#like how you want me to have pigmented eye shadow but think putting a white base takes too long | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pesterloglog · 10 months

Text

John Egbert, Vriska Serket

Act 5, page 3905-3919

GT: so.

GT: it seems that you are, in fact, an alien. with horns and everything.

GT: huh.

AG: Yes, John. Horns and all. That totally proves I am an alien 8eyond a shadow of a dou8t!

AG: Now what do you make of these 8lank white eyes of mine? What do you think THAT could mean, hmmmmmmmm?

GT: i don't know. aliens usually have big spooky eyes, don't they?

AG: Humans have literally the dum8est extraterrestrial lore. Weren't those supposed to 8e aliens on one of your posters?

GT: haha, you mean mac and me? yeah, even i can admit that movie was indefensible.

AG: Well if you want to know, normally, we have 8right orange eyes, with gray irises. They fill in with our 8lood pigment as we get older.

AG: Also, normally I have this one goofy eye with seven pupils 8ecause I'm kind of a weirdo. 8ut I guess that's gone now that I'm dead.

AG: Not that you 8elieve me, 8ecause you just refuse to remem8er anything.

GT: i can accept that you are an alien, but come on. meeting an alien who is also a GHOST in my front yard is a bit much to believe.

GT: it is almost too awesome.

AG: So you don't remem8er anything a8out the game at all, then? The destruction of your planet? 8ringing your ancestor 8ack to life as a clown woman?

AG: Putting a huge flaming ocean out with your magical wind? Jack Noir? Dying, resurrecting, and possi8ly dying again? Is any of this tickling your sponge?

GT: hmm...

GT: nope. sounds cool though.

AG: Fuck, I cannot 8elieeeeeeeeve how cold it is on this planet. How can any species possi8ly 8e a8le to survive somewhere like this?

GT: yeah, i thought you looked pretty cold out here.

GT: so i brought you this jacket.

AG: Oh.

AG: Ok.

GT: hey, your clothes switched suddenly.

GT: was that some kind of alien wardrobe warpifying technology?

GT: such as a warpdrobe, if you will?

AG: Sure, John. Let's just say that's what it was.

GT: you look pretty cool in more normal clothes. not that your space boots and pixie outfit weren't neat.

AG: Thanks.

AG: So, is this how humans 8egin an earth d8?

AG: With simple acts of flattery and kindness?

GT: um, i don't know about that, really.

GT: it just seemed like the nice thing to do.

GT: is...

GT: is this a date?

AG: No. I've decided this definitely will not 8e a d8.

AG: Not until you remem8er something, at least.

GT: ok, that's probably for the best.

GT: i would probably be pretty nervous on a date with a normal girl, let alone on a...

GT: DATE WITH AN ALIEN SPACE GHOST!!!

GT: heheheheheheh.

AG: Now that you mention it, me too, pro8a8ly. Your goofy awkwardness is a 8it contagious, frankly.

AG: So now what do we do?

GT: well...

GT: since i am presuming you are new to the planet...

GT: i could show you around the place.

GT: this is my green slime ghost pogo ride, in all its glory.

GT: in my childhood, it was hours of fun, and hundreds of painful injuries.

AG: Hey........

AG: This thing isn't slimy at all! What the hell.

GT: nope.

AG: I've noticed humans don't seem to keep any slime around the hive. And yet you are strangely cavalier a8out your open display of certain........ receptacles.

AG: What's the deal with that? Is it that you're just that ashamed of your secretions as a species?

GT: um.

GT: not... really?

GT: humans just don't really have much use for slime, i guess.

GT: honestly, i can't think of a single practical use for slime, other than to be gross!

AG: So 8izarre.

GT: anyway, this thing is kind of a death trap, and i haven't ridden it for years.

GT: i think my dad had it installed as one of his ridiculous ways of making a man out of me.

AG: Sure.

AG: My custodian had her ways of making me tougher too.

GT: yeah.

GT: parents, right? haha.

GT: anyway, that's my back yard. pretty damn boring, sorry.

GT: i would show you inside, but i don't think my dad would take too kindly to bringing an alien inside.

GT: or, just yet. i would need to brace him for it.

AG: That's fine.

AG: What else can you show me?

GT: i could show you around my neighborhood, if you want.

AG: Sounds gr8.

GT: these are my neighbors, who live in a lot of same looking houses as mine.

GT: i never see them. i think they're all really busy people with a lot of serious business to attend to.

GT: hey, look.

GT: the snow is melted over here.

GT: it's really warm suddenly. weird.

AG: Does your planet usually have these kind of temper8ture swings?

GT: no, this is pretty unusual december weather.

GT: guess i'll take my coat off.

GT: i can take yours back, if you want.

AG: No thanks. I think I'll keep it on.

GT: there is not really much to see in this town...

GT: but there are these lakes.

GT: this lake here did not used to be a lake. a long time ago, before i was born, there was a factory here.

GT: my dad says there was a huge explosion. he was walking by with my nanna when he saw it.

GT: then a little later, my nanna died. my dad never told me how, except that it involved a big joke book.

GT: i never knew her, which is too bad. she sounded nice.

AG: I know what happened.

AG: I saw it.

GT: you did?

AG: Yes.

AG: Do you want to know?

AG: It might jostle your memory.

GT: ok!

AG: I 8elieve this lake is where Jade landed. You landed a little ways over there, a8out where your hive is now. You clo88ered your nanna to death with the aforementioned joke 8ook. 8ut it wasn't your fault. You were 8oth just little wigglers, riding meteors from the future.

AG: You cre8ted yourself, your nanna, Jade, her grandpa, not to mention Dave and Rose and their guardians, all in a la8 using paradox slime, and sent them 8ack in time as the silly gru8s with arms and legs you call 8a8ies. And here you were dou8ting the usefulness of slime!

GT: wow, really?

AG: Yes, a8solutely.

AG: I paid close attention to all this, 8ecause I thought it might give me some clues a8out us and our ancestors, who were made the same way.

AG: Any of this familiar?

GT: hmm.

GT: that all sounds incredible if true, but i don't have even the foggiest memory of that happening!

AG: Yeah. I figured as much.

AG: Since you seem 8ent on staying in your dream 8u88le coma, why don't I continue the tour?

GT: the tour... of earth?

AG: Sort of.

GT: what's happening?

AG: We are going on an adventure.

GT: where?

AG: Through your memories.

AG: Through mine too.

AG: This would 8e a really fun thing to do on a d8, I think!

AG: If we actually were on a d8, which we're not.

GT: how is this happening?

GT: is this through the advanced alien technologies?

GT: like holograms, or teleportations?

AG: If that's what you want to think to keep you comfy in your stupor, sure.

GT: where are we?

AG: This is my home planet 8efore it was destroyed.

AG: It's called Alternia.

GT: oh, cool.

GT: and what's that, over there?

AG: That is my hive, which is a thing that you refer to as a house.

AG: It's where I grew up.

GT: it's a castle!!!

AG: No shit!

AG: It is 8ig and fore8oding and ostent8ious, just the way I wanted it.

AG: As a 8lue8lood, I was entitled to 8uild such a home. Something to set me far apart from the commoners.

GT: you built it?

AG: Of course not. Ro8ots 8uilt it for me when I was very young.

AG: 8ut I was allowed to dict8 instructions. Expected to, in fact.

GT: oh gosh.

GT: so rad.

AG: Really?

AG: I still find it interesting what sort of mundane facts humans tend to 8e impressed 8y.

AG: Anyway, my design kind of got 8oring as I got older. A huge castle hive sounds great, 8ut it starts feeling pretty cavernous and lonely after a while. There were so many 8locks I never even used!

AG: Your tastes change, 8ut you get stuck with growing up in a place suited to your earliest, most juvenile inclin8ions.

AG: No8ody tells you that when you're a kid though.

GT: i think i know what you mean.

GT: i feel like a long time ago, i might have given my dad the impression i really liked clowns?

GT: and now there are clowns everywhere, his stupid collection just keeps growing and growing, and it drives me CRAZY.

AG: John........

AG: That 8arely compara8le example is so cute, I don't even know what to say.

GT: heheh.

AG: This was my custodian.

GT: 8O

AG: She was hurt in an accident.

AG: I killed her myself to put her out of her misery.

GT: :(

GT: holy shit, look at these glittering space riches!

AG: Yeah. I was really into treasure hunting for a while.

GT: What's with the broken eight balls?

AG: Never mind those!

AG: This was my respite8lock.

AG: From kind of an em8arrassing memory, actually.

GT: haha, more eight balls!!!

GT: you sure do like to smash them.

AG: John, addiction is a powerful thing. You pro8a8ly wouldn't understand.

GT: what are you wearing?

AG: Just a fairy dress.

AG: I wore it for this stupid thing I did once.

GT: is that a rocket car stuck in the web over there?

GT: what's that about?

AG: Don't worry a8out it! Man, this would 8e such an awkward moment on a d8. Again, if it was one.

GT: there's something really familiar about that rocket...

AG: Let's keep going.

GT: what's happening?

GT: are we back on earth?

AG: You tell me.

GT: it's my house again. why are we here?

GT: i was having fun seeing your planet!

AG: I don't know, John. They're your memories.

GT: this is my dad's room.

GT: but...

GT: i have never been inside of it.

GT: so why do i recognize it?

AG: Shrug!!!!!!!!

GT: i think...

GT: there were some birthday presents for me in here.

GT: but i can't recall which birthday that was.

AG: It was your 13th.

GT: but i'm 12!

GT: oh yeah.

GT: i remember this.

GT: there were these imps all over my house, acting all rambunctious.

GT: but... why?

GT: it's all so hazy.

GT: where is my dad?

AG: Sounds like some things are coming 8ack to you.

AG: Any chance you remem8er me yet?

GT: no.

GT: sorry.

0 notes

eorzeaisnotcrash · 1 year

Text

Day 9: Fair

…save that which we make for ourselves.

(This one’s nasty…)

They’ve been there half a bell now, looking up at the statue and whispering about who might’ve scrawled CUNT all across the surface. Like as not, they already know the identities of the artist and the poor bastard whose veins provided the now-darkened pigment. The Warrior of Nothing nurses her bottle and watches the Brass Blades from the shadow of the warehouse till their little party breaks up. Then she sets off after her target.

They’re only a problem when they’re in a group and their target can’t fight back. One good blow from the woman who kills (well, killed) gods, and the crooked soldier crumples to the ground. Since they’re already near the edge of town, Dagmar simply puts the other woman over her shoulder and strides off towards Parata’s Peace. She looks right at the guard as she goes. He looks back at her, but does no more. He knows better.

The yarzons and toads don’t care to come near her, either, as she stops not too far from the place where the white-robed Ascian talked at her. Ugh, what must be going through his and his evil friends’ heads right now? They’ve probably been celebrating non-stop since learning most of the people standing between them and their next Calamity are dead.

And this bitch played a part in that.

The first person Dagmar tried this with attacked her as soon as he woke up -looking back, she should’ve seen it coming, nobody likes being snatched without warning -so now she always makes sure they can’t move. Her lance, driven through the Blade’s hand into the ground, both takes care of that and brings her round.

Being a soldier, the other woman’s no doubt used to a certain amount of pain in her life, but the element of surprise can get some noise even out of the professionals. A sharp cry proves nap time to be over.

“I don’t know why one of you is stationed all the way out here. Did they transfer your whole group out of the palace afterward? More politics I’m too stupid to understand? I guess it doesn’t matter either way. You’re not going back to work. I mean, look at your sword hand!”

Oh, she’s realizing who it is standing over her. Now she makes some real noise.

“Yeah, it’s me. Scream all you like, the guards can’t hear us,” the ex-Warrior tells her, with as much cheer as she’s able to feel these days. “And even if they could, half of ‘em know what’s been done to me and mine, and the other half are too fucking scared to come near me. It’s just us girls now.”

“What happens now?” growls the Blade. “You run me through and leave my corpse outside of a town, the way you’ve been doing with those Crystal Braves?”

“What would I do that for? You’re not a Crystal-“ Dagmar hisses and shuts her eyes as the woman’s free hand hurls a handful of dirt right into her face. After she’s blinked away the worst of it, she watches her prisoner’s useless attempt to free herself. “You know that’s not coming out till I pull it out, right?”

She spits at her -like that’ll make her life any worse than it already is. “Fuck you!”

“You already have!” The Highlander pins her other hand with a nearby rock, bending down just long enough to yank the mask and turban off of her. Underneath are bright blue eyes and wavy brown hair. “Wow, you’re pretty. I’ve got a pretty sister -in fact, I’ve got four, all older. Growing up, they told me that girls should support each other. I wanted to believe that when I started adventuring…”

The crook is screaming again, thrashing too. Dagmar kicks her in the side with enough force to turn her screams into coughs.

“…but spend a sennight or two traveling round Eorzea, and it’s clear women can be just as vile as men. And yet, when you lot had me on the floor next to Her Grace’s dead body, when you were hurting me-“ she kicks her again- “somehow I couldn’t stop thinking how odd it was that another woman was part of it! I never forgot you. Even with those masks on, I remember each one of you looking down at me. I’ll see you in my nightmares till I’m dead.”

The tears are about to start like they always do. The ex-Warrior is long past the point of dignity, so she goes on, her voice getting shakier and each kick getting harder:

“It doesn’t feel good, does it? Being powerless and alone. The people I care about and who care about me have been cut to pieces by your friends, or crushed by falling rocks, or whatever the fuck it is you’ve done to all the others at the Stones… or, they’re trying to keep it together and live what life they’ve got left, knowing there aren’t enough people now to stop the primals from destroying everything! The ones who turned on us get to keep on being big shots. I bet if I snapped my fingers and magically cleared my name they’d be in my face tomorrow, telling me the next monster they wanted dead. Like what happened to us just didn’t. And you and those fucking corrupt Braves get to enjoy your bribe money! I’m supposed to stay in an active war zone, pretending everything is fine and nursemaiding the brat who made it all possible while everybody fusses about cheering him up and forgets that I can feel too!”

Her throat aches. Her face is wet. A few tears even land on the Blade’s terrified face, which has started to look a sight thanks to a stray kick and the blood she’s spit up.

“I won’t have that! I won’t!” Dagmar shakes her head and wipes away snot. “I wasn’t born just to slave away and be abused and never do a thing about it…”

She looks around, but this area being the way it is, finding what she wants isn’t hard. Here’s a good one. The color of the rocks that fell in the sewer and now block the Sil’dihn Excavation Site. The Highlander picks it up and shifts it in her hands a bit so she can carry it back to her prisoner more easily.

“You ain’t gonna be so pretty when they find you!”

#FFXIVWrite2023 #my writing #this is edgy #this is violent #WoL is not okay #Clutchfather would be VERY disappointed #Niddy’s loving it though #in my defense I spent the last hour of ARR getting treated like a GoT character #was I NOT supposed to be mad?

1 note · View note

umberandmochaagate · 2 years

Text

But if I'm always the one who "does too much" for events, why am I not given the most accurate time that we're to leave for an event instead of being woken up whenever and expected to do my entire routine in minutes while also complaining about how I'm not moving fast enough after being thrown off my entire riddim 😒

#it's alway 'but you can do it in 5 mins' this is not a YouTube challenge it's my routine #like how you want me to have pigmented eye shadow but think putting a white base takes too long #or that oh I don't need to put anything on my face #but God be damned if I don't even put pressed powder cuz #'a lady needs to still put something: powder and eye liner'#but my lashes take too long for everyone else #and my technique can be cut down #despite the fact that I have several perfected over years of practice #from self application of art skills and Prof Jackie Aina #everyone wants what I do without the meat and seasoning #like this is why I say give me two hours #cuz I hate being stressed when I do my makeup #it's supposed to be a fun expression of self for me #dressing up and putting on heels and makeup and nails and taking pics that's fun #and to rush me to the point that I can't enjoy myself cuz it was decided through telepathy #departure time and what time to get up #and I'm not telepathic though #it's not even an event for me yet I'm getting the most bitching out of it tf

0 notes

todoscript · 4 years

Text

seeing you dressed as a cat for your first halloween together

character: shinsou hitoshi. genre: suggestive. warnings: mature. implied sexual content.

anonymous requested: shinsous reaction to seeing reader dress as a cat for their first halloween together? maybe he’s just become brave enough and started to call her “kitty/kitten”, so reader sees how far she can push him in her costume?? 😳🤭

author’s note: didn’t mean for it to get this long, but y’know. scenario portion underneath the cut!

shinsou hitoshi

your first halloween as a couple is celebrated a year after you and class a had graduated from u.a.

shinsou and you have been together since then, starting dating after you both confessed your long time crushes enduring throughout high school before forming a committed relationship while in the spring of your hero work

for this year’s halloween, the u.a. alumni had decided on a reunion/get-together to celebrate the occasion of spooks and sweets—a longstanding tradition you all just couldn’t seem to let go of despite now being fledging heroes out on the field

yes, this year, the group was planning a festive, joint halloween party along with former class b

of course, you made a point that the two of you would definitely be there the night of the 31st

and like every halloween party, everyone knows it’d be absolute heresy not to dress up in the spirit of the event

the most challenging part, however, was choosing which costume to wear

you thought the idea would come naturally to you, that it wouldn’t be much of a problem finding the character or creature you’d like to parade into the party as

with a dash of makeup and some advice from the girls, you’re sure you could pull off any look, so long as the ensemble wasn’t too extravagant for your liking

yes, something subtle, yet enticing seemed about right—a costume, that when thrown together, read “effortless” the moment you saunter down into the party with a grin painted on lips and confidence oozing out of your presence

though as much as you’d like to impress those attending, you’d be doubtlessly lying to yourself if you weren’t extra indecisive about your attire this year due to the keen eyes of your indigo-haired boyfriend

it is your first halloween together after all, and what better way to enjoy the event than to rile shinsou up, right?

now, it was only the matter of what got him the most hot and bothered—what’d you have to wear to have his heart fluttering and every nerve in his body receptive at just a simple glance at you?

and that’s when it hits you

ah, you thought, a couple of nights before the awaited event, why didn’t i think of this sooner?

- - - - -

Shinsou arrives at the foot of your apartment door the very evening the moon begins hanging in the sky, beholding all the festivities taking place on the anticipated thirty-first of October from its darkening haven.

He nearly trips on his way there, his costume’s frayed bandages dragging behind his feet. As anyone would have guessed, Shinsou decides to tackle the event tonight as your run-of-the-mill mummy—covered head to toe in an assortment of dreary-colored wrappings. Though far from flashy, the costume gets the job done without him having to put too much effort to look presentable, and that is enough for him.

Having texted you about his arrival at your doorstep already, Shinsou lets himself in using the spare key to your apartment you gave him a couple of months ago.

“Y/n? I’m here, are you ready yet?” His voice rings across the expanse of your residence, traveling across the thresholds and penetrating through your room, muffled by the closed door.

