#i drew a Near to go with him that also has flat colors with fully rendered pants but this post was already getting too long

[deelavis]

whenever a fanfic says that Mello is wearing a t-shirt I know they probably mean something like this:

but all I can imagine is this or this

Bonus Comic:

Bonus Bonus Shirtless Mello:

#my art #death note #mello #near #mello death note #near death note #death note brain rot #I can't imagine Mello wearing anything practical #Maybe it's just that I can't turn off my costume designer brain but it my mind he must always be doing the most #also yes the long sleeve shirt is the one he left Wammy's in that he diy-ed to be slutty #Also also Mello is offended by specifically by the implication that he's a virgin #I want to tag this meronia but idk if it counts??? I guess just assume that anytime I draw them together they were kissing moments before #i drew a Near to go with him that also has flat colors with fully rendered pants but this post was already getting too long

[sugar-petals]

Please do a tarot reading on bts personality? Thank you

if we’re talking personality, it’s time for the big guns. i promised i’d use this deck to an anon, today we’re doing a shaman soul reading. 

Jungkook: THE RAINBOW

A sign that the end of the storm is near. This card is truly blessed and imbued with great innocence because that’s exactly what Jungkook is. It’s the “everything is alright” signal: The rainbow symbolizes completion of the soul in the Himalayan region where shamans consider rainbows a bridge to the afterlife. Believe it or not: What we see as JK is the last incarnation of his line. His journey is basically complete (!), it is whole. He’s found what we will all find and the end which is a state of profound happiness. There’s a reason why he brings so much ease, fun, and talent everywhere he goes. That sense of lightness and positivity is deeply embedded in him. Brightness, bubbliness, fleeting moods but always optimistic. His personality is all about joy and the feeling of soaring high. It’s not a farce we see on camera, he really is like that. What I noticed is. Since we see a colorful bird dashing forward on a ray of light, I believe JK is headed somewhere blissful, and he’s headed there fast. The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, pretty much. Not just the shamans in Nepal consider the rainbow as an arch, Norse ones do, too. The Bifröst bridge connects Midgard to the Æsir. Jungkook has a sort of divine connection going on. That’s why his personality is dignified. Bifröst is translated to ‘shimmering path’, that he got famous was destined from the beginning.

Hoseok: THE SWEAT LODGE

Hey, Mama. I am not surprised that this card is all about a connection to mother earth and all things maternal. The hut — and the ritual that is behind it — is essentially an image for the womb. Hoseok is looking for that warm and cozy feeling in his life. That tells you a whole lot about the personality we rarely see on stage, it’s a much calmer state. The act of sweating disperses old habits and bad thoughts, this is precisely what he seeks. That blissful, protected place/state of being attracts him, or rather, draws him back into his past. His character is so youthful and cheery because he longs for a space like the sweat lodge that leaves you relaxed, drained from the weight of the world, and without sorrows. What he longs for is purity. He’s let go of demons and phases in his life he’s grown out of. His goal is to feel renewed and being without baggage. Note also that the sweat lodge is a community place. He is deeply social, it’s not an act. Hoseok aspires to be a nurturing figure in the future, and peace is very important to him.

Jin: TAMING THE WIND

Think about it: Something as dynamic as air representing Jin makes a lot of sense. He might be a fire sign, but air is nonetheless strong in him. He is a person who is self-directed and cannot be grasped at any time. Air does what it wants, and few other forces can stop it. On top of that, wind is malleable. It can be completely still, gently blowing, come on strong, or be a flat out hurricane. The different levels of intensity are all present in Jin’s character. As in, he can be the introvert of all introverts only to turn into extroversion embodied. The card tells us about just how versatile he can be. That he will achieve more consistency in the future is represented by the act of taming: Yes, he will settle. Visually, the feather is the most important part of this card. It symbolizes a holy dedication to life and distributes smoke during shaman rituals. It can also be interpreted as a pointer when you’re in alignment. So, I’d describe Jin’s character as something that dispels the old to bring about harmony. Thus, he is wild and tame alike. Very interesting duality.

Namjoon: THUNDER

Next to Jimin’s card, this is the most powerful one I pulled. If you’re familiar with The Tower in tarot, THUNDER is similar. Especially in its spiritual weight. Thunder always hails of new things coming. Namjoon is that kind of vanguard. Even his voice booms like thunder man, that’s no coincidence. That he’s the leader of one of the most famous boy groups on this planet means something dramatic and big coming our way. At his core, he is revolutionary. Namjoon is Namjoon because of his message that’s loud, terrifying to great many a hater, and a call to awakening. I am certain he is on his way to enlightenment, I’m not kidding. Because think about, thunder comes first, then: lightning. It describes his personality progression well: Namjoon did a full 180° in the last years. He did all of his shadow work. This card always says a person is about to fulfill their purpose, so he’s currently at the very brink. He is scared to the core but knows that he’s destined for great things. Like buffalos storming ahead, he is unstoppable just like that. It’s because of him that the game changes 😊

Yoongi: THE PRESENT

Beside the literal interpretation of Yoongi being a present to this world which truly is the case, this card also means unconditional offering in a general sense. You’d think it’s his wonderful music that he has gifted us. The meaning of the card says otherwise, things go deeper, it’s about something that is not material in nature. Only true love and true feelings can fully belong to a person and they can give them as a present. I think this is what Yoongi’s personality at its deepest level is about. He is a generous man. Who is more giving than someone so dedicated and full of tender emotions. The card is also a signifier of gratitude, and I think Yoongi truly is thankful. The winged woman shown on the card lifts up the sun, which tells me Yoongi wants to uphold joy and that he was sent to us as an angelic, radiant being. Lil’ cherub he is. The card is colored in such a bright yellow and orange way, I think he could be a kind of light worker, even, if you’re familiar with this concept. What Yoongi’s aim is at its most basic level is to gain access to the happiness of life. And he wishes so dearly we experience it, too. I need a moment.

Jimin: THE INCA CROSS

Ooof. Oh shit. This card is a massive fucking deal. I’m stunned every time I see it. It has a huge wtf factor. A simple but overarching symbol. To shamans, the Inca Cross symbolizes all directions and dimensions coming together. It even connects the Underworld with the Gods themselves. It also has a hole in the middle, allowing us to travel to a different perspective. It tells me Jimin is the one holding everything around him together with his personality. He is that cross, a compass basically. He has access to greater wisdom. The Inca Cross is a big leap, this is what Jimin essentially is. What he exudes propels us forward and unites us. He can make people change their mind and direction in life. He is only halfway aware of that skill. I wouldn’t mess with him either way, he is the true axis of Bangtan. The crucial (=cross-like!) one, even Namjoon said that. Now what’s also important is not just the cross itself but also the color. It is made of solid gold, a very warm tone. His charm and soothing character is innate to Jimin, and that is a regal feat. It’s very important that he knows his worth, that is the crux —cross— of the matter. Now this is where it gets really metaphysical: That the Inca Cross bridges the lower, middle (Human), and upper realm to shamans in Peru is no coincidence. It tells us Jimin was sent from a place that is not this, aka the middle world. I think even people who are not into spirituality can feel that. He is either a saved soul from the Underworld so this is his first incarnation after a long time or he was sent from the Gods. Because the cross connects all worlds, it could even be both at the same time. And since the Inca Cross allows dimension and time travel (!)… maybe he can do even that. This card is telling me the wildest shit.

Taehyung: HEART OF SKY

During the last tarot readings I drew The Empress for him several times, the energy is no different here. This card has Queen of the Night type of imagery. It’s a very dreamy, whimsical woman immersed in melancholy, dressed in lavish garments. It’s not hard to see the parallel to Taehyung’s character. He is just as nostalgic and concerned with all things that bring more beauty to this planet. That is his purpose. I repeat: Taehyung is here to spread the fine things in life to bring us sophistication and wholesomeness. The Heart of Sky is quite possibly the card most connected to creativity and love. It encourages the one receiving it to paint. We know he’s already an artist at heart, the shaman cards know it, too. Heart of Sky means to pour out your emotions. And to show all your talents in a gorgeous way. The card is just… spot on. Nighttime plays an important role in this illustration, Tae is more Moon than Sun in personality. He’s in tune not just with his divine masculine, but also feminine. Perfect balance. The Heart of Sky carries with it a strong ethical component also, that means Taehyung is figuring out his intent very often. He’s a benevolent person, a creator. A good person, a benevolent heart. He wants the best for everyone, you and me, anybody.

Bangtan: THE SUN 

I also pulled a card for the personality of the group as a sum. THE SUN is pretty straightforward: BTS are luminaries, a figurative giant. A super-star. Shamans connect the sun to male energy so the allegory fits, there’s a bright and positive masculine quality in their work. BTS are a hot topic and the energy is high. Sometimes even overpowered because their solar pizzazz is so ardent — burning out is the #1 danger here. That’s why the members connected to the moon and night (Joon, Tae, Yoongi, to some extent Jimin) are so important to balance everything. Passion, humor, creativity, playfulness are always around when BTS is near. The sun is at the center or the universe and widely seen, the group indeed takes that center spot right now. Many other life forms depend on the sun, revolve around it, BTS and their light are needed. If they fall, a system collapses. The card tells us they are currently at their zenith, truly radiant now, soaring like the winged spirit on the card. Also, to state the obvious: Come on, who’s the sun of BTS? Hobi’s personality sticks out the most, reflects back to the group dynamic. This is his card and time to shine. He makes or breaks the deal and the cards know it. He sets the tone.

bighit: THE JAGUAR

I wanted to see what the personality of bighit as a whole is, too. Unsurprisingly — what came out is an animal who’s a roaring force to be reckoned with. The energy is a lot more competitive and serious compared to The Sun. I find it convincing and see why these cards came out: Lighthearted group, big business company. Now, the Jaguar has a dark side as well as extreme advantages. He sure doesn’t look like the scariest animal ever, but being on top of the food chain allows him to do whatever he pleases: He’ll never be prey. On the other hand, he is protected because he’s so strong. Bighit does have that quality of being untouchable. Much like the jaguar, it’s an undertaking that operated in the shadows for long. We know that Bang PD claims to have the secret success formula and isn’t as public as say Lee Soo Man and JYP. There is a component of mystery, and the other companies are careful because of it. On the light side, BTS certainly have powerful and rational guidance. To give an analogy from the jungle book: Bighit is like Bagheera, the voice of reason, infusing BTS with strength and knowledge.

if you like my readings, support your local tiger on ko-fi 🐅

#holy moly jimin's card #bts #bts tarot #bts shaman reading #tarot #anon #bts oracle cards #bts oracle reading #cub mail 🐅

[strawberriestyles]

Chapter 6

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles​)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: When you’re done with this chapter, please go sign some petitions regarding Breonna Taylor’s case, or perhaps purchase a book about racism and oppression from a black-owned business. Yesterday I bought a few books from The Lit. Bar. During this time, please remember to destress and take care of yourselves, but do not lose your anger and outrage. There is so much work to be done. Xx

Harry woke Melody early on the morning that he was being discharged. She felt almost like she was floating as she drifted around the room and packed up his things as well as her own scattered belongings. The sun was peeking through thin gray clouds and she felt warm.

“Babe, do you wanna call a cab?” she asked, tossing her phone onto the edge of the bed where he was perched, waiting for a wheelchair. All of the paperwork was already completed. Melody had already picked up his prescriptions from the pharmacy. Both of them were beyond ready to leave.

But Harry stared at her, his brow furrowed. Babe?

She waved a hand at him. “Hello? Are you okay?”

He licked his lips and nodded curtly before he picked up her phone. Melody lugged both the bags that she had packed up over each of her shoulders and wandered over to where Vanessa awaited her in the doorway.

“I’m so happy for you guys,” Vanessa said.

Melody grinned. “We still have a lot of recovering to do.”

“Just, please don’t kill yourself trying to take care of him?” Vanessa and Melody scooted out into the hall as another nurse steered a wheelchair into the room and began helping Harry into the seat. “I know you’ve been waiting for this but you need to keep some time for yourself, too. Paint a little, write a little.”

Melody rolled her eyes. “I’m a big girl, thanks.”

