duplicity inbox / cw for nsfw shenanigans.

[unlawful]

TEXT / VOICE / VIDEO / ACTION NOTE: felix generally responds to everything in text, even voice or video calls. expect 90% of his replies to be text-based regardless of urgency.

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[unlawful]

( can't fucking leave it, he thinks. and when he can, it's just as bad. maybe worse.

he presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth and swallows tightly, throat bobbing. this whole thing is wrong. ephemera's calmness in the face of an inevitable catastrophe. felix still fucking being here, allowing this tenuous closeness. he drags his knuckles from his mouth, circling his hand around his neck. focuses on the rapid thrum of his pulse pinned under his thumb. )

Maybe, but at least I know what the fuck is going on.

[requiemshark]

[ That makes one of them, Ephemera supposes. He hums to himself, rocking back on his heels. Watching Felix, watching how he shifts to grip his throat. And remember how earlier Felix put his hand over Ephemera's and pressed until he started to squeeze. Could've snapped Felix's neck like that. Crushed his throat. Maybe that was the point. Making it quiet. ]

Do you?

[unlawful]

( maybe he doesn't understand entirely, but he understands enough. seen enough, too. he can feel ephemera's eyes on him, contemplating him, like he's a thing to be understood instead of a thing to be feared or otherwise avoided. you make sense to me. did he make sense when he allowed ephemera to live repeatedly? when he kissed him and begged him to come?

chorus made sense. ortez made sense until he very abruptly didn't. the way of the fucking universe: survive, at all costs. nothing else matters. no one else matters. you're either exploiter or the exploited. )

Yeah.

( the slow-growing realization that he gives a modicum of a shit, spreading through him like dryrot. there aren't words for that. he doesn't know how to stop that. he doesn't know how to flay that feeling from his ribs and silence it. an inevitable catastrophe.

he squeezes his throat and considers making this violent as his pulse kicks beneath his thumb. force it back. make it make sense.

fuck this. fuck ephemera.

his quiet stillness goes rigid in a dizzying flash, tension running his shoulders taut. icily, he says, ) Go home, asshole. Before someone sees you.

( then – before he can respond – he turns on his heel and leaves. )