#「 v: main. 」

[strxngertogether]

@storyofwhoiam || Continued from here

Violet gave a bittersweet smile, hating to see her child in such pain, no matter the cause, but also knowing she had felt that more than enough times in her life. Sometimes, emotions needed to be felt and shown, even when you did not want them to. Even now, she struggled with fully expressing all of her emotions. Perhaps it was her fault that so many of her children seemed to want to hide their emotions, despite how much she tried to affirm in them otherwise growing up. Children took after their parents, did they not?

She took Eloise's face in her hand, wiping away the tears on that side of her face. "I know it is not... always something we are want to do, but I am here for you when you do need them to be expressed. If you wish me to be. I will always be here for you, you must know that." She knew how rocky their relationship had been in the past, most parent-child relationships were at one point or another, and she had every desire to fix that and needed to make it known that Eloise could come to her whenever she needed.

"Now, whatever is the matter?" She gently pushed, not wanting to scare Eloise away but wanting her to know that she would not walk away, if that was not what she wished.

[chasingtitans]

Life, in some respects, moves slower in Port Townsend. It actually helps, more than Keiko would have ever expected it to. Especially on the worst days - ones when she feels near-consumed by everything that has changed in her absence; everything she'd lost in a heartbeat, everything she's still trying to find.

One of those respects is certainly in the work at Mick's. It's already been a slow few hours, slow enough that Mick had stepped out and left her alone to watch the shop, when Keiko finally hears a customer enter. Mid-restocking, she doesn't bother to actually look when she begins to recite the line well-rehearsed enough to overcome her aversion to dealing with strangers: "Tragic Mick's, let me know if I can help -"

When she finally turns around, her expression drops mid-greeting, carefully crafted neutrality souring into blatant annoyance. Of every damn person in this town, it has to be them? "- you." // @auras3ye + plotted starter!

[witandcharm]

             @dellamuertos asked: “ are you okay? ”

             He could sense his presence, long before he’d even adjusted his gaze to look at him. Almost tangible, like that of the veil just before a spell were to be cast- a hint of static in the air just before a burst of lightning. Yet it was not of his doing- not entirely, not a mage in his own right, but rather, the energy of another that seemed to alter the arcane wherever he tread. He’d been warned about his little companion, and his tendency to wander in the night. In any other circumstance, he may have felt guilty, knowing that he may have disturbed him from his slumber- knowing most normal folk at this time would be sound asleep. Yet here he was, wide awake, no sign of freshly stirring, or inkling of annoyance at being disturbed. 

             A part of him half expected his demon- Spite, as he’d recall the name. Yet when their eyes would meet, there would be no purple hue, nor wicked grin- instead the man he’d come to know, over their time working side by side. A warm and gentle gaze, half lidded, as if always on the verge of sleep. Maybe that’s why he’d made himself known, maybe he would want some too-  the scent of fresh ground coffee filling the space as he’d wait for his water to boil. Not that it was ideal, drinking coffee in the middle of the night. It was a way to keep him going, skipping on sleep for the sake of knowledge. Wasn’t the first time, nor certainly the last.

             Why it all made sense, the way his words would fall between them, a beat of silence passing between them as he’d find himself half tempted to laugh. ‘Are you okay?’

             “Ever the loaded question, that one. I suppose it all depends, are we looking at the big picture? Or the present moment?” A hand would move to his hip, the stove on low giving him time to wander, from the kitchen, to the table, finding a spot at its edge so he might find warmth by the fire- his eyes wandering over the crow’s frame as he went. “If we’re talking about the here and now, which I assume– I’m fine. I will admit, I’ll be much better off, once I’ve put this coffee to boil…” It was the least of his priorities now, truth be told, his gaze never leaving him. Gentle, concerned, the slight pinch of his brow giving away his worry, if his tone didn’t reveal it enough. 

             “I should be asking the same of you though, I only hope I didn’t cause that little friend of yours to stir- I can’t imagine he’s all too keen on company this late in the night. Spite, yes?” Respect given, knowing they were one in the same. Lucanis was his concern, always had been, not shy nor subtle about letting him know that either. Life was too short to hide how he felt- one of the many things he’d learned over the years, with the world constantly at threat of coming to an end. Fingers would curl against the hard oak where he sat, his tone falling softer, hoping to provide company, keep his demon at bay- if only for a little while, sated by his presence alone.  