“I’m serious.” Vanessa’s eyes were pressing as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “You’ve been there for him and you’ll still be there for him, but you’re also a person.”

“I get it, Vanessa.”

Harry wheeled himself over. His arms were gaining strength quickly but his muscles tired too fast for his liking, and his legs weren’t improving at nearly the same rate.

“Well, he still has therapy with Aiden once a week so we’ll stop in and say hi.”

“She will,” Harry corrected.

Vanessa glared at him. “Don’t make me stick you, mister.”

Harry scoffed. “Yeh’ve seen every one of my tattoos and yeh think needles scare me? Find a new threat.”

Vanessa smiled begrudgingly. She leaned in to kiss Melody on the cheek and then backed down the corridor. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

“Ready?” Melody asked Harry when Vanessa had rounded the corner. He handed her phone over and nodded. She dropped the lighter of the two bags into his lap and pushed him toward the elevator.

***

The ride to Melody’s apartment passed in near silence. She could see that Harry’s mind was working, questions churning up and over in his thoughts. His eyes were unmoving as he stared out the window at the passing city, ruddy leaves littering the sidewalks and Halloween lights already glowing orange inside the window displays of shops. She didn’t interrupt his reflection, even as they passed by the art store where he’d bought the paintbrushes for her birthday gift the year before. They only spoke when the taxi pulled up to the curb outside her complex.

When the driver popped the trunk of the car, Melody pulled out the wheelchair the hospital had loaned them. “Bea is gonna come down and help us,” she said as she positioned the seat beside Harry’s open back door.

“What?”

“We’re on the third floor, Harry, and there’s no elevator. I don’t think I can get you up on my own.”

He helped her slide his body into the chair and then waited as she paid for their ride, but he was nearly shaking when the car pulled away. He had almost forgotten that Bea even existed, and he certainly wasn’t ready for her to have to support him up a few flights of stairs, let alone live in a flat with her. “Yeh’re fuckin’ joking, right?”

Melody’s brows pulled together. “No, I’m not. What?” And Bea was stepping outside just as she finished speaking.

“Hi,” Bea greeted, lifting one of the duffels from the sidewalk beside Melody’s feet. Her eyes skirted over Harry and she seemed to stiffen at the sight of him, as though she were embarrassed, somehow. “Everything go okay this morning?”

“Yes.” Melody shouldered the second bag and began wheeling Harry in the direction of the door. She thanked Bea for holding it open for her and then pushed him through to the foot of the stairs. Her fingers ghosted over his ear when they stopped, and she wasn’t even remotely surprised when he shifted almost imperceptibly away from her. Anger radiated from him.

“Okay, so how are we doing this?” Bea asked. The door banged shut behind her with a rough gust of wind as she stepped up beside the two of them. “Just one of us on each side of him?”

Melody nodded, and when she reached down to slip an arm behind Harry’s back he lifted his hand to grip her shoulder. The relief at being out of the hospital seemed to be winning out over his anger, but he was more reluctant to hold on to Bea when she drew her own arm around his waist, above Melody’s, as he rose to his feet. She didn’t smell like Melody, whose perfume came off warm and sugary, but like fresh fruit and summer, and her thick hair tickled uncomfortably at the crook of his neck. The three of them maneuvered up the stairs, squished closely together between the wall and the railing, and then shuffled along the first landing to the next flight.

Harry was exhausted when they finally reached Melody and Bea’s apartment. Bea kicked the door open, huffing hard, and they led him through the kitchen and into the living room. It was jarring to be here, although he didn’t really feel as though it had been so very long between visits. Firstly, because the walls were a different color. The pale green he’d grown accustomed to here had morphed into a burnt orange, so reminiscent of the changing season outside. Secondly, because his stereo system was stuffed into the corner, beside the TV. And thirdly, because a woman who looked incredibly familiar but implacable to him stood leaned against the doorway to Bea’s room, staring appraisingly at him.

“So, he returns.”

“Shut up, Josie,” Melody muttered, breathing hard at Harry’s ear.

“Sorry, sorry. I was just leaving, anyway.” Josie slipped her arms into a jacket as Bea and Melody settled Harry onto the couch. She side-stepped the coffee table and pressed a lingering kiss to Bea’s lips. Harry blinked. “I’ll see you later,” she said, and then flashed Harry a thin-lipped smile. “Welcome home.”

The words rubbed him the wrong way, for some reason, and he felt his frown deepen as Josie left the apartment. It didn’t help that he still couldn’t place her in his memories. He knew her, he was sure, but he didn’t know if there was something wrong with his head that had made him forget. The thought scared him.

“I’m gonna go grab the chair,” Melody said. “I’ll be right back.” And she followed Josie out into the stairwell.

Harry glanced around the room, avoiding eye contact with Bea. He hated being left alone in a room with her. Not that he hated her. In truth, she made him nervous, like he had to seek approval from her, and he wasn’t even sure why.

“Who was that?” he asked after a few moments, when he couldn’t bear the silence and hoped the sofa would swallow him up like quicksand.

Bea laughed, a short, derisive sound, and shook her head. “That’s Josie, you know, the bartender that served you half your bodyweight in whiskey every night at Brute’s?”

Her face and voice suddenly clicked in his mind, connecting with dozens of hazy memories fully blurred with alcohol.

“I’m sorry,” Bea spoke in a lower voice, taking a tentative step toward him. She sighed. “That was rude. She’s my girlfriend.”

Harry nodded, biting at his lower lip. “What happened to Dom?” He surprised himself by remembering her boyfriend’s name, and her expression showed that she was surprised as well.

“He cheated on me.”

It looked like neither one of them were expecting such an honest answer. They stared at each other, curious and guarded eyes assessing.

“Oh,” Harry said.

Melody burst through the door then, lugging the folded up wheelchair behind her. She dragged it over to the closed doors of her studio and left it leaning there.

“Okay,” she began, catching her breath and fanning the sweat-dampened hair at the back of her neck, “do you wanna go through some of your things and find a place to put them? There are boxes in my room.” Her pulse hammered for a short moment as she thought about Harry finally, finally sleeping in her bed again. Even when they were in the thick of their relationship, he rarely stayed here with her. Her fingers itched to touch him then, but she wiped her palms along her jean-clad thighs instead. “Or we could order lunch and watch a movie. Bea?”

“Actually, I have a seminar I have to get to, otherwise I would join.” She smiled regretfully and wandered back into her bedroom.

“Whatever you wanna do, Harry,” Melody said. She leaned up against the back of the couch beside him, resting her cheek on a forearm.

Harry puffed out a gust of air and tilted his head back. He stared up at the ceiling, which looked as though it had been patched in dozens of spots.

“Would really love a bath,” he said eventually. He wanted to get the clinical stench of the hospital off of his skin, to feel and smell marginally like himself again.

“I can do that.” Melody shot up quickly and began padding toward the bathroom. “Your soap’s already in the shower.”

Harry heard the water turn on, thundering into the bathtub as Bea returned from her room, backpack on her shoulders and her hair twisted back. She waved at him as she left, and Melody reappeared from the bathroom just as the apartment door closed. She helped Harry stand from the couch and supported the brunt of his body as they shuffled to the toilet where she lowered him back down. Steam unfurled from the rising bath water, and sure enough his soaps were lined up along the lip of the tub. His very bones ached to climb in, and he was pulling his shirt over his head when Melody turned around from shutting off the faucet.

“Do you need help?” she asked as he struggled to get his pants off, but he only shook his head. She lingered while he stripped out of his clothes. They fell into a crumpled pile in front of the sink and then he let her help him the few feet across the floor. Harry's feet were clumsy as he stepped over the side of the tub and Melody was jerked forward. She cussed beneath her breath as she struggled to keep upright, and she ended up shin-deep in the hot water. Harry chuckled at her reaction to her sopping wet pant legs as they struggled to lower him into a sitting position.

“Where’re yeh goin’?” Harry asked, catching at one of her belt loops as she went to step out onto the bathmat.

“I’m gonna go change my pants,” she said.

“Yeh’re not stayin’?”

“Did you want me to?”

Harry arched a brow at her. “Well, yeah. Tha’s why I asked where yeh were goin’."

“Because you actually want me to bathe with you,” Melody began, "or because you just wanna see me naked?”

“Why can’ it be both?”

She breathed out an exasperated laugh and looked down at him, at his uneven head of hair, at the unfamiliar gaps where muscle and fat once sat on him and where bone now showed. She used to think he looked like an art piece, but this Harry looked more like a blank canvas, or the map of some unexplored land, and his face was expectant.

Melody crossed her arms to yank the hem of her shirt up her torso. She rolled the material over her head and then shed it atop the pile of Harry’s clothing. He let go of her pants when he was satisfied that she wouldn’t be leaving, and watched patiently as she slipped out of the rest of her clothes. While his body might look new and curious to her, Melody’s body appeared as if some amateur artist had tried to sketch her and used too much shading. There was definition in spaces that he had never noticed. Her muscles moved differently as she bent down to sit in front of him. He didn’t feel positively or negatively about the change, just strange, like he was looking at her through someone else’s eyes.

“Is the water too hot?” she asked.

Harry shook his head. He reached for her knees where they were folded up in front of her, all curled up between his own outstretched legs, and dragged her toward him. She slid forward, onto her shins, kneeling between his legs until they were at eye level. His fingers lifted to her shoulders and dipped down her arms, pressing against the cords of muscle that she’d gained over the past few months. She felt hard beneath his touch, less give. Her fingers curled around the outsides of his thighs to keep herself from slipping backward.

“Do you hate it?” she whispered.

Harry shook his head again. “No. And it wouldn’ matter anyway, would it? Doesn’ matter.”

“It kind of does.”

“No, it doesn’.” He leaned forward to press his lips to her collarbone and then kissed across her chest. Melody tilted her head back as his nose brushed the base of her throat. “And anyway,” he mumbled against her skin, “yeh look good.”

Melody shifted forward again, angling her face to meet Harry’s mouth with hers. Her fingers tightened on his thighs, anchoring her to him, and his hands lifted to brush back hair from her face, from where it had caught between his lips. His fingers were wet and they left water to drip down from the strands that he had touched, plastering it to her shoulder blades. He cupped her jaw with one hand; the other wound around her waist, which was so much tighter than he remembered. Harry chased her mouth when she broke briefly to recover her breath. He held her to him, water splashing up between them and her nipples hardening against his chest, until her hip was pressed against his cock and her fingers were working up his sides, greedy and hungry, and then he pushed her away.

Melody slid back along the floor of the bathtub, her chest glistening as it heaved and a divot set between her brows. She bit at her lip and the steaming water suddenly felt too cold against her skin.

“‘M sorry,” Harry said, rubbing a hand over the top of his head. Droplets of water settled between the dark strands of his hair. “I don’ wanna— ’M not ready for that right now.”

Melody didn’t know exactly what that meant and she didn’t want to ask, so she said nothing. Instead, she settled back onto her bottom and let her legs fold up in front of her again, covering her chest, trying to keep the sting of rejection from leaking into her face. Her skin felt raw and exposed in the wake of the kiss.

Harry rested his head back against the shower wall. Melody looked uncomfortable and he sighed in frustration. He didn’t really know how to express himself to her. There was so much that needed to be said between the two of them, so much to catch up on, so many emotions and thoughts built up, but he wasn’t going to be the one to open the floodgates and he was dreading those conversations.

“‘M sorry, Mel,” he repeated when she did nothing more than stare down at the water. “Will yeh just sit with me for now?”

Her eyes lifted to scan his face, and then she grabbed onto the lip of the tub and pulled herself up, shifting the bathwater loudly with her movements. It ran in rivulets down her torso and thighs.

“Mel,” Harry groaned, clamping onto her calf. She batted at his arm.

“Let go of me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“What?”

“Just scoot forward.”

Harry didn’t move, but Melody pushed him out of the way herself before she settled back down behind him. She stretched her legs out on either side of his hips and wrapped her arms around his ribcage, pressing his spine back into her chest. Harry tipped his head forward and stared at the way her hands fit the sides of his waist. He felt her lips lingering at the back of his neck, and eventually he let himself slip down into the water, his skull perched on her shoulder, her temple pressed to his. And he felt like he could have fallen asleep.

