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soullessmocha · 5 months

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heaven.

{ karlach x gn!tav }

rating: everyone

warnings: light spoilers, mild gore, death, angst

word count: 1499

like with most of my writing i rarely re-read and go over it. i am mediocre writer with heavy bg3 brain rot after finishing my first playthrough of the game.

Your body felt cold yet hot at the same time as you felt life drain out of you. You stare blankly at the ceiling of the foyer in the House of Hope, a demonic spike going through your chest. “You dare to mess with me, steal my from me! Look how piteous thing you are. Let this remind your friends- AH!” Raphael hisses in your ear, his new form causing nothing but the smell of flint and death before he was slain. You barely realize how far your own body was flung until you hit the last soul tower, it crumbles over you as your body splatters on the ground. The horrific roars coming from the devil himself only deafen your ears more. You can’t hear anything. Just the ringing from your head and the screams. You couldn’t tell if it was your scream or your adventurous friends. Maybe even your lovers.

The hot weight of the stone was being ripped off of you. It’s a warm hand that turns your body over. “Oh gods, no, no, no, no…” The warm, honey-like, voice soothes through the ringing. You were saying the same thing as your body began to get so increasingly cold that even turning your joints brought splintering pain. “Hope, please! Help!” Wyll cries out but Hope can only stand over you with a distant look on her face. Karlach ripped off your armor to see where the damage was starting, “You’re not dying here soldier!” Her voice cracks, it makes your blood-stained lips curl slightly. Your bare hand grasps her bicep, “Karlach… No,” you choke out. She doesn’t listen to you.

With your body being moved you let out a blood-piercing scream that even the tadpole in your head couldn’t stand as it vibrated in your cranium in reaction. It was losing its life source. You. Karlach settles you on the sigil glowing in the foyer marble flooring. It was so cold for a place that was burning in one of the levels of Hell. The shiver sent down your spine only made a reaction in your body to spasm, cough up more congealed blood that was threatening its way through your system. Everything was shutting down on you. You couldn’t feel your lower half anymore.

“We’re going to get you to Shadowheart-” Karlach choked out, her tears being burnt down her cheeks. Something she hasn’t been able to do in gods knows how many centuries. She was supposed to be the first one to go with her infernal engine only being a ticking time bomb. Not you. Not her deepest of love. Not her very own heart. She covers the puncture wound with her own hands, trying to stop the blood from seeping through anymore. She could only wince at your whimper from the pressure.

“Please, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go!” Karlach begs you, her forehead resting on yours. The warmth comforted you as everything around started to get dark and fuzzy. Yet Karlach was the only thing shining bright for you. In this moment her words of confession roamed in your head. It just wasn’t meant in the stars for the two of you but to go out with a bang was all she needed.

You weakly feel your hand raise to her cheek, your thumb gently tracing over her features to memorize them one last time, “Out with a bang, right?” You couldn’t even recognize your voice, your hand slid from her cheek to her soft hair, feeling the locks one last time. Death was knocking on your door but you were fighting every second to be with your love. “You're going to go to Avernus,” you hiccup to get air into your lungs, “fix that damned engine of yours and make that bastard pay for what he’s done.” Your body spasms again as the sickly iron-tasting crimson splatters from your throat. “Don’t bring me back… Don’t ask Withers. You save the city. Save yourself. Then come and get me…” Your lower lip trembles as your world starts to crumble around Karlach her glow shining brighter as her sobs become more violent. She was shaking her head at your request. She didn’t even want to think about going through this alone, without her solider by her side. It couldn’t be done. Not without you by her side.

“Please, don’t go.” Karlach whimpers against your cheek while she peppers warm kisses all over your cold skin, burying her face in the crook of your neck. “I can’t do this without you!” Her voice increases in volume and the flames dancing on her burgundy skin glow blue. All you can do is hold her close while her body curls around yours, rubbing her back with numb arms. “I love you,” you whisper in her ear but before you were able to place one last kiss on her beautiful face you slipped away. Your soul knew deep down that everywhere would be hell without Karlach by your side in whatever afterlife there was as it dissipated away.

