credit. side-blog to halfsovl. same rules apply as posted there. primarily for npcs, test muses, one-shots, edits, and lore-posting. do not reblog edits unless you're a mutual, please. muselist, however, not all are listed.
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@loresovl
credit. side-blog to halfsovl. same rules apply as posted there. primarily for npcs, test muses, one-shots, edits, and lore-posting. do not reblog edits unless you're a mutual, please. muselist, however, not all are listed.

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Unsorted caps from all seasons of Preacher.
Ft. Dominic Cooper, Joe Gilgun, Ruth Negga, Ian Colletti, Graham McTavish, Pip Torrens, Mark Harelik and more.
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ALCIDE. It's called being piss-shit drunk, Jason. Of course, that wasn't ever an excuse, but.. excuses were running thin. thinner than his patience, thinner than the line of how far he'd want to go and how much he wants to stop, and if he will at all. What matters is jason holds still; if he keeps wriggling.. if he keeps moving.. mmf, mmff.. "I said " he practically headlocks the blonde in place, pressing him against the wall, dick pulsing between his thighs.
Practically edging him with every breath, the little bastard. "Shh...shh... huff.. huff.." This.. didn't feel like it was making anything any better, in fact, it feels like some sick joke just to get him off, but he's never been more serious. Maybe if Jason's heart wasn't going a mile a minute he wouldn't have to feel the other's heart beating right below 'is god damn taint. "Fff...ff.." Well, so much for holding still.
Alcide's the one practically bucking between Jason's balls, cock sliding right between 'em, dwarfing 'em. Jesus, he could've warned Jason at least! "fuuu..huhu.... shit..." Something is not right with him. He's too carefree, like he's in a stupor. Tonight's a crescent moon, maybe that's it? The three gallons of moonshine in his system isn't helping. At least that's ov sniff. A nice, deep whiff. Smells like petrol, a bit of rubber, cologne, a man. Alcide liked the smell. A nice contrast to the peach n' water that was his sister's. Even washed, the faint smells, the lingering touch.. speaking of touch... up n' down the chest, sudsy, groping... "I can hear your blood pumping, y'know?" oh jesus christ..
@taleswritten FOR JASON
[ Kingdom Hearts 3 ]

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DEX. ππππππππ. "Do you actually give a fuck?" Drawing circles with the tips of his boots along the mess of flesh and gore he's left. Same ol same ol', a wannabe kingpin, thought himself bigger than the rest, too small to notice, but a mouth is like a lighthouse. People flock, they look to that light, not realizing they're a target. "No, really, I keep wondering if you're faking the bleeding heart shit sometimes." Did he sound a little happy? A little joyful? Just a smidge warm?
"Been thinking about you." Mainly how it'd feel to watch the light leave his eyes. Does he have eyes? Is there light in there? "Think you've been ignoring me lately. I don't like that." He usually keeps things flashy n' bloody, but business is good lately. No time to really let his work shine. "Do I need to p/pebomb a school or set a church on fire, c'mon, Red. A man has needs."
"I don't wanna stray." To someone else. To make some other martyr hero's life feel like living hell. Plus, he loves what they have. What they are. "We need a date night. Jus' you, me, an' a family of three. Watching." @rejectory
Art trade I did with @el-crafts of their handsome boi Eros!
I STILL LOVE THIS SO SO MUCH, I CANT STOP LOOKING AT IT TEHEHEHE
Here is my half of the trade featuring his^^ very cool polites design π€π
The Just A Man (Antinous Version) animatic it's finally done!
I hope you guys enjoy it, it was so much fun, and thank you so much Ayron Alexander for his amazing cover of the song
ππππππ π πππ. "birds of a feather." of course, a little jab. nothing could be right without at least one of them going for the eyes. always nice to reminisce on the times, trying as they may have been. always a thorn at his side. always ready to throw himself to the fire, always ready to be the lamb who didn't run scared from the slaughter.
oh, but he thought about it too, just not in such detail. in his mind, matt murdock was a fly, hard to catch, but when he did, just one crunch. just one. it was unpleasant, really. the thought of crushing a fly between his fingers. dirty, even. on some level, there's shame. to kill a blind man, personally, at least, has to evoke some sense of.... mm, no, it doesn't. he knows, fisk knows. this one wants you to look down, to watch where you step, as if he were just some mild mannered attorney.
