emile-hides - Tumblr blog

emile-hides · 8 hours

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BDSM gets a bad rep as like a violent (male) dom pushing the boundaries of a reluctant (female) sub but in my experience it's a lot of subs with wildly elaborate fantasies screaming shit like "PUT MY ASS IN THE CHILI" while a new dom is like "Okay I think, we are reaching yellow for me,"

#Funny post go brr #BEST use of 'I don't know.... that's scary.......' I have EVER seen

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emile-hides · 8 hours

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these posts have the same vibes imo 💯

#Where's the Dashcon element of Backrooms media #Blorbo from my shows my beloved <3 #Timeline altering post.

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emile-hides · 8 hours

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Some shadow and maria sketches before i post sad stuff

#Sonic #Siblings ever <3

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emile-hides · 11 hours

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did i ever post this here

#Dungeon Meshi #GO WHITE GIRL GO!!!!!!

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emile-hides · 11 hours

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I think they would be good friends 🙆

#Mushishi #Dungeon Meshi #YOU CAN EAT THE MUSHI PEOPLE HAVE DONE IT #THERE IS A MUSHI THAT IS LITERALLY YEAST #DO NOT LIE TO HIM GINKO

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emile-hides · 11 hours

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Only one thing y’all can take from trans women. Notes.

#Queer #Trans #No tags head empty

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emile-hides · 11 hours

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#I don't even know what to tag this #I just. Ma'am. Hello.

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emile-hides · 12 hours

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#My day started at 6pm today because I was up so late last night.

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emile-hides · 12 hours

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hey has tumblr.com as in like the actual website itself been running like dogshit lately. load times have been atrocious. stuff just isn't working. etc.

#Ah fuck. THAT'S what this is???#Aaaaaaah I haaaate clearing my browser cache.........#FINE.#Just because I'm so sick of the website crashing on me

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emile-hides · 12 hours

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i love it when ryoko kui draws the gang in a modern setting but they still have their armour on

like this one specifically. jacket over plate and chainmail armour. sweatpants. hiking boots. i wish people dressed like this for real

#Dungeon Meshi #I would cosplay this Laios specifically

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emile-hides · 12 hours

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Faces / Changes

Two immortal shapeshifters find each other. Again

——————————⋆♱✮♱⋆——————————

The first time Jaime becomes painfully aware that he is lovely, Kassem wears an unfamiliar face.

It’s not the first time. They’ve stumbled across each other with bodies fresh and impermanent, faces morphed or hidden before and it won’t be the last either. Time has slung them into each other’s orbit uncountable times already. The first time - at what Jaime has heard other, more temporary beings, describe as ‘the dawn of time’ - he’s pretty sure neither of them were much more than formless clouds of heat and potential. If Jamie had figured out how to give himself anything resembling eyes a few millennia before he did, there’s no doubt in his mind that Kassem would have been beautiful, even then.

No, the newness is not anything newsworthy in and of itself and that is not why the realization suddenly carves through his chest like a knife.

Kassem is leaning back on his hands in the shade, his face remade in a cascade of unfamiliar angles, his hands suddenly slender and free of the freckles Jaime spent a week mapping out sometime last century. He would recognize him anywhere.

Jaime puts his hand to the small of some woman's back, parts the sea of people gathered on the square and walks. He knows that Kassem has seen him, knows where this ends and that it still has to begin somewhere. So he stops a couple of meters away from the low table Kassem is sitting at. He wavers on his feet, two women dressed in flowy robes pass between them.

“You look good,” he says and can’t help that there is a breathy, too honest quality to it. Like he’s run miles through the cold, breath stuck in his throat and cheeks flushed. Kass just looks at him, smiles mostly with his eyes. Eyes that, Jaime suddenly notices, have retained their teint of burned amber. A flash of sunset though his midnight gaze. He would have been no less terrifically beautiful with eyes made wholly anew, and yet Jaime finds a pang of gratitude tingles through his spine.

“Thank you,” Kassem says, and like always, he manages to say it like it’s hiding some shared joke, “you too.”

Jaime runs a flighty hand over his own biceps, shrugs almost unapologetically. “Same old, same old.”

Kassem smiles until his eyes nearly close with it. He nods, almost imperceptibly. “Come sit anyway.”

Jaime does.

“What have you been up to?” Kassem asks and raises a teacup to his lips while Jamie shuffles carefully down beside him. Their knees do not touch under the table, but the few centimeters of air between them buzzes like a beehive.