Her back felt empty as your strength faded. Her body could nearly melt you away from how cold you were in her arms. “Tav?” she whispers noticing your arms fall by her side, caught on her armor. “Tav, wake up!” She lifted herself from your body, hovering to look you over. The sight horrified her. No longer did your eyes glimmer with life, they were dull. Lifeless. Your skin is pale and clammy from the damned heat of hell. Karlach gently cupped your cheek, her long nails gingerly brushing hair from your expressionless features. Your eyes were staring at the damning mural in the foyer ceiling. Karlach gently closed your eyes. Her warm lips pressed on each eyelid. Strong arms curl under your body to bring you close.

She stood shakingly, weak in every joint as a part of her had fled this realm. Tears flowed down her cheeks yet she was stoic. Unable to rest until your body was at peace. “I love you, **ph myirz.”

You wake up in a familiar stone enclosure. Withers stood over your body watching you closely to make sure everything went right to his ancient doings. All you could do was blink up at the forgotten god. “Breatheth. Thee wilt beest did confuse and has't many questions. Howev'r, holdeth onto those folk and liveth again f'r tonight. Th're is a celebration happening and many art waiting to seeth thee.” His dried hands help you sit up and bring your feet over the stone bed.

Withers only gives you a nod towards the archway where you can hear music playing and chatter dancing in the air. You take in recognition of your own hands first, this is your body still. Nothing changed. Until you notice how quiet your mind is. Slipping off of the stone bed you run a hand through your hair, gripping the roots to set the reality that there is no more tadpole squirming in your brain.

As you walk across the tree bark others turn silent and watch you emerge from the shrubbery. Eyes all new and foreign greet you with a softness only few could recognize as relief, their mourning was gone. Yet your eyes only searched for one flaming person. Then you see her around the bend of the stone. Karlach stood over the fire, her arms crossed as anxiety rippled over her features. Gold glowing eyes pierced into the bonfire as if she was silently praying to whatever god would listen to bring you back. Yet the sharp gaze stopped when she noticed you, standing afar. She could smell you again.

The lost expression on your features made her grin fasten wider. Both of your bodies slammed into one another as you ran towards each other. This was your Karlach, not some twisted hell. It was her. The same scent of vanilla and ember came off of her heated skin. Tears blurred your vision, you buried your face in her neck. “You did it.” You whisper against her skin. Karlach only rocks the both of you. It seemed as if the world around the two of you didn’t matter anymore. “I did it,” she repeats after you before gently pulling you back to get a good look over you.

You could feel your very own heat rush to your face as her golden orbs take in your features. You hadn’t known how long it had been since she’d last laid eyes on you but from the looks of it. Too long. “Are you just going to keep staring or kiss me Karlach?” you quipped at her which broke her concentration. Her soft solemn smile turned into a cheeky grin as her hand landed just above your lower back and pulled you close, “You don’t have to ask me twice soldier.”

With her lips planted on yours and the intoxicating smell of her scent, you knew this was heaven. She was your heaven.

** ph myriz = my heart (infernal)

#i love karlach #karlach x tav #karlach x reader #karlach bg3 #karlach blurb #soulless writes #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #crying in the club

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olive-ish · 7 months

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Anyways the idea of Tubbo’s originally offers of friendship solely for information about the missing eggs eventually becoming him waiting for a letter back from his pen pal

Fred slowly becoming more and more aware as they’ve spent more time with Tubbo, feeling his own heart beat and stomach twist but being scared of it. Their frightened by the new sensation but can’t stop now

They bled into each other and now cannot mend the wound. Connected through their strange relationship.

