow heck u, i’m gunna kill shiro’s lion >:c as payback elsewhere

[exnihilus]

game of thrones ►season 6 prompts  (part 1)

a good helping of (slightly edited) quotes from season 6 episodes 1-5 of game of thrones for you to use as starter sentences!

“And now it begins.”

“I need you by my side.”

‘We all fail sometimes.”

“You will not receive a better offer.”

“The time has come to join the fight.”

“Move your ass.”

“You can always trust me.”  

“I have nothing to confess.”

“It’s beautiful beneath the sea, but if you stay too long you���ll drown.”

“That’s your problem, not mine.”

“Stop crying and look at me.”

“You can’t make me leave.”

“Is there a cure?”

“You can’t protect me, so I don’t need you anymore.”

“I risked everything for you, and you betrayed me.”

“He’s gone.”

“How do you like your eggs?”

“You’re family. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Do you remember the first time you saw a dead body?”

“Next time I have an idea like that, punch me in the face.”

“Isn’t it frustrating to want someone who doesn’t want you back?”

“I love you. I’ll always love you.”

“Many will die no matter what we do. Better them than us.”

“I wish I could change everything.”

“Do not betray me.”

“You’re a greedy bitch, you know that?”

“Welcome home.”

“There’s so much good in all of us.”

“Don’t go, you idiot.”

“I’m tired of fighting.”

“Yes, it’s in the past. But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten.”

“We need each other right now.”

“I made a horrible mistake.”

“Knowledge has made you powerful, but there is still so much you don’t know.”

“Everyone is what they are for a reason.”

“I should have been born a king.”

“That cannot happen. That will not happen.”

“You’re paler than milk.”

“We make peace with our enemies, not our friends.”

“What is dead may never die.”

[exnihilus]

Ominous statement generator

month born in jan - the owls feb - the stars march - your enemies  april - the obelisks  may - the crystals june - the secrets july - the crows aug - your teeth sep - the curses oct - the eyes nov - the trees dec - the caves

eye color brown - do not know you green - are not what they seem hazel - cannot reach you blue - are gone when you look away grey - plot revenge other - are not lost but waiting

[exnihilus]

Percival.

♞.  

                  in no time, his gaze had drifted to the wood piece where he put his hands, closed-knuckled on the surface. unlike him in all proportions. unlike someone who waits, watches and judges others for their mistakes. credence wasn’t one to point out his flaws, but the way the tired bulk beneath his sleeves flex and his fingertips drum, aimless against cherry wood would call the boy precisely to the conclusion. his eyes flit weakly to the mirror, gaze peppering the space between them. at the very least, he’s pleasantly struck by the eye contact, brow creasing slightly as he wonders about the colour of his hues.        ’  it’s nothing to worry about, boy.  ’  graves sounds rough from the day, never at him. graves kicks off from the spot, turning to near him. he takes a thin pack of chocolate out of his coat, the width of a galleon and filled with four columns of 15 of the best chocolate with the most wonderful centers: orange, peanut butter, creamy whites, and whiskey. he holds it out to credence.  ’  for you. ‘ 

        it’s the same, dreary gaze that watches percival’s behavior, the look he always has, head tilted a bit toward the ground in nervous habit, even if his assurance is true. even if he seems to face the ground his eyes stay upon graves, holding an eye-contact he may never have proven capable of. it’s concern that allows himself to push aside selfish loathing, a comfort with the man before him more than any other.

        he could be quiet, accept the vague answers he always does. deep down he wants to protest, to tell him just how much he will worry — even when he’s gone, the man consumes his thoughts, wondering exactly how his day is going, ɪꜰ ʜᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ. 

        the chocolate is a quick distraction, but a good one. lips part with humbleness that would normally never accept such a sweet, but from graves’ hands, he can’t manage to resist. eyes twinkle with delight and there’s a remnant of a smile, a real, genuine smile, taking the pack slowly, hesitantly, as if it would evaporate into thin air and prove to be a rouse. as he looks upon the chocolates his anxiety comes back for a second round, looking up to percival. he pauses before he speaks, putting some thought into what he says, or if he should say it at all.

                      “ ......... I always worry, ᴍɪsᴛᴇʀ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇs. ” 

[exnihilus]

Trust me, my boy. 

[exnihilus]

PERCIVAL.

♞.

                     credence admits it without knowing. he admits by extension that he is concealing something from him—–no matter how big or small, graves wants to know. and when he wants something, he never lets go. the heady weight of anger begins to simmer just beneath his ribs; credence is not as convincing as he thinks he is. perhaps he has to learn—-that graves will always have his way.         ’  so you ARE. HIDING. something.  ’   he is NOT happy, his voice a gruff growl in close proximity to credence. the boy’s legs quiver into his touch, he feels him push himself into his hand and graves appeases him once. fingers chase the arousal between his legs, sliding over fabric not yet peeled away. he runs up his length, pulling with a twist of his hold as much as he could, toying with his eagerness and buck-ready hips, needing him to strain and yearn all at once.         he likes him too much, and he almost purrs it but he’s not that expressive with compliments—-not verbally. he was selfish, graves, sliding his mouth over his; scorching, warm, full of his daring need to take him hard with the thighs of the younger man beside his flanks. his palm, rough but not calloused, moves to fill itself with the side of a smooth jaw. he does not want to pull away from it yet. credence is playing with fire, reaching his hand down the strong mounds of his back, almost to where it excites him. body above him and silk pants tied at his pelvis, he almost lets credence feel the flex in his abdomen with each hard, heavy breath.         lips drive against lips until he presses tighter, sinking the deep cut of his hip bone lower. he tilts forward with a casual, greedy shift, and the crook of him brushes just lightly against credence, still soft from the lack of stoking friction. he’s a teasing devil, and he’d like to get away with it too.