Chapter 7

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles series #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #boxer!harry #boxer!au #harry styles au #harry styles ferocity

[samsexualdeancurious]

At Her Mercy (NSFW)

Pairing: Sam x Rowena

Words: 2,011

Summary: Rowena works a little spell on the younger Winchester. Sam will get what he wants but not until Rowena says the magic words.

Warnings: dom!Rowena, sub!Sam, rope bondage, magical orgasm denial

Betaed by @manawhaat and Amory

Header by @manawhaat

Rowena's scent 

---

Why did Sam agree to this?

He’s not regretting his decision, exactly. Not enough to call this off. He knows all it would take is the word “licorice” and all of this would stop. Rowena would whisper the counter curse and untie the ropes keeping his limbs stretched across the mattress, wrists together above his head and ankles tied to opposite corners of the bed. She would wrap him in a blanket and whisper soothing words, stroke his hair and gently scratch perfectly manicured nails across his scalp.

Sam doesn’t want to stop, though. He’s definitely enjoying himself. He’s also going a little insane and they’ve only just started.

The spell was a simple one - a sigil drawn on his pelvis and a second one on the smooth skin of his perineum. All it took was one word to activate them and Sam’s cock was rock hard in seconds, straining upward in search of a release that isn’t coming. Not until Rowena is satisfied.

It takes a lot to satisfy Rowena.

Sam groans as slender fingers run up the underside of his aching cock, head rolling from side to side on the pillow. Rowena smirks. She’s not even undressed yet, her tiny figure looking elegantly out of place in a full-length purple gown beside Sam’s naked and bound body. She hums thoughtfully, like Sam’s a particularly intricate piece of spellwork she’s trying to unravel.

“Please,” he grunts, hips jerking in an attempt to get more friction. His efforts are useless. Rowena calmly pulls her hand back.

“Patience, my dove,” she murmurs, settling her hand on his belly and just feeling the quiver in his abs. “Just relax and breathe.”

Sam forces himself to breathe but he’s not sure relaxing is in the cards. Not when she’s rubbing one fingertip in teasing circles on the very tip of his cock.

“You’re an evil woman,” he complains without any real heat behind his words.

Rowena just laughs. “You love it.”

God help him, he does.

She teases him for what feels like hours. Hell, for all he knows, it could be hours. Fucking magic. Rowena only uses her hands, everything from touches of her fingertips so light he can barely feel them to firm strokes that are so close to what he needs and yet so far away. Sam moans and whines and bucks on the bed to no avail. He won’t get what he wants until Rowena allows it and that’s not happening any time soon.

“I have plans for this,” she tells him, accent thick with arousal and a dark, mischievous something that sends shivers of fear-laced pleasure down Sam’s spine.

This woman is going to be the sweet death of him.

He’s still rock hard and nowhere near orgasm when she finally stands and reaches behind herself to unzip the back of her gown. Sam’s breathing picks up at the sight of rich purple fabric slipping gracefully from her body, pooling around delicate bare feet and revealing Rowena to be completely nude beneath it.

“Holy fuck,” Sam gasps, taking in the sight of her petite form.

She’s short - he has more than a foot on her - and tiny in every way, and yet she radiates power. There’s a strength in her slender limbs, a set to her narrow shoulders beneath the spill of brilliant red curls, and a fire in those hazel eyes that drew him in from the start. Sam can’t look away from her, especially in moments like this when she’s climbing up onto the bed to straddle his hips and rub her slick folds against the underside of his aching cock.

“Ro,” he whines, staring at where their bodies are in contact.

She laughs. It’s a soft sound, almost too soft for this situation but with something dark Sam can’t define at its core. His cock twitches against her. “Tell me what you want, Samuel.”

“I want to be inside you,” he answers without hesitation. He knows her - knows what she wants and expects him to say - and he’s happy to provide. Especially if it will get him closer to his own release.

“Oh, you do?” she inquires in that gentle innocent brogue. She rolls her hips just so and her whole pussy rubs over the head of his cock, all the way from her clit to the tiny entrance Sam had stared at the first time, completely convinced there was no way he would ever fit. “Look at me.”

He forces his eyes to drag over her body and up to her face. She smiles and leans down to kiss him, slow and soft.

“You want to fill me with your cock?” she asks, entrance catching on his dripping head for a second time.

“Yes,” he breathes.

Sam is drowning in hazel. Right now, his whole world is her bright eyes inches from his and the slick, impossibly tight heat of her body finally - finally - sinking down on his cock. He moans, hips stuttering as he fights the urge to push deeper. He knows what will happen if he does and sure enough, even the little movement is enough for Rowena to stop. A helpless whine escapes his throat before he can stop it.

“Samuel,” she purrs against the underside of his jaw. “Lie still for me, darling.”

He nods, throat clicking uselessly as he tries and fails to vocalize a response.

“Shhh,” Rowena soothes. “Don’t speak.”

She tilts her hips, taking his cock all the way to the base in one smooth motion and a broken moan falls from Sam’s lips. Rowena braces her hands on his chest, impossibly small considering how big Sam is inside of her, and gives an experimental roll of her pelvis. They both groan in response and Rowena quickly picks up a steady rhythm.

“Feels amazing inside me,” she murmurs, tossing her hair over her shoulder and revealing the bounce of her perfect breasts as she moves above him. “You fill me up so perfectly, Samuel. Such a good boy for me.”

Warmth blooms in his chest at her words. His cock is hard enough to hammer nails and his balls are drawn up so tight it feels like they might crawl back inside his body long before he gets to cum, but none of that matters. Not right now when Rowena’s thighs are trembling, her head falling back with a cry, and Sam feels the pulse of her muscles around him. She’s absolutely stunning, back arched as she leans away. She braces her hands on his knees and tips her head forward as an aftershock hits to flash him a grin.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, staring at her as she stills to catch her breath.

Chest heaving, she winks and shakes her bangs out of her eyes. “Yeah?”

“You’re gorgeous,” is all Sam can think to say.

A soft blush colors her cheeks.”Such a sweet boy. You don’t mind if I indulge just a little longer? It’s not often a girl has such a gorgeous treat at her disposal, is it?” She sits forward, lifting up so she can reach his lips and kiss him. “Though you’d be a good boy for me any day if I ask nicely, wouldn’t you?”

Sam nods, chasing her lips when she sits up again. She smiles and traces his mouth with her fingertips.

“So eager to please.” Rowena settles against his hips once more, fully encasing his cock in her wet heat. “Please me just a little longer, Samuel, and you’ll get what you want. Can you handle that?”

“Yeah, Ro,” he answers, voice barely audible. “I can do that.”

Her lips quirk. “Good boy.”

She starts moving then, leaning back against his thighs and spreading her legs so he has a perfect view of where her folds are stretched around his cock. Just that sight alone would be more than enough to push him over the edge on any other night but tonight? Tonight he just flexes his arms against the ropes keeping him in place and lifts his hips to meet her body. The sounds she makes are pure pleasure as she slams her hips down against his, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Sam,” she wails suddenly, body going rigid above him. Her body clenches down tight and Sam groans, throwing his head back against the pillow but never taking his eyes off of Rowena. “Oh,” she sighs, relaxing and clenching again as she comes down from her high. “Oh, darling.”

He smiles as she sits forward, hands coming up to frame his face.

“So perfect.” Rowena strokes his cheeks with the pads of her fingers. “Are you ready to cum for me, my dove?”

“Yes, please,” he whispers.

She smiles, sitting up to resume bouncing on his cock, and one hand slips down to press her palm flat over the sigil on his pelvis. The words are Latin, something Sam would likely recognize if his brain was working properly but he’s too caught up in the flood of heat through his groin. He hears a desperate, needy sound that he almost doesn’t recognize to be his own voice, but somehow he doesn’t cum. Rowena may have lifted the spell but she hasn’t given permission.

“Oh, you’re amazing,” Rowena praises. “Think you can hold on just a little longer? Just until I cum again?”

“I’ll try,” Sam tells her.

“It’s okay if you can’t last,” she says, rubbing a hand over his abs. “If you don’t, you can finish me with your mouth. But I want you to try for me.”

Sam nods and she picks up the pace, circling her hips just so to hit the spots Sam knows drive her crazy. One hand finds her clit and Sam feels her inner muscles start to flutter around him. She’s sensitive and he knows it won’t take her much. He tilts his hips just so and she cries out, and that’s it for both of them.

His orgasm hits him like a train in his gut. His whole body spasms in the ropes, limbs flexing and straining, and it feels like if not for the solid weight of Rowena on his hips, he would just fall apart. His vision blurs and he squeezes his eyes shut, struggling to find his breath.

After what feels like an eternity but must be a minute or two at most, Sam’s lungs start working again and he goes limp on the bed. Rowena is slumped over him, curls tickling his chest, and she lifts her head when he finally manages to open his eyes. She’s so small against him, pale skin flushed and warm, whole body lifting with each inhale he makes. Her lips curl in a smile and she scoots upward to kiss him. Her fingers brush his hair off his forehead.

“Lie still for me,” she instructs, breath warm against his mouth. “I’ve got you, my dove.”

Rowena could flick her fingers, whisper a spell, and clean up everything. Sam knows that. She won’t, though, because magic can never compare to small fingers carefully unknotting the ropes, small palms rubbing sensation into his limbs and working his joints to ease them out of their long-held positions. She retrieves a damp washcloth and wipes them both clean, and then guides Sam under the covers. She does use magic now, to turn off the overhead light. The lamp is left on as she joins him in bed and presses her slender form against his side.

“Sam?” she whispers, fingers stroking his tattoo. “Is there anything you need?”

“Just you,” Sam replies, looping his arms around her waist and pressing his nose to her temple. She smells sweet and musky with a hint of a tartness Sam can never quite put his finger on but loves all the same. “Just this.”

He tilts his head down to meet her gaze and almost loses his breath again at the warmth he finds there, a depth of emotion he knows she’ll never vocalize but she doesn’t need to. The warmth in those eyes puts magic to shame.

---

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—

Team Forever: @mrswhozeewhatsis @laughing-at-the-darkness @tumbler-tidbits @imsuperawkward @emoryhemsworth @saxxxology

#samwitch #sam x rowena #my writing #Supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic

[thehoodsweetheart]

Twin Flames.

A/N: This is something that popped up in my mind. I was feeling a little uninspired lately but knew I wanted to get some type of content out. Tell me what you guys think. Should this be something I continue? I hope it’s not total crap.

Summary: Sometimes you can’t shake a person, no matter how much you try to let go. However, you hand can be forced. This is the case with Isis and Erik. (I don’t want to give up too many details).

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: ??? There are none. I write for Black audiences, Black women in particular. My main characters are Black and that’s that on that. Isis is and will remain a Black woman. 

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      Isis sat perched up in the middle of her oxblood colored crushed velvet couch legs folded beneath her as she diligently clicked away on her MacBook Pro. Isis was dressed in a black mesh panel Ivy Park crop top with the matching leggings. Her wash and go was on day 2, which was honestly her favorite due to how much volume the fizziness gave her hair. Isis’s fluffy coils created a large halo like fro around her head almost like a crown. It hadn’t even been an hour since she landed in Los Angeles from her 21-hour flight from Johannesburg and she was getting straight to work. The soft murmur of Martin re-runs played on the wall of her condo from a projector and providing most of the light in the room. The projector was Isis’s idea after debating with her best friend, who also happened to be her roommate, over an obnoxiously sized flat screen TV.

      She glanced up from her work on your laptop to give a soft laugh at Martin & Gina sneaking into Tommy’s apartment attempting to find out if he was apart of the CIA. It reminded Isis of how nosy her own best friend could be when she felt like Isis was hiding something from her. It was no offense to their friendship. Isis was an only child and somewhat of an introvert. She grew up with the struggle of overly sharing or not sharing herself at all with ‘close friends’. She learned fast it was best to be picky with who and what she shared of herself. Isis was private in nature and her current job only added to it. Isis was awarded the once in a lifetime opportunity of being part of the visual director team and personal photographer to Beyoncé. Yes, the one and only Queen Bey.

