#vessalis

his gaze lingers on the cloth longer than it does on the silver.

jack mentions the pricked fingers with the kind of careless pride he usually reserves for grander accomplishments, so oswald reaches for his hand, quietly, as though examining the claim, turning jack’s palm just enough to see the faint marks along the fingertips; small wounds, nothing serious, but still...

oswald lifts jack’s hand and presses a kiss to the first fingertip, then the next, slow and deliberate. the gesture is uncharacteristically gentle, reverent in a way that contradicts the composed severity he usually carries. his thumb brushes lightly over one of the small pricks before he releases jack’s hand again. only to fold the handkerchief carefully, once, twice, ensuring the embroidery rests outward. instead of placing it in an outer pocket where it might be used carelessly, he slips it inside his coat, into the inner pocket resting over his chest, close and protected.

he fastens the cufflinks afterward, adjusting them so they sit perfectly against the fabric of his sleeves.

“ these, ” he says after a moment, glancing briefly at the silver, “ will be worn on occasions that warrant them. ”

important days, days where appearance matters, where meaning hides inside small details.

his hand settles briefly over the inner pocket of his coat, fingertips brushing the faint outline of the folded cloth beneath the fabric.

“ and this, ” he adds more quietly, “ will remain where it belongs. ”

near his heart.

He's breaking the plate in his hands and looking at Lacie, "Do I have to be nice to him?"

• “what makes you believe your excuse makes it any better?!”

another violent tug on his long braid, with a feral glare and heavy scowl , charlotte exhales three times in a futile attempt to calm herself. jack vessalius smiles at her over his shoulder, as if he wasn’t intruding , as if she wouldn’t slice open his throat if master glen told her to. still, master glen won’t, and jack knows - and therefore takes advantage of it.

“what the fuck are you doing here? again? it’s barely been a few hours since you were last here! don’t you sleep?!” the large clock in the bedroom strikes past midnight. no respectable gentleman would come climbing through a window at this hour without foul intentions.

𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐳 𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 met familiar countenance. long sunny braid swaying sideways, the ghost of a smile defrosting her lips. It's been awhile— years even they hadn't talked. apprehension and eargerness dwelled in the pit of her heart. a dangerous mix.

I drew an egghead fit for my persona Vessalis/Sally in her mimic form of Caesar.

!!!!

I'm gonna give y'all a few small doodles of her too from Twitter I made.

The fact that he would just lay down on someone, slowly crushing them and demanding attention in a household cat manner is adorable as hell.

  It  really  is  unless  you’re  the  recipient  of  it.  Slowly  getting  crushed.  At  least  he  starts  off  nice  with  just  his  head  but  then  it  will  go  straight  to  laying  on  them.  Could  he  just  transform  ?  Yes.  Will  he  ?  No.  Dating  him  doesn’t  save  you  from  this  fate  either.

                                    Manhandling symbol starters.

“Just because you pressed your fingers doesn’t mean I’ll keep my mouth shut.” Claude licked it while looking at him, “It’s so strange that you didn’t shut me up with a kiss but maybe you got scared when I scolded you.” The butler took his Master’s hand away from his face and kissed each fingertip, “Alright Master, you have worked a lot on your documents. You deserve to take the rest of the day off; I will clean up your office and prepare a light meal for you.” Before Jack could walk away, Claude pulled him close and kissed him. “Next time, I hope you finish your tasks on time. They are your responsibility.”