fisk licks his lips, looking around as if stifling a laugh. "you are.. a viper, mr. murdock." he can't help but laugh. his smile's from ear to ear, shiny and dripping with venom. like a lion that shows its teeth before he bites down. blind man or not, he never felt stronger eyes on him, save for gao. "surely, in our america, there is no such thing." he drops the smiles, the decorum, he speaks plainly. "he has a death wish. judge kapernaki, he's dying. cancer. stage three." of course, he just happens to have access to private medical records. "i looked." that's why threats don't work. what's the threat of death to a dying man. a promise.
". . . ." and given that little admission of crime. "i accept." welcome, mr. murdock.
ding! "ah, lunch. hungry?" he didn't wait for a response. "double it. for my friend."
he didn't bother smiling. his face stayed watching. this man doesn't deserve faux smiles and petty offerings. even now, this meal wasn't a gift, it was a door. you walk in, you sit at his table. you live in his life, as long as he allows you.
His entire purview of the situation is thrown off.
Heβs feeling like the ostracized lanky kid in the cafeteriaβwhere the bully is his own senses. He can smell the internal eating of cancer easy, the moth pattern of puffy overgrowth to not just make up for the cell loss, but replace it.
Only he never met Kapernaki in person. Christ.
In the drag of barely coming to terms with missing a crucial piece in the puzzle Fisk had all along, Matt didnβt notice the food. Duck.
βYour whole life youβve profited off of peopleβs suffering.β
Fiskβs musk unfurls in the layers of a perfume sample all throughout the premises. Heβs been enjoying mobility perks far beyond the scope of his fellow inmates, because that would be beneath him. Viciously, Matt wants to shrink his cage, make him sit, roll around in the blood and shit heβs slid here on. Fisk accepting also means heβs desperate.
For a beating. Yeah, likely.
βBut Iβm the viper. Word to the wise, insanity defenseβs really not your ticket to freedom here.β
ππππππ π πππ. as the suit his lawyer wears on his back and the red shades that hide those milky-dull eyes were made by a woman half-drowned sweat and working for dimes, probably. he could say all this and more, but the food arrives, and his attention is drawn elsewhere. mm, chicken. "victory often looks like evil from the bottom." more venom, clearly a jab at how matt wastes his talents defending the little man, when the world itself is so much larger. pro bono until the day he dies, fisk is sure.
"think yourself better." men died for less. "trading comfort and success for muck. how is the light bill?"
not exactly a good brief, but better than talk of settlements and reminders that he is now bound by attorney client privilege but what's more worth in the long run? fisk in jail? again? maybe the upgrade to maximum can with fucking hulu t.v. instead of whatever trash is on apple. even now, he's in this cell of his own volition. a show of respect and love for the law. that he will fight corruption the right way. it almost sounds like a mythical rise... perfect for a mayoral run, oh, senator? president? god.
"insanity? i've had to do many things, mr. murdock, but debase myself is not today, or ever an option. if this is the best you have for council, i'll take my other lawyer. looks alone won't keep you on payroll, neither will pity with a jury." but please, do play up the poor blind, very much not near-lethal nightstalker of criminals.
"don't let your food get cold. i recommend the bourbon sauce."

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SEAN MAGUIRE Meet the Spartans (2008)
ππππππ π πππ. "forgive me if i'm overly cautious, mr. murdock " he has every right to be. standing in the face of the devil himself, dead little eyes, judging every action, moral and otherwise. even now, he knows those eyes see him. they see him. only he doesn't see them, not truly, not yet. it didn't matter though. one righteous son was all new york needed. fisk will allow it. "we were never on the best of terms, you and i. in fact, i remember one or three times you've tried to throw the very same book at me that this bull-headed, antiquated, little man."
he doesn't trust you. however, if his intuition is right, fisk understands. "justice? still?" as if he expected the response to change. to live in the great country that they do, and still believe in justice. many a miscarriages of it in barely a year, and still. he can't tell whether it's impressive or a sign of mental decline. worrisome, especially because he's considering.
