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lisbeth-kk · 6 months ago

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May Prompts (23) Apology

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter23)

Summary: Rosie shares a surprise with her parents and uncle. All of them have different thoughts about this unexpected development, and silent negotiations are carried out.

Twenty-Three Years Old

I knew that Papa not fully understood my reason for studying international politics and data, but to his credit he didn’t for one second try to convince me to give it another thought and opt for something science related instead. Dad was just relieved that I’d finally had found a path to walk, after several failed attempts. Uncle Myc, well he tried to hide how utterly pleased he was with my choice, but by now I knew him well enough to read the signs. Truth be told, said signs weren’t that subtle.

“Bien choisi ma chérie,” he beamed at me, while Papa scowled at him.

“Merci oncle,” I retorted. “I can’t wait to start this and go to Paris.”

The three-year BA degree was taught by The University of London Institute in Paris. We would be taught in English, but if we had an A level in French, we could also take French courses. I’d learned French in school for years, and uncle Myc and I often conversed in French when uncle Greg wasn’t around.

I think it’s needless to say that my security and comfort in France was well taken care of. Papa and uncle Myc had a conversation using their eyes only when I spilled the beans. Dad knew exactly what was going on and went to make tea while negotiations were carried out. Once the brothers were satisfied, uncle Myc took out his phone and sent several texts or emails. By now, I knew it’ll be futile to pester any of them of what was going on. I was just relieved that no one had tried to talk me out of it, making me feel uncertain or guilty for leaving the country; actually, moving out of my childhood home.

My reasons for choosing this subject were multifaceted. I’d always enjoyed learning facts, obscure and otherwise, about different countries and cultures. Having had a relatively unorthodox upbringing, containing all sorts of people, played a big part too. The cherry on top was that the school was abroad. Nana’s tales of her experiences overseas and how educating it is to have lived some time in another country and society, had always seemed enticing to me.

***

The university was situated close to the Invalides and the Seine, while my lodgings were in the Charonne area in the 11th arrondissement on a cosy cobble street, with a nearby metro station. My landlady, Marguerite Vachon was one of uncle Myc’s acquaintances, from where, I still have no idea.

Marguerite preferred that I used her given name instead of the formal, Madame Vachon.

“Je ne suis pas ancient,” was her favourite line and reminded me quite a lot of Nana.

“I am not ancient, dear,” was a statement Nana had used every so often.

Marguerite was a petite and elegant woman. Her hair was cut in a bob, coloured black with a few red stripes. I never saw her without lipstick or makeup. She always wore bespoke dresses and high heeled shoes. I deduced that she was far more than a landlady. When I left for school in the morning, I could hear her sing or talk on the phone, and when I returned, she always opened her door and inquired about my day.

“She’s clearly spying for Mycroft,” Papa’s voice told me.

And there was something about her, which I couldn’t put my finger on. Something mysterious, secret, perhaps even dangerous.

***

It seemed like Marguerite had my schedule memorised. Not that I’d given her the information, but when she slipped, I got my suspicions confirmed. To be fair, it wasn’t slipping per se. She couldn’t have known that class was dismissed early that day.

Luckily, I spotted her and was able to hide behind a wall before she saw me. I’d almost missed her, because she wasn’t wearing her normal dress and high heels, but red trousers, a white and blue-striped jumper, and white trainers. Instead of one of her posh handbags, she had a dark blue canvas bag diagonally draped over her chest.

Papa had taught me a few tricks when it came to the fine art of following people without being discovered. I’ve never had much use of them obviously, but now I saw an opportunity. How I would explain this and apologise if I was caught, never crossed my mind.

I was sceptical when Marguerite walked to the metro station, but I was able to get into the same carriage as her, and it seemed that she had no idea she was being followed. She got off three stops later and walked in the direction of the big Père-Lachaise cemetery.

A fitting location for obscure and shady affairs.

Marguerite knew where she was going, walking briskly but not hurried. I had walked the premises several times before and knew where she was headed when I saw the grand tomb of Sir Richard Wallace, the British baronet who contributed millions to the Parisian poor during the Siege of Paris in the early 1870s.

This reeked of another posh Brit I knew.

When Marguerite had placed a folder by the tomb and another woman picked it up five minutes later, I had a hard time keeping myself composed. The woman picking up the folder was the French equivalent of Anthea.

I sent uncle Myc a text when both women were out of sight.

Thanks for keeping track on me, but this thing is like being part of a French noir film. You can tell Papa I think you’re both growing sentimental, and I demand an apology!

Also available on AO3

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @raina-at @helloliriels

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#may prompts 2024 #may 23: apology #sherlock fandom #rosie watson #sherlock #john watson #mycroft holmes #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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wisteriaiswriting · 8 months ago

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ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕤𝕥

Words: 607

Not only was Violet Sorrengail now in the Riders Quadrant, he also had to deal with you. Another child of the rebellion, only on the opposite side. And he made his feelings for you crystal clear.

Quickly enough you noticed, feeling lucky about being in a different squad. That luck would run out soon enough, overhearing him complaining to a teacher.

“Why do you need them in the squad?” Time passed and he didn’t respond, only footsteps getting closer. Only having a few seconds to step behind the door before he swings it open.

If he knew you were there, he didn’t make it clear. Instead continuing on until he turned a corner, finally out of view and ear shot.

***

Violet's squad didn’t start like normal, now watching a second squad enter, with you in front.

“Alright, no–” Cut off by people stepping onto the mats, Xaden first then you followed. “Fine then.” Your squad leader finished speaking, as the other was cut off.

“Hey, you two,” Calling for your attention, “You know the rules, just don’t kill each other.” The hatred between you two was clear. As soon as they said so, the spar started. Which didn’t feel like a spar, instead an actual fight.

Xaden launching himself at you, stepping away to try something. Only for him to grab your arm, pulling and holding it behind you. Using the leverage to push you onto the mat, smiling as you tried to escape.

At first he believes you’d tap out, which you would never do. Only for your head to slam back into his. Stumbling off as you spin around, keeping him down. He could easily throw you off, everyone knew that, but he didn’t.

Instead staring up at you. Soon enough the others called off the spar, jolting him back. Rushing up and out of the room.

“So…”

“Shut up.”

***

A knock at your door pulled you from your activity, it kept going until you opened it. Finding Bodhi standing, his arm raised.

“Oh, I didn't expect you to be here.”

“It’s my room, is it not?”

“Well- Doesn’t matter, you’re needed in the courtyard.”

“By who?” Instead of responding he walked away, towards the yard. Weird. Well, it wouldn’t kill you to go, right?

***

All he said was the courtyard, but not where. So you opted for the side, waiting for whoever needed you. Cut off by, seemingly the walls shaking.

Stepping out to see two dragons perching on the walls. Xaden’s dragon, who seemed more interested in you then he’s ever been. And Xaden himself demounting himself.

Then there was your dragon. She was a [Colour] with [Second colour], and clearly, much smaller than Xaden’s. And was looking at Xaden, and you weren’t sure why. She’s never shown interest, if anything, also hated him.

Without even realizing, Xaden was standing in front of you. His hand holding your shoulder, looking slightly upset.

“Did you hear m–, huh.”

“What.”

“You really thought I’d hurt you?” Holding his hand out for you to see, in it was one of your daggers. Specifically the first one you brought here, and on the floor were a few others he’d removed from you.

“With you? Absolutely.” Huffing as you turned away. His hand gingerly but swiftly, held your chin. Turning you to face him, his eyes looked down at your lips before looking back up.

“You’re terrible at hiding secrets.”

“Wh– HEY!” With that he pulled away, and started to walk. Of course you couldn’t let him get away with that, so you ran after him. Hearing the dragons huff, or at least something similar at your banter.

#fourth wing x reader #fourth wing x male reader #xaden x reader #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson x male reader #xaden x male reader #wisteria♥

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alittlebitofloveliness · 3 months ago

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I got my hair cut short a few months ago impulsively.But now I feel really self conscious about it since it’s in an awkward growth phase. So I was wondering if you had any cute HC’s of either Angela,Sylvia Or even Cherry cutting their hair short.

If it’s any consolation anon, my best friend impulsively cuts her hair all the time so it’s perpetually in awkward growing out phases and she always looks adorable- I’m sure you do too. But omg anon tysm for this ask because I actually have SO many thoughts on the the outsiders girls and their hair because I think all of them have cut it at least once but for different reasons

-Sylvia Devares' hair is long, dark curls, but when she was little her long hair is what her father used to grab when he was in one of his rages, and her mom used to yank on it to make her behave. Little Sylvia had been growing it out so she could look like her grandmother, but once when she was seven, entirely fed up after a particularly harsh yank from her mother she grabbed a pair of kitchen scissors and chopped it all off herself. It was horrible and uneven and messy and Sylvia didn’t care. Her mother was furious and refused to get it fixed, so Sylvia wore that slashed off hair for ages, and wore it like a badge of honour until it started to grow back. It grew in uneven and was all different lengths until Sylvia turned ten and finally decided she wanted more normal stereotypically ‘pretty’ hair, but she still remembers the slashed up look and the way it made it so she couldn’t be grabbed as often as her first lesson about how looks can be a kind of defence

-Sandy Okensy always loved her long, flowing blonde hair, obsessed as she always was with disney princesses, Rapunzel in particular. However, she got lice in the third grade and neither her parents nor her older sister had the time to fine comb her hair, so she had to shave it instead. It absolutely DESTROYED her, and ever since her hair is a sort of obsession of hers and she tries to always keep it as long as possible. She also washes it every single day

-Evie Bylilly’s Navajo heritage makes it so that her hair is super important to her. At the time of The Outsiders its past her hips, however, when she was in grade three her grandfather (whom she was very close to) died and she cut it as a sign of mourning and respect. Her haircut was styled in a cute little ear length bob but she still got teased for it a bit. She wouldn’t trade that experience or the hair cut for anything though, and her haircut and the subsequent teasing is part of how she and Sandy became friends in the first place (the bond of the girls bullied in elementary school is unshakable). Evie sees her long hair now as a sign of how she’s grown in the years since her grandfathers passing, as well as a reminder of how long she has grieved him.

-Angela Shepard has always loved her long, silky curls because her hair is one of the few things in the world that is truly hers, however after her hair gets cut by Bryon and Mark (lets go with TWTTIN canon for these head canons) she grows it out a bit and styles it into a mullet. The curls and they style makes her look REALLY cool and she sticks with it for a while before she decides to grow her hair out properly again

-Marcia Valentine is the kind of girl who can’t keep a hairstyle for more than a few months. She has cut and styled, bleached and dyed her hair so many times at this point it’s a wonder her hair isn’t damaged beyond repair. She just gets so bored with the same old thing after a while and always wants something exciting. Lucky for her, she can rock just about any style and any colour- except red. She tried to emulate Cherry once and spend the whole weekend relying her hair back to brown.

-Cherry Valance is very careful with her hair. She likes to layer it and gets it regularly trimmed to keep it healthy, but major changes like big cuts or style changes aren’t for her. Her hair is already such a vibrant colour she doesn’t feel the need to make it any more of a key feature.

Hope this is kinda what you were looking for! Thanks for the ask xx

#the outsiders #cherry valance #angela shepard #sylvia the outsiders #evie the outsiders #marcia the outsiders #marcia valentine

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aemiron-main · 11 months ago

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I Am Henry Creel vs You’re Not Henry: Changing Rooms, Fringe, Henward, TFS, and Walls

So, I know I’ve talked before about the idea of Edward being brainwashed to believe that he’s Henry, but I want to dig into that more after having seen TFS.

So, first of all, Alice asks “Henry” the question “where’s Henry?” and when he says that he’s right here, Alice says “you’re not Henry.”

And also, Virginia keeps getting “Henry” to repeat the phrase “I am Henry Creel and I am normal,” which honestly just makes me less convinced that he’s Henry every time that he says it.

And so, jumping over to Fringe, which is confirmed inspo for ST, in Fringe, Olivia Dunham is brainwashed to believe that she’s actually her alternate timeline counterpart, nicknamed “Fauxlivia,” and part of that brainwashing includes a scene where Olivia, mostly believing but still slightly doubting that she’s Fauxlivia, visits Fauxlivia’s childhood home and Fauxlivia’s mother at said home.

And during that scene, Fauxlivia tells Olivia about a memory of painting the walls of the house when Fauxlivia was a kid- and this memory ends up being a memory that was implanted into Olivia’s brain from Fauxlivia’s brain, so Olivia remembers the memory when Fauxlivia’s mother says it, which is the tipping point for making Olivia truly believe that she’s Fauxlivia.

Which, i’m brining up that scene for two key reasons:

1.) What I talked about in this post regarding the Edward timeline vs the Henry timeline and the changing wall colours of the Creel house between each timeline, much like the memory of the colours of the painted walls in Fauxlivia’s house.

2.) Something that caught my attention during TFS was a really specific, repeated wording: “changing rooms.”

Not only were “changing rooms,” brought up constantly, but it was always specifically worded as “Changing Rooms,” and not “change rooms,” or anything else like that. Which has me staring directly at double meanings and literal Changing Rooms, like Rooms That Change, JUST like the room in the Creel house that I mentioned earlier that we see change- and specifically, we see the colours of the walls change, much like Olivia’s scene in Fringe regarding the memory of the colour of the walls in Fauxlivia’s house.

So, I’m wondering if Edward was brainwashed to believe that he’s Henry, and that’s part of why Virginia keeps telling him to repeat the phrase “I am Henry Creel and I am normal,” because while I could understand the “I am normal,” part, the “I am Henry Creel,” part is a little weirder, because it’s never really explained why he says that/why Virginia would think that he doesn’t believe that he’s Henry.

But if something happened during the Nevada Incident, and “Henry,” instead of coming back wrong, didn’t come back at all, and Edward came back in his place… it would explain why Virginia keeps telling him to repeat that he’s Henry Creel. After all, if Edward ended up in the Henry timeline and was insisting that his name is Edward, not Henry…. Then it would make sense for Virginia to think that he’s just got his brain scrambled/mentally ill (even if Brenner etc know the truth) and she would want to reinforce that he’s Henry.

And more specifically, I’m also wondering if we’re going to see a scene in S5 (or even in other versions of TFS, as other renditions that people have seen/other BTS pics are very different from what I saw), where “Henry” is staring at the wallpaper in the Creel house & knows deep down that something is off about it- because he’s actually Edward and the wallpaper was a different colour in his timeline.

Bonus points if Virginia pulls a gaslight gatekeep girlboss Fringe parallel moment & tries to talk to “Henry”/Edward about the memory of painting the wall and how “it used to be green, but we put the red wallpaper over it, remember?”

#stranger things #edward creel #the first shadow #henry creel #tfs spoilers #st vs fringe

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archandshri · 8 months ago

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8th March ‘24 - [arch] colour!!!! community!!!

Hey Shri! <3

Wow!!!! I’ve seen the finished Brothers Lionheart cover already, but those thumbnails are just incredible. I know you plan to move away from the dark/horror vibes of those images but they’re so impactful!! For sure save those compositions for something else. You’ve put so so much thought into those compositions, it’s inspiring me to put that level of thought into my images too. It's nuts!!!

So y’know how the plan for this blog was to take it easy and do a little at a time? Maybe just pop in and update each other on what we’ve been working on, or even what’s been inspiring us? Well, we haven’t exactly been taking it easy have we :// At the beginning of writing this I thought it was gonna be a chill one but,,, it turned out not to be.

I was lucky enough to be back in Cardiff for a bit the other week, so I hit up the Riso studio. It was super lovely seeing everyone - really made me realise the value of having an artistic community. (for context, I have been travelling recently and it’s been weird, after uni, to not be surrounded by other illustrators)

About once a month, my shared print studio has an event called Open Haus, where we’re open to the public but also loads of members will come in, have a cuppa and a biscuit and talk about art stuff. I happened to be doing some riso printing and Gavin, who’s a right babe and an excellent riso artist, was once again giving me a hand. I love working with other people in the studio, bouncing ideas off them. It sometimes helps me get out of my head (though with practice, I’m also learning to do that by myself!)

