#das loos | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sleepyconfusedpotato · 6 months

Text

Run Free

art by me!

Price, Gaz, and Ghost visits the MacTavish Estate baring the news.

Word Count: 2.1k words Warning: Major character death, angst and comfort. Note : I wrote this fic a few days after I finished the campaign. I've always thought it weird why the 141 boys had Soap's ashes when I've always seen Soap as someone with a family and a had good relationship with them, especially since it's canon that Soap's cousin brought him to the SAS base several times as a kid. Here's my interpretation of that fact, on how Soap's urn ended up with the boys.

Price, Gaz, and Ghost wore their dress uniforms from head to toe, finding themselves in front of the MacTavish Estate in Glasgow. It was… big, to say the least. Soap’s family was known not only because a number of people from the family are serving in the British Royal Armed Forces, but also the fact that they are 7th generation furniture company - MacTavish Furnitures. Lots of members of the family are veterans turned businessmen, carpenters, or woodworkers. It is a common cycle of life for them.

As Ghost and Gaz stood, Price climbed the stairs and wore his beige beret, breathing deeply through his nose before letting the air out to prepare himself, lifting his hand to knock on the wooden door. The captain heard faint noises of multiple footsteps from multiple people and some voices of heavy Scottish accent from inside the house. He waited for a moment, until the door finally opened, but he found no one in front of him.

“Who are ya?”

A little voice spoke from under him, prompting Price to look down. He found a little girl with blonde hair no taller than his knees. She’s absolutely drenched from head to toe in a blue swimming attire and had to bend her neck so high to see him. He bent down to his knees to match her height, before saying,

“Hello. I’m… My name is John.”

“John? Like Uncle Johnny?” Her little voice said, face gleaming with happiness at the name.

“Yes. Like Uncle Johnny.” Price smiled, chuckling lightly. The girl grinned at his smiling face. “May I see your dad? Or mum?”

“Phoebe MacTavish! Get your wee feet here before I pick your legs off of that floo–! Oh, Hello there.” A new voice came from in front of him, revealing herself to be an old woman with dark brown hair, though with white strands and the same quizzical brow that reminded Price of Soap. She looked strong, nonetheless, wearing a green shirt and knitted vest with a towel hanging from one of her shoulders, obviously to dry the little girl after a session of swimming in their estate’s pool.

Price stood back up, greeting the lady. “Mrs. MacTavish.”

The old woman looked at his attire up and down, and Price swore that he saw the gears rotating inside her mind. She looked down at the girl and gave her the white towel, “Phoebe. Go inside and dry yourself. Find your Da, Aunt Rachel, and Uncle Hugh, too. Tell them to meet me at the front door, yeah?” The little girl nodded and ran inside, disappearing into the house as Price heard a faint yelling from the same child, calling for the stated family members.

Now, the lady in front of him walked closer to the doorway, face to face with him. She’s undoubtedly no taller than 5’7”, a height that might have been receding as time went by, but you could spot a proud MacTavish wherever you see one. Price offered his hand for a handshake as she accepted. “Captain John Price from the 22 SAS Regiment.”

“Joan MacTavish.” She replied. Price noticed the name as the name on Soap’s file as his guardian, with the relation being marked with ‘Aunt’. “What brings you here, Captain?” Her face looked neutral like it wasn’t the first time a soldier with a full dress uniform knocked on this wooden door.

Just before Price could say what he wanted to say, a deep voice called to her. “Mum?” One woman and two men with a frame similar to him showed up from inside the house. One man was around Ghost’s age, one was around his age, while the woman in a bun looked older than him, though looking very vibrant and professional. All of them had the same thick eyebrows – Family traits, he supposed – and clearly looked like honourable but firm Scottish people. Upon seeing Price, though, their faces changed from confusion to realization.

Price remembered that Soap was not the first MacTavish in the SAS. In fact, there was another member of the family, Oliver MacTavish, who died in the line of duty a decade ago. Price remembered the way Soap had told the story of Ollie, his cousin, bringing his little arse to the SAS base - however unpermitted it was – and how Price had busted Soap multiple times for applying with a fake age.

“Rachel MacTavish.” The eldest one spoke.

“Hugh MacTavish.” The elder man said, followed by the younger.

“Scott MacTavish. That was my daughter, Phobe.” They all shook hands with Price.

He repeated his greeting, before Rachel started,

“I've seen the likes of you before. I recognize that beret even from a mile away." She said firmly. "Out with it."

The captain's breath hitched as he cleared his throat, preparing himself to deliver the news. And so, he began.

"On November 21st, our target had placed an active bomb inside the underwater tunnel that connects the UK and France. During our attempt to defuse the bomb, the target sneaked from behind our line of sight…"

The whole family's face changed, Joan's eyes looked glassy with tears seeming like she knew of the incoming words.

"And I regret to inform you… that Sergeant John MacTavish has died in the line of duty."

Ghost, without his mask and black face paint around his eyes, and Gaz with their dress uniforms and beret could only stand from the base of the stairs, watching and hearing as Joan's cry of anguish tear through the morning sky.

"Oh Lord. Johnny. Johnny. My baby, Johnny." Joan repeated his name like a chanting to the sky. "Why must You take him so soon? Why must he join Ollie so soon?"

The whole family hugged their mother as she wailed, her knees looked like it was giving up. Gaz gritted his teeth to strengthen himself, not wanting to break down to cry himself.

As the family cried, Price could only stand still, letting the news sink in for the family. His job as the leader of the team was done, at that point. He delivered the news to his family.

"The bomb…Did he defuse it?" Hugh questioned in the middle of his sobs.

"He–" Price swallowed, remembering the way Makarov had killed him. "We were both defusing the bomb, John guiding me along the way as he was the demolition expert."