#having Frubbo thoughts always #but like does this make sense????#Fred is so scared because he now looks back on his soulless self with horror. gaining self reflection but now scared of the vision he’s #attained. he knows every letter back he writes is putting him in more and more danger #but can’t stop. he’s seen the forbidden and now he can’t put that pen down #also non-binary fred my beloved I adore him so much #agh and tubbo being set on the idea of being all for fred but not fully getting the actual horror of his situation #frubbo #qsmp fred #qsmp tubbo #I don’t necessarily know if Fred will use other pronouns so I’ve just stuck with a mix of he/they since they haven’t stated yknow

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gale-gentlepenguin · 2 months

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AI writing and AI art dont hold value.

Why should I value something that no one was willing to make themselves?

#gale's thoughts #ai art #ai generated #ai writing #its lazy #its dull #and is lacks soul #having a soulless machine create is not different than an assembly line

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ancestral-steppe · 3 months

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#this post is just dsrk propaganda the dialogue writing is top notch go check it out #devil summoner raidou kuzunoha vs the soulless army #devil summoner #megaten #atlus #playstation 2 #ps2 #2006 #2000s #shantien uploads

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craycraybluejay · 7 months

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AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED on writing erotic povs of 'problematic content.'

I'm sorry, but if you write exclusively as a soulless narrator with politically correct and culturally moral opinions, your writing is boring. Give your narrator some spice! Yes, you can write murder erotically. Yes, you can write a cute wholesome scene like its the most disgusting thing in the universe from the narrator's perspective. You can write a mean narrator that pokes fun at the reader. You can write a weirdly maternal narrator that holds your readers hand and is meant to come off as mildly patronizing. You can write a sarcastic narrator, or an extremely blunt narrator. You can even write a narrator that is some insane political extremist. It's fiction. Creative writing. So be creative.

Write characters who's thought processes and actions are awful and make them look appealing. Write scenes that are relatively normal and make them look scary or strange. Please just write with some shred of creativity.

I need to go to the fucking library and read some good classics before I go fucking crazy. Y'all do not know how to just let go and enjoy the artistic process and it Shows. Everything is a reflection of you as a person. You always feel watched and judged. In the age of the internet, I guess it's understandable. (D'ya see what I did there, sympathetic to a problematic character-- in this case, the audience that wants to kill art for its wild spirit?)

Anyway here's a writing prompt:

Write a narrator that isn't Your Social Face. Bonus points if the narrator is telling the story very differently from how the characters or scenery do. Put your whole pussy into it bro.

And remember. The narrator is a character, too. And that character does not have to be You.

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feenmies · 6 months

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every time i see people act like character.ai and other ai art sites are two completely different concepts it makes me laugh because like. that site is basically if not actually identical to a fanfiction ai model that rips from the works of countless writers . just because you can input your own personalities and backstories now doesn't mean the bots aren't based on the work of pre-existing writers 😭 it's all still ai generated . not to be the fun police or anything but i think we should be more mindful of the fact that it's literally still ai art by definition and you are feeding the ai model by using it for x reader scenarios!!! like idk. i wish we lived in an era where commissioning/requesting fics was still widely popular so people didn't see a need to use ai sites

#this stuff isn't even artificial intelligence like there's nothing transformative about what these sites do #it's just machine learning. input output #it just feels kind of soulless to me. on one hand people are allowed to have fun but on the other hand #i'm kind of sad to see writers not considered as artists in this debate about ai art #like music + written work still qualifies as art. you guys know that right. that's why ai writing and ai covers are still morally wrong.#but people still struggle to see the reason why ai visual art is fucked up so what am i expecting really

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smallfrenchstudyblr · 6 days

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Social scientists really out there with absolutely ZERO consideration for the policies that their research might end up supporting.

"But it's science"

IT'S FIVE WONKY ECONOMETRICS TOOL FROM THE 70S IN A TRENCHCOAT TO HELP YOU CONCLUDE THAT HOMOPHOBIC VIOLENCE LEADS TO BETTER SUPPORT FOR LGBTQ PEOPLE ???

BUT ONLY IF SAID VIOLENCE IS "SUFFICIENTLY SALIENT" ???

Did you think down for a hot second to consider how this can interpreted? OR DID YOU WANT THAT SWEET ACCEPTANCE IN APSR SO BAD ????

