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the-dragons-knight · 3 years

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FFXIV Write 2021

Prompt #2 - A Father’s Blessing

Aberrant - ‘departing from an accepted standard’

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It was still so terribly strange to be walking the paths of the Churning Mists, walking upright with the feet and toes of a girl rather than the claws. She still remembered the day she was struck down and sank beneath the waves of the Ruby Sea, the day her life forever changed. In the eyes of a human, it had been a millennium. For most dragons, it had only been yesterday.

To her…to Kadlin, it felt like eons.

The wind around her shifted, a strong gust bearing down on her from above and the light horned auri woman turned her gaze to the sky as the great, white feathered wyrm, Hreasvelgr, floated down to land in the clear beside her. She smiled softly and followed him, standing before him as he lowered his head to her.

“Kadlin, my daughter,” His rumbling voice soothed her as she embraced his snout, rubbing her cheek and scales against his fur, “I have missed you. It is good to see you well and safe.”

Kadlin nodded, looking up into his eyes with a sad smile, “I’ve missed you too, father.” She was glad the ancient tongue of her scaled ancestors had not left her just yet.

Hraesvelgr hummed, “Your eyes always remind me of your mother…And she would have been proud of you.”

“Perhaps not of everything, but hopefully most things she would have. I at least avenged her partly…in some way perhaps.”

The wyrm sighed in a low hiss, “Revenge was never Ratatoskr’s way. Her nature was far too kind and understanding…but yes, you have set that vengeful spirit free.”

Kadlin nodded, “I um…I’ve had a lot to think about lately and…” She stepped back from him and moved to settle herself on a rock behind her, pushing back the skirt of her red dress to not bunch up the fabric around her scaled tail, “And I think…I have an answer for that question finally.”

Hraesvelgr knelt down to lay in the grass, curling his tail and wings around her as he listened. She took a deep breath before looking him in the eye, “I…I wish to remain amongst the mortals. Amongst man and his world.”

“Thou wouldst still trade thy wings for legs?” He replied, “Even after so long of being without them and being so far from home?”

“Please, do not misunderstand, Father. Full glad am I to be able to come home again and you know not how happy I was to see you all again and to still be able to see you when I like…but I have also lived in another world. I have seen its joys, its sorrows, and I have felt them myself. There are experiences I would have never dreamed of having while clad in the scales of my youth.”

“You say as if you are not still young,” He chuckled, earning him a look from the little blonde form of his daughter.

“The point I mean to say is…I love my home here, but I also love my home there…and I wish not to have to choose between them…if I may. Meaning i wish to be able to choose freely between my wings and my flesh as a please…if possible.”

The white dragon pondered this for a moment before a question rang through the air, “You have already learned to call upon your scaled form again after your battle with Nidhogg’s shade, but I sense that is not the issue. What made you come to this decision?”

Kadlin smiled weakly and looked down at her hands, fiddling with the ring on her finger, “I don’t mean to answer your question with a question but…do you remember…what it was like when you first met Shiva?”

Hraesvelgr growled softly at the mention of the Elezen woman, his eyes turning to the clouds where the setting sun was streaming through them, “I shall never forget that day. The moment our gazes met, our hearts never parted, and never have to this day.”

Kadlin smiled up at him, “I never understood what you meant as a hatchling when you would say that. I thought it was such a crazy notion to think about, but…now I…”

“You have found your heart in another then?” Kadlin froze, listening for the anger in her voice or the disappointment, yet it was entirely unreadable, “And He is a mortal, isn’t he? A son of Thordan.”

Kadlin’s hand shook as she fiddled with the ring more, swallowing hard, trying to keep herself calm in the face of the powerful wyrm, “Are you angry with me?”

There was a silence that felt as if it lasted a century until saw his shadow shade her and felt him push his nose against her head with a soothing purr, “Never, child.”

Tears spilled over from Kadlin’s eyes as she nuzzled against him again, smiling gratefully as he continued, “I have learned thy heart enough now to never be angry with you for following your heart. As I said, your mother would have been proud.”

She wiped her tears as he drew back, confusion rewriting her features, “You knew? How?”

The great dragon laughed, pointing his nose to her ring that she was still fiddling with, “I may be an old wyrm, but I still know the customs of man.”

She scoffed lightly, “I never said you weren’t! But I am sorry if it seems I deceived you or hid something from you. It was not my intention.”

“I know this. Your intention is ever the purest one,” Hraesvelgr lowered his head until he was eye level with her and they gazed deeply into one another eyes, “I have spent centuries isolating myself from the world, pining for the loves I have lost. ‘Tis a fate I choose for myself in remembrance of those we have lost, but I would not wish it on anyone, especially not you, little one.” He touched his nose to her hand and said, “Kadlin, my daughter and daughter of Ratatoskr, first of the name ‘Sailehsdran’…of the dragons chosen by Hydaelyn, you are always welcome home, my child, and you have my blessing to follow the path your heart leads.”

Kadlin smiled brightly through her tears, wiping her damp cheeks with the back of her hand again and again to be able to see him clearly, happily laughing at her inability to stop them, “Thank you, Father. Thank you so much.”

“But tell that son of Thordan that if he dares to harm thee, I will see to it that there will be ought left but ash.” He chuckled darkly.

“I highly doubt you will need to worry about that with Ser Aymeric, but I’ll be sure to let him know, just perhaps a bit more gently so as not to scare him away,” Kadlin laughed with him.

He hummed in response, “I expect to see you before you are given away to him. Both of you, of course.”

“Whatever do you mean? I wouldn’t think of anyone else giving me over to my husband to be but im father. ‘Tis how the tradition must go, after all.”

It was sure to be a wedding Ishgard would not soon forget.

((‘Sailehsdran’ is actually ‘Hydaelyn’s chosen dragon’ in Dragonspeak, hence why is it my Auri version of Katsum’s last name ^^))

#kadlin sailehsdran #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv writing #aymeric de borel #ffxivwrite2021 #wol x npc #aymeric de borel x wol #dragon wol #dravanian #hraesvelgr #ratatoskr #heavensward #heavensward msq #slight heavensward msq spoilers

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roxa-sos · 4 years

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impossible - rafe cameron

rafe cameron x kook!reader

tw; major abuse in this one bud,, manipulation, blame, fear mongering, being trapped in an emotionally abusive and threatening relationship, trying to see the good sides of it.

not requested; this is the fic rooted in my daddy issues alkNFDEl, reader does something that’s inconvenient for rafe but he blows it out of proportion. the reader is used to this kind of stuff, so they keep the blame on them even though it’s frustrating, and like always, they’re the bad guy, always taking care of rafe.

a/n -- i fucking LOVE drew starkey i’m sorry,, i kinda want to write some fluff for younger rafe (before the drugs, before he let his dad get to his head, all that good stuff) but i need ideas for that lmao. nobody asked for this. literally,, everyone’s talking about rudy on my dash and i’ll just sit here with my drew pfp going ‘hey want some rafe angst? no? here u go anyways :)’ also if it isn’t obvious. i crave happiness. but i don’t have that so for now all i shall give you is angst.

“you’re always fucking yelling at me!” rafe’s voice seemed to bounce off the walls, or it echoed in your head as you sat on the edge of his bed, toying with the promise ring on your finger. you felt numb, but you had to say something.

“rafe, i’m not yelling, i just don’t understand how-”

“no, no, if you want to argue i don’t want to hear it.” he was barking at you, laughing when the words left his mouth. “you’re just impossible to deal with.” he was pacing around in front of you, blowing things out of proportion, like he always did whenever you did something he didn’t like.

what had you even done? you didn’t remember. maybe it was something about cutting your hair? based on how he was treating the situation, it seemed like you told him you were sleeping with some kid from the cut.

somewhere deep down, it almost felt like you would never be good enough for him. where had the time gone? it felt like it was yesterday when you two were sixteen and he gave you that promise ring in front of his dad, topper, your parents, your friends, everyone. you hadn’t felt that good for a while.

“are you listening to me?” he asked harshly, taking a threatening step towards you. “what am i supposed to do if you’re not even gonna take this seriously? christ, every day i regret chasing you when we were younger.”

you didn’t want him to leave you. he was all you knew. and you knew it was dumb to stay with him at all, but he was good to you. really good to you, even if it was only on occasion.

just a month ago he’d taken you shopping on the mainland like it was your birthday. he called you hot when you were trying on ridiculously fancy dresses for no reason, and he even bought you one just because he knew you liked it based on how you looked at yourself in the mirror.

a week ago, he had you under his arm, sitting across from the bonfire that had raged while your parents and friends drank and mingled. the light had died and most people had gone inside, but he stayed out with you after you said that the sky looked nice.

the night before, he sat you on his lap as he laid down on his bed, telling you all about the party he went to that you hadn’t been able to make it to. omitting the parts about the dumb drugs he did, because he knew you didn’t like it.

how could he go from that to screaming at you over nothing?

“rafe, i know you’re angry, but can you just... stop yelling?” you pleaded, looking up at him. he was so overwhelmed with anger that his face was red, his hands balled up on either side of him. you felt tears threatening to leave your eyes. you hated it, but it wouldn’t stop. god, you were so overdramatic sometimes.

you were taking erratic breaths, trying to calm yourself down. the thought of losing everything you ever knew - the thought of losing rafe - it stressed you out to a degree you couldn’t describe. so you always panicked when he yelled. you were always scared, even though it would probably be better for you if he did leave.

“you’re so emotional.” he groaned, turning away from you.

he couldn’t even look at you.

you shouldn’t have said anything at all. you were an instigator. you knew he got mad easily, and he’d been good for too long, so you knew he was gonna break soon. his good streaks never lasted long.

you loved him. and you knew it was dumb, but you really did. all you wanted to be to him was a good partner, you wanted him to respect you, you wanted him to see some worth in you.

it just felt like he never did.

sometimes you’d distance yourself from him. usually it was after he yelled, and for a few days after that. you’d convince yourself that you didn’t care about what he thought about you, or you’d say that you needed to seriously talk to him about what was going on between you two.

yet somehow, that intrusive thought always came back to you;

you care about what he thinks.

because he was the most influential part of your life, and he had been for years. someone out of your grasp, someone who you just wanted love and attention from. he baited you with it, giving you bits and pieces, and when you were getting good again, he’d lash out at you for no reason.

it was exhausting, but at the end of the day... you stayed.

“i... i’m sorry, rafe.” you finally caved and apologized for whatever you’d done. whatever you’d said. whatever he was mad at.

he didn’t answer you that time, but he turned back to face you.