"He protected me, Sir. Our target was about to shoot me, before John stopped him - and got killed instead. The target ran away, but me and Sergeant Garrick managed to defuse the bomb thanks to his prior guidance, saving thousands of lives underneath the 30-mile underwater tunnel." Price answered as Rachel looked up at his face, anger and denial filling her in an instant.

She raised her hand in such a way that Price knew that she was about to slap him. Price still opened his eyes, fully welcoming the slap before her hand stopped.

Rachel bit her lips so hard that it might bleed, lowering her arm.

"...Why does it have to be Johnny? Why do you get to live and he doesn't?" She barely whispered in a shaky voice, going back to wiping her face again. “Why Johnny…?”

And Price asked that question every single hour ever since his death.

Why Soap, and not him?

—

The MacTavishes requested for Soap's body to be sent to Scotland, where they held a memorial at the MacTavish estate to which they promptly honoured. The number of family members participating was not that many, considering only the immediate family attended. Price, Soap, and Ghost joined them, and even escorted the family as they travelled to the crematorium.

After the whole procession finished – that took the entire day – the family finally had possession of the urn containing Soap's ashes, and they invited the three back to the estate, where they now sit inside the guest room and tea in front of them with Joan and Rachel, his urn placed on a table beside Joan.

That was the day they learned that Soap was actually the son of Joan's late husband's younger sister. Soap's mother – her sister-in-law, died when she birthed Soap, while Soap's father died during an accident in a factory before his own birth.

Soap had been raised by his uncle's family since his infancy, growing up in the MacTavish house as a strong and firm Scott under the wing of the eldest brother, Oliver.

"He's always wanted to be like Ollie, that wee kid," Rachel told them after holding a photo album containing photos of Soap when he was a baby in his late uncle's arms, a photo of him and his older cousins playing with mud, photos of his graduations from school, and photos of him passing the test to be a part of SAS along with his cousin, Oliver. "Said he didn't want to go to school. Just visit the army base every day. It's what he dreamed of."

Ghost, still in his dress uniform, felt the most vulnerable in that room - Without his mask, in front of Johnny's family. He also had been in agony for the past day, because he'd failed to cover Johnny's back. He had one job at that time, and he failed, catastrophically. He only sat there with his hands joined in his lap, not daring to look at the family in the eyes.

"We're very thankful for John's service with us. He was the best there is." Gaz spoke, "John's memory will live with us."

"Thank you, Sergeant Garrick." Joan smiled as she looked up. "I heard you share the same quarters with him in the barracks. I hope he wasn't too much of a naughty boy."

The sergeant chuckled lightly at that, "Well. Soap wasn't someone who could stay away from mischief too long, but I assure you that he's an absolute joy and inspiration to be around." Hearing Joan's laughter cured a little part in Gaz, as the only thing he'd heard from her was the sound of her cry. He could at least pride himself in knowing that he could share Soap's merry nature.

As they share memories, Price finished his tea before he stood up from the sofa, followed by the other two. "Well. We must take our leave, Ma'am. Thank you for the tea."

"Anytime." Joan spoke as the soldiers started to leave the sofa, heading towards the main room and front door.

"Which one of ya’s is ‘LT’?"

Rachel’s voice stopped the men in their tracks, particularly Ghost’s. All three men turned around, finding the woman holding Soap’s urn in her hands. Price saw how Ghost's face turned to that of a deer in a spotlight, so he put his hand behind Ghost’s back to lightly push him towards Rachel, but Ghost’s hesitancy was apparent in the way he slowly walked.

“...That would be me, Ma’am.” Ghost’s deep voice rumbled softly as he looked down to Rachel’s height. The lady herself observed him up and down with a negative face that she could convince him that he was standing there naked.

“Yer tryin’ so hard to make yourself look small for such a big man. It’s almost dreading.” She started, her hips shifting. “I’ve been the CEO of MacTavish Furnitures since my da’ passed away and Ollie decided to go to the army, and I read people like a book. For someone whom Johnny admired the most – and repeatedly spoke about – you don’t look like the LT I heard from him.” Ghost was starstruck at the statement. Soap, talking about him to his family? “I expected you to be cocky and exude pride in your steps, but all I’m seein’ is just a pathetic, sad bloke.”

Ghost stood still at those comments. No one practically had ever roasted him this badly in front of his teammates. He wondered if he showed up in his other attire, she’d dare to say all this. But then again, if someone got to do it, he was glad that it came from an honourable woman of the MacTavish bloodline.

What caught him off guard was her hands stretching towards him, holding Soap’s urn in front of his chest. Ghost looked down at the metal container, looking confused as he looked up again to face Rachel. He thought the MacTavishes were going to hold on to Soap’s urn, and they get to keep Soap’s dog tags. However, clearly, the current head of the family had other wishes.

“Take Johnny with ya. Being trapped inside this urn for eternity in this old house would be the last thing he wanted.” The woman started with a shaky voice, her eyes starting to brim with tears again. Seeing Soap’s character, Ghost could understand that completely.

“He’s… the proudest he could ever be when he’s with ya’s." Rachel continued.

"So I ask you, as our brother’s comrades, to hold on to Johnny – and free him.”

Ghost’s eyes opened wide in surprise, still couldn’t fathom how fondly Soap must've talked about his teammates, especially him, to his family that they’d give him his ashes. Ghost lifted his hands to carefully receive the urn.

After breathing deeply, Ghost stood straight, holding Soap firmly.

“We will, Ma’am.”

—

The three of them walked towards the car parked just outside the MacTavish estate with Ghost holding Soap’s urn in his hands. They all took off their berets and entered the car, Price the designated driver, Gaz riding shotgun, while Ghost sat in the backseat.

