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@honestartnerd

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kingsmanhart:
“Charming.” Harry had never been described as ‘bang-able’ before. In fact, he’d heard the youngsters mention it a few times, but the concept of wanting to bang someone was beyond him. “– I assume you are talking about Colin Firth?” Because he hadn’t heard that one before, in fact the incessant repeating from Eggsy tended to get on his nerves now. “I suppose I should be blessed I am not greying as bad as he is currently.”
“Yeah! That guy!” Clarence said with a wide but warm smile as he was reminded of the actor’s name. His brows raised and mouth warped into a smirk at the slight on graying hair. “Ballsy to claim to be better looking that someone like him but yanno...” He took a half step back, eyes squinting and scanning the older man, “...I think you could give him a run for his money...You got a really Edward Hopper aesthetic to you.”
“It’s the fault of the large strawberry fruitopia I had on the way here which gave me enough energy to climb through your window but more importantly, the motivation to find a bathroom.”
@meatfed continued from { x }

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Not to be Reproduced (1937) - René Magritte.
“No, no, no. Dude, you don’t understand. You can never meet my mom. She would marry you. Fuck that - she’d bang you. Like straight up take me right here kinda thing and I don’t want to think about it. You look just like one of the guys from Bridget Jones Diary and I swear to god that part in the movie where the two guys fight in the rain is her kink. I mean it’s a good part but like, she’s really into it.”
@kingsmanhart
meatfed:
“ Mmm… ” Hannibal came around from the couch and picked up the empty teacup from the coffee table. He was happy to see the young man was calming, comfortable on the cushions as the breeze from outside flowed in from the open window. Although the mild sedative was perhaps unconventional, it was better than the sight of Clarence burdened and Hannibal saw no danger in it. He was there to supervise him, nonetheless. “ It’s good to know you’re relaxing, Clarence, ” Hannibal leaned over, looking down at him. “ A good distraction from your studies, isn’t it ? If opera’s what’s on your mind, I could turn some on. ”
Hannibal’s face suddenly took the place of the ceiling, his skin warping just slightly in Clarence’s gaze. The distortion wasn’t drastic enough to make the man a living Picasso but just enough to leave the young man’s mind swimming. His body was a boat and everything his eyes touched was the rolling sea.
“Lay down a sick beat....DJ Lecter....MC Hanni...bawl. No. DJ Lecter all the way.”
Laid back across the couch, Clarence could feel the world sway despite being motionless. The ceiling curved before sliding back to it’s original pattern and then the other way. For several minutes he was transfixed by the swirls that made up his perception as if Van Gogh had personally fashioned it for him. A smooth voice fluttered through the dense air that surrounded the college student which he recognized vaguely but whose meaning was lost. The fragrant taste of tea still lingered on his tongue as he clumsily murmured.
“Dude.......Hear me out..........Opera....dubstep.”
@meatfed
Send me a ✍ and a character and I'll draw the character horribly on MS Paint.

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aesthetic
▓▓▓║ OPEN STARTER. ( tw: depression, anxiety, panic attack )
❝ … fuck. ❞
–it’s coming, it’s coming, it’s coming. He steps back until hitting the wall behind him. Pulse increases. Chest tightens. Alternating waves of hot and cold. ❝ I’m okay– ❞ he tries to reassure the other, but his eyes are already unfocusing. Feeling his knees go weak, Ezekiel sinks onto the ground. ❝ I’m okay, I– I’m okay– ❞ Now he’s chanting it through wheezes and strangled sounds as if trying to persuade himself.
You’d think that being several centuries old means finding a way to rid anxiety and depression. Or that you would gain immunity to it over time. But even magick and immortality have their limits. There are magick-realted possibilities of dealing with this, but it comes at too high of a cost in Ezekiel’s opinion– such as killing a person’s ability to experience emotions for an indefinite period of time. He’s not a fan of pain, fear, guilt, shame, and all the other negative emotions raging inside like a hurricane. But he would never sacrifice his own heart. Without his heart, he wouldn’t be the Keeper of Ash Haven. Human medication doesn’t have an effect on him. The simplest yet most powerful aid he’s missing is support. But as a Blacklisted witch cut off from the magick community, Ezekiel is isolated. And he sure as Hell would never burden any of the kids he watches over with his problems. So, he deals with it alone by burying it deep down.
But tonight, everything decides to claw its way out. If he was alone, this wouldn’t be as much of a problem. He’s spent countless moments locked up in a room, taken down under by a panic attack. But this is the first time in years it’s happening while he’s with someone. He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this. He feels too exposed, too raw. ( Why is he embracing of other people when they’re vulnerable, but overwhelmed by shame when his own vulnerability shows? ) ❝ Please– y-you– ❞ Ezekiel fights to get the words out. Breathing staggered, he covers his eyes with his hand. As if the darkness can make all this disappear. ❝ You need to go– ❞
“Dude, no offense but I don’t think you’re all that okay.” Clarence admitted as the man fell to his feet chanting. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure what to do while the man knelt on the floor. Slowly, he lowered himself down as well, sitting cross-legged with the other as his breathing became audibly fast.
He really didn’t know the guy. He had just finished washing his hands when the small ‘fuck’ left the other man. He had exchanged a few words to him him, nothing particularly exciting for bathroom chat but this was no longer a brief exchange in the bathroom. The man was having some kind of attack and it rattled Clarence’s chest with fear as he tried to come up with a solution to what was happening.
The words struggle to leave the stranger and Clarence shuffles closer, mindful not to get too close in case the man needed space. “Hey...” He said softly. “Hey...”
Reaching out, he gently set his palms over the man’s upper arms. “I can stay...I know I said you’re not okay but it’s okay not to be okay. If that makes any fucking sense. Everyone gets a little fucked up sometimes. It’s cool. You’re good, man. Freak the fuck out if you need to. I’ll be here...If anyone comes in and is like ‘what the fuck is he doing on the floor?’ I’ll be here with you and I’ll make them feel like the weirdo for not being on the floor, alright? It’s all good.”
Perfect smile.
[Part 2]

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Cutie.
There’s something that’s sexy about a guy who has the strength to kill somebody, but is also vulnerable enough to be in love. It’s just those two sides - like, I don’t know why, but women for some reason aren’t attracted to normal guys, like, guys who are in between.