“Not quite, but I’m almost done! Wait for me on the couch, Toshi!” He hears you yell in response. Your voice is equally stifled but heard nonetheless. As told, he plants himself comfortably on the couch in your humble living space.

Leg folded over the other, his hands naturally find themselves playing with the edges of his bandages between the minutes ticking by. He checks his phone after the fifth-minute passes, acting wary about the time and pondering how long it would take to reach the party from your current location. Though in all honesty, he never truly cared much about punctuality. Shinsou has never really been a party guy himself, but he’d parade through this shindig just for you if it made you happy. Plus, it is your first Halloween together, after all. It only feels right to indulge in the festivities this year.

Speaking of, right after he presses his phone to sleep mode, he detects the footfalls of your heels clicking against the floor. It seizes his attention to look up and greet you; however, the words barely prevail past his throat at what stands before him.

“Hey, kitten—” His pet name for you is the last discernible thing uttered. You have to giggle at the way Shinsou’s eyes widen while he rakes over your form scrupulously, absorbing every detail available in his line of vision.

You stand at the threshold of your hallway clad in a tight, dark leopard printed suit that molds perfectly against your body—emphasizing its luscious curves—and paired with a set of black cat ears perched atop your head. Your makeup is executed in a way in which the look is sophisticated yet enticing, eyelids smoked in subtle shadows, and lavish lips lined crimson. Shinsou especially doesn’t miss the faint whisker markings drawn across your cheeks.

“Yes~?” you reply playfully, tone teetering the line of innocent and mischievous as you turn around and show him a tease of a view, where he finds the cat tail hanging limply behind your beautiful ass. The way his teeth chafe the delicate skin of his bottom lip doesn’t go unnoticed as it urges you to continue playing along.

“What’s the matter, Toshi? Cat got your tongue? Your kitten’s right here,” you follow with a purr reverberating the roof of your mouth. It isn’t long until Shinsou catches on your act. There’s a shift in his violet eyes that glints darkly as you tauntingly spin your faux tail in place.

“Well come here then, kitty.” He motions you toward him in a hithering gesture. You give him a small show by swaying your hips, gliding in his direction. Drinking in your approaching form, he parts his legs, allowing you to stand between them.

Coming out of your room dressed like this, you knew what you were in for, and you’re positively elated by his reaction at your thoughtfully planned out costume.

Being that Shinsou’s few weaknesses consisted of cats and his girlfriend, it’s only natural that the man simply can’t seem to keep his hands off you, witnessing the best of both worlds before him. While his hands roam across the leopard print fabric veiled on your skin, you fiddle with the ragged bandages wrapped listlessly around his head, an amused grin on your lips.

“I see Pro Hero Mindjack decided to be a mummy this Halloween. It very much fits you, Hitoshi,” you comment. You manage to retain the stability in your voice despite Shinsou’s grabby hands pawing the back of your thighs, slowly wavering to the bottom of your ass.

“Mm, not as much as this suit fits you. Kitten, you’re absolutely gorgeous,” he says, pressing a kiss against your lower abdomen.

You continue, musing, “Oh? So I’m only gorgeous to you dressed as a cat then?”

Shinsou shakes his head coolly. “Of course not. You’re always so beautiful to me, you know that. But damn, sweetheart, you really outdid yourself tonight, dressing up as a naughty cat on Halloween. Just who gave you the idea?”

He palms the globes of your ass in his large hands, which sprouts a chuckle from you before you bend down to plant a delicate peck on his lips, mindful not to smear the freshly coated pigment on your own.

“You, of course,” you answer, honest about the appeal his pet name evoked for you to go about your choice of attire tonight. “Now come on, we have a party to get to, don’t we?”

Shinsou narrows his brows at your last statement, remembering your plans for the night. The image of you strutting down an aisle of partygoers—each of their deviating eyes staring at what’s clearly his—rubs him the wrong way. He’s never pegged himself overly possessive of you, but this costume of yours is much too delectable to be eaten up by anyone else’s eyes. So to be completely blunt, he doesn’t want to share.

As soon as you make a move to turn around to head toward the door, you’re foiled by two tattered arms wound on your waist that effectively pull you onto the couch.

Situated in the empty slot between Shinsou’s thighs, his mouth maneuvers to your right ear to whisper huskily, “Y’know… We could just celebrate Halloween together here. Alone.”

There’s an evident suggestion in his tone that you truthfully expected out of him. To his chagrin, however, you don’t allow him to indulge in his revelries yet.

“Ah-ah Mummy Man, we got all dolled up and everything—”

“Correction, kitty cat, you got dolled up, I did the bare minimum,” he counters, “and quite frankly, I wouldn’t mind getting out of these annoying bandages already.”

Aware it’s going to take a little more to get Shinsou to budge from his seat, you decide to bring out the heavy artillery.

“Yes, but we did give them our word that we’d be there…” you reason, voice sounding sweeter to his ears that he starts wavering his stance. “And I want to see everyone in all their costumes. C’mon, please?”

Damn, for a sexy little thing, you sure know how to immediately flip a switch and act all cute. And how is he to resist when you’re fluttering your long lashes and bestowing him the sanguine light in your eyes. You watch as the fight within him gradually dissipates into dust until he demurely shrugs his shoulders in defeat.

“Fine, let’s get this Halloween party over with,” he grumbles, and you tip his white flag with a kiss on his cheek when he glances away.

“Mm thanks, Toshi, I’ll make sure to reward you handsomely tonight, alright?” Your promises bloom heat in his cheeks, evolving into anticipation throughout his body.

“And who knows… maybe you can find some different usages for those mummy wrappings of yours later.”

#bnha x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha imagine #shinsou hitoshi x reader #bnha headcanons #hitoshi shinso x reader #mha x reader #bnha scenarios #mha imagine #shinsou headcanons #shinso x reader #mha headcanons

878 notes · View notes

noctilucid · 3 years

Text

DannyMay Day 15: Nature

**References my Day 4 (Stars) drabble, but stands alone.**

"Circle up everybody!" Ms. Teslaff barked, rapping her walking stick on a boulder embedded in the trail. "This camping trip is required by the state to be educational. Therefore, you will be given a group assignment designed to meet municipal standards." Mr. Lancer opened his messenger bag and started passing around packets and paper bags. A ripple of complaints and muttered curses spread out through the group. "You will be assigned a partner, and together you will search for and identify these plants. Bring back a leaf for each plant in the packet to receive full credit."

Paulina grimaced and looked down at her shoes for the tenth time that day. She had thought they'd stay close to the cabins for this trip, and her usual cute flats would have served her just fine on the broad, packed paths cut by hundreds of students' feet in the years before. But here she was, hiking in them. The mud was bad enough, but all the uneven terrain was putting creases in the material every time she had to put her weight on the balls of her feet. And now she was expected to go on a scavenger hunt? What was she, five?

"Paulina," Mr. Lancer said with a tired drawl as he read the names written on the brown paper bag on the top of his stack, "you will be partnered with Sam Manson." He handed her the bag and a packet before moving on to the next group.

Uhg, perfecto. I'm with Creepy Manson. They did this on purpose, didn't they? Paulina cut her eyes at Sam as she stomped over in her combat boots, looking equally thrilled.

"How many plants do we have to find?" Sam sighed, taking the packet from her. She flipped through the pages. "Well, at least these are all pretty distinctive."

"I'm sure you're disappointed none of them can lay eggs in my face," Paulina returned with an edge. She still hadn't forgiven Sam for that incident at the aquarium all those years ago.

Sam narrowed her eyes, not looking up from the paper. "Spores."

"What?"

"Plants don't lay eggs. Some of them have spores." She folded back a few pages and held up a picture of a fern they were supposed to locate. "This one can lay spores in your face."

Paulina raised her hand and waved at the teachers. "Miss Teslaff, I want a different partner! I don't want Sam to murder me and bury my body in the woods. I'm too pretty to die."

"No changing groups!"

Paulina huffed and crossed her arms. "Tough break," Dash said to her as he and Valarie headed off on one of the forks in the path.

"Good luck!" Kwan chimed in, who was paired with Tucker. "Hey, you got a plant identifying app on that thing…?"

"Do I ever!"

Danny put a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder as he followed Mikey uphill. "Try not to be too hard on her?"

"No promises," Sam grumbled.

Soon the path had cleared out except for the two of them and two pairs of band nerds peering over their packets together.

"Come on, let's get this over with," Sam said at length, grabbing Paulina by the wrist and hauling her off in a random direction.

"Ow! Hey, get off of me!"

Sam did let go, and then scuffled up a tumble of boulders to a trail on higher ground. Paulina let out a dramatic and frustrated groan before following her up much more slowly. By the time she caught back up, Sam was standing in the shade of a tree growing out of a split in the rock, studying the packet again.

"Oriental Thuja?" she said, forehead creased. "Why would they even put that on here? It's not native to this area."

"So we won't be able to find it?" How much is this stupid assignment worth anyway?

"No, it could be here, but it's invasive."

Paulina rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you're going to be sacrimonious about plants now too."

"Oh, of course," Sam returned. "Because you only like nature if it's pretty and flatters you. You can't be bothered to learn about something complicated like an ecosystem." She headed down the trail at a brisk walk, grabbing a sapling and using it as a hand-hold as she swung herself down another steep portion.

"Would you stop doing that?" Paulina yelled after her, but Sam didn't slow down. "¡Joder!" she swore under her breath. Somehow, she was going to make Sam regret this by the end of the day. She just had to figure out how.

***

A brooding 45 minutes later, and Sam had found five of the plants they were looking for with little help from Paulina.

"Next is the purple coned larch…" Sam said, more to the paper held in front of her face than to Paulina. "We should probably go uphill to look for it…" Paulina died a little more inside. No more climbing hills!

"Oh, is that one of the ones that's going to lay spores in my face?" Paulina sniped as Sam strode on ahead for the hundredth time. "I guess you would end up with some weird kinks after being possessed by an ugly plant ghost."

"You're the one who brought up the face eggs," Sam said, nonchalant, and notably not slowing down. "I think that says more about you than about me."

Paulina clenched her fists. "Ugh! You're such a freak, you know that?"

"Aaaand personal attacks mean you have no convincing arguments left in your arsenal! Looks like it's Sam two, Paulina zero for the day so far." Sam was steadily moving out of range, and Paulina was forced to follow if she wanted to continue the argument. She was busy trying to think of a better jab while watching where she put her feet, but Sam beat her to the punch. "It's kind of sad that you're still hung up on this actually. Move on already."

Paulina gritted her teeth as the angle of the slope forced her to grab a muddy point of rock to haul herself up with. "Would it kill you to apologize? ¡Dios mío!”

"For what?"

"For harassing me with a starfish, Miss Don't-Be-Cruel-To-Animals!" She stood up and tried to wipe her hand clean on a tree trunk. "And I mean a real apology, not that stupid letter the teacher made you write."

"Oh, yeah, to be clear, I didn't mean that apology letter."

"It was clear," Paulina said, quiet and venomous.

"I hope you shredded it or something. I'm kind of embarrassed to have my name on the bottom of it."

"I threw it in the fireplace as soon as I got home that day."

"Well, that's a relief," Sam said with a performative grin. "And no, after what you did to Danny, you'd better believe I'd eat a hot dog before I'd apologize to you."

"I only went out with Danny to get under your skin!"

"Exactly."

Paulina's hands spasmed between gestures as she tried to collect herself. "Did you ever think that maybe, if you weren't such a self-absorbed piece of shit, maybe your friends wouldn't get hurt as much?"

Sam's face went blank for a telling second before she focused back on the paper. Paulina was a little surprised that jab had worked, actually, but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She couldn't think of anything to follow up with, so she decided to allow the silence to be her victory.

And she's back to climbing again. Someone kill me…

They had almost reached the summit of the hill they were on— Paulina was debating to herself whether it was tall enough to be considered a mountain— when Sam finally found what she was looking for. The tree she was examining was scrawny and gnarled, squeezing its roots into the veins of available soil, and it was barely taller than they were.

"I think this is it. The needles look the same," Sam said, holding up the page for comparison. "It would help if the picture wasn't in black and white, though."

Paulina cast a glance over the diagram and the plant in front of them. "No, it doesn't have the little cones," she grumbled. I swear to god, if we have to climb any higher…

"This one's pretty young. I don't think it's old enough to have fruited before. They take a couple of years to get established."

"Well how can you tell if this is the right one? There's a thousand different Christmas trees on this hill, and they all look the same." Paulina shook her head. "You know, whatever. Let's just take a branch and go—" She sputtered to a stop as Sam pushed the packet and paper bag full of samples into her hands. Paulina adjusted the materials in her hands and watched as Sam stooped down, fished in her combat boot with two fingers, and pulled out something long and thin. She pulled off the makeshift cap, revealing the stubby tip of a well-used oil pencil.

Kneeling in front of the tree, Sam drew some intricate shape on the trunk with the dark blue pigment, then murmured something Paulina didn't catch. In the shadow of the trees branches, Paulina saw the symbol glow faintly green, and the same light snaked up the tree along the ridges in the bark until it reached the closest branch. With a quiver, the end of the branch put out fresh needles and then a tiny purple cone.

"See?" Sam said, breaking off the end of the branch. "Perfect match."

Paulina gaped like a fish. "You— Holy shit, you—" Magic. That was honest to god magic! Paulina felt lightheaded. She had been… dabbling. Combing the internet and old bookstores. At first, she had hoped to find a spell that could summon a ghost, or anything else she could use to get Phantom's attention. But as the weeks had stretched into months, she had become desperate to find any scrap of genuine magic. And here it was.

"Are you— is that Wicca?" she finally managed.

Sam shook her head. "Semitic Neopaganism. There's a difference."

Paulina paused to think on it. Could I learn Jewish magic if I'm not Jewish? Would it even work for me? She chewed on her lip. What am I saying? There's no way Manson would teach me anything in the first place. Then Sam started speaking softly, and Paulina had to shake out of her thoughts to catch it.

"I did think about apologizing," Sam said. "Properly. I was… kind of a mess in fifth grade. Um. And sixth and seventh too, actually." Her eyes remained focused on the pine sprig in her hand as she spoke, slowly rotating it between her fingers. "I've never liked you. But that didn't make it right for me to pick on you." She stood up and took back their paper bag, tucking the sample inside. "But then you pulled Danny into it. So, I'll never apologize." She finally looked up and met Paulina's gaze. "And neither will you." Paulina opened her mouth to retort, only to realize that Sam was an image of perfect calm. It was not an accusation, not a barb, just a statement. And Paulina had no idea how to respond. "We're both petty bitches," Sam continued. "It's in our natures. So… let's just move on." She extended a hand to Paulina. "Deal?"

The offered hand was stiff and formal, as if this were a business meeting rather than two sweaty girls talking on a hiking trail, but Paulina saw an earnestness in it. Slowly, she reached out and slid her own palm into Sam's.

"Deal." She watched Sam for a moment, her unwavering gaze, the ridiculous purple contacts, the stillness which had come over her, like a stone come to rest. Not sophisticated or refined, as Paulina sought to be, but… very Sam. Very self-assured, in a way Paulina pretended not to admire. "We don't like each other."

"Naturally." Sam released her hand and turned to head back down the slope.

"But we… don't hate each other either. We just... are. Now."

Paulina saw the little quirk of a smile enter Sam's lips. "Yeah."

"And maybe… we can talk about magic sometimes?" She shook her head, slightly embarrassed. "Like, over text, so nobody gets the wrong idea?"

Sam chuckled. "Yeah. That sounds fun."

A smile crept over Paulina's face in spite of her attempt to hide it. Oh, what does it matter? Sam's not looking at me anyway. She gave herself a moment to squeal silently in her head. Real magic! She'd found someone who knew real magic! She shook her head again. Of course it would be Manson. Of course.

She picked up her pace, in spite of her sore feet, in spite of the damage she was doing to her shoes, to catch up to Sam. It was easier going downhill. "What do we still have to find?"

Sam extended the packet to her, pointing to one of the plants. "Just two left, lady fern and honeysuckle. They both like to grow near water, so I saved them for last. We can head down and check the creek on our way back." Oh thank god, we're almost done. Paulina leaned in to get a better look at the fern diagram. "You know, there's a spell I've been working on that uses ferns. Maybe we should grab a couple extra?"

Paulina squealed out loud this time, and clapped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry," she mumbled through her fingers. "Solemn. Solemn goth witch." She folded her hands in front of her and tried to look composed. Sam laughed.

"Nah, you don't have the wardrobe for that. Go on, be as pink as you'd like." She stepped down a bank of tree roots and held a branch back for Paulina to follow in her wake. Paulina paused in surprise before accepting the gesture.

This will take some getting used to.

#dannymay2021 #phanniemay2021 #danny phantom #Paulina Sanchez #Sam Manson #my writing

61 notes · View notes

imagine-lcorp · 4 years

Text

Folie à Deux (One Shot)

A/N: Hello guys!!! HAPPY HALLOWEEN AND FELIZ DIA DE MUERTOS/HAPPY DAY OF THE DEAD to all of you wonderful people. Here I come once again to share a lil one shot to celebrate this already gone spooky season but i hope you can still enjoy it. Bear with me as I try to pull some hannibal vibes over here. Let me know what you think and thank y’all for sticking around!!

Lena Luthor x Killer R//Word Count: 1,653

Content Warnings: Blood, Death, Murder, Guns, Corpses, Graphic Descriptions of Violence.

-------------------------------------------------

folie à deux. /fôˌlē ä ˈdœ/ French (n.) lit. madness for two; delusion or mental illness shared by two people in close association.

"I leave you my portrait so that you will have my presence all the days and nights that I am away from you." — Frida Kahlo.

Lena Luthor was no stranger to fear but never in her life had she faced such terror. She could feel it in the back of her head, making her afraid of every corner and shadow of her own house. She could feel it in her chest as she forced her lungs to take steady breaths to calm the erratic beating of her heart. She could feel it in her skin, tuning her fingers cold as she gripped her gun tighter, with every careful step she took to get behind you.

"You're home earlier." Your voice, as soothing as ever, made her stop dead in her tracks.

She saw you, turning around and looking at her with attentive eyes. When you noticed the gun in her hand, you tilted your head. You smiled softly, wondering how much time was left, either before the police and her friends arrived or before she pulled the trigger on you.

"Is that for me?" You asked and, in her shock, Lena managed a small nod. "Such peculiar gifts we come bearing, don't you think?"

Your smile never faltered. She could still notice it as you turned your attention at the painting that was now installed in the central wall of her living room. She stood a few steps behind you and observed. You had just finished it, that much she could tell by the faint smell of paint fume and bright tones of the oils.