Here’s a bit of development work for the print I did a few days before printing. It was actually a bit of development for my comfort characters’ home - but as you know i love building my skills through fun things like that! Trick yourself in to improving xD

This is the print I made!! It’s titled ‘Space Fyn’, named after a place I associate with home <3

I ran into a bit of an issue with the blue, which I originally planned to use. Once I printed it, I hated it (blehhhhhh), so! We tried a mint out instead. I still didn’t like it. But thankfully, Gavin did this thing where he made me step back and view it from afar and then I liked it again (this has happened twice now I think I need to learn to step back without his help ://) Also, there were about 10 people in the studio, and they all voted on the mint, so I printed a run of 15! (ps. you can order them by dming me on Instagram)

Later, I was showing a friend the progress and she made some great points. The dark blue gives more of an evening vibe, while the mint gives more of a sunrise vibe, a bit brighter. But also, it totally changes the tone! This has led me to think more about how different colours can be used for particular vibes :0 and how can we bend that and make it more interesting than ‘red danger’ and ‘blue sad’.

Some notes I took from our conversation

Looking at colours in particular genres (they are used differently in specific ways in different contexts)

for example in Westerns, good guys wearing a white hat and bad guys wearing black hats - misc characters wearing brown.

Light sabres in Star Wars very clearly symbolising ideology

Characters attached to colour - she uses blue and red to symbolise characters that oppose each other in some way, for example.

Character designs, using colours that match well for more grounded characters, and colours that clash for more unstable characters

Power rangers!!

What colour is your ‘normal’ for the world? And how will specific characters break that or blend in?

All of these are just prompts and thinking points of course, it’ll take a lot of exploring to know how i want to apply these to my work.

I was lucky enough to attend Plymouth Comic and Zine fair!!!!! (this is me :0 !!)

It was very lovely, I really enjoyed seeing people from uni, the general Plymouth illustration scene, and those few illustrators you know but only really see at fairs. I also got the opportunity to have some awesome chats about illustration (shoutout to that one hermitcraft fan who let me ramble about Minecraft builds and setting design for a bit <3). I had a chat with the wonderful Ben Wright and Jess Holloway about colours, especially in narrative, and here are some ideas I took away from that!

They didn’t have any specific suggestions for books about colour and narrivite, but again, film came up! Colours in film are discussed a lot, and vary a lot in genre, so i’ll have to do some looking into that.

In particular wes anderson might be good to look at

Hero by Jet Li - haven’t looked at this yet

How to take colour that we may associate with a particular feeling and instead make it do something else. (eg. how to make blue happy)

Colour in context with shape and composition

I was very excited after PCZF and got hyperfixated on a little drawing. You and I were chatting about folds in clothes at the fair, so this image was to play with that a bit.

Yes this is an image of my favorite block lady. I love her. [Illustration of GeminiTay, along with her season 10 skin]

I decided to use the colour pick tool from my reference for accurate colours, which I don’t normally do. I do have a habit of going too light with my values, and a bit swampy and desaturated with my colours. When I started with her trousers, I thought it was wayyyy too dark, but I decided to stick with it till the end anyway. Even though it clearly worked in the reference image, I was still surprised it worked on mine. This has proved to me that it’s okay to push and use some darker colours - which is a bit scary but I’m going to give it a go.

'messing around with colors with imp and skizz' by @applestruda

I also saw this incredible image by @applestruda using wonderful colours! This led me to play around with some high-saturation images. I wanted to draw one of GeminiTay’s builds with the spooky vibes she’s been trying to capture. I downloaded applestruda’s image, colour shifted the hue to one that fits the energy I wanted to capture, and used it to create a high saturation colour pallet. This is a great starting point since I’ve never worked with this kind of colour palette before - it gives me a starting point rather than drowning in indecision and cluelessness XD

Here’s a timelapse of the study!

Once I’d finished, I hue-shifted them for some alt colours. I find this a helpful process for figuring out colour stuff that I would never consider normally. I think I like these more, actually. The one with the reddish wood and green accents feels like it has the vibes of the original image, but is exaggerated a bit. I think it pops. And the pink is cool. I think I could have pushed the values further again, but I'm pretty happy with the final images.

So those are my colour thoughts over for now - I’m hoping to keep playing but use of colour is for sure a lifelong skill.

The past few weeks have been so awesome. I’ve just been so so moulded by conversations with my artistic community and it’s been so lovely!!! I’m really enjoying running around the country and visiting all my pals. It was so nice to see you at PCZF and I’m looking forward to more of it!!! :D

Ps. Here are some sketches I did at the fair

Can’t wait to see more lionheart lil guys :0

Archie <3 :)))))))))

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tev-the-random · 1 year ago

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(Technically a distant continuation of this, but can be read on its own!)

His skin was an imitation of life that refused to age or scar. Although the years had moulded Jimmy into someone near unrecognisable, he looked no different than he did when he left Tumble Town. It was quite anticlimactic, to think he had nothing to show for his trials other than some patches on his clothes and perhaps a sharper wit to his eyes — metaphorically, that is. His actual eyes looked just as glassy as ever.

So after everything he went through to find himself here, he supposed the location was fitting. It, too, was rather anticlimactic: nothing but an old shack in the woods. It didn't even look dilapidated enough to be haunted. The forest didn't bother to have ominous crows cawing at him or any particularly disturbing tree — on the contrary, there were small patches of sunlight shining through the leaves above, and the smell of morning dew was fairly pleasant. If not for the peculiar plants growing in the little garden in front of him, which his cat sniffed suspiciously, he would have thought this was the wrong place.

These weren't plants you could normally find in the Overworld, that much Jimmy was sure of. From bushes of glowing, multicoloured berries to herbs that floated in the air like little leafy balloons, their roots hanging loose. The red vines crawling up a trellis close to the wall reminded him of the Nether, though the blossoming black flowers that grew on it would suggest otherwise.

"Awfully poisonous, those flowers."

He jumped, sword in hand.

Without producing shadow or sound, a person stood beside him, towering over Jimmy. Their silvery hair, washed out robes and sickly pale skin made them stand out against the background; a desaturated figure in the otherwise verdant woods.

There was a moment of silence in which Jimmy tried to gather himself. Any information he had about the one who supposedly lived here left his brain entirely. All of his well-thought-out bargains and self-confident arguments were startled out of him, leaving an uncertain tremble in his voice.

"Um..." He blanked.

In order to give him some more time to think — or maybe they just didn’t care enough to pay attention to him, — the stranger walked past the small man to take a closer look at their garden. They merely shooed Norman, who hissed at their approach before moving to stand beside his owner.

“You ever seen prettier experience bushes?” They said casually, getting rid of a few dead leaves on one of their plants. They examined its colourful berries carefully, only to let them go with a disappointed sound. “Incredible magical properties, but it’s so difficult to grow them right this time of the year...”

"Are you— are you the person I'm looking for?" Jimmy finally spoke. "I was told I could find a wizard in these woods that could help me with a curse."

By their curious demeanour and wise, elderly face, Jimmy expected them to respond with some enigmatic question of their own, something a mysterious master would say. Perhaps a meaningful silence and a sharp glance. Instead, all he got was a quirked eyebrow.

"Well, does it look like there's anyone else around here?"

He made a conscious effort to not look bashful. What a talent he had to surround himself with people who loved patronizing him, huh? But he had had enough time to learn that, if he took the bait and let himself be played for dumb, he wouldn't get anywhere. Seize the discussion.

His determined eyes didn’t move from the grey figure.

"I just got here. Don’t waste my time—"

"Yes, yes. You sure did take your time," said the stranger, moving to the red vines on the trellis. With a pair of small pruning shears they fished out of their pocket, they started cutting away at the flowers. "I, myself, thought you had keeled over and died somewhere along the way. I've been waiting for years, Jimmy! Surely you can hold on for a couple more minutes?"

"You— what?” His focus wavered ever so slightly. “How do you— you've been waiting for me? Like, for me specifically?"

"Who else would I be waiting for?" They chuckled. The sound ringed in Jimmy’s ears, bothering him the same way it always did when people laughed at him. In that regard, he only changed for worse.

Even though he felt like it, he didn't groan. He stared at Norman as if the cat could tell him what the deal with this unusual character was. If he knew how to, Norman would shrug.

Taking a deep breath, Jimmy forced calmness into his tone.

"How would I know?" He'd gotten better at not gritting his teeth at frustration, though he still sounded like he had swallowed a lemon. "You could be waiting for a hundred other people, maybe that’s your deal. I don't know you."

"Ah, but you certainly know of me! Otherwise, I wouldn't be the person you're looking for."

"Oh my g— Are you them or not?"

"Yes." They still didn't bother looking at him. Once satisfied with the number of black flowers they had gathered, they turned around with a swish of their robes and opened the door to their hut. "Well then. Come on inside."

Jimmy hesitated to follow. Norman, on his part, sniffed every inch of the chipped wooden door before sitting resolutely by the entryway. Jimmy took it as a warning. I’ll keep an eye out.

When he stepped inside, he concluded that this was, without a doubt, a wizard's house — a very disorganized one at that. The cabin was much larger on the inside, tall bookshelves extending far into a ceiling that seemed never-ending. Manuscripts littered the floor and desks alongside scrawled notes and old hardback books of all sizes. There were a multitude of coloured candles on nearly every surface, illuminating vials and more vials of the most peculiar ingredients. Jimmy consciously chose to believe that the blood in all those organised flasks on top of the nearest shelf belonged to some wild animal.

From the walls hanged more vines of strange plants, as well as all sorts of animal skins and various paintings and pictures — some pristine, others completely defaced. But they all seemed to depict a same theme, a same character: a very familiar deity with a golden trident and exaggerated grandeur. It was hard to ignore such clear obsession for someone Jimmy thought to be so incredibly unremarkable. The so called god of Stratos was the very reason he ended up like this to begin with. Religious fanatics were the last thing he needed right now.

Completely oblivious to their guest’s discomfort, the mage stood hunched over a counter, surrounded by multiple powders, herbs and and fluids in jars. Their hands worked on a mortar and pestle.

"You could have come sooner, you know?" They commented. "I don't know why you'd go through all that trouble with witches and pirates and whatever else you were doing when you could've just asked Scott for my address, I haven’t moved. But then again, you are the second pettiest individual I've ever seen. Leave it to you to go on some wild goose chase."

Jimmy stopped eyeing the room to stare at them. His brows quickly furrowed, suspicion immediately arisen.

"What does Scott have to do with this?" He asked. His hand itched to grab his sword again. "Actually, no: how do you know me in the first place? How did you know I was coming, huh?"

They hummed. "I’ve got eyes everywhere. You just happened to stumble upon one of them a long time ago."

The wizard stopped their motion to point at an open cabinet to their left. It was low enough that Jimmy could see its contents, and it made him raise an eyebrow: it was a human skull. Inside of one of the eye socket, there was a bright pink jewel; in the other, an unique blue stone caught his attention — it was intricate, as if it had been made to truly look like the iris of an eye.

Absentmindedly, Jimmy reached his wooden hand to touch the artefact, looking for something that could explain its purpose.

But when he blinked, he was on a hill. Vibrant flower patches stretched along the brick roads of a colourful kingdom, where glowing clouds of all colours painted the sky, constantly pumped by tall chimneys on cyan rooves.

Right in front of him, an excitable man dressed in orange spoke; Jimmy couldn't hear any of it. The man, too, glowed ever so slightly, and it made him want to squint at the vibrancy of the scene. The entire world was in deep silence, despite how much it looked like it was screaming at him.

Jimmy raised a hand to run it through his hair in exasperation, only for it to hit something. The cabinet. He blinked again, and back he was at the wizard’s hut as if he had never moved at all.

“What in the world—?”

“Funny, isn’t it?” The mage chuckled. Adding a few drops of a green liquid into the mortar, they went back to crushing. “What was he doing this time?”

“He was— I was just... in Chromia,” Jimmy murmured in disbelief, not knowing how to feel about it. Haunted, he stared at his strange host. “What was that?”

“The eye I gave Scott Smajor has many perks for him. But mostly, it has perks for me. It pays well to have such a well-connected informant. Don’t tell him about it, though, I’m sure he would hate it.” They didn’t sound apologetic at all.

“What do you mean you gave him an eye?!”

“Did he never tell how he got that magical yellow eye of his?”

“I assumed he was just born like that! You know, like, it’s a condition! Het- hetochro- heterochromia? Don’t look at me like that!”

“Oh, trust me, there is nothing hetero about that man.”

Jimmy continued to stare. For the sake of his own sanity, he tended to avoid thinking about any of the emperors he left behind. It had been so long since he last uttered the name of Scott Smajor, and the memories he held weren’t exactly the fondest. But a part of him couldn’t help but feel bad for the collector: this was, at the very least, a huge breach of privacy. Did he even want to know why this random guy in the middle of the woods needed unaware spies? Were they just a creep, or were they looking for something in particular? Did they assume Jimmy was coming over eventually, or had Scott been following him this whole time? Could they even make him do that? Could they control him?

The thought of being a mere puppet to someone made him sick in a horribly familiar way. He had half a mind to get back to Norman and leave.

But, he thought to himself, what if this is the only chance he has? In the years Jimmy had spent travelling, looking for a way to reverse this stupid toy curse, all he’s ever found was disappointment. Rejection. The frustrating loneliness that comes with learning people can’t be trusted; nobody cared enough to help, and those who did were never able to. When he was told there was a powerful wizard in a far away forest who could fix him, he took the lead with multiple doubts.

Now, he faced them all at their full force. What if they were to scam him? What if they were, in fact, nothing more than a massive creep? What if they killed him? Tortured him? Locked him away?

Just what price would he have to pay for his humanity?

He didn’t want to spend another hundred years running around looking for what he had lost. Jimmy was an imitation of life that couldn’t age or scar, but he was tired. So very tired of being a thing, tired of being a walking reminder of his own weakness in the eyes of others. He was tired of being so pathetic, no matter how hard he tried.

“You know what I’m here for, then,” he stated dryly. Resolute.

The mage hummed once more.

“Well, I have an educated guess.” They finally turned their head to look at the toy. The little glass eyes they met were unwavering. “You want your old body back. To be human again. Am I right?”

“You are. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes. But don’t you try anything silly!” His hand brushed against the hilt of his sword, pointedly displaying its netherite shine.

“Oh, don’t bother with threats. This is just as worthy an exchange to me, you know?”

“... And what do you want? In return, I mean.”

They didn’t respond immediately. With an amused smile on their face, they turned back to their workstation and, one by one, started tearing the black flowers from their garden into pieces. Into the mortar the shredded petals went, and after a minute of silent work, the wizard seemed satisfied with the solution they had made. There were another two or three minutes in which they put it through an old brewing stand before transferring it into one of the glass vials scattered around their desk.

With that, they handed him the concoction. Although it may have seemed like there wasn’t much of it in there to begin with, to Jimmy it felt more like a bucket full of bricks. He blinked, as if to ask ‘what the hell am I supposed to do with this?’

“Drink it, boy, drink it!”

Their eagerness wasn’t lost on him. The small man stared down at the inky substance, which smelled no more pleasant than spoiled milk.

“I thought you said those flowers were poisonous,” he pointed, stalling.

“Hm, yes, I do pride myself on growing the finest wither flower hybrids.” They waved Jimmy off as if he had said something particularly flattering. “But alchemy works in fascinating ways, so really, that mixture should be fine. Well, at least I haven’t killed anyone with it yet.”

The toy looked back at the front door, where his cat sat like a gargoyle. Upon noticing the his gaze, Norman got up with all that feline grace of his and approached to sniff the potion. His reaction wasn’t encouraging — he let out one of those tiny cat sneezes that often made Jimmy laugh, — but if he didn’t make a fuss about it, it was probably fine. Either that or the cat didn’t know a thing about magical ingredients either.

“And... what does this do, exactly?” Jimmy asked, still grimacing.

“In theory,” the wizard said from an unknown corner of the room, where they were now heaving an old-looking box from another one of their cabinets. He definitely hadn’t seen them move, “it allows me to freely tinker with you. Think of it as a surgery of sorts,” they quickly added at Jimmy’s horrified expression.

“You do realise this is the most suspicious situation ever?”

“Yes.”

“And you expect me to just drink this, then?”

“Well, if you don’t want it, you can leave.” They shook their head at him while they examined the instruments inside of the box. “I do have other things to do.”