             “How are you doing, with that whole business- he’s not… causing you any harm, is he?”

[stilledlife]

@fightleft

there is a man standing in a room.

it's not a very impressive room—a mid-sized space with plain, off-white walls. columns without any decoration stretch up to a ceiling that truly does not require the extra support. it could have been nearly anything: a boardroom, an add-on to a church, a destitute art gallery.

yes, gallery is likely the most accurate description, as the man is standing in front of the one thing on the walls: a framed painting.

the painting is not particularly large, nor is it particularly striking. one could describe it as a landscape of a sort, rendered in deep, dull, depressing colors. a rocky island sitting atop a motionless sea, bearing a copse of nearly-black trees encircled by cliffs.

the man observing it seems strikes quite a contrast with it, the deep blue of his suit drawing the eye to him, rather than the piece of artwork. it is unclear how he could have arrived in this room without the person approaching now noticing him before. there is only one entryway—this room is a dead end.

at the sound of footsteps, stefano turns away from the painting, directing his attention to the new arrival.

"what a surprise." he smiles in a way that is supposed to be welcoming. "i was under the impression that i was the only soul here."

[markedprey]

grabs his face and brutally attacks him with kisses ❤️

             @bloodybcrbie

             It was an unexpected sort of love, then again, it seemed everything about their relationship was just that- unexpected. To think that it was fate, or maybe just dumb luck that he’d happened to move in nearby her, a little trailer park full of little people with truly nothing to their names. It was why he’d picked the place at all, far from home, a chance to hide away from any crimes he was running from. What he had never expected was to find someone so similar, the girl next door, so seemingly innocent- unaware of what dangers lingered beneath her charming smile. All it took was a single slip up on her part, and he was oh so quick to find out her wicked truth. Killers, one in the same, how he could tell, plain as day, when she tried so hard to hide the body. It was then on he knew she was special, not just another victim, but the hunter herself, luring men in like flies to a black widows web. 

             In truth, he enjoyed watching her, for how many days, weeks, he couldn’t remember. In one man would go, out they’d roll in a suitcase, a box, where he was so quick to help her when she couldn’t carry them on her own. Admiration in her dedication, which brought them closer, each day stopping in to help her, and with it their desire for one another. Unable to resist, how he was drawn to her, the need to protect her- and from that something stirred within- love in the least expected place. It seemed like they were always meant to be. 

             Why he couldn’t help but smile, knowing when she was near without even needing warning. The sound of her footfalls, her soft little song she’d hum to herself, the scent of her perfume- he knew it all too well. The gentle touch on his arm was enough to pull him away from his work, working away inside the hood of his truck as she’d try and pull his attention away. It didn’t take much, truth be told, lowering himself to her level as she’d take hold, closing his eyes and letting her lips roam where they wanted, painting his face with a crimson red he knew would definitely stain. Still, he didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch or complain for her to stop. Instead his hands would move, taking hold of her waist, pulling her in flush so he could instead lift her up. Like second nature to him, her small frame and the way he could hold her with ease, stopping to drop the hood of his truck so he could sit her on top of it instead. Pure, undivided attention, not caring if the neighbors saw as he cozied himself between her legs, hands roaming down the curve of her waist, along her legs, head tilting to the side with a smile of pure adoration on his face. 

             “You sure know how to distract a man, I’ll give you that much…” Fingers would skirt up just beneath her dress, toying with her while he had her full attention. “Y’know, I was just thinking about you. Figured I’d stop on by later… but now that you’ve got me, how about I stop in for some of that lemonade of yours, hm? And whatever kinda dessert you got saved for me...”

[hexcoremagician]

@snugglyporos asked:

Is poro! Is snuggly! Is adorable ram creature! Gives snuggles! Friend? Friend of poro?

𝗩𝗜𝗞𝗧𝗢𝗥 𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗢𝗣𝗦 𝗗𝗢𝗪𝗡. He offers a hand to the poro to sniff as he leans on his crutch.

"Hello there, little poro. Are you alright?"

Of course he is a friend of poros!

"May I pet you?"

[actingfool]

@pulsefelt

"all right, seriously, what's your deal?" kubo says pointedly, looking over his shoulder with a grimace that would put a hannya mask to shame.

it's one thing to end up partnered with kariya during work hours, but another thing altogether to find the reaper catching up to him during his break time.

still, he doesn't leave the bench he's sitting on, patiently waiting for an answer.