It was wonderful, like nothing you had ever showed her before. A danse macabre done with a style so characteristic of you, in which two stark white skeletons seemed to dance and embrace each other. They were surrounded by a field of blood red poppies that, upon a closer look, resembled tiny skulls amidst an equal blood-red sunset...or was it a sunrise? She would have to ask you, just like whose blood was it.

"Is that blood?" She couldn't take her eyes off the painting. Not even after the question had left her lips and her instincts screamed at her to run for her life.

"Burnt sienna and a hint of Prussian blue. Although you know I prefer the real stuff, I wouldn't want anyone to take it away from you in search of evidence." You said, enjoying your own clever remarks. "What do you think?"

"I didn't think you cared about criticism in your work." Lena replied, unable to recall a time when you had ever asked someone else's opinion about your work.

"Art, like love, is the reflection in which we can see ourselves through other's eyes. So I care when it comes to you." You turned again to look at her. "Tell me, Lena, what do you see?"

Lena looked back at you and what she saw in your eyes made her catch her breath. Madness and love, all mixed up together. A look that seemed to reach within the darkest part of her soul and, instead of trying to give it light, you marveled at it.

"You." She said taking a deep, shaky breath. "And me."

With barely a hint of hesitation, she took the last steps forward, placing herself right beside you. She looked at the painting, both a love letter and an omen of death.

"When I saw the photos of the murders, all I could see was you. From the blood paintings hanging from walls to the bodies displayed in such surreal forms. The bullets and the knives, the wounds and the cuts. You were there, in every detail."

She could remember the first time she ever saw pictures from the crime scenes and feeling as if she had been seeing photos from a gallery exhibition. Each body they had found had been displayed in the most bizarre and beautiful shapes and poses. Bones, flesh and skin, all arranged in forms she didn't know were possible for the human body. She had been horrified at first about it all but, the more she looked, she hadn't been able to deny there was certain grace and elegance in the killer's doing. Whoever had done it, she had thought, was a genius of their own morbid talent.

"Then, when they gave me the list of victims, all I could see...was myself." She swallowed the lump in her throat.

Each crime scene had come along with a list of victims too. The police had identified them with varying degrees of difficulty. Some names had been hard to find while others had been too obvious to even pretend they hadn't recognized them the moment they had seen their twisted faces. However, as different those victims seemed to be between each other, what tied them together were their own crimes. Abusive husbands and wives, child molesters, unethical practitioners, corrupt officials and political leaders with their own dark intentions. People that, even Lena recognized, no one wanted wandering on the face of earth.

Your latest victim had been the judge that had let Edge go free on bail. All her efforts to put him behind bars for good had mean nothing. Then she heard the news. His body had been displayed on his own court, hanging from the ceiling in his black robes, with a band covering his eyes. His chest had been opened and in his hand he held a pair of scales. His heart laid there, weighed against a black feather, ready to be devoured.

The real shock of the murder, however, came after a single detail was revealed. Their blood. The judge and the rest of victims had been drained of their blood before exposing their bodies.

She had never thought too much about it, because there had been nothing to think about when you told her red was one of your favorite colors. It frustrated sometimes, as a painter, how hard it was to find a shade of red as bright and vivid as that of blood. Fortunately, you had learned a long time ago how to make your own red pigments and oils, using the blood of animals, usually pigs whose death was more meaningful than their lives anyway, you had said.

"I wanted to make something beautiful out of such grotesque people." You sighed and turned your head to look at her. "Turning lead into gold with every drop of blood and every stroke, each one an offering and an amend. Is my vision so different from yours? Is yours that different from mine if we want the same?"

"I wanted justice. This is not it." She said resolute, feeling again the metal of the gun against her fingers. "This is only the aftermath of your own judgment."

"Could you say then, in your judgement, if I was fair on my own?"

"If I say you were then every crime of yours is one I have performed too."

"And I recall, you would have wanted it a few times."

Were the deaths of those men and women justified? Had their own acts been so evil that you had to pay them in kind? She remembered how bad had she wanted it sometimes, to make justice by her own hand because it seemed more reliable than a justice court. That much she could understand about your deeds and maybe that was enough for her.

"It's all the same. If there is no justice, then let it be reckoning." You looked at the gun in her hand and raised a brow. "Isn't that why you have come?"

"I have to stop you." Lena said, and you would have expected her to be quick about it. For her to raise her hand and point her gun, to pull the trigger and be done with it in a heartbeat.

But she didn't move.

"Here." You moved your hand slowly towards hers. She didn't even flinch as she watched you hold her fingers against the gun and raise her hand towards your chest. The hand of an artist, the hand of a killer. "Turn my blood into gold. Let them have their reckoning."

Still, she didn't move.

It was the moment Lena understood it all and became truly afraid. Afraid, not about pulling the trigger, not about shooting you through the heart, but to have life and death dancing on her fingertips. To choose with no remorse but with a clear conscience and blood in her hands. So easy, she had thought, to end your life and watch it vanish through your eyes.

"I can't." She said, and you felt her fingers loosen up. "I do not have your talents for this."

You took the gun and looked at it for a moment before looking back at Lena. "You do. It just takes a little practice."

In the distance, the sound of sirens filled the streets. You had been left with no more time.

"Now, come. Justice is upon us, and we don't want them to think you have been making deals with the devil."

Without another word, Lena could fathom what would follow next.

"No." She said with nostalgia already brimming in her eyes. "We have just been dancing around each other for a while."

You offered her a hand, with the other still holding the gun. "Soon the music's over, so let's give it one last chance."

Lena took your hand and, in a confident move, you spun her around. She closed her eyes and felt the warmth of your body against her as you embraced her from behind. Then she felt too the barrel of the gun against her temple.

"Once I'm away, please, remember. I've only ever tried to show you beauty." Your soft breath tickled her ear as you whispered to her. "Can you see?"

When Lena opened her eyes, all she could see was red. The painting hung in front of you and it seemed to her as if you were both facing a mirror.

She felt no fear this time. "It's terrific."

237 notes · View notes

queenxxxsupreme · 4 years

Note

Geralt and either NFWMB or Like Real People Do pls

A/N: I chose Like Real People Do. I owe a huge HUGE thank you to @pressedinthepages for just being such an amazing beta!!! I love you baby <3

Warnings: implied smut prior to this story but no details, mentions of nudity but nothing sexual, mentions the death of a child, mentions of a mother losing her child,

***

I had a thought, dear, however scary about that night the bugs and the dirty,

Why were you digging? What did you bury before those hands pulled me from the earth?

The light from the hearth flickered against the walls of the room. Outside, rain tapped lightly against the window. A gust of chilling wind blew against the panes, making a little whistling noise.

You were laying on your side facing the witcher in your bed. One of your legs lay across Geralt’s lower stomach, his hand resting at the crook of your knee. His thick and calloused fingers held your tender skin, and his arm closest to you was pillowed beneath his head. Your head was on his chest, counting his breaths and listening closely for his heartbeat.

You’d only known the White Wolf two years come the Summer Solstice. He found you at the town cemetery placing flowers upon a grave. He approached you to ask you about the ghost that had been haunting the town at night. After a bit of chatting and flirting, he ended up in your bed. Now, every time Geralt passed through your village in Kaedwen, he’d stay with you.

I will not ask you where you came from,

I will not ask you, neither should you

You lifted your head to see if the witcher was still awake. He was, in fact, and his eyes were focused on you.

“Hm?”

“I just….” You trailed off for a moment. “How long will you stay this time?”

“I don’t know.” Geralt answered honestly.

You looked down at the medallion on his chest. There was a scar next to where it lay in the valley of muscles and lean strength. That’s where your eyes went next. It was large and jagged. The wound had been anything but clean. You were amazed that the Wolf had survived a blade to the sternum.

“Are you going to ask me about them?” He spoke, deep baritone bringing you from your thoughts.

“No.” You softly shook your head.

“Why not?” He brought his eyes to meet yours once more. “Everyone does.”

“You’ve never asked me about mine,” you offered with a little shrug of your shoulder. “I’ve no desire to bring up painful pasts. There’s nothing that can be done to change it, so why linger?”

Geralt said nothing.

You put your head back down on his chest and closed your eyes.

Geralt listened to your breathing, to the way you exhaled softly. You didn’t go to sleep though, you rarely did when he was around. He wasn’t sure if your sleeping habits were so poor because of him, or if it was because of something else.

His mind wandered to what you had said about not wanting to bring up painful pasts. He’d always been curious why you wouldn’t ask him of his hunts, of his life as a witcher. Sure, you’d ask about his brothers, about his bard and his child surprise, but you never asked about how he got the scar cutting through his eye or any of the other thousands of scars littering his body. Sometimes you’d trace them in silence or kiss them gently, but you never spoke of them.

You’ve never asked me about mine, your words echoed in his head.

You had few scars on your body, fewer than him at least. There was a large one that went from your left rib down to your hip. It was clean but thick in width. A few other scars were here and there on your cheeks and the back of your hands, where another prominent one stood out in a stark relief of pigment.

Geralt silently wondered if perhaps the scars on the back of your hand were from self defense, if maybe you were ever attacked.

His thoughts went to the day he met you. You were at a grave in the cemetery. He didn’t pay attention to the name on the headstone then, but later after leaving your home, he returned to the graveyard out of curiosity.

The name on it was of a young boy, described to have only lived to his third harvest season.

Geralt had made assumptions through the couple years you’d seen each other off and on. His first assumption was that it was a brother or a relative of yours buried beneath the headstone. But then on one of his longer stays, he noticed there was children’s clothing in your wardrobe. Also in your wardrobe, he found a painting of a little boy with a bright smile.

He came to the conclusion that you had lost your son. He was curious and wanted to know, but he could never bring himself to ask.

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do

A few hours later, you both were still wide awake in silence, save for the ambient noises of the life around you. Sometimes you’d try to start a conversation, but it never lasted long.

The sun was beginning to peek through the windows, shining light into the room. His hand removed up and down your back.

You lifted your head up and looked at Geralt. His eyes found you. You said nothing though, and instead brought your eyes down to his lips.

You admired the Cupid’s bow on his top lip, the way a tiny scar seemed to start on his bottom and trail down a half an inch.

Your eyes flickered back up to him. He was watching you closely. You didn’t realize until then that his hand on you had stilled. He was tense and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he looked panicked.

Gerald cleared his throat and you looked away, taking that as a sign that he didn’t want to kiss you, or partake in whatever it was you were thinking about.

You sat up off of him, pulling your hair over your shoulder to cover your breasts.

He shifted a little on the bed, fixing where the linens rested just above his groin.

“I should, um...I should be getting up.” You spoke quietly.

He said nothing. He didn’t know what to say. So he laid there in silence, watching you dress and leave the room.

The White Wolf let out a breath, laying his head back against the pillows. He wished it was easier, that his life was easier. Maybe then he’d feel able to settle down, to commit to you. You deserved someone who could do that for you, but he couldn’t be the one. There were far too many dark things in his past, too many beasts following him. He couldn’t bring that to you.

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @mishafaye @whitewolfandthefox @wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration @shadow-hunters-lover @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @raspberrydreamclouds @natkowaa @disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural @magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @hina-chans-stuff @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle @theawkwardpedestrian @scarlettwitcher @badassspaceprincess @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an--actual--human--disaster @rubyqueen819 @omgkatinka @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @vonxcon @mazakeen @bravelittlesunflower @thereagles @awkward-turtles-world @menalliha @cotton_mo @maan24 @thefirelordm @monkeymo @krenee1drful @nympha-door-a @unadulteratedtreecrusade @Aquarius-pisces-rose @mentallyscreamingsincebirth @fl0ating @sometimesiwrite @ayamenimthiriel @crazybutconfidentaf @grossgayartist

#geralt x reader #geralt x reader fluff #geralt fluff #geralt #the witcher #the white wolf #kacey answers

122 notes · View notes

hysterialevi · 3 years

Text

Hjarta | Chapter 7

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

FIVE DAYS LATER

BJORNHEIMR, THE TEMPLE

Eivor cradled the basket in his hand, meticulously examining its contents to ensure that everything was in order.

At the moment, he was preparing to make an offering to Thor as thanks for their good fortune on the day of the ambush, and had arranged a humble collection of different gifts for the mighty god.

Inside the basket, he had placed a variety of meat, beer, mead, sweets, and a dagger from his own personal armory. Normally, Eivor wasn’t the type to depend entirely on the gods for safety, but considering recent events, he wanted to secure a strong relationship with them in case a tempest were to strike the village. He had no idea if Kjotve was planning any other attacks in addition to the ambush, and he could think of no one better to appeal to other than the Defender of Midgard.

He just worried that his offering might not have been sufficient. It was a well-known fact that the thunder god enjoyed things in great quantity, and Eivor didn’t have that much to give at the moment. Ingrida always said that no offering was too small, but even then, the man prayed that his gift wouldn’t be considered measly. Things were precarious enough in Bjornheimr as it was; Eivor did not wish to vex the gods as well.

Working his way up the hill, the Wolf-Kissed spread a layer of cloth over the basket’s opening and held it tightly underneath his arm, careful not to disturb its contents.

He could hear the drinks sloshing inside their bottles to the rhythm of his footsteps, and a handful of scattered clinks reached his ears as they softly bumped into each other. Meanwhile, tiny snowflakes began to gather on the fabric lying above, and sunk into the cloth’s neatly-knit threads. They dotted the surface with jeweled specks of ice and clung onto Eivor’s skin, giving him a slight chill.

The weather wasn’t exactly ideal for spending any time outside -- the snow seemed to be piling up higher than usual today -- but the young man carried on with his plan nonetheless.

Reaching the top of the hill, Eivor strolled past the charms decorating the sides of the path, only to stop in his tracks when a nearby pair of voices caught his attention.

Up ahead, Eivor saw Ingrida and Sigurd talking with each other underneath the roof of the temple, just barely avoiding the snow that came blowing their way. The prince wore a wary expression on his face and spoke to the seeress about a matter of deep concern, causing a sense of anxiety to swell in Eivor’s chest.

It was fairly clear to the Wolf-Kissed that his friend spent a lot of energy concealing the many troubles in his life, but the fact that he felt the need to reach out to their völva worried him to a significant degree.

He hadn’t seen Sigurd ever since their conversation in the tavern after all, and he was oblivious to any new issues that may have risen during their time apart. It was unusual to see the prince in such a state, and Eivor had to admit that his curiosity was beginning to get the best of him.

He only hoped that Ulfar wasn’t the source of his perturbed nature. The man made his feelings about Sigurd quite plain back in the tavern, and Eivor had never known him as a person to shy away from confrontation. It was a blessing of a trait in most situations, but a hinderance in this one.

“...You’re certain there’s no other explanation?” Sigurd asked, clearly unhappy with the response he got.

Ingrida crossed her arms, reiterating her point. “I will tell you the same thing I told Eivor. I cannot speak in absolutes, for I do not know the gods’ intentions. I can attempt to decipher the messages they convey, but ultimately, it is impossible to offer anything unambiguous.”

The prince let out a troubled sigh. “I... I see.”

“I realize this must be disturbing news, but look at it this way. At least you are prepared now. You have an inkling of what to expect, and sometimes, a mere suspicion can be enough to save one’s life. Obviously, I do not mean to stoke any paranoia within you, but a little caution would be wise.”

Sigurd nodded, taking the woman’s words to heart. “Of course, but you understand if I say this is difficult for me to accept. I don’t doubt your prediction, seeress, but... I just can’t fathom why anyone would--”

The man came to an abrupt pause, stopping mid-sentence when his eyes fell upon Eivor in the distance.

“--Oh,” he said, his voice still laden with unease, “Eivor. I didn’t see you there.”

Ingrida followed Sigurd’s line of sight, smiling in the Wolf-Kissed’s direction. “Ah, hello, little cub.” She eyed the basket in his hands. “Come to make an offering?”

Eivor hugged the object close to his chest, admittedly growing somewhat weary of bearing its weight.

“Yes, seeress. I hoped to thank Thor for our survival in the forest.”

The woman appeared pleased. “An excellent idea. Go on and present your gift to the gods. I will ensure that nothing disturbs it.” Ingrida brought her eyes back to the prince. “As for you, Sigurd, try not to let this revelation suppress you. You are a man of many responsibilities. Your clan needs you to stay focused.”

“...Of course. You’re right.”

“I’m glad you understand.” Ingrida began making her way back inside the temple, strolling through the arch. “This war is nearly over, but the battle has not ceased. Do not surrender just yet. Either of you.”

Shutting the door behind her, the seeress disappeared behind the temple’s walls and returned to her duties, leaving Eivor and Sigurd alone. Meanwhile, the younger man approached his friend and glanced at him in an inquisitive manner, hoping to calm his nerves somewhat.

“Sigurd?” He asked. “Are you alright? A cloud of unrest hangs over you.”

The prince took a moment to gather his thoughts, not wanting to alarm his companion too much. “I’m... I’ll be alright. Don’t worry about me.” He glanced at the basket in his grasp. “What’ve you got there?”

Eivor lifted the cloth. “Just some food and drink for Thor, and a blade as well. I figured I should bring something of great quantity considering our luck that day. What about you? What brings you to the temple? You looked... frightened when I arrived.”

Sigurd sauntered towards the other man, speaking as he walked. “Nothing of immediate urgency. I’ve just been having these strange dreams lately. Visions.”

“Visions? Really? Of what?”

“A wolf.” He answered. “At first, I merely dismissed the dream as a simple nightmare, but it’s been occurring over and over again. In the same way, and in the same order. So, I came to Ingrida for answers.”

Eivor’s interest was hooked. “Tell me about this wolf. What did it do? What did it look like?”

“The wolf was as white as snow,” Sigurd described. “Its eyes split the darkness with a predatory glare, and its stature challenged that of a fully grown man. Its snout and teeth were stained red with the pigment of fresh blood, and hiding behind its features, I... I could almost... recognize someone.”

“Recognize?” Eivor repeated. “What do you mean? This was a wolf, was it not? How could it resemble a human?”

The prince shrugged. “I have no idea, but... I felt it. There was something familiar about the wolf’s face. It was a sensation that I have no proper words to describe.”

The young man tilted his head towards the temple. “And? What did Ingrida have to say about these visions?”

Sigurd was quiet for a second, hesitant to tell the truth.

“...She believes this vision foretells a betrayal.”

Eivor’s eyes widened in surprise. “A betrayal? At whose hands?”

“She doesn’t know, and neither do I. I have no reason to suspect anyone just yet, but somehow, that almost makes it even worse.”

“How did the seeress come to this conclusion?” Eivor questioned. “What makes her believe betrayal is the only answer?”

“Because she had a similar vision,” Sigurd explained. “Ingrida tells me the gods sent her a dream the night before I arrived. Apparently, she saw a man who looked just like me. He bore the same mark upon his neck, and his eyes glowed with a raging fire. The ground beneath him was soaked in blood dripping from the stump of his own arm, and standing behind him was another white wolf, prowling in the shadows.”