“No, no, just... how can I know you’re not trying to trick me? You know, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Jimmy, if I wanted to do you any harm, I would have done it already.” Their sigh came from somewhere behind him. What were they, a transporter? “Do you think I let just anyone find me here? No. Now, you might have never heard it before, but you are quite special. And I personally would hate to let your potential go to waste because of some tasteless joke.”

That was it. Not pity, not scorn, not condescendence. It was as simple as ‘you deserve better.’ He did deserve better. So he did it.

The potion was thick and oily, and it burned on the way down. It was a mix of spicy and sweet that frankly made him want to throw it right back up. But the vial was small enough that he managed to down the whole thing in a few gulps.

He couldn’t remember anything after that.

---

When Jimmy woke up, the first thought that crossed his mind was that he had to have been buried alive. There was a suffocating weight on top of him, while his body sank heavily on an unstable surface. His chest was impossibly tight, and some horrible, almost painful texture seemed to envelop every inch of his skin.

His skin.

He bolted upright.

The room Jimmy found himself in felt claustrophobic; not because it was particularly small, but because he fit inside of it. It made him dizzy, like it was too foreign to process. But it wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as what he was feeling.

What was he feeling? It was hard to name it all.

A breeze made its way inside through the ajar window, and he could feel it on his face and shoulders like cold knives. The hairs along his arms stood up, goosebumps seeming to make their way into his very soul. There were no more ball joints, no more creaking, no wood grain — instead, he could faintly she the lines of his veins under pale skin.

He kicked away the covers he was tangled up in. The itchy, heavy thing had so many little loose threads, it felt like bugs crawling up his legs. The mattress was no better: his weight made it shift under him; he was almost sure it would swallow him up.

Jimmy touched his face to find that he could feel his own stubble, the lack of hinges on his jaw — it felt so loose, so free that he feared it would somehow fall from his skull. Pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes felt weird. His cracked lips, glued together from sleep, also felt weird. His hair— gods, it was so smooth! The knots were less like fraying yarn and more like he just hadn’t washed it in a few days.

His chest was wrapped in the most uncomfortable bandages possible. They were tight, rough, and Jimmy could feel every last fibre digging into his sides. But he could still run his fingers over his own ribs, touch his own stomach — it was squishy, not like cotton filling, but like flesh.

From the tip of his toes to the top of his head, he was flesh and bones and skin. And gods, he could feel it all — there was so much more surface to feel than he remembered! If he didn’t know any better, he would say he was about to combust.

He laughed in disbelief, only to immediately hug himself when it startled him; since when did his voice vibrate so much? Why was he so hot, yet so cold? So heavy? Why did his skin feel like it was melting underneath his fingers? Why was the sun so blinding, the room so small, the shifting of the bed so loud? Why was his chest even tied up, it didn’t have enough space to breathe—

“Woah there, let’s not do that.” A formless voice ringed in his ears.

Rough hands took hold of his wrist, and Jimmy pulled away like they burned him. His nails had dug bloody marks into his arms.

“Come on, deep breaths,” the owner of said hands told him. They sounded oddly close by, but Jimmy couldn’t bring himself to look at anything other than his own knees. “Yes, like that. Everything is fine, you just gotta readjust to it. Take your time”

He took in air that didn’t quite seem to fill his lungs. Without making a sound, someone closed the window and drew the curtains, cutting that cold breeze and bright light. It became easier to focus on the sting of the bruises he had produced, clinging to himself to confirm they were there.

A new weight dipped the mattress beside him and a mass of greys, browns and whites invaded his vision. Norman stared at him, sniffed at his hand, but was kind enough to not jump on him. If anything, the cat seemed suspicious.

Jimmy cleared his throat; it gave him a headache. But he was smiling fondly. Norman was so... tiny, like a kitten. Had he always been that small? His owner at times thought of him as an impromptu horse, tall and strong. He was a fluffy little thing.

“Hey, big man,” Jimmy murmured hoarsely, surprising himself with his own tone. Raising a hesitant hand, he caressed the cat’s waiting head and promptly melted.

He had forgotten what it was like to run his hand through Norman’s soft fur, to bend down and place a kiss on his little forehead. He’d forgotten the warm weight of the animal on his lap — or his own weight, for that matter. To make the floorboards creak under him, to leave a dip in the bed, to cast a long shadow on a wall. Oh, it was horrendous, too much at once — yet it was every fantastic bit like he had longed for.

“I’m not a toy.” He could shout it from the rooftops. Instead, he let out a wet and true laughter into Norman’s fur. He didn’t even realise he had started crying. “I’m not a toy.”

The wizard observed ominously. They left him a glass of water before exiting the room without a word.

For the first time in years, his own blood underneath his nails and sweat running down his back, Jimmy was alive.

#cw: sensory overload #To be continued #I had to split this one in two parts oops #anyways Jimmy gets to NOT be a toy. As an end-of-season treat #Because the end doesn't mean I'll stop compulsively thinking about them lol #But yeah here's that random wizard from Scott's backstory with their random cursed skull. I claimed them they're mine now #so much potential with Jimmy going *back* to being human that I don't see often #Here's to ruining it for him in the next part #(this is an invite to talk to me about him please-)#Empires SMP #Empires season 2 #empiresblr #Solidarity Gaming #Red Light Bandit AU #Don't Mind Me I'm Writing My Blorbos

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hazelthevixen · 4 months ago

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First time at a circus! + How summer has been so far

Woah! I've never been to a circus before ^w^ Yesterday it was my first time and boy was it amazing :D I went with a friend and there was alotta cool tricks happening :3 Though one of the girls who was doing the trapeze almost looked like she was about to fall and crash onto us and my friend and I was scared OvO; you know fight, flight, and freeze? well I went into flight and my friend went into freeze, but my friend froze at where I was about to flight, but maybe it wasn't so bad that her freezeness stopped me from getting up and dodging, cos luckily the trapeze artist didn't actually fall and was still performing, so brave :o then again I didn't feel like I was in control of my "flight mode", perhaps it was instinct? anywho, I don't think I could ever have the confidence to do that kinda thing because I have basophobia, these people are so brave it's amazing It was also very cool to see people from around the world, and the ring master was a very little buff guy, I think it was dwarfism. I think I had a friend who had that in school once ^w^ my friend was very sweet. the ringmaster was also a clown I think :3 he was a funny guy too ^w^ there was a funny clown girl aswell, she did a few songs :3 I was told that modern clowns don't have the traditional look anymore, I didn't realise that they don't do that anymore with the frilly necks and the honk-honk noses. I think that's kinda sad that, maybe it was seen too much as a "horror" thing.. wish horror didn't have to ruin clowns and kid friendly things all the time.. :< but hey maybe in the future we could bring back traditions and shine some light with the whole clown thing. instead of ruining clowns by making them horror, maybe they could be goofy and funny but in a wholesome way instead ^-^ and maybe they could be cute and sweet like the pastel rainbow and gentle looking ones you often see in little ones things :3 clowns don't have to be scary! Speaking of which, I really like The Amazing Digital Circus aswell :3 it's a really good show and I really look forward to see their future episodes too ^w^ Anyway I had a hotdog and onions at the circus, I never tried it with ketchup and mayo before but it actually went really well with the hotdog ^w^ I think I might try a hotdog like that again :3 normally I have it with bbq sauce so it's good I tried it differently this time today :D I'll definitely try a hotdog like that again ^-^ I also had some fanta orange (the uk one, apparently I heard fanta is different for the americans?) and I had some candyfloss, all during the show UwU I brought my spinny light up wand with me though it was dying out halfway through the show so I figured I should give it a new battery when I'm home or something. also fun fact, I found my blue spinning light up wand when I was at the funfair one time. They were selling white ones at the stand, but someone lost their blue one and never really came back for it :< so I decided to keep it and give it a home because it was still working and still in good condition when I got it, it's a shame someone lost their's tho. and I know they're not here to see this but don't worry it's in a good home now :3 I am proudly autistic and I love colourful lights and rainbow things, so I really like looking at the wand it's fascinating and pretty. I love all my toys ^-^ I have my toy box out so lately I've been thinking about having fun and playing with them soon as age regressing is very comforting to me, it gives me a second chance to have a better childhood this time :> Sadly there hasn't been enough hot days this summer, but we did have a few! few weeks ago I was enjoying a very beachy weekend and I had lots of fun paddling in the sea and in the rockpools, I saw a starfish and even a whole school of fish that were swimming together all at the same time, it was amazing ^w^ they were little skinny fishes, some of them were tryna dig under the sand and I noticed they stick their tails out and I had a wee giggle when I petted their tails that were still sticking out XD I was like helloo I still see your tails lol, some of em either got lazy or played ded while some fully buried after that lol, cute wee things X3 as for the starfish, some of my friends will notice that i shared pictures of them in the furry pack which is my discord server :D I found it peeking under seaweed in a very shallow rockpool so i helped move it to a deeper rockpool with more water to help it survive :3 in one of my beach days, I found a very tired honeybee that was having trouble flying, so I packed it up in a spare tissue and asked the nice peeps at the hotdog stand for a doggy bag, they gave a disposable coffee cup which will do! I was greatful for their help so I put the tired honeybee in there so that I can take it home and give it sugared water and maybe some honey. I'm a modern day hippie, I've rescued bees and took care of a bumblebee before. me and the bumblebee use to chill and eat honey together, I think me and bees both have some things in common: we're always busy, we love flowers and sweet food, and we're all fuzzy 'n' cute! I love bees, but I'm afraid of them, especially when they fly :< but I'd never kill them cos I still like them and appreciate what they do for us. I think it's their stingers that scare me most, but I don't think I get stung by them as I'm a cautious person who likes to step out their way when they fly. but they always go up to me cos they think I'm a flower XD one time I got scared by a bumblebee at the beach this year, I was tryna turn around to run off while I was paddling in the water, and the bee bumped into my head and we both got scared and ran off XDD well the bee flew off but you get what I mean! it was scary at the time but looking back on it now it was pretty funny lol X3 Anywho, back to the honeybee I was talking about. I knew I was gonna be at the beach for a while, so I picked some clover flowers to give to the bee so I can help keep it going for the journey, but sadly when I checked on it, it had already passed away :c r.i.p lil guy, sorry I couldn't save ya :< but at least I did what I could, maybe they passed of old age. bugs don't really live that long.. Ú.Ù I updated the peeps at the food stand and asked if we could recycle the coffee cup (I don't drink coffee btw), I also said thanks again because they also did what they could to help me with rescuing the bee. bees are an important part of the environment so it's important to care for them aswell as the environment. if you see a tired bee on the path, blow on it let it know to fly to a safer place where it wont get stepped on. sometimes I give it a gentle nudge with a leaf if it's extra tired, though if it can't fly well it might be a good idea to care for it, or take it to a safe naturey area with lots of flowers. though I would definitely recommend nursing it back to health especially There was also planes making colours in the sky when I was at the beach in the water, it was super pretty ^-^ I can be at the beach all day playing in the water X3 it's fun! before I catch the bus, I like to get an ice cream on the way home :3 they always sell really cool candies at ice cream shops, I love to buy some at times ^-^ we also get really cool flavours of ice cream here, I love bubblegum flavour ice cream! I also like irn bru ice cream aswell as turkish delight and white choccy flavour, yum! ^w^ I like to get 2 scoops of a different flavour in each one, though it can be hard to pick when there's so many delicious flavours to try <X3 I like alotta things :3 luckily the bus stop has lots of cool benches so I get to enjoy an ice cream while I wait for the bus home which is nice too ^-^ I like passing by the old castle with the highland cows and shetland ponies as I go home, it looks cool and Scotland needs more of that going on here :3 I uh..ran outta things to talk about.. ^-^; hope you liked the journal! :3

Please be nice when commenting! I refuse to be criticised so please accept that. If you're gonna be mean, don't say anything at all. Thankies for checking out my post! Meep meep! ヽ(◕ヮ◕)ﾉ I'm on other places too! ^-^

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greypetrel · 8 months ago

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Dance the Marigold

@ndostairlyrium asked for this prompt for either Alyra or Aisling. And as the wise man said…

I challenge you, reader. If you read this, and you’re willing: - Design the ugly outfit Alyra would bully your Inquisitor/Hawke/Warden/OC into wearing. - Design Alistair’s prized outfit, Aisling’s shoes or Nathaniel’s hat. And of course, tag me when you do!

33. Orlesian shoes with jeweled buckles – Alyra/Aisling

“… What are those?”

“Don’t ask me.”

Aisling groaned, wobblying on her feet on a pair of overly tacky high-heeled shoes that just demanded attention. They would have demanded it even if they weren’t so different in style they were from the tartan skirt she wore and the simple white sweater above.

The shoes were covered in yellow silk that was damasqued in silver, had a high heel painted in bright red with golden swirls all over the exterior, and on the square point laid a horrible big buckle in silver with too many pearls and gems of too many colours mounted all around.

Beside the fact that she was so out of shape with them -it’s been more than two years since Josephine had last had a chance to force her in wearing high heels, after all- that she looked exactly like Bran that time he tried to walk on the frozen lake, extremely ungracious and unsure of her footing, they were so evidently out of her taste that Cullen couldn’t but think that something had happened.

He knew his wife, and he knew she would have declared high heels illegal if she had had enough power to do so and not having to wear a pair anymore. He was there when she had leaned in, during an important party at Skyhold, smiling very rigidly and asked him for help because she slipped her feet out of the shoes while eating, accidentally kicked one of them away and couldn’t reach it anymore. And the hem of her skirt wasn’t long enough to cover up that she was barefoot. He was the one who suggested her to raise up as she was accepting the Duc’s invitation to dance and pretend to faint instead, and had to let her go as soon as they were safe behind the door leading to her tower because she started laughing as soon as they were out of the crowd and couldn’t stop thrashing around.

So no, her wearing high heels, and such a busy and tacky pair moreover, wasn’t anything normal. And now she was trying to make her way down the front stairs of Vigil’s Keep on them, trying desperately not to unbalance herself and fall.

Something definitely happened.

“Do you want some help?”

Aisling turned to glare at him.

“Just to make it down the stairs. I could carry you.” He offered, knowing full well that she actually liked being picked up. She actually liked it a little too much.

She frowned, this time, tho, pouting at him. Her cheeks took colour, but she didn’t yield.

“Absolutely not. What if he sees me? I won’t give him the satisfaction.”

Cullen rolled his eyes to the sky at the answer, knowing full well whom that “he” was, and trotted up to flank her, without actually touching her but still ready to catch her if she fell. She recovered in the last years after the Exalted Council, the worst was definitely over, but she never fully regained her balance. She learnt to walk around a missing arm and became proficient in a fight again, but on high heels and down a stairway? Better safe than sorry. Not to make her feel crowded and pitied -which he knew she hated- he went on speaking, taking the chance to sate his curiosity.

“Why are you wearing those…” He stopped, looking for a fitting term. He doubted she actually liked the contraptions, but in the case he was wrong, he didn’t want to offend. “… ah, those shoes?”

Aisling hissed, her cheek pinked again, as her pout grew.

“… They’re Leliana’s nameday gift. I have to break them in, since we have the same foot size.”

Cullen rose an eyebrow at her, snapping forward as she wobbled more, gasping aloud and flailing her arm to regain balance.

“I’m ok! I’m up!” She declared, before he could catch her. She regained her lost balance and very carefully descended the last steps sideways. “It’s but a kindness for a friend, poor Leliana is so busy being the Divine, she deserves shoes already broken in and more comfortable…” A pause. “… Since she somehow can find walking on stilts comfortable.”

He hummed in recognition, reading between the lines and offering her his arm, hooked at the elbow. Now that the stairs were gone, she looked up and smiled gratefully at him, placing her hand on the crook of his elbow. They moved forward, he knew she wanted to check on the horses and moved towards the stables, automatically, slowing down his pace. To accommodate her uncertain steps, and also to steal some more moments with his wife. Since they’ve been called to the Keep, they had both been so busy in different tasks that they saw each other little. More than in Skyhold, but after two years of living together, not having her around and seeking contact at every single given chance felt weird and felt bad, and he quite missed her.

But he also knew one thing, and waited after they passed the smithy -Herren and Wade were two gossipers, and he didn’t want this to be spread instantly in the Keep- before asking for confirmation of his suspects, a smile on his face.

“So, the Warden-Commander manipulated you in wearing shoes you hate.”

A pause.

“… She was very convincing…” Aisling admitted, embarrassment deep in her tone.