"ya can't seriously expect me to believe you're this fond of me."

[red9]

Leon's giving him a kiss, and another one, and another one, and another one, and a-

              @fortrauma inbox prompts.

              It was something he would never tire of, these brief  and fleeting moments of adoration and affection Leon would rarely show. To think of how far they’d come, that once upon a time, Leon would soon rather bare his teeth and fight, guard raised high and bristling at the thought of him even coming near. Now here they were, tangled up in each other's arms, met with an unexpected flurry of kisses that left a fit of laughter rolling from his chest. Hands held tightly to his waist, drawing him in, never truly knowing what he did to deserve him- but never once taking for granted having him near.

              “It’s nice to see you too...” Lips came to meet his brow in return, one cheek, then the other, having no intention of letting him go. “How about one more…” A tempting thought, but before he could say a word, lips were quick to capture his in one last eager little kiss.

              " I love you, Leon.”

[wentworthcorrectional]

@storyofwhoiam

Debbie laughed boisterously as Allie poked fun at her from behind as she struggled to pick up the stuffed cat toy. She was on her fifth try and pretty sure she was no closer than she had been on her first, but that didn't deter her or take away the fun she was having. Ever since her and Allie really started, she had started looking forward to spending time with her just like she did with her mum. Sometimes more so since it usually didn't come with that overt worry at the slightest hint of something being wrong.

Her laughter faded away as her hand started to twitch, clutched tightly around the joystick and not correlating at all to what she was trying to do. She felt a wave come over her and the world slowed down as she took in the experience, something she'd experienced more times than she could count but not in any recent months. Shit...

She quickly turned to face Allie before colours exploded in her vision and then she was waking up on the ground with Allie and a handful of strangers surrounding her. Welp... that was something she hadn't experienced for awhile. Usually she was aware during it all.

Seeing the worry on Allie's face that was usually on her mum's, guilt pricked inside of Debbie's chest and she lifted up an arm, offering a thumbs up and a smile.

[strxngertogether]

@storyofwhoiam || Continued from here

[TEXT: ash] fuck off

[chasingtitans]

It had been hard not to look at him and see Hiroshi. Impossible not to step in at the sight of him being harassed. The train ticket hadn't been anything Keiko couldn't afford, and the relief it brought from hostile eyes - if maybe only for today - had been worth every penny.

Still. She waits, watching carefully until the conductor makes his way on to the next car over, before relaxing even halfway. Only then can she turn her attention fully to the boy now seated safely near her. "Are you alright?" // @soulmissed + plotted starter!

[witandcharm]

             @corpsepetal asked: well, isn't this a sight?

             His voice was like a taste of nostalgia, much like one might catch an old familiar scent, taking them back to another place, another time in their life they’d not dwelled on for many years. Strange, how his tone alone could stir his very heart, make quicker pace of its beating. Like all at once he was a student again, young and flippant, forced for a term to take up studies in the Necropolis- knowing it was not to last. How different things might have been back then, were your father not so keen on controlling everything- maybe in another life, you might have found a mentor in him- only wishful thinking, as so many plans were from his youth. 

             The man had no idea what impact he made on him, all those years ago. To continue to study the art, long after he left those dank, decrepit halls of the dead. Now here they were, face to face, and all he could do was laugh.

             “Professor Volkarin,”  He’d seen him pass by at least a dozen times prior, following tail of the one they called Rook. The leader, making it up as they went along- like a mirror reflection of the Inquisitor long ago. Why he couldn’t help but find it all endearing, knowing how this story would go. Yet it was surprising to see him anywhere but in the lighting of that old, dusty place. He was younger then- but still he looked good, all things considered- like time was on his side, death treating him kindly after all the years they’d been apart.

             “You’re looking as stunning as always, I take it Rook has kept you more than busy, yes? Difficult not to be on your toes as you wander the city- just as likely to bump into Venatori at the street market as you would an old friend. I digress-” He’d been playing around the thought for a while, ever since they’d reunited. Lingering, in the back of his mind, the thought of him persistent in the days that would pass. Life is too short to live with regrets- no harm in asking, worst case scenario, he would say no, then be on his way. 