He shrugs. He makes it a point not to count the years and simply let time bubble past like a river. He knows not how many years he is accounting for now, and right now he remembers only dimly exactly what he’s been. Briefly he was a wildfire along the coast of North America, wading through the flames that felt as much a part of him as this current face he wears. For an even shorter amount of time, he planted corn and traveled slowly further south, wearing a man’s face and a wide brimmed hat pulled down low. Mostly he’s waited with no real sense of what all this waiting will net him. At times he wrote flighty diary entries, through the fire scorched the majority and all were in some script he no longer thinks anyone but he could decipher.

“I hear you went on tour?” he says instead and that makes Kassem hunch his shoulders with a sudden burst of laughter.

“A tour?” he asks and the laughter bubbles in his throat and in his voice. Jaime adjusts how he’s sitting, feels the buzzing pride in his hands.

“You wrote, last time, some poetry” he says and is again betrayed by the tone, wistful and secretive like he hadn’t planned for it to be. “I’d hoped you got to share some of it?”

And this time it’s Kassems turn to shrug. He twirls the teacup once, then twice, looks up and Jaime is treated to the freckles suddenly scattered like secrets high on his cheeks. “Most of them weren’t meant for other people.”

At times, Jaime feels crude, almost unfinished, compared to the man beside him. He is a creature of heat and fire and malleable sudden change, and yet he finds that he’s become primarily a creature of habit.

His face is easy, now that he’s learned it’s shape. It stays intact and rarely flickers. He tries, for fun or out of boredom, to reimagine what he could be and finds that he catches glimpses of himself suddenly in mirrors and he’s become the thing he fought to change.

His self seems unavoidable. The shape of his nose the only one he can seemingly dream up. And yet he knows that he changes, right then and there. No blooming freckles, no glint blazing through his iris, but there is something.

“Well, I thought it pretty great.”

“Of course you did.”

He raises his hands reflexively. “I know great art when I see it.”

He’s not sure, but he’s pretty sure Kassem rolls his eyes at him. One of his hands lands on the table with the distinct clink of a ring wrapped around one finger. And it’s like the sound dislodges something in Jaimes chest. Or dislodges something hanging above his head that’s lingered there for a while. He stares, transfixed, at Kassems hands and finds, for the first time consciously, that he is beyond lovely.

Beautiful in a way that defies the very definition of that word. He could be anything - has been anything and then some - and yet the thing that is not beauty would still cling to him. It settles like a dying star in the pit of his stomach. It is almost unbearable when Kassem at last looks over, one brow slightly raised. It is both a question and a declaration that he already knows. Mostly it’s a dare.

Behind them, the crowd shuffles on through the market square.

“Would you care for a walk?” Jaime asks after a beat, exactly like he’s been prompted too. Kassem measures him up once, a darting heartbeat of a look over. Then he nods and stretches a hand out to the side after his cane. The eye contact never wavers.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

The sun is still enormous and orange. Jaime knows from the taste of the air, that the sea isn’t far, but he has no idea what narrow streets he’d have to walk down to get there. It doesn’t feel important anyway. There sits a bubbling laughter in his throat and a flighty restlessness in his palms while Kassem walks and retells most of the time they’ve spent apart.

Then he falls silent. Jaime can almost hear the waves, at least he thinks so. The very air glows in soft orange.

Kassem runs a hand across the back of his skull. One of his thumbs digs into the strong tendon right where the skull and spine become one. His hands are soft.

“I think I’d know you anywhere,” he mumbles and pulls Jaime close until their lips meet. Hungry and soft and familiar. Halfway, Jaime wants to pry his eyes open and see if Kassems face changes and yet stays the same.

He doesn’t. He keeps them screwed shut and takes and takes. His hands find their way to Kassems shoulders, seemingly without needing any instructions. Holds him careful and desperate. He knows, can feel and in no way control, how his own face morphs - folds and becomes. It doesn’t matter. He’s learned by now he can’t become something that doesn’t look like the thing he is. Can’t become something that wouldn’t fit in the way Kass cups a palm around his jaw.

So he stays the same. And changes.

#Friend's Arts #AAAAAAAAAASJFKADSJKGSDGKSFKGHFSDKA #SDKGJSDKJGKSFJGKFD #EATING IT #THEY KIIIIIIIIIISS!!!!!#EVERYONE READ THIS #GAHHHHH #Okay I'm normal.#Again and Again <3 #They're so good top tier #Thankyou Gabe for indulging me with Them posting yet again #They are a perfect fit... every time...

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emile-hides · 12 hours

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