      It was 11:11 PM, which Isis considered peak working hours. She knew that she’d be awake editing pictures until well after 3 AM. Isis wanted sort through all her captured footage from her last trip and edit the best images. Seemed like a simple task but any artist will tell you it’s the most challenging part. What if a photo she absolutely hates is one that her client loved? Or Vice versa? The longer Isis looked at the image the more flaws she could find, but wasn’t that the beauty in art, photography in particular?  

     Isis played around with the gradient and shadows of the picture trying to highlight its depth using Adobe Lightroom. She was so fixated on editing that she didn’t even hear the front door open, but the sounds of giggling and the door slamming sure caught her attention. Her best friend Brea was home and she were not alone. Brea was accompanied by a large male figure that towered over her petite frame. Isis gave them a quick glance before returning her attention back to the work before her. Despite not getting a clear view of Brea’s male ‘friend’, Isis felt an odd sensation of familiarity. Isis knew Brea hadn’t even noticed she was there yet because she was too focused on her male companion who was actively kissing and groping her.

“Aye, who is that?” His gruff voice questioned. Brea shot him a confused look before turning on her heels to face the couch. She let a loud gasp followed by a squeal.

“OH MY GODDD ISIS!!! YOU’RE HOMEEE!” She ran over to Isis giving her a bear hug, completely disregarding the laptop on her lap. Isis let out a small chuckle, fumbling with her MacBook Pro so it wouldn’t crash onto the floor, yet still trying to reciprocate Brea’s embrace.

“I know…finally right?” Isis’s light voice followed. She spent two weeks in South Africa, and she had only been home for four days prior to that after a trip to New York. During those four days, Brea was away on a business trip for the NPO she worked for, so it was safe to say they hadn’t had a chance to see each other in a solid four weeks.

“Soooo, how long do I have the pleasure of having my bestie back?” She nudged my elbow.

“We never know. Until duty calls again I guess.” Isis shrugged.

“Well you have to tell me about South Africa! Any fine niggas?” Brea attempted to whisper the last question. Isis couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh, which Brea soon joined in on. Leave it to Brea to be so bold in front of her male company.

     Erik cleared his throat catching Isis and Brea’s attention silencing their laughter completely. Isis’s eyes locked with Erik’s. She finally zoned in on his face. This was Erik that Isis has heard Brea talk so much about in the past months, but nothing of substance. Brea just pretty much boasted on his good looks and sex drive but no concrete details of the ‘mystery man’. Not even a screenshot of a picture of the man had been offered from Brea. The three seconds that they held eye contact felt like nearly an eternity. Her heart began to pound in her chest so much so she could hear it in her ears. It was as if they could see through each other’s exterior and see straight to the core. Brea’s guest was indeed handsome…strikingly handsome yet familiar.

     Erik’s face was one Isis would never forget. His face was etched in marble in her mind. Her mind worked like a camera, her favorite vice. Capturing faces in a moment, associating them with particular narratives. Every face held a different story; all worth discovering yet Isis wasn’t much of a storyteller. She was the observer obsessed with the details of stories in a calculating way. This one in particular was mysterious and how it intersected with Isis’s was less than complicated but not in the least bit simple.

*********

           They met what seemed like a lifetime ago during one Isis’s summer visits to the Bay, on Isis’s father’s birthday. It was the summer before high school. She met Bria that same summer during Summer Bridge, a requirement for the private high school they attended. He was her favorite boy cousin’s best friend. Despite her introverted ways, Isis and Erik linked as if they knew each other their whole lives. It began as a platonic friendship. It soon became obvious that they had crushes on one another but they didn’t say anything about it in respect to her cousin. Then her cousin died and Erik moved away the same year causing them to lose contact. But before he moved he told her, “Don’t trip, I’ll find you one day. I feel like I’ll always find you. No matter what lifetime it is.”That was the summer before her senior year of high school. And find her is exactly what he did, multiple sporadic times.

      It was actually puzzling to say they never kept consistent contact with one another. Like the summer after her first year of college when she landed an internship in New York at the Staley-Wise Gallery, and Erik casually sauntered through the crowd of the gallery on a busy afternoon. He was notably different. More mature in his looks and moved more guarded than the teenager Isis once new, nonetheless his magnetic pull drew her in almost immediately. It was that force that never allowed her to shy away when she was near him, even if she tried. Isis was uneasy with idea of being attached to Erik, because life had a way of showing her that her best bet was on herself. Despite this, he made her feel safe. He was there when the gallery closed. They chilled with each other like there was no time lost between the two. Any time she was free during his two week stay, Erik made sure he spent it with her sparking that old crush letting it fully ignite. When he asked her, “You saved yourself for me?” It wasn’t much of a question. He knew she did.

           Years passed and after graduating from undergrad, Isis moved back to Los Angeles. Isis like every woman has experienced a fair share of cat calling and unwanted extra male attention. When she experienced it one particular night, the ‘I have a boyfriend’ and ‘your man don’t let you have friends’ debate was brought to an abrupt end with a ‘Nah’ from a male voice behind her. Isis wanted to roll her eyes because she knew she didn’t have a man but she didn’t necessarily want to entertain the new unknown voice because he played superhero. She was in luck to find it was Erik. Isis was stricken with awe. She was sure their last encounter would be the final one. Isis came to terms with that.

      Erik and Isis practically bound. What else could explain their unexpected reconnections? Their most encounters recent were in Johannesburg. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since she’d seen or heard from him. She knew of him being in the navy and his plans for Wakanda. Part of her thought he was dead. When attending a museum on a much needed off day, pictures of South Africa’s neighboring country Wakanda acted as a friendly reminder of her old friend.

“What do you know about Wakanda? Almighty Isis.” The familiar predatory voice purred in her ear. Isis whipped around to see a vastly different appearance yet Erik in the flesh.

********

     Isis raised an eyebrow as a sly smirk crept onto her face. The same smirk that Erik held, mirror-like with arrogance. She turned her attention to her best friend. Isis waited for what would be a proper introduction. After all, Brea was oblivious to Erik and Isis’s acquaintance.  She had no clue that Isis and Erik’s once-in-a-blue moon meetings sparked a flame consuming the flesh and spread like wild fire only to be put out not long after it starts. Neither Erik nor Isis was accustomed to the immense connection they possessed, like a shared soul internalizing each other’s pain without explanation, knowing things about each other that never needed to be verbalized. Something about it always savoring the essence of its natural flow and it was still so foreign. Yet, Brea did not know that her Erik was Isis’s N’Jadaka.

“Sorry, I’m being rude! Ice, this is Erikkkk” Brea sang his name. Isis chewed her inner cheek to keep from cringing. She wasn’t sure if it was the way Brea said his name or the thought of Erik fucking her best friend.

“Wassup” Erik said with a nod. Isis coach herself mentally not to roll her eyes. Should she tell Brea? Would it even matter? Could she even be mad at Erik? They never had anything exclusive, ever.

“Hello.” Isis kept her response curt.

“Yo…You look hella familiar like I know you from somewhere.” Erik tilted his head dreads falling more into his face as his tongue ran over his gold fangs. If he wanted to be petty, Isis could match all energy.

“Doubt it…Probably Instagram.” Isis said with a shrug gaining an uneasy look from Brea. Brea was accustomed to Isis being more polite in general, after all she deemed Isis as the ‘nice’ friend.

     If this situation couldn’t get anymore awkward, Isis phone began to ring illuminating with the name Aaron and a picture of her and a handsome chocolate man making goofy faces with the Snap Chat dog filter. Isis sucked in a deep breath breaking her gaze from her phone immediately locking eyes with Erik. She couldn’t believe the situation that was unfolding before her. Her secret on and off ‘fling’ was in her home with every intention on fucking her best friend, despite having a two-week long mind-blowing sexscapade with Isis in South Africa just days prior. Her best friend had no clue and her current situationship was hitting her up for the late night action.

“Don’t ignore my brother-in-law. You know the drill.” Brea laughed. It was too late. Isis missed the call. Isis could only let out a nervous chuckle while avoiding looking at Erik altogether.

“Whatever Bree. I’ll get out of you guys’ way.” Isis said fanning them off while quickly texting Aaron she was on her way.

       She sat her laptop down to get ready to leave. Isis quickly gathered her tote, which was packed with her essentials since she had landed that night. It was no need for Aaron to leave the door unlocked she had a key. He was far more invested than she was but she did care for him.

“This picture is dope. These scars look so familiar.” Brea squinted as she studied Isis’s MacBook Pro.

“Ehhh, you know ritual practices…just something I saw in South Africa.” Isis said looking directly at Erik with a smirk. She took her laptop from Brea as she headed towards the door. “You two have fun!” Isis shot them a wink.

#erik killmonger x reader #erik killmonger x oc #erik killmonger imagine #erik killmonger x black!reader #erik killmonger #black panther rec #black panther imagine #black panther #erik killmonger rec #erik killmonger one shot

[mandakatt]

FFXV Fic - Corqi - Never again

A/N: Sooooo... it’s been awhile since I've written something, let alone something that wasn’t reader insert. This was inspired by this bit of artwork from @asoeiki​ 

Pretty much my muse saw it, slapped me in the face, said hold my beer then told me: “Shut up, we’re doing this!”

I guess I’d consider this soft whump.....? Cause I’m all about that fluff in amongst all the other stuff....so hurt/comfort too maybe? I dunno. But, yes, here, have a thing!

You can also read it here on AO3!

Characters: Cor Leonis x Loqi Tummelt Rating: M Warnings: Major Character Injury, Injury, Blood, Near Death Experience Wordcount: 2810

Staring out the passenger side window of Dave’s truck, Loqi couldn’t stop the soft sigh that passed his lips as he crossed his arms over his chest. He was lost in thought, and those thoughts caused his lips to pull down into a frown.

“Ya keep frownin’ like that Kid, and your face will stick that way. Not that ya ain’t got a resting bitch face as it is...” 

Loqi rolled his eyes and glanced over at Dave before he gave off a soft click of his tongue at the smirk the older Lucian Hunter gave him; while somehow keeping his eyes on the road. 

“Keep your mouth shut and do what I have hired you to do. Drive. Do not speak. I am in no mood for conversation.”

Dave simply chuckled “Ya know, for as much as you think you’re sharp with your tongue, Nif, you’re not.” 

Loqi turned an angry eye toward the hunter. “Do not call me that.”

“What? Don’t like bein’ reminded where ya came from?” Dave inquired, lifting a brow slightly. 

Loqi found himself still scowling but unable to look away from the Hunter. “I could never forget where I came from or what my House—my Country has done. However, I do not wish to be called that.”

He huffed before turning his head to look back out the window, and he sighed quietly as he watched his expression shift in the faint reflection of the window. He could hear the jeers of others in Lestallum in his ears, the fact that they, meaning almost everyone in Lucis, despised him. Hated him. And yet he couldn’t blame them. Not now. 

Fucking Nif! This is your fault!

For the entirety of his upbringing; one of the Noble House Tummelt, he was taught that it was the Lucians that were savages. That they refused to share the wealth of the crystal, or the knowledge that came with it. That they were the ones that tortured souls, and brought one hardship after another to their Star, and that were far from redeeming. 

But then a certain Marshal came into his life, and opened his eyes to things he refused to believe at first. 

And now?

Now he knew without a shadow of a doubt just how blind his country had been. How easily manipulated by a man with power. 

He’d been asked once if he was trying to make up for Niflheim’s mistakes. His answer was always no, he didn’t wish to atone. He felt that with all he had done; and things that the empire itself had done, there was no way to be forgiven. He simply now, wished to do all he could, and he found himself softly cursing Cor again for that way of thinking.

“If you are going to call me anything,” Loqi said with a soft sigh. “Asshole, would be much better.”

The snorting laugh that Dave gave off caused Loqi to look away from the window as he felt the corner of his mouth pull upwards in a slight smile. 

“Alright then asshole, stop frownin’ like that, ya know he doesn’t like to see you broodin’.” 

Loqi huffed softly. “Who are you? My keeper while he is away?”

“Nah, just remindin’ ya that you’re as human as I am. That ya don’t need to lock yourself up in your head as much as ya think you do.” Dave glanced over at him briefly, then looked back to the road and smiled. “...’sides, I know how smittin’ ya are with the guy. You had a boner for him even before—OW!!” 

