#[ hands u this

[selfnss]

he hadn't expected visitors during his recuperation, much less the familiar silhouette of the very same man who managed to both save and doom the general in their stand off with the anti-matter legion. golden eyes are soft as jing yuan pushes himself into a more upright position - ignoring the ache that spreads throughout his frame and the bandages pulled taut 'round his chest making it hard to breathe. despite himself, it's a lopsided smile that meets dan heng from amongst the sheets and haphazardly fitted bed clothes.

"and to what do i owe this pleasure? have you come to check on an old man's recovery? i've been in worse battles, old friend, i am sure all will be well with enough rest. sleep does wonders for the body, you know." if he's talking too much, jing yuan doesn't notice it as a bandaged hand lifts to flick his hair out of his face in an absent movement. "but i doubt you've come here just to listen to my wittering on, hm?" // @timeveiled liked for a jing yuan

[bvlladonnas]

closed / @acosmicdisappointment, for whoever ! location / the golden beach street

the boardwalk has become esme's favorite place to be, recently. watching the sunset is peaceful, a nice reprieve from whatever the fuck her life has turned into recently, and the sound of the waves keeps her calm. armed with a good book and a rice krispie edible tucked neatly into her tote, she thinks she can take on the world. enough that for a split second she doesn't notice the figure falling into step beside her; that split second hardly lasts, of course, and esme's hand immediately falls to her pepper spray — before she lets out what feels like the deepest sigh of her life, " why the hell would you scare me like that ?! it's getting dark ! you could be a murderer ! "

[bypyre]

vision swims as blood clings to his skin beneath the pyro's shirt, gloved hands slick with the same cloying crimson fumble at the buttons as diluc stumbles across the threshold of his tavern. can't go home, can't let anyone there know what he gets up to after dark. they'll worry too much... or they'll tell one of the knights... or... or...

hip clashes with the corner of a table and diluc stifles a curse as white hot pain splinters up his side and through the fresh gash in his gut still bleeding and staining its way through pale waistcoat that he's sure he already shrugged off a few paces back... or was that his jacket? doesn't matter. he needs to stop the bleeding. needs to get at the damned thing so he can cauterize it. still, diluc fumbles at his shirt buttons - refusing to remove his gloves even as they fill with darkening crimson as his steps become more uncoordinated and dark patches appear in his vision.

"c'mon... c'mon..." another step has diluc bumping into the bar itself as his hands start to grow cold and numb. he doesn't notice the door creak open behind him, nor does he recognise the sound of familiar boots across his floors that are now spattered with crimson slowly starting to seep into the cracks between the boards. // @serosanguine for childe hehehe

[metapphjores]

south philly affirmations

[abelshot]

it isn't the first time they've found themselves in the middle of a shootout amongst the rubble and ruin of a town long forgotten and lost to the sands. it also isn't the first time that wolfwood's demanded the stampede leaves and lets the undertaker deal with their issue himself. of course, such an order was vehemently denied by vash as he stubbornly reloads his pistol and turns his attention back to the bounty hunters intent on getting their hands on the ever-growing fund that comes with vash's head.

dust settles around them, filling the air where it sprays from bullet holes missing their mark and hitting old, crumbling walls. blood rushes in vash's ears as he glances to the side where wolfwood sits across the alleyway from him, ducked beneath what remains of an old shop front. cerulean gaze is paired with pinprick pupils and a shake of his head. don't do it. he knows what wolfwood's usual tactic is - they also both know how low he is on those vials of his. he begs his friend and partner with the look in his eyes. let me figure this out - i'll find a way. don't go out there.

there's a lull in the cacophony of flying bullets and shrapnel as their hunters seem to understand they've not hit their mark yet. a glance, tentative in nature around the side of his chosen cover reveals the last thing the stampede had hoped for. they're advancing. there's at least six against the two of them. another glance towards wolfwood and a desperate expression. he can't shout like he wants to - can't plead with the priest not to do what they both know he wants to. vash raises a hand, palm out. stay there. please stay there. the hammer is pulled back on his gun. he has to act first - has to do something before wolfwood can act.

teeth grit and the stampede ducks out from behind his hiding spot, met with a hail of bullets as he scrambles to his feet and turns tail - leading the group further away from where wolfwood sits with the punisher. he will not let wolfwood get hurt because of him. not again. not today. / @wolfcross .

[lifesver]

nobody:

me curating the same playlist constantly:

[melodicbreeze]

@akithea​ ( closed starter. )

   After finally, the last abyss mage fell, Venti hadn’t paid much attention to where he was going when he stumbled away into the breeze. Functioning on autopilot, he’d assumed he would have gone to the tree at Windrise, to heal. 

Instead, when his vision cleared, confusion settled in when he saw he was on a dirt path, in front of stone stairs, in front of a mansion. The Winery...?

His knees buckled, then- he knew it was nothing life threatening, he just needed rest, so Venti didn’t fight his vision fading to black.

[mintaii]

had to draw him

[fortunesblade]

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　° @7thtalon “ You’re not the least bit curious? ”

"Now did I claim not to be?" He muse quizzically as he looked to the crow. Corner of lips curling into a smirk as he took a few steps backwards. Ringed hand lifting to curl beckoning fingers at the woman with a glint of mischief in his eyes. Telling her silently to follow. The moment they had eavesdropped on a pair of strangers, speaking in hushed whispers ( yet not quiet enough ) during a supply exchange between the Crows and Lords, Zahav could feel his current responsibilities slip away. His end of the job was complete after all. And his mates could wait about at the docks. "I am every bit curious against my better judgment. However, snooping from a distance won't satisfy my needs. I'm a visual learner."