It made Cullen laugh and earned him a swat on his elbow and a pout.

“Don’t laugh!”

“I’m sorry!” He breathed, but still continued laughing. “It’s just funny seeing you so in awe.”

“I’m not in awe she just…” She wove her stump around, gesticulating. “… Has this way with words that makes everything she says seems the only logical solution. Beside, it was for a good cause.”

“A good cause?”

“She promised she would have rested, if I did. And…” She sighed. “Maybe she’ll hate me less, if I wear them.”

Cullen frowned at that, recognizing a hint of self-deprecation she only had after the Exalted Council. Or well, that she started voicing in such harsh terms after that. He knew she hated when he worried and fussed, so, he just told her he didn’t think Mahariel hated her, and squeezed her hand sympathetically. She smiled and hummed in recognition, and even if he knew she was all but convinced, she didn’t insist either. Which was a start.

They reached the stables, and he saw Aisling looking at the shoes. At the ground in the stables. And at the shoes again with a face like she just ate a pickle -she ate everything but pickles, he discovered.

“Can’t you take them off?”

“… I wish it was that simple.” She hissed. “Stupid shoes and stupid me, one would think that three years dealing with the damn Dowager would make me more clever…”

She started muttering, self-deprecation returning.

“Youare complaining? You?!”

A third voice, full of offence and wounded pride, suddenly called out, making the both of them turn. Peeking from the corner of the stables with an angry face and a shoulder that was bare over… Some pink floofy thing made in fabric and quilted with tiny orange bows, there was none other than Alistair, glaring daggers at Aisling. Naming, glaring more daggers at Aisling: their relationship started badly in Redcliffe, all those years ago, and they kept on bickering between them. Most of all, the King of Ferelden evidently liked to rile the former Inquisitor up, and found it fun, as Aisling inevitably got irritated and answered in tow. In the last days since he and Anora reached them, they hadn’t avoided bickering once when they were in the same room.

Right now, both former Inquisitor and Commander stood there, not understanding why the complaint.

It became clear when Alistair looked left and right very carefully, and only once he was very sure there wasn’t anyone around stepped forward, revealing himself.

In a poofy long dress in Orlesian female fashion, extra poofy with extra tulle around the skirt, bows in orange silk where probably bows shouldn’t be, the poofiest sleeves sprouting out of a off shoulder neckline, and corset covered in gold décor and swirls, sinching snugly his torso down to his hip.

They exchanged a look.

Cullen’s jaw fell open, recognizing the same handiwork behind the shoes and the dress, and not daring saying anything. That was, in spite of the appearance, his king after all.

Aisling, less prone to recognize authority just by name for a start, and very less prone to recognize his authority in particular, started to laugh, loud and hard.

Which made Alistair glare harder at her.

“Andraste’s holy knickers- Be more loud about it, would you, let the whole Keep know!”

“Why shouldn’t they know, you look so good in pink!”

“And you have chandeliers on your feet, so what.”

Aisling didn’t stop laughing, and squealed when the man started to chase her, with the obvious intent of shutting her mouth. She rushed behind Cullen’s back, and they would probably have used him as a pivot to run in circles, if Aisling was in a condition to run.

As it was, she took three steps and she was starkly remembered just how little she could walk on heels by tripping on her own feet and falling hard on the ground.

Face first.

“There, serves you right for laughing of me.” Alistair grumbled, crouching down to help Aisling out nonetheless.

“I’m sorry, but…” She snorted again, shuffling to get sitting on her butt. Looking up at the king, she bit her lower lip, in an evident attempt to stop laughing. “… all that tulle…”

“Yeah yeah I look like the work of a crazy confectioner high on elfroot. But I’ll tell you something.” He glowered at her, seriously, and rose one finger. “I’m not dancing the marigold.”

He sat down on his butt as well, still shuffling his hands -gloved in cream silk- to fan the wide skirt out around him in an halo of pink and white. Cullen approached his wife, still a little on pins and needles staying around nobles and figures he was taught all his life to respect. Figures he wouldn’t ever have imagined to witness dressed in a bombonniere of a dress. Which didn’t look half bad on him, beside the ridiculousness of the cut, the overflowing of details and the extra poofiness making him look like a fairy out of a children book.

“Are you fine?” He asked Aisling, crouching down himself.

“Yes, venhan, thank you. I’m all right and…” She stretched her legs forward, monstruosities of shoes twinkling in the spring sun, a little dirty but still in good condition, and twirled her ankles around. “… Yes, still in one piece.”

“These are the ugliest shoes I’ve ever seen.” Alistair commented. “And you walk like a drunk varghest.”

“Well at least I don’t look like a meringue.” A pause. The elf squinted at him. “A nasty meringue filled with liquorice.”

“At least I know how to move as a meringue.”

Cullen paled when Aisling gasped and swatted his arm. Swat whose effect was nulled by the poofiness of the sleeve, absorbing the hit fully. It made Alistair grin and Aisling pout, but at least it served to stop them from launch themselves in another round of bickering and trying to prove the other wrong. A small mercy Cullen was very grateful for. Before his wife could concoct another way to irritate the man, he decided to ask first, trying to convince himself that it wasn’t his king the person he was speaking with, and his wife had been an important personality as well. His wife got a marriage proposal from the Grand Duke in Orlais, put the Empress on her throne and still wrote -and spoke- very regularly to two Magisters in Minrathous. It was easier, with Alistair, if he was wearing a whipped cream pie of a dress.

“Ah. The Warden-Commander has been very convincing with you too, your majesty?”

“Actually it was… Wait.” He looked at the buckled shoes. At Aisling. At the shoes again. “She forced you too?”

Aisling, the one addressed with the question, actually blushed, stretching her lips and looking down.

“She was very convincing.”

“Ok, what did you do? Now I’m curious.” He asked, more relaxed, and looked up at Cullen. “Is she this good at irritating aristocrats in general? Or it’s just with us?”

“I’m not-”

“In general. You should have seen her with both the De Chalons.”

“Hey. They were assholes-”

“Aaaaaw that’s conforting. Also explains why Alyra likes her so.”

“I’m not-“ Aisling stopped, transfixed, eyes turning big and mouth keeping open as she took the last sentence in. She blinked, once and twice, and it was Cullen’s turn to snort.

“Wait did you say- She likes me?” She asked, full of disbelief. She turned towards Cullen, a dumbfounded expression on her face. “Venhan, you heard him too?”

Cullen nodded, but Aisling turned back to the other man, squinting at him with suspicion.

“You’re not mocking me again, are you?”

“I swear I’m not.” Alistair laughed, at this, raising both his hands to show her his palms. “Did you really think she doesn’t like you?”

“She always glares at me.”

“She glares at everyone. She glares at me too and well. Point is: she would have never asked you of all people to be here if she didn’t like you.”

It made sense. It made a lot of sense, since the reason why they were there was delicate and personal, requiring the utmost secrecy. Aisling lowered her eyes, taking the news in. Her shoulder slumped some, as she stared transfixed at her yellow shoes. Circled the points around, making the heavy buckle catch light.

“But-”

“I’m in the ugliest dress ever. The shoes just mean she’s petty, and-”

“Who’s petty, exactly?”

They all turned around, to be met with the piercing stare of the Arlessa herself, one arm hooked with the one of a Morrigan who looked sincerely amused, in the way a cat that catches a mouse is, the other hand resting placidly on the big bump under her stays. She took colour on her skin since the cure and looked plumper in the late pregnancy, her face more rounded, but the piercing, judgng expression stayed the same.

“No one, love. Absolutely no one would have forced the King of Ferelden and the Inquisitor she hired as a healer to do a walk of shame around her own castle in two of the ugliest, more embarrassing pieces of clothing the world has ever seen.”

Alyra looked totally unimpressed.

“Have thou already danced the marigold?” Morrigan asked, smirking down at him. “Dost tell me I didn’t miss it.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re only envious because I look better than you in a corset.” Alistair scoffed, pointing his chin up in pride.

They started bickering, and Aisling, in the meanwhile, stared at the Arlessa, transfixed as before. She leaned towards Cullen, as the trio discussed between them of marigolds and darkspawn to show the dance too, and ways to get some undead bodies to force him to dance.

“Do you think that’s true?” She asked him, with a hint of vulnerability it took years to be so comfortable in showing.

“Only one way to know for sure, love.” Cullen smiled, leaning forward and pressing a kiss on her lips for courage.

She smiled, still bashful at it after all these years, as she always was when he showed affection so openly. She mouthed a thank you, and turned around, looking at the other Dalish.

“You didn’t make me wear these shoes because you hate me, then?”

Everyone stopped to turn and look at her. Aisling rose up on her feet, brushing her skirt off with her hand and straightening her back to look at Alyra. She was still shorter than her, even with the added height.

Alyra, on her own, rolled her eyes to the sky, scoffing aloud as if the topic annoyed her greatly.

“I don’t know what made you think I do, if I called you here now of all time.” She scoffed, stepping forward to look at the other woman in the eyes. “You’re annoying. And whiny. The way you have of having no self esteem and at the same time being prideful to the point of stubbornness makes me crazy.”

She listed, matter-of-factly enough. Aisling stretched her lips and contracted her fist, closing on the wool of her skirt until the knuckles turned white. But she didn’t lower her eyes, not once, under the scrutiny.

“And you.” Alyra turned to Alistair, who smiled smugly at her. “You’re insufferable, and speak when you’re not supposed to and your sense of humour is getting worse by the year I swear.”

“I love you, too.”

Alyra groaned, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t hate neither of you. Or none of you would be here in the knowing of the progeny.”

She patted her bump to state where the progeny still was, at least for the next two weeks. Then, she looked alternatively at the both of them, with the air of a mother who was scolding her children for the tenth time and was tired of repeating herself.

“That said, you are the midwife, your competence is appreciated and welcomed, but your contribution is not required much until the progeny decides to show up.” She nodded at Aisling first, and then at Alistair. “And you are the father, your contribution was necessary to the purpose, and welcomed, but right now is inconsequential.”

“May I remind you that-”

“You may not.” Alyra cut him off. “What I’m saying is: I didn’t prevent two darkspawn invasions to be told when I should or shouldn’t rest and sit down. If you still think your opinion is so necessary, you can give it to me and to all the Keep in ugly clothes.”

She glared at the both of them for good measure, a challenge on her face to speak back at her. No one dared saying a word, Aisling was frozen on the spot, Alistair smiling with more of a habit of such reactions, and knowing better than to answer from experience. After a full minute spent without blinking, she turned to Cullen, raising one eyebrow at him.

“Do you have anything to say too about my whereabouts and level of activity?”

“N-no, ma’am.”

Instinctively, he straightened his back, his right hand twitched and he had to remind himself that she wasn’t his superior, she wasn’t a Chantry mother, and saluting her would be overly silly. More than calling her ma’am, which made Alistair snicker. It pleased Alyra, who… didn’t smile, but nodded her head with a hint of approval.

“Someone at least turned their brain on today, good to know. Please talk to Nathaniel and tell him to do the same, you’ll recognise him by the hat.”

Alistair started to fully laugh, and quickly rose to his feet, a glint of amusement in his eyes that he totally lacked when he arrived, three days prior.

“I order you to wait, sir, this I have to see it.”

“He was in the great Hall talking with Varel.” Alyra informed him, casually, the ghost of a smile curling her lips.

“At the cost of having people see you in this dress?” Morrigan teased.

“I do look great in pink.” He shrugged, and came to offer his arm, gloves in silk under the poofiest sleeve ever, to the Arlessa, strutting just for show. “My Lady, if you would be so gracious as to do me the honour…”

He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and in spite of rolling her eyes to the sky and shaking her head, Alyra smiled, shifting to hook her arm in his.

“Your majesty, you look particularly dashing today, who dressed you?”

“I think it was Lady Velanna who chose the item, if my intuition doesn’t wrong me.”

Alyra rose an eyebrow. “Why shouldn’t it have been me, pray tell me.”

“Darling.” He scoffed, starting to walk away. “She’s the one petty enough to buy something like that. You wouldn’t have touched this monstrousity if it was free, not even for pettiness, and insulted the designer for good measure.”

Alyra’s laughter echoed as the pair walked away, leaving the other three to stand, two dumbfounded and one amused. One amused who turned to the other two and smiled.

“Ma’am.” She pointed out, with the same tone of a cat who just was left unattended in a milk shop.

Cullen blushed and scoffed, trying -and failing- to give himself a tone.

“She was very convincing.” He grumbled.

“She really was.” Aisling nodded, before turning to Morrigan, defeat on her face. “Is she like this with everyone?”

Morrigan laughed, nodding towards the side and starting to walk. The pair followed, still arm in arm, with Aisling who didn’t even mention the option to take her shoes off.

“Only with the people she cares about. She doesn’t bother trying to teach a lesson to the rest.” The Witch explained.

“Did she ever make you wear or do something embarrassing?”

Morrigan turned, raising one eyebrow in scepticism as her all answer. A clear denial, even if her smile betrayed some affection.

“I know other ways to make her do something.”

She cryptically said. When prodded and asked about them, offered options and hypotheses, tho, she just chuckled mysteriously and refused to elaborate any further.

“You’ll see.” She just told them, and that was it.

---

Aisling did, indeed, see, three days later.

Three days later, when the Warden-Commander’s water broke as she was trying to show a pair of recruits how to effectively duck and counter a shield bash “without being idiots about it”.

She looked stunned as if the thing surprised her, and was very pissed off when now both Morrigan and Aisling intervened and dragged her back into the Keep.

Morrigan stopped Alyra’s every complaint that she should finish the training, that this would require hours and she at least could spend some finishing her job and she didn’t understand why everyone fussed over her like so, women give birth all the time it was no big deal.

The Witch, seraphical as if she was expecting the very same scene to occur, managed to put the Warden in a corner, had Aisling state that yes, the physical exertion and the too wide and sudden movement as she showed the recruit the move she intented him to make was what triggered the labour. Alyra looked at her with an expression of pure, utter betrayal that froze Aisling on the spot. Only then the woman seemed to notice one thing about the room. Everything was exactly in the place it was supposed to be: pots of water with glyphs ready to be activated to warm them up. Towels, a table with herbs and a mortar, all in pristine order and just ready to be used. As ready as Aisling was, calmly slipping an apron on and waving her fingers to tie the ribbon on her back.

“… This is all too ready. Were you expecting this to happen?” She didn’t ask: she inquired as if they were in her throne room and she was interrogating some of her vassals about something she was the last to know.

“Uh… Yes? Just in case… You are at 38 weeks, and you were moving a lot…” Aisling managed to spit out, almost apologetically.

Alyra squinted at her, but before she could say anything, Morrigan interrupted her and grabbed both her shoulders, pushing the woman down to sit on her bad and forcing her to look up at the Witch. Witch who had a scolding, out of patience expression on her face which reminded her all too much of Mythal in the Fade, all those years ago.

“You did it all by yourself. Now, will listen and you will do as your midwife says?”

Alyra squinted at her, betrayal on her face. But, she didn’t disagree.

“Say it.” She urged the other, a challenge in her tone.

“We told thee so.”

And indeed, those four words worked better than magic, and when Velanna reached them, she held no ugly clothes in her arms, and wasn’t asked to fetch some.

No one celebrated the birth of the crown prince dressed ridiculously.

#dragon age #dragon age fanfiction #da fic #dao #dai #alistair x female mahariel #morrigan x female mahariel #cullavellan #writing petrel #alyra mahariel #aisling lavellan #tell me alistair wouldn't look good in a corset I won't believe you

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tagsecretsanta · 2 years ago

Text

From @janetm74

From and by @janetm74 for @amistrio

Overly competitive baking,

Searching for a lost item,

“I think you might have too many decorations.”

First Christmas

Jeff eased his aching body back into the lounge chair his boys had bought him. The couches were great, but his poor body needed something both softer and more supportive. The brown leather La-Z-Boy had been a joke at first, but then when he’d actually tried one when he’d been in the clinic he’d tried one and had been convinced.

He'd watched, highly amused, when both Scott and Virgil had cuffed Gordon around the head when he’s suggested ‘only old people have La-Z-Boys.’

Sighing at the thought, Jeff shifted slightly to get a better view, banishing the thought that he did feel old. Instead, he cleared his throat.

Time to be a father again.

‘Boys, you’re lop-sided.’