             “We’ve not had time to properly catch up, these small passing comments don’t suffice in my opinion. Would you stay a while? Share a glass of wine or two- if you’ve time for me, that is.” 

[markedprey]

              @finalslay starter call.

              It was a dangerous game she was playing, a lonesome college girl overstaying her welcome. How she wandered out to their side of town he could hardly guess- then again- groups of guys and girls her age always passed through for the scenery and more recently- the string of murders that happened to catch more attention than he would have liked. She called herself a reporter, out to find the truth, yet she remained so blissfully aware of the danger that lurked in plain sight. 

              It was the man that just so happened to be under the hood of her car, the man who just so happened to pull loose a wire that didn’t exactly need fixing in the first place. All the more reason to keep her around for a while, no sense in letting someone who might learn too much be free after all. Still, he played the part, a kind smile flashing across his features as he turned to lean himself against the open mouth of her dead car, dusting oil covered gloves together as if it would truly clean them. 

              “Safe to say you ain't goin’ anywhere anytime soon. Don’t know exactly why you bothered comin’ out here in the first place for that matter. Not exactly safe out here in there parts for a gal like you- you sure you know what you’re doin’?”

[hexcoremagician]

shimmerbeasts asked:

✉ - push my muse back down when they try to get out of bed (perhaps involving illness, injury, or sleep deprivation) (Silco for Viktor, also just for emphasis he does that GENTLY!)

𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗠-𝗕𝗔𝗥𝗢𝗡'𝗦 𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗛𝗔𝗗 𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗞𝗘𝗡 𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗟𝗘𝗚 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗟𝗘𝗙𝗧 𝗛𝗜𝗠 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗗, 𝗛𝗘 𝗡𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗙𝗜𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗛𝗘'𝗗 𝗕𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗗. The tunnels that ran through the undercity were vast, almost like catacombs. And that was what Tomo had intended them to be for Viktor: a final resting place. He'd planned to steal the inventor's work, use his invention to apply for the Academy in Piltover, and had hoped to destroy his father's burgeoning hold on the undercity in the process.

"Of course I didn't love you," comes the harsh whisper, fingers tangled in Viktor's hair. The brown wisps are pulled so tight that all he can do is yelp against the hard floor as he's yanked. He is face down, nose almost pressed to a puddle.

"Who could? You're weak. The only good thing about your is your brain, but don't worry, I'll put all of your inventions to good use. Blitzcrank will get me into the Academy."

Sudden pressure hits his right knee, jolting and preventing him from a response. A foot, pressing against the soft underside of the joint. Something starts to give way.

"No, please, no - " Viktor cries, struggles, but his cane is out of reach, and his trusting heart had made him carry no weapons. He'd even forgone the augments he'd installed in his cane, because he was in love. He was a fool. Such a fool.

A loud sound, between a crunch and a pop, reaches his ears. The pain that follows makes him moan brokenly, sweat breaking out all over his thin form. The sounds that leave his lips are almost inhuman. That is how much he hurt.

"Poor Viktor. You'll never be anything. You're useless. Hope you like it down here. This is where you'll die. I mean, weren't you going to, anyway?"

Something wet and sticky, a glob of spit, hit the back of his head. Viktor couldn't focus on anything else but the pain, and soon enough, when he took what he thought was his agonizing last breath, he faded into a swirling ink sea, Rio happily running behind him.

It was the scent of cigar smoke that woke him. His head was pounding, and suddenly, the floor was rushing to meet him, all of reality crumbling underneath his feet, though he stayed still. Viktor's golden eyes tried to find purchase on anything to soothe the spinning. Before he knew it, he was attempting to get out of bed, hoping that would make him feel better, and instead of getting out of bed as he expected, he felt a firm hand gently push him down.

His focus became a pinpoint from the action, and the pounding of his head faded to a gentle thud.

Viktor stared up at his father with a look of surprise. Silco was here. How long had he been at his bedside? Though his features were pale, paler than usual, and the young inventor regarded his father with bewilderment, a tender concern laid within the expression.

"Father? Are you well?"

His voice shook. Viktor clutched at his father's arm; oh, how silly it was for the sickly fifteen year old to ask Silco when he was not the one in the bed. And then, as if remembering everything that occured, more panic flashed upon his features.

"My lab. Blitzcrank. Are they - are they safe? How long was I out?"