“It would be most wise of you to not finish that sentence...”

Dave burst out laughing at the pain in his shoulder. “Fuck, ok so ya do got a hell of a swing, alright I get it, asshole. I’m shuttin’ up. I’ll get ya close to where they were huntin’. Hopefully, it’s just the flaky cell towers that have made it so they can’t communicate proper.”

Loqi hummed quietly in acknowledgement before looking back out the window as his mind wandered back to what he’d told Cor before he’d left.

“Come with us. We could use the help.”

“My Help? You believe that those bastards wish to have someone like me along?”

“I think you might be surprised.”

“I think not. They would tolerate me because you’re there. Once your back is turned--I have heard what they said about me, and while they may be right; about what my country has done they blame me for it.”

“Some do, yes. Not all.”

“And that makes you believe I should trust them?”

“....No. Not immediately. But you could earn some trust from them.”

“Earn something that I could never have? Ironic.”

“Loqi…”

“You do know that more would rally to your side if you cut me down and left me to rot.”

“...”

“You cannot tell me that thought hasn’t crossed your mind, Marshal.”

The fact that Cor didn’t even react to his words is what bothered him the most, and he could do nothing but watch in silent horror as Cor simply picked up his katana and left. 

He was roused from his thoughts when the truck came to a stop, and he quickly climbed out without a word. The air smelled of ozone, fire and oil, and he felt his gut flip as a frown once more pulled his lips downward. He had to take a deep breath to calm the sudden racing of his heart. 

“Right. Stay here,” Loqi instructed. “I may be bringing back those that are injured.”

Dave’s brows furrowed slightly. “Ya sure you don’t want someone to come back you up?”

“If I was your only means of escape and transporting wounded, would you want me to come with you?” 

“Ah…” Dave said with a soft smile. “Your gettin’ to be more like him I see. Alright then, I’ll be here waitin’ on ya. Should be safe here for at least an hour I figure. Good luck.”

Snatching his katana from the truck where it had been next to him, Loqi gave a slight nod of his head, then turned on his heel to follow the smoke trail he saw in the air. Where there was smoke, there was fire, and where there was fire...well he was sure that was where he would find what he was looking for…

Though he didn’t expect to find a Mech struggling to get up from the ground when he crested the hill. He paused, watching it rise up only to slam back to the earth as it’s heavily damaged leg crumpled underneath it.

With a soft curse under his breath, he broke out into a run heading straight for it. He had to take it down before he could look for Cor—or anyone else for that matter. 

Reaching the Mech he lept up onto it, giving off a loud battlecry as he drew and plunged the blade of his katana into its weakest point. He heard the machine’s motor whine a moment before growing still. He moved a quick step back knowing he had to get out of the range of it before it could explode.

“There, that should—”

The hiss and soft dull thud nearby caused him to freeze as his head snapped in the direction of the sound. His eyes widened slightly as a rocket had embedded itself in the dirt and it beeped loudly. Once.

“—Ah Shit!” 

The impact of the explosion of both the rocket and the Mech sent him flying and he could only think to himself. “Here you are, the once proud Brigadier General of Niflheim, who was dumb enough to not only get sent flying by one explosion, but two.” 

Loqi was willing to admit to no one that this wasn’t one of his finest moments on the battlefield and with a groan he tumbled in the dirt but quickly got himself to his feet. He rolled his shoulder with a huff and ignored the copper he could taste in his mouth as let his eyes roam over the area. 

That was when something black, and all too familiar caught his eye.

And he felt his heart stop.

Cor was slumped oddly against what remained of a large wall. Unmoving. And that was when he noticed the color red.

“Leonis!” 

Rushing forward he cast his katana aside and slid on his knees in the dirt. “Leonis. Leonis!” Loqi moved his hand to gently grasp Cor’s chin, turning his head slightly toward him. A hiss passed through his teeth at the gash he saw on the side of his head. “Leonis! L--Cor! Wake up!”

Cor groaned faintly and Loqi could have sworn that he had never prayed to the Astrals as hard as he did at that moment. He had to get him to wake up. To look at him.

So much red. Too much red. 

“Gods dammit Cor! Open your eyes...please!” 

Cor shifted slightly with a groan and Loqi had never been more relieved when one of those ice blue eyes opened and looked at him. 

“Stay awake Marshal,” he fished a potion from his pouch, placed it into Cor’s hand and smashed the vial. He hoped it would at least staunch the bleeding as he wrapped Cor’s arm gently about his shoulders and slowly stood, groaning under the weight of the other man. “Come on, on your feet!” 

Cor was still mostly slumped, his legs not even fully extended and Loqi cursed softly at his own height. With a groan he reached forward, grasped at Cor’s shirt front, and pulled. He frowned as the fabric was sticky, and all he could smell was blood.

“I swear to the Six if you choose now to not live up to your moniker you—you Immortal Bastard, I will come after you in the afterlife and I will beat you to death again with a stick!”

Gritting his teeth he took one slow step forward. Then another. His heart hammered in his chest when he struggled to keep Cor upright when he went almost completely limp against him. It took him longer than he wanted to get Dave to notice him, and with the Hunter’s help, got Cor laid flat into the bed of the truck.

Loqi knew he had to go back out there and look for others. He, like Cor, would leave no one behind. With a sigh he reached down to tenderly brush his fingers against Cor’s cheek and felt his breath catch when the older man tilted his head into his touch.

“Take the Marshal and come back for me when you are able,” Loqi said softly as he took a deep breath, and slowly moved away. “If anyone else is out there, I will find them. And keep them alive till you return.”

Dave gave him a look he couldn’t place before he turned to the cab of the truck and pulled a bag from it. “Here take these—” and tossed him the bag. “—I’ll get him there. Safe. I promise. You however, had better stay alive till I come back for ya.”

Loqi simply caught the bag and gave him a nod before turning quickly on his heel to head back the way he’d come. If he lingered too long he knew he’d give up the hunt for survivors in wanting of going with Dave to see Cor to safety. 

If Cor survived—no—when he recovered he knew that Cor would expect no less of him.

He refused the thought of disappointing him further, refused the dark thoughts of Cor leaving him behind, of living up to what the other Lucians truly thought of him. He paused, looking down at his gloved hand, and frowned at the red stain across the black leather.  

Clenching his hand into a fist he resumed his hunt for survivors; which as he had hoped, turned fruitful. With the looks of surprise he encountered here and there he was sure they’d not expected it to be him that came to their aid, and he was not as surprised as he thought he would be when he found tags. He frowned at the shiny objects in the dirt as he crouched down with a sigh to pick them up, he took a quick mental note of the name, before gently wrapping them in a kerchief he kept on his person. As he got back to his feet, he gently tucked them into the safety of an inner pocket of his coat; close to his heart, and he swore to no one in particular that he would see them safely home.

Dave’s return surprised him, he hadn’t expected the hunter to return to them so quickly, but he was thankful that he’d brought extra help with him. And with that extra help they got the wounded loaded into the truck in record time, and he decided to take a spot in the back so he could help keep a young hunter upright and awake. 

At least this way he had something to distract himself with on the ride back.

Once back at the haven, Monica found him as he was helping the young hunter from the truck, and he jumped at the touch of her hand on his wrist. Looking at her he thought she looked tired, older than she had the day before and he realized she said something to him. When he didn’t reply to her she instead tugged on his wrist, leading him to one of the sleeping tents near by.

“He’s inside,” and she held open the flap.

“Is...is he—?”

“Alive? Yes. We won’t be able to move him back to Lestallum for a few days.” 

Loqi felt himself let go of the breath he was holding as he slowly made his way into the tent, only to feel his breath hitch again. White was stark against tan skin, stained here and there with bits of red, yet Cor’s chest rose and fell slowly and evenly with his breathing. Never had he been so relieved to see such a sight. 

His fingers trembled as he reached for him, petting them gently along his cheek. He felt warm to the touch; a fever he assumed, but very much alive.

“If you hadn’t found him when you did…”

Petting his thumb slowly against Cor’s cheek, Loqi took another deep breath. “For years I had wanted to see him this way…”

“...what?”

Loqi’s voice was soft as he spoke. “For years...I had always wanted to defeat him. To bear my place in history as the Niflheim General who would defeat Lucis’ greatest warrior. Cor the Immortal. But—” he slowly pulled his hand away from Cor’s cheek, and he turned just enough to look at Monica over his shoulder as he felt something warm slip down his cheek. “—But I never want to see this much blood from him, ever again.”

“Loqi—”

“...can I stay with him?”

“—Yes, of course.” and he was relieved at her soft smile. “I am sure he would be upset if you were not here when he wakes up.” and she gestured to the second sleeping cot he’d somehow missed when they walked in. 

He moved the cot closer to Cor’s side, and sank down heavily upon it as he watched the other man breathe slowly, evenly. Alive. 

He reached out slowly then, taking Cor’s hand gently into his own.

“I’ll leave you be then, if something changes, come grab one of us, okay?”

Loqi nodded gently. “Monica?”

“Hmn?”

“Thank you.”

She looked confused a moment. “For?”

“....trusting me I suppose,” and he turned his eyes to her as he reached into his coat pocket, pulling out his kerchief to pass it to her. “Even if I am good for nothing other than bringing people home.”

Monica blinked at the cloth in her hands before she realized what he’d given her. With a quiet sigh she offered him her best, yet somewhat tired smile. 

“You are good for more than that, Loqi. I know this. He knows this. And in time...others will too.” she reached out to grasp his shoulder gently, and squeeze, hoping perhaps it would ground the young man just a bit more, before she let herself slip from the tent. 

Loqi was unsure how long he watched Cor sleep before his own eyes grew heavy, and sleep claimed him as well. He dreamed of darkness, and in that darkness felt alone and afraid. Till a soft, gentle warmth slowly surrounded him. Making him feel safe. And he felt himself cling to it just a bit more tightly.

Cor couldn’t help but smile as Loqi made a soft noise in his sleep and nuzzled into his touch. “I’m here...” and he continued to pet his fingers slowly through his hair.

#meraki #Final Fantasy 15 #Final Fantasy XV #FFXV #Cor Leonis #Loqi Tummelt #Corqi #Hurt/Comfort #Soft Whump #I feel so rusty at this.. but here you go! #Actual words from me! #Maybe now the muse will let me do other things too XD

[geminimoonbeamx]

Bucky Barnes x Plus size reader Fingerpainting

Word Count: 2K+

Warnings: Cursing(as usaual, ya’ll know I gots a potty mouth from hell) and teetH ROTTING COTTON CANDY FLAVORED FLUFF. Daddy! Bucky has my whole heart.

Growing up, your household had been vibrant, drenched in color, music filling every nook and cranny. Your mother had been something of a free spirit; You’d been raised on Fleetwood Mac and Jimmi Hendrix, on dancing in circles and bubbling laughter. Now, as an adult you cherished those memories, they we’re such a big part of who you are. And as a mother yourself, you made sure the tradition had continued on.

Made sure your children grew up with that same magical wonder that you had.

It’s what Bucky had noticed about you first, that sparkle in your (y/c) eyes, the curiosity and mischievousness. Cat like, as he liked to refer to them. You we’re his little cat; playful and full of life. And yeah, you had a vicious set of claws, but mostly you liked to be stroked. Both figuratively and literally.

You had this way about you, one that was like sunshine. That bubbly laughter of your contagious, your dimpled smile blinding.

Falling completely fucking in love with you had been easy, natural. He instinctively sought your light and you were more then willing to share it with him, give it to him. Light him up from the inside in a way that made him get a little awestruck because he’d never thought that he’d ever find something like you. He’d accepted the frigidness that had consumed him and here you came, like an Indian summer. All plump curves and saccharine words and butterfly kisses.

And he assumed that it couldn’t get any better; to have a woman that truly deeply loved him. Despite everything… well, what could top that?

And then you’d gotten pregnant and proceeded to set his universe into technicolor chaos once more. He hadn’t even realized he could still have children, that that was still an option for him.

You gifted him with something he hadn’t even realize he’d been craving; his first child. A daughter.

Faye Rebecca Barnes.