Gordon and Alan stopped what they were doing and looked at him before looking back at their handiwork. Alan stayed knelt on the ground, but Gordon got up and walked over to stand and look at the tree from Jeff’s vantage point. He looked back at his father and grinned.

‘Good catch, Dad! Al, we have too much red and not enough green on the left side.’

He didn’t catch Alan’s grumbled reply, but the terrible two soon rearranged the tinsel so that the colours were more even.

Virgil was going to have a fit when he got back, Jeff decided with a grin, but it was worth it to see his two youngest having so much fun decorating the tree. They’d asked him to help but he wasn’t up to that level of concentrated movement yet, so Jeff had contented himself watching and adding mild comments from time to time.

‘Where are the candy canes?’

Both his boys had the good grace to look guiltily at him, and Jeff burst out laughing. He reached down to the bag he’d placed beside his chair in the knowledge that this would happen and tossed Gordon a new box.

‘Try to get these ones on the tree,’ he chided gently, and they nodded, haphazardly distributing the canes everywhere.

By the time his Ma came up with his meds and a glass of fruit juice – still no coffee yet – the tree was almost done.

Sally looked over and bit her tongue at the state of the tree, but she knew it had been decorated with both love and enthusiasm, rather that the artistic eye of Virgil or the ordered logic of John. Scott would have been even worse for regimented decorations.

‘Boys, go get a drink. There’s cookies too.’ At her grandson’s faces she huffed but relented. ‘MAX made them.’ The two suddenly scrambled up and rushed to the kitchen, much to their father’s amusement.

‘The tree is missing something, Jeff.’

He looked it over more critically. His Ma was right, as always. The topper was missing.

‘The star! I wonder why they haven’t put it up yet.’

‘They’re probably waiting for everyone else to come home. You know it’s tradition for everyone to be present.’

Everyone. That included him this year. His first Christmas. The stirrings of an idea formed as he watched his mother pull out a normal star from the box and place it on the table ready for the eldest three and Kayo to return home.

Yeah. It was a good idea, but he had no idea where it was. Jeff got up, smiled at his Ma and made his unsteady way to the elevator. The others wouldn’t be back for a few hours yet – tackling a smallish bush fire in the outback still took time – and he knew that once Virgil was back he wouldn’t have a spare moment to himself. Now was the only time to do this.

He took the elevator down to the lower level and turned to the storerooms rather than the hangars. Jeff almost faltered when he saw the sheer number of boxes there, but they were mostly labelled in Scott and Virgil’s neat writing and he hoped that would make all the difference.

The rumbling sound and the slight vibration told Jeff his boys and Kayo were back, and he paused to look at his watch. Damn, he’d been down here a good couple of hours and still hadn’t found it. Well, he’d have to sneak out later…

Speaking of the rest of his family being back, he better skedaddle before Virgil – or worse, Scott – came looking for him. Jeff made his way to the hangar knowing he wouldn’t make it back up to the living room. He arrived the same time Virgil, John and Kayo stepped out of Two.

Jeff smiled as Virgil frowned at him, knowing he’d be in for the inquisition later. As expected his medic son gave him a visual once-over that promised trouble should he have anything more wrong with him than he had when they had gone out on their rescue. Jeff endured it with good grace. His Lucy was just the same whenever any of the boys were sick or had hurt themselves, and Virgil was definitely channelling this side of his inheritance.

John’s smile got broader as Virgil’s ‘once-over’ seemed to go on forever, and Jeff managed a sneaky rueful smile when his middle son’s head was facing the wrong direction.

‘Dad, why are you down here? Is everything alright?’

‘Yes, Virgil. Everything is fine. I was just stretching my legs. Don’t worry, I took the elevator down.’

The squinty-eyed stare he got in return told him Virgil wasn’t buying that excuse, but Jeff had successfully raised five sons and could hold his own. Eventually Virgil sniffed and smiled.

They made the living room the same time as Scott’s voice rang out clear and slightly resigned:

‘I think you might have too many decorations on that side Gords, Allie.’

Virgil shared an alarmed look with everyone and shot out of the elevator to Gordon’s shout of:

‘Timber!’

‘How could you forget to decorate the other side?’

‘I thought Virgil and Kayo had wedged it against the corner so we only had the one side to decorate.’

‘Allie, your eighteen years old. Has Virgil ever wedged the tree so that only one side needed decorating?’

‘Well, noooo.’

‘But there’s a first time for everything, am I right, Al?’

‘Yeah, Scott. There’s a first time for everything.’

Jeff, John and Kayo watched, highly amused, as Virgil rounded on the terrible two, who so far hadn’t noticed his approach because Alan was buried under the tree and Gordon was valiantly trying to hold up the top.

All three jumped when Virgil’s very annoyed voice was heard.

‘I thought I told you two not to touch the tree.’

‘Err…you did, Virg, but we wanted to surprise you.’

‘Yeah, Gords said you didn’t really mean for us not to get involved. We do this every year, after all.’

‘You do do this every year, Al. And every year I ask you not to touch the tree until we are all together. And every year you don’t wait and end up collapsing the tree.’

By this time Scott and Virgil had stood the tree up and the two youngest were sheepishly looking at each other. Jeff bit his lip trying not to laugh. But he should have known better…

‘Dad was helping and so we thought it was alright.’

Yeah, thanks Allie, Jeff thought as honey-brown and sky-blue eyes turned to him.

‘Busted,’ whispered John and promptly disappeared with Kayo to the kitchen. Sometimes Jeff wondered why he had so many boys. They were all such a handful.

‘Dad?’

‘It’s ok, Virgil. I didn’t leave my chair.’

‘But you did help?’

‘I might have suggested there was a little more red than green.’

Virgil looked at him and there was just a hint of disappointment in his eyes, and Jeff wondered how he had forgotten how important decorating the tree was to his son.

Eight years apart hadn’t helped his memory in a lot of areas.

But then Virgil’s eyes cleared and his son smiled at him, and Jeff felt the years and the sorrow lift.

‘I see. Well, since you know all about decorating, Dad, you won’t mind supervising the competition.’

Jeff looked at him suspiciously. Virgil grinned back. As did Scott and Gordon and Alan. They were up to something – he just didn’t know what. A competition did not bode well – he knew how competitive his boys were with each other – and to supervise an event…he ought to say no. But before he could John and Kayo had arrived with his Ma and Virgil had announced that he was going to supervise this year.

What he was supervising Jeff had no idea about.

That evening the four boys and Kayo decorated the tree under Virgil’s eagle eye while Jeff watched from the comfort of his chair. As the tree began to take form he couldn’t help but see Lucy in everything his boys did. It was in the way Virgil directed them, the way that Scott helped, the way that John laughed, Gordon’s smile and Alan’s joy.

Nights like this always brought home how much he still missed her and how grateful he was that he still had all their boys.

Eventually the tree was completed. Jeff marvelled at the symmetry Virgil always managed to maintain, despite the obvious excess of green in comparison to the other colours of tinsel. The star was set to one side for fitting tomorrow.

Virgil took position at the piano and serenaded everyone with carols and Christmas music. There was humming and quiet singing and Jeff lay back in his chair and drifted off to the sounds of his family.

When he awoke only Scott and John were still up, drinking hot chocolate by the smell of it. Jeff listened to their murmurs as he woke fully, but he didn’t interrupt them other than to bid them good night.

He made his way over to the elevator, but he didn’t go up to his room. Rather, he went back down to the storage rooms, determined to find the object he’d been looking for it.

Jeff jumped out of his skin when a hand touched his arm when he got to the door. Kayo grinned at him and he smiled sheepishly at her.

‘Figured you’d come back, Jeff.’

‘Kayo. You gave me a heart attack!’

‘Nonsense.’

‘Why are you here?’

‘I’m here to help.’

Jeff held her gaze for a moment before nodding and explaining what he was looking for. They searched for a couple of hours and still he couldn’t find it. Cursing to himself for not taking better care of it, Jeff was just about to call it a night when Kayo gave a quiet call and held up the lost object in her hands.

His face lit up. Now all he had to do was get it onto the tree without his boys finding out – no mean feat and not something he could do on his own. Once again Kayo came to the rescue, promising to hide it in her room until the end of tomorrow.

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. Jeff knew that there were plans for the day. Val had told him the GDF were going to take care of rescues this Christmas so that they could have three full days off together as a family. And Christmas Eve was traditionally the day Lucy topped the tree.

It was more than fitting that he be able to use her special item to do so this year.

Yawning, Jeff finally made his way to bed, grateful that he didn’t need to pass the boys’ bedrooms to do so. He had no idea what his family had planned for tomorrow, but if it included a competition then he needed his wits about him.

Everyone was up by the time Jeff stirred. He rued once more the changes that eight years away had wrought. Before he would have been up with Scott and Gordon, putting the coffee on and settling down to work. Scott would be the one to bring him coffee after his run and the two of them would discuss business before Gordon would join them, slurping one of his green smoothies as obnoxiously as possible.

God, he missed those days.

But dwelling on what if’s never was the Tracy way, and he was up and ready as fast as possible. Nothing prepared him for the state the kitchen was in.

There were six stations created spread over the large room. Two on the kitchen table and two on two trestle tables set up. Jeff’s eyes went wide as he saw the sheer quantity of equipment set on a separate table and once more he wondered what he’d let himself in for.

His Ma entered the kitchen and gave him a juice and a smile.

‘Thanks, Ma. What’s going on?’

‘They’ve been waiting all morning for you.’

He frowned at her cryptic reply, but she hadn’t finished.

‘Breakfast is out on the patio. Hurry up and don’t keep everyone waiting. Penny and I are off to the mainland for the day.’

She looked him over with slight frown.

‘Don’t let Gordon burn the kitchen down again.’

Jeff was aware that his mouth was hanging open as his Ma patted his cheek and left. Whatever was planned was obviously one that had become a tradition. It wasn’t one that he remembered, and he smiled at the thought of learning something else about his remarkable boys.

That they baked was not lost on him. Jeff knew that Scott and John were the cooks of the household – they had both proved that when their Mom had died and the two had stepped up to cover the loss of both parents for that dark time. That the others had followed suit was no great surprise either, and even his Ma’s warning about Gordon fitted perfectly.

Better get out there and see if the hords had left him anything to eat.

Of course, Virgil had set aside a plate of eggs and bacon and a plate of fruit with another glass of juice. Everyone was still eating, so it wasn’t as late as Jeff had thought, and the babble around the table didn’t stop as he joined them. The discussion was about plans for the day and tomorrow, yet no one touched on the kitchen and what was going to happen in there.

Five boys had given Jeff more patience than living on the Moon ever had. He could play the waiting game. Sure enough, once breakfast had been finished and cleared away. He sat and waited.

He didn’t have to wait for long.

Alan was the one who came to fetch him and ‘escort’ him into the kitchen. Another table had been set up, a small one, with a chair and he was ceremonially walked over and sat down. Gordon put a paper crown on his head and Jeff bit his lip trying not to laugh out loud. They were all so serious.

Predictably it was Scott who started the ball rolling.

‘Every year on Xmas Eve we have a baking competition to find out who has the best gingerbread house. Each year there is a different theme, we all make plans and then Virgil and Brains make the templates as we request and we spend today baking. Normally Penny and Grandma judge whose is the best.’

There was a murmur from everyone and Scott broke out into a grin.

‘This year it seems appropriate that you get to be the judge.’

Well, this wasn’t what Jeff had expected at all. But he couldn’t help but grin at his six children. Here were six of the most dedicated, most amazing people he’d ever had the honour of knowing…and they were making gingerbread houses. God he loved them so much.

‘I would be honoured. What do I have to do?’

‘Just make sure no one cheats by trying to sabotage someone else’s creation and then decide whose is the best.’

‘Is there a timescale? How do you decide whose house gets into the oven first?’

‘Brains has an oven that will take everything so they all get done together. Then about an hour’s drying time, however long to put everything together and then three hours before they can be decorated.’

‘Do you all know what each other is making?’

‘We do.’

Jeff thought back to the daytime show his Ma had got him hooked on (not that he would admit that to anyone).

‘Ready. Set. BAKE!’

He watched with interest as gingerbread was made and rolled out and cut. Jeff couldn’t help but be amazed as dough was shaped around various items to make curves and funnels. He’d purposely not asked what the theme was, wanting to work it out for himself, and at one point seeing one of the boys shaping gingerbread into what looked like a giant but very shallow Bundt tin caused him to really wonder what on earth they were creating.

He followed them all as they marched down to Brains’ lab for baking.

The time taken to bake the pieces was used in designing whatever decorations they wanted before they all made the return journey and brought their creations up. The time needed for the gingerbread to set hard was also spent on making decorations, and it came to no surprise to anyone that by the end of those couple of hours Gordon had a red back of the hand from trying to steal food from Alan’s station.

Alan, it seemed, was taking no prisoners and had a wooden spoon dedicated just for smacking his immediate brother’s hand away. There was obviously some history there, one that came as no surprise to Jeff. His fourth-born son was chaos wrapped in sunshine.

The putting together of the houses gave Jeff pause. As they began to come together he could see that these were like no houses he’d ever seen, but it was clear what was being made pretty quickly. He heart swelled.

At least three hours was going to be needed for the holding time, and it was interesting to see how each had used various equipment to keep their creation stable while it dried. Everyone was banished from the kitchen to the patio, where to Jeff’s surprise lunch had been created and served.

Time had flown by and it was most definitely past noon when they all began a long lunch break. Chatter flowed smoothly, in contrast to the near-absolute quiet in the kitchen, and Jeff listened and laughed at the smack talk he’d have associated with their school years rather than the mature adults they now were, each one convinced that theirs would be the best. He asked questions when he could.

He wasn’t sure how he felt when he was told this was started by Virgil as a way to get Scott to relax and John to come home. How it had grown from just having something familiar for Christmas to a bonding moment. How once they all had been taught to bake it had turned into a competition to see who could best the last year’s offering.

Currently, Scott was winning with John and Alan tied for second place.

Time flew and before he knew it everyone was back in the kitchen to decorate their creations. There was no time limit to this one, and they all took their time to get it right.

But finally, well into the evening, the six gingerbread creations were ready.

The kitchen table had been cleared and the six incredible creations had been placed on it for his judging. Jeff adjusted his crown and walked around the table, his most serious expression on his face.

They had been joined by his Ma, Penny, Parker and Brains, who all sat along the window watching in amusement as Jeff dragged the judging out, making comments on little details and generally creating groans and cheers from his children.

In the end he had made his mind up. It had not been easy, and he once more marvelled at how his boys and Kayo seemed to be able to turn they hands to anything.

‘It has not been easy to judge this competition, what with six highly creative gingerbread houses to choose from.

‘Each one is an absolute representation of its creator. The decorations, coloured to be total matches, how you managed to put the windows in, the curves…I am completely blown away by you all.

‘But only one of you can be the winner, and today it is going to be…’

As expected his two youngest began to tap their thighs in a drum roll while the eldest four rolled their eyes.

‘John.’

Jeff walked across to them, taking the crown off his own head and placing it on John’s. his quietest son blushed deep red as everyone congratulated him before they all gathered around the table.

On the table sat six gingerbread Thunderbirds.

How John had managed to get his station to be so perfectly round…that had explained the Bundt tin…but the icing and the ‘International Rescue’ along the outside had been the tipping factor for Jeff.

They left the ships there to be consumed tomorrow and retired to the living room, where the smell of hot food almost caused a stampede (until Gordon remembered a certain Lady was present). They had bought back from the mainland pizza since everyone had slaved away all day, and it wasn’t long before the only sounds were contented munching.

After everyone had eaten their fill Kayo caught Jeff’s eye and raised an eyebrow. He nodded and she left the room momentarily, bringing the wrapped item the two of them had found last night.

Jeff carefully held the package, a soft smile on his face. Something must have shown, for when he looked up the room was silent and his boys were looking at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat.

‘I thought that, with your permission, we could top the tree with this tonight instead of the star you have.’

Gently, very very gently, Jeff unwrapped the tissue paper until another star appeared. From the sharp intake of breath from his eldest three Jeff could tell they remembered and his smile widened.

In his hands was a star with five points. Each point was a different colour and had the names of each of his sons on the points, with his and Lucy’s names in the middle. The boys had each written their own names on when they had been able to spell them, and the writing was shaky and all different sized letters as only young children did.