A thought crossed Eivor’s mind. “...I suppose that explains why she called you ‘the one who walks with Tyr.’ It also explains why she was skeptical of you when you first met.”

“I suppose it does,” the prince agreed. “But what connection could I possibly have with Tyr? And why me? What makes me so special?”

Eivor shrugged. “I don’t know. You mentioned you used to have dreams about a kingdom constructed of iron when you were a child. Do you think that could be related?”

“...Perhaps? But I don’t see how it would fit into all this. The kingdom I saw looked nothing like any of the places I’ve ever heard about. Not Helheim, and certainly not Valhalla. It likely originates from a place beyond this realm, but the purpose of its existence continues to elude me.”

Sigurd sighed deeply, resting his hands on his hips. “...Forgive me. I don’t mean to dump all of this onto you. You probably have enough on your shoulders.” He switched to a lighter subject, deciding to put his fears to rest for the time-being.

“How have you been, Eivor? Is your wound feeling any better? I planned to check on you multiple times, but I fear that my duties always got in the way.”

“No worries. It’s just started to heal. Ingrida says it’s going to leave quite a prominent scar in its absence, but well, it’s better than dying.”

A smirk twinkled on Sigurd’s face. “...I like it.”

“Really?”

“Why not? It gives you character. It makes you look like a warrior.”

Eivor chuckled. “That, or a fool who wasn’t able to handle himself in a fight.”

Sigurd’s smile only brightened. “Nonsense. Each scar you bear is a battle that you survived. Wear it with pride.” He patted his friend on the arm. “But enough about that. I was actually planning to visit you after speaking with the seeress.”

The Wolf-Kissed quirked a brow. “What for?”

“I wanted to take you up on your offer. For fishing. I was down at the docks earlier today, and saw some decent-looking fish roaming in the water. Still in the mood for it?”

Eivor nodded, grinning joyously at the man. “Without a doubt. We can find a boat and take it into the fjord. There are plenty of spots I can show you. Just let me finish my offering for Thor first.”

“Of course. I’ll meet you there when you’re ready. In the meantime, I’ll gather some supplies. See you soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

THE DOCKS

Pacing eagerly towards the pier, Eivor strolled excitedly through the village with an unusual spring in his step, smiling to himself as he briskly made his way past all the other buildings.

It had been a while since he last got the chance to spend any time with Sigurd, and he imagined that the two of them would have plenty of catching up to do. Even though they hadn’t bumped into each other for the past few days, Eivor always spotted the prince zipping back and forth around Bjornheimr, tending to his never-ending list of duties.

The man always looked so busy. Eivor was well-aware that a prince’s life wasn’t nearly as laid-back as other people expected, but even Sigurd’s schedule seemed to be overflowing with a ludicrous amount of responsibilities. He hardly had any time to even sit down, and the sockets around his eyes had darkened slightly due to a lack of sleep.

Eivor just hoped Sigurd was okay.

Finally arriving at the docks, the Wolf-Kissed came to a halt and gazed at this surroundings, trying to single out the prince’s head of red hair from the crowd. He eventually located the tall man standing at the edge of the pier with a basket and a pair of fishing rods, but to Eivor’s surprise, he wasn’t alone.

Dag seemed to have also joined the party, in spite of the sour expression plastered on his face. He was conversing with Sigurd in an agitated tone, and his brow had crinkled in a manner that displayed obvious annoyance. Strangely enough though, the prince didn’t appear to mirror his temperament.

Just what was going on?

“Sigurd!” Eivor called out, causing both of them to turn their heads.

“Ah,” Sigurd replied radiantly, “Eivor. There you are. I was just asking Dag if he wanted to join us. I hope that’s not a problem?”

The younger man would’ve been lying if he said he wasn’t somewhat disappointed, but he didn’t have the heard to tell him “no.” He knew Dag was a close friend of Sigurd’s after all, and he didn’t want to interfere. But still... part of him had been looking forward to spending the day with the prince alone.

“No,” Eivor lied, “not at all. He can come if he likes.”

“Great.” Sigurd brought his gaze to Dag. “So, what do you say? Care to go fishing with us?”

To Eivor’s relief, the man refused.

“I appreciate the offer,” Dag said flatly, “but I can’t accept. I have other things to do. You two go on without me.”

“Are you sure?” Sigurd asked, somewhat put off by his friend’s dour mood. “The weather has calmed down since this morning. Now’s the perfect opportunity to take a break. We’ll only be gone for a short while.”

Dag nodded in a dismissive fashion. “Yes, I’m sure. I have many things to take care of, and I’m afraid they cannot wait. Like I said, you two can go without me.”

Sigurd’s eyes dimmed at his friend’s response. “...Well, alright. If you’re certain.”

“I am. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

Storming off like a pouty toddler, Dag practically stomped away from the scene and swiftly made himself scarce, leaving Sigurd and Eivor with an uncomfortable silence. The two of them watched in confusion as the man disappeared in the distance, and not too longer after he vanished, they exchanged glances with each other, bewildered by what just happened.

“What was that about?” Eivor asked. “Is something wrong with Dag?”

Sigurd sighed in frustration, reaching down to grab the basket. “You know what? I’ve been asking myself the same thing. Dag’s been acting this way ever since the feast, and I don’t know why. This kind of behavior is unusual for him.”

“Have you talked to him?”

The older man lifted the basket onto his shoulder, walking towards the end of the pier as Eivor followed him from behind.

“Not yet, no. And even if I did, I’m not sure he would give me a straight answer. Dag’s never been the type to open up so easily. I’m just wondering if it’s because of something I did.”

His friend was quiet for a moment. “Does Dag always behave like this?”

Sigurd shook his head. “No, actually. He’s still the same man I know most of the time, but... recently, he’s been going through these random bouts of anger. And they’re always directed at me.”

The prince placed the basket down on a boat waiting beside the pier, carefully stepping onto it as it gently bobbed up and down with the water’s movement.

“I just wish he would talk to me. Dag is a dear friend of mine, and I don’t want anything to be wedged between us. Especially not after hearing Ingrida’s prediction.”

Eivor gave him a sympathetic look. “Try not to let it worry you. I’m sure Dag’s just stressed out from the constant battling with Kjotve. I know we all are. He’ll open up to you when he’s ready.”

Sigurd let out a breath. “...I hope so. I have enough on my plate at the moment. I don’t have time to be running around in circles with Dag. The sooner he opens up, the better.”

He suddenly glanced up at his companion, deciding to leave the subject alone. “But push that aside. You came here to fish, not to listen to my life problems. Are you ready to go?”

The younger man stepped off the dock and took a seat across from Sigurd, excited for the ride ahead.

“Ready when you are.”

“Wonderful. Thank you for coming with me, by the way, Eivor. I apologize if I seem more stern than usual. I fear that this past week taken a toll on me.”

Eivor took no offense. “There’s no need to apologize. We’re all going through a lot. It’s only normal. Just try to forget about it for now.”

“I’m glad you understand. You seem to be the only one these days. But... you’re right. Today is a day meant for relaxing. Let us not spoil it. Come on, why don’t you show me those fishing spots you mentioned? I’m eager to see them.”

The Wolf-Kissed grabbed the oar and smirked at Sigurd, pushing their boat away from the pier. “As you command, my prince.”

~~~~~~~~~~

BJORNHEIMR, THE FJORD

Venturing deep into the fjord’s divine embrace, Sigurd and Eivor traversed across the water’s glassy surface, steadily gliding along with its rippled waves. They made sure not to put too much distance between them and the village as they did with the waterfall, but even then, the sheer size of the fjord was enough to make them feel as if they had stepped into another world.

All around them, mountains extended into the sky for what seemed like miles, and appeared to kiss the base of the clouds. Their peaks were frosted with fresh snow that floated down from the heavens, and their base remained concealed beneath the ocean, forming a basin fit for the gods themselves.

Meanwhile, a thin curtain of fog draped itself over the mountains’ rugged forms and obscured the landscape waiting ahead, encompassing the world in a layer of mist that stood as a barrier between the two men and the secular village they left behind.

It was the perfect place to clear one’s thoughts, and Eivor could see that Sigurd was already beginning to unwind. The disquieted expression that once hung on his face had vanished, and at the moment, he was currently sitting peacefully on the boat, watching contently as fish poked their fins out from the water’s surface.

They were completely alone out here, and Eivor wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“So,” the younger man said, “what’ve you been doing these past few days? I haven’t had the chance to talk with you in a while.”

“Oh, nothing too exciting,” Sigurd answered, leaning back in his seat. “I’ve joined your father and Ulfar at the war table quite a few times now, and I’ve also been getting to know Randvi more. It’s difficult to juggle between the two, but things have been going according to plan so far.”

Eivor threw a puzzled look at him. “What about your father? Does he not take part in your conversations in the war room?”

The other man hesitated for a second. “Oh, h-he does, but... well, he’s been occupied lately. Sometimes I take his place.”

Eivor couldn’t deny that he found the response a bit odd, but he decided not to pry any further. “I see. And what about Ulfar? I hope he hasn’t given you any trouble.”

It was Sigurd’s turn to be confused now. “Ulfar? No, none at all. Why would he?”

The Wolf-Kissed sighed sheepishly, unsure of how to explain. He assumed Ulfar would have already expressed his concerns to the prince about his ability to be a leader, but evidently, he was wrong.

“I, well... I suppose there’s no harm in letting you know. The day you and I went to the tavern, Ulfar stayed for a drink after you left. Initially, he was in a rather foul mood, and it was directed at you. He said you almost got me killed in the forest.”

A look of guilt spread across Sigurd’s face. “...Ah, I see.”

“I spoke with him, though,” Eivor reassured. “I convinced Ulfar it wasn’t your fault, and he told me he’d withhold any further judgement for now. That’s why I asked if he had given you any trouble. I was curious to know if he still harbored these doubts. But don’t let it bother you. Whatever Ulfar does, it’s only to keep me and my siblings safe.”

Sigurd shook his head in disagreement. “No, he’s right. I should’ve been more careful that day. I made a foolish decision, and you nearly paid the price. It’s a good thing you’re a skilled warrior. Otherwise, I’d probably be responsible for your death by now.”

Eivor’s expression sank with pity. “Don’t say that. It’s not your fault what happened in the woods that day. You could’ve run off at the first sign of danger, but instead, you risked your life to save me. And everyone knows it. Even Ingrida.”

“Well, I may not be at fault,” the man conceded, “but I was ill-prepared for such an ordeal. If I’m going to be king someday, I need to be able to protect people. That includes you.” Sigurd shifted his position slightly, sitting more upright. “I promise, Eivor, I won’t endanger you like that again.”

The young man grinned. “I appreciate it, but we’re in the midst of a war. I’m afraid we don’t have much choice. Anything can happen at any time.”

“True, but I’ll still do everything I can to keep you and your people safe.” Sigurd displayed a small smile. “Death may be inevitable, but that’s no reason to let it take us so willingly. That’s why we have shields.”

Eivor chuckled. “I suppose you’re right.”

The two of them trailed off into silence briefly, only for the prince to bring up another topic.

“Hey, speaking of Ulfar, did you hear his report?”

“No.” Eivor said.

“Well, apparently, he and his men found two camps in the woods not too far from where we were attacked. They both belonged to Kjotve.”

“Really? How many men were there?”

Sigurd conjured a rough estimation. “About ten each.”

“Ten?” The Wolf-Kissed repeated in alarm. “That’s nearly two dozen in total. That’s enough men to carry out a small raid.”

“Indeed. We’re lucky Ulfar was able to drive them out before their numbers grew anymore. Thankfully though, he didn’t uncover any plans to attack Bjornheimr. He believes these particular men were just scouts sent here to keep an eye on the village and send information back to Kjotve. Our encounter with them wasn’t coordinated. A few of his people simply decided to take matters into their own hands.”

Eivor found some comfort in that. “Well, that’s a relief, at least. Still, I wonder how Kjotve will respond to this.”

Sigurd raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“If these men were sending regular reports to Kjotve, he’s going to realize something’s wrong when they come to a sudden stop. He might even send reinforcements.”

The older man couldn’t help but admit he had a point. “Hmm. That does sound likely. I’ll have to warn your father and Ulfar about the possibility of retaliation. We may be preparing for a wedding, but Freya knows that won’t stop Kjotve from spilling blood.”

A shiver traveled down Eivor’s spine. “What if... what if he comes to Bjornheimr? What do you think we’ll do?”

The answer seemed fairly clear to Sigurd. “We’ll fight, of course. What else?”

“No, no,” his friend corrected, “I didn’t quite mean it like that. I just...” Eivor gazed down at his father’s axe, tracing a hand down its grip, “...I’ve spent so many years thinking about how I would take my revenge on Kjotve; for what he did to my parents. I’ve convinced myself that I’d slit his throat without a second thought, but... if he actually shows up, I don’t know if it’ll be that easy. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

A sense of empathy softened Sigurd’s eyes. “It won’t be easy. But whatever happens, make sure you fight for what matters. Ideally, Kjotve will never set foot on your shores, but if he does, fight not for revenge. Fight for the honor your father lost. Only then can you know true peace.”

Eivor stared aimlessly at the water surrounding them, trying to block out the memories of that horrible night. “...I’ll try. Even if it kills me.”

The younger man watched the soothing rhythm of the waves dancing around them and fell into a deep train of thought, only to be pulled out again when Sigurd’s voice reached his ears.

“Hey,” he said gently, leaning closer to his companion, “are you alright, Eivor?”

The Wolf-Kissed blinked a few times, still somewhat lost in his own past. “Yes. I’m fine. It’s just... difficult to think about, you know. My parents were killed over a decade ago, and yet, their words from that night remain fresh in my head. It’s hard to ignore them sometimes.”

“Of course,” Sigurd replied. “I understand.”

“Anyway,” Eivor said, not wishing to dwell on the grim subject any longer, “you mentioned you’ve been seeing Randvi more earlier. How are things going between the two of you?”

“We still don’t know each other that well,” Sigurd confessed, “but she strikes me as a kind woman; an honorable one. I think we can make this marriage work. Although, I must admit... it’s bizarre to think about how she’ll be my wife in only a week from now. The future felt so far away when I first got here, and yet, these past seven days have fleeted by within a heartbeat. It just makes me wonder how fast the wedding will arrive.”

Eivor caught onto his tone. “Are you nervous?”

“Yes, and so is Randvi. But I think we’re both slowly coming to terms with it.” A glint of curiosity formed in the prince’s gaze. “What about you, Eivor? Have you ever considered marriage?”

The man laughed. “Me? No, not really. I’ve had partners in the past, but... nothing serious. It’s difficult to imagine someone marrying me, if I’m being honest.”

Sigurd scoffed. “Psh. Nonsense. Anyone would be lucky to have you as their spouse.”

“You think?”

The older man shrugged. “Why not? You’re compassionate, humorous, handsome, and--” Sigurd suddenly froze in shock, utterly embarrassed by his own words.

Meanwhile, Eivor simply gave him an appreciative smirk, undeniably amused by his slip-up.

“You consider me handsome, do you?” He teased.

Sigurd stammered bashfully and brought a hand to the back of his neck, barely able to hold eye contact with the Wolf-Kissed anymore. “Gods above... erm, f-forgive me, Eivor. I... I didn’t mean to--”

“--It’s alright.” He interrupted. “The truth is, I think you’re handsome too.”

The prince paused at Eivor’s remark, calming down somewhat. “You... do?”

Eivor chuckled, leaning forward in his seat. “Yes, you fool. Who wouldn’t? You’re strong, kind, caring, and you...” the young man caught himself before he could say anything else and stopped mid-sentence, abruptly retreating from his comments as Sigurd watched him quietly.

“...No,” Eivor said, his tone much more sullen now. “I can’t do this.”

Sigurd found himself growing concerned. “What’s wrong?”

The other man sighed in despondency, looking shamefully away from his friend. Eivor assured Ingrida that he wouldn’t allow his emotions to interfere with the upcoming wedding, and yet, he had barely been able to stop himself just now.

His thoughts slipped free from his lips as if they carried a mind of their own, and if it weren’t for the fact that everyone’s safety was depending on this alliance, Eivor had no idea how far he truly would’ve gotten.

His ability to restrain his desires was already being crippled just after a week of knowing Sigurd, and the looming reality of his feelings was enough to send Eivor into a state of panic and loneliness.

These next few days were going to be nothing but absolute turmoil for him, and sooner or later, he’d have to accept it. He just didn’t know how.

“Sigurd...” Eivor whispered sorrowfully, “...can I be honest with you?”

The older man nodded. “Of course. What’s going on?”

The Wolf-Kissed looked him directly in the eye, taking a deep breath. “...The truth is, ever since we met at that feast, I’ve been infatuated with you.”

Sigurd’s brow furrowed in shock. “...You have?”

“Yes. Whenever we’re apart, I’m always thinking about when I’ll see you next, or how you’re doing. I care about you, and I worry about your well-being despite being no more than an acquaintance.”

The prince knotted his hands together in thought. “And what about when you’re with me?”

Eivor showed a faint smile to him, but its facade was quickly betrayed by the pain in his gaze. “I feel at peace. I feel like nothing in the world can touch us. I feel a certain way that I’ve never felt before with anyone else, and it... it frightens me sometimes.”

The young man continued. “But I can’t allow these feelings to develop any further. No matter how persistent they may be. We’re both bound by our duties, and yours is to secure an alliance with my clan. The only thing I can provide for you is a distraction that you can’t afford.” Eivor slunk back to his end of the boat, hiding inside the shell that he constantly wore. “...I’m sorry, Sigurd. But our relationship can’t go beyond this.”

Sigurd offered nothing other than silence in return and simply delved into his own thoughts, gazing downwards in a desolate manner. It was clear that he mirrored the same affections that Eivor expressed, but he felt even more reluctant to share them now that he knew about the other man’s views.

It was the burden of being a prince, he supposed. Everyone always told Sigurd that his choices were his own, and yet, he was being forced to repress something that others would’ve been more than happy to admit. His life had been nothing more than one big preparation to rule the kingdom someday, but he felt as if he hardly had any control over his own life.

Still, Sigurd knew Eivor was right, and he knew he couldn’t afford to deviate from the path set out in front of him. The war with Kjotve was much bigger than either of them, and everyone’s safety was depending on this alliance.

“I... understand, Eivor.” He said quietly.

The younger man hung his head low, unable to ignore the guilt settling into his mind. “I’m sorry it has to be like this, Sigurd.”

“Don’t be. What you’re doing is noble. Not everyone would have your restraint.”

Eivor’s mood barely lightened at that. “It doesn’t feel noble. But I know it’s necessary.”

Sigurd nodded solemnly, unsure of what to say anymore. “...Indeed.”

Having had enough of this place, the older man took hold of the oar and stuck it into the water, eager to return to solid land.

“We should starting heading back.” He said abruptly, earning a tilt of the head from Eivor.

“Already? Are you sure? We haven’t even been out for that long.”

“I know, but I fear that my free time is rather limited today. An abundance of tasks awaits me in Bjornheimr, and I’m almost certain that my father will require my presence as well.”

Eivor peered at Sigurd with concern, clearly able to see that he had been affected by their conversation.

“Okay.” He agreed tentatively. “If you’re sure.”

“I am. Come on, I’ll row you back to the village. Just sit back and relax.”

Guiding their boat away from the fjord, Sigurd steadily drove them back to the shoreline without uttering another word as Eivor sat quietly on his side, admittedly feeling somewhat remorseful for having dimmed the mood.

Initially, he had been excited to spend more time with the forlorn prince, but now, he wondered if he had made a mistake. It was no question that a special type of bond connected the two of them, and Eivor mentally scolded himself for allowing it to strengthen even further.

At this point, part of him was considering the idea of severing their relationship. It was difficult enough battling the constant temptation that he felt whenever he was with Sigurd, so Eivor thought that, perhaps, it might’ve been best if he simply eliminated the chance for it to show up again.

There would be no need to practice restraint if the prince avoided him altogether. They would be complete strangers just like before, and Eivor wouldn’t have to worry about clashing with his desires on a daily basis.

But... he knew he wouldn’t be able to do such a thing. He cared about Sigurd too much, despite only having known him for a week. That man housed something special within his heart, and the last thing Eivor wanted was to cast it aside.

Still, he didn’t know how he would proceed from here. Sigurd was aware of his admiration now, and any interactions between them would’ve bred nothing but awkwardness.

They both needed some time to get their thoughts in order, and frankly, Eivor was starting to feel grateful that the other man decided to make such a swift exit. He needed to be alone for a while, and it was evident that Sigurd also had plenty to think about himself.

It was one of those moments where Eivor felt the urge to seek out guidance, and he knew exactly who to get it from.

He just worried that they would tell him precisely what he didn’t want to hear.

