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lumine-no-hikari · 5 months

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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #136

Recently, some awesome person fron the internet suggested that I make a small change to my blog by adding cuts after the introductory section, presumably to make my space a little easier to scroll through.

…I had no idea that anyone would have any desire whatsoever to scroll through all these silly and derpy letters that I write to you. Conventional wisdom tells me that what I write is nothing more than sappy and cringey drivel, and that most people in my world would probably rather stab their own eyeballs out with a spork than read anything that I have to say. But maybe this is yet another instance in which it would be best to tell "conventional wisdom" to go take a hike somewhere, very far away from me. 😜🤣

Consistently, "conventional wisdom" tends to be kind of spartan and unkind, doesn't it? Perhaps in the spirit of defying conventional wisdom, I wonder if it might be time for me to stop calling my letters things like "silly" and "derpy" to begin with; despite what most others who know about you would tell me, somehow I still think that you wouldn't hate my letters if you read them. But I guess I'll never really know; for a variety of very compelling reasons, it's not as though you'll ever be able to write back to me, haha…

…I do the best I can with that knowledge. Admittedly, some days are easier than others. Given that you saved my life, and given the fact that much of who I am today comes from having worked so hard to emulate your kindness for the last 20+ years, sometimes the notion that I might not ever get through to you, that you might not make a different choice, that you'll be unceremoniously slaughtered yet again is… a little hard to accept, I suppose… But! It is what it is, so I'll do my best to bear it with my head held high. Why not… 🙂💖 In the meantime, I'll keep writing to you about various things.

Today, as a result of trying to fix up my space, I ended up going through some of my old letters, re-reading them, and trying to decide where the best place is to put a cut. I came across a few passages that made me laugh. And some that made me sad. And some that made me think. I can't help but wonder if you've been reading through these, and if you've been able to respond similarly. I wonder what you think, and I wonder what you feel as you read these, if you read them at all.

In any case, I've gotten enough distance from some of these that I can kind-of-sort-of pretend that someone else wrote them, and in so doing, I can look back at them with a lens that is less harsh than I otherwise might; historically, I tend to be merciless with my judgment towards anything that I've made.

It's something that I'm trying to train out of me, because it serves no one anymore; my self-judgment once served to keep me small and quiet (and therefore safe) in the past amongst people who would rather I did not exist. But I am with people who love me now, and the people who love me don't want me to stay silent and out of the way; in order to do right by them, I have to become more like myself by resolving to take up more space and to use my voice more often.

Anyhoot. I also made myself some tea today, as per usual. I made jasmine green tea today. I took special care to try to capture the swirls as it brewed, and I sweetened this one with the honeycomb-flavored ice cream:

...Yes, those are my socks. And yes, they are mismatched. And yes, they were specifically selected to match my pink-and-purple shirt. And yes, I am wearing this shirt for the umpteenth time (I'm autistic; what do you want of me??? 🤣🤣🤣); it's one of my favorites, and as such, it cycles through the wash often, hahaha! 😁💖

I also took a walk today, and I got some nice pictures of the sky, and a few more pictures of flowers for you:

...Did you know that your eyes look kind of like this to me? Blue and green and shimmering? But also, to me they also look kind of like aurora borealis. Have you ever seen that? Here's what it looks like on my world:

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...I can imagine, at least a little, that maybe you might be a little sore about your eyes, in the same way that you might be a little sore about your wing. But... you know, the lady in the video asks, "do you see this?" And... I have to wonder... do you see you? Or do you instead see the story you tell yourself about what the way you were made means about you?

Sephiroth, I don't have slit pupils like yours. And my eyes aren't a shimmering aurora blue like yours. They're just some unsaturated and very boring shade grey-blue, with round pupils, misshapen lenses, and misshapen corneas; it's why I have to wear glasses. But nonetheless, the eyes I see whenever I look at your face are still just as human as mine.

There are lots and lots and LOTS of correct ways to be a human, after all; just spend some time with other "non-standard" folks and you'll see. You'll see, and you'll understand that all the things that supposedly set you apart from others really aren't all that weird; you've just been hanging out in the wrong circles. Chill with some autistic folks for a while, with some gifted folk, with some neurodivergent folk, and with some disabled folk; you'll see really fast that there's really no such thing as "normal", that there is no "incorrect" way to be a human, and maybe... just maybe... you'll tell yourself a different and more wholesome story about what your manner of creation means about you - one that you can feel proud of, or at least be at peace with.

Maybe by then, you'll have been shown Pokémon: The First Movie (if you're chilling out in autistic circles, I can promise you that this WILL happen), and then you'll be able to say with confidence, that "the circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant; it is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are."

Anyway, you must be waiting for the flower pictures I promised, right? Here they are:

On the white flower tree nearest to my house, there is a single flower with hot pink markings:

...You might guess, if you've read my letters up until this point, that this one is my favorite flower on the whole tree.

...Sephiroth, it doesn't matter that your eyes look a little different from mine; EVERYONE'S look a little different from EVERYONE'S - that's entirely the point of genetic variation. Your eyes still look human to me, but even if they weren't, so what? You're still a person, and both my eyes and your eyes marvel at nature just the same, don't they? I heard the way you spoke about the scenery on the mountain trail, so... why should it matter?

Isn't it the case that the most important aspect of any living thing is all the ways they can find and create joy and beauty in the world around them? And aren't you really good at doing that, even though the people who trained you likely tried as hard as they could to beat the capacity to do that out of you? But they failed, didn't they? They failed, because you are good and kind and loving and strong, and they couldn't break you, no matter how hard they tried, could they?