Jeff passed it to Scott who took it just as carefully, and he watched with pride as Scott helped Alan to place it on the top of the tree.

They all stood back and looked. There was silence as the tree was contemplated before Scott turned to him

‘It feels like she’s still here, looking after us all, Dad.’

‘Yes, Son, it does.’

‘Merry Christmas, Dad.’

‘Merry Christmas, Scott.’

...

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #tag team secret santa #tag team secret santa 2022

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saintgoths · 2 years ago

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i have an idea ever since you posted ellie and rose, how about a crossover of rose in the TLOU but instead of the magical attributes she has how about her being immune just like ellie? can they have a romantic crush as well please?

anon you have done so much damage to me! i hope i didnt take too long writing this i just wanted a good imagine between the both of them. my asks are still open for imagines until i continue posting chapters of a song of thorns once again!

PECULIAR AFFINITY

WORD COUNT - 2,202

RATING - G [JUST FLUFF, BONDING AND ANGST, ALSO ROSE WINTERS MEETING SOMEONE LIKE HER BUT IN A DIFFERENT UNIVERSE].

It’s been about three weeks since Rose Winters has moved into the society of Jackson and in the start, she hadn’t really found the appeal to hang around with anyone and mostly kept to herself. Aside from her distant state, the girl was conveyed to be kind, respectful and graceful no matter how much she tried to blend in the crowd, her appearance still struck the attention of a specific trio.

Like other members in Jackson, the three observed that she was one to herself, so they didn’t try and bother her, but they wouldn’t have minded it if Rose came up to them in the time period, she felt most comfortable in. Yet, Jesse, who was the only male in the trio, was the one who had the assurance and fortitude to come up to Rose; he always made sure he greeted her during the morning and bid her a goodbye during the night.

Had complimented the fingerless black gloves she would always wear, Jesse would also make a mental note that it was something she never took off, had theorised that maybe Rose thought it went really well with her outfit. Rose normally wore an olive-green jacket with a dark grey dip hoodie beneath, with blue distressed skinny jeans with a pair of white height top sneakers. The girl was never seen without her black baseball cap as well and from time to time she held a notebook that appeared jittery.

Uprightly, it appealed to her appearance, Jesse couldn’t deny that Rose was truly a pretty girl, with her blonde hair and light-coloured eyes, Rose wasn’t an individual you could overlook, as much as she didn’t want to, she stood out.

“Good night, Rose,” Jesse once again welcomed, Rose hadn’t seen Jesse throughout the entire day, and if Rose was being upright, Jesse was the only friend Rose had right now, justly, it was a fault of hers since she didn’t really make the effort to interact with others.

“Hi Jesse,” Rose attentively greeted the tall man, her smile wide and cordial, inquisitive to whatever Jesse had to say. Whenever the two met up, Jesse would usually talk her ear off before they parted ways, Rose actually liked the fact that she didn’t have to be the first one to begin the friendship between her and Jesse, prior, it would usually be her and the bonds wouldn’t last for long.

“There’s a party going on right now, I’d like for you to come,” he genially requested with a generous and noble appearance on his face that restrained Rose to say no.

How could she say no? Jesse had been so kind to her for her to accept the invitation was the least she could do. Although her face expression was unsure, she shrugged her shoulders and arms in approval, “why not.”

Contended, Jesse patted her head, delighted and blithe of her endorsement. “I knew I could count on you!”

Thankful that Jesse didn’t leave Rose’s side when he brought her to where the rest were. Even though majority of them greeted her they carried on to what they were doing before she entered the atmosphere, the ones that were mainly receptive and accessible to Rose were Jesse’s closest friends Ellie and Dina, two gorgeous open-minded women, friendly and communicative. Well, the most communicative one was Dina, Ellie said a couple of words ere she resumed drinking from her plastic cup.

“Oh, by the way this is Ellie’s eighteenth birthday party,” Jesse briskly mentioned with an insightful and impish look on his face while Ellie lightly groaned in comedic disdain for the man.

“My birthday doesn’t really matter, but you two still threw a party anyways,” Ellie muttered, aside from her evident ache of the event, she was still grateful that her friends were thoughtful enough to do this.

Quiet, Rose watched the trio speak and annoy each other, heartfelt, Rose had thought what it would have been like if she was in a friendship group like them.

“Why do you wear those gloves all the time?” Dina curiously questioned, surely not in a manner to make Rose feel uncomfortable, Dina’s stance was more inquisitive to Rose’s rather attachment to the pair of fabric.

It grew hushed between the group and Rose awkwardly looked at her fingerless gloves anteriorly she looked at Dina. “I just like wearing them,” Rose languidly replied, ostensibly not wanting to speak more about them.

The three were keen enough to observe that Rose was put off by Dina’s question, Jesse curved to look at Ellie in hopes to save the graceless conversation. “Ellie, how about you take Rose to get some drinks?”

Able and gaffed, Ellie pushed herself off the tall table prepared to direct Rose to where the beverages were. “I’ll apologise for Dina, she doesn’t mean it in a rude way when she asked about your gloves and all, Dina is a cool person,” Ellie gracelessly atoned during the moment they strolled down the premises.

“It’s okay, I can tell that Dina’s a nice person and she didn’t mean it that way,” Rose briefly glanced down at the pair of fabric that capped majority of Rose’s hands.

“Nice gloves though,” Ellie shortly complimented.

Beholden and contended, Rose graciously simpered at the auburn-haired girl. “Thank you, and happy birthday by the way.”

“Appreciate it,” Ellie genially breathed as she reached for a drink for the blonde-haired girl. When she passed the bottled beverage to Rose, she took another one for herself, the new citizen hummed a thanks before she started to drink the brew, the two women stood in the same spot in comfortable silence, possibly the muteness was there because they didn’t know what to talk about, Ellie had thought it would have been precise if the two had known each other earlier but it could be conveyed that the freckled girl was too shy to make a move considering Rose always seemed like she wanted to be on her own.

“The moment you came into Jackson, I wanted to speak to you but it seemed like you just wanted to be on your own.” Ellie aimlessly mentioned.

Rose courteously smiled. “Well, in the beginning I did want to be left alone, so you got that right.”

Ellie gently laughed through her nose at Rose’s comment, her drink close to her chest while the loud noises of teenagers sprayed the room. Ellie took a brief look at the comers of her surprise birthday party and looked back at Rose with a suggestive look on her face. “Do you want to talk outside?” She neighbourly suggested to the new girl who benevolently beckoned her head in agreement.

Ellie with conviction led Rose outside the building, her tattooed arm hastily caught the attention to the Winters girl, a recognisable imprint and blemish stunning the capped girl, to Rose it was evident that Ellie had tried to use the permanent ink to mask the scar. Yet the imprint was far too detectable for Rose to overlook it.

“We had a bonfire before we went inside,” Ellie gingerly conveyed to the girl as she led Rose to the large logs they could sit on and get comfortable. “Everyone was actually too scared to come up to you when you first came,” Ellie gently laughed as she remembered the comments people would make of Rose, they weren’t negative, the comments were oriented about how unapproachable and mysterious she seemed.

“Well, I didn’t think my resting face was that bad,” Rose replied evidently humoured, “I guess my face was the main thing that stopped me from having friends, I guess.”

Ellie peered at Rose contrite and apologetic. “No, I didn’t mean it like that, you’re not ugly---”

“I know what you mean, don’t worry, Ellie,” Rose giggled at Ellie’s sorrowful demeanour as she placed her thumb over the opening of her bottle and rested her chin against the back of her hand. Thoughtful of the blemish on Ellie’s arm occurred in her head. “For a long time, I’ve always wanted to meet someone who was just like me,” Rose tenderly muttered, somewhat warmly contended that someone shared the same issue as her.

Confused, Ellie gazed at Rose who gently gestured to the tattooed area on Ellie’s skin, immediately caught onto what the new girl implied about, the auburn-haired girl eyes widened, taken aback and surprised. Speechless, Ellie rested on the large log, stunned that she has met someone just like her.

Ellie didn’t know if she should laugh or cry, yet she loudly exhaled in an emotional consolation and release. She covered her face with her free hand during the moment she pulled herself together as Rose watched Ellie gently break down, moreover, the crack Ellie got herself together, she curved to look at Rose who had an understanding expression on her face, comprehensive on how tiring it was to be different and to hide a part of herself from the world. “Where’s your bite?”

As she sat up straight, Rose peered and examined the atmosphere to make sure that no one was there to see them. When the light-haired girl was sure that they were safe, she gently, pulled off the fingerless glove that capped and masked the blemish that was imprinted on the meat of her thumb that spread to her palm. “I got the bite a year ago, when I was sent to look for supplies for the group I was in, it was a Stalker that got me. I was so scared for what was going to happen to me.”

“When I came back with the supplies, I countlessly apologised to the group, I remember my mouth went numb and sore due to the number of times I said I was sorry, looking back at the way I reacted it was quite stupid,” Rose scoffed at herself at reminiscence of the day, “but I think there would’ve been numerous of people who would’ve apologised for being stupid enough to get bitten.”

Saddened by her words, Ellie patiently watched and listened to Rose during the time period she charitably explained about her experience. “Yet, I was sorry for my mother and I was sorry for my already deceased dad who sacrificed so much for me.”

“And what did they do?” Ellie’s voice was gentle but tousled, her face inquisitive and impertinent to Rose’s story.

Rose looked over at Ellie, her smile short but genuine, grateful for what her previous group had suggested for her but also grateful for Ellie’s listening ear. “They said that when they notice me changing they will mercifully kill me, it was the only thing they could do. To protect themselves, their children and all,” Rose sheepishly replied, “and then nothing happened, but the bite was healing, we were all confused, as days progressed, three days, five days, a week, a month, three months, five…” she shook her head mildly surprised she was still here. “But nothing happened.”

“On the other hand, the only thing that changed were that everyone I knew died.”

Rose had mentioned that it was her mother who had knitted fingerless gloves Rose had always worn, the girl had slipped back the mitten to cap her left hand once again whilst Ellie had conveyed, she had somewhat been through the same thing, but in Ellie’s tale, she wasn’t looking for supplies and just wanted to play with her friend Riley for one last time.

“We were in a mall full of infected, I don’t know what we were thinking, but we were living our best lives before everything happened.”

Exchanging the composure and diligence Ellie had shared for her and calmly listened to Ellie’s narrative.

“To watch everyone, you loved die around you because of a bite, and you outliving those who’ve barely lived their life, outliving those who were alive before the infection took over, despite the fact that you have the same infection that killed almost every single person you have known, it gets exhausting, and I feel guilty and remorseful, like I—I don’t deserve to be here.”

“I’m still waiting for my turn,” Rose softly commented, she shared the same guilt and remorse Ellie had felt for years, the same emotions and conscience Ellie had retained.

Ellie tenderly laughed at Rose. “I once said the same thing to someone,” the freckled girl conveyed. “I’m still waiting for it to overtake me.”

“Then together, we should wait it out,” Rose smiled, “grow paranoid due to expecting the infection to take control of us even if it could take decades or more.”

Ellie laughed once more ere she swallowed the liquor from her bottle. Once she finished her sip, she focused on the blonde girl who gently simpered at her behaviour. “I don’t mind waiting out with you, for decades or more.”

Rose’s gracious beam grew in content and of satisfaction of the additional fresh pact she had made with Ellie, moved and enthusiastic about the future experiences she would share with the woman who shared the peculiar affinity with her.

Comfortable in each other’s presence, the two resumed and talked each other’s ears off until they flame from the bonfire finally settled and perished.

thank you to those who have made it to the end! liking, commenting, reblogging or following would be much appreciated! my asks are open for more imagines/oneshots about TLOU characters before i resume posting a song of thorns! i dont mind doing more crossovers but i would happily do it if it involve other characters i know.

magneticsiren

♆

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cabinofimagines · 2 years ago

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Holi-day one; Cabin Competition

I am honoured to be the first one to write for our December fest. I will also be the second and third so please don’t get sick of me to early-

Pairing: PLATONIC Frank, Hazel, Percy x gn!reader (some more are mentioned) Word count: ~800 Warnings: None

- Asnyox

mlist - next ->

As the visitors for the winter holidays started arriving at camp, everyone noted how dull camp was for this time of year. You see, last year there were a lot of decorations around camp in the month of December. However, this year Chiron decided that instead of decorating camp with the year rounders he would make it-

“A camp wide competition!” Chiron announced at the dining hall, “Every cabin gets to decorate their own cabin and an assigned plot in camp! Do take in mind campers that you also have to clean up the decorations after New Year’s Eve. There is an assortment of decorations already distributed…”

As Chiron kept on explaining the rules you looked around at the different tables. Right now you were sitting with some of the visitors of Camp Jupiter, and as you already saw multiple mischievous looks at varying tables around the dining hall you sighed.

“Not happy with the competition?” Frank asked from his spot across from you. “I don’t know if Chiron didn’t realize this but,” you gave Frank a grave look, “I fear this competition is going to get heated.”

───────────

You were right. The first three hours after the start of the competition were seemingly alright, most cabins were very busy with their own cabin. After breakfast, you had quickly taken your visiting friends away from the cabins, wanting to keep the decorations as a surprise for later. Percy had joined you as he opted to simply put a singular Christmas ornament on his door and call it a day, giving his share of Big House decorations to his girlfriend’s cabin.

“I don’t feel like cleaning up any decorations and besides,” Percy smiled as he walked next to you, “I think it’s more fun to see this unfold.”

So, after you spend some wonderful calm moments just hanging around with your friends, you decided to walk slowly back to the cabins. You could already see the mess from far away, a lot of the smaller cabins seemingly teamed up to create the effects they wanted. The Iris, Hypnos and Nemesis had created a gigantic rainbow spanning over the three cabins; however, the colours were ever shifting.

“Is that made out of normal lights?” Frank asked, amazed at the sight and you shook your head. “It’s probably an enchantment.” You pointed at the cabins on the other side, Nike, Tyche, Hebe and Hecate. Besides the garlands that were thrown everywhere, and the semi broken baubles on the floor there was not a lot going on. Laurel and Holly Victor (children of Nike) were yelling at Lou and Alabaster (Children of Hecate). Clovis, child of Hypnos, was asleep a few metres away from them. He was covered in fake snow but snoring soundly.

“My guess is that they tried to also form an alliance,” you stated, and Hazel nodded slowly, “By the way, has anyone seen Jason? I thought he would hang out with us.” In response to your question, Percy pointed upwards, above the Hephaestus cabin. Something that probably was Jason but rather looked like a floating ball of string lights was hovering a few metres above the roof of the cabin. “He is right there,” Percy said, concern in his voice, “I hope that will go alright.”

Your little group finally stepped into the open area between the cabins. Stepped into is sort of a hyperbole, for you couldn’t make it more than three steps in before it was physically impossible for you to go further. There were boxes everywhere, baubles and garlands scattered wherever you could look. There was a gigantic snowman (actually, there were like five, but you did not want to dwell on it).

You heard a loud BANG, however as you all were distracted by all the string lights on the floor, not yet on any cabins, you could not see where it came from.

“THE FIRE WORKS SHERMAN!” yelled Clarisse. You worriedly looked at the Ares cabin, seeing that yes, they indeed had flame throwers for the holiday season. Not only that, but somehow, they had gotten light up barbwire to add to their normal, just spiky barbwire collection.

“It is worse than I thought it would be.” Percy sighed as he looked around. “Now, now, Percy. Sometimes a little chaos will lead to the best decorated houses!”

Percy jumped up at the voice. From the corner of your eye you already spotted the red Christmas hat, giving away the owner of the voice.

“That’s very true, Klaus.” You grinned at the black-haired boy, “Everyone, this is Klaus. He’s a child of Hermes and arrived not too long ago to camp.” Klaus bowed, as he tipped his Christmas hat, showing off his fluffy black hair and elfish ears.

“Lovely to meet you, but I have my cabin to decorate!” Klaus smiled as he ran off, somehow not tripping over any of the stuff on the floor.

#request #requests #xmas 2022 #pjo x reader #reader insert #percy jackson #frank zhang #platonic #x you #admin asja #asja writes #cabinofimagines #coi #admin asnyox

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elizaxspears · 2 years ago

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Ronilliam: Holiday Fluff

Just something for the season! It’s all fluff!