Who had your eyes, same spark and everything. But his pretty little up turned nose and his thick, dark hair. She was a tiny hummingbird of a girl, as soon as she could walk she was off in all directions; and he followed close behind, like he always would. Where there was Faye’s chiming laughter, Bucky was close by. The bond that those two had…was something that you couldn’t even fathom sometimes. It was beautiful, to watch them. To know that you had helped to create something so pure.

…Two somethings so pure. Your stomach had never been flat; had always been plush and jiggly, but at the moment it strained out round and firmly, stretching your skin taught. Like some had stuck a basketball under your shirt.

They say pregnancy the second time around is easier. Fucking hah, who ever said that didn’t have a three year old darting around. But still- you tried to stay positive. Tried to focus more on the beautiful parts of pregnancy…even though the ugly, irritating ones came in spades. Oh, how you desperately fucking missed not having to pee every ten minutes.

Baby Barnes number two had made it a game to tap dance on your bladder.

It’s a stormy Wednesday afternoon, nothing particularly exciting or special going on: you’re sitting on the living room floor because its the only place you can seem o get comfortable with Faye, the large glass coffee table in front of you littered with oil pastes and colored pencils. Discarded papers blotches with swirls of color dispersed all over as the two of you drew idly. Bucky was laying on the couch behind you, the one that you lean against, reading the newspaper as Dumbo played on the flat screen in the background.

“Mommy what’s your favorite animal?” Faye inquires, not looking up from her paper and the long erratic strokes she’s making with a teal colored pencil. She was only three, and she’d seemed to inherit your “artistic nature” as Buck liked to call it.

“Seahorses…Or maybe flamingos. I cant decide” You scrunch your nose, focused on your own art. Sunsets and constellations stare back at you, you use your thumb to blend the smooth pastel colors into one hypnotic shade. “What’s yours, Honeybee?”

“Mermaids” Faye shrugs as though its obvious “I like pink elephants too”

From behind the newspaper, Bucky has a large grin on his face. Shaking his head a little at the two of you.

“Is that why we’ve been watching Dumbo on repeat?” He wonders, his gruff voice amused as he reads an article on ‘Stark Industries new Holliday Season Technology.’

“It’s my favorite” Faye nods. Favorite of the week, that is. Last week had been the Aristocats, the week before that Moana.

Bucky could literally sing “Your Welcome” from start to finish. Faye insisted her father be Maui for the upcoming Halloween because he had “pretty hair” just like him. You’d laughed HARD at that, but whispered to him that you wouldn’t mind seeing him only in a grass skirt, your tone had him grabbing at your plump ass.

“Really? It used to scare me a little bit. Especially the pink elephants on parade part. Super trippy if you ask me” You laugh, looking up from your page at your daughter. Her dark hair was pulled up into a messy knot on the top of her head,

“I like 'em. I think they pretty” The three year old defends.

“It does make my head spin a little. I remember reading somethin’ about Walt Disney being all hopped up on dr-” Bucky stops himself, shooting Faye a look “-…Sugar, when he made a lot of these movies”

You laugh. It’s uncanny how similar it sounds to your daughters.

Bucky thinks that’s part of a reason the little girl has such a tight hold on his heart. Obviously, she was his child, and he would love her regardless of what she looked like. But the fact that she was a mini version of you was really what got him.

Faye laughed like sunshine too.

“Yeah I’ve heard that too! And it makes so much sense, this was a trip gone bad…or good I guess. Since you know, its a classic” You add.

“A trip to where, mommy?”

You snort and Bucky puts the paper down a little bit so that he can not only see your reaction, but your response. One of his eyebrows raise.

“Umm, to a place where only adults go. We’ll talk about it when your in college?” You test the waters. Even after years, this whole parenting thing was still touch and go to you.

You didn’t think you’d ever fully have it down.

Bucky’s little chortle from behind you makes you turn around and shoot him a glare to which his hand, the metal one, comes down and rubs your shoulder in apology; his cool fingers massaging the muscle near your neck in a way that had you leaning into him.

You still love the feeling of his hands on your skin, still makes goosebumps rise. You hope you never loose this feeing.

Faye, as usual, looses interest with what she’s doing before her movies even over.

“I’m bored” She whines dropping her pencil “I wanna go swing”

“No, Faye. It’s raining and you’ll not only get all muddy, but you’ll get sick” You try to explain to her the reason why your such a kill joy. Of course she doesn’t seem to hear any of it.

“Daddy?”

You breathe through your nose. Of course.

Bucky was what people call “the good parent”. What you said no to, she’d usually be able to convince her father into letting her do.

She really was manipulative for a three year old.

“Where do you think she gets that from?” Nat had taunted once, looking at you with laughing eyes and you’d shoved her shoulder.

“No baby, you’re moms right. You’ll get really sick and then you wont get to go play at Uncle Steves this weekend. And you’ve been so excited to see Noah” Bucky sides with you, trying to convince her with the promise of seeing her god brother, Steve and Sharon’s one year old son.

Faye huffs and pushes her paper away from her so hard that it, along with a few pastels, flies off the table. She then lets her head fall to the glass with a hard thunk, one that made Bucky wince.

“I’m so bored” She cries dramatically. You know how people talk about the terrible two’s? Yeah you we’re starting to think the troublesome threes were worse.

“Do you want to watch a different movie?”

“No”

“You could come help mama make lunch? Chicken fingers, you favorite?”

“No”

“We could go find Kit? I think she’s scared of the thunder, she’s probably under your bed-” Bucky offers, he knows how much Faye loves that cat.

“NO DADDY” Faye interrupts him with a snap.

“Faye Rebecca Barnes, you do not talk to any adults that way, much less your dad. You probably hurt his feelings” Your tone is not cutting, but authoritive . She knows better then that. She doesn’t look up but you hear her sniffle as she turns her head, facing away from you.

You purse your lips, before leaning your own head back, enough that it rests on Buckys thigh. Your eyes closed. Did you hate making her cry(even if you knew she was just faking?) Yes. But you also wanted to make sure she grew up to be a decent member of society that other people could stand. And that meant teaching her that she couldn’t snap to get her way.

Bucky knew that too…he also knew you had way more resolve then him. So instead of making it worse, he kept his mouth closed and let you handle it. Smart man, your husband.

…as the minutes ticked by, the silence a little overwhelming you realized that you too, were bored.

Making you empathize with your little one. Boredom, the death of creativity. It had always made you antsy, being idle. You feel Buck’s hand in your hair, the metal one, and you get a passing idea.

Remembering a time when your mother had let you and your siblings finger paint on her back…

“Hey, Faye” You call to her, and she mutters a small “What” without looking at you. She could pout with the best of them.

Something she’d inherited from both of you.

“Wanna do something fun?” Your voice is eager and it makes both Faye and Bucky give you almost identical looks.

“Like what?”

You just grin and manage to heft yourself off of the floor(with Bucky’s arm steadying you) and waddle out of the living room, towards your art closet.

“Where’s she goin?” Faye questions her father and he shrugs but sits up, anticipating your next move.

“I don’t know, but knowin’ your mother- it’ll be something messy” Bucky guesses as he looks down at Faye, taking a minute to bop her on her little bun. She beams up at him, grabbing at her hair.

“Hey!”

“Sorry pumpkin” He chuckles, before bopping her again. He’s ready for her when she launches herself into his lap.

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings” Faye whispers against his scruffy cheek as he holds her.

“It’s okay” Bucky scratches her back lightly “I’m a big boy, I got over it”

“Okay, lets do this” You announce as you come back in the room and both of their heads turn to meet you. In your arms, resting on your stomach, is your plastic container full of washable paints and glitters. Body paint…

“Told you. Messy” Bucky tells Faye who squeals and makes grabby hands at you.

An hour later, you’ve managed to lay the news paper that Buck was reading out on the floor. Protecting your rugs from the splashes of paint. The three of you sit on the hardwood, Bucky has stripped off the hoodie he was wearing and now sits in just his white singlet, holding his metal arm steady and still as you Faye paint on the surface of it. Both of your fingers covered in multicolor paint as they swirl colors onto the sleek metal.

Faye draws purple clouds and orange seahorses(or at least she tries) and you work on an intricate, realistic looking array of wild flowers with a detailed sunflower in the middle of them.

He squirms a little as your fingers trace the edge where his steel shoulder meets warm flesh.

“Don’t move, daddy!” Faye barks at him and you giggle.

“Yeah, daddy” You stress the word, biting your lip and shooting him a devious little smirk that your daughter misses “Don’t move”

“It tickles!” He protests with an exasperated laugh, but stays still all the same. He cant tear his eyes off of you, so concentrated. Little specks of yellow paint smeared on your soft cheek, your belly swollen with his second baby. He reaches out with his flesh hand to rub at the bump tenderly.

You’d given him everything.

“I love you, sweets” He whispers, watching your short fingers delicately trace details into the flowers. You look up, breaking your concentration to smile at him.

“I love you too, Buck” You reach up and press a kiss to his stubbly jaw, then another to his chin. And finally laying a big one on his cheek.

When he feels another set, of smaller lips, press a quick peck to his other cheek his heart swells.

“Love you, daddy” Faye chirps, as she settles back down. “Momma do seahorses have three eyes or four?”

“Four” You answer with a smile.

-Okay I know this wasn’t smut but this was requested and I felt like I needed to write some Dad! Bucky because I love him so much and he’s such a cinnamon roll and wouldn’t he just make the best dad? I wanted their daughters name to be something old fashioned, but still interesting because this Readers an artist and I just think she’d want her children to have unique sounding names? Idk. Enjoy. Cry. Do what you must💘😂

#bucky barnes #barnes x plus size reader #plus size reader #dad Bucky Barnes #marvel #mcu imagine #bucky barnes x plus size reader

[lilahiswriting]

Van Gogh’s Road in Etten

Vincent van Gogh was born in The Netherlands during 1853 and died in 1890 in France from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. He was a post-impressionist painter whose work, notable for its beauty, emotion and color, highly influenced 20th-century art. Born into an upper-middle-class family, Van Gogh drew as a child and was serious, quiet and thoughtful. As a young man he worked as an art dealer, often travelling, but became depressed after he was transferred to London. He turned to religion, and spent time as a Protestant missionary in southern Belgium (Biography.com Editors.). He drifted in ill health and solitude before taking up painting in 1881, having moved back home with his parents. In spite of his lack of success during his lifetime, van Gogh’s legacy lives on having left a lasting impact on the world of art. He is now viewed as one of the most influential artists having helped lay the foundations of modern art. (Road in Etten by Vincent van Gogh)

The artist completed more than 2,100 works, consisting of 860 oil paintings and more than 1,300 watercolors, drawings and sketches. Vincent was highly emotional, lacked self-confidence and struggled with his identity and with direction. After meeting the new Impressionist painters in Paris, he tried to imitate their techniques; he began to lighten his very dark palette and to paint in the short brushstrokes of the Impressionists’ style. Unable to successfully copy the style, he developed his own more bold and unconventional style. As his work developed he created a new approach to still lifes and local landscapes. His paintings grew brighter in colour as he developed a style that became fully realised during his stay in Arles in the south of France in 1888 at The Yellow House, where van Gogh hoped like-minded artists could create together, but his nervous temperament made him a difficult companion. Near the end of 1888, Van Gogh then began to alternate between madness and lucidity and was sent to the asylum in Saint-Remy for treatment. His finest works were produced in less than three years in a technique that grew more and more impassioned in brushstroke, in symbolic and intense color, in surface tension, and in the movement and vibration of form and line. Van Gogh's inimitable fusion of form and content is powerful; dramatic, lyrically rhythmic, imaginative, and emotional, for the artist was completely absorbed in the effort to explain either his struggle against madness or his comprehension of the spiritual essence of man and nature. (Impact, The Net.)

In 1881 van Gogh briefly resided in Etten, where he produced a number of drawings of local peasants and laborers performing routine, humble tasks. This piece, in which a man with a broom is seen sweeping a street, is a characteristic example (Road in Etten | The Met.). Structural lines allow our sight to travel from the lower left corner to the center right, and alongside the leaves’ contour lines we find its separation from the sky.  Interestingly enough, contour lines become lighter as we go up the drawing; on the railing and certain trees we can also find the line strength loss goes from left to right. They darker lines are found around the people’s clothing, but turn lighter on their heads, hands and shoes. We find biomorphic form work on some of the trees, but others are too straight or have more defined lines. The cross contour on the ground gives it a sense of volume, especially on the right side; on the contrary, the straight lines from the far right side describes a flat surface. Low key values are present on the top of the trees, and mostly on the left side of figures, although there are some exceptions. Bushes transition from low key to high key values as we go up the drawing. The highlight value is around the center of the drawing in the sky, but it becomes darker as it approaches the edges. The opposite happens on the ground, where the center is relatively darker than the outside edges. 