#Social scientists with too much python and not enough braincells are my berserk button #I cannot believe I just read this with my own two eyes #I know publish or perish is bad and turns us all into soulless machines #BUT DUDE #You cannot just write that and put it out there ??#tw homophobia

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soullessfawn · 8 months

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In Every Life Time, I Fail

Phil was cursed a very long time ago with immortality after killing the End Dragon, with her death he was granted what she could never have before that fated day, an end to her existence. With her wings attaching themselves to his back transforming him into a feathery winged creature, half human half immortal, Phil will forever no the pain of living too long of a life.

At first he never even noticed, going back to his wife and kissing her on the cheek, pride in her eyes at the tales he spins of his battles, but soon that smile started to winkle, like any persons does as they age.

Phil loved it just the same, that smile, it only started to hurt him when he realized the winkles on his face were missing. Phil kept looking young, his wife getting older and older, until she dies, leaving him behind.

The wings weren’t enough anymore, he wanted to see that smile again, but she’s forever locked away from him. Phil would trade a hundred flights he took with her in his arms to be able to join her in the after life, but no matter who he prayed too, his fate was sealed.

Phil knew there were many names to the End Dragon, yet he never wondered why.

He never thought about how they changed form woman to man, from beast to beast, that they isolated themselves in a dimension outside of time itself at the end of the universe.

It’s only hundreds of year after when Phil looks I’m the mirror, does he realize who the Ender Dragon truly was. She was a mortal just like him once, going on a great adventure to slay the End beast and just like Phil had, she fell for it, the curse moving to her when she killed her predecessor.

Phil took to travelling the land, doing good in hopes that he’d find a way to break the curse, instead Phil found a man who could hear the voices of blood and vengeance themselves.

Techno was a weird man, the sort of man who wouldn’t ask questions as to why Phil never seemed to age, had wings that were black as the void and smelled like star dust, the sort of man Phil could find happiness in. They travelled the world together, Techno wasn’t immortal but he was far from a mortal man, always hiding his face beneath a pig mask.

Phil found this out one day, when a stray arrow got him in the chest, this was before Techno knew of his immortality, so as Phil collapsed to the ground not able to move, Techno thought he was dead.

That night Phil witnessed why people feared Technoblade and why his voices named him Blood God.

Techno was a beast just like Phil was, but instead of one born from the death of another, Techno was born from the blood of the living and suffering, as long as blood flowed through his veins, Techno could transform into a monstrous boar stronger then any man.

That night Techno’s true nature was revealed and Phil’s was, but the blonde was more focused on the black mail he now had on the other.

“You cried!” Phil would chuckle, patting a sulking Techno on the shoulder. “Awww mate, you really do care about me!”

After that, Phil found a boy with brown hair and a love for the people. Wilbur, a scrawny thing you’d think would die from the softest winds, but somehow survived the many winters Phil housed him.

Wilbur was Phil’s son in everything but blood, then came Tommy, then Tubbo. Soon enough the boys set off, all to soon if Phil had to say, but in hind sight Phil would have preferred it ended there.

L’manburg was a country he watched his own son build, then die for.

By his hand…

Phil would never forgive himself for that.

“Please!” Phil screamed into the night, the Tundra winds freezing him. He would have died out here due to the cold if it wasn’t for his curse. “Take me instead! Let Wilbur live! Let him live!”

Some of Phil’s wings faded to a dark grey and Wilbur woke up in his bed the morning after, a mad man who’s seen death and walked away from it.

After the fall of the country, Phil left, Techno hot on his heels like he had always been.

The man was older, Phil could tell, even after all these thousands of years, time was never one there side. “I think I’m going to go.” Techno, his old friend, said one night over a warm bowl of soup.

“Go where?” Phil asked, oblivious at the time. “The voices needing entertainment—“

“Not like that.” Techno cut him off, humming. The man was looking out the window, hair tied up in a loose bun, colour freckled with grey. His face was wrinkled, his knees ached, Techno hasn’t fought in a battle since L’manburg times. “I’m going to visit your wife.”