He moved too quickly, and the pain of his leg shocked him. Ah, Tomo had broken that. The reminder made him wince. His voice was gruff, gruffer than he'd ever allowed himself to get before.

"I want to kill him. He left me. It wasn't genuine. He. Father, he didn't love me. It was a trick. I want to make him bleed. He wants to steal my work, take my interview at the Academy. It was all a ploy to - to. To leave me for dead."

[thearcheologistswife]

011, the last train compartment that's not full. 11 - Kate

@storyofwhoiam

Kate sighed as she sat down, eyes rolling as she ran a hand through her hair. "Can you please tell me why this couldn't wait until the morning?" The Doctor had barely given her time to brush her hair, let alone get dressed. She was sure her babysitter hadn't appreciated being woken up and having an infant shoved into their arms either.

[red9]

next time something like this happens, you have to promise to tell me.

              PATCHING UP WOUNDS // @herosace

              More often than not he was painted a villain, for it was much easier to put hatred to a face and a name rather than a concept that lingered from some years ago. It was something he’d grown accustomed to, knowing that despite the rights he tried to wrong, there would always be those who hated him for a cause he no longer worked for. A ghost from his past he’d never outrun, despite trying time and time again. Yet through the hatred, the cruelty, he held strong- not just for himself, but for the man he’d come to adore. Even as he took to their cause, played by the rules, took up a life of trying to fix what he’d broken so many years ago- there were those that would rather see him dead to avenge those he lost.

              It would happen at the times he’d least expect it. Be it coming and going from work, a midnight coffee break, or even out with his love on a Friday night, attempting a life of normalcy with his partner. Some faces he would know from passing, mainly field men working for the government, or the BSAA, those who took up arms to help the cause to avenge those they lost. It was often those that held anger when they’d learned of his past, thinking that maybe if they raised a fist or had a chance to spit in his direction it would bring peace to the dead that were long since gone.  And what was worse, was that he never knew when it would happen. 

              How it started with a cigarette, the day having shifted to night with hardly any notice as he’d work. It was only when he needed a moment of relief that he’d make his way outside, still in a fine pressed lab coat, name tag on with his lighter twirling in hand. At times he’d forget what significance that red and white logo held as it was engraved into gold. Certainly the last thing on his mind when he’d be approached for a light, another soldier in need of someone with a flame- and how he was more than willing to oblige. Frightening, the way light conversation could quickly turn sour, like watching a flame ignite in a stranger’s eyes, the rage that would overtake them happening in an instant as they’d realize who he was. 

              The rest was always history, ending up on his ass as a flash of white pain would overtake him. A single swift punch, and he’d be laid out on the floor, ears ringing as he’d clutch his bloodied face, scrambling for his lost lighter as he’d take a walk of shame back to his laboratory to smoke in peace. Though blood still stained his lab coat, and his head would ache for a while, at least in there came privacy, attempting to hide what was done before Chris would arrive to drive them home for the night.

              It was the sound of his voice that would raise his head from over the sink, the blood mainly clean from under his nose, lip slightly split as it held the cigarette loosely to a side. Given the chance he’d die with smoke in his lungs, so the sting was hardly noticed as he’d turn to greet the other. Hoping he wouldn’t notice- but the man was far too keen, too quick to catch on. All it took was a weak smile, and the cheery expression he often was met with was quick to disappear off his lover’s face. Concern mainly, as he’d feel him pluck the cigarette from his lips, never wanting to be the cause of the crease between his brows. “It was nothing, a misunderstanding-” so quick to brush off any worries he may have had. Yet still he was adamant, eyes never leaving his, feeling as though he could see right through his playful act to the fear he held inside. What would happen when one day someone would go too far? 

              ‘Next time something like this happens, you have to promise to tell me.’

              Hands raised to gently take hold of his wrists, removing worried hands from his face. Instead he turned, lips meeting his palm in a tender kiss to soothe his troubled mind. “I promise, next time someone tries something, I’ll call you first thing. Then you can come down here, be the big man and scare them off for me. You’re good at that.” To think, he was just one more thing for the man to worry about- he never wanted to be that. Eyes dropped at the thought, attempting to try and shift the mood around to something lighter. “I was hoping you might play nurse for me- help take my mind off the pain for a while. I wasn’t done working- but I’m thinking I’ll cut it short, if you were planning on calling it for the night.”