“i’ll see you later.” he spoke to you like you were a child, leaving the room. he slammed the door behind him, leaving you to crumble back onto the bed that you two usually shared.

uncontrollably sobbing, because there was nothing you could do to make him happy and proud of you, but that was all you wanted to do.

a/n -- do NOT romanticize this relationship. im begging you. this is very unhealthy and it’s a little bit of a vent for me. if you’re going through this, please contact a help line (1-800-799-7233) and stay safe. you are worth it, they just can’t see it for themselves, their expectations are unrealistic. if it feels wrong, it probably is.

#rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe fic #drew starkey fic #obx netflix #obx fic #obx imagine #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #jj maybank #john b routledge #sarah cameron #pope heyward #kiara carrera #outer banks

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swordmaid · 3 years

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creator tag meme

tagged by the local angel @giuseppearcimboldo thank you so much lizzie!

rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

VERY happy i can fill this out because i’ve been so productive this year lol. also this is all gonna be jb bc ive been RELENTLESS and spamming and i would apologize but i wont lmao

1. jb eros/psyche au.

i am talking about everything i have done for the au btw, because i’ve done quite a handful of things and honestly i really love all of them--even the doodle ones which rarely happens. anyway, i love this au in general. i think the tale is perfect for them, and i’m happy with the works that i managed to put out most esp this one that’s based on canova’s sculpture of eros and psyche. translating sculpture into digital art was interesting since it was all about converting the weight and structure of the sculpture into the screen and i think i managed to do it imo! i love how brienne looks heavy in his arms, i love how strong jaime looks holding her up and i especially love the way i shaded her dress to mimic the lines that the statue has. all in all, this au slapped and i actually want to do more of it but i have no inspiration right now.

2. jb as classical art series.

honestly i never thought that this was going to be a series lol i thought it was just a two time thing, but then i did another one, and then another one, and then another one and now here we are. i love all the pieces that i’ve done for it actually. my favourite thing is that they’re all not direct translations of the original art. there are some aspects that i’ve taken and adapted while also putting my own flair into it. i love the reverse colour scheme with klimt’s kiss and my own rendition of it. the gold being the accent highlight in a field of murky brown/black whereas klimt has the black squares present to emphasis the richness of the gold and yellows. i also like the little thing i did where i put the geometric shapes outside of the subject instead of inside (what he did). i put on the tags that i didnt like how it turned out but i actually like it lol i just didn’t like how long it took me i get too impatient with my art i think. anyway. i love this whole series sm i think all the pieces have their own character, and tbh i always get nervous adding another piece into this just because all the ones that i’ve done has been so well received i don’t want to be a disappointment lool. regardless, i love classical art and i love jb and i love being able to put the two together hehe we love to be self indulgent

3. la belle fleur sauvage commission.

aka THIS commission that was based from SD’s fic, la belle fleur sauvage. some behind the scenes with that one--that one took me SO long to do, like it was taking longer than i had wanted and i felt very bad and i am forever thankful for sd’s patience 😭😭😭. i really can’t be too mad though since i was working on the third year of my degree, but i still would’ve wanted to finish it sooner than i did. but as for the art itself---i actually love it lol. i always say to zoom in on my stuff to see all the details but i WISH folks would zoom in on that because it’s so big and so intricate. i love how everything turned out; i love how rich the colours are, i love the composition for all three panels, i love how the SKY looked like actually that’s the first time i sat down and painted clouds with that technique and i am so happy and pleased with how it looked im using it for everything LOL, i love jaime’s outfit in the 2nd panel---i actually designed a whole outfit for that and he DOES have his pouches and daggers, etc. stuff that he would have with him if he was a mercenary, but because of the cropping, those details were taken out but it’s THERE. i love the colours and the shading on the 3rd panel. it looks so soft and romantic and it’s everything 😭😭. honestly i didnt know if i was able to finish whole three panels just because of how big the project seemed, but tbqh this piece really pushed me as an artist and im really happy that i had the chance to work on it (-’:

4. early morning.

this one is a more recent piece and i was thinking post canon jaime/brienne married and either living in casterly rock or evenfall hall. originally the sheets were gonna be red with the gold brocade but i just made it green to make their location more ambiguous. they’re in a castle because of the finery, but which castle i have no idea. anyway i love their faces here in particular--jaime because it’s not often that i draw him old (this is the second time i drew old jaime i think?) and i love how he turned out here. i love how he looks like a silver fox and a dilf and we really do love that for brienne. full disclosure, i have no idea how to draw older folks since i don’t have a lot of practice in that area so im glad my lack of experience doesn’t show lmao. i also love how soft brienne looks here! the little smile on her lips is very sweet, her body language and how relax she seems is very telling abt her confidence in this scene also i think i drew her hands hella well haha. all in all i think it’s a really sweet art! and the full version is not so bad either jaime’s ass was referenced from marble sculptures so you know im aiming for Quality. but i love this headcanon of a younger brienne tiring jaime out, i’ve read a handful fics about it and im happy i can do my own version of it hehe

5. unravel.

wow we love domesticity. someone said that if you compile all my ns*w art of them together it’s like they haven’t left their bed ever since they got together and you know what? love that for them it’s what they deserve. anyway i chose this one because of how sensual and simple it is. their body language really does all the talking ; jaime’s hand pulling on the ties on her shift, her hand on his hair, how soft and lazy their kiss looks--it’s enough to tell the story me thinks! i just love how simple this whole thing is but it’s very effective. there’s really not much to it besides what you see but that’s really enough.

i am actually very proud of myself with how productive i’ve been. it’s really not often that i get as much drive and energy to post so much art. iirc my art tag is nearly 200 content already (i think it’s 180 ish rn?) and honestly that’s a LOT if you told me ill be making more than 100+ content for jb i would’ve been like nah im too lazy for that lmao. but im really proud of myself this year! i think i pushed myself as an artist and i’ve familiarized myself more with my strengths as well as my weaknesses. i have a clear idea on the areas that i need to work on, and i’ve really gotten more comfortable with being happy with my own pieces and i’m trying not to put myself down more if something doesn’t go the way i want it to. also, i’ve had the opportunity to work with more people this year--so for the people who has commissioned me or IS commissioning me rn--- thank you so much for trusting me with your visions 😭😭 ive never expected to get this kind of reception with my art but i am very grateful for all of it.

anyway as for the tagging i tag -- @na-bruma-leve / @dreadwulf / @dilfjaime / @fawnilu BUT i would highly recommend you to come along and snatch this tag meme up like a little raccoon because we all should start being proud of our own works imo !!

#long post /#this whole ass essay is me gushing about myself how gemini can i be

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skybiome · 5 years

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Net Outcome

a fic for @mine-sara-sp‘s shadow au! I’m not quite sure if everything lines up with the pre-established fics, so if something doesn’t quite match im sorry

Wels and Biffa were fighting along one of the beaches near the shopping district. They were simply going through the motions of crossing blades, not really talking. All of their focus was on the spar at hand.

With the shadow update and everything that happened as a result, the knight and cyborg hadn't had much time to catch up.

As the sunset over the horizon, Biffa unceremoniously decided that practice would be over at the foot of the statue of hermity, and tripped Wels. He held the point of his sword at the knight’s throat. After a moment, Biffa pointed the sword elseward and offered his friend a hand instead. Wels took it confidently and Biffa pulled him to his feet.

The two struck up a conversation as they walked down to the edge of the water. Wels pulled a checkered blanket out of his inventory and spread it out on the sand. Biffa set a cake on the blanket and Wels handed him a bowl of rabbit stew. Golden carrots may be the most efficient food, but sometimes it was nice to eat a variety of different foods.

Wels set his empty bowl on the blanket and glanced at Biffa before turning to look towards the ocean. He took a deep breath. “Biffa, do you like the shadow update? Like genuinely, do you think it's good?”

Biffa tried to choke down the stew in the mouth to say something, but Wels purposely spoke when his friend had a mouth full of food.

He chuckled at his friend. “And I don’t mean that in a smart-alecky “What is good?” kind of way. I mean do you think that this update will have a net positive in the outcome? For the server?”

Biffa managed to swallow the remains of his food and pounded his chest and took a deep breath. He opened his mouth to speak, but then thought for a second and closed it again. After a minute, he spoke.

“Did you bring me out here for an intervention, Wels?”

“I’m not really sure. I think I just kind of want to talk. We haven’t had the opportunity to lately.”

“Then let’s talk about you. What’s your shadow been up to? Paladin, right?” Biffa cut a slice from the cake, put it on a plate with silverware, and held it out to Wels.

The knight took and cake but just set it in his lap. “Yeah, he goes by Paladin. The Vex shadows took an early liking to him, and just kind of kidnapped him, I think. He’s died a few times.” Wels laughed at something quietly. “And every time he has, the Vex shadows have found me and had me re-summon him.”

Biffa looked alarmed at that news. “Do they just, kidnap you?”

“Sort of?” Wels shrugged and turned towards Biffa. “They don’t keep me or anything. Scar’s shadow normally just flies me to the shadow temple and has me summon him. Then he picks up Paladin and leaves me in the temple. The first couple of times Paladin tried to fight Scar’s shadow, but lately, he seems more begrudging about it. He doesn’t actively fight Scar’s shadow anymore.”

While Wels was talking, Biffa cut his own piece from a cake. “Have the Vex shadows died much?”

“I don’t think so. They can’t talk very well and also act kind of, animalistic isn’ really the right word.” Wels made a motion with his hands as he tried to think. “They act very instinctually. Base urges and all that. Dragons would probably be a pretty apt comparison.”

Biffa gave Wels a questioning look through another mouthful of cake.

The knight took his fork and poked at the cake while he continued to talk. “They have a literal hoard, inside Scar’s volcano. They’ve basically kicked him out of it at this point. I think Scar has snuck in there a few times and he says that there are literally piles of diamond and gold and emerald blocks.”

“How did Scar, of all people, get in there, get out, and proceed to tell the story?” Biffa’s voice clearly conveyed his disbelief.

Wels snorted at his friend’s incredulous tone. “I don’t think he got out alive. Still, I’m scared to think of what could happen if Scar’s and Cub’s shadows got stronger, smarter. I know what Scar’s shadow has died a couple of times. And every time, Cub’s shadow made Scar resummon his shadow.”

Biffa smirked. “I doubt threats would work on Cub.”

“And you’d be right.” Wels looked away from Biffa and towards the moon that was climbing into the night sky.

“Cub’s shadow has only died twice once. The second time it did, Scar’s shadow dragged Cub off to the shadow temple and tried to get him to resummon his friend. Paladin was there too, but Cub refused to summon his shadow and Scar’s shadow killed him in a rage. A few weeks later, Cub finally resummoned his shadow because Scar’s shadow was, I guess lost, is the best way to put it.”

That drew Biffa’s attention. Wels continued to talk towards the ocean.