Grell’s thrown this party every year and Ronald’s attended every year. Free drinks and good company? What wasn’t there to love? She went all out with the theme as well, decorating every inch of her flat in reds and silvers which Ronald isn’t surprised by. When red is one of the many colours, of course Grell’s going to go all out.

Some of the people here, Ronald doesn’t know personally. He’s crossed paths with them from time to time but that’s about it. He mostly sticks around Eric and by extension Alan while Grell is off being a good host. It’s all relatively what Ronald came to expect except for one detail. He’s not surprised to see him in the less crowded area of the kitchen, but William’s here, silently sipping from his glass of red wine. He doesn’t look as annoyed as Ronald expected him to be. “Hey, I’m not seeing things, am I? Mr. Spears is actually here?” he asks Eric who’s probably on his fourth glass by now.

“Nope, that’s Spears alright.”

“How the hell did Grell actually get him to be here?”

Eric chuckles, slinging his arm around Ronald’s shoulders. “My guess? Blackmail.”

“Or he came on his own.” says Alan who’s joined them with a small plate from the desert table. “He does have free will, you know.”

“Pretty sure if that was the case, Spears woulda left by now.” Eric counters. “We all know he’s the poster child for alone time.”

Ronald looks past Eric, his eyes locked on William who doesn’t seem to be all that anti-social. Those that have gone up to talk with him aren’t brushed off right away. He swallows at the very prospect of finally getting that time to actually talk with his superior outside of work, to get to know the man behind the reaper. Almost as if he senses that, Eric gently nudges him forward. “Go on Ron. Go talk to him.”

Ronald looks up at the older reaper before nodding to himself. “Yeah. I’m gonna. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck.” Eric grins, plucking a biscuit off Alan’s plate to which the brunette playfully pouts and mentions he can grab his own.

Ronald leaves them be and steals himself before turning on the Knox charm and sliding up next to the man. He’s dressed a little less formally, no tie, waistcoat or gloves, but everything else about him screams ‘professional’. Although, he does smell different. The cologne he usually has at work is a more dark, woody scent with a hint of spice. This one smells almost like cinnamon. “Hey sir! Gotta be honest, didn’t think I’d see you here.”

William slowly sips from his drink, his eyes that had been trained on the more dense crowd outside the kitchen, glide over to him and Ronald sucks in a breath. Those normally cold, harsh eyes actually feel a little softer. “I hadn’t intended to come but I finally ran out of excuses and Sutcliffe cashed in her chip to get me here.”

“What? You owe her?”

“I did, yes. Many years ago she’d saved my life.” he sighs, twirling the maroon liquid in the glass. “That’s the only stain I have on my otherwise perfect record.”

Ronald snickers, sliding just that little closer to William so their arms touch. Either William doesn’t notice or truly doesn’t care Ronald’s put himself into his personal space, because he doesn’t pull away. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

This time William does look at him, one perfect eyebrow curiously arched. “Are you?”

Ronald can only give him a genuine smile as he answers, “yeah. I really am sir.”

“Might I ask why?”

Ronald tries to play coy, giving an offhanded shrug. “Who wouldn’t be happy about Mr. Spears being here?”

William lets his eyes trail over the party once again. “Normally, I would say many but I would seem to be proven wrong.”

“Yeah. You are.”

William falls silent for long enough that Ronald thinks that’s maybe a subtle que for him to leave but then William speaks again, “but, and forgive me if I’m being too presumptuous, you most of all?”

Ronald feels heat rise to his cheeks but he doesn’t shy away. Instead, he turns to meet William’s eyes. “No, you’re right. I’m really glad you’re here. I’ve been…really wanting to talk to ya for a long time now, just, y’know, could never find the right time to do it.”

William fully turns to him now, giving Ronald his full attention. “Have you?”

Ronald straightens his back, knowing it was now or never. “Yeah.” he takes a deep breath. “I’ve been trying to find the right way to say this or how to get you alone to tell you this so you wouldn't think I’m tryin’ to suck up for brownie points, but, I really like you Mr. Spears and…and I was kinda hoping that maybe, you’d wanna go out with me some time? Dinner and a movie maybe? You’re kinda old, so I was thinking you’d like the old cliche?”

William looks at him as if he’s offended by the old comment but thankfully, the man does have a sense of humour as a small smile spreads over his lips. “Oh really? Must I remind you of what year it is and the year you were born?”

“You’re still older than me in human years!” he playfully nudges William’s side. “You’re lucky I like older men though.”

“I wasn’t aware you liked men at all.”

“I mean, I kinda stopped liking everyone except you.” he shrugs again. “But uh, yeah. Just wanted to tell you that and let you know the offers open if you ever wanted to take me up on it. So, I’m gonna go and find Eric, y’know, make sure Alan still has the patience to deal with–”

“I would like that very much.”

Ronald blinks, letting those words sink in before staring wide eyed at his superior. That soft gaze is solely on him and it makes him feel warm inside. “R-Really…?”

William actually laughs, but it’s soft and quiet, a sound Ronald wants to hear again and again. “Yes, Ronald.” he suddenly looks unsure of himself, draining what’s left of his wine. “I’ve fancied you for quite sometime but for obvious reasons, I never tried to pursue a relationship with you. Thus, when you asked me to dinner and a movie, it honestly sounded too good to be true or that someone put you up to it.” that strange nervousness leaves him as he looks Ronald back in the eyes. “But you sounded too genuine for me to believe otherwise.”

Ronald can’t help the ear to ear smile that spreads on his face. He reaches out and takes William’s hand, feeling the surprising warmth that seeps from William’s skin into his own. “I mean it.” he tugs at his hand, trying to lead him from the kitchen. “And for starters, I wanna get you outta this kitchen and socialising. Alan’ll be there as a crutch if Eric decides to be, well, Eric.”

“I have no doubts about that.”

Yet as Ronald begins to pull William from the room, Grell suddenly stands in front of them, hands on her hips and looking almost offended. “Excuse me!” she points up. “Do you two really think I’m going to let you escape without the traditional kiss under the mistletoe?”

Both of them follow her finger, surprised when they do indeed see the hanging ornament. Neither recalled it being there when they entered the kitchen but it’s there clear as day now. “Awe c’mon Grell! Do we gotta?”

“It’s tradition!” though she suddenly flutters her lashes at William, “and if you won’t, I’ll gladly take your place.” Ronald wants to protest a little more, not sure how comfortable William would be with it but to his further surprise, William’s hand is cupping his cheek and gently turning his head toward him. Before he can even utter his next question, William’s lips are on his and it feels like fireworks are exploding in his chest. They're soft and warm and just how imagined they’d be.

As William pulls back, Ronald snaps out of his trance and yanks William back in for another kiss; a proper kiss. One he’s eager to return. His hands clutch into William’s shirt and William’s other hand on his cheek holds him in place until they both finally break apart and Ronald’s vibrating on the spot. William’s thumb gently strokes over his skin and there’s that smile on his lips, the one Ronald wants to commit to memory. It’s soft, it’s warm, it’s genuine. It’s William. “Happy holidays, Ronald.” William whispers to him, pressing his lips back to Ronald’s for another, even sweeter kiss.

“Happy holidays, Will.” Ronald replies when he can, refusing to let William go.

Grell eventually ushers them out from the under the mistletoe but that doesn’t stop Ronald from wrapping his arms around William’s and clinging to him for the rest of the night and for every night onward.

#ronilliam #ronald knox #william t. spears #william t spears #black butler #kuroshitsuji

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gay-dorito-dust · 3 years ago

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Deadly nightshade

Idea by @aestheticpisces

A/n: don’t ask why I called this fic ‘deadly nightshade’ I just did cuz I couldn’t think of anything original and deadly nightshade is normally known for it’s poisonous effects so I decided to equate loosing Steven to ingesting deadly nightshade. Painful.

A/n/n: this was shit near the end I’m sorry.

You were sat there long after Harrow has gotten what he wanted, you however didn’t have the strength. Not when you had just witnessed the other half of your soul getting shot before your eyes; you had to restrain yourself from screaming in fear that either you or Layla would become the next dead body to float besides his. You didn’t know what to do, the loss weighed too heavily on your shoulders yet it was Layla who found the strength to keep going while as you could only crawl towards his body as though you regressed to an infantile state until you were knee deep in blood coloured waters; bringing his body into your arms, ignoring the quickly dampening fabric of your clothes the more you brought him closer to rest his head against your chest. You didn’t flinch at the cold that bite into your skin because you too felt as though you had died then and there.

You ran your hand through his drenched hair, pushing away the strands that clung to his skin as you pressed your forehead against his colder one, praying to feel an ounce of warmth within the vast sea of rigid cold for you to savour, nurture and grow. Yet nothing. It was only a matter of minutes but to you it felt longer, drawn out to excruciatingly painful extents that you sometimes wonder if it was still on going without you being aware of it. “I don’t know if you can hear me but,” you ran your tongue along the dry skin of your bottom lip, fighting back the tightness within your throat as you tried to get a word out without breaking down into a riven of tears. “But please wake up, this isn’t funny. It’s actually quite mean and I don’t like it.” Your vision blurred with unshed tears as you reached a hand to weekly tap his cheek three times, something you always did whenever you wanted Steven’s attention or whenever he was on the brink of falling asleep at work and Donna was nearby. Your mind, body and soul refused to accept that he was gone. That he was taken from you permanently in the worst possible way, instead believing that everything so far has been nothing but a bad dream or a horrific and elaborate prank should he awake and scream ‘surprise.’

Not even that happened. What did however was you mustering the inner strength to drag him out of the watery depths, muttering under your breath of how he’ll catch a cold even though that wasn’t going to be a concern if he was already dead. His face looked between peaceful and pained. You thought to yourself as you eyed his face the best you could through teary vision; His brows were furrowed as though bracing for impact while the rest of him seemed relaxed as though he’s been waiting for this for a long while. Which ever one it was you didn’t know as your mind was searching desperately for ways to cope with the loss in a way that didn’t break you that wouldn’t leave you psychologically scared. The silence was a quiet beyond quiet almost as though you could hear your own thoughts, your breathing, everything from the sounds of sloshing water to the sounds of droplets falling from the fabric of your clothes and onto the floor; Or that could’ve been your tears but you were too numb to tell the difference anymore because nothing mattered anymore and all you wanted to do was lay down beside him and wait for the worse to come so you could join him soon enough. Yet decided against it for squeezing his hand in hopes for a squeeze, a finger twitching, any reaction you could get would be much appreciated. Again, nothing happened.

You took your gaze off of him and instead decided to look towards the decorative ceiling in an almost prayer, “I don’t know whoever is listening but i would really like Marc and Steven back, I’d do anything to have them back but I can’t for I am a mortal and not a deity of omnipotent power. I swear if I was one i would give up everything if it meant getting the man I love and my friends ex-husband back to us. Just give me a sign-“ vigorous coughing cut you off as Marc sat up within your arms, attempting to regain his breath as he looked down as his chest where two matching wounds that should’ve greeted him seemed to have disappeared miraculously. Before he could make sense of it all you brought him tightly against you, gripping at his clothes desperately to make sure he was real beneath your touch that you swore your knuckles were burning with the same need to feel his warmth as you were. “Oh my goodness! Your okay! Your okay! Your okay!” You cried, pulling back to hold Marc’s face in your hands as he started back at you with a sense of melancholy. His eyes looked into you as though he could see your every emotion, your every feeling you’ve ever felt. The smile faltered from your face when you noticed how tightly he was clenching his jaw and the prolonged periods of time where he’d kept his eyes closed as though he was holding back tears of his own.

“Marc, where’s Steven.” Marc inhaled sharply at his alters name as though pained, he grasped your hands in his as he brought them closer to his face so that his face was partially covered; when you were just about to ask why he was hiding and why he was avoiding the question until you felt tears dropping into your hands. They started as little trickles before becoming full blown sobbing that had your heart breaking for the mercenary. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry y/n but…Steven. He…he…” Marc couldn’t finish his sentence as he finds himself hysterically crying into you hands once more. He felt as though he failed you, failed Steven, failing everyone who had ever put even an ounce trust in him. You were probably expecting him to bring Steven back with him but he couldn’t even do that and he HATED himself for it. He couldn’t do anything right, everything he touched eventually dies, he didn’t want you to be the next victim in promise to Steven. God that idiotic dork, having more bravery then Marc ever did in that moment that he couldn’t help but remember that moment fondly but that didn’t last long when he remembered what Steven last said to him besides his name. ‘Take care of y/n for me. Okay?’ His words haunted him all they way back to the realm of the living. He couldn’t even look you in the eye and tell you that the man you were dating was no longer present. That he had valiantly sacrificed himself for Marc’s sake.

“It’s all my fault.” As if you heart couldn’t break anymore just hearing his voice crack beneath the weight he placed upon his shoulders. You had an inkling that there was a reason Marc was the way he was but never asked for it wasn’t your place to ask such personal questions. Yet it must’ve been a cold day in hell if Marc Spector was crying into your hands, relieving himself of the pent up emotions he’s had since god knows when and you knew for a fact it wasn’t healthy. “No, Marc Spector, you’re wrong. You’re not at fault here, you never were.” Your voice, now strong and powerful made the ex-mercenary lift his head to look you in the eyes. “Whatever happened wherever you were it wasn’t you fault for any of it. Steven wouldn’t blame you and I wouldn’t either because I could tell you’ve been through so much shit Marc and came out more harmed then healed. I didn’t get it at first but now I understand why you wanted to keep Steven away from all this,” you waved a hand towards the room you were in with a weak chuckle, “I didn’t appreciate you as much as I should’ve for doing what you were doing. You didn’t have to protect Steven but you did and I could never thank you for that. I don’t think I could ever repay you even if I could, I wouldn’t know where to start.” You wiped away the tears that started to collect at the corner of Marc’s eyes, “I thank you for protecting Steven till the bitter end Marc.” Marc felt tears prickle his eyes when he listened to your every word, waiting for something backhanded to come up but instead found nothing but pure honesty. “Then why do I feel like a failure?” He asked, voiced broken with raw emotions that left him gasping for words to express them within.

You felt tears stream down your cheeks at the revelation that Marc never viewed himself as worthy or as good of a person. Not even once and probably not even during his childhood either. So you grasped his shoulders and brought him into a tight hug, feeling him tightly hug you back as equally as tight while he cried into your shoulder chanting ‘I’m sorry’ under his breath over and over again. “Never say your sorry unless it’s worth apologising for.” You said as you rubbed Marc’s back soothingly, “Steven wouldn’t want you blaming yourself for things out of your control and I don’t want you continuing to think your inherently bad for not being able to save everybody because that’s an unrealistic expectation to put upon someone. And for the record, I think your doing amazing. Your doing amazing Marc and I know Steven thinks that too.” Marc didn’t say much other then squeeze you tightly in his arms as you both sat there in each other’s company in relative silence as you both mourned for the loss of an amazing person.

Without meaning to you began to giggle which made Marc draw back from you as he stared at you as though you had two heads, cocking s brow he asks, “what’re you giggle away about?” You only smiled wider at the memory, “remembering the time Steven chased off a flock of birds in defence of my chips.” Marc couldn’t help but smirk at the visual of Steven giving a pigeon a strict talking to as to why they shouldn’t take your chips as you were standing idly by trying not to laugh. Steven was certainly a character Marc had to admit but a strong character indeed if that goof managed to snag you up with his dork like attributes and interests. He has told Steven how lucky he was to be with someone like you and he hadn’t regret a single word of it as he watched you treasure the memories of him with love and affection that spilled every time you talked anything in relation to Steven. You were defiantly a keeper in Marc’s eyes…if only Steven was here to share the moment with you…”what happened afterwards?” The mercenary asked even though he had already saw this memory and how flustered Steven was when reliving it but loved to get your perspective on it as well. “Steven tripped over his shoelaces and the birds gunned for his chips instead. So out of the kindness of my heart I offered some of my chips to him and knowing Steven he refused, refused, refused but I told him ‘I’m not letting you go without something to eat so eat’ before shoving some of my chips in my polystyrene container.” You both burst out laughing, trying your hardest not to combust on the spot when sharing your favourite memories with Steven to Marc im that you almost forgot that you were meant to take down a cult leader and his cult. Almost.