A smile is cracked over handsome features, "Wouldn't you like a closer look?"

[selfnss]

the stench of blood clings to them both, chuuya's nose wrinkles as he shifts his weight and leans his partner more against him in order to fish the key to his apartment out of his pocket. stupid dazai. stupid, stupid dazai getting himself stabbed on chuuya's watch. stupid dazai and his bandages and blood he insists on spreading everywhere every time they're given a mission together. the door is kicked open and chuuya grits his teeth, pulling the taller mafioso over the threshold unceremoniously as every ounce of determination he has is put into ignoring the pained noises filtering their way between them.

the front door closes behind them with a click, the fatigue starting to inch further through chuuya's vision and muscles the longer he stands holding his partner upright over his shoulders. he's too light. dazai's taller, he should be heavier than this. chuuya knows he doesn't eat enough but... shut up. concentrate.

"don't you dare bleed on my carpet - or you're payin' for the refurb." despite his sharp words, chuuya's voice lacks the usual bite behind it - instead he focuses on picking his way towards the bathroom and unceremoniously dropping his partner onto the floor, leant back against the bath at the end of the room. the tiles are gonna need scrubbing by the time they're done. gonna need scrubbing again. he should start charging dazai for the cleaning bill. turning his back to the injured man, chuuya peels his gloves off and drops them in the sink - only noticing the familiar sensation of blood seeping through his clothes after he's slammed the first aid kit onto the counter.

shit.

hands lift, picking at his buttons as chuuya barks an order back to his partner. "shirt off. now." // @nonhumen

[hinamie]

10 years later

[dovewingkinnie]

i liked when dr harley sawyer was messing with u like a mouse type of guy to put u in a maze and watch u collect seeds

[389]

celine s diaz In_Between

[tawnysoup]

You both jump in place for a bit, grinning.

[abelshot]

@ofpowr asked: " why'd you have to do that? " cigarette hangs from his lips as the punisher lets it burn. he stares over the side of the ship, refusing to look at how much blood is splattered on the deck. his blood. and livio's. " why did you have to give me hope? "

it never changes. it never feels any different, watching bullets carve their way through flesh and bone - the acrid stench hitting him like a wall over and over again as the seed watches everything unfold in slow motion. the screams, the agonised cries of a man who's mind has been rewritten over and over and over again and vash realises - all too harshly - that he caused it. he insisted on it, he pushed wolfwood and livio. he wanted to help them both. he wanted to make it better.

so why does his skin feel too tight? why do his eyes burn and his mouth run dry as he stares squarely at wolfwood's back, between his shoulder blades, as if that would fix it like he wanted to in the first place?

pistol hangs heavy in his hand, shirt collar tightening as the stampede takes half a step forward before he stops himself. verglas hue, lopsided grin fill his vision for a split second before they're gone and vash is staring back at the aftermath of his own ideals.

why did you have to give me hope?

hope. vash wonders if he'd still ask that if he knew the truth. if he knew the way the poisoned thread of desperate hope has kept the gunman moving all this time. how it keeps tugging at his chest no matter his brother's lectures - no matter the slow crawl of guilt infesting the seed's insides, rotting him from the inside out. what is there, without hope? without hope for something different? without the hope of an ending - of something better?

"i..." cerulean gaze falls to the ground, watches the edges of crimson splatter start to crack and dry into the woodwork underfoot. he watches the blood slowly start to change colour, to fade to something dull and rancid like the way he feels inside. the guilt is familiar, it takes vash's hand and cradles it as fingers hesitate where they brush wolfwood's elbow, pushing him forward and holding him back all at once.

vash pulls his hand back, closing it into a fist in an attempt to stop the trembling. he looks up to the slowly changing colours of the sky above, eyelids becoming heavy.

"i'm sorry. i just wanted to help both of you."

[yuwuta]

whenever you and satoru have an argument, he holds your hand and he won’t let go until he’s certain you’re not mad anymore. you’re telling him off because he forgot to unpack the dishwasher again, and he knows that’s his fault and you have a right to be mad but he hates when you’re mad and even worse when you’re mad at him, so he does the first thing that comes to mind and laces your hands together. now you can’t leave and be mad at him alone, you have to be mad at him while he’s connected to you and satoru has learned that that far reduces the amount of time you spend mad at him. getting upset because he led you two in the wrong direction? holding hands until you’ve cooled down. upset with him for being reckless mid-fight? he drops his infinity just to be close to you, holds your hand and tells you the curse can wait, he needs your forgiveness more. mad at him because he forgot something important on his way home? you’re holding hands until you forgive him—which could be all the way until you go to bed, or dragging you by your connected hands with him to the store to pick up what was forgotten. you get irritated with him in public? he’s quick to hold your hands and beg for kisses. sometimes the first years see you steaming and satoru following you like a lovesick puppy, his leash being your laced fingers and megumi just sighs and explain to yuuji and nobara that, “they’re fighting. this is their get along tactic, just leave them be.”