“For the first few days, he was livid. He attacked everyone but Paladin on sight. He broke a few buildings as well. After that, he apparently refused to leave the hoard and buried himself in his riches. Paladin eventually went to talk to Cub and managed to convince him to resummon his shadow for half a stack of diamonds blocks because Paladin couldn’t stand Scar’s shadow sulking for any longer. Cub agreed and went with Paladin to summon his shadow with an empty inventory. His shadow killed him on sight. A couple of days later, a chest with half a stack of diamond blocks showed up on the ConCorp front lawn along with a note that said: “From Shiny”.”

After Wel finished talking, he took a bite of his cake, waiting for Biffa to say something. When his friend doesn’t speak, Wels sighs.

“We have two shadows that are codependent hoarders, one that enjoys torturing people, several that just enjoy causing chaos, and one whose only goal seems to be gaining as much power as quickly as possible.”

Biffa could tell that that comment was aimed at him. At Apex.

“There are three, maybe four shadows that could be considered beneficial, and I don’t think I would 1 out of 5 a success.”

A moment later, Biffa asked, “Who are the beneficial shadows?”

“What?” Wels looked back at his friend, genuinely caught off guard by the question.

Biffa repeated his question. “Who are the beneficial shadows?”

As Wels stared at him, Biffa took another bite of cake. He had asked a question, and now he wanted an answer.

“Um, the main one is Murmur, Mumbo’s shadow. He’s probably the only one who could actually be described as helpful. The other ones would be Doc’s shadow, Killjoy, and Chill.”

Biffa raised an eyebrow at the name “Killjoy” and smiled when Wels snorted at his expression.

“Doc’s shadow is more scared than beneficial and Killjoy doesn’t like it when shadows mess with someone except their summoner, so he spends most of his time with Joe. And the Joe Hills Difference seems to be mildly contagious.” Wels laughed quietly at his own joke and Biffa smiled through another bite of cake.

“Chill is more than happy to just, well Chill, most of the time. As long as she’s with Iskall’s shadow, she’s happy.”

The knight’s expression fell again, and he took another bite of cake and spoke through it.

“I don’t know, Biffa. The shadows are meant to be a way to duplicate items, but I don’t know if the damage they cause is worth it.”

The two were quiet for a moment, eating cake with the moon still rising in the sky.

Biffa swallowed his bite a cake past the lump in his throat and began to speak.

“I think-”

But he was quickly cut off as a neon blue shape grabbed Wels off the blanket and took off over the ocean. Biffa immediately stood up and put on his elytra. Even at the current distance, Biffa could see that the flying figure was holding Wels by what looked like the wrist. As he lit firework after firework to take off, he watched the figure let go of Wels, still over the water.

---

Wels gasped for air as he got the wind knocked out of him. Scar’s shadow had dropped the knight and grabbed him again to get a better grip. Now, he was being held under the armpits instead of by the arm. As a result, his head was right near the Vex’s. And Scar’s shadow was visibly distraught.

Neon blue tears were leaking from its eyes and ambiently around it, it sounded like someone had set a radio from static. Wels could see several bright blue gashes on the shadow’s arms.

“They’re gone.”

The shadow spoke and caught Wels off guard. “What?”

The shadow’s grip tightened around the knight’s chest. But it didn’t seem aggressive or even intentional.

“The hoard was… They’re…” The shadow seemed frustrated with its inability to speak. Normally it wasn’t an issue, as Cub’s shadow would finish the sentences. But Cub’s shadow wasn’t there to finish the sentences.

“Were you attacked?”

This wasn’t the first trans-oceanic flight, but on none of the others did the shadow strike up a conversation. Before it was almost professional, like Wels was just a step necessary to retrieving Paladin.

“Yes. Shiny is gone. Avarice is gone. Everything…”

“Who is Shiny? Who is Avarice?” When Wels had asked Cub about his experiences with his own shadow, he had mentioned a note from someone named Shiny. But Wels had never heard of someone named Avarice.

The shadow was quiet for a moment. When it spoke there were long pauses as it tried to find the words it wanted. “You… are Shiny. But not… you. Avarice is… is… Avarice is…”

The shadow was even more distraught now. Wels rested his hand over one of the shadow’s in a show that he hoped was placating.

It must have worked, as the shadow finished its sentence.

“Avarice is… my brother.”

Wels finally connected that dots that Shiny must be Paladin. And that meant that Avarice was…

“Is Avarice Cub’s shadow?”

Scar’s shadow didn’t speak but did nod its head.

“Do you have a name?”

“Keloid.”

If the shadow hadn’t been crying, Wels almost would have said that it sounded proud to have a name.

“That’s a nice name. Who gave it to you?”

It was a long pause before Keloid spoke, and Wels guessed that the pause was to think of what to say.

“Hills gave to Shiny. While ago. Shiny gave to me and us.”

Joe had given Paladin the ideas for the Vex names and Paladin had given those names to the Vex.

Wels watched the ocean below pass for a moment. The shadow was flying faster than Wels bet anyone had ever gone on elytra. Even with the small conversation, Keloid seemed to have calmed down and the buzzing noise had gotten quieter.

“Keloid, are you going to be alright?”

When Keloid spoke, he sounded very small.

“I can’t be alone. Not again.”

#im really happy how this came out!#shadow au #my writing #welsknight #biffa

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akeshimas · 4 years

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I drew one of my ocs, Misha, I hope you like it lol I know the background sucks but im actually kind of proud of the sky- anyway i really need to get more background practise in https://look-at-you-strawberry-blonde.neocities.org/180820.html ^ has a better description plus better quality

#oc #my art #art #background practise #•Calla’s Art•#calla’s doodles #calla’s ocs #calla’s misha

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silverclawz · 4 years

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The “Wraith Girl”

There was once a very young happy child, no older than 3 or 4 years. She had golden locks that bounced in the sun and the familiar blue of eyes that have yet to change. And she was proud of her blue eyes. But then one day at daycare, another girl said she drew her picture wrong. The girl laughed and said, “My eyes have always been blue!”

Shaking her head, the other girl pointed and told her her eyes were brown. So after asking to go to the bathroom to check, the poor little girl discovered that the other girl was right. Her brilliant blue eyes that had matched the summer sky on a cloudless day, had become akin to mud.

That was the first to change of many things for the young girl.

By the time she was 5 and entered into the schooling system of her all human village, her pretty golden locks that shone like the sun had begun to turn as well. No longer like wheat freshly ripe im the feilds was it, but more along the lines of the last leaves to fall before winter, a lighter brown than her eyes for sure, but still much too different for her liking. But she learned to love her hair, as it was what all the mothers in town always complimented her on.

Come the next year, all of her infantile chubbiness had faded, and soon the other children started to notice.

“What happened to your skin?” one would ask.

“Are you one of those nasty skin walkers?!” pointed another.

“Did your mommy or daddy turn you into a wraith?”

All of these became a fairly common occurance for the little girl. And it was clear to see why. Her clothes hung off her shoulders loose and ill fitting, even though her mother had taken in the sides to make it appear less obvious. So too, had her mother taken in the waist of her skirts so that they did not fall past her bony hips. But no matter how many times she was taken to the loca doctor and even once to the doctor over in the big city, each time they would assure the girls mother that she was perfectly fine and healthy, that she simply had a high metabolism.

“Don’t worry dearest, you’ll grow out of it” her mother would promise her on their way back home, “We’ve just got to start feeding you more!”

So the girl ate and she ate, and she went to school like nothing was wrong. And even when the other kids would laugh at how bony and thin she was, she’d continue smiling and holding her head up high. But she would soon come to realize that this was not something that would leave her soon.

No, it wasn’t until she was nearly twelve that her body began to fill out, even if it was only just a little. Although, from the girls point of view, going from being able to observe each of her vertebrae in her spine in refined detail and count each of her ribs without even having to feel for them to suddenly hardly being able to notice them at all was fantastic. She smiled so wide at how the backs of the chairs didn’t hurt any more, at how her clothes no longer looked as if they were hanging off the line. And she thought too, that her friends at school would be happy for her too.

“Hey Wraith Girl!” How very wrong she was. So stunned was she, and dehected that she began to isolate herself, no longer chatting with others in the hallways, diligently taking notes and studying rather than going out and playing. Years would pass, and soon her hair had grown so long that she began to have trouble sitting on it. So she’d braid it back and tuck it up or over her shoulder. And after a few years of her silence, the other children stopped calling out to her. Instead, they’d whisper and look at her tentatively.

It seemed that the others, so caught up in their chatting, had failed to notice her when walking in the halls. All the other children had become convinced she was a wraith, for how else could they explain never seeing her at lunch or in the hallways between classes. She must be turning invisible, was one common thought they shared, though the girl could still hear them clearly as she passed. “I think she just teleports outside of each classroom and waits!” Said one boy one day. They were all chatting at lunch outside, even the girl was sitting under the shade of a nearby tree.

“Well, I for one don’t like the idea of a wraith living near me! Mother, of course, agrees with me, but Father insists that he’s talked with their father who is adamant that they aren’t a wraith,” the most popular girl boasted, easily drawing in the attention of the others around her. “I mean, after all, what’s to stop them from cursing us all to bits if we accidentally make them upset?”

“She wouldn’t do that” claimed a boy next to her, “she’s too timid to even try!” The others seemed to be more inclined towards the girls sentiments.

And so, it was after hearing these unsettling conversations that the girl began to become anxious. As the end of the school year approached, along with her 15th birthday, she thought she’d make one last attempt at being friendly with her peers. So, three weeks before the date of the party, she and her mother paid to have all the invitations delivered, asking of course at the bottom of each, to notify the family in advance if anyone wouldn’t be able to make it, with at least 24 hour notice.

The dawn rose on the 4th, and it was as it was just begining its assent that the mother recieved 30 letters, all saying that they were either sick, or that they had gone to a summer house further out and couldn’t make it.

“Mom?”

“Yes dear?”

“Why does no one in school like me?”

The mother turned to her daughter, who was sitting by the window sewing a button back into place, while occasionally stairing out at the blue sky. The same blue that had once colored her irises.

Sighing deeply, her mother shook her head, “I don’t know child. I really don’t. All the mothers’ I’ve talked to recently have all spoken very highly of you,” she paused thinking.

“Perhaps,” the girl began with tears in her eyes, finding it hard to deny the thoughts now circling her mind like a constricting viper, slowly making it harder and harder to breath, “perhaps it’s because they think me ... a-a filthy acursed wraith!” And just as suddenly as she had burst into tears, was she running from the room, going to hide in her own.

Her poor mother looked out, after her, not knowing what to do. She had met wraithes before, back when she was in her own village. Infact, her mother had met many species of travelers, all differing kinds of characters and temperments. It was this knowledge and experience that led her to feel so conflicted now. Yes, it was true, the creation of wraiths was a powerful and potentially dangerous process, but they were all still the kind or generous or brave souls that they had been in life. It was simply that now they inhabited another’s body. But the people of this village hadn’t been near enough to the borders of the kingdom to have met those travelers. They were secluded, and close minded, teaching each new generation of the horrors of the other races. Her mother had never told anyone, except of course her husband, of the fact that she lived with the other races at one point. And she feared that if she were to reveal it now, that her daughter would be blinded by fears and confusion, the mother’s own mind going into the worst case scenario.