Road in Etten is most definitely a drawing with one point linear perspective, whose vanishing point we can find around the center-right of the picture plane. The shape of the trees also helps take the viewer’s attention to the vanishing point. Said trees are the strongest compositional forces in the drawing, but the people on the road definitely draw our attention, also. Anyhow, every compositional element draws our sight into the vanishing point, creating an incredible sense of perspective. Behind them all, a perfectly seen horizon line just under the center y axis states an intense sense of space and form. 

It is certain that Van Gogh had a extensive, innate understanding for artistic concepts while he probably didn’t even realize it. Despite being most known because of his paintings, his drawings have just as much - if not more technical value. Road in Etten shows an incredible understanding of space and perspective that we can’t see as clearly in some of his more impressionist paintings. Personally, Vincent Van Gogh has always been one of my favorite artists, especially because of his post-impressionist paintings, but analyzing his drawings has given me a deeper understanding of his view as an artist.

You know what’s absolutely beautiful these days, the road to the station and to Leur with the old pollard willows, you have a sepia of it yourself. I can’t tell you how beautiful those trees are now. Made around 7 large studies of several of the trunks..

-Vincent Van Gogh

14th Nov. 2017

#art #2017

[redroseworks]

Song of Lacy

Lacy looked at the battle in front of her. Another war. It was amazing how long she had lived. She looked down at the picture of her siblings in her hand before stuffing it back into her pocket. Another war indeed.

But Lacy was going to survive. She had to. She wanted a life. She wanted to live on. She wanted… she wanted to live happily ever after.

❤❤❤❤

Lacy woke up in the camp infirmary. She was alive. Thank the gods. She was alive. She sat up. And then she realized. She was missing both of her calves. No. No. She tried to climb out of the bed but fell to the ground. Someone helped her back up into the cot. She felt a bit glad when she saw it was her friend, Kayla.

“It’s okay, it’s okay Lacy. Just remember, you’re alive.” Kayla said.

“My siblings? Piper, Drew, Mitchell, Valentina-

“Those four are injured but alive. Two of your sisters are dead. Charlotte and Lizzie. I’m so sorry.” Kayla frowned.

“How many of yours?”

“Seven. Kinda funny, right? Seven Apollo kids dead.” Kayla said as she teared up.

“Sorry. How many demigods in total?”

“Too many to fully count. Some might just be missing but hey we won the war. And we’re alive.”

“Yeah, we’re alive. It’s about a year and a half until you qualify for the Olympics.” Lacy forced a smile.

“Yeah.”

❤❤❤❤

Lacy knocked on the door of her home. Her dad opened it. His eyes went straight to her legs. Her fake legs.

“Thank goodness you’re alive.” He hugged her tightly.

“Yeah. I’m alive. I missed you.” She choked out.

“I missed you too, my little dove.”

❤❤❤❤

Lacy stared at the mirror. Sure she was alive. But she was ruined. Her face now had scars all across it and her legs were gone. Her body was scarred and burnt. How funny for a daughter of Aphrodite to look so ugly. Especially one who could barely change her hair color at will.

She was only thirteen and yet her eyes looked older. War aged people no matter what. Three wars had weathered her down. Made her even feel old.

❤❤❤❤

Lacy sat down on a bench. It was the first day of the school year.

“Ew. What happened to you?” A nasty voice snarled at her. She looked up to see Drew’s so called friends but no Drew. Even Drew wouldn’t make fun of Lacy’s looks.

“Did the rats in your bed get hungry?”

“It was a car crash.” Lacy muttered.

“Speak up or did you fuck up your throat too. Well good riddance, your voice was annoying, you freaky loser.”

Lacy drugged her nails into her bag.

“What did you say?” A familiar voice said. Drew.

“Oh Drew! Good to see you! Look at what happened to her! She looks like roadkill now.”

Lacy looked down at the ground. Was even her own sister going to make fun of her?

“Say that again and I will break you, Amber.”

“Excuse me?”

“Leave Lacy alone.” Drew hissed at Amber. Lacy looked at her.

“What the fuck, Drew?” Amber jabbed at Drew’s chest.

“Leave her the fuck alone!” Drew pushed Amber.

“Why? Are you fucking the ugly gremlin?”

“SHE’S MY FUCKING SISTER!” Drew yelled. Lacy’s eyes widened. She and Drew never told anyone that they were sister. Like come one? A Japanese girl and a black girl, sisters? It was crazy. And it was hard to explain.

“Please. Drew stop it. Who cares if we pick on her? Don’t lie to save us from getting in trouble.”

Lacy watched in silence as Drew punched Amber in the face. “Lacy and I are sisters. Half-sisters but sisters all the same. And if you ever make fun of her or her friends again, you will have to deal with me. And remember I know so many of your secrets.” Drew said.

❤❤❤❤

Lacy looked at the ground when she saw Sadie. Her best friend.

“Lacy?” She heard the British girl call out.

Soon she saw combat boots next to her pink flats.

“Lacy, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Car crash.”

Lacy felt Sadie’s fingers on her arm. Right on a scar. “Gods, Lacy. Are you doing okay?”

“No.” Lacy whispered.

“Has Tanaka been bugging you about it? Because I will kick her arse if she is.” Sadie said as she took her hand off of Lacy.

“No. Actually she defended me.” Lacy laughed.

“Really? Damn didn’t know the bleeding ice queen could be kind at all.”

“She’s my sister.” Lacy rolled her eyes.

“What? Really? I would have never guess. Though you guys do have the same nose. And you both have this weird look when someone says the names Silena and Piper. Are they other siblings?” Sadie asked.

“Yes… Silena died two years ago. And Piper is our sister who’s the daughter of a movie star. We all have the same mom.” Lacy said.

“Shit. I’m sorry. Which movie star?”

“Tristan McLean.”

“Damn. Your sister’s dad is hot. And I heard she’s a criminal or something. Also hot. Is she single?”

“Sadie!” Lacy looked up at her friend, “Piper has a girlfriend.”

“Oh well. Anyway if I see anyone picking on you for your legs and scars I will kick their arses.”

“Don’t worry about it. Trust me no words can hurt me, I’ve been through some shit and yet I’m still alive. I can take a few nasty words here and there.” That was a lie but she didn’t need Sadie or Drew defending her all the time.

❤❤❤❤

A year past. No war. No battles. Drew had stopped covering up her scars to help Lacy feel better. The war with the Roman emperors had no name for no one wanted to think about it. It was the worse war. Campers who came after called all three wars the Triple War. It made sense since after all they were fighting the three emperors all along. It wasn’t like the Giant Were was a real war, Piper had stopped Gaea at the beginning of the war. Before it when became a war.

So Lacy guessed Triple War fitted.

❤❤❤❤

Another year past. Lacy had learned there was Egyptian gods running around.  And that Sadie was a magician which Lacy noticed was a lot like being a demigod except you could leave if you really wanted to and if you weren’t like Sadie and well known.

There still was no wars. Lacy was glad for that fact. No more wars meant way less deaths and with Annabeth Chase planning New Athens already, life seemed to be getting better for demigods.

❤❤❤❤

Three years. Three years and Lacy was the same age Percy Jackson had been at the Battle of Manhattan.

Gods. Before she didn’t realize how young she was during the wars. So fucking young and yet she had to fight. No wonder Luke rebelled against.

No. Lacy almost slapped herself. Luke made children kill each other. Luke made Silena spy for him. Luke was a monster.

She would never think like Luke Castellan. Even though the gods were bad, they were better than other options.

❤❤❤❤

Four years. Another year she would be an adult. Most demigods barely made it past eighteen. Yet it was possible now for her to live on much longer than that. It was possible for them all to grow old and have families. Thanks to the Romans. Thanks to Annabeth Chase.

❤❤❤❤

Five years. New Athens was finish. Little Olympus and Delphi City were almost done. Annabeth Chase had plans for more cities around the world. It was incredible. Lacy was felt safe. Like she could have a future.

Lacy looked at her face. She was damaged but she was still alive. She was still standing. After war and death and loss. She was still standing.

❤❤❤❤

Lacy looked down at her diploma. She was going to NYU after summer was over. She had her whole life to live.

“Lacy!” A pair of arms wrapped around her. Sadie.

“Hey. Can’t believe we made it.” Lacy smiled.

“Yeah. So I heard you’re going to New York Uni.” Sadie said.

“Yup. And you?”

“Berkeley. I plan on majoring in chemical engineering. I’m going to miss you but I’ll visit often with the help of magic.”

“And I can visit you too. There’s a demigod city near San Francisco. New Rome. Piper and her girlfriend live there.”

“Great. And we have the summer to spend with each other.” Sadie smiled.

“Sadie…” Lacy looked Sadie in the eye.

“What?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please do.”

And with that Lacy kissed Sadie. Lacy kissed her best friend. And Sadie kissed her back.

“I love you.” Lacy said when the pair pulled apart.

“I love you too.” Sadie said as she cupped Lacy’s face in her hands. Lacy smiled.

❤❤❤❤

Lacy woke up. She was sweating and Sadie was shaking her awake.

“Lacy, are ya okay?” Sadie asked her.

“Nightmare.”

“It’s over now.” Sadie wrapper her arms around Lacy and held her tightly. Lacy was safe. Lacy would be safe. She may have lost her legs and had lots of scars but she was safe and happy.

#lacy #pjo #hoo #toa #kayla knowles #drew tanaka #sadie kane #slacy #i wrote 75% of this at 3 am #tw ableism #red rose fanfic

[stories-beyond-fairytales]

Prince of Dreams

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you fell for a Dream Demon?

There was this girl who lived through depression and her only escape from this reality was through her dreams.

There was this certain guy who usually appeared in the said dreams; he even claimed himself as a dream demon after several meetings.

-Their first meeting was somewhat peculiar. It was beyond other oddities that may happen.

The female wandered around  searching for the end of the abyss. She was starting to feel tired, hopeless even, until she saw a blinding light from the other side of the empty void.

She followed what seemed to be the path towards the blinding light, she was anxious to see what the light really is.

As she got closer her anxiety rose up as well, after that seemingly endless walk, she finally got near to the light. The female reached out her hand to the light but it was restricted by a certain force, she quickly drew her hand back and waited for the light to calm down.

The light died down as a body started to appear from it, the female did nothing but stare, she was entranced by the way the light formed a human body.

The female took some time for her eyes to adjust from the sudden light and noticed the body's features. The body opened its eyes and grinned devilishly at her.

The body resembled a male's figure with a lean built, and despite the demon like grin and strange color of the eyes it possessed, it looked somewhat normal and pretty much attractive.

The body was about to speak when everything was slowly fading, the female looked at the body and saw the body lifeless and rotting away, she was horrified. She trembled in fear as she slowly fade to nothingness.

The female opened her eyes as she breathed heavily and looked around her; everything was completely normal, she was in her room laying in her bed.

"Strange..." the female closed her eyes trying to remember the surreal dream.

-The second and third meeting were odd, but it cannot be compared to their first.

Their second meeting was also took place in her dream. That certain body once again appeared in her dream and flipped the setting into a darker one. Then the body once again did it for their third meeting.

-After meeting the body several times, the nightmares became frequent as well.

Each nightmare has its own difference, most of her nightmares are near to reality but with a tint of strange madness in it. It made her scared and vulnerable, it made her face her fears nonetheless.

She have let the darkness consume her, until the demon saw that drastic change. She held no more of those interesting reactions, every response she could muster once turned to a bland stare.

-The body and her once again met, this time no horrifying dreams, just the dark endless void and their presence.

"Who are you?" The female thought as she blandly stare at the body, the body's grin turned into a smirk.

"Nice question kid, but I'm not allowed to say that." The body said, its voice sounded like a male's voice.