“So what do we do with him, Sir?” Gaz rotated his body to look at Soap’s urn on Ghost’s hands, same as Price.

Ghost contemplated in his mind, staring at the metal urn, before speaking, “Where’s Johnny’s place of birth?”

Price answered immediately as he’s the one who took care of Soap’s documents. “Isle of Skye.”

“Soap said there’s a beautiful cliff where he and his cousins used to go to play. Endless sea where the eyes could see.” Gaz added.

“Then that’s where we’re goin’.” Ghost spoke with finality. “And then we’ll let Johnny go.”

Price and Gaz nodded to each other. "Alright, Soap. Let's get you home." The captain started the car and stepped on the gas, beginning their journey towards the Isle of Skye.

---

I'm not okay. Thank you for reading! (T_T) reblogs and comments of your thoughts are much appreciated!

691 notes · View notes

redheartedtramp · 29 days

Text

Scenario: *Jaune is just trying to take out the garbage behind the coffee shop and is fiddling with his keys.*

Jaune: Damn, why do we have to lock up the dumpster. Who's gonna try to dive through this?

*Jaune suddenly feels heavy breathing on his neck. He looks over his shoulder and sees Wolf!Cinder.*

Cinder: Hey there, Humie.

Jaune: !?!

Cinder: Ah ah ah. Eyes forward, Humie.

Jaune: *turns back to the lock*

Cinder: That's right, Humie, just focus on the task at hand. That's right, get your key. Undo the lock.

Cinder: Hey now~ Don't go too fast. You wouldn't wanna worry me now, would you? *flashes claws* You wouldn't wanna scare me, would you? If you go too fast, I might just feel threatened and act in self-defense.

Jaune: *glances at claws nervously*

Cinder: You ever get attacked by a Wolf, humie? They often go for the throat. Quick and easy.

Jaune: *sweats nervously as he finally gets the lock off and quickly starts putting the trash away*

Cinder: Hey now, don't go too fast now. Or you'll pull a muscle.

Jaune: *nervously slows down*

Cinder: That's right. Nice and slow, Humie. Really put on a show for me.

Jaune: W-why are you doing this?

Cinder: I like watching you humans get uncomfortable. Are you? Are you uncomfortable?

Jaune: A-a little.

Cinder: Is it because I'm a Faunus?

Jaune: *puts trash away* N-no?

Cinder: Oh, that'd be good. Cause you're being recorded.

Jaune: *slowly looks around and sees Wolf!Emerald holding her phone*

Cinder: Hey, hey. Don't look at her. Focus on your job, garbage humie. Put that padlock back on.

Jaune: Y-yes, ma'am. *pulls out the lock*

Cinder: Could you imagine what would happen if me being a Faunus was the problem, and not that I could cut open your throat like paper. People would eat you alive. Like a wolf.

Jaune: *gets the lock on*

Cinder: Aw, good job, Humie. Well, I'd better get going. Too-da-loo~

*Cinder and Emerald proceed to leave, leaving Jaune to run back into the store.*

Coco: Jeez, Arc, I just asked you to throw out the trash. What took you so long?

Jaune: ...T-trouble with the lock...

#rwby #rwby shitpost #coffee shop au #wolf!cinder #cinder fall #emerald sustrai #wolf!emerald #jaune arc #coco adel

154 notes · View notes

gremlin-bot · 1 year

Text

The Trials and Tribulations of Summoning Your Boyfriend

This is based on this prompt from @stealingyourbones ! Hope y’all like it!

AO3 link!

Tag list- @bewitched-forest @half-dead-ham @eyesofcrows

Tim wasn't up in the watchtower much. It's the Justice League's base and he had his own city and team to take care of (even if said team is a branch of the Justice League and he shared responsibility of Gotham with his family). All of that is to say that when he and other available members of the League were called to the watchtower, it was bad.

Tim was expecting a world ending threat. What he wasn't expecting was a summoning circle and a portion of Justice League Dark to be there. John Constantine and a summoning circle always means bad news, it's even worse that Zatanna and Captain Marvel are there helping. What kind of threat is it to warrant this? All of this is topped off with superman wheeling in a projector to the training room they are all set up in.

Bruce steps up next to the projector. He looks extremely tired, not that most people could tell but a bird knows the bat well. As Bruce turns on the machine, Constantine takes his place next to him with a book bound in leather that holds pages that glow a slight green.

"I called you all here because of this creature attacking Central City." Projected on the wall is a blurry image of a black dragon with a purple underbelly, its whole body glowing.

"Justice League Dark was able to identify it as from a place called the Infinite Realms. They have advised us to not engage and to evacuate everyone we can from the whole city. The Flash has started that. Half of you will join him, as indicated by folders Superman is handing out. The other half will be here to help with the solution that Constantine is handling."

As Bruce directs those in the evacuation group, Constantine takes over the debrief. "The beast in Central City is a bitch to take care of and the solution is even worse. You boy scouts are here to make sure everything doesn't go completely tits up. I hate to say this and hate fucking doing it even more, but we are trying to trying to summon the Ghost King."

At that point Tim tuned out a bit. Usually he wouldn't have but he actually knows more about what's happening than Constantine does. Looking back at the creature still being projected, he can vaguely recognize it now. How did Aragon get out of the realms? Especially without being noticed by Da-

Tim was pulled out of his thoughts by Dick, who apparently was dragged here as well, brushing past him with a smirk. What a dick, going out of his way to mess with him. He really should get to where he was needed.