~~~~~~~~~~

BJORNHEIMR, THE DOCKS

“Here we are.” Sigurd announced, letting the boat drift towards the pier as he gazed into the distance. “...And it looks like Dag is waiting for me. Just like I expected.”

Eivor stood up from his seat. “What does he want from you?”

His friend put down the oar and climbed back onto the docks, taking their supplies with him. “Nothing. It’s my father who probably wants something. Dag is merely the messenger. I just hope it’s not what I think it is.”

Walking briskly ahead of the other man, Sigurd strode down the wooden pier and made a beeline straight for Dag as Eivor hurried to his side, abandoning the boat.

A newfound irritation had worked its way into the prince’s usually serene demeanor, and the Wolf-Kissed wondered if he’d finally learn the reason behind Styrbjorn’s aforementioned absence at the war table.

“Dag,” the redhead called out in a firm tone. “What are you doing here?”

The bulky warrior removed himself from the tree he had been leaning on and approached Sigurd, appearing no more pleased than before.

“The king requests your presence at the longhouse.” He informed. “There’s a problem he needs your help with.”

Sigurd sighed in defeat, plopping the basket down in frustration. “Of course he does. Is it the same ‘problem’ as yesterday?”

Dag nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

The prince shook his head angrily. “That drink-addled fool...! He promised me this wouldn’t be an issue. What is he doing now?”

“He’s waiting for you in his chambers. Same as always. I suggest you hurry. He’s in a worse state than usual.”

Sigurd’s face stiffened with ire. “And it’s no one else’s fault but his. What is that man thinking?” He paused for a second, recomposing himself. “...Thank you for letting me know, Dag. Hopefully, we’ll never have to have this conversation again.”

The raider began strolling away from them, pessimistic about the idea. “Hopefully, but not likely.”

Removing himself from the scene, Dag disappeared once again while Eivor took his place, confused as to what just happened. It was quite obvious to him that Styrbjorn seemed to be at the core of this issue, but he hadn’t the faintest idea what the issue was exactly.

“What’s going on?” Eivor asked. “Is your father safe? Do you need any help?”

Sigurd quickly rejected the offer. “No, no. He’ll be fine. He’s just being an idiot. It’s best if I deal with this alone. Believe me.”

The younger man’s curiosity remained fervent, but he decided not to press anymore. The prince was evidently in a state of heightened exasperation at the moment, and Eivor suspected that any further questions would’ve only earned him more animosity.

“...Alright. If you say so. But don’t hesitate to ask for my aid if you need it.”

“Thank you, Eivor. I appreciate it.”

Forcing himself to relax, Sigurd rubbed his temple out of stress and turned to face Eivor, softening the jagged edge of his voice.

“Forgive me. I don’t mean to be so irate, but things are chaotic enough as it is, and my father is only making things worse. He’s ignoring all of his responsibilities, and piling them on my shoulders instead. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t affecting me.”

Something clicked in Eivor’s head. “So that’s why you’ve been so busy.”

“Yes. That, and a few other things. But those matters are irrelevant right now. The only important thing I have to say is... thank you. For taking the time to come with me today.”

“Of course, Sigurd. You need only ask.”

The older man beamed warmly. “...You truly are a blessing. You know that, Eivor? I genuinely believe you’re the only person I can fully rely on. You’re a man worthy of trust.” He placed his hands on his hips, returning to his usual temperament. “But I’ve idled for long enough. My father’s probably wondering where I am. Feel free to take all the fish we caught. You deserve it for putting up with me today.”

Eivor took the basket in hand, waving goodbye to Sigurd. “Farewell for now, my friend. Take care of yourself. And remember, I’m here if you need me.”

The prince started heading in the direction of the longhouse, returning the wave with one of his own.

“The same goes to you. I may be busy, but my door’s always open, Wolf-Kissed. I only pray that our next meeting will be under better circumstances. Until then, stay safe. We all need you.”

#hjarta #assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #sigurd styrbjornson #eivor wolfkissed #eivor wolfsmal #eivor varinsson #male eivor #sigurd x male eivor #ac valhalla fanfic

25 notes · View notes

koipondering · 3 years

Note

Hey hi! I saw your painting posts and as always they're soooo beautiful and amazing it's unreal.

I am here because I have questions regarding shadows. Somehow I can never do shadows and please give me some tip on how to work on my shadow thing. Plus, do you use white gouache for the white highlights on the top layers?

Hello! Thank you for the kind words on my art, I think it keeps me sane some days and drives me insane on others. I always welcome questions about anything I do, and I will help to the best of my ability, you can always ask here and I can answer, or if you like I can also be found on Discord and Instagram.

As for the shadows- are you having problems with where to put the shadows? or on how to get them dark enough? I use a lot of reference for my works, and that gives me a lot of clues as to where the shadows will fall, however often I will still have to kind of fudge them, and honestly its best to use clear photos with a good source light to help guide you.

If its a matter of how to get your shadows darker, if your working with watercolor, I do what is called "glazing" which means that I lay down a number of layers of shadow and let it totally dry between layers before putting another layer on top of it. To get the really dark darks on some of my works, there may be up to 20 layers in some places. Also part of it depends on the paper your using and the paints you use. I tend to use very high pigmented paints because I paint with really bold colors, rather than the more pastel light look that is favored by a lot of artists.

Highlights can be a mix of several things. If I can possibly help it, I try to use the natural white of the paper by using masking liquid/frisket (it often times looks blue in my photos) to preserve whites. But if I can't do that or scrub back up the color, then I will bring in the use of White Gauache or some times white gelly roll pens (a favorite of many artists) to add highlights. Normally those are used like in the highlights of eyes, underside of nose, or lip or to pick out details that can get lost. Over time I have found I need to use it less and less and some times not at all but its a good thing to have on hand just in case. You want to do your best to try to preserve whites over covering it up if you can, because it will never look quite as good over larger areas, but it can rescue a painting in a pinch.

I hope this helps.

#Koi Speaks

2 notes · View notes

wornoutmouse · 4 years

Text

You weren't against soulmates, in general, you were just against yours. Like a few others, your mark was there when you were born meaning that your soulmate was older than you. You weren't upset about them being older you just felt that you would make them uncomfortable or hold them back. Also, your soulmate mark wasn't even fully developed only being a dot which meant your soulmate was somewhere far from you making it less likely you'll meet putting you at ease. Now here you were in Japan in horror as your soulmate mark takes full effect.

You were traveling with your mom for a business meeting since it was mid-summer the heat was unforgivingly forcing you to wear tank tops. You felt nothing but a slight itch on you back and were startled when your mother threw her shoe at you and told you to take your clothes off. She was now sitting behind you recording your how your mark was spreading. "Your soulmate must have just come back to Japan or something?!" your mom squealed making your ears hurt and silently thanking the gods her quirk wasn't sound-based like this Present Mic you kept seeing on T.v. "What is it, mom?"

"Hell if I know, it's in Japanese!?" you deadpanned, "We are in Japan, but you don't know Japanese?" all you got was a knock on the head as your mom snapped a picture, "I think it's done!" you turn around and hold the phone staring in awe at the picture, "It's beautiful isn't it?" she asked trying to gauge a reaction. You only grimaced, "It's big and it's obvious." you say as you pull your shirt back up. "Oh come on Y/N!"

https://images.app.goo.gl/sE5UoRMFYN2XL21c8 This is the soulmate mark once it develops.

You stand up walking to your closet looking for clothes that weren't too heavy but would hide the mark. "You know how I feel mom!" she sighed, "Yeah but you didn't even give it a shot!" You turn towards her and in a fit of anger, you burst. "Yeah well dad didn't give it a shot now did he!?" your mom smacked upside your head and you instantly regretted your words as you saw the tears in her eyes. "That is exactly why I'm telling you to stop waiting! I waited and he was shipped away!" You reached out for her only to pull back for you knew you had nothing to say. You scratched the back of your neck and kicked the air, 'I'm...I'm going to go for a walk, give you some space you know?" your mom only nodded as she fiddled with the promise ring your father gave her before he had to leave for 'family' business.

As you walked you thought of ways to say sorry to your mother. "Flowers won't do since she's allergic, maybe food." you muse as you walked out of the hotel. Walking the route you knew led to a mom and pop dinner, you absent-mindedly kept scratching your neck where you assumed the top Japanese character was. "Why is it so damn itchy?" you asked aloud but you just summed it to the fact that your skin was adjusting to the pigment change. You groan when you realize that your mark was only partially covered.

"No one should look too hard if I'm lucky they'll think it's a tattoo." You made it to the mom and pop shop and ordered some Chicken Karaage with your broken Japanese that you were sure even a toddler would laugh at. As you were waiting you couldn't help but notice a tall, blond, scrawny man staring at your back making you uneasy. His gaze was broken when a young boy with green hair came and sat down with a tray of feed. 'These Japanese people just love their wacky hair colors.' you smirked laughing with yourself.

Once you got your food you took your leave ignoring the skinwalker as you now referred to him. On your way back you hear a loud scream coming from a playground and you quickly run over. There was a strange creature that had ahead of what you could only assume to be a cat with its brain revealed bashing a large globe that held two little boys. Quickly putting the food on the ground you hop over the small brick wall surrounding the playground and take out a sword from your eye before jumping and trying to stop the thing through the back. Before you could land the blow the thing turned around and swiped at you barely missing as it ripped your shirt a bit tearing through the skin above your left breast. "It's always the weirdos with the brains," you growl.

You weren't a pro by any standards but you were a hero, in theory, you just graduated so you were still interning so the closest thing you came to is being a lifeguard of the hero world you jump in when no one else could. "I know I can't take this bastard on my own, but how the hell am I supposed to get a hero's attention?" you grumbled as you pulled a flaming bow and arrow kit out of both your eyes. You quickly took aim as the creature came barrelling towards you shaking the ground under is three-toed feet.

You take slow breaths deciding to aim for the eye, nerves becoming calmer the closer the thing got. You shot the arrow and it hit it's eye making it wail into the sky. As you expected it promptly pulled the arrow out and seemed to regenerate almost immediately. It didn't matter to you, all you were trying to do was get the kids out of there as you situate them on your back. You weren't the fastest but damn it you'd try. Suddenly a shadow cam over you and you looked up to see some beefy guy in red white and blue standing tall and proud in a protective stance in front of you. The kids on your back suddenly got stars in their eyes, "All MIght, All might."

The man threw his head back and laughed, "Have no fear, because I am here!" he announced to the world and you couldn't help but snort at how corny it was. You didn't miss how the man suddenly lost confidence at the sound of your amusement.

"I uh.." he trailed off, tan skin suddenly tinged red with embarrassment.

"Excuse me ma'am!" you looked forward and there stood the green-headed boy from earlier. "Could you please come over here where it's safe, the police are on their way. You look over at the tall man and your eyes widen as you see him use his head to slam into the creature. "Yeah that sounds like a great idea.." you trailed off following the boy. As you sat a distance away from the scene you give your witness statement when the police arrived and showed them your hero license when they questioned why you were using your quirk instead of running, it was a bit hard considering how you fumble with your Japanese but you pulled through. It took the man, All Might, 45 minutes to talk the creature down and for some reason, you could tell that this was not his best performance but every so often he would glance over you like a child showing that they could dress themselves.

You hand the kids over to the police and you head towards the park entrance face lighting up when you see that the food remains unharmed, cold, but unharmed. "Excuse me young lady!" came the broad voice of All MIght. "Yes?" you ask thinking he had more questions for you, "Can I speak with you in private?" you shrug seeing no harm in it only to yelp as your scooped up bridal style into his arms as he leaps about 50 feet in the air onto an apartment complex. "What the hell was that!?" you yelled swaying as you were set back on your feet. "I do apologize but I didn;t want any press involved"

You quirk your eyebrow, "Involved with what?" your eyes widen as the man began rolling off his hero onesie. "What are you doing!? I know Japan has different rules but I'm pretty sure streaking is a no-no!"

Your breath caught in your throat as he turned around and you saw the exact same soul mark as yours. 'So much for no one noticing.' you thought with a small frown. "I'm sure you know what this means." All Might said with a hopeful smile. You nod before snapping your finger realizing you just acquired the perfect forgive me gift, "Yeah can you come home with me?!" All Might suddenly backed up form you, hands up in a defensive position. "Waoh now young lady, I'm just as excited about finding each other as you are but I'm not sure if we should jump to that just yet, are you even of legal age?!" you scoff and stick your tongue out I am 18 for your information!" All MIght relaxed the slightest bit, "That's great but can we wait til a solid 19?!" you doubled over laughing when you realized the problem.

"That's not why I want you over All MIght! I want you to meet my mom!" All might completely deflate at that revelation and you've never seen someone at peace in such a fast instance "Oh okay."

When you arrived back to your room you open the door shocking your mother from the large man taking up all the space. "Mom this is..." you look at your soulmate realizing you didn't know his name, "Yagi Toshinori." he coughs awkwardly. "Yes, and he is my-" you were cut off as a loud hiss sounds off from Toshinori's direction, and before you can ask there is a puff of smoke and blood and suddenly the large man ou knew as all might disappeared and became the skinwalker that was watching you in the restaurant. "SkINNY MAN?!" you yelled pointing at him.

Yagi awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and laughed, "I thought that if you have my name you might as well have all my secrets." he said making your heart flutter. "This is cute and all but who the hell are you?!" both ou and Toshinori turn to face your mother. "We're soulmates."

your mother passed out

#bnha all might #bnha x poc!reader #all might #toshinori yagi x you #yagi toshinori #mha imagines #soulmate

119 notes · View notes

gumnut-logic · 4 years

Text

Take a Minute

This is another case of me just indulging myself. It took longer than expected and ended up at around 2400 words, none of which really go anywhere.

Many thanks to @i-am-chidorixblossom for the read through and cheering.

I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

The hatch creaked as the hydraulics let it down to the dry hard packed dirt. A small puff of dust billowed up around the hot cahelium and it caught in his nose, tickling in the heat.

The horizon was flat and the earth iron red as it disappeared into the ominous grey of the cloud blocking the sky.

Virgil’s boots made their own puffs of dust as he stepped off the hatch and emerged from under the shadow of Two. The puffs followed him as he walked the length of his ‘bird. The dirt gritted under his specialised soles as he avoided the heat of her cooling VTOL and the scorch of her now quiet thrusters.

His landing was precautionary. A warning light had come on during the flight home and dumping himself in the middle of the Outback for a mechanical check was preferable to taking a swan dive in the middle of the Tasman.

Outside appearances gave no clue to the issue and unfortunately, he would have to wait for her engines to cool off before attempting to access the thruster that was the problem.

A sigh and he turned back to look at the horizon.

He truly was in the middle of nowhere.

“Thunderbird Two, status report.”

Typical Scott. His brother was hip deep in a rescue on the other side of the planet, but his brother radar still managed the range.

“Status a-okay, Thunderbird One. Just taking a moment to gaze at the scenery.”

“John says you have a mechanical fault.”

“Quite possibly. Fine for the moment. Just need a little cooling time. I’ll keep you updated.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Two.”

And then it was back to the silence.

True silence.

There was no wind.

No water.

No birds.

Just the heat of a dying day leaching out of the sand, the creak of his cooling ‘bird, and the potential energy in the air.

It was going to rain.

The Kansas farm boy could tell that much. Even in another country and an entirely different environment, he could feel it.

He didn’t need fancy instrumentation to predict that.

The impending storm raised the hair on his arms under his uniform. It itched at his skin and spoke of change.

Ants crawled across his boots, winged queens and drones launching to join a cloud of them off to his right.

It was eerie.

He shifted where he stood, unsure of what to do next. He wasn’t one for killing time. Time was a valuable thing and needed to be used to its upmost. But this stop was unplanned and there was little he could do while waiting.

Sure, there were tasks. There were always tasks, nitty gritty maintenance jobs. He was never short of work.

But the air was still. The sense of building atmospheric release buzzed across his senses.

It was tantalising.

He shivered.

There were still a couple of hours before sunset, but the air was dark due to the heavy cloudbank looming over the landscape.

A thought.

A flash of guilt followed by stubborn determination.

He turned and climbed back on to the hatch and retracted it, only to lower it again a few moments later with a folded chair and a box in his hands.

He parked it in the sand.

The silence was a physical presence.

He opened the box to reveal a portable watercolour kit – a neat palette of half pans, a fine brush and a small block of high-quality paper.

It was an indulgence he kept aboard his ‘bird. One he had yet to use, so this was definitely an opportune moment. A tiny amount of time to throw down some colour and capture this red-on-blue-grey intensity.

It didn’t take him long to realise he had forgotten a couple of things. A muttering step back into his ‘bird and he returned with a small table and a cup full of water.

He finally managed to settle himself. Painting while wearing his uniform wasn’t the most comfortable. It was bulky and in the way. He did shed his gloves, which meant he had to take off his wrist controller. Scott would frown enough to dent his nose, but he couldn’t paint with his gloves on.