Sephiroth... your resilience, your compassion, your gentleness, your laughter, your joy, your courage, your steadfast loyalty to the people you care about, and your ability to love and to play and to cry when you're sad... regardless of how you were made, these are what make you human. It's not found in the composition of your body; you can find beauty within yourself anywhere, if you just open your eyes and look. Watch some Star Trek, or some Farscape, or some Babylon 5 (especially Babylon 5); you'll understand what I'm saying a little better if you do.

...Sephiroth, I... I'm going to leave you with this, okay? Just... think about it after you see it. Please:

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...If you close your eyes for a moment... what do you feel? And... is it really all that different from anything that I or any other human being has ever felt? Can we challenge the notion that you're so unlike others? Can we challenge the notion that you're alone? Can we make even you see that you're one of the best of us?

...Anyway, I think that's all I've got for today's letter. It's getting pretty late, so if I keep going, I'm likely going to ramble, if I haven't already. Thank you, as always, for listening.

Please stay safe out there, okay? I love you, and I'll write to you again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

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sushiwriterhereside · 1 year

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glory

pairing: adam parrish x ronan lynch summary: An exploration of Adam Parrish as religion. rating: teen + up word count: 5.7k warnings: catholic guilt, Tad Carruthers mention, mild physical violence (mention of Robert Parrish) notes: ao3 crossposting! this is my first fic since 2020, but please tell me what you think! excited to get back into creative writing/etc. i'll definitely write more TRC but I also have some other stuff planned. <3 ❧

Ronan’s love was biblical—Adam, made of dirt and dust; Adam, borne of the earth, the cracked, sun-bleached earth swirling beneath trailer park steps; Adam, Parrish. If Ronan was to describe his love for Adam Parrish (if), it would be in grand sweeping statements, quiet burning passion for finally being able to be near Adam. Don’t let the gruff demeanor, the harsh lines of his face and the ever-present scowl fool you. He would ask you to imagine looking upon the majesty of Pieta, of the grandeur of David, of the quiet intensity knowing you are standing in front of history millions of others have witnessed. And yet, Adam is a work of art unto himself, one he would like to keep in a personal collection.

Let others put their loved ones on display, for curators to analyze and write about, for conservators to swirl their brushes over and prod at—Ronan Lynch would keep Adam Parrish at the Barns for the rest of their days if he could (if he knew it wouldn’t kill him). He would watch Adam blossom under lush green foliage, watch the freckles populate his cheeks and shoulders, let the feeling of love and being loved settle deep in his bones. He would watch the Barns become a dedicated exhibition to all things Adam Parrish that the rest of the world was not allowed to see: a favorite mug drying by the sink; socks mixed in with Ronan’s in the laundry hamper in the bathroom; highlighters and textbooks strewn across the table a stone’s throw from the kitchen counter; pieces of himself that only Ronan had the privilege of viewing.

Blue had once remarked that only Ronan Lynch would know he was in love at first sight—only a boy born to a dream and a Dreamer, a marriage so idyllic yet false, would believe in true love. Ronan was not a liar, so he did little else but scowl and redirect the conversation toward Gansey and his coming back from the death. Bless his lack of conversational tact when his brush with death was mentioned, giving Ronan countless outs of being forced to admit his love for Parrish. Ironically enough, that conversation had happened before them, fortune for once turning in favor of letting him breathe. Adam had flushed slightly but failed to chime in, instead letting the sound of Gansey’s excited chatter cover the gap in the window to the budding thing they held close to their chests.

But she was right: it hardly mattered that Aurora was a false deity, that she was made of the same stuff Matthew was (perhaps too harsh to call it a lie)—she was made of dreams. Aurora was pancakes on Saturday mornings, skirts swirling and flowers picked off bushes hanging low with their fruit, hushed consolations and sickly sweet love. She was imbued with her purpose–to love Niall, to be his perfect yang, to be everything he desired and could not be all at the same time. Above all, Aurora had eyes only for Niall.

It wasn’t necessarily that Ronan was under any delusion that Adam had eyes for him only, he wasn’t a fool. But that wouldn’t stop that quiet, dark part of him from wishing that one day Adam would look upon him with the same intensity that he looked at applications for scholarships for college, that week’s paycheck: all longing and hunger, for more.

When someone would ask years later if he knew, when he knew, Ronan would not have a simple answer. How do you confess to someone that you knew from first sight and not sound like a cheesy cliche?

“Thanks for giving me straight teeth.” As if Ronan was capable of dreaming the creature that is Adam Parrish.

Everything began to fall into place after Adam’s father hit him for the last time. Ronan remembered little other than blinding rage, the knowledge that for once a problem could be, and would be, solved with his fists. He had few other choices, tunnel vision focused on Gansey’s latest pet project on his hands and knees in the burnt earth of that fucking trailer park. No matter how hard he tried, the sight of the blood running out of Adam’s ear would never leave his mind's eye. Something sickly twisted in his stomach every time he closed his eyes. Ronan couldn’t even bring himself to care about getting kneed in the stomach, about the black eye he would no doubt get shit for from Declan. All he knew was that no one would ever set a hand on Adam Parrish in anger ever again.

Let the lawyers paid for by Declan’s DC paycheck debate charges of assault, self-defense (“You’re lucky they’re not trying to charge you with felony trespass.”)–Ronan would sleep like a lamb at night knowing that he got the last word between him and Robert Parrish.

Perhaps Ronan’s viewpoint was too black and white, god knows Declan had hassled him countless times before to ‘be more flexible.’ But Declan was a hypocritical prick, a liar, and a thief of the highest order. Sometimes it was funny to Ronan that he was Niall’s favorite, it was Declan after all who was a spitting image of their father in