Taking his place near the top of the summoning circle, he noticed how it was actually set up. It was wrong, completely and utterly wrong. The array was correct. It showed the right constellations and had the right places connected but the candles aren't on the circles that represent the planets, nor was the offering placed correctly. This wasn't going to summon anything. Too bad that Tim was going to let them try anyway. It's better than trying to correct it and explain why he knew it was wrong, plus where was the fun in that.

The other heroes settle into their places. The ones left were the Justice League's big three , the JLD members, Conner, Dick, and Tim himself. They all looked a little nervous and on edge in their own way, from Superman's clenched fists to Dicks never moving smile. Besides Tim who was a bit more relaxed than he really should be. He really should hide it a bit better.

Constantine reading from the book starts the summoning. Latin falling heavy from his lips, a wind that should not be possible in a satellite blows through the room, the candles' flame turns neon green. Everyone holds their breath as the chanting stops. The candles flicker once, twice, and nothing. The room quickly reverted to how it was before. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife.

"Bollocks." Constantine deflates. "Looks like this didn't work, we must have fucked up somewhere."

"Why don't we explain how we set it up and go from there." Zatanna offers, gesturing for everyone to gather around her and Constantine. Tim stays back and waits for the rest to be distracted by figuring out what went wrong. He can tell that Bruce and Dick have noticed his distance from the others but they haven't done anything yet.

Once the distraction is set, Tim moves in front of the correct offering section of the array. Removing his glove and taking out a birdarang from his belt. He can hear the moment everyone notices the actions he has taken and the one about to come.

"Red Robin, step away from the summoning circle." Bruce demands with concern hidden in his voice.

Tim doesn't listen.

In the moment before anyone can get to him, Tim slashes his ring finger on his left hand. It wasn't deep per say but it definitely wasn't a paper cut. Blood flows out of the wound (almost like a ring), hitting the floor inside the offering ring of the array.

Several things happen at once. First, Dick who was the closest and was trying to grab him, stopped in his tracks along with everyone else. Second, the summoning changed. The first offering was ejected from its place, the crystals shattering. Candles slide at high speed, settling on the represented planets, their flames changing color. The summoning is like a loaded spring trap now. Tim grinning, sets the trap off.

"Alnilam, my love" dropped soft and sweet from Tim's lips with a crawling static buzz. Everyone could hear the buzzing honey intertwined with those words despite their low volume.

The stilled room stirred, yet no one but Tim himself had moved. A cold fog rolls out from the array, blowing a light breeze with it. The static can be felt in their scars, healed bones, all the near misses, and clipped hits. All close calls of the past haunt them in this moment. The room's lovely held in tension snaps as the soul deep buzz is pulled from them into the array. It spills into a Lazarus, toxic, death, neon green pool with small rippling waves that crest with reflection of the space that engulfs the watchtower. This rippling pool stretches upwards. Everyone struggles to move as they inch closer to Tim. As the liquid barely reaches the tall ceiling of the training room, gravity seems to take hold. It sloshes down, turning into a cool fog on impact. Leaving a being in its wake, that is kissing Tim's offered bloody hand.

Danny is in his full king garb. A black metal crown floats above his head surrounded by light similar to earth's aurora borealis. White hair glowing starlight complementing pale blue skin, that blushes the prettiest cyan, not that anyone but Tim can see that. Jewelry hanging from pointed ears and slender neck. His suit is hidden by a long cloak cut from the barrier between realities. The outside is the space outside the satellite with the interlining of a swirling Lazarus green peaking out as the end floats upward.

Tim is grinning like a love struck fool and he knows it. This is so worth the lecture he will be getting from both Bruce and Dick. Danny raises his head, blood staining his lips as they stretch into a fanged grin just as love struck.

"Hey Red, uh what the fuck!?" Dick's voice snapped the two boys out of their own world and back into the one with everyone surrounding them with looks of concern and from certain people, bone deep exhaustion. Danny drops Tim's no longer bleeding hand, allowing Tim to turn to fully look at the group around them. Tim's grin is now one of mischief and secrets yet to be spoken. From the look on Bruce's face if Danny wasn't behind him he would be out of the watchtower and locked in the manor despite not living there anymore. Too bad that Constantine could give less of a fuck about what's going on between Danny and him.

"Your highness, we called your assistance because one of your subjects is causing trouble in the moral realm and-" as Constantine told and worked out what was going on, Danny moved so he was behind Tim, his arms loosely wrapped around Tim's neck and chin resting on top of his head. Danny was floating off the ground to do this.

"Oh! That's Aragon, give me 10 minutes and he'll be out of your hair. There is no payment needed, I insist. But before that –'' Danny’s legs float up, flipping him to face Tim upsidedown. A grin that only means trouble for Tim sets on his pretty face. “Red, Babe, Love. You could have just called me if you wanted me to meet your dad and his superhero friends!”

“Danny, I swear to the Ancients if you disappear –” Tim couldn’t finish the hollow threat as Danny gave him a peck on the cheek and disappeared from sight. Leaving Tim to the heroes, one being Bruce ‘Tim is my little princess’ Wayne and another is his very protective brother.

Tim looks at his family members in the room, and wow, yeah he is not escaping the interrogation when they get back to the manor. Bruce is approaching him swiftly and looks as if he is going to grab him and never let go. Dick is no better, he has a shit eating grin with his wrist computer up and is already typing. Everyone is going to be there for the interrogation and Bruce's coddling, Tim just knows it. He's going to make Danny go back to the manor with him, he is not doing this alone. It's the least his boyfriend can do after leaving him to deal with this. It was still worth it, even if he has to flee to the Infinite Realms after all is said and done. He’ll just become a trophy husband for Danny and avoid his family at all costs in doing so.

"Red Robin, would you please explain what your relation is with the King of the Infinite Realms." Bruce is definitely in mama bear mode, he was never going to be let outside of the manor.