@rejectory
An alien notion for someone like Fisk to wrap his fucked-up head around, heβs sure.
Rapid-fire so he doesnβt think,
βThe Sixth Amendment guarantees the right to due process and an impartial jury.β
Fiskβs heart is leagues meatier than average. All the TRT it pumps through on the daily, itβs as close to humanly engineered for as any could be. Heβs got the inches and pounds on Matt, but not the aim. The mania.
It would only take that much folding for him to maybe-daze Fisk with a blow to the head. The cops posted outside placing bets on tonightβs Mets game are an unequal toss-up between turning a blind eye to him roughing Fisk up and not letting Matt Murdock walk these halls ever again undisbarred.
Officer Kumar, in particular, has a vendetta because of his late brother. But heβs in the minority. Most of them are indirectly billed by Fiskβs dirty money.
βIt says nothing about the judge.β
ππππππ π πππ. "birds of a feather." of course, a little jab. nothing could be right without at least one of them going for the eyes. always nice to reminisce on the times, trying as they may have been. always a thorn at his side. always ready to throw himself to the fire, always ready to be the lamb who didn't run scared from the slaughter.
oh, but he thought about it too, just not in such detail. in his mind, matt murdock was a fly, hard to catch, but when he did, just one crunch. just one. it was unpleasant, really. the thought of crushing a fly between his fingers. dirty, even. on some level, there's shame. to kill a blind man, personally, at least, has to evoke some sense of.... mm, no, it doesn't. he knows, fisk knows. this one wants you to look down, to watch where you step, as if he were just some mild mannered attorney.
fisk licks his lips, looking around as if stifling a laugh. "you are.. a viper, mr. murdock." he can't help but laugh. his smile's from ear to ear, shiny and dripping with venom. like a lion that shows its teeth before he bites down. blind man or not, he never felt stronger eyes on him, save for gao. "surely, in our america, there is no such thing." he drops the smiles, the decorum, he speaks plainly. "he has a death wish. judge kapernaki, he's dying. cancer. stage three." of course, he just happens to have access to private medical records. "i looked." that's why threats don't work. what's the threat of death to a dying man. a promise.
". . . ." and given that little admission of crime. "i accept." welcome, mr. murdock.
ding! "ah, lunch. hungry?" he didn't wait for a response. "double it. for my friend."
he didn't bother smiling. his face stayed watching. this man doesn't deserve faux smiles and petty offerings. even now, this meal wasn't a gift, it was a door. you walk in, you sit at his table. you live in his life, as long as he allows you.
ππππππ π πππ. "forgive me if i'm overly cautious, mr. murdock " he has every right to be. standing in the face of the devil himself, dead little eyes, judging every action, moral and otherwise. even now, he knows those eyes see him. they see him. only he doesn't see them, not truly, not yet. it didn't matter though. one righteous son was all new york needed. fisk will allow it. "we were never on the best of terms, you and i. in fact, i remember one or three times you've tried to throw the very same book at me that this bull-headed, antiquated, little man."
he doesn't trust you. however, if his intuition is right, fisk understands. "justice? still?" as if he expected the response to change. to live in the great country that they do, and still believe in justice. many a miscarriages of it in barely a year, and still. he can't tell whether it's impressive or a sign of mental decline. worrisome, especially because he's considering.
@rejectory
πππ ππππππππ. "ha ha ha ha! oh, oh, I know, this is funny, you must've confused me for my brother, who's stupid. and easily gives away his goods. Ah, you can find him somewhere, actually! but not here. perhaps, in yugo slavia?" y'catch his drift, or does he need to be more clear? "no, stranger. you're short." penny pinching, in this corner of hell? yeah.
