#holyscorch

@holyscorch : ‘watch your back.’ / yoru — prompted.

         the  alley  had  long  since  fallen  silent.  no  witnesses.  no  footsteps.  only  the  metallic  scent  of  blood  clinging  stubbornly  to  the  cool  night  air.  camille  knelt  beside  the  victim,  gloved  fingers  hovering  just  above  the  drying  crimson.  blood  never  truly  lied.  it  pooled  according  to  gravity,  splattered  according  to  force,  and  remembered  the  violence  that  shaped  it.  his  arts  traced  those  memories  in  silence,  each  detail  carefully  fitted  into  the  next  until  the  image  slowly  began  to  take  form.  ❛ … one  assailant. ❜  he  murmured  to  himself.  ❛ no...  two. ❜  one  fled.  one  remained.  the  realization  settled  in  just  a  little  too  late.  something  moved  behind  him,  something  fast.  instinct  screamed  before  thought  could  follow,  blood  began  to  gather  around  his  hand  just  when  —

         ‘watch  your  back.’  a  familiar  voice  suddenly  cut  through  the  alley.  steel  answered  before  the  vampire  ever  had  the  chance  to.  in  a  flash,  with  a  single  movement,  the  creature  that  had  lunged  from  the  darkness  was  forced  back  with  a  guttural  shriek.  black  ichor  splattered  across  the  pavement  before  it  dissolved  beneath  the  blade  of a scythe that  looked  far  too  practiced  to  belong  in  the  hands  of…

         ❛ the  barista. ❜  the  words  left  him  almost  absentmindedly.  crimson  eyes  lingered  on  the  scythe,  then  the  stance  and  the  ease  with  which  the  other  held  it.  the  pieces  rearranged  themselves  almost  instantly  in  his  head  and  clicked.  ❛ the  cafe... ❜   a  brief  pause,  followed  by  eyes  blinking.  ❛ ...was  never  your  only  profession. ❜   the  vampire  rose  at  last,  blood-red  arts  quietly  blooming  around  his  fingertips.  not  out  of  distrust,  but  readiness,  should  whatever  had  survived  decide  to  attack  again.  ❛ i  owe  you  my  thanks. ❜  his  gaze  returned  to  yoru,  composed  despite  the  surprise  hidden  beneath  it.  being  a  regular  at  the  cafe,  meeting  each  other  like  this  felt…  almost  awkward.  of  course  the  keeper  wouldn't  ever  let it show.  ❛ you…  fight just as well as you brew coffee. ❜

@holyscorch ♡'d for a one - liner.

❝   children   are   much   like   flowers,   lucian—they   need   love,   patience,   and   light   if   they   are   ever   to   bloom   as   they   were   meant   to.   ❞

he seems to be miles away, brown eyes focused on a crumpled leaf trapped beneath his foot , waving back and forth with the slight breeze. thumb idly flicks at the crumpled cigarette between their fingers , though it remained unlit .

for some reason , each time they reached for the matches in their pocket, panic began to settled in . eventually, without even blinking , clover moves their hand towards @holyscorch . ❛ can you ... light this for me ? ❜

@holyscorch &&. said... “ what a fascinating thing you are. i quite like you, little one. ” / casimir

he  likes  him?  hmpf!  well,  of  course  he  likes  him  —  who  DOESN'T  love  clowns?  (  folks  with  no  semblance  of  taste,  that's  who.  )  oh,  shadow  milk  would  love  to  see  what  kind  of  praises  he  could  wring  out  of  his  newest  fan.  his  ego  could  use  a  good  stroking,  but  WHAT  ELSE  is  new?  however,  something  else  catches  the  jester's  attention.  something  even  more  tantalizing  than  shallow  praise.