"I think there are more pressing matters at hand here, like how King Phantom is on his way to Central City and we have yet to inform anyone on the ground." Tim is stalling and everyone knows it, but he's not wrong.

Bruce grumbles about not knowing the king's name but still steps away from Tim and starts relaying the relevant information to the evacuation team. Dick is leaving him alone for the moment, probably waiting for more privacy. Conner on the other hand is trying to hold in his laughter at the situation he got himself into. Tim just glares at him, even if Conner can't see it under the domino. At this point he doesn't care what the rest of the League thinks, he just wants Danny back so they can face Bruce and the rest of his family like he (they) has been avoiding.

Danny was quicker than his self-imposed time limit, taking 7 minutes instead of 10. Giving just enough time for Bruce to almost give an on the spot interrogation, almost being Tim's saving grace. Unlike Danny, who decides to drop his invisibility only after wrapping around Tim's torsos, his head and arms taking their previous places.

"Your ghost problem is taken care of. I'll be taking Aragon back to the infinity realms, along with Red Robin here." Danny casually says, like it isn't kidnapping.

"Wait, what." Tim said in shocked silence.

"Well since you summoning me got me out of a meeting with the observants, it's a perfect time to go on a date, you know like all of our dates." Danny is saying these things on purpose and he better get them out of here quick before Bruce tackles them.

"You are a menace!" as Tim says this, ectoplasm begins to pool at their feet, spreading out making a barrier of open space around.

"A menace, you love!" Danny lovingly teases as a low rumble ripples from his core making Tim smile. This is the last thing the heroes hear before the couple drops out of the mortal realm and into the one of the dead.

#Tim drake x danny fenton #Danny Phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc crossover #prompt fill #summoning fic #ghost king danny #dc x dp #Tim Drake #Petals and Arrays of The Dead and Those Yet To Be #Writing on the walls

1K notes · View notes

iskander-tm · 4 months

Text

2023 finale This year was very sensual and tender in my works For me though... well on the tree hangs ornament and not me which is great Resolutions for a new year are to keep learning how to draw background, lean into stylization more, do more experiments too da loo

#art #happy new yuri #merry yaoimas #illustrations #digital art #artists on tumblr

122 notes · View notes

slytherinshua · 4 months

Text

LIPSTICK STAINS

genre. fluff. warnings. kissing. pairing. husband!chanhee x wife!reader. wc. 1.1k. request. no. a/n. chanhee husband agenda idk what else to say...

Chanhee’s breath was taken away every time he walked into your art studio. Falling in love with you and your paintings had been one of the dreamiest experiences of his life. But now, being able to walk into your little art studio a couple blocks away from your house, visiting you as you worked as your husband? That reality was infinitely more dreamy to him.

He would truly never get tired of any of it. The smell of fresh paint and clean fabric as he walked through the door, the soft classical music that you liked to listen to while creating your paintings— it was all so beautiful to him. Your whole process was unique, and each painting turned out so beautifully different from the last.

You specialized in portraits; another of the many reasons that Chanhee had fallen for you. You had a passion for capturing a person’s emotion and soul in a painting. The way you painted them held such vulnerability, like you were telling a whole story through each stroke of paint to the canvas.

Of course, as you started dating Chanhee, and fell more in love with the man than you thought possible for a person, your paintings slowly found themselves a new muse. He held the title more proudly than anything else. He was a muse for an artist. He was your muse. And, oh, how you loved to paint him.

Chanhee could name about 30 or more paintings that you had done of him over the years. You could name at least 50 more. You only showed him ones when he begged you to. And he always wanted to see when he was aware you had painted him again— which is why you stopped telling him.

You didn’t mind showing him the ones you were proud of, but you never felt like your art was really good enough. Chanhee strongly disagreed, though. He always praised your paintings as if you were the next Leonardo Da Vinci (which, in his mind, you were). You had a secret stash of scrapped or unfinished paintings of your husband which only you were aware of. It was like a small treasure trove— and you had full intention to fix and finish each one of the paintings over the course of time.

You were working on one of those unfinished paintings when Chanhee walked in. He always knocked softly on the wall to alert you of his presence since there was no door to your painting room. You easily got zoned into your paintings and were easily startled by loud noises or suddenly appearing husbands who wanted back hugs. (Not that Chanhee knew from experience, or anything.)

You hummed softly when you heard his knock, a small sign to Chanhee that you were aware of his presence and that he could come in. You were focused on applying a burnt orange colour to the background of the painting, and your husband watched you with a smitten smile on his face. When you finished applying the orange and put down your paintbrush, turning around to him, his smile widened.

“What are you painting today?” He asked curiously, seeing the beautiful mess of colours on the large canvas. It wasn’t immediately noticeable to the naked eye that his face would soon be on that canvas as well. Your art style was always a mix of mediums and colours. You never liked to do just simple portraits— there always had to be something special about it.

“Take a guess?” You walked towards him, easing your arm around his waist and leaning into his side. He reciprocated the hug, resting his chin on the top of your head.

He hummed, “Perhaps a certain Choi Chanhee?”

You scoffed, “No way. I’ve painted him too many times already. His face is getting boring.” You said, glancing up at your husband with a teasing glimmer in your smile. Chanhee rolled his eyes and squeezed your waist gently, showing his unamusement with your little joke. He took your face in his hands, leaning down a little, staring straight at you with his shiny eyes.

You were expecting a kiss, but instead Chanhee just looked at you seriously for a few seconds before cracking a small smile, “You could never get bored of my face.” He whispered.