Then it clicked, yet by this time death was meaningless to Phil. Everyone but this one, it seemed. “It’s that time already?” Phil whispered.

Techno nodded, smiling. “I’m not gone yet, old man, I still have a few more years.”

A couple of years later, Phil was invited to an island resort. The QSMP, whatever that was.

He should ah e known his bad luck would follow him.

Phil met new people, reunited with Wilbur, Quackity, Tubbo, Niki…

He became a dad to two lovely kids named Chayanne and Tallulah, it was perfect.

Until they went missing.

“Please come back…” Phil cries, eyes gazing out of the birdcage he was trapped inside. “Before I outlive you both while stuck in here.”

#qsmp philza #QSMP #philza minecraft #au idea #writing snippet #snippet #wilbur soot #tubbo #technoblade #Immortal Philza au #qsmp lore #Soulless Fawn AUs

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nyx-sagau-dreams · 1 year

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You've done well, Creator

Your favored character smiles at you, genuinely happy for you. "So it's the end of the semester for you, then? These 'finals' you've mentioned before; did they go well? Did you pass?" They wait for you to answer, tilting their head slightly as you do. "Well, it's no matter to me. I'm jsut happy to have you here! I've been waiting patiently for you, and I can't wait to enjoy these 'holidays' you've mentioned."

They open their arms, offering you a hug. If you take the hug, they hold you close and rub your back. "You've done well. Come rest with your people."

(heyyyyy I'm mostly done with finals now so I thought I'd whipped this up for y'all rq. I hope you guys like it, I wanted it to be comforting because I know this time of the year is stressful. Happy holidays to those who celebrate!)

#genshin x reader #sagau #sagau x reader #genshin sagau #sagau brainrot #genshin impact sagau #sagau imagines #mod nyx writes #also if anyone is confused i'm not going on hiatus again but i will be trying to return to the askbox #i was definitely not expecting so many people to hit my inbox and i def need to take my time so everyone gets a good quality answer #rather than pumping out soulless content

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thesoulesscollection · 18 days

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Under The Sun (Thsc Fic)

I've been wanting to write something for my dear Oc, Choc but I never got the chance to until now. Here I wanted to expand on him as a character while exploring his relationships. This one-shot revolved his interactions with Mr. Macbeth. Hope everyone enjoys reading this. It came out better than I thought.

Combat boots hit the dirt ground with a thud and the heat waves of a summer day sends him to a slight stumble.

“Careful there, big guy” Soon in his tired haze stricken with a mild case of a heatstroke, he hears a chipper voice lull him out. “You don't want to trip over your two left feet and get a face full of the dirt below, would you?”

Macbeth switches his drowsy attention from straight ahead over to the source. Naturally loud, booming and smooth. Sure knows how to captivate someone in one shameless easy going swoop. Intensely scolding heat rises in his broad chest up to his face with his ears getting the brunt of it, turning a bright scarlet red. He coughs in his hand then uses it after to brush aside the beads of collected sweat from his bare head.

“It'll be very embarrassing for you, won't it?”

It would indeed be quite the harsh fall. As the ground below was a good foot distance from where he stood on the train and it's made out from rough dirt and jagged rocks. All it would take is one single awkward misstep on those steep metal stairs to ensure Macbeth let the earth swallow him up.

Alone he handled it well as he went to dust off the grime, ignoring the blistering pain that surfaced around his likely scratched face and trudge along as if it's nothing. However that wasn't the case here and now. If it happened in front of another soul, anyone else, he likely would be a little flustered, yes on the matter as he aggressively swore them to secrecy.

This he couldn't hide from. Not so easily. The other man at his side was built differently, he is eagle eyed and observant. Ready to pick on the details and tear them apart.