#moon knight imagine #moon knight imagines #moon knight x reader #moonknight x you #moonknight x reader #moonknight imagine #moonknight imagines #steven grant x you #steven grant imagine #steven grant imagines #marc spector x reader #Marc Spector imagines #Marc Spector imagine

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finelinevogue · 3 years ago

Note

for tour content, maybe you could do an imagine that’s like a series of small moments like little interactions on stage or picking tour outfits or nights in the tour bus/airplane ! just little domestic things <3

i’m going to do this because i have so many weird ideas and just no way of putting them all together ! ;

Grilled Cheese Conversations

The tour bus smelt like it was on fire.

You had been sitting in the living room with Harry for a couple of hours, both of you just skimming through photos from the Met Gala together - judging obviously, before Harry announced he wanted to make himself some food and so left for the kitchen.

He’d been in there for 45 minutes now and the smells that were diffusing from their smelt bloody awful. Harry could cook really extravagant foods, like caviar and lobster, but when it came to something as simple as making a sandwich he was absolutely terrible for some reason. The point was proven when he walked back into the room with a burnt coal looking sandwich.

“What, is that?” You laughed, still sitting with your phone in your hand and waiting for him to come back so you could continue judging these Met outfits together.

“It’s a grilled cheese sandwich?” He spoke as if you were dumb and you should have known that instantly. He walked over to you, sitting down next to you and resting the plate on the table in front of him.

“No, that’s a piece of char.” You raised your eyebrows disapprovingly and watched as he scowled at you for being mean to his culinary skills.

“Well i’m sure it’ll taste great.” He looked smug, up until he took a bite from the cheesy melted - burnt - bread. As soon as the food touched his tongue he was quick to spit it back out again, you groaning in disgust. He pushed the plate away and looked at it in anger. “45 bloody minutes and it tastes of burnt wood.”

“I’m not even going to ask why you know that.” You raised your hands and laughed, watching as he turned to scowl at you again. He had quite the angry face when he wanted to. “Sorry, alright! Do you want me to go make you one?” You asked, sitting up to go and make him one if he wanted.

Harry pulled you into his lap so you were sat with your back to his front, his arms looping around your waist tightly to keep you with him. His chin rested on your shoulder and he kissed your cheek because he could. “No. Stay w’me.” He got all cuddly and soft and you loved it when Harry was like this. He was like a life-size version of your stuffed teddy bear you used to sleep with at night - all cute and cuddly.

“Okay, okay.” You calmed him when he thought you were just going to get up and go. “Let’s judge some people again.” You pulled out your phone and opened it to a twitter account which had posted all of them.

“Where did we get up to?” Harry asked, fiddling with the skin on your stomach as his hands snaked beneath your hoodie.

“Um, Kim K.” You clicked on the image of her and tried to hold back the laugh. It was a dreadful outfit and highly meme worthy, so you’ve heard.

“Well…” Harry sighed, reaching his own hand to swipe seeing as he didn’t have anything more to say on this particular one.

“Billie looked beautiful.” You smiled as Billie’s huge dress came on display, looking a fluffy pink marshmallow dream. She looked very Monroe with her makeup and you were always so shocked when people told you her age, because she looked so mature.

“She must’ve taken inspiration from Marilyn Monroe.” Harry added, nodding in approval of Billie’s outfit.

“More so than bloody Addison Rae.” You laughed, thinking about how far that had been from the truth.

“Addison who?” Harry asked and it made you smile and turn your head around to look at him. He looked down at you, noticing the cheeky glint in your eyes and couldn’t help but steal a glance at your beautiful lips.

“This is why I love you.” You sighed happily and gave him a kiss on the lips, cupping his cheek to direct him better. You were only going for a peck, but Harry made it that you got the full taste of him and kissed you for a minute longer. He felt perfect against you and you really did just simply love him.

“Yeah,” Harry broke from the kiss for a brief moment to tell you something important, “and I love you.”

••••

All Things Sparkles

It was an hour before the Dallas show and Harry was getting ready for another big show.

Dallas were known for being crazy and you were so excited for the energy they’d bring for Harry tonight. Harry always enjoyed the shows more when the crowd was actually ecstatic to be there and he knew Dallas wouldn’t let him down.

He was putting on his silk trousers, Lambert just to the side as he was ironing the shirt to get rid of all its crinkles. Your Harry currently looked so funny in his Gucci silk trousers, his bright yellow socks with bananas all over them, his suspenders hanging down by his sides and no shirt on as of yet. It was the socks that really pieced everything together. He had just had his hair and makeup done, just needing to get dressed before he was completely ready.

He was really glowing tonight. It made you happy to see him like this.

You were watching him through the vanity mirror as you touched up your own makeup, adding highlighter to the areas you wanted to shine a little brighter. You also started adding some gems around your eyes, wanting to be a bit different tonight along with your glittery eye shadow that you didn’t normally do. You were glueing your gems when you felt your boyfriends presence behind you, the heat of his bare chest radiating against the skin of your back.

“You look stunning, m’love.” You looked up through the vanity to catch his gaze, he smiled and you smiled back.

“Thank you. Not too bad looking y’self.” You cheekily replied, motioning towards his bare chest. “Are y’going to be keeping that out all night?” You asked, being hopeful that he would, because fuck it was hot, but also wouldn’t, because you wanted this part of him all to yourself.

“You’d like that wouldn’t y’yeah.” He squinted his eyes at you and nodded, a clear sign that no his tits were not going to be out for Dallas. “Up.” He spoke, lifting you up from under your armpits and walking around the chair so that he could sit down himself. He plonked you right back on top of his lap and watched as you leant forwards to add another gem to the corner of your eye.

“Y’putting me off.” You whined, your ass leaning right back onto the hard of his cock. He couldn’t keep soft around you, that was his kryptonite.

“Oh i’m sorry. It’s not like m’girlfriend is just sitting there looking ridiculously beautiful and yet so innocent.” He leaned forwards to whisper the rest of his words, because they were only for you. “Just look so fuckable right now.”

You had to bite your tongue from turning around and shoving it down his throat, because god did his words make you want to jump his bones. “Shut up, before y’get us both in trouble.” You wiggled your ass back over his cock as you sat back to admire the work of the gems brightening up around your eyes.

“Then stop being a fuckin’ tease.” He grabbed your hips and stopped your from moving anymore. You just smiled and put the lid back on the glue before it went everywhere, especially over Harry’s expensive clothing - even the banana socks were £17.

You looked at him through the mirror to find him already looking at you. You blushed quietly as you watched him take in your beauty. It was quite hard to get over just how ethereal he looked tonight and it made you so feral knowing he was all yours and only yours. Looking down at the gems you got an idea.

“Do y’want me to put some gems on y’too?” You asked, pointing to the ones around your eyes and thinking that he’d looked even prettier with some around his.

“Only if i’m matching w’you yeah.” Harry nodded excitedly. You got up from the chair and swizzled yourself around until you were sat back on his lap, only this time straddling him. You were so close to him now that it was getting ridiculously harder to stop yourself from taking him here and now. You leant down, instead, and gave him a lasting kiss on the skin covering his heart. Your lips lingered there for a moment, before you moved back up to see him already staring down. He smiled when he saw the stain of your lipstick printed over where his heart beat. “I proper love you, Y/N.” He smiled and cupped your chin in his fingers to bring your lips to him.

“No!” Lambert shouted, making you two pause. “You two’ll never stop if you start, so don’t start until after the bloody show.” He rolled his eyes and continued with his ironing, making you and Harry chuckle feeling like high-school kids.

“Okay, now stay still.” You spoke as you glued the first gem and held it steady against the corner of his eye. He wanted to keep his eyes open to keep looking at you, because that’s all he ever wanted to do, but you instructed him to close them just to be on the safer side. It went on easy, sticking to the outer corner of his eye, in a soft white colour that matched his trousers. Yours were the same creamy white colour to match the colour of your dress.

“Do I look pretty yet?” Harry asked rhetorically, but you replied anyways.

“Y’look pretty always.” You kissed the top of his nose whilst you glued the other gem. He closed his eyes as you told him to, but he still smiled at your words. You concentrated as you stuck the gem to the corner of the other eye and sat back to make sure they were even. Harry opened his eyes to see you making sure they looked good. “S’perfect.”

“Like you then.” He hummed in appreciation of you.

“Let’s see then.” Lambert asked, making you both turn in the chair to face him and you readjusting yourself so you were sat back against his chest. “Oh yes! Okay this is photo worthy.” Lambert took out his phone and held it up to face you both, making sure you could see the gems.

“I don’t even have a shirt on!” Harry exclaimed, but held you close anyways as you smiled for the photos and his words making you belly laugh. You posed more seriously for a few and then took a few silly ones to. Your favourite one, though, was one where you were laughing so happily and Harry was looking at you and smiling in awe over you.

He set it as his lock screen. You set it as yours. It would stay that way until your new favourite photos became your wedding day photos.

••••

Sign Of The Times

Tonight was the first Love on Tour show you were attending, only having missed opening night in Las Vegas.

Harry knew that you were coming, but you’d told him to source you out within the crowds because you wanted a full fan experience. You’d gotten the all-clear from Harry’s security, allowing your from backstage and straight through into the cherry pit. You had your lanyard and your sign ready, as fans started to pile in. You were originally going to go straight to the barricade, but you thought the fans deserved that more than you so you hung back and stayed the ends of the crowds.

A few fans spotted you and came up to asking for photos, so you did. Posing with your mask on was weird because you still smiled underneath the mask even though it wouldn’t be seen in the photo. Some fans asked whether they could stay and dance with you ask night to which you were so happy for, because dancing alone would’ve been embarrassing even for you.

The intro for golden started and the crowds were deafening, but all you could think about was your boyfriend and his challenge to spot you within the crowds. Golden and Carolina came and went, you dancing like a crazed fan along with all your new friends. Everyone was so happy and some were even crying tears of joy.

There was just love, love, love, everywhere.

Harry came to his first pause and took a quick drink since he was already quite hot and the altitude in Denver was crazy.

“Good evening Denver!” He shouted into the mic, waiting for the screams of his fans to uproar and then settle before speaking on, “The altitude is crazy here. I’ve barely done anything and I can’t breathe!” He spoke, making you slightly anxious for him but you knew he would be okay because he had an oxygen tank on stage. “Now, m’girlfriend is somewhere here tonight and i’ve gotta find Y/N before I lose the challenge.”

The fans around you started screaming that you were here and the message kept on getting passed down the crowds until they reached the front. Harry was walking around your side of the stage until he met the fans at the front saying that you were behind them. Harry held his hand over his eyes to help him find you better and you held up your sign to help him. Your sign had taken you all of 5 minutes to doodle, but the message was clear;

“I want a kiss from the one in suspenders.”

“There y’are.” He laughed when he saw your sign, dropping his mic and leaning over himself to catch his breathe from the belly laugh that he just let out. You smiled when you saw him laugh, the fans around you screaming and thanking you for making him be this way. Harry stood up and looked at you, messing with his earpiece so he could hear the arena better.

“Kiss me!” You shouted and the people around you were also shouting for him to kiss you. Even with masks on Harry could clearly understand the message.

“I wanna kiss you but I can’t!” He spoke through his mic and his voice echoed throughout the arena, making everyone scream and you simply blush. You knew he couldn’t come and just give you a kiss, it would be too dangerous, but he sent you loads of blown kisses instead and you kept them all. You sent your own back and he stuffed them all in his back pocket, before moving on to his next song before he got told off.

“Damn, he really loved you.” One of your new fans friends says next to you and all you could think was; yeah, yeah he does.

••••

My Only Angel*

For four hours he had been gone.

Four hours since he was in this hotel room with you. Four hours since you had first started acting like a brat. Four hours since he’d gotten fed up of our attitude and tied you up and left a vibrator pulsing against your clit. Four hours since your first orgasm, four minutes since your last.

The whole time Harry had been on stage, all he could think about was you being bound tight in his hotel room and dripping wet from the number of orgasms you would’ve had. He knew you’d never be able to hold yourself for four hours, so he didn’t say you couldn’t cum only he forgot to mention that the number of times that you did cum would be the number of times he denied you later on in the evening. Harry had gotten especially hard performing Only Angel, because that was your song that he’d written for you and then fucked you countless times to. Fans noticed, but put it down to the adrenaline of being onstage rather than the thought of his girlfriend being tied up and overstimulated back in his hotel room.

You just came down from the high of another orgasm when Harry walked through the door. You sighed when you saw him, thinking this would finally be it and he’d let you go free now you’ve suffered your punishment. That was wishful thinking, however.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there.” Harry pretended, wanting to tease you as much as possible, as he walked past you and hung his jacket on the back of a chair.

“H-harry.” You sighed, squeezing your eyes when you moved and felt the vibrator hit and new and exciting angle. You moaned quietly and had to suppress the embarrassing cries you wanted to let out.

“Yes?” Harry moved so he was standing at the edge of the bed, undoing the buttons on his shirt one-by-one. He looked so hot with his sleeves rolled and the suspenders already dropped down to his sides.

“I-I please s-st- enough.” You whimpered, pulling on the restraints to try and stop it yourself but you’d already tried that one too many times and nothing has come of it.

Your wrists were slightly red and bruised from all the tugging you’d been doing and Harry noticed that as he peeled away his shirt from his body. He threw the silk shirt somewhere else in the room and walked over to the right side of the bed, sitting down to get a closer look at your wrists. He leant down to give it a gentle rub and a kiss. You sighed in delight at the feeling of his cool lips burn against your flaming skin. Harry sat up and tilted your face to the side so you could face him, slight tears in your eyes. He looked at you for a few moments, taking in the shear beauty of you and your glorious body, before making sure you were alright.

“What’s your colour, baby?” He asked you gently, stroking your cheek and then running his thumb along your bottom lip with a soft pull.

“G-green.” You nodded and he smiled, leaning in to kiss you on your desperate lips. You basked in the taste of him, closing your eyes like you needed to save this moment to memory forever. You loved him like this, when he was dominant with you. He let you be submissive like you wanted to be.

“That’s my good girl.” He leaned back from you and moved onto the bed more, straddling your bare body. The silk of his pants felt erotic against your hot skin and you moaned at the dreamy sensation. He ran his large, ringed, hands up and down your body, feeling every curve and crevice. He massaged your boobs lightly in his hands, up and down your stomach and to your inner thighs behind him. You hummed at the feeling, gasping when Harry finally turned off the vibrator and moved it away from you. You felt lighter from freedom all of a sudden.

“T-hank you.” You breathed out, opening your eyes to meet his electric green ones. Wow, he looked beautiful - still slightly sweaty and hot from his concert.

“Don’t thank me yet, angel.” He grinned as he took down his trousers and pants, pushing them to the floor with his foot.

He didn’t even wait for you to register what was going on before he slipped himself inside of you. You loved the feeling so greatly, but your clit was still so sensitive. You shuddered as he picked up his pace and thrusted into you harder and harder, faster and faster. The sound of his skin slapping against yours, made you arch your back and your toes curl and then feeling if him so deep inside of you was enough to make you cum already, again.

“Feel s-so good.” You looked at him and saw the desire within his eyes. He was so full of lust right now, because the sight of you tied up with him pounding into you is better than simply imagining it. Nothing could feel more euphoric than this, both of you were sure of that.

“Yeah? Feel me all around you? So perfect f’me. M’beautiful angel.” Harry moaned out, cupping one of his hands around your throat and pushing you deeper into the mattress, whilst his other hand went to cup your breasts and give them the devotion they deserved.

Everything felt everywhere.

His rocks became sloppier as he reached his high, yours approaching much sooner than you thought it would. You were surprised you actually had anything left in you. His cock hit a spot inside of you that made you scream out and he felt you collapse around him all at once, causing his own release to quickly follow. He continued to fuck you through your release and bent himself over to press his lips to yours. He felt and tasted amazing, you couldn’t get enough. It would never be enough.

“Love you so much.” You spoke the best you could and Harry released his hand from your throat, leaning down to kiss it softly. He reached over to your hands to untie them afterwards, giving them both a few kisses over your wrists when he saw the harsh marks. Your arms were so tired that they just fell to your sides, but Harry kept on touching you softly; stroking your messy hair away from your face and caressing your cheek softly as if he hadn’t just fucked you raw. He kept his face close to you as he whispered the words that would stay imprinted on your heart forever.

“I love you, Y/N.”

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