It was a knock at the door that drew her from her quiet turmoil. Upon opeing the door, the mother found the village leader, the priest, the doctor and the town grave digger. And it was as she saw the look on her faces, that she became engulfed in an holy fury, the fury that only the mother of a falsly accused child could have.

It would seem, the girls trials had only just begun.

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banditthewriter · 5 years

Text

Best You Ever Had - Billy Russo - 2

Feels good to be posting again! Here you go, part two!

Future parts will have trigger warnings. Feel free to shoot me a message or ask off anon if you have questions or concerns!

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists! Enjoy!

*****

The relationship hadn't fizzled out, despite what you told your friends and relatives. You'd told them that you save face.

No, your relationship with Billy Russo had gone out with a bang.

And now you were being forced to work with him? Not just that, but to work closely with him? Events like these meant being attached at the hip with the security people.

The only person besides you and Billy that knew what happened was your father. He had been there as you cried and screamed. He had watched you silently fume. He watched you throw yourself into your work.

He knew what the fallout had caused and yet he was willing to put aside petty grievances to work with him?

Petty grievances?!

You took a deep breath to control your rage. You wanted to scream. You wanted to march into your father's office and ask him—demand that he tell you what about your broken heart was petty?

Could you work long hours with Billy without wanting to kill him? Or worse, without crying?

You'd have to. You didn't have a choice.

Hopefully Billy would be kind enough to pretend the two of you had never met. Obviously you hadn't meant anything to him while you were together. It was doubtful that that would have changed.

------

Billy tugged you closer, his lips moving across yours at just the right angle to make you gasp.

“You are going to make us late,” you panted breathlessly against his lips even as his hands went to your thighs.

“We’ll tell them that traffic is backed up. We’ll tell them we were caught in traffic.”

You moaned as he spread your legs, his hand working its way up your skirt.

“He has that traffic app. He's just crazy enough to check to make sure.”

Billy pulled back just a hair before he grinned.

“I could tell him that I got distracted by his sexy as hell daughter,” he joked as he trailed kiss after kiss across your neck and chest.

“Don't even joke about that.” You gasped when he tugged on the strap of your shirt, his lips moving to your cleavage. “Fuck it. We can come up with an excuse later.”

His laughter was swallowed by your lips as you tugged him in for a deep kiss.

-----

You made sure your office was clean and straightened. Honestly you'd spent more time making sure your office was presentable than you had on making sure you were ready for Billy to be in your office.

So when he walked in, you were faced with the striking reminder that he was a beautiful man. You'd been startled by his presence before but this? This felt like an attack on you.

“Mr Russo,” you greeted finally as you motioned for him to come in. “You can leave the door open. This should only take a few minutes.”

He raised an eyebrow before he shut the door with a click. Then he moved over to your desk and had a seat. He unbuttoned his jacket and leaned back, making himself as comfortable as could be.

Had you loved his laissez faire attitude before? That was definitely in the past.

“I had some questions about the sleeping arrangements,” he said as he shifted in his seat, pulling the folder up to flick through it. “I'm going to need at least three more rooms since I'm bringing a covert team as well.”

That drew you up short.

“There wasn't anything about a covert team,” you said with a shake of your head. You had vetoed that in preference to having a more obvious presence.

“Your father wrote it into the contract that I signed yesterday because of recent threats made against multiple of the senators and one of the business leaders that will be at the conference.”

You tried to keep your face neutral but you knew you had failed.

“I suppose your dad had forgotten to mention that to you? Just like he forgot to mention that he'd reached out to me a few days ago.”

A few days ago? You released the pen to keep from snapping it in your anger.

“I am running point on this conference Mr Russo, so all future changes need to start here. I'll go ahead and get three more rooms since there's a need for an increased presence at the hotel.”

Billy nodded after a moment. He pulled a paper from his folder and passed it over to you.

“I took the liberty of going over the blueprints of the hotel as well. Here are my suggestions of security presence.”

You looked it over with a nod, eyes barely registering the marks on the page.

“I'll defer to your expertise on that,” you said as you stood up and went to the scanner in your office. “I want to do a dry run before the people start to arrive. Will you be able to have all of your guys at the hotel tomorrow morning at five?”

You'd just finished scanning the prints. When you turned, Billy wasn't looking at you. He was staring at the books on your shelf.

You scanned them before you froze. In the middle of them all was a book Billy had brought you from one of his overseas trips. It had designs from some of the most famous tourist spots around the world.

The two of you had planned a world tour by that book, but things had fallen apart before it came to be.

“Mr Russo,” you snapped as you held the paper out for him.

“You don't have to call me that,” he said evenly as he took the papers back. “I think after all this time, you can call me Billy.”

How dare he. How dare he reference the time you two had spent together. The time you wasted on a man incapable of love.

“If it was up to me, I wouldn't call you anything.”

You were not proud of how cold your voice was, but you did get a guilty joy from seeing Billy flinch at your words.

“If that's all, Mr Russo?”

He cleared his throat and stood up with a quick nod.

“I'll see you at five,” he said as he excused himself.

Alone in your office, you shut the door and went back to your chair. Your eyes strayed to the book that you hadn't touched in almost a year.

You should have thrown it away but for some reason you couldn't.

Maybe one day.

Let me know if you want to be added to my Permanent Tag List @hermioneshandbag @onebatch--twobatch @smiley-celine @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @starless-skyox @youveseen--thebutcher @citation-is-here @mightymelly @realduckvader @1550kilogramsofsilver @hxbbit @rockintensse @missphanosaur18 @thepuffyeyedpuff @kararanae23 @yessy2012 @gingerstarlight @siriusement @marauderskeeper @xinyourdreamsx @wickidlady @sassygirl25 @maraudereestauderelb @rainyboul @cutie-bug @random-quartz @holamor @lea----b @heyitslexy @detectivebourbon @coffeenmoscato @presstocontinue @elisemockingbird @assbuttwithwings @geeksareunique @siriuslovesmarlene @witch-of-letters @delicatelilyflower @l-l-c-m-w-b @whovianayesha @hiddenprincess @yannii04 @jeanettexkillian @brighteststarinthesky @kilyra @gallxntdean @sweetvengeancee @lady1505 @thedarklightwithinus @ateliefloresdaprimavera @siriuslyimmoony @elodieyung @fudgeflyss @madamrogers @thatwrestlingfan91 @teranya @sophiabulbu69 @delusionsofnostalgia @effielumiere @mamaraptor @hot-and-spiceyyy @i-padfootblack-things @aya-fay @fcavalerro @sithskywalkers @raquelbc2003 @nildaebony @iwishyoucouldbekissed @lostinthoughts23 @tamanamohain @newtstarmander @suchatinyinfinity @blushingskywalker @queencocoakimmie @funerals-with-cake @love-dria @arrowswithwifi @swiftyhowlz @cheyfleur @dark-night-sky-99 @margot-black @celestegolden @king4thesirens @beautifuldesastre @ashkuuuu @luminex3 @nerdypinupcrystal @iblogabout-stuff @curlyhairedblueeyedangel @myplaceofheavenorhell @cafeconsoya @kryyta @russosprettydiamondnow @dorkybryan @mahalobro @yesixoxo

Let me know if you want to be added to my Billy Russo Tag List @something-tofightfor @piink-magnolias @hoodedhavok @aylinnmaslow @musingsofbanana @bluebird214 @rileyblues @nerrdstark @that-bwitch @ethereal-heavcns @queenisabella789 @colddecember-night @j-finco @arthoeaesthetixbs @tomhiddlestonsbeard @mischiefs-never-managed @romanceyour-ego @evyiione @drinix @sweetheart-im-the-boss @thebabblingbook @katieswinforddiaries @benbarnesfanforever @releasethekracko @itsjustmylifeconfessions @nostalgic-uncertainty @aveatquevale- @clarasworldofwonders @ladyblablabla @thehanneloner @hellostarposts @girlwhoisfearless @maria-beretta @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo @marcelskittel @fictionwillneverdie @avipshamitra @hysteriadarling @living-on-rice @hello-la-v-en-rose @tiredofthisgeneration @marveliskindacool @giggleberts @stateofloveandvedder @encounterthepast @ironstank @spettrocoli @xserenax-13 @sleepwalkingelite @dreamingofonceuponatime @supernaturalcat7 @rosebunnie @damagelove @petersunderoos96 @dylanobrusso @littlemermaidprobz @agent-scully-182 @editboutique @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @ania2603 @screwmesiriusblack @figlia--della--luna @balladblood @cloudywithachanceofcupcakes-blog @jessicahh @flightoftheflightrisk @slamharder @roschele

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #my writing #best you ever had

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aestheticvoyage2019 · 5 years

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October 2019

A classic month to bounce back. Im proud of this body of work for October 2019. Seeing the fall color in the yellow aspens in Flagstaff and the colorful maples in Canada. A sunrise in long sought Reflection Canyon, way way out, and night sky from Kerry Park. A wedding at Mile High with a beautiful date. A baseball team that brought joy one week, before getting skunked out the next, and the thrill of hitting on some bets on an underdog world series winner. I learned to make a viper roll, and quinoa burgers and basil pesto. Crashed an overnight in Seattle, and visited campuses north of the border. Smoked a cuban in Montreal with my Dad, rode a scooter and sipped kava with my buddy Cory, held a baby made by my buddy Dave, and had happy hour counsel with my good friend Chad- dudes. 3,500 miles of roadtrip. Plus all the little moments and stories all filled into the gaps. Thats a classic collection. Thats all the kind of therapy I needed in October. So many great days, good photos, awesome experiences, crooked roads, colorful leaves, intense baseball, and fun people. Covered a whole lot of ground this month.

And so now onto the homestretch of 2019. Two last chances to make this year great. With all the fun had in October, its time to dial back in to my health and finish the years mission as strong as I can. The pace of play has been intense the past few weeks, and we’ve managed it really well. Time now to refocus and get back to work, with a happier heart and clear vision forward to the end of the year.

Best Day: October 6 - Sunrise on Reflection Canyon AND Oct 31 - Wolfe Island & Montreal

Best Song: Drew Holcomb ft Lone Bellow - Dragons

Best Quote: “I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.” ― Joan Didion

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0bfvscate · 5 years

Text

Halloway’s Night Out

Fanfiction for @nothwell‘s sequel to Mr. Warren’s Profession, Throw His Heart Over.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Alcohol use, mild sexual content, references to violence and drug use

Summary: John Halloway celebrates selling his most recent, and most controversial painting, The Fall of Icarus, with dinner and wine, but true to form, neither Halloway nor his dear friend Cyril Graves manage to do anything in a quiet or orderly way.