“Need to hold my hand to steady yourself for a sec?” He's reluctant. A hand, bandaged, is held out to him waiting for his response. Eyes flicker between the hand to the ground then back, trailing up the arm. Once the bandages stop at the elbow he notices the bare skin is a distinct charcoal color with the faint veins a light gold color. It wasn't any of his business to begin with but Macbeth had been worried about that fact with his oldest friend. The thin material protected him from serious damage, and he should know however there came the underlying fear it won't be enough. He wasn't the only one in the clan who shared a similar intuition when it came to that fact despite the man generally being a goofy guy nobody can sincerely hate.

Why would they?

“I'm all set here” Respectfully he kept his drooping gaze set firmly to the ground, afraid it may trail further to somewhere he couldn't explain. “Thank you though”

“Ain't going to kill you”

Where the hand pulls away, Macbeth drags a stilted breath. Awkward tension could be cut down by a dull knife. The hand returns again with a vengeance, grabs onto his wrist to the point it begins to hurt. Yet he didn't make an attempt in tugging free.

“Look at me” It orders him, firm, no room for an argument. Although it wasn't like Macbeth would've won anyways. He listens, steadies his slumped posture and looks up. “Good boy. I hope you do know I'm looking out for you as a friend” The unintentional pet name spoken in a whisper doesn't go unnoticed by him. Warmth uncomfortably settled in his gut.

What he sees staring back at him does him no favors. Golden eyes with hints of vibrant orange and reds swirling together are locked onto his dull gray. As if staring at the blazing sun up in the sky up close and personal that left Macbeth in awe, he couldn't look away from. Until it burns a gaping hole into his soul.

“I know, Choc. I know”

A part of him nuzzled deep in his own psyche suddenly feels very inadequate compared to his friend. Where he wasn't anything special to look twice at, really, described to be dull, too rashly hot headed acting before thought and he wasn't necessarily good with either his words or feelings. Classic socially inept, cold shut in.

Then came along Choc, a social butterfly able to light up the mood who back in the day was considered conventionally attractive, had people draping off his every word. Still was in Macbeth's eyes, only in a different way, even when long years amongst fraught sickness clearly wore down his friend. As he can look past the plentiful amount of gruesome scars on the man, across his sun kissed face, past his gold row of sharp teeth, and his unnatural skinny body, it just adds on to ruggish charm. Macbeth then scanned him from head to toe, at one time there were firm muscles laid ever so nicely on the man that had melted away to skin and bones over the years.

“Then you should know better, right?” Choc responds in an even tone and Macbeth feels worse. He isn't intending to worry him. This isn't what he meant to do.

“Don't need you guilting me, I know”

“I'm not. You of all people should know that. As your closest friend. I can worry”

Today was a stressful day as it is, being the train conductor holding both all the Toppats’ most prized possessions and the majority of their members. It was his assigned priority to travel back and forth from one port to another for the clan. So he's built to stay set on a tight schedule that he held high expectations and standards which he's behind on. However he is thankful they got to one small port despite the delay in a reasonable time frame. So he doesn't need this right now.

Really, didn't need it as Choc's hands cupped his tentatively in utmost care and led the way.

“Don't get time in the world for this, y’know that right?” Half-heartedly Macbeth pleads, from his free hand, fingers pinch the bridge of his flat nose, his gruff voice gains an octave then he dryly swallows.

A chuckle bursts out of Choc, shrugging, with a twinkle in his eyes, walking a few feet from the train through a path of bushes, “Dontcha worry. I do think we can squeeze in a couple minutes and relax, yes?” Choc lazily went to suggest though they knew it wasn't a choice, more an order.

“The others won't like it. The chief surely won't”

“They'll survive,” Choc scoffs, a hint of hidden agitation seeps in. “Maybe not the chief in his haughtiness with that gloriously pretentious stick shoved so far up his ass”

“Choc”

Soon the man in question stops in his tracks in front two trees, looking behind his shoulder at Macbeth, an unreadable expression on his face until he softens and discreetly rolls his eyes. “It's true, isn't it? Someone's gonna get real tired of it soon and do something about that”

Nobody should ever be brazen to detest the chief, his diligent reign brought the clan to new heights they haven't seen in a while, at least Macbeth thought so.