There was heavy lifting, but there was also sensitive and tactile manipulation. He liked to think he was capable of both.

A dip of his brush into clear water, a dab of cadmium red, and colour spilled onto the paper.

Payne’s grey filled the sky in soft billows with just a hint of ultramarine. He tried to keep his touch gentle. Watercolour was so unforgiving. Fast and delicate, the colours could easily be overdone and unlike acrylic or oils, could not be undone satisfactorily.

It took all his concentration to sketch out the worn landscape.

The parched air dried the colours quickly and it wasn’t long before he was flicking strands of yellow ochre spinifex in the foreground, the little painting almost done.

In the distance, the clouds rumbled warning.

He dabbed in a second layer to bring up the contrast, the greys echoing the thunder on the horizon. Just a touch of green brought out the red of the iron in the sand.

“I really don’t know how you do that.”

Virgil nearly fell out of his chair.

“Scott!” His heart thudded in his ears and he clutched the drying painting in his hands as it tried to slip from his fingers. “What the hell?! How did you…?” He shot to his feet and turned to find his brother standing behind him. Beyond, at a respectable distance, sat Thunderbird One.

Scott held up both hands, taking a step back. “Hey, I saw you were painting, so I parked back a ways. Figured you wouldn’t want VTOL messing with your paints.” But then his brother was smothering a grin. “You were kinda zoned out there, Virg.”

“You were in Prague! How did you get here so fast?” It was a stupid question. He was Scott Tracy. Fast was part of his genome.

But his brother frowned. “It’s been over an hour since I last contacted you. The situation is resolved. I was on my way back and thought I’d check in. John said he hadn’t had an update.”

Virgil stared at his brother. An hour? He brought his wrist up to check the time, but his controller was on the little table beside his chair with his discarded gloves.

Oh.

Scott arched an eyebrow at him.

Virgil grunted before putting the painting down carefully and retrieving his equipment. A moment later, his gloves were on and his wrist controller back in place.

It was indeed over an hour later.

Thunderbird Two would have cooled down enough forty-odd minutes ago.

“You were lost in your painting, weren’t you.” It wasn’t a question. His brother sighed, walked over to the table and picked up the piece of art. Blue eyes scrutinised it. “Nope. I don’t have a clue how you do that. It’s great, Virg.” He handed it over and somewhat numbly, Virgil took it.

He stared at the strokes in which he had been so absorbed earlier. The landscape stretched into the paper, reds bouncing off blues, the stillness captured in pigments.

Okay, so he had to admit, it was working quite well. He had muddied the colour a little in one corner and there was a patch where he’d left more white paper than was probably necessary because he was too worried about over doing the paint, but overall it mostly did what he wanted it to do. Oh, his wash hadn’t quite worked in that bit. Damn.

But…

He could get away with it.

“Earth to Virgil? You okay in there?”

Scott was smirking.

Virgil glared at him before cradling the watercolour block in one hand, picking up the palette with the other and packing it away. He stomped his way back to his ‘bird.

He ignored the laugh behind him.

He was stashing the paints in their locker when Scott joined him in Two, both the table and chair folded up in his hands. “Where do you stash these?”

Virgil gestured in the direction of the utility store and his brother put the equipment away.

Back in the cockpit, Virgil pulled up the suspect control and found the red light still glaring accusingly as Scott entered behind him.

“Give me ten. I need to inspect her starboard thruster.” He grabbed a safety line and threw back the overhead hatch. The gloomy atmosphere crept into the cockpit, but he ignored it and elevated the himself up so he could climb onto the top of his ‘bird.

“Virgil, you do know there is a storm coming in. You’re standing on the highest point for miles.”

“I’ll only be a minute.” Keep your pants on.

But his brother was right. His dawdling with his paints had cost him time and the weather was moving in.

He hurried across the back of his Thunderbird sliding carefully onto her starboard intake, and making his way down to the access hatch. He hooked in his safety line, prodded his controller to release the security, and hauled the hatch open.

Five minutes later, with several profane words that had Scott even more concerned, he yanked an obstruction out of her secondary intake valve.

It was a bright yellow, now somewhat grimy, Thunderbird Four.

No more than four inches long.

“I’m going to kill him.”

“Virg? What? Who?”

“Gordon.” He didn’t elaborate. The sky was well and truly rumbling now and he needed to get inside.

Tightening the valve, he gave it a good once over to check for damage. Another poke at his controller and the dash confirmed the issue resolved.

Access secured, he unhooked his line and made a run for the main hatch just as the landscape lit up white with lightning.

He leapt into his ‘bird as if he had that lightning on his tail.

His boots hit deck plates. Virgil reached up and threw the hatch closed and sealed away the angry sky.

Scott was staring at him.

Virgil met that gaze before walking past his brother towards his pilot seat. He casually chucked the little Thunderbird Four to his brother like the grenade it was.

Scott caught it. “What the hell?”

Gordon was dead twice over and he didn’t even know it.

“You better get back to your ‘bird. The sky’s going to open up any minute and we should probably be above it rather than below it.” Virgil poked at the weather read out. It was only a weather front, nothing compared to the cyclone forces the Thunderbirds were capable of tackling. “You might get wet.”

Scott was still glaring at the model in his hand. A distracted grunt.

Gordon was definitely dead.

Possibly more than twice.

“Okay, less imaginary brother murders and more getting back to your ‘bird.”

“Huh?”

Yeah, so now who was zoning out?

Virgil nudged his brother onto the hatch platform and stepped on himself, lowering it onto the red dust again.

He stepped off the deck plates just as the first fat rain drops started to hit the dust.

Damn. “Too late.” And as if he had given the sky permission, it really opened up.

Water hit dry earth in big splats, puffs of red rose only to be taken down by more rain. The stipple of water fast became patches and then the land deepened in colour. The bright iron red darkened almost to a burgundy. The spinifex he had so finely painted not half an hour earlier, shifted from a yellow ochre to a gold that almost glowed in the remnant light.

As Scott stepped up beside him, secure under the protection of Two’s nose, the landscape bleached suddenly and the sky grumbled and cracked. The air smelt of ozone and the sharp evaporation of precipitation in the heat. But there was more water than the air or the earth could take and it puddled in the indents between the rocks.

Some kind of thorny lizard darted out from a tuft of spinifex and hurried under the shelter of Two beside the brothers. At the lack of the rain on its back, it looked up as if surprised. Two reptilian eyes stared at them before darting back out into the rain.

Scott took another step forward and Virgil put a hand on his arm.

“You’re not going to try to run through that.”

“I’ve got to get back to One.”

“Why?”

“Because…” His brother trailed off.

Virgil squeezed his arm gently. “Take a minute. This is a desert storm. It will be short lived. We can wait.”

Blue eyes stared at him.

Okay, so waiting wasn’t part of Scott Tracy’s genome.

“Take a minute. Watch.” Virgil turned back to the storm and revelled in the release of the tension that had been building for the last couple of hours. He watched the rain hit the earth, the patterns, the dance of spinifex leaves. He listened to the roar, the wet splat against cahelium, the sigh as the water disappeared into the grass and the grumbles in the clouds.

Scott eventually turned to look and, for a short while there, they were just a couple of brothers staring out at the storm.

The fact they were sheltering underneath one of the most advanced technological creations on the planet was unimportant.

“This is all your fault, you know.” Scott’s voice was soft.

A grunt. “I think Gordon’s is the more likely culprit.”

“If you hadn’t stopped to paint, we’d be home by now.”

Virgil didn’t answer immediately. He took a breath. “But then we would have missed this.”

At that moment the sun finally hit the horizon and slipped through a gap in the clouds to light up the wet landscape in gold. Rain still fell, but it was as if it was liquid sunlight failing from the sky. Water glistened on everything and the clouds lit up from underneath.

Thunder rumbled in clouds turning pink in the east.

“Yeah, we would.” But the acknowledgement was distracted as Scott stared at the spectacle.

Perhaps they had something for which to thank Gordon. It was a moment that they would never have experienced if Virgil hadn’t had to stop.

He breathed in the freshened air and let it out with a relaxing sigh.

No.

Gordon was still dead.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy

35 notes · View notes

dulcaet · 4 years

Text

paint my heart | yoongi

synopsis. you should have known that, over time, paint crumbles, and that time spare no one, not even the colors adorning your heart.

pairing. yoongi | reader genre. angst word count. 2,043 warnings. none

initially, there had been only an immensity of white. a simple, but gigantic, empty canvas ready to be offered to those wishing to add to it the most beautiful colors that existed.

the life you lived was lulled by neutral feelings; your smiles were real but not bright, your eyes lit but not sparkling. the days were passing by, some slowly, others more quickly. they were chaining each other to the rhythm of the clock hands in your kitchen. the work you had managed to get was perfectly supporting you financially and you took great pleasure in learning what the profession of a sound engineer consisted of. everything was fine. but everything could be better. and everything would become soon. unfortunately, you didn’t know that yet.

you'd never consider your life boring, but sometimes monotony could be hard to bear. it, who always stood behind you, like your shadow, to remind you of the lack of laughter, smiles, adventure in an empty, gray life.

weeks, and months passed, that infinity of white still painting your mind. no painter had put his brush on your canvas, not coloring it with pearly, colorful hues, which would form the most beautiful of the artwork: that of a fulfilling life.

then, suddenly, there was an infinite number of colors. a palette covered with paintings all different from each other. blue. green. yellow. red. purple. one had been searched for the most beautiful pigments in the world, carefully making from them colors that all the greatest painters could have envied.

it had started as a normal day, a day tinted in white. you had stopped in the break room to drink your coffee before climbed to the third floor to reach the studio where your superior was waiting for you. the habit having taken over the rest, you had not knocked, judging that your arrival had already been announced a few seconds earlier by a message from your part.

maybe you should have.

“i’m really sorry, i didn’t think this studio would be busy!”

nervousness had taken hold of your heart, dragging it into a frantic waltz. a man sitting on a sofa whose upper body was leaning towards the coffee table had turned to the door squeaking. a pen in the hand, fingers stained with ink, glasses placed on the nose. this face, no, this portrait perfectly drawn by the hand of the most talented painters, you had seen and seen it again. on social media, in advertisements, on youtube. not a day had passed without you noticing this face so beautifully carved.

and he had been standing in front of your astonished face.

he had smiled with all the kindness present in the world and had looked at the time on his watch before apologizing for exceeding the scheduled hour.

“hello.”

this exact moment was your first meeting with min yoongi. the first of dozens of others.

a smile drawn on your two faces, fingers intertwined, the streets of capital had never looked so pretty. the yellow of the streetlights, the orange of the car flashers, the red of the store signs. the moon at its highest point reflected your candid faces, illuminating it in white and pastel blue. she was watching you, smiling at this birth of love.

adoration was a feeling whose aura could almost be seen as powerful as it was. these heartbeats rhythmed in unison, these candid laughs, all these little special touches reinforced the beauty of the idyllic picture that was painting in front of the moon’s eyes.

“yoongi, look!”

one hand holding your straw hat so it wouldn’t fly away, the other pointing to a multi-colored bird on a tree branch whose leaves were colored with a resplendent green hue. the smell of freshly cut grass intoxicated passers-by, plunging them into a euphoria that only summer could provoke. this feeling of being invincible, encouraged by the rays of the sun whose reflections chase away the patches of shadows, the bad memories. the five silk trees formed a globe as enchanting above the park letting these so-called rays of light pass through. the sweet pale pink flowers lowered themselves and rose to the rhythm of the wind oh so quiet.

summer was your favorite season, it was synonymous with holidays, sunshine, tranquility. happy to be able to enjoy the good weather, little laughs escaped from your lips without you noticing.

the characteristic noise of a camera caught your attention. turning your head, eyes obstructed by strands of hair, your gaze rested on the man standing a few meters from you. he was smiling at his screen, fiddling with the buttons of the device. curious, it was with a bouncing step that you walked towards him, making your light white and pink dress twirl. arriving at his height, you lean towards him, tiptoeing to see what seemed to hypnotize him. a grimace on your face, you quickly put a hand on the screen to hide the picture.

“delete it! i’m hideous!”

“don’t say things that are impossible.”

the pupils trembling, you watched the surroundings, hoping to see yoongi’s silhouette. you had begun waiting more than three-quarters of an hour ago on the forecourt of the restaurant where you had booked a table two months ago. there was no apparent reason for this event, if not to celebrate your love. it had been several days since you had seen him because of his rehearsals, so, excited to finally spend an evening with him, you had got all dressed up.

however, the soft light of day had darkened, giving way to this vast world called the night. the delight that had hitherto decorated your face, making it up in the prettiest of ways, for joy had this powerful power, had disappeared, dropping that mask on the concrete ground. as the dim light of the streetlamp illuminated you, all the gravity of your face increased, painting a face of sorrow.

one hand was rubbing your upper arm, the wind chilling you, the other furiously tapping on your phone’s keyboard.

me to yoongi ♡

where are you?

helloooo?

please respond! it’s cold out there.

well????

yoongi ♡ to me

something came up. don’t wait for me. grab yourself something, i’ll pay.

a lump appeared in your throat, as did the pain that pierced your heart. you remained still, however, letting it spread in the hope that this horrible sensation would go away if not interrupted. what you did not know, for love blinded the heart and confused the thoughts, was that a piece of the first one was now laying at your feet.

a drop of grey paint fell on the canvas, staining the blue sky adorned with white clouds.

the clock above the kitchen counter reminded you how pathetic you were, standing until way too late at night in hope of catching sight of the man’s face you had got into the habit of calling your boyfriend. if you could still define him like this. a silence had taken place in the empty apartment, a silence that even seoul’s frenetic life could not break. you were sitting on the couch with your eyes staring at nothing but void. your pupils previously illuminated by the candor of love were no more than two impenetrable walls. you seemed empty, as empty as a hollow shell. your inner state represented the vision your apartment gave. whether it was the pieces of furniture, the frames hanging on the wall or the decorative plants; all were tinged in the same gouache.

nowadays, the colors had worn out. overtime, you supposed. time was, after all, one of the main enemies of love, especially when it became rare.

oh, how much you hated gray. it colored your life with a monotonous color where everything seemed sad, an impression so different from the explosion of colors that your retina had become accustomed to seeing. there was nothing but grey. grey everywhere. in your body, in your eyes, in your heart. the latter seemed to have been impregnated with it. it would not be surprising to see the normally red carmine liquid flowing through your veins turn into a grey color. a plain grey, without any reflection; there wasn’t light anymore.

no more conversations until late at night. no more encouraging little messages on your nightstand. no more signs of affection, whether expressed in the form of a kiss, an embrace or even a smile.

there was nothing left.

nothing more except a weariness that did not seem to want to leave your life. it was now an integral part of your routine. many times, you had wondered if you had become paranoid. yoongi was a busy man. everyone knew this detail about him, you knew about this and for a long time, this detail had been one of the reasons for your reluctance to engage yourself in this relationship. this fear, which was ubiquitous at each moment of your life. this fear was flowing in your veins. the fear of being sidelined.

for more than a year, he had succeeded in proving you wrong. he had shown you that even though his career was a source of significant demands and that his schedule would always be a delicate thing, the love he had for you would overcome that.

he had forgotten to point out that all these wonders would only last a while, the attractive illusion giving way to the harsh reality.

things had changed.

suddenly, as if in slow motion, your face, which had lowered in defeat, rose up when you heard the door open. without you being able to control your body, your eyes began to sparkle, your pupils dilated, your heart racing. overtime, through missed appointments, repeated absences, nights alone, you had learned to hate these physical reactions. how sad it was to achieve such a critical stage that your only possibility was to hate the love you had for him.

he did not undress nor did he take off his coat, merely heading to your room, whose sheets now seemed constantly frozen. not a look. not a word. it was almost as if you were just a mirage, something that didn’t exist or that wasn’t interesting enough to deserve attention.

“don’t wait for me, i’ll be late.”

the door was slammed, silence set in, a silence that was cut off by your sobs. you were crying, more than you had ever done in your life. in your tears came all the frustration, the sadness but also the pain that a lost love could cause to an already weakened heart. your thoughts were black, blacker than the ocean after a hurricane, your mind filled with disarming memories.

two long minutes passed. the grey darken. you swallowed, holding back a trembling sigh that reflected your sorrow. with your eyes focused again on your stress-bit nails, you ignored him when he came out of the room with a bag on his shoulders. this scene was recurrent, so recurrent that it was certain you could play it in your head. knowing this, no ounce of surprise crossed your mind when he uttered that sentence. that damn sentence.

someone once said, “happiness is screamed, sadness is written.”

you had always known how to transcribe your emotions perfectly on the paper. however, today, for the first time in your life, you faced a writer’s block. the page was blank of words, not strong enough to describe what you were feeling. a page that was soon flooded with tears, the revenge of this sadness that had been held back for too long.

min yoongi had never been yours. not even for a second. you should have known this. it had been obvious. you should have known his heart belonged to music.

with each of the tears that wet the notebook, making the black ink drool, it permeated the immensity of paper until there was only one color left to the eyes of everyone.

the canvas had now become black.

140 notes · View notes

mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years

Text

say it will always be like this

Seregil decides it's time for Alec to learn the subtle art of make up. And he has a few ways to make it more interesting.

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment over on Ao3 if you liked this, it really helps motivate writers particularly in small fandoms like this one!

Seregil had taught Alec a wide variety of skills in the time they’d been together. From coercing locks to open to walking like a noble, from scaling walls ten times as tall as he was with no foothold in sight to navigating the baffling arsenal of cutlery that would be set before him as standard practise at the palace. Skills that would save his life, skills that would take the life of someone else and more than a few skills that were only to be used within the gauzy canopy of their own bed. Alec, always sharp and hungry to learn, had taken to every one with his usual endearing eagerness, tackling everything from swordplay to chardsharping and giving himself to it completely until he was as good as Seregil. Maybe even better, in some cases.

But this was the first time he’d ever seen his talímenios look truly, completely nervous.

Seregil had to laugh, seeing his face as he opened the box between them and began laying the multitude of products within out on the bed. It was rather daunting, he supposed, when you saw how much was contained within a standard well born lady’s cosmetics chest.

But there was just something so adorable about the way he immediately flushed and began to squirm, especially when Seregil’s laughter broke through the professional air he’d been trying so hard to maintain.

“Oh hush…” he begged, ducking his head into his collar, the tips of his ears as red as if he’d been walking around in the snow currently falling outside their bedroom window with no hat.

Seregil tried to marshal his trembling shoulders and the giggles bursting in his chest like champagne bubbles, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You’re just so adorable when you’re flustered like this…”

“You’re not helping!” he’d now yanked the fabric of his loose evening shirt as high as his nose and Seregil had to reach between them and coax it back down.