The reception to the painting was mixed. Some called it a masterful use of technique, others an aesthetic triumph. Others called it a debasement of ancient myth, a clear excuse to indulge in homosexual tendencies, and an affront to good taste. Halloway heard people call him both a genius and a monster for displaying the vaunted Icarus as a scarred and beaten man, and felt a bit thrilled to invoke such strong reaction.

Until he saw Warren in the crowd. Warren was a quiet man with quiet habits who preferred his privacy. Warren’s eyes darted around the room as he squeezed through the crowd toward the painting, trying to reach it without making any sign that he was there. Halloway came to the sudden realization he’d brought a very private friend to an event celebrating his naked, painted form. Halloway could see him struggling to be invisible, squirming in his suit when he bumped in to someone, apologized, and saw their eyes flicker over his scars.

Halloway jumped through the crowd. “Warren!”

His voice did not have its intended effect. Instead of being a life raft thrown into open water, it seemed to act like a bullet at a hart.

“Come here,” Halloway called, struggling with the tools at his disposal for some anchor to ground his model. “Let me shake your hand—find you a glass—no? Very well, as you wish—but do allow me to introduce you to my friend—Mr Talbot—the proprietor of this fine establishment.”

—and reached behind himself to extract one Mr. Edward Talbot, art patron, critic and former tailor. He’d inherited a strong business sense, an eye for color, and a tailor’s shop from his father, which he then liquidated and converted into a gallery for the sake of art.

“How do you do.” said Mr Talbot.

Aubrey replied in kind, but with mounting meekness as Talbot’s eyes widened with recognition. Talbots’ customary congratulations to the model froze on his lips and a yawning silence stretched in its place.

“Mr Warren,” said Halloway, clapping his free hand upon Aubrey’s shoulder, “is the celebrated model.”

“Indeed,” said Mr Talbot. “I thank you, sir, for making such a splendid work possible. Your visage is a most inspiring one. Forgive me for abandoning you so soon, but I’m afraid business calls me elsewhere. Good evening, Mr Warren. It was a pleasure meeting you. I hope to see you again soon.”

He gave them each a nod and vanished into the crowd as easily as a ghost, where his absence was filled with Halloway’s annoyance. Talbot failed to offer Warren any comfort, and left him still and fragile and unsteady as a newborn fawn. If only Warren drank, Halloway would have given him some liquid courage.

“Talbot thinks we might have an offer on the painting this very night,” Halloway blurted out.

“That’s good,” Aubrey replied, though his uncertainty turned the remark into a question.

“It’s very good,” Halloway confirmed. “Better than I’d hoped—though no less than I feel it deserves, if I may be honest at the risk of being arrogant. Have you seen it yet?”

When Aubrey admitted he’d not yet glimpsed the painting hanging in the gallery, Halloway bid him follow, and carved a path through the crowd to the wall. Every wall in the gallery bore artworks from floor to ceiling, but Icarus Fallen seemed to have a glow all its own. Or did Halloway imagine it? Did it draw his eye for the piece of himself he recognized within it, or was there something universal in its composition? Did it have that unmistakable spark of beauty that every artist chased, or was it just a nice painting that he was proud of?

Aubrey craned his neck upward towards the painting, and for a moment, he seemed at peace.

“What do you think?” Halloway asked.

“It’s… impressive,” Aubrey said at last.

Halloway smiled, but before he could say more, a hand clapped him on the shoulder.

“Halloway,” the man said. “Tell me more about this recent painting. Tell me where you found the nerve.”

And with that, the crowd drew him back in, where he was in his element.

By ten the gallery was shut up, the champagne was gone, and Richard Talbot was using Halloway’s coat and hat as a lion tamer used a chair.

“You ought to apologize to my friend Warren,” Halloway said. Graves had his fingers in the back of his jacket and was trying to pull him toward the exit. “He’s a very handsome man, you know. Very kind, very gentle. He’s sort of like a deer.”

“For God’s sake, John,” Graves grumbled. “The event is over and we’re starving. If we stay here any longer the party will end.”

“I know, I’m coming. And I’m not upset with you, I’m just a bit protective of the poor chap. He’s like a deer.”

“I understand completely.” Mr. Talbot said, advancing on him with the coat and hat.

“He saved an entire factory. That’s why he’s got those scars. Have I told you that?”

“Yes.” Talbot said.

“You’re drunk.” Graves said.

“You’re drunk.”

“I think you’d both do well to have a hot dinner and a nice cup of coffee.” Mr. Talbot said, taking another step forward with the hat and coat.

“Oh, yes. Splendid.” Graves answered.

“I just want you to know—“

“I know, John,” Mr. Talbot said, finally saddling Halloway with his own coat and hat and giving him a gentle pat. “I know.”

And then they were out in the street, unsteadily climbing into the hansom. They collapsed on top of one another and awoke some twenty minutes later feeling like watersodden logs, but after food, coffee, and yet more liquor, they both felt as fresh as spring rain.

“To Icarus!” Graves cried. “To a man who died a noble death, in the pursuit of absolute, ideal beauty. A man who stretched out his hand to touch the sun and felt its fire burning. Here’s to a man who flew out of prison and fell to the sea.”

“Now I’m not arguing against the technical skill,” said Hainsley, the editor and founder of his own magazine. “It is clearly a beautifully painted piece. What I am arguing against is the choice to mutilate Icarus.”

“He fell out of the sky and smashed on the rocky earth,” Halloway argued. “If I wanted to mutilate him, I would have done much worse then a bruising.”

“Exactly. That’s my point. You can’t argue for realism, since true realism would reduce the painting to an unrecognizable, pornographic mess. If Icarus Fallen were pure veritism it would hardly be a painting at all. Your choices were weighed accordingly, which is every artist’s right, but I respectfully disagree with your decisions.”

“Well, sir, I respectfully disagree with yours. Icarus has been portrayed in art for thousands of years, and I for one am tired of seeing unending galleries full of heroes in unblemished death throes.”

“God, are we going to sit at this table forever?” Asked Forsyth from the other end. “I’ve been stuffed in this jacket all day.”

Next they went to the Catullus club, descending on it like a flock of bats if bats waddled on foot after too much food and wine. The club was a relatively sedate place at that time of night, except for a few private parties bursting with exclamations and loud thuds from behind locked doors. They took the main room and filled it with noise and smoke as the company and the alcohol brought them all a new burst of energy. The staff, noticing the celebratory nature of their party, circled them like moths.

Halloway had a very pretty toff sitting on the arm of his chair while Graves proudly recounted his triumphs. The toff was a bit too pretty for Halloway, incessantly barring eyelashes he’d enhanced with kohl and cheeks darkened with rouge. Hainsley was sitting on the other side of the chair and salivating up at the pretty toff. Halloway, eventually, retrieved his arm from the toff and used it to wrap around Graves.

“Couldn’t we move the pronouncements to a private room?” He asked.

Graves, frozen in the act of giving a speech, took his time to arrive at John’s point. “I’m not averse, if you don’t mind leaving you adoring entourage.”

“I’d prefer it.” He admitted quietly.

Graves raised his eyebrows, but got out of his chair without comment. “Very well. Excuse us, gentlemen.”

The orderly at the welcome desk gave them a key to a room on the second floor. By the time they arrived, towels, lubricant and a clean water basin were laid out for them by the bed.

“Didn’t that pretty young gentlemen interest you at all?” Graves asked, pulling off his shoes.

“God, no,” Halloway answered. “Although if you’ve a fancy—“

“Hmm. Do I? Well, I’d certainly give it a try. But why not? He seemed very partial to you.”

“Shame I’m not much for willowy boys.” Halloway grumbled.

Graves laughed. “So it’s another question for aesthetics! Tell me, John, what disinterests you so in beauty?”

“‘Beauty’ isn’t a predetermined factor,” Halloway declared, giving up on untying his tie and just pulling it apart. “If it were, the Asthetes wouldn’t have anything to talk about.”

“Isn’t it? A truth doesn’t become less true for having facets, nor are gems less expensive for them. If beauty were in the eye of the holder, a painting could not be celebrated. As an artist, you must admit that beauty is generally agreed upon.”

“As an artist, I can tell you now that beauty is a trend that comes and goes,” he struggled to pull off his socks and eventually let himself fall forward, onto the bed. “No one today would paint a Rueben.”

“But there is still something enduring about their beauty.” Graves mused. He was stretched out in his chair, waistcoat unbuttoned and only one sock off. He seemed to have forgotten he was unbuttoning his pants.

Halloway jumped up on the bed and flipped over to work on his pants. “Alright, let’s you and I discuss the female form.”

“My, you are in a rare mood.” Graves mumbled.

“Exactly— Exactly!” Halloway cried, triumphant, standing on the bed in his johns and shirt. “We’d never deny a woman her beauty, but would you take one to bed?”

Graves made a few noncommittal noises.

“What about the most beautiful woman at the opera? What if I were to introduce you to Miss Virginia Stendhal, who sat for my celebrated painting of Persephone?”

“Oh but that brings us back to the point, my dear, which is that people find Ms. Stendhal beautiful but pity her for the sitting!”

“No, my point is that she’s beautiful, but neither of us would fuck her.”

“You put the poor woman in an unhappy marriage,” Graves pouted. “Persephone, the goddess of spring, the personification of the bloom of youth, staring at Hades as if wishing she could put him in his own pit. What a waste!”

“But why?” Halloway cried. “Why can’t I? I haven’t done anything wrong. I love those stories just as much as anyone else, and you can’t argue that no one sees them as I do, because people have told me they do!”

Graves was laughing, shaking his chair with quiet mirth. “You see, John, this is why I admire your work. You’ll do what you like and stamp your foot when people tell you they don’t like it.”

“Oh, you’re just mocking me.” Halloway said. He wobbled, fell to his knees, then landed face down on the bed. The darkness there was warm, soft and inviting, and he was in the process of exploring deeper when Graves pulled him upright. He sat on the edge of wakefulness, judging the benefits of each side of consciousness, when Graves tipped the scale. He kissed him, cupping the back of Halloway’s head in his hands. He was so warm that Halloway let him carry him fully into wakefulness, pressing his tongue against Graves’ lips until they opened and let him explore. When they’d gotten all their clothes off he pressed his chest to Graves’ and felt his heart beating on the other side. The rasp of skin and short, dark hairs tingling over his body made him flush with heat, but when he reached between Graves’ legs he found his cock still soft.

“Give me a minute.” Graves promised, pushing John onto his back. His lips tickled his skin as he kissed down Halloway’s collarbone and into the sensitive skin between his thighs, but though desire pumped through his blood his little soldier was too drunk for a full salute.