“He's under a lot of pressure” Macbeth adds in defense to the chief's name.

“Shouldn't be having the title and power then if he can't handle it. The cracks under the so called pressure is starting to reveal itself”

While Macbeth squirms, swaying on one foot to the other, Choc walks to a tree, presses a hand on the bark, lowering carefully to the ground. Macbeth manages to take a spare glance around, he notices they were alone, together at the train's head, and not a thing or person is there to interfere.

Woods surrounded them, as naturally thickly settled and so the colorfully painted autumn leaves above provide a decent amount of shade for whoever rests below.

“At least in my opinion. Though let's not talk now on it. We're here to relax”

Still holding hands it was until Choc let go Macbeth missed the soothingly comforting contact. What he would do to touch them again, worse is he wanted a better feel, and so the familiar overbearing sensation returns in his gut.

“For a few minutes, okay” Once he finds his voice Macbeth speaks, “And I have to leave. Get back to work”

“Sure. Sure, workaholic you. Beats me for wanting what's best” Leaned up against the tree Choc lightly jokes, scoots off to the side giving his friend room to sit. So with a grunt, he plops on the dirt next to the man, his hat laid off to the sideline.

“Hmm”

Macbeth hums, head back laying on the itchy wood behind him, eyes clamped shut, thin lips pursed with his large, calloused hands folded on his chest, and legs stretched out.

Relaxation never came to him. An unheard-of after thought. Yet this time around somehow it was different. There's a cool breeze nipping his cheeks, so having someone's presence for example, Choc's sets him at ease. Maybe it was the stress doing this, or all the pent up tension building inside kicking the wind out of his lungs.

He didn't know how long it was sitting there until he snapped awake covered in a cold sweat. A tingling itch burns underneath his skin near his heart. Reassured immediately when beside him Choc remained, sat cross legged, hands at his side, and staring up at the sky, and he didn't miss how peaceful his friend looked right now.

Rather he was mesmerized by the sight. The way the sun hits in all the right angles Choc shines a radiant glow. Once again the eyes are what took the cake, so captivating he is immersed and can't look away. At one point he opens his mouth but shuts it.

Then he catches the hand grazing across his own; he may or may not have deliberately put them aside. Long, boney fingers wrapped in tinted gauze barely touch his thick, stubby digits. Even with the bandages on, they were so elegant compared to his that's missing a few.

Temptation struck him.

Slowly inching towards the man's hands he hopes isn't too noticeable. Macbeth wasn't the type to ask for much anyways. A simple man with the most basic needs and the way Choc feels under his touch is addictive. What was a need turned to a strong craving unable to be explained in words. Hand holding won't do, he imagined his curious touch traveling up the man's arm to his chest, and down his waist.

How big his hands would be wrapped around the man, so slender, waist nicely cinched in by the corset vest. Push the sweet jester to the dirt ground, not caring if they got messy in the process as they return to the station.

“Whatcha starin’ at?”

Macbeth is startled out by his daydreams and snaps his attention to the man who returned an odd look at him.

“Caught you staring” Tilting his head in to a certain degree that's not known possible to a man Choc merely laughs, “Handsome, I get it”

A hefty shove amongst his friend's laughter later, Macbeth coldly replies, “Wasn't directed at you so don't get your head aired up, pal”

Can't help to watch the shit eating grin falter while the wrapped up hand inches away.

“Sure. You say that like you believe it's true as fact” Choc's smile returned just as quick, all knowing yet kept silent.

“Watch it before I wipe the smugness off you”

“Oooh I'm so scared”

Shambling back on his feet, Macbeth knew his time was up, hearing faint voices coming in the distance. In the corner of his eyes was Choc, usually teasingly persistent, resigned himself. Macbeth suddenly felt bad as he had to leave, turning around with the words on his tongue, however it died as Choc lazily waves him off.

“Took enough of your time. I'll see you later”

Nodding Macbeth, stiff, shambles on the trail to the train, turning his head slightly watching the figure disappear from his sight.

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