“Hey now, talí…” he left his fingers where they were even when Alec had resurfaced, caressing his friend’s cheek with soft fingertips, “It’s just another skill, another weapon in any nightrunner’s arsenal. You wouldn’t believe the doors that a dress and a bit of rouge can open. And with your lovely braid, it’s the perfect time for you to learn!”

Alec sighed, clearly sinking any lingering traces of his strict Danlan upbringing as best he could, “I know…”

“And besides,” Seregil’s grin turned crooked the way it only did when he was out to pay court to his lover, something he still made a point of doing even now they’d been married in all but name for months and months, “I know you’re going to look beautiful in it.”

That clearly snagged Alec’s attention and soon he was blushing for an entirely different reason, a softer and more playful kind of heat in his face, “Oh come on.”

“I mean it! Once I’ve taught you, you’ll be lucky if I ever actually Jelet you use this disguise. You’ll have every man with a working set of eyes from miles around nipping at your heels.”

It was Alec’s turn to laugh, shaking his head so a few strands of his blonde hair fell across his face, his braid starting to unravel as it always did in the evenings after a day of wear, “You’re such a fool, talí.”

“Fair. Doesn’t make me wrong though, does it?”

Now his love was smiling, he sat back and turned his attention to the products on the bed between them. He’d sorted them into groups based on what they did, what part of the face they were used for. First would come the instruction, then the application. Alec always learned best through touch.

“This is pretty much a standard set of makeup for a Skalan woman of fairly high society. Not high enough to attract attention, mind you, but certainly well to do.”

“Standard?” Alec looked at the spread with a mix of apprehension and awe, “There’s so much!”

“Precisely,” Seregil chuckled, “The pressures put on women these days are quite staggering. And unfortunately for us, if we’re to pass as women then we need to rise to meet those pressures.”

He held up a small pan between them, “This is a fairly common face powder, made for paling and smoothing the skin. Mind where you buy this when your stock runs low, some of the cheaper suppliers have started mixing the stuff with lead paint, of all things.”

“I suppose corpses are very pale?” Alec sniffed, taking the box from Seregil and turning it over in his hands, opening it up and rubbing a little of the chalky powder onto his finger, “How do I put it on?”

“With this,” Seregil held up a brush, “Finest horse hair. Here, I’ll do half of your face so you can get a feel for it, then you finish it off.”

Alec gave a last groan of protest, though he paid close attention to how Seregil tapped the fine dark brush into the powder and let his eyes close without complaint, leaning close.

Seregil had thought, with the weather in Rhiminee being so stubbornly awful, all sleet and snow and howling winds, this would be a good lesson to fill a cosy evening in. And he’d been right. While the flakes fell just outside the glass, their room was filled with gently glowing candles and the fire could be heard crackling in the sitting room just beyond the door. The smell of the mulled wine they’d been drinking still hung on the warm air, filling their bedroom with the scents of cherries, cloves, cinnamon and nutmeg. It was on Alec’s breath too, as he exhaled softly, not wanting to move his face too much while Seregil carefully applied the powder. There was something so soft and relaxed about his face in that moment, cast in gently flitting shadows by the candlelight that, as soon as he was done, Seregil pressed his lips to his lover’s in a sweet kiss.

Alec was grinning when he pulled away, “What was that about?”

Seregil smirked, “I haven’t put your lip paint on yet, it’s allowed. Right, can you see what I’ve done?” He pulled the looking glass he’d taken off the wall into his lap so Alec could see his face, now half an eerie bone white, “Concentrate on getting it settled into the creases of your eye and nose.”

Alec pulled a face at his reflection but took up the brush, mimicking Seregil’s movements as best he could. It wasn’t a bad effort at all, he only had to redo a few parts that he missed, just behind his ear and under his jaw.

Seregil gave him a fondly annoyed smile. Was there nothing his talímenios wasn’t excellent at?

Next came the eyes, a more delicate affair. This required a completely different brush, a kohl pencil, the coloured dust made from dried and ground flowers. Again, Seregil did one eye so Alec could see what was required of him, then let him complete the set in the mirror.

Alec was soon frowning, “This is so fiddly, like sprininging a tumble lock that trembles. And my eyes keep watering!”

Seregil grinned, “Think of it like you’re pulling your bow. Your hands never shake then, do they?”

“Because I know what i’m doing with my bow,” Alec grumbled, a little petulantly, cursing and having to restart the kohl when his hand slipped, “Billiary’s balls!”

“Patience, talí,” Seregil smiled, “We have all evening. You’ll get the hang of it.”

Finally, after three attempts, Alec had two passably matching eyes, ringed in thick black kohl with lids shaded a deep, sultry red. And Seregil was starting to realise just how right he’d been at the start.

Alec had always been beautiful to him, of course. Whether he was tricked up as his noble alter ego, in the finest silks with his hair neatly queued, or whether he was rough from weeks on the road, dust in his hair and days away from his last bath in anything but a half frozen stream, his lover would always be the most gorgeous man in the world as far as Seregil was concerned. The cosmetics, combined with the candlelight, only emphasised what he’d always seen on his talímenios’ face, like everything he’d always admired was being edged in gold.

Now Seregil was left wondering why he’d waited so long to give Alec this particular lesson.

“Lips next,” he said, bringing himself back to the task at hand. He could do something with the feelings stirring inside him later. What kind of teacher would he be to only give half a lesson?

Now he’d mastered the eyes, Alec seemed to be getting more confident by the moment. He sniffed the lip paint with genuine interest, admiring it’s deep red colour.

“It’s pigmented with crushed berries and beetle’s wings,” Seregil smiled, he loved satisfying his lover’s curiosity, “Which makes it pretty expensive so, in a pinch, you can rub a cut lemon on your lips. That’ll make them look redder and a little fuller.”

Alec looked dumbfounded then laughed in disbelief, “This is like learning a code! All these secrets and tricks, I had no idea...”

Seregil snorted, “I knew you’d get to liking this. Now, keep your mouth relaxed, don’t tighten up or the paint will crack. There, that’s it…”

Once again, the barely there distance between them as Seregil leaned in and carefully painted his lower lip struck him, the closeness, the attentiveness as Seregil’s focus shrank down utterly to Alec’s body. And this time, he wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“I suppose you can’t kiss me now…” Alec murmured, voice a little lower and a little rougher.

Seregil was so close, he could practically hear his heartbeat, smell the scent of wood air and musk that was so completely Alec.

Sergeil grinned, heat in his own cheeks now. If any of his friends on the Street of Lights learned that this sweet faced, shy smiling Northerner could actually get the infamous Seregil í Korit to blush with scent alone, his reputation was ruined. And in the moment, he didn’t think he cared.

“Not until after our lesson,” he smiled regretfully, sitting up and handing the brush to Alec, a drop of red stain falling on his fingers as he did so, “Then, my talí, that lip paint is getting places it absolutely was never intended for.”

Even the thick layer of white paint couldn’t hide how red Alec got at that promise. Clearly Seregil hadn’t lost sight of himself entirely.

Despite his new distraction, Alec completed his lips perfectly and, after a dusting of rouge and painting over some of his veins in blue ink, he was as perfectly made up as any woman in the Noble Quarter of Rhiminee. Of course Seregil would teach him what to accentuate to make his face look more femenine, working with his natural faie features to create the full effect so he’d pass even under a critical eye. But for now, he simply looked beautiful, ethereal and otherworldly.

Alec grinned, feeling the heat in Seregil’s gaze. Even after he’d finished his rouge, Seregil hadn’t moved back. A bare inch and they’d be kissing. Suddenly, the candles seemed to be burning lower and the air had gotten warmer, closer, like before the tension broke and the rain began to fall.

And then a glint of pure wickedness entered Alec’s innocent blue eyes, “So...am I prettier than Lady Gwethylyn?”

Sergeil’s jaw dropped for a moment before he gathered himself gave a low, throaty chuckle, casting the powders and brushes and tins to the floor so he could advance on Alec, pinning him back against the cushions.

“Oh, talí, you’re in trouble now.”

Afterwards, Seregil took a lot of pleasure in standing before the much larger mirror placed against the far wall, scanning his body for the smudges of red and charcoal black and white like the gentlest snowfall, a map of how Alec had hungrily explored him, giving as much as he’d gotten for that comment.

Alec sat up in bed behind him, admiring his work too. Seregil could see him in the mirror and returned his smug smile before turning to crawl back onto the bed.

“All your hard work…” he murmured with a sigh of mock regret, touching one very badly smudged cheek.

“Well, now I get to practise again,” Alec grinned, clearly hoping, the same as Seregil, that it would lead to another evening like this one.

Seregil reached over and snagged his own shirt from where it had been carelessly tossed to the floor hours before. He used it to gently wipe away the last lingering traces of the makeup, where it still clung on determinedly at his eyes and his high, thin cheekbones.

And then there was his Alec. No inks or powders or crushed flowers, just his own soft blue eyes and gentle, shy smile and messy, flyaway hair the colour of summer wheat.

For once, Seregil allowed himself to say exactly what was in his heart, without any hesitation.

“You don’t need any of that to be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

The way Alec’s eyes deepened and creased so perfectly in the corners, the way a smile of uncomplicated joy lighted on his face, the way that he believed Seregil so completely in that moment made him glad he’d chosen this lesson for today. Because if there was anything he wished he could teach his lover, it was to see himself the way Seregil saw him.

#nightrunners #nightrunner series #seregil x alec #alec x seregil #seregil i korit #alec i amasa #lynn flewelling #fluff #some very light smut #look I started reading the white road and I just need these boys to be happy for a second #please reblog!#please comment!

32 notes · View notes

thatwitchyaunt · 4 years

Text

Makeup for Magick/Ritual: Imbolc

So, this is a post that got taken own off of reddit because, apparently, a post about makeup as a tool in witchcraft is not... about... witchcraft? Okay? Anyway, this is the copy/paste of the original first post and the rest of this series will be here, so I hope you enjoy. And to anyone coming here from r/witchcraft, welcome to the absolute hot mess that is The Whatever Book!

“Well, here we go! The first post in (hopefully) a series that some of you were surprisingly interested in! Not gonna lie, I thought it would get a bunch of downvotes and that'd be that, but here we are! Before I start, quick disclaimer: My current phone is a 3S, so the pictures aren't the... best quality. But it's what we're working with. Now let's get into it!

So, quick cheeky recap of what I said in my original post: My other passion besides witchcraft is makeup. It's how I express myself artistically and I often use themed makeup looks as a way to celebrate the sabbats, doubling as offerings on Imbolc and Lammas/Lughnasadh. Sometimes, I even incorporate themed looks into spellwork in the same way I would decorate an intention-specific altar. (I fully blame Ms. Frizzle for my love of themed/inspired-by makeup looks, btw.) Now let's get into the post! First sabbat: Imbolc.

Generally, my rituals focus on the more fiery aspect of Lady Brighid on Imbolc; so reds, oranges and yellows are what I reach for. Depending on what you focus on (cleansing/purification, healing, the returning warmth, prep for Spring, new growth, etc), what you choose may be way different. So lets take a peek at the palettes I have in my collection that I can see fitting this coming up sabbat, starting with Colourpop!

Here we have the "Uh Huh, Honey" palette, the "Orange You Glad?" palette and the "Main Squeeze" palette. I'd use these three together for my more fiery looks, but "Uh Huh, Honey" could be paired with a more icy look if your focus is on the returning warmth.

Speaking of! This is the "Going Coconuts" palette, "Blue Moon" palette, "Mint to Be" palette and "Just My Luck" palette.

"Going Coconuts" is definitely a good, affordable neutral palette for Imbolc. It's neutral, but can lean on the icier side thanks to the shade "Palm Reader". Add a pop of yellow from the "Uh Huh, Honey" palette and you're set for a "returning warmth" look.

Then there's the "Blue Moon" and "Mint to Be" palettes, which are both good for the more healing/cleansing aspects of Imbolc. "Blue Moon" can go icy (and be paired with "Uh Huh, Honey" for the returning warmth), or can be used to represent Brighid's healing/cleansing waters. The shades in "Mint to Be" are somewhere between wintery greens and spring greens, so perfect for Imbolc! These mints give me very "fresh and clean" vibes, and also would not be out of place on a set of nurse scrubs. More gentle healing than "Blue Moon".

"Just My Luck" is your girl if you're going for the green of "new growth". Try pairing with "Mint to Be" for a more interesting green look.

The last CP palette I'd look at is the "Yes, Please" palette. It's a descent dupe for the Give Me Glow "Extra Spicy" palette if it's sold out. This is Colourpop's original eyeshadow palette and has those fiery tones I reach for this time of year.

Then, onto the Give Me Glow palettes, there's the "Extra Spicy" palette. I would reach for this one over the "Yes, Please" palette, because it's a better formula and is multi-functional. "Mild", "Spicy Peach Martini" and "Habanero" make for really great blushes and "Ghost Pepper" is a really cool fiery-yellow highlighter. This is being discontinued, however, so If you want it you need to grab it while you can. 10/10, would absolutely recommend!

Next is "The Grunge" palette and the "Sweet & Sticky" palette. Both are descent neutral/nude palettes for this time of year (if you aren't like me and are down for to look like a "Happy Clown") "The Grunge" palette has some interesting matte pops and has two metallics that could lean either warm or cool depending on what you pair with it. It's currently out of stock, and I'm not sure if it's coming back? This past Black Friday, they had it labeled as "discontinued" but I'm not 100% sure.

"Sweet & Sticky" is a cinnamon bun themed palette, and the colors are spot on! I absolutely consider cinnamon buns to be an appropriate food for Imbolc, what with the white icing (melting snow) paired with the cinnamon filling (warmth) in the roll (earth). An excellent small palette for neutral lovers, and "Icing Drip" and "Sweet Cinnamon Latte" are good highlighters depending on your skin tone.

The last Give Me Glow palette is the "Summer Vibes" palette! Specifically for the shades "Orange Soda Pop", "Mango Margarita" and "Sunny". Again, for the fiery aspect of the Sabbat. All the shades in this palette are available in singles, but I'd say just get the palette if you're interested in it. This will definitely come up again in my post for Litha/Summer Solstice, no doubt about it.

Now onto BH Cosmetics! We'll start with the two bigger palettes I chose this time around: "The Zodiac" palette and the Holiday 2020 "Naughty" palette. "The Zodiac" is a that cool with a pop of warm that fots the Sabbat, and the formula is gorgeous! The middle shade is a baked highlighter as well, and looks great on fair/light skintones (don't ask me about deeper skin tones, since I'm out here looking like Casper the Friendly Ghost and have absolutely no clue).

The "Naughty" palette... I'd say it's the only holiday palette that I've seen in the past few years that a brand actually put any real thought and effort into. And the formula's 10/10, so well done, BH! If you want to do a warm tone or cool toned Imbolc look, it's got you. If you want to do a fiery look, it's got you. If you want to do an icy with a pop of fire look, it's got you. It can be used all year round, too, which is pretty great, and you can use it as a sort of anchor palette for different looks. The day I'm writing this (January 18-19, 2021) it's on sale for 60% off, so only $12, and I honestly think you should snatch it up. Definitely going to be showing up in my Yule/Winter Solstice post.

On to the smaller BH palettes! First batch are "Love in London", "Smitten in Switzerland" and "Chillin' in Chicago". These are the three more neutral/"wearable" (eff, I hate that word) palettes in the BH Travel Series. There are a couple more like this, but they'll pop up in later posts.

"Love in London" can go either warm or cool depending on the shades you use, but either way, the tones are deep enough to fit the winter season we're still in.

"Smitten in Switzerland" is more cool-toned, muted-colorful palette with a bright pop. My favorite sage green eyeshadow look is from this palette. Outside of any Sabbat uses, I genuinely cooked up an entire scenario based solely on the vibes of the palette. Like, this is the palette you'd wear if the world was no longer on fire, and you and your family decided to go to a ski lodge for a weekend. You're no winter sports kind of Witch, no skiing or snowboarding for you (you're not here to break all the bones in your body so, hard pass). Instead, you sit by the lodge's fireplace/hearth wearing a cute and cozy sweater, perhaps some cute boots. Maybe you're reading a book or on a laptop/phone/whatever with a mug filled with a hot beverage of your choice, possibly spiked. And there you stay, looking like a cute snow bunny while you wait for the rest of your family to be done nearly getting themselves killed on the slopes.

*Cough cough* Now back to the post... Eh-heh...

"Chillin' in Chicago" is the palette to grab for a muted fiery look. Still has some color to it, but nothing as intense as, lets say, the "Extra Spicy" palette. Great alternative.

Now for the two bright/colorful palettes from BH's Weekend Vibes series. "Avocado Toast" and "Blueberry Muffin". "Avocado Toast" has your greens/warm browns with a pink and yellow pop that'd work great for any "new growth" symbolism. Meanwhile, for my fellow New Englanders, "Blueberry Muffin" gives us those more icy tones for the foot of snow we usually get on, or around, Imbolc. Any other New England Witches just look at that whole "new growth" bit when they first got started and went "B!tch, how?!" ...No? Just me? Side note, "Decadent" is the exact shade of the stain from blueberry juice and that made me idiotically happy. Don't ask, cause I don't know either.

The Shroud Cosmetics "Creepy Cute" palette! Widely considered one of the best pastel palettes on the market (Use code BEAUTBEAN fo 10% off! Did I just plug one of my favorite beauty YouTubers Why yes, yes I did...), it's insanely pigmented! "Void", "Tombstone", "Creep It Real", and "Cold Shoulder" can help you with colder, more wintery looks. "Cold Shoulder" and "Creep It Real" could be used for healing/purification if that's your ritual focus, and "Third Eye" and "Strawberry Milk" could both be used as crease/blending shades for a more fore-based look.

These three are my mainstream "if color is not your jam" palettes. The Tarte "Tartelette Toasted" palette, and the Anastasia Beverly Hills "Soft Glam" palette and "Sultry" palette.

The "Tartelette Toasted" palette is your neutral fiery palette. It gives a nice orange-red "toasted" look that fits the Sabbat well. Not my first choice, but if you're looking for a "basic b!tch" warm palette, she's your girl.

"Soft Glam" and "Sultry" are more warm tone vs. cool tone. If you want a more "cold, thawing earth" vibe, "Sultry" is the way to go. If you want to get it, I think it's only available in bundles on Ulta and the ABH website (but it's like.. half off in Ulta sooooo....). And "Soft Glam", obviously, for the warmer aspects of the Sabbat.

Now, on to my single shadows!

The top five are from Shroud Cosmetics. The first four (left to right) would be good for a fiery look), while the last one would be good to use for a water look/pop.

"World Eater" (Drool-worthy metallic red), "Ignite" (coppery orange metallic), "Vigil" (yellow-gold metallic), "Oracle" (light gold "inner corner highlight" type of metallic), "Sea of Ghosts" (medium blue metallic with a gold shift).

The bottom one is from Colourpop in the shade "Glass Bull", which is the perfect inner corner highlight for icier blue/purple looks.

