cant sleep bcs im thinking about the fact damon wrote "sweet song" while crying over a pic of graham.
seen from Venezuela

seen from Malaysia
seen from China

seen from Russia
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Pakistan
seen from United States
seen from China

seen from Georgia
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from Singapore
seen from Pakistan

seen from Italy
seen from China
seen from China
cant sleep bcs im thinking about the fact damon wrote "sweet song" while crying over a pic of graham.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚, at the bottom of the fortress proper - he can feel the thrum of water around them, the tender caress and price of what lurks beneath the surface. here though - it speaks no joys, too in tune with the behaviors of it's master - the mood, that darkens the hydro sovereign's cloudy skies. his sensitive ears pick up on too much. the whirring of many gears within the fortress itself, the click of his own heels across steel as he paces, the steady tick-tock of one of the many clocks in the office, and finally... wriothesley's heartbeat, strangely so slow and even, when neuvillette's was jack-rabbiting in his chest. why was the duke's not doing the same? should it not be doing the same? he didn't understand.
and yet, ethereal features remain impassive, the hidden candor of his gaze peering up through blue tinted lashes at the warden. silence reigns supreme between them, heavy as the pressure of the water outside, and neuvillette... a furrow ticks between his brows, as he works to process what he feels - works to understand why his chest feels so damn tight. wriothesley makes things so complicated. emotions were indecipherable on the best of days... but throw in their... situationship, and the chief justice was well and truly up a creek without a paddle. and that was saying something, given the fact he had gills and fins.
❝ ⸻ you have gone too far this time, wriothesley. ❞ vishap's gaze fixes on him fully now, the bright slit of his pupils near luminous in the low lighting. he wants to touch him. wants to kiss him. but fails in even that. instead, that knot between his brow increases, heart jackrabbiting further - faster, harder. was he dying? ❝ i - you... ❞ that previous silence had been so defeaning, if only because it had been left ringing in the wake of the duke's raised tones, normal firm gentleness replaced by... what was the word... anger?
confusion melts to frustration in in an instant, lips pursing, eyes narrowing, and his body drawn rigid. ❝ you do not get to speak to me like that, your grace. ❞ and now, perhaps, the leviathan bares his teeth.
@wulvend