what's  this?  what's  this,  what's  this,  what's  this,  what  IS  thiiis?  the  beast  flits  higher,  floating  at  approximately  eye  level.  he  hums  faintly,  leaning  forward  —  a  hand  stroking  his  chin  in  an  exaggerated  display  of  contemplation.  ❝  hmm.  ❞  his  tentacles  give  an  inquisitive  little  flick;  the  myriad  of  eyes  dotting  their  undersides  all  peering  at  the  stranger  with  downright  shameless  curiosity.  ❝  you  know...  you're  pre-tty  fascinating,  yourself...  ❞  the  beast  suddenly  flashes  a  grin  that's  all  wickedly  sharp  teeth.  oh  yes  —  oh  he  IS,  isn't  he?  ❝  you  look  human.  you  walk  like  a  human,  talk  like  a  human  —  quite  the  accomplished  actor,  aren'tcha?  i  simply  MUST  give  kudos  to  a  fellow  thespian  when  i  see  one.  ❞   he  leans  a  bit  closer,  voice  dropping  to  a  stage-whisper.  for  dramatic  effect,  mostly.  ❝  ...  but  the  trrruth  is,  you  aren't  ACTUALLY  human  at  all,  are  you?  i  gotta  admit,  ya  almost  fooled  even  me  for  a  minute  there!  hehehe!  ❞

the  beast's  enthusiasm  doesn't  wane  at  the  revelation.  no,  no  —  not  in  the  slightest.  it  isn't  every  he  comes  across  a  kindred  spirit.  something  greater  wearing  the  guise  of  a  much  simpler  being.

❝  alright!  you  have  my  attention.  ❞   shadow  milk  hopes  he  can  understand  what  an  HONOR  that  is.  ❝  what  ARE  you  really,  hmm?  c'mon.  i  can  keep  a  secret.  ❞

⟡ ݁. ⊹ ₊ unprompted ✦ @holyscorch ₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡

Why he is here again, he does not know. His ego would be the easiest thing to blame. The museum is peculiar, its curator even more so. He does not return for the exhibits, nor because he has any particular interest in the man waiting within them. He returns because there is a persistent curiosity, strange enough to irritate him, that keeps drawing him back. Before he can bury it beneath conference calls, quarterly reports, and the reassuring simplicity of numbers, he finds himself standing beside Casimir once again.

❝ Depends on the drink. ❞ The answer comes easily, dry enough to border on dismissive.

There is little point in performing here. The practiced charm, the effortless smile, the version of Atlas most others typically received, it had never once worked on this man. He had spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to understand why, dissecting every interaction until frustration eclipsed investigation, and still he had come away with nothing.

' you're looking awfully tense, more than usual even. '

His jaw shifts almost imperceptibly. Atlas nearly corrects the other on instinct, nearly reminds Casimir that he is only ever seen exactly as he intends to be. Annoyance, contempt, impatience, they remain buried beneath years of deliberate composure. Or at least they are supposed to; around everyone else they do.

Instead, his gaze drifts over the curator in open appraisal, cold hazel eyes searching for... something. A tell. A flaw. Anything that might explain the impossible ease with which this man continued to crawl beneath his skin.

❝ A good friend? ❞ The incredulity in his voice is impossible to miss. It is, perhaps, the most openly expressive he has been since walking into the museum. Since the day had began. ❝ I was not aware we had reached that stage. ❞ The response is measured, but the edge is unmistakable now, his usual indifference honed into something considerably pointed, a dagger ready to stab another in the back.

❝ Though, for a friend... ❞ The word is given just enough emphasis to make his opinion of it painfully clear. ❝ ...I suppose I can make time. ❞ Whatever game Casimir insisted on playing, Atlas had never been one to forfeit. He might not understand the rules, and the man across from him remained an enigma, but there was little satisfaction to be found in abandoning a match before it had truly begun.

“ … doc. … jiyan. ” he gives a gentle tap along jiyan’s forehead, taking note of his dazed, seemingly lost expression. ryouta’s brow is quirked, head canted curiously and faintly concerned. “ you got quiet… feeling alright ? you didn’t skip another meal, did you ? ”

'I don't want to be dishonest with you and hide like some scared puppy...'