He was right. He knew he was right, and a surge of confidence ran through him as soon as he saw colour creep up to your cheeks at his whispered remark. You really shouldn’t have allowed him to have free access to your studio at any time. Not only was it distracting to have the prettiest man on Earth looking at you so fondly as you worked, but you also froze up under his gaze, often resulting in works you were less proud of.

“My paint is getting dry.” You mumbled, trying to pull his hands from your blushing cheeks. He was stubborn in keeping his face close to yours, though.

“I’m not leaving without kissing my wife.” He said simply.

You gave in— really it was almost impossible to resist Chanhee for as long as you had. You leaned up and pressed your lips to his, sighing in content as he deepened the kiss, hands sliding to hold your jaw softly. Your hands were on his shoulders, grounding you so you couldn’t get lost in the feeling of his lips.

The first time you pulled out of the kiss, Chanhee’s lips found yours again quicker than you could get a word in, causing both of you to giggle. The second time, you were sure you would be able to escape— but Chanhee’s hands had slid down to your waist, and held you securely so that you couldn’t end the kiss before he was ready.

Once you finally pulled away for the third time, you were both slightly out of breath. Chanhee seemed satisfied and let go of you, though you didn’t walk away from him immediately. You caught your breath first, still resting your hands on your husband’s shoulders, laughing at each sharp exhale of his breath and how the kiss had left you with a swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

“I’ve got to get back to painting, love. Pick me up for dinner, okay?” You grinned at him. He hummed and nodded, waving goodbye to you before he could further distract you.

As he left, you noticed the slight smudge of your lipstick to the side of his lips. You smiled to yourself, picking up your paintbrush again, deciding that a kiss mark was just what this painting needed.

↳ tbz taglist: @yeonjuns-redhair,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @cosmicwintr

106 notes · View notes

sixlane · 3 months

Text

tricks up sleeves and all that

rosekiller microfic | 1,180 words | magician Barty, single dad Evan

The first thing Evan thought when his daughter told him she wanted a magician at her birthday party was how did I raise a child who enjoys close-up magic? It wouldn’t have been his first choice, probably wouldn’t have even been his last. He would’ve gone with something classier, more elegant, like a tea party or a day at the museum. Something to live up to the extravagance of previous years. Sure, Eleanor is only seven but that doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy the finer things.

So, in between meetings and phone calls, Evan researched children’s birthday party magicians, and as you’d expect, not much was living up to his standards. After days of sifting through resumes and background checks, he was eventually able to find a well-designed website with good reviews and speak to a representative who promised to send their best.

This is why Evan is so confused when he opens his front door to find a tall, lanky man in ripped jeans and a worn out t-shirt, his look complete with ruffled hair, an eyebrow piercing, and excessive amounts of tattoos.

“You must have the wrong house,” Evan says. He thinks he should probably close the door but something about this man is intriguing. He wants to look for just a second longer.

The man leans back to check the address beside the door. “You’re Mr. Rosier, right? I’m here for the birthday party. I’m Barty, the magician.”

Evan raises a brow. “You don’t look like a magician.”

“Were you expecting a full tuxedo? It’s like 95 degrees out.” A tilted grin spreads over his face, showing off a pointy canine. “Here let me show you.” Before Evan can back away, Barty is reaching behind his ear and producing a shiny quarter, flipping it between his fingers confidently. “Ta da.”

“That’s hardly magic,” Evan says, crossing his arms. He better get a full refund if this is the best they had.

“No, you’re right. That’s just the decoy.” He raises his left hand, and between his thumb and pointer finger he holds Evan’s watch, which had previously been secured to his wrist.

Evan’s mouth drops open slightly. He hadn’t even felt it. “That’s not magic either, that is literally stealing.” He snatches the watch back, putting it on.

“It’s the art of misdirection,” Barty explains. “I do a dumb coin trick, and while you’re paying attention to that, I do something more impressive. It’s like, the basis of all magic.”

Evan doesn’t even know what to say. This man has just pickpocketed him on his own front porch and now he wants Evan to let him into his house?

At the same time Evan is getting ready to slam the door in Barty’s face, Eleanor appears at his hip, smile wider than a mile across her face.

“Is this the magician, Dad?” she asks, tugging at his shirt while she bounces up and down.

“You must be Eleanor,” Barty says, squatting down so they’re at eye level. He’s performing now, Evan can tell. He lights up and his smugness from before is washed away. “Would you like to pick a card?”

Eleanor nods enthusiastically.

Barty pulls a deck out of his back pocket and starts shuffling. Evan watches the way his fingers move deftly around the cards. Bending and flipping them expertly before fanning them out in front of her.

“Okay, go ahead. But don’t tell me what your card is, just show it to your dad and put it back anywhere in the deck.”

Eleanor does as instructed and shows Evan the card, ace of hearts, before sliding it back in.

“Thanks Eleanor, that’s great.” He starts shuffling the cards again, adding in flourishes here and there. Evan watches intently, trying to track his every move, see where he might be switching cards out or taking a peek, but he moves too quickly for Evan to stay on top of everything. “Now Ellie, can I call you Ellie?” Eleanor giggles and nods her head. “Your dad here,” he tilts his head up at Evan, “has already seen me do a trick similar to this, but I think I can put a new spin on it, what do you say?”

Eleanor looks up at Evan, affronted. “Dad! You’ve been playing with the magician without me?”

Evan hears Barty try to stifle a laugh and feels the beginning of a tension headache spreading behind his eyes. “I was just making sure he was up to our standards,” he grits out.

“Don’t worry Ellie, your dad was just doing his due diligence.” Eleanor looks appeased and waves her hand in a motion that tells Barty to continue. He does one last shuffle and then reaches behind Eleanor’s ear. When he pulls back, he has the ace of spades in between his pointer and middle fingers. “So Ellie, was this your card?”