They tried a few more times, and sometime before three Halloway was startled awake by a sudden knocking on the door.

“Halloway! Graves!” Someone shouted. Halloway waited for them to announce themselves or explain what they wanted, but there was just silence on the other side. There was shuffling, then quiet, disappointed muttering and an embarrassed retreat.

“Who was that?” Graves mumbled, lifting his head up. He made a face and scraped a hair off his tongue, then slowly lifted a bit farther off the bed and took in their surrounded. “Where are we? And, good god— what are these hideous statues?”

“I think,” Halloway said, careful not to make any concrete proclamations in light of his irrational condition. “That we have abandoned our party.”

“Nonesense. We’ve only been gone a few minutes.”

Halloway searched the room for a clock, and was relieved to find a small one on the mantle. He got up and squinted at it, but although he could see both hands, neither figure shared information with him.

“I think we’ve been gone a bit longer then that.” He said tentatively.

Now it was Graves’ turn to stop and think, churning through the butter that was once his brain for all the pieces of the night to lay out in order.

“No,” he said, but that was just a reflex, come from the certainty that Cyril Graves did not abandon a party. As it dawned on him that that was indeed what he had done, the finger resting on his chin migrated north and pushed nervously into his upper lip. “Oh.”

“I think we abandoned the party, Cyril.”

“Oh,” Graves said, then got to work collecting his clothes. “Well, let’s resolve that.”

They abandoned their futile efforts to put the room back together and stopped by the front desk to drop off their key. But when they reached the sitting room, it was empty. Nothing remained of their party except for crystal cups with rings of liquid, and one cigar still smoking in an ashtray. As they stared at the ribbon of smoke rising up, they heard a giggle behind them. Glancing over their shoulder, they saw the pretty toff from before wrapped in a curtain, trying to hide but shaking with mirth.

He explained when they approached; “When you two disappeared, the others went to look for you, and that became a game of hide and seek. Right now it’s Hainsley seeking, and he’s terrific. He gets so angry when he can’t find anyone.”

To prove it, the toff encouraged them to hide behind a large potted plant. Within minutes Hainsley came in and began to turn the sitting room over, cursing the whole time. The toff was helpless with laughter, covering his mouth with both hands to smother the hiccups and gasps that escaped. Hainsley caught the echo of a cough and lifted his head with alertness, as dogs did during hunts. Slowly he inched forward, and pounced on a couch at the edge of the sitting room. He paused, as if checking his success, then threw the pillows aside and cursed again.

The toff was helpless with laughter.

Halloway straightened up and stride towards the editor. “Hainsley!”

The man jumped. “Halloway! There you are! We’ve been looking for you for ages. Don’t tell me you lost Graves on your way back from Fairyland.”

“Of course not,”Graves said, leaning against the potted plant with an air of ennui. “But what are you doing to that poor couch?”

“The bastards all thought it’d be funny to hide after you went missing.”

“Or perhaps they are the ones whisked off the Fairyland.” Graves mused.

“Anyways, all the servants have gone to bed and I need another drink.”

“Perhaps we could use another drink.” Halloway agreed. His poor, pickled brain was trying to shut up for the night, but like a bicycle with the breaks cut he could only keep moving.

As they were making up their minds of where to go and how they could get another drink so late at night, members of their party popped one by one out of doorways and down the stairs.

“Hainsley, you spoilsport!”

“Are we getting a night-cap?”

“Do you know of a place that will still be open?”

“No,” Graves said. “Regrettably, we’ll have to go home for hospitality.”

It was no longer the blackest night, but the blackest morning. Halloway was speculating on the change in atmosphere that seperated morning from night in the wee hours. Was it the dew in the air that changed the texture of the darkness, or simply the knowledge that dawn was approaching? Or was it instead the weight of his body on his mind, dragging just a step behind his alert consciousness, like a cranky child?

“Here we are. At last,” Cyril said, banging on the front door. “Open up! Come on, we don’t have all night.”

But the door did not open. Soon the whole party took up a chorus of the demand and chanted it like a drinking song.

“Open up! We don’t have all night!”

Lights glowed behind the drawn curtains and the door was abruptly opened. The party poured into the foyer, still chanting.

“Open up! We don’t have all night!”

Someone clipped John’s nose in their clumsy effort to remove their jacket, and another fell on his back as they were trying to untie shoes.

“What in heaven’s name is going on?” Demanded a voice.

Graves was trying to reason with the sober individual. “Now, listen, would you turn away an old friend for celebrating the triumph of an artistic master? This is a triumph. Triumphant. We are triumphant!”

“For god’s sake, sit down before you fall down.” Answered the sober tyrant, and orders for bedclothes and water were answered with the drumming of feet which seemed to circle Halloway before entering his skull and stamping around the dome.

“This is not a triumph,” said a second sober voice. “This is tragedy. You look like a platoon of wounded soldiers limping home.”

“Oh, come, have a nightcap with us.” Hainsley slurred.

“You’ve finished off the night, there’s nothing to cap.”

“A toast to our host!” Shouted a different voice, and when John turned to identify it, discovered the toff from the club had come out with them.

“You need to go to bed. You’ll all feel like death in the morning.” “Oh, thank god. A piano! At last, we’ll have music!” Forsyth had made it into another room, plopped down on to the piano bench, and begun playing a waltz as slurred as his speech, alone, in the dark.

“No-- no! Absolutely not!”

“Gentlemen!” Cried a voice. John turned towards it and beheld a women on the stairs. At first, he mistook her slender, loosely-draped silhouette for Grecian garb, and the woman at her elbow as some Olympian attendant. But then the weights and pulleys in his brain settled into balance and he recognized it as a nightgown. “Welcome! And congratulations!”

The whole party gave out a cheer.

“You all look like you’ve had a fabulous night!”

Another rousing cheer.

“I propose a toast!”

Their party lost their minds. There was applause and stamping of feet.

“One last toast to the hero of tonight, Mr. John Halloway!”

She was like a priest, and they her feverish followers. John felt tears prick his eyes. A servant appeared and put a glass in his hand, with something cool and sweet. It tasted like a fruit juice, and for the life of him he could not settle on the flavor of the alcohol. It was very delicate, and mixed perfectly with the cocktail’s foundation.

“We drink to Artemis, and she brings us ambrosia!” He cried.

“Fine lady, I’d say you should sit for Halloway, but not a soul here can predict how the results will look!” Hainsley brayed, and everyone fell over themselves laughing.

She bowed graciously. “Gentlemen, my house is yours. I place my servants at your disposal. If any of you should need anything, you need only let them know. I beg you to forgive me of my absence.”

The party made a loud, collective noise, but the tone of their response was impossible to decipher. Not even Halloway could tell if he was disappointed that she was leaving them or begging her to do as she saw fit. She, her attendant, and the two masters of the house left them in the sitting room, among the pillows and blankets that were brought down when they first arrived. The toff was fast asleep, curled around a folded blanket like a child. Hainsley, after sitting down and having some of whatever substance was in his glass, was frozen in place, his mouth hanging open.

“What fine people,” Graves said. He was still upright, still smiling his knowing smile, but there was something off-balance about his posture. “What a wonderful night. Where’s Forsyth?” They discovered Forsyth asleep on the piano.

“They act like they’ve never had a drink before.” Graves muttered.

“Let’s leave them and have another drink,” Halloway said. “That cocktail she gave us was wonderful. What did you think of it?” “Something with apple.” Graves said pensively.

“She said we could ask for another. Didn’t she leave some of her people with us?”

They checked the rooms and the hallway around the sitting room, but everywhere was dark and empty.

“I can’t see a thing. Where’s a candle?”

“I can’t find any,” Graves said, slapping countertops along the wall for something to light. There was a clang and a bump and a series of heavy metal objects fell to the floor as Graves cursed. “How the devil did they get the lights on and off so fast? I can’t even smell the candle smoke.”

“Perhaps it’s electric?”

“Where are the lamps?”

Halloway tripped on a lurking ottoman and sprawled across the rug. Graves made a show of disgust as he pulled him up.

“John, please.”

“As if I chose to fall!”

Abruptly they found themselves back in the piano room with Forsyth, still peacefully asleep on the bench.

“Witchcraft!” Halloway cried. “She plans to turn us into pigs!”

Graves scoffed. “We must have gone the full circuit of the house. The staff must be asleep.”

“What do they expect us to do?” Halloway cried.

“Sleep, I’d expect,” Graves said. He put his hand between the curtains and lifted up a corner. “The sun is coming up.”

“No.”

Graves stepped back from the window to offer his view. True to his word, there were the pink clouds rising in the east, the red light of dawn coloring the pale sky. They pushed back the curtains and stood in the early dawn light as the sun rose. The air under the curtain had the same chill as the outdoors, whereas behind it, in the sitting room, was still warm and dark and full of the even sounds of sleep.

“We should get to bed.” Halloway said. They joined the rest of their party on the floor of the sitting room, sober enough to spread out the cushions and blankets to make their bed. Without their shoes, coats or shirts they had a very comfortable bed, and Halloway drifted quickly off to sleep.

Halloway woke up with a headache as fierce as if he’d been beaten. His tongue was so dry it felt swollen in his mouth. He could barely open his eyes. As consciousness overtook him, and pain overtook his body, all he could manage was a helpless groan.

“I thought you’d say as much,” said a familiar voice. “Sit up, we brought you breakfast.”

Sitting up was a tall order to fulfill. Halloway only managed to roll over, and when he did was blinded with a flash of sunlight bright enough to pierce straight through his eyelids.

“Come on.” Coaxed the voice.

Now on his back, he had both arms at his disposal to lift him up, and he managed to struggle himself into a sitting position. Warren and Althorp were standing before him, to Halloway’s relief looking more indulgent than furious. The others from their party were sitting up around him, their collars and hair askew and each looking as glassy and tired as Halloway felt. The ground seemed to be tilting beneath him.

Three trays were placed on the ground of the sitting room, in easy grabbing distance to the drunkards. On each tray was a pile of toast, peppermint tea, butter and a little cold chicken, shredded into easy bites.

“How did we get here?” Halloway asked.

“You would have to tell us.” Althorp said.

“Why did we…” Halloway began, but trailed off as his train of thought left him, evaporating like water in the sun.

“Who was the woman?” Hainsley asked. “Who are you? Where are we?”

“This is my good friend Sir Lindsey Althorp.” Graves said, leaning forward to take a dry piece of toast. “The two women were his wife and sister, Lady Emmeline Althorp and Lady Rowena Althorp.”

“Where are we?” The toff asked.

“Halloway, what happened last night? What brought you here?”

“I can’t for the life of me remember,” Halloway admitted. “We were going to have one last drink and go to bed.”

“We’re glad to help, but don’t do that again.” Warren said.