Last, but certainly not least, my Give Me Glow Singles!

The amount of times I had to curate these singles so they would fit into one large palette.. I just... That's why this took three years to figure out. Anyways, I have a few different color stories in this palette, so stick with me more a second.

*Row 1 (L-R)*

"Marshmallow" - White matte. Pretty basic.

"Halo" - White metallic with baby blue and gold shifts. Perfect inner corner pop of sun for icy looks.

"Satellite" - Straight up silver metallic. If the Tin Man is your fashion icon, this'll do ya.

"Bubbles" - Icy blue metallic.

"Sky High" - Bright sky blue matte. Not pictured because mine came broken, but it's legit the perfect Imbolc blue.

"Blue Jeans" - Muted grey-blue metallic.

*Row 2 (L-R)*

"Cream Please" - Basic cream shade.

"Spring Break" - Green-blue with gold shift.

"Kiwi" - Kiwi Green. What it says on the tin.

"Joker" - Olive green metallic with lime undertones.

"Patty"- Just a true green matte.

"Space Dust" - Deep Smokey true grey.

*Row 3 (L-R)*

"On Ice" - Pale champagne nude metallic.

"Highlight" - Pale champagne gold metallic.

"Lucky Charm" - Golden yellow metallic.

"Fierce" - Pale orangy peach matte.

"You're Cheesy" - Mac and cheese orange metallic.

"Low Battery" - True red orange matte, more on the red side.

*Row 4 (L-R)*

"Selfie" - Burnt golden orange metallic.

"Hashtag" - Grungy medium toned orange matte.

"Chili" - Deep blue based rusty red matte.

"Icy Frap" - Icy warm champagne metallic with taupe undertones.

"Iced Coffee" - Deep bronze gold metallic.

"Dark as My Soul" - Grungy deep warm brown matte.

Now on to the color stories:

*Color Story 1* Icy Blue with a sunny gold pop on the inner corner (returning warmth)

Marshmallow, Halo, Satellite, Bubbles, Sky High, Blue Jeans, Space Dust.

*Color Story 2* Greens (new growth)

Cream Please, Spring Break, Kiwi, Joker, Patty, Space Dust, On Ice.

*Color Story 3* Brighid's Fire

Highlight, Lucky Charm, Fierce, You're Cheesy, Low Battery

*Color Story 4* Warming earth (warm tone browns)

Selfie, Hashtag, Chili, Cream Please, Highlight.

*Color Story 5* Frozen earth (cool tone browns)

Icy Frap, Iced Coffee, Dark as My Soul, Marshmallow, Halo.

And that's that for Imbolc! Holy crap, that took ages! The pictured do not do these shadows justice. One day I'll have a phone with a properly functioning camera...

Well, Glamour Ghouls (you can boo me, it's fine), it's your turn to shop your stash and get those creative juices flowing! Is there anything in your collection that you'd grab for Imbolc? Sound off in the comments and let's inspire each other!”

#Makeup for Magick/Ritual #imbolc #are all mods power tripping assholes?#or just the one i had to deal with?#travel witchcraft #sabbats #broom closet #witchcraft #magick #rituals

6 notes · View notes

mycatshuman · 5 years

Text

Show Yourself

(Part 2)

Pairings: Remus, slight Princiety, hinted Logicality

Warnings: Remus and Deceit, if I missed any please let me know.

Thank you @icequeenoriginal for reading through this for me.

Masterlist | Into The Unknown (Part 1)

------

Virgil sat on his bed, his mind reeling from the events of the past week. Between him ducking out, the others coming to his room, being accepted, having to rescue them, and telling them his name, he was mentally exhausted. But he was feeling better. And he realized that him ducking out would not work for Thomas. And no matter what anyone may say, he cared for his host and his well being. And if him ducking out caused Thomas to be careless than he couldn't do that.

Despite the other main sides finally accepting him, he was still uneasy. People couldn't accept people on a dime, and he knew that. He wasn't stupid. But they were working on it and that's all he could ask really. He wasn't entirely innocent either. He did snark back and put up a tough wall. And he was going to work on not being so mean.

The voice still bothered him. Especially when he ducked out. It was so loud and hurt his ears so much that even if the other main sides didn't come for him, Jake and Remus would have forced him to go back for the sake of his eardrums. It had since lessened. Which Virgil was eternally grateful for, although, it still called out to him. But soon, that would change.

-------

They had just finished filming the Accepting Anxiety videos. Logan and Roman had suggested that accepting anxiety was an important topic to cover in Thomas's scripted series Sanders Sides. Virgil kind of liked the series. Sure it did nearly mirror some real-life occurrences but he was comfortable knowing the series would mostly follow a different storyline from their actual lines.

So Virgil was happy. He had been accepted and the other sides allowed Jake and Remus to visit him sometimes. They even invited them to join in on family nights. So all in all, Virgil was pretty happy with how his life was going. Until he woke up that morning. He looked in the mirror, did a double-take, and then screamed.

The door to his room burst open and a tired-looking Roman tumbled in with his sword shouting, "Where's the danger?"

Virgil startled. He took a few minutes to compose himself before he yelled, "LOOK AT MY FUCKING HAIR!!"

Roman paused and blinked as he took in the anxious sides' hair. His face blushed a deep red as he went through a serious case of gay panic. Virgil, meanwhile, was in a similar boat as he took in Roman's newly purpled bedhead. Oh fuck, he's hot!

"Oh-uh.." Roman struggled to pull a sentence together. "Thomas..I think he got his hair dyed.."

Virgil blinked. Once. Twice. And then he groaned and hit his head against his dresser. Roman yelped and dropped his sword before rushing forward to stop the emo side from hurting himself.

"What are you doing?!?" He screeched.

Virgil mumbled incoherently into the wood as he let his headrest. "I'm trying to knock myself out so I don't risk negative judgment."

Roman frowned. "Virgil, surely you know we wouldn't judge you." Virgil shrugged. Roman bit his lip before pulling Virgil upright. "Come on, let me look." Virgil stood up reluctantly. Roman had to refrain from sighing dreamily. The plum-colored locks fell over Virgil's eyes and stood out beautifully against his skin. "Virgil...you..you look beautiful." Virgil flushed bright red as Roman took a couple of seconds to realize what he just said. His eyes blew wide as he tried to cover up his feelings. "I mean, your hair, your hair! Looks very nice! And beautiful. I mean you both look beautiful! I um, it's really nice?"

Virgil giggled lightly as he hid his smile behind his hand and Roman fell deeper in love. "Okay, I think I got it." He grabbed his clothes out of his dresser moving to the bathroom to take a shower before stopping and looking back at Roman. "Ro?"

Roman paused in picking up his sword. "Yes, Virgil?"

"Your hair looks nice too," Virgil told him shyly before turning and going into the bathroom.

Roman nearly squealed. His crush had told him he looked good! He danced around a little before freezing. "Wait…." His eyes blew wide and he raced into his room only to let out a wail at the purple mop atop his head.

-----

The sides all sat in the family room. Roman had wanted to discuss something he had been thinking of that he wanted them all to try out. "Okay, so I've been thinking, maybe our wardrobes need an upgrade!"

Virgil, Logan, and Jake shared a blank face as Remus and Patton let out equal shouts of excitement. "Why do we need an upgrade in our wardrobes?" Jake asked.

"Why to freshen up our looks! You two will probably be a part of videos soon and we need to make sure our outfits all live up to this new season we are going into!"

Logan frowned. "If it would improve views than I suppose I can agree. But what are the requirements of these upgrades?"

"More pigment! And a symbol or crest that will represent us as a side!"

Virgil bit his lip. "And we have to make our own updates and stuff?" He asked anxiously.

"Yeah!" Roman nodded enthusiastically. "That way it is something you'd actually wear and something that you can be comfortable in."

Virgil frowned. "I think you're forgetting something, Princey."

Roman frowned. "What's that?"

"Not all of us can create cool stuff."

"Kiddo," Patton began. "You don't have to participate if you don't want to but I really think you can do it. It doesn't have to be a big change and you can take inspiration from anywhere. Just give it a try, who knows what you'll come up with."

Virgil frowned and opened his mouth to argue only for his brother to interrupt. "Virgil, just give it a shot, okay? I think it would be nice to put some color into your wardrobe. It might help you have something to focus on instead of the same black and greys all the time."

Virgil sighed and grumbled. "Fine...I'll try. But I can't promise anything."

-------

Virgil stood in his room, different fabrics are strewn about everywhere and ran a hand through his hair. Nothing was working. He couldn't get anything to work. He tried adding different colors of red. And while they looked nice, they didn't feel...right. Virgil was getting tired and he was on his way to a mental break down if he didn't find the right thing soon. He had been working nonstop for days and he couldn't help but give up hope.

He grabbed a handful of fabric and yeeted it across the room at full force. In the blue light, the red fabric glowed a brief purple as it fell and Virgil froze. "Every inch of me is trembling," he sang softly as he slowly moved over to the pile of fabric. "But not from the cold." He kneeled down and carefully picked up the red fabric and held it against the blue light. "Something is familiar." He whispered. The fabric turned a slight purple color as he inspected it. The light giving it a different shade. "Like a dream I can reach but not quite hold. I can sense you there." Virgil turned around and glanced around his room at the discarded piles of fabric laying all over the place from his previous failed attempts at updating his normal outfit. "Like a friend I've always known." He glanced at his hoodie and ideas began to spark. "I'm arriving. And it feels like I am home."

Virgil conjured a plain black zip-up hoodie. "I have always been a fortress, cold secrets deep inside." He carefully laid out the jacket on his bed. "You have secrets, too. But you don't have to hide."

Virgil conjured a small square of purple fabric and laid it on the jacket to test it. "Show Yourself. I'm dying to meet you." He frowned. The purple was nice but it was missing something. "Show Yourself, it's your turn," he sang softly as he glanced around his room. His eyes landed on his Sally and Jack posters. "Are you the one I've been looking for all of my life?" His eyes sparkled as he turned back to the square of plum fabric and focused on conjuring some white string. "Show Yourself, I'm ready to learn. Ah-ah, ah-ah."

Ah-ah, ah-ah-ah.

Virgil's head snapped up as he heard the siren voice again. The loudest it had been in a while. A bright smile spread across his face and he turned back to his project. "I have never felt so certain." Virgil conjured more of the purple fabric. "All my life I've been torn." He moved around his room as he sang and grabbed needles and thread and a pair of scissors. "But I'm here for a reason. Could it be the reason I was born?" Virgil yanked a sketchbook out from his dresser drawer and a few pencils as he began sketching out the design shimmering vividly in his mind. "I have always been so different. Normal rules did not apply." Soon Virgil had a fairly well-composed design laid out, his eyes sparkled with joy. "Is this the day? Are you the way? I finally find out why?"

Virgil picked up the scissors and began cutting out the shapes out of the fabric. "Show Yourself! I'm no longer trembling." As he worked his shadow magic helped hold things for him and kept them from getting lost and protected him from picking his finger on the needle. "Here I am. I've come so far!" All of the fabric was sewn onto the jacket and Virgil set out sewing the white string around the patches somewhat hazardously, really pulling the idea of "stitches together." "You are the answer I've waited for all of my life! Oh, show yourself!" Virgil pulled the hoodie on and frowned slightly. "Let me see who you are."

Virgil moved over to his mirror. "Come to me now," he called as he inspected his hoodie in the mirror. "Open your door. Don't make me wait." The shadows watched him as he frowned at his reflection. "One moment more. Oh, come to me now. Open your door. Don't make me wait one moment more."

Then, as if out of thin air, small patch materialized in front of Virgil, free floating. Where the north wind meets the sea. A voice said, sounding suspiciously like a mixture of Logan's, Thomas's, Patton's, Remus's, Jake's and Roman's sang.

(Ah-ah, ah-ah) The voice that have been calling him since the beginning called out.

There's a river,

(Ah-ah, ah-ah)

Full of memory.

(Memory, memory)

The other voices faded away as the voice sounding mostly like Roman's sang out. Come, my darling, homeward bound.

Virgil felt like crying as he reached forward and gently took the patch out of the air and holding it to his chest. "I am found!!!"

"Show Yourself!" Virgil belted out as the shadows rushed forward and zipped around him. "Step into the power." The shadows melded to the purple patches all over Virgil's jacket, creating a plaid pattern. "Grow yourself! Into something new!" Virgil looked into the mirror with wide eyes as finally, the jacket began to come completely together.

The voices of Virgil's family all called out once again. You are the one you've been waiting for-

"All of my life!"

(All of your life.)

"Oh, show yourself!"

The voices all melded together as the patch attached itself to Virgil's jacket. "Ah-ah, ah-ah. Ah-ah, ah-ah. Ah-ah, ah-ah" The shadows woven together around Virgil as they spun in a tornado-like wind. "Ah-ah, ah-ah. Ah-ah, ah-ah. Ah-ah, ah-ah." The shadows burst away and Virgil was left standing in front of his mirror.

--------

Virgil was slightly nervous. No one had seen each other’s outfits yet. Roman claiming it would be better to catch the genuine reactions of each of them to the others’ new looks. Of course that meant Jake and Remus's looks wouldn't be revealed until later. Knowing those two they probably hadn't even started yet and were using the extra time to slowly plan things out. Today they were filming the Hogwarts houses video and at the end before they ducked out they would change into their new and improved attire. Virgil just hoped everyone liked his. While it felt right, and perfect, he couldn't help but be nervous.

"'Say, Thomas, these emblems and your hair are giving me an idea!'" Roman exclaimed excitedly.

"Roman, make it work!'" Thomas answered, excited to finally see the new designs.

“I say we go for a bit of a change too!'" Roman took off the Gryffindor robe he was wearing, an excited grin on his face.

"Oo! How?'" Patton asked as he fought to take off the Hufflepuff robe, his arms getting stuck in the sleeves and disturbing the blinds behind him.

"If you say mind place again, we haven't even been back to the one you created-" Logan started ranting but was cut off when Roman turned around with a flourish. "'Oh, nice.'"

Roman wore a white jacket with gold embellishes laying across his chest, on his shoulders, and wrapped around his tall collar. Along with that, he wore a red sash that laid diagonally over his torso. With some gold wrapping around the cuffs and a new emblem on the top of his arms, he looked more like a Disney prince than ever. "'Oh! New emblem thingy!'" Patton exclaimed excitedly.

"'Aww. Prince 2. Oh My Goodness.'"

"'Your shoulders were so boring to look at before!'"

Virgil's eyes widened as he leaned back and looked Roman up and down. There was no denying Princey looked good. Like really good. Virgil thanked all that is emo that his blush was hidden beneath his pale foundation.

"'Yeah it's just a bit of a change but I thought it would be nice,'" Roman explained as he smiled joyfully. He almost couldn't contain his squeal at noticing Virgil's reaction.

"'Well, I suppose I could also participate, but I'm not going to go as ornate or elaborate. I would just look silly,'" Logan explained as he prepared to change.

"'I set the bar too high for you, that's okay.'"

Logan turned around as he fixed his new tie. This one held more blue hues going down at an angle. His polo shirt was now a shade darker and featured a cartoon brain with glasses on the breast. He cleared his throat. "'There. Nice simple logo change, clear and to the point.'"

"'Hey Logan!'" Patton exclaimed happily. He excitedly pointed to his new baby blue polo shirt where a cartoon heart with glasses identical to the ones on Logan's logo sat on his chest. Even the cardigan seemed to have changed to a darker, warmer grey. "Matching logos!"

Logan nearly shut down from an overload of Gay but he was able to contain it and keep up with the character he portrayed onscreen. "'That's..very nice Patton.'"

"'Mine is a heart with glasses.'"

"'Stealing my logo, no big deal.'"

"'What's going on with your cardigan?'" Roman asked as he eyed the fabric tied around the moral sides shoulders.

"'Is that your cat onesie?'" Logan asked.

"'Maybe…'" Patton answered as he pulled the hood up with a smile.

"Ugh," Logan sighed. "That will not suffice.'"

Patton groaned, but was silently happy he was able to almost get Logan to break character. "'Ughhhh. You never let me do anything fun.'"

"'You'll figure it out buddy. Maybe something different for next time,'" Roman added.

"'Virgil! Your turn!'" Patton exclaimed as he tied his old hoodie around his shoulders.

"'Oh my gosh, do I have to?'" Virgil asked, following the script. They had set it up so up until each side revealed their new look they had scripted lines and while the reluctance was scripted, it was also slightly real. "'I mean like so many changes. I just told you my name.'"

"No! No!'" Roman exclaimed, desperate to keep Virgil comfortable and not force him to do anything. “You don't have to. I just thought-'"

"'I-actually, ugh.'" Virgil started cutting Roman off. "I actually have this idea, but like, it's a little out there. So, um."

"Go ahead,'" Thomas started. "I mean if you don't like it you can always change back.'"

Virgil let out a sigh. "'Well...alright, but, um. Before I do, I should probably confess that uh." Virgil switched his outfit to his new one, the purple plaid patched zip up hoodie with zippers on the sleeve and white stitching throughout. "I actually really dig the purple.'"

"Woah!!!!" Patton exclaimed excitedly as he took in everything.

"That design!" Logan commented in awe.

Romans eyes widened as he took in the others outfit. From the hoodie to the ripped purple shirt to the ripped skinny jeans. Holy fuck the Emo Nightmare just got hotter!

"'Get on his level,'" Thomas commented, impressed with Virgil's new look.

Patton started coughing. "You good, Patton?'" Roman asked worriedly.

"I got overexcited,'" Patton explained.

"'Well, I will say this much, that is..a jacket,'" Logan spoke up.

"'That is..magnificent,'" Roman commented as Virgil hunched his shoulders a bit before letting the tension flow from his body and allowed himself to smile an adorable little half-smile. Roman's heart raced at the smile and he found it hard to not just leap forward and pull Virgil into a passionate kiss. "'How you've managed to become even angstier.'"

"Oh, okay," Virgil said, his smile gone before it could see a minute.

"No!'" Roman exclaimed, quickly trying to fix the situation. "'If that's what you want to rock then you rock it sir! Who needs your own Hogwarts house when you have your own hog wild style.'" Roman paused, "'Ah, I don't even know what I'm saying anymore.'"

"'Yeah..it is pretty hog wild,'" Virgil commented, slightly confused and amused. Roman may have been a little unprepared but Virgil official counted it as rendering the creative side speechless. And that was a win in his book.

--------

That night, when Virgil went to bed, it was the first time in a long time, he didn't have to fight against an ever-present siren voice. And if he and Roman happened to share a kiss in the few minutes before dinner, that was nobody's business but their own. And if they held hands under the table during dinner, then that was also their own little secret.

-----

Taglist: @spxced-oxt @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist @little-euro-girl @unicornofdarknessstuff @maryann-draws

58 notes · View notes