She looks confused and a little disappointed. Evan holds himself back from kicking Barty directly in the face. “Um… close,” she says. “Mine had hearts on it.”

Barty looks at the card. “Huh. You know, sometimes the cards don’t always do what we want them to so we have to shake some sense into them. He starts waving the card quickly back and forth. When it comes to a stop, Barty holds the ace of hearts where the ace of spades had previously been. He smiles in triumph. Evan still kind of wants to kick him in the face.

Eleanor lets out an excited squeal and rushes forward to tackle Barty into a hug. “Can we keep him, Dad?” she screams directly in Barty’s ear. He doesn’t even flinch.

Evan lets out a resigned sigh. He’s really never been able to deny Eleanor anything, so he steps to the side, opening the door wider, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. “Of course Eleanor. Go gather your friends in the living room. Barty will be right in.” He places a hand on her head as she runs by.

Barty stands up and straightens his pants out, sliding the deck back into his pocket. “Good enough?” he asks, shrugging a shoulder.

Evan scrutinizes him for a second, running his eyes over every inch of the man. The line of his cheekbone, the curve of his neck, the way his thumb rubs a circle into the side of his pointer finger. There’s something about him. Evan hasn’t heard Eleanor scream that loud since Pandora got her a bug collection kit for Christmas last year.

“I want you to know that I keep a detailed inventory of everything in my home, so if you steal something I will find out, and you won't be happy about the consequences.”

Barty smiles, something mischievous glinting in his eye. “We’ll see about that,” he says brushing past Evan to make his way into the living room. Evan closes the door behind him. Right before Barty turns the corner, he throws something over his shoulder. Without thinking, Evan catches it. His wallet. With the ace of hearts sticking mockingly out of the top.

#this came to me in a dream #idk they make sense to me #like pickpocket barty who goes on to be a children's birthday party magician?#evan hires him for every event after this and always offers to hang up his jacket meanwhile he's seam ripping his sleeves open #trying to figure out where barty keeps everything #then sewing them back up #rosekiller #barty crouch jr.#evan rosier #evan x barty #barty x evan #rosekiller microfic #lane writes #marauders fanfic #marauders #microfic tag

66 notes · View notes

wolven91 · 7 months

Text

A Happy, Imperfect Life

William sighed as he woke. Rain drummed on the slanted windows above his head, it was a steady, hard rain. The water that constantly sluiced off the window promised it was going to be a wet day, all day.

Thankfully, there was no need to leave his apartment. No job to go to, no bills to pay. One of the joys of being amongst the stars and being a member of an endangered species, meant that William had been offered a place of his own as soon as the settlement had been opened. A year later and his little slice of life had taken on his personality. Posters of alien films that he'd enjoyed, hard copies of their music were stacked in a ramshackle pile near the music player.

But William's favourite part of his home, was his bed. Designed for an ursidain, it was massive. Ursidains were usually over twice the height of a full-grown human, so length ways he had to scoot on his ass for several lengths before escaping via the bottom and with the giant bear-like creatures being so large, both in width and mass, the comparatively tiny human could roll sideways several times either way before falling off the bed.

It all meant that each night, William slept in an expanse of soft, cushioned heaven that he had only dreamed off back on Earth.

A small smile graced his face as he considered it all. He missed his family, that wasn't ever really going to heal completely, but their painful memory had at least scabbed over. Every now and then something would catch it and the pain of their loss would flair, but he was at least coming to accept that whilst unfair, his life wasn't over just because theirs were.

The sound of a tongue licking a muzzle with a half-asleep growl came from below his chin. Glancing down, William couldn't help but smirk at Torri's leather nose sticking out from beneath the massive blanket. Any time the blanket fell, and William was exposed to the cold, he'd need to wake Torri just so the canid could grab the blanket and pull it back into place. So much material to cover the expansive mattress made it quite heavy, more so than what William could leverage when laying down.

Torri, a male canid, was half asleep and laying on top of William. His head was resting on the man's torso, the size difference meaning that it alone was enough to cover him from hip to just below his collarbone. The canid's shoulders pressed the human's hips into the mattress and the arms were raised up, either side of the human. William's legs were splayed apart but hugging the canid's torso on either side. They weren't long enough to reach the canid's hips. The human was totally pinned. He may have been able to wiggle free by climbing up the bed, but these kinds of mornings were his favourite.

Canids ran hot, heating the human and with the weather so awful outside, the gentle warmth was bliss. There was only one problem, highlighted when the canid opened one eye and rolled his head upright, his furry jaw pressing into William's stomach.

"Oh! Careful, you're right on my bladder."

Wrong thing to say, the canid grinned wickedly and deliberately pressed down resulting in William scrabbling at the canid's head while complaining. Thankfully the creature stopped and raised himself on his arms before crawling up the bed, easily straddling the human.

"I'm cold now." Pouted William, up at Torri who smirked down whilst gently shaking his head in humorous disbelief. The canid leant down and placed a gentle kiss against the human's lips. William returned the kiss, stroking gentle fingers through the fine, if messy fur along the canid's jawline. They stayed there, enjoying tasting one another.

"Such cruelty I subject you to. I'm sure to lose my job."

"Definitely. I need the loo though, and you need to brush your teeth. Dog breath." William ribbed at the canid while rolling to one side, intending on leaving the bed.

"'Dog'? The little yappy things you showed me? If you're calling me a feral, I can show you feral..."

"Don't you da-ACK!" The human's words were cut off as the canid easily snatched the human up, bringing him back to the centre of the bed with ease. It was always humbling to be shown just how outclassed humanity was on the strength scale. Aside from the races that were smaller than humanity, the rest, the vast majority of the various species, were all stronger and all larger.