Halloway grimaced and gave them a toast with his peppermint tea.

“Wonder where my hansom is.” Graves muttered.

“London, I’d expect.” Althorp said.

“Naturally.” Graves responded bitterly.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Very carefully, Halloway put his fears into words.

“Where is London?”

“England?” Althorp answered tentatively.

“Not here,” Warren said. “You’re in Manchester.”

“What!?” Halloway cried. “How in the world did we coordinate a train ride!?”

“That’s what we wondered, as well.” Warren remarked.

“You said they had space for all of us.” Hainsley said.

“This is the beauty of the intoxicated mind,” Graves said serenely. “We are capable of so much, without our inhibitions to hold us back. Gautier wrote extensively on the visions he saw while under the influence of hashish--” “I hope you weren’t smoking that, last night.” Althorp said with all the sternness of a disapproving parent.

“I hope you don’t need to get that drunk again to find your way back.” Warren said.

“I suppose I could impose on your hospitality a bit longer for a hansom back to my lodgings.” Halloway said. He still couldn’t remember getting on a train with Graves or the others, but it was becoming easier to see why he would argue the party move to Manchester while he was at his drunkest. Despite all the travelling he did, Manchester was still home. Manchester had all the comforting amenities a drunken Halloway would crave, and a drunken Halloway could wax poetic on their benefits until an equally drunken group of men were happy to follow him across the country.

In fact, of all of them, the toff was the only one with any difficulty getting home.

“My mother will be worried.” He said.

“Tell her you were out with friends.” “I think she’ll expect that. She’ll say not to worry about her, but she does for me, and I do for her.”

As Halloway was putting himself together, smoothing down his hair with a little of Althorp’s pomade, Warren approached him.

“I’ve never seen you like that before last night,” he said quietly. “Do you drink yourself into that condition often?”

“No, not often. Last night was a celebration.”

“I didn’t like to see you that way, Halloway,” Warren admitted. “You weren’t the man I respected.”

Halloway gave him a hard look, drying up any temperance speech that might be forthcoming. “Warren, until my drunken behavior overtakes my life, I’ll thank you not to proselytize.”

“I’m not proselytizing. I’m pointing out to you that you bought a train ticket in a state of total unconsciousness. That you’re safe and sound in our house this morning is pure luck. I’m telling you, as your friend, that drinking yourself unconscious isn’t a habit to make!”

Halloway sighed. It was unfair to treat Warren like a nagging puritan in the wake of troubling behavior. Even Halloway had to admit that last night could have taken a turn for the worst at any point, and he was in Warren and Althorp’s debt for providing them with a safe place to sleep for the night. If they’d forced them to sleep in the horse stables, no one would have blamed them-- not even Halloway.

“You’re right, of course. I was a bit out of control, and I can’t dismiss my behavior just by saying that I don’t do it often. I ought to be more careful in future,” Halloway said. A smile slowly overtook his face. “But it was quite a night.”

Warren gave him a smile in return.

He walked Halloway to the front door, where Graves was waiting to drive with him into town.

“Halloway, I have a final question about art,” Warren said. “Do you ever miss your paintings after they’ve gone?”

“No.” Halloway said.

Warren seemed taken aback by his certainty. “Never?”

“I have better paintings to make.”

Warren was quiet for a moment, and then slowly a genuinely cheerful smile spread across his face.

“Naturally.”

Halloway gave him a warm handshake. “We’ll meet in town, shall we? I’ll send a card around.”

“I’d like that.”

#fanfiction #sebastian nothwell #mr warrens profession #lindsey althorp #aubrey warren #john halloway #cyril graves #historical fiction #fiction #gay fiction

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captain039 · 6 years

Text

Mighty god

Thor x reader

Summary: some imagines

Btw if i ever repeat a story please tell or if ive written like the same plot because i have no fckn clue😂

Warnings: i rate this M because its manly😂

Rescue

It was cold way to cold for your liking. Your eyes opened seeing nothing but a black sky, where were you?

"Awake at last" you jumped at the rather deep voice you shot up seeing a giant monster. You froze wondering what the hell.

"W-who are you where am i?" You asked rushed the giant snickering.

"You my dear are on Jotunheim" the thing said. Your attention turned to the large crash far away seeing a familair ray of aura shining down. A figure stood as the giant chuckled deeply walking away locking you in the cell. You saw lighting emit from the sky realizing it was Thor. He killed every giant he saw before reaching you and freeing you. His face was stern and angry you didnt like it when be was mad. He took you back to earth you assume almost puking from the sudden travel.

"I told you to stay hidden" you turned to him.

"Hidden all i did was open my door to get some damn pizza" you huffed ar him crossing your arms. You didnt want to be stuck at home 24/7 you were a supposed target now being friends with a good. Though you knew your feelings were more then friends but how could a god love a human?

"Just be careful" he sighed as you nodded not wanting to argue.

"Are you ok?" He asked you nodded the chains around your wrists left a red mark but it wasnt major. Thor noticed though grabbing your hand gently as you sighed his gently fingers brushing over it making you rip your hand back.

"Sorry, lets get some ice" he said as you nodded realising you were in your backyard. He had a nack for ruining lawn.

He sat you down helping himself to ice before coming back to you and placing it on your wrist.

"Im fine Thor" you huffed again.

"Your not" he said as you rolled your eyes, you weren't some delicate glass artifact.

"How did you find me?" You asked after some silence.

"Heimdall" you nodded. He was always so gently with you, you wished he wasn't it always made your heart flutter.

"Ok im good now" you removing his hand he sighed placing the icepack on the counter. Even sitting up on the counter he was still taller only slightly though. His blue eye's stared into yours as you felt yourself blush.

"What?" You asked as he blinked averting his gaze.

"Nothing your just beautiful" your whole body froze did he?

You watched him as moved his hands either side of you as you were frozen in shock. One of his hands made it to your face as you jumped slightly his thumb caressing your cheek. You breathed out slowly trying to calm yourself, it wasnt working. His face was inches from yours as you gulped muttering a screw it before connecting your lips. The kiss was like sparks his hand gripping your face gently. You both pulled away for air resting your forehead on each others. You chuckled quietly as he frowned at you.

"What?" He questioned as you shook your head.

"You an idiot" you muttered kissing him again.

Servent warrior

You were a servant at the castle of Asgaurd working day and night. You often saw the royals going about there day queen frigga sometimes greeting you. It was a lovely place to work at though you were more for adventure. You would often sneak out at night running into a small part of the forest where you would test your archery over and over getting the rush. You didn't realise you were followed this time before a voice called.

"Didn't know you were an archer" you turned to the voice pointing am arrow at them. You saw the prince Thor as you quickly lowered you weapon bowing in apoligise.

"Im so sorry my lord" you said as he let out a light chuckle.

"Dont be lady Sif has threatened me many times" you still felt shame pointing an arrow at him.

"Where did you learn to fight?" He asked.

"My father before he passed" you said as he nodded.

"Sorry" he replied.

"Its alright" you said with a smile.

"Why do you not join as a warrior?" He asked as you froze in shock before stuttering your words out.

"No, no im just a servant i clean for gods sakes my mother doesn't even know" you said rushed as he nodded a small smile on his face.

"Maybe i could teach you more?" He asked as you frowned.

"Teach me?" You asked as he nodded.

"Though you have natural talent i doubt you need more but maybe a better place to practice?" He said as you didnt know what to say.

"I but im a servant my prince" you said as be sighed nodding.

"I know that but you could be a great warrior one day" he said offering you a smile before walking back to the castle. You dwelled on what he said cleaning something when someone tapped your shoulder. You turned seeing the prince again giving hima bow.

"I never got your name" he said.

"Y/n my prince" you said as he smiled.

"Lovely name" you blushed slightly as he smiled wacing goodbye.

You did train with him and soon you became the best archer in Asgaurd you worked alone though even in battles you preffered to be a one man team. Though you did have everyone behind you. Your mother was proud yet worried. One day your return wasnt as expected.

You were fighting on some planet woth the prince when suddenly someone had stabbed you. You gasped in pain seeing the sword through your side as you fell to the ground.

"Y/N" Thor yelled killing everything before rushing to youe side.

"No come on" he said going back to Asgaurd rushing you into the castle. Your mother watched scared as the prince laid you on the table before healers got to work. You passed out though to much blood being lost.

You were awake but in pain you didnt dare move.

"Please wake up" you heard someone whisper, Thor.

"I need you to wake up i have so much i need to tell you my feelings" he sighed. Feelings? He had feelings for you?

"I love you y/n" he muttered as your mind froze he loved you? The god of thunder loved you?

"I love you too" your voice came out hoarse as you opened your eyes seeing the surprised prince.

"Your awake" he said happily placing a hand on your cheek, you leaned into him.

"Im tough" you joked coughing whincing at the pain.

"Hey here" he handed you water which you took gladly.

"Do you really?" You asked not finishing your sentence as he nodded you smiled giving his hand a kiss.

Art

Ever since the mighty god fell to earth you were the one to bring him back. Ever since then the man became a hero and a god you were proud yet sad knowing he would soon forget about you. You were just human nothing special just one of Janes friends who lended a hand every now and then. Your passion wad art though you never got around to it much.

Tonight though you sat on top of your roof looking up at the stars wondering where the thunder god was now. You were sketching the sky when suddenly a loud crash came behind you. You screamed your book and pencils going everywhere. You frowned seeing the god himseld jumping onto your roof while your scrambled to grab your things.

"Thor" you as he smiled giving you a quick hug.

"Hello" he said before you both sat down.

"What are you drawing?" He asked as you showed him.

"This is amazing" he said staring at it making you giggle.

"May i?" You nodded as he flicked through your book. It landed on one damn page though of were you drew him you quickly grabbed your book hiding it against your body making the god confused.

"Y/n?" He questioned.

"I swear you were never meant to see that" you muttered your face burning you fogot it was that book with him in it.

"Why not?" He asked as you rolled your eyes.

"Because its creepy to draw someone with out them knowing when you know them and-" you stopped yourself feeling flushed.

"And?" He pressed on damn him he wouldnt stop.

"And because of my feelings, towards, you" you said rushed burning as you stared at the ground.

"You have feelings for me?" He asked like it was a surprise.

"Yes idiot" you muttered wishing you could dissapear.

"I return those feelings" you froze he what? You looked to him his kind smile filling his face.

"You like me?" You asked.

"As humans put yes i like you" he said as you stared in shock.

"Me?" You questioned again as he chuckled.

"Yes y/n y/l/n i like you very much" he said your head wouldn't wrap around it.

"Still need convincing?" He asked you didnt asnwer he smiled leaning forward kissing your lips leaving you even more shocked.