Those words, Ryouta's calm tone and honest body language, the way their eyes met and how he could hear the birds chirping from afar, it all kept replaying in his head like a broken record ever since the private investigator confessed to him. He couldn't help returning that day, that moment stolen to time, and he didn't know why. It wasn't the first time he was confessed to, by patients who confused the safe space he provided with romantic love, but Ryouta wasn't like that. It would be a disservice to the man if he tried to argue that their feelings weren't genuine. He knew they were, even though he didn't understand what they saw in someone like him, how they could be interested in someone whose priority was his work and research... Ryouta deserved someone who could dedicate them time and be there for them. Jiyan couldn't provide that. He knew that, and yet...

He couldn't stop thinking about it.

Even if Ryouta said he didn't have to, that they weren't expecting an answer from him, even if he knew that he shouldn't entertain ideas that distract him from the path he chose for his life... It made him happy, in a way he didn't understand nor could properly explain. It made no sense, and he knew that, and yet... Only when Ryouta tapped his forehead, did the doctor realize that he had been daydreaming.

Jiyan's reaction was immediate. Golden eyes widened in surprise and his cheeks and ears turned a few shades redder. And he had yet to notice it, but a few temporary loong scales made themselves present on his left jaw.

"Ryouta. I mean, Mr. Hayashi, you surprised me." The doctor hoped that the slight trembling in his voice wasn't noticeable, quickly looking away to feel less seen and lifting a hand to cover the lower half of his face. Had Ryouta been talking to him while he was distracted by his own thoughts and how... special the private investigator is to him? That was... embarrassing. "Please pardon me for not paying attention. I'm well and eating 3 meals a day, thank you for your concern. Nothing happened, I'm just..." Distracted. But it didn't feel right to give vague answers when Ryouta had laid their heart bare for him a couple of days ago.

So, after telling his reckless heart to calm down and willing away the heat crawling up his neck and face, he cleared his throat and said: "You will have to forgive me for not being 'here' these past days. Ever since you told me how you feel, even if you said you weren't looking for an answer, I cannot stop thinking about it. I admit that I find myself nervous and overjoyed, my heartbeat quickens when I remember your words, and I wish I could find an explanation for these feelings that are near impossible to contain... And I apologize for rambling, it's difficult not to when you occupy most of my thoughts. Mr... Ryouta, you're kind, patient, handsome... your presence is magnetic. It's difficult to not be drawn to you and let these warm feelings bubbling inside me continue rising, and- Ah, what I'm trying to say is pardon me for not paying attention. I shouldn't be distracted while on the job."

@holyscorch said . . . “ you look cold. … need my jacket ? ” ryouta doesn’t bother waiting for a response though, as he’s already pulling it off and soon gently tucking it over robin’s shoulders.

𝙍𝙊𝘽𝙄𝙉 𝙃𝘼𝙏𝙀𝙎 𝙒𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙍. it's too dark, too cold and too dreary. the actor is in denial, not wanting to believe winter has truly swept the city yet. this delusion has consequences and unfortunately as the night progresses the colder it becomes. arms wrapped around himself robin questions if coming to this event was such a good idea. who plans an outdoor event in winter ? yet the moment robin eyes the camera's he plays it off, like he isn't practically freezing to death on the inside. ryouta's voice doesn't ring a bell at first. the weight of the jacket rests on his shoulders before robin can protest. it's warm and oversized, enough to quell his shivering. body facing him now robin's eyes widen, the usual tired look no where to be seen.

❛ ryouta ? what are you doing here . . . ? ❜ was he hired to monitor the event ? but robin ignores the questions he has, eyeing the jacket now draped over his shoulders. ❛ thanks . . . but you will get cold if you don't have a jacket. ❜ no one seems to be paying attention to the two and robin takes the moment to lead him to a table off to the side, full of snacks and food for the crew.

❛ is something going on ? are you investigating for someone ? ❜ robin can't help his curiosity. clearing his throat he crosses his arms to keep the warmth from his new jacket close. and to think, this morning he'd been so close to canceling on his manager and having a night to himself. he would've missed out.