"Did he just read my mind?" The female asked a rhetorical question to herself. The body's smirk widens even more.

"I did."

"Wait a second, you called me kid. I am not a kid." The female glared at the body.

"Maybe you're not physically, but based on my observations, you are pretty childish."

"You observed me?" Her tone sounded like she's demanding an answer.

"Of course I did."

"Why did you?"

"Observing you and playing with your pretty dreams is interesting." The body smirked smugly before introducing himself.

"I'm not allowed to say my name, but I shall tell you what am I. I am a dream demon and don't you dare use it as my pronoun for my preferred one is he."

The female giggled as she heard the dream demon's introduction. The dream demon's toned sounded agitated about the pronouns.

"Take me seriously. I can still give you lots of damn nightmares." The dream demon threatened with seriousness present in his tone.

"Finally her cute reactions are back." The demon thought and proceeded on talking with the female.

Time passed by as they keep on talking on the dark endless abyss until everything was fading once again.

"You're waking up."

"Huh?"

"When everything starts to fade it means you're waking up."

"Goodb-" The female's sentence was cut off.

Her body jolted awake, she looked around and sighed.

"Back to reality, I guess."

-Time went on and the nightmares stopped. Casual talk were exchanged every time, each dream was spent on exploration of dreams and adventures.

The dream demon became her best friend, and someone she can cry on. He's the one who was there in the time of need.

But as months passed, she slowly fell for her only friend. The female got scared about it, she doesn't want to lose her only friend so she kept quiet.

The female strolled across the dark void, everything slowly began to change, objects began to morph around her and the scenery changed.

"This place is beautiful." The female breathlessly said and stared at the scenery, clearly in the state of awe. The place was beautiful, a field with a perfect view of the sky with fluffy clouds, trees that were scattered nicely and flowers bloom beneath it.

The place is so calm, it seemed perfect, that nothing can go wrong. There was a twinge of smile present in the female's face.

She ran towards a tree shade and sat down, she gently touch a flower petal before she picked up flowers and made a flower crown for herself.

"I wonder if I should make one for him as well."

"Make one for who?" The dream demon said startling the female, he sounded amused to see the female blushing lightly.

The dream demon chuckled at the fact that the female doesn't knew that he can read minds. For the dream demon, the female's thoughts were cute and adorable; he wasn't supposed to feel that way, it was bounded by their law that they cannot love for they shall be sent back to human world with lesser power.

They both shook the thought away and the demon dragged the female somewhere.

"Come for a while, I have something to show you. Just trust me, okay?"

"I do trust you, but still, where are you taking me?"

"Just wait, I promise you it'll be good." He smirked and snapped his fingers to blindfold the female momentarily, he continued dragging the female towards his surprise.

The excitement and anxiety fueled up the female's curiosity even more. The female heard another snap from the dream demon and felt that her clothes changed from the one that she wore to a sundress and her sneakers to flats.

"Did you changed my clothes?" They both stopped walking for a while and let the female feel what she is wearing.

"Wait, that kinda sounded wrong." She giggled at the realization and continued to walk. After what seemed like an endless walk, the demon stopped.

"We're here!" The demon excitedly announced, he went to the back of the female and slowly removed the blindfold. "Are you ready to see it?"

The female nodded and fully removed the blindfold. The female took few minutes to adjust her eyesight, she squinted her eyes a bit to see if it fully adjusted. The view was even better than earlier; a gazebo near trees and a clearing in the middle with grass and flowers in it. A lake was beside the gazebo, and a great area to stare at the countless stars.

"Eat. We have food here." The dream demon guided the female to her seat and offered her food.

They both ate silently while the female blushed, she averted her gaze away to not create any awkward eye contact but as soon as she stole a glimpse, their eyes met which only worsened her blush.

"Finished already?" The demon looked skeptically at the female's meal, she replied with a simple nod and smiled at him.

"Let us check the stars."

"Sure. Besides I have something to tell you."

"What will you tell me?"

"Later, when we look at the stars. That would be the time." He smirked to no one in particular and led the female to look at stars.

"This seems nice." The female continued smiling and enjoyed the serene silence. The dream demon suddenly hugged the female and muttered something.

"Sorry, I didn't caught what you said. Can you repeat again?"

"I said I like you." The demon repeated bluntly before he smirked again. The female was shocked, she stayed silent and processing what just happened but a bright red. blush was evident in her cheeks.

"I, um..." She tried uttering out a coherent sentence but failed miserably. "I like you too." She muttered out weakly.

The dream demon released the female from the hug but only to be caged once again by the female.

"Damn it! I thought if I ever confessed, I'd lose you." She frustratedly said but with a touch of relief can be heard in voice.

The demon held the female's cheek and tilted it upwards to face him, he stared at her eyes and wiped the tears away.

"Smile for me." He requested and tried forming a smile in the female's lips; which resulted for the female to smile lightly and giggled.

"That's better. Smile more, you're more beautiful when you smile." He pecked the female's lips.

"Stop the surprise attacks!"

"But it's fun to see you blushing."

They both stared at each other's eyes, the dream demon leaned forward; inching closer he cupped the female's cheek and closed his eyes to kiss her.

Before the female even closed her eyes, everything started to fade once again, she continued to close it.

"I'm already waking up."

"Don't worry, I'll make it work."

The female slowly opened her eyes and looked around, she turned off her alarm and went on doing her daily routine.

-The female wondered about what the dream demon said to her; she did not even realized that she already arrived at her school.

She sat down on her assigned chair and gazed outside; still drowned in the sea of thoughts. Her thoughts came to a halt as soon as she heard squealing girls.

"Hey, did you know that there is a new student in this class?"

"Huh?"

"You're not updated?"

"I bet he's hot."

"Are you sure the transferee is a guy?"

"Hella!"

The door was opened by someone and the looks of each students were transferred to it, they all stared at the transferee as he proceeded to the blank seat beside the female. The transferee leaned to the female's side.

"Told you I would make this work." The demon smirked at her, it took the female time to process what did he said.

"Oh yes you did." The female replied, the demon kissed the female's lips and pulled away quickly.

"You're my prince of dreams."

#fluff #this was not supposed to happen #shitty af #I was expecting fluff tbh #oneshots

[oliveshoe]

I met Caroline through my involvement in the Junior League of Anderson County and through mutual friends at some point over the last couple of years. In December, I went to a cottage meeting at her house (a Junior League meeting in a house setting, not the typical public meeting place) ….and immediately told her I wanted to add her to my list for the creative home tour…

Caroline and Wes are welcoming, wonderful parents of two adorable boys – Wesley (2 1/2) and Tommy (almost 1), active in the community and just genuinely nice, real, good-hearted people – and bonus that they are a blast to hang out with, too!

I was immediately drawn to their home partly because of the use of color, the musical influence, and the pops of mid-century modern that sing to you and surprise you around every corner. All themes that are near and dear to my heart. It honestly wasn’t until I went to photograph their home that I noticed so many more of the details…so much personality thoughtfully and wonderfully packaged into this John Holman house made into the Edwards home, nestled into the heart of one of Anderson’s older residential neighborhoods. I probably asked Caroline a million questions as we walked around the house snapping photographs and chatting.

Like old friends – as I’d imagine Caroline makes everyone feel whether you’re new friends or from years past – we arrived in the driveway at the same time and walked in through the garage, so we’ll start the tour from that direction.

Me: When was the house built?

Caroline: 1968

How long have you lived here?

Caroline: 4 years this past March

Me: Do you have a favorite piece of furniture?

Caroline: (Immediately, without hesitation) Oh, the coffee table in the living room – AND the only thing we have bought at full price, we’re bargain hunters, you kno. It was our Christmas present to ourselves when we were engaged and immediately went into storage, but we had to have it.

Me: What about a favorite room?

Caroline: Probably the family room – it’s just our cozy place where we play with the babes and hang out as a family.

Me: How would you describe your style?

Caroline: The word eclectic is way overused. I like a little fancy. I like old. I like surprises.

Me: I love that you threw the word “surprises” in there.

Caroline: I LOVE finding things at yard sales or around town or just out and think THIS. IS. PERFECT. I can’t wait to take it home and give it new life.

Me: Love that. Just love that.

From the garage, you enter into the breakfast area, visible from the kitchen and perfect for family meals:

Oh, by the way, meet Mac (short for McFly – yes, as in Marty)…we became fast friends, and he photo bombed a lot of pictures. I decided not to edit him out, because, well, I like real life.

I love the peek through shelving in their kitchen and the way color flows throughout their home.

The Edwards’ dining room is right off the kitchen, which flows easily into the living room. We’ll come back to the family room/den that you got a peek of from the breakfast area.

(Above) This is probably one of my favorite shots from their house. The combination is just dreamy…like I said, music to my eyes.

They have carried the same color scheme into the living room, playing up the tangerine and peach combined with the seafoam and muted aqua. I love the use of monochromatic paint colors on the walls and trim in these two rooms.

The living room opens up to the entry, and I’m super jealous of her double front door.

When I leaned in to take a close up of her little gathering of frames I asked, “Is this a Christmas card?”

Caroline went on to tell me, “My sister-in-law’s Dad told her to keep one thing from Christmas out all year so when you see it, you get that little spark of excitement for the Christmas season.”

I love that about doing these home tours, part of the fun is getting the stories behind what people choose to put in their homes. It’s the difference between what makes a house into a home.

I told her, “I think this is my favorite item in your house.”

Peeking back around the corner before we head down the hallway, is the Edwards’ family room.

The musical influence in their home is clear, especially in this room and the next. Wes, of family owned music store Draisen-Edwards (also agent at Wes Edwards Nationwide in case any of you are in need of such thing), has made instruments and musical influence part of the decor in the Edwards home. Which, coming from a musically inclined family who does the same, I found very endearing and again, music to my eyes.

First stop down the hall is Wes’ music room, an eclectic (sometimes the word is just the right one to use) mix of instruments and art, including a Chicken Man palm tree.

Just down the hall is the powder room, a fun space that I failed to photograph fully, but you can get an idea:

…and across the hall is the nursery, peaceful and light, with a little bit of a farm animal thing going on (but carefully selected, artful farm animals). I am smitten with the lamb that is at the core of a future gallery wall, along with the precious boys. And please notice the GORGEOUS changing table.

Further down the hall we find the master, and I have to say, “my favorite item” was definitely a toss up between the Christmas card in the entry and the framed piece of paper over Caroline’s nightstand.

Let’s take a closer look. See that sweet little “Caroline and Wes” with the doodled bird at the end? Wes drew it, and it became their Save-the-Date. See what I mean? The details!

This room is also home to their favorite (and hardest) DIY project yet, the master bath. Check out this beautiful bathroom.

Thanks so much for joining this tour, and stay tuned next month! I still owe you February’s before’s of the Tally Carlisle’s new abode, too!

Have a great weekend!

Previous Creative Home Tours:

A Breath of Fresh Air | The DeBrews

Life Collected | The Menses

A House for Entertaining | The Gillespies

A Rejuvenated Ranch On The Carolina Coast | The Doanes

A Young House Full Of Love (and Art!) | The Youngs

Stylish, Southern, Loving, Lived-In Home | The Bibbs

House on Hilltop | The Befores

Claire’s Creative Twist on Minimalist

Dorothy’s Greenville Flat

If you have or know of a creative space with interesting color, textures, and style that you’d like to see featured, I’d love to come take a look and even snap a few photos – please email me at [email protected] and let’s have a chat!

In an ode to one of my previously mentioned old favorites…There’s no place like home!

The Olive Shoe | Paperie & Design | Celebrating Creativity and Creatively Celebrating is designed and run by Laure {LAC} James © 2016 LAC James All Rights Reserved.

Lauren {LAC} James is a Sr. Designer of Product Graphics for an international manufacturing company by day and a creativity crusader, designer, planner extraordinaire, artist and blogger in her “free” time. Follow her and The Olive Shoe on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest or Instagram! Please subscribe to receive emails, and of course, come back and visit again soon!

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The Creative Home | Music to My Eyes | The Edwards #home #diy #decor #interiors I met Caroline through my involvement in the Junior League of Anderson County and through mutual friends at some point over the last couple of years.