"this isn't a charity, so. what else you got?" cue the jingle of the vials. this had to be premium, but.. some form of self-preservation had to be screaming 'think twice, leon!' but there was no telling when this operation would over, much less w wait a second, how did he know?
silence follows. their eyes meet. "i am observant." ....? meaning? "s'the chest. got me thinkin'. and gave you away."
this guy was either a criminial, a kook, or both. wouldn't really shock him if it was both. the blonde's eyebrows furrowed as he was asking for more. ---- ? ? ? ? ? what else does he have?
he'd gotten a bit lazier, and honestly he'd been in spain far too long. his own health and his own way of presenting had fallen a bit wayside because his main focus was ashley. blue eyes narrowed in disdain towards the merchant. " fine, let me see what i've got. but eyes up here, buddy," his hand gestured up to his face, a snarl of a glare to attach to his warning.
he's been holding onto a few more things, but mainly because he knows they'll be worth more once he completes sets. jewels are also pushed onto the table. " there. don't be pervy. you should give me a discount for your observation. "
πππ ππππππππ. "honest mistake, it'sa' bit lonely out here. heheh." blech.
as for what else is in the vault.. a lot of things. there's a t-virus sample somewhere in there, no doubt. this man.. even his eyes betray age, but his hands are smooth and young. couldn't be over 30, much less near 40s. physically, at least. he knows this place like the back of his hand, and can seemingly move completely undetected in the light of day. the people here know him. infected? can't be. he's got his senses, he's sane and hell, maybe he is infected, because these prices are suddenly real shit.
"hm." he takes a gem or two, eye balling it with a keen, cautious gaze. "short." first rule of bargaining, you don't show you entire hand, leon. "discount? hahah! discount?! he wants a discount! oi, brother! he wants a discount!" cue the second merchant walking from the mysterious door near the b two?! "tell 'em t' sod off, an' take his little rocks with 'em too! hahah!" well. that explains a few things, at least.
"listen, i know y'clearly need my wares, but you're not bringing much t'the table." oh for the love of.. just shoot him. "ah, if y' shoot me, understand, that there's 'nuff here for 'bout a few days, and that'll mean these doors will be shut t'you forever, so.. none of that now." just in case. gun happy americans n' all. can't be too careful.
"how's about a deal?" finally, they're getting somewhere. "3 minutes. jus' t'feel ya'." nevermind, shoot him. shoot him "jus' my hands, nothin' else." christ. "i'll throw inna' upgrade fer' free, and i'll give ya' a real discount. seventy off the top. offer expires soon, so act quick."

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THE MERCHANT. "Friend, I couldn't help but notice this here place is a tad.. isolated. Might be hard t' get certain remedies, balms, n' more. At least, s'what I would say.. if I were a lesser tradesman!" What the fuck is he GOD, HE'S FLASHING HI oh, it's literally just chilled T-shots. Well. That's handy. "Fifty pestas, I'll throw inna' frag for free." @loresovl
he's not sure what to expect. the hooded figure usually has random deals, but when he's offered the vials, he puts his hand out to inspect them. sure as shit, it definitely was. he wasn't going to ask how. mainly because he needs to not be weak and not being on testosterone has made this significantly harder.
" fifty? " he confirms, looking at his current items he has. shit, he really does need it. could he sell anything? shit, he hasn't really been using his shotgun lately. he slides the shells onto the table and the rest of his money. " uh, hm... trade plus the rest of what I have sound good enough? "
πππ ππππππππ. "ha ha ha ha! oh, oh, I know, this is funny, you must've confused me for my brother, who's stupid. and easily gives away his goods. Ah, you can find him somewhere, actually! but not here. perhaps, in yugo slavia?" y'catch his drift, or does he need to be more clear? "no, stranger. you're short." penny pinching, in this corner of hell? yeah.
"this isn't a charity, so. what else you got?" cue the jingle of the vials. this had to be premium, but.. some form of self-preservation had to be screaming 'think twice, leon!' but there was no telling when this operation would over, much less w wait a second, how did he know?
silence follows. their eyes meet. "i am observant." ....? meaning? "s'the chest. got me thinkin'. and gave you away."
Gladiator Polites!! Was listening to the song that I ended up using for the speedpaint below and was inspired to do like a cool fighter Polites drawing but also wanted to actually try and make one of those chaotic cool Backgrounds. I think I did pretty well! So the idea is Polites is fighting as a gladiator and acting under the ferocity blessing of Ares To the person who requested Gladiator Polites, eat well uwu
The song is called "Kupala" by TRILTAPE btw