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No parade in his honor was necessary, no flower petals in his face; his desired scenario was to perish on the property of Baskerville and become one with all of them, with the manor. It mattered not the person he was nor the things he said. He would turn to ash like the rest, covered in white snow. Perhaps a vase of forget-me-nots by his bed chambers tossed aside in a month, the same as the man before him. Even when his quiet, ghoulish figure wandered the manor, the petals of the forget-me-not would have all fallen and spread in the wind. Their seeds would be again planted and brood till next bloom. There would be no point in grieving them, for that would be preserving them, the embalming of long decayed ideas in another’s mind.
(Four short stories on Baskervilles.)
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Break didn’t know how to feel about that. He wasn’t fond of Vincent by any means, he was much less fond of him than he was Gilbert, but he felt that it was his duty to encourage patience instead of cruelty. Or, rather, patience when needed and cruelty when necessary. Vincent wasn’t terrifying and he wasn’t cruel, he was thirteen years old, though something about him implied that he would accept the world if it ended that very day with a sly smile and a “What can you do?”, as if he had been born for that event.
(On Children of Misfortune, Growth, the Cycle of Violence, and Showing Love).
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Witchers & Witches by TeamSeaSlug
Fandoms: Pandora Hearts, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
01 Aug 2020
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“And what if, at the end of all this, and we’re still together-” Vincent stretched out his hand on Gilbert’s bandages, laying the palm flat on his back, his red eye opening again to look at him- the slim, inhuman pupil adjusting once again. “- What happens when we run out of monsters?”
Gilbert scoffed, “There will always be monsters.”
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“I will miss you when you are gone,” he confessed in an awed whisper. Whether he meant it to the stars or to Break, he did not clarify, though everyone in the world knew that he meant both.
Break settled himself, casting his line out to the lake again. After hearing what Reim had to say, he did not speak for some time, choosing to listen to the deafening nothingness of the night instead of his friend. After the breeze rolling off of the lake gave him nothing that he wanted to hear, he responded, in a whisper of his own, “Shut up, Reim.”
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- Part 2 of PHWEEK2020
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He didn’t exactly know. He had a word that it could possibly be, but he didn’t want to say it, or think it. So he would ignore it, and pretend that the word didn’t exist, so he could tell himself that what he felt was indescribable, and not have to face his feelings.
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- Part 1 of PHWEEK2020
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He’s had awkward study buddies in college, work ‘friends’, hell, even his strained not-relationship with Sniper Wolf, but there’s something so easy and cool about living in close quarters with Snake, who’s pretty damn hard to read and honestly a little scary, but interesting as all hell. At least he’s never bored.
(Pre-relationship, set post-MGS1. The early days of Philanthropy, Snake and Otacon figuring each other out.)
Series
- Part 1 of Hello world
Bookmarked by TeamSeaSlug
19 Mar 2022
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A Wiser Fool by Sorrel
Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
22 Mar 2020
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"What are you doing?" Regis nearly cried, and Geralt looked up at him, impatient as a professor with an inattentive student.
"Taking a trophy. They'll never believe it otherwise. Hold him still, this is going to hurt and I've been bitten enough for one day."
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Bookmarked by TeamSeaSlug
19 Mar 2022
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There is no point in sleeping, not when neither dream nor darkness can compare to Asterius’ restful face. It is hard enough to keep his eyes from Asterius’ powerful body while they do battle together; afterwards, with his breath so calm in his chest and his limbs so soft and tired across the grasses, Theseus can scarcely restrain himself. Asterius looks the portrait of a hero, and gods, it sets his heart racing more frantically than even in the midst of combat. He longs to touch his chest and feel the sheer strength of it, to know it as intimately as he knows his own skin.
So he does.
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Bookmarked by TeamSeaSlug
14 Dec 2020
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“I owe you an explanation of what I said before, about the heroes Achilles and Patroclus,” Asterius starts.
“Nonsense, Asterius! You feel better now, do you not?”
“No.” Theseus’s eyebrows lift, and Asterius snorts. “Yes, I feel better. No, it is not nonsense.”
“Speak, then!”
“I know little of friendship. If we are friends—”
“We are! From the depths of my heart, we are!”
Asterius casts his gaze away briefly, focusing on the axe under his hands instead. Theseus is sincere as the sun, and can be equally difficult to look at.
“If we are friends, they do things we do not.”
After a chance encounter reveals what their bond could be, Asterius tries to navigate his feelings for Theseus, and seeks some advice.
Bookmarked by TeamSeaSlug
09 Dec 2020
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Not once prior had Gil seen his brother drink, not even under the ministrations of women to whom Vincent was inclined. Yet tonight, for whatever reason, Vincent had taken to as much wine as he could access and Gilbert learned their weakness to liquor was shared.
Working w/ the headcanon I have that Vincent is ALSO a lightweight/very weepy drunk. Keep in mind the pairing and tags.
EDIT [9/18/20]: Rewrote some and made a bunch of grammar corrections.
Bookmarked by TeamSeaSlug
01 Aug 2020