"I hope that answers it?" He asked as you smiled moving to kiss him again. He moved you to straddle his legs as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He pulled away smiling as you panted quietly leaning your forehead against his. No words were said none had to just the feeling between you was enough.

#thor x reader #thor #god of thunder #thor imagines #kiss #sweet

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steelfeather · 7 years

Note

can i have a ship, love of my life, fire of my loins?? my name is christina, i am a str8 lady. (no pressure but it better be tom) anyway 1. i love to sing and dance badly around my house 2. acting and writing and watching tv/movies 3. KIDS 4. having fun and going on adventures 5. the night sky and the beach at night and one thing i really don't like is fake people :// anyway CONGRATULATIONS I AM PROUD OF YOU AND I LOVE YOU EVEN WHEN YOU POST SMUT WHILE IM IN SCHOOL AND I HAVE TO READ IT IN CLASS

Tom would straight up dance around in his socks with you, belting out songs at the top of his lungs, like actually trying to sound bad, and he’d slip on the floors sometimes which would make you laugh so hard you fell too, and then the two of you would just be tangled up in a messy heap, stomachs hurting and bodies shaking from the kind of giggles that leave you breathless.

Tom would take you with him when he visited hospitals and get competitive over who can make the kids like them better (you always win and he usually pouts until you kiss it better), and he would want to experience every new thing with you by his side.

Your honesty and sincerity would be so refreshing to him after some of the people he’s had to interact with. Tbh that’s probably the first thing about you that drew him in.

The Sony and Marvel executives can never know, but the two of you were put up in a beachside cottage once during an on-location shoot and you went for a midnight skinny dip, suppressing squeals at the cool air and the colder water, huddling together under the stars until he gave up first, a fact which you will never let him forget for as long as he lives.

Girl I hope you like it!

#asks #answered #spideythewebsitter #500 followers celebration #ships

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mini-moongi · 7 years

Text

I Need You

Request: Hi! Can you write a soulmate au with anyone from the rap line where you get a symbol (when you turn 16)representing your soulmate somewhere on your body, in the same place as your soulmate, that represents them/their personality? Can you also have the reader and the person of your choice from the rap line be childhood friends?? Sorry if I’m asking but too much, but if you do write this, I will be very happy! - Anon

Suga (Yoongi) x reader

Genre: angsty fluff

[Gif doesn’t belong to me]

I got my first request! Im frEaKinG ouT I changed it up a bit, so that you have two marks. One represents you, but you were born with it, and the other is your soulmate’s that you earn when you’re 16. That way, you can recognize your own mark.

Summary: Yoongi promised to be there for your 16th birthday, the day you were to get your soulmate’s mark, but failed to show up. You waited for him patiently, although you did study abroad. You meet up with Namjoon, who was a study buddy, and decide to record a song.

[ Soulmate AU]

You blew out the special candles that lit up your birthday cake. You were turning sixteen, the age where you’d get your soulmate’s mark. You tried to be happy, like the people surrounding you, but it wasn’t the same since Yoongi hadn’t shown up.

People often started to travel the world in search of their soulmate at your age, desperately trying to find their destined lover. Yoongi was the same, leaving last year on the day after his sixteenth birthday. He used his soulmate as an excuse to leave and pursue his dream because his parents didn’t really support him.

You two were childhood friends, talking about wanting to create music for people all over the world. You supported each other, through good and bad, which is why you two were so close.

“ Yah Yoongi, when you become famous, you better get me free tickets to your shows.” You laughed along with him. The happy atmosphere was doubled when he smiled at you. It was alluring, and you were drawn to him. “ When you leave after you’re 16, stay in touch, okay?”

“ I promise, when I leave next month, I’ll come back for your sixteenth birthday next year.” His head turned to face you as he gave you a lopsided grin. You looked at him in a disbelieving manner as you laughed out your next words. “ Really? But what if you forget?”

“ I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll even get you a Kumamon bear if I have to.” His tone seemed reassuring to you, so you agreed happily to his offer. You two stared into the crisp night sky, wondering of the future.

You stared at the same night sky, in the exact spot you two made the promise. It was a whole year of being ignored, never updated, and being alone. His number was deleted somewhere along the way, he must have forgotten about you.

You shook your head at the thought, maybe his flight was delayed. He promised to be here, not to keep in touch. You watched as your soulmate’s mark slowly started forming around your wrist. The feeling when it appears is different for each person, and yours just so happened to burn.

On your left wrist was a piano music chord that wrapped around like a bracelet. It had a set of notes, and the chords seemed to be on flames. The chord was unfinished, and seemed to fade into your skin. Great, now you had to play piano for this shit.

Your right wrist had your mark, but you’ve seen that since you were born. Sighing as you flopped onto your bed, you fell asleep with your thoughts filled with hope.

The next day, however, he didn’t show up. You were going to leave to study abroad soon, so you hope he’d show up before then. You decided to figure out what these notes on your wrist meant, so you went up to the piano in your house. You remember the pristine piano, recalling a fond memory.

“ You’re doing it wrong. Your hand goes over there.” He bluntly picks up your hand and moves it to another side of the piano. The boy places his own hands across from you, gently touching the keys. “ Start.”

You both played a rhythmic melody, clashing together in waves of music notes. The sound amplifies as each verse progresses, building up each key as you press the notes. His part intertwines with yours, creating a song of separation. When you finished, he spoke up, “ You didn’t fuck up, I’m proud.” He smiles and gives you a hug, shocking you with the kind gesture.

You place your hands on the keys of the piano, trying to remember how to play the piece. You do it as a warm up, but because it’s a two player song, the piano’s music became a sad piece, calling for its forgotten partner.

You look at your wrist and started playing the first few notes from your soulmate’s mark. The unfinished end of the chord kept spiraling along your arm with the rest of the music notes. You keep playing, and a beautiful melody softly drifts through the air.

After that, you played it over and over, unable to tear yourself away from the piece.

[Years Later]

You called up Namjoon, having lost the directions to his studio. You met him when you were studying abroad, and you two indulged in the passion of music. You often worked on music projects with him, and you both always came out with the best results. He accomplished his dream and joined a kpop group back in 2013. Today, he wanted to meet up to show off his studio.

“ Hey, was I supposed to take a left or a right?” You asked him through the phone. You eventually see him at the front of the building, and he guided you to the room.

“ You’ve got on a dope new jacket, where’s it from?” Namjoon pointed to the leather jacket you had on with your outfit.

“ A friend gave me this when we were kids. I never really fit it until now, so I didn’t get a chance to wear this for a long time.” You shrugged at your reply and walked into the studio. Yoongi gave it to you for your fourteenth birthday, but you had to wait until you grew into it.

It was stylized, probably to his preferences, and looked fairly new. “ All the new music we’ve been working on is stored on this computer.” He proceeded to show you some really cool projects they’ve been preparing. You gave some advice on how to improve it, and he took notes to remember. One song in particular, caught your attention.

“ Did you write this song?” You asked Namjoon. He looked over at you disappointingly,” It’s good, right? I helped make this song, but it was someone else’s idea for the melody. I’m pretty sure it’s called ‘I Need U’ or something.”

Namjoon discussed the things that you’ve been practicing and brought you up to the recording booth. You were here to record a song that he wrote, and the lyrics sealed the deal. Namjoon received a text message, and replied before putting his phone away

You loved the thrill of singing and rapping, and this song proved it. Namjoon told you that you were going to be a part of a duet, which you thought was interesting. Nevertheless, you began the song.

You had a single rap verse and you sang the chorus of the song. It was about the red string of fate, and soulmates who were split apart. It’s a sad song, really, and you wanted to relate to it.

Yoongi forgot his headphones in Namjoon’s studio, and he went to pick them up. He was working on the upcoming song “ I Need U” and left his headphones when he went back to the dorms. Yoongi decided to text Namjoon on his way there, so that he would have a heads up.

Yoongi was tired, but tried to stay awake as he walked down the familiar hallway. He quietly opened the door, only to be met with music and a very talented voice.

Your rap was so clear and every word sounded like it had a meaning behind each one. Your voice sang with each emotion played in the song, like the words were telling your story. Yoongi’s eyes roamed around until it landed on you, instantly caught in your voice. Your focused expression and the way you sang drew him closer to you, almost entrancing him to stay.

He walked quietly up to Namjoon, who had the headphones next to him. Right when he was going to grab his stuff and leave without you noticing, Namjoon talks into the microphone. “ You did great, y/n. Come meet one of my friends.”

It couldn’t really be you, could it? Yoongi refused to return to Daegu after he left. He deleted his own number, and ignored every mention of your name, so why couldn’t you leave his mind? You made him feel something he couldn’t, and didn’t, want to understand, so he left.

The guilt that he felt overseas made him too afraid of returning home, too afraid to see you. He remembered the promise and knew he broke it, so coming back, he didn’t want to see you upset on your sixteenth birthday. Even the sheer fact that his soulmate’s mark matched yours, further convinced him to stay away.

“ Y/n, I’d like you to meet--” Namjoon’s words were cut off. “ --Yoongi?” You couldn’t believe it. The person you’ve always waited for, was standing in front of you. You were shocked, you gave up entirely on ever seeing him again. You wanted to be angry for all those years he ignored you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do such a hurtful thing to him.

“ I’m sorry.” Yoongi wasn’t the one to apologize, but the guilt made it unbearable. You were wearing the same leather jacket he gave you, and when he looked at you, he could tell that he’s missed a lot in your life. He missed you, that’s for sure.

“ I-I’m so sorry...” Without another word, Yoongi hugged you. You haven’t seen him break down since that one time he accidentally pushed you off a hill and you broke your wrist. He held onto you tightly, cradling your body in his arms. Tears were streaming out of his eyes now, unable to separate himself from you.

“ It’s okay Yoongs..” You pat him on the back, rubbing soothing circles along the way. His head rested on our shoulder, and you looked over his. You made eye contact with Namjoon, who was confused as hell. He mouthed out the words, “ I’ll give you a moment.” before walking out.

You and Yoongi stay in that position for awhile, just listening to each other’s heart beat. You two pulled away slowly with his hands on your waist. “ Are you mad at me?”

“ You’ve only ignored me for half of my life, no big deal.” You shrugged and avoided eye contact. Yoongi always went soft on you, and this was no different. “ I-I’m sorry, y’n. Please don’t be mad.. I’ll even buy you that kumamon bear I promised-- or get you your favorite ice cream..”

“ Of course I’m not mad at you, Yoongi.” You giggled softly. You could see his panicked expression turn into one of relief. “ You’ve been busy, that’s all.”

He could only smile and hug you again, except less dramatically. You were in his arms, and he couldn’t have been happier. His cold demeanor, without fail, consistently became sweeter with you.

Now he knew why.

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-A/N-

I hope the ending was okay, I kind of winged it there. Thank you for requesting! I hope I did your request some justice.

-requests open!-

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