It was hard to accept that even if one devoted themselves to being the strongest fighter, the strongest human alive, it only meant that they might be on par with an average member of the larger species. Torri was a canid. The soldiers of The Galactic Community. They were feared by the established species as the boogeymen that came to correct any person, city, planet, or system that strayed too far from The Community's goals. Canids counted in the trillions and each and every one of them had all the equipment of a werewolf of yore.

Claws and teeth. Deadly, strong, fast, incredible trackers and fighters. They hit hard, healed rapidly, and worked with one another with such efficiency it bordered on telepathy. Trillions of canids.

Humans counted in the millions. Not on the planet, in the whole galaxy; a handful of millions. Fighting The Galactic Community wasn't an option. Fighting anyone wasn't an option. A lone human would be taken out in seconds. Even if every human moved as one, the sheer numbers of only one of the other species would overwhelm them, let alone the sixteen member species of The Community and the unknown others.

And what would humanity fight for? Earth didn't exist anymore. William had seen the Sol System with his own eyes. Where 'Earth' had been, was dust. Not even rocks remained. It was... hard... to accept that all humanity's culture and history was gone. Cave paintings from the first human-like creature were just memories. But all was not lost. There was no 'bad guy', no one vocally wanting humanity's destruction. The Community claimed what happened was a horrible accident. An event that nobody could have predicated or stopped beforehand. Whether that was true? Well... that was above William's paygrade. All he knew was that humans were adored by all sixteen races, they were the favourites.

Currently, William's concern was the massive, broad, vengeful tongue that was being slapped and wiped across his face. He brought his arms up to defend himself, shouting and crying out, although his laughter undercut any concerns that he was serious. The canid merely continued, forearms, cheeks, forehead, ears, exposed lips. All were open for him to 'attack' until Torri was satisfied. The human was panting, while wiping his face clear of drool and slobber in the calm that followed.

"Gross!!"

"Don't call me a 'dog' then. Although, that was fun, and you taste good..." Torri drew the last word out into a growl before lowering his head against and pushing his snout into the crux of William's neck and shoulder much to the human's 'squeaking'. Teeth nipped and nibbled until the human was able to extract himself from the canid's assault.

A few minutes later and the mood had changed significantly. The canid was holding his arms crossed, blocking the bathroom door, preventing William from leaving.

"You said you wanted to clean your teeth and you absolutely need to." Torri pointed out, glaring down at the human, pointing with a claw before recrossing his arms. This was the same look Torri gave anyone that he wanted to leave him alone when guarding somewhere, yet the human remained defiant.

"Brush. I want to 'brush' my teeth." William pointed out, emphasizing the point, whilst holding the still squirming creature between two fingers.

"That's inefficient and 'gross' as you say."

"I'm not sticking a bug in my mouth!"

"It's not a bug, it's a type of shrimp and it's how everyone keeps their teeth clean." Torri explained with the air of explaining that water was indeed wet.

"I'm not-" The human's words were lost as the canid, with frightening speed, reached forwards with one hand, and held the human's jaw in one hand, holding his teeth apart through his cheeks, then Torri, using his free arm, merely grabbed William's forearm and brought the squirming creature to his lips. Before William could react, the shrimp had pulled itself into the human's mouth and begun its work. The canid merely clamped his now free hand over the human's mouth with a bemused expression while William squirmed and screwed up his face, feeling the thing writhe and move.

"Don't swallow it. Never eat a dental shrimp." The canid explained while watching the human's face. Within ten seconds, William could feel the shrimp attempting to crawl back out through his lips, where the canid finally released him. The canid didn't bother trying to pluck the dental shrimp from the human's lips. Canids didn't have that kind of dexterity and would more likely leave William with at least a cut. Instead, the solider merely took a step back while William instinctively spat the tiny creature on to the floor whilst trying not to gip.

"There; you see?" Torri bent down and plucked the creature from the floor, before throwing it into the jar of green liquid kept by the bathroom sink with others of its kind. "All clean!"

William frowned, and hated the fact that when he ran a tongue over and along his teeth, they felt like he had just come from the dentist after a clean and polish. Better than what he could have done...

The various worlds and cultures amongst the stars had an infinite array of treasures to behold. They were post-scarcity societies. There were countless wonders that blew Willaim away like every time he got to see space stations the size of moons float through the sky. Then, there were the culture shocks. Reminders that this wasn't Earth, that it wasn't sanitised or what was expected on Earth.

The mere act of 'brushing' one's teeth was seen as primitive and disgusting. Whereas using a symbiotic creature to accomplish the same goal was completely normal. The human breathed in deep and calmed himself. When in Rome... He considered the event in a positive light, letting more of his standards from Earth slip further away.

"It's... kind of minty..?" He admitted honestly.

"That's the way! Now... the truly hard task of deciding what to do today. We could sit on the sofa and watch the new show or lay in bed and watch the new show."

"New show?"

"Aw! I forgot to tell you! They found a 'lapped top'! It's human and they put the show onto the data net. I don't know if you know it or not, you said that there were enough films not everyone had seen everything?" Torri explained, walking back into the living area.

"Do you know what it's called?" William asked, eyeing the squirming shrimp before turning off the bathroom light.

"Something like The Blue Extended Ring Lords? I'm not remembering it right, but it's something like that."

The human paused, before letting hope bloom inside of him. Torri had no idea what he was suggesting. William had to admit, the pros outweighed the cons with living with aliens sometimes. As he watched Torri create a nest on the sofa before patting the space between his legs for William to join him, the human gave a contented grin.

Life could still be good.

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #haso #hfy #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #wolf #canid #werewolf #werewolf bf

96 notes · View notes