       credence knows better than to keep something from mister graves — he should, that is — he knows when the man wants something, ʜᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ɢᴇᴛ ɪᴛ. there is no debate, no compromise. credence is always happy to provide, engraved into his nature at this point through his childhood. he’s always been something short of a slave, given nothing but the gratitude of ( ᴀɴ ᴜɴsᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ) roof over his head, ( ʜᴏʀʀɪʙʟᴇ ᴛᴀsᴛɪɴɢ ) food, a minimum living standard replacing the loving family every other child his age seemed to have. graves treats him like a prince now, though he knows it comes earned, tasks throughout the day keeping him busy and graves happy. a symbiotic relationship.

       there’s a soft ‘ ɴɴɴ ‘ sound of denial in the back of his throat, hardly loud enough to expose. as distracting as the touch is, he can’t get the disappointment of graves’ voice out of his head — thighs quiver and, though lay open for the man above, seem to struggle to avoid closing and latching around the man’s wrist and holding his touch there. lips lay open and his breathing picks up, nearly panting softly under his breath for more. the boy’s back arches underneath to fit graves’ body, every crook filled with the warm touch of his skin. 

       fingertips press into the man’s skin as finally he’s graced with a kiss, just as rough and dominant as he wanted it, needed it to be. he doesn’t want it to end, and knows if he doesn’t give graves what he wants it all could come crashing down — the words dance atop his tongue as he refuses to pull back even to breathe, lingering whenever the touch abandons him. his grasp digs when he feels ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀ ᴛᴇᴀsᴇ, spreading his legs to give the shape a home, somewhere to fit into the inside of his thigh. even just feeling it against his skin drives him mad, the kind of forbidden touch he’d never had before and now can’t get enough of.

          “ It.... ”  he breathes into the man’s lips, nervously, erotically.   “ It’s my b — birthday soon... ”  he won’t tell him when just yet. he needs some kind of leverage. chilled toes curl into silk sheets, fingertips delve lower and lower into uncharted territory, though he doesn’t misstep his boundaries. he wants to give himself entirely to percival, as long as the man is willing to take.

[exnihilus]

PERCIVAL.

♞.  

                  he had reached back, arm slicing the air to the door in the middle of it swinging shut too forcefully. he just manages to claw at the handle, stopping the door from slamming in the nick of time. a heavy click of brass. it closes much more controlled than the hammering in his own chest. graves has heard credence from the start, but his own reflection catches his attention in the hallway mirror and he feels compelled to stop, glance beginning to hollow. stress coats his vision, weighing his sleeves down.        ’  scoundrels…..that fall through the doors of macusa every day. they never seem to know how to leave…  ’   he was not against foreign bodies. this wasn’t a personal blow. it was deeper, went through the years in service that’s taken the halo off his head….. it was about the pride he had for his country.  

        if anyone would notice graves’ change in appearance, it would be someone close to him. possibly someone at ᴍᴀᴄᴜsᴀ, a partner, the person who serves him coffee every day — credence feels he’s earned a spot into this tight knit circle of companions graves keeps ( ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴀʟʟ , ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇs ᴡᴀᴋᴇ ᴜᴘ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴅ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ ᴅᴀʏ ʙʏ ᴅᴀʏ ) . he’s always been so quiet, he would never dare to intrude, but curiosity has become concern. his eyes manage to stay on graves, even the startling close of the door, the bitter tone not ripping through his contact aside from a quick flutter of his eyelids. 

             “ what do you mean ? ” he wants to approach him, to take his jacket from his shoulders and push his face into his neck, to get him to just ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ about all of it even if only for a moment, but that would require confidence he doesn’t yet have. ᴏɴᴇ sᴛᴇᴘ ᴀᴛ ᴀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ.  it’s hard to not see himself as just an inconvenience on the man’s life ; he never asked for an ᴏʙsᴄᴜʀɪᴀʟ to take board in his manor. then again, he’s never asked him to ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ, either.

[exnihilus]

@slitgraves [ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ sɪɴɴɪɴɢ ]

     maybe he’d been sʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ɪɴ far too often, allowing graves all of the sᴏᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. the man deals with a plethora of strangers, people credence has no interest in becoming acquainted with ( ɪs ɪᴛ sᴏᴄɪᴀʟ ᴀɴxɪᴇᴛʏ, ᴏʀ ᴊᴜsᴛ ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴠᴇʀsʏ ? ), and yet the problems seem to ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ more often than he’d desire. it’s a wonder, or maybe a development, that he has the courage to speak his inquiries. 

              “ mister graves, ” a quiet tone breaks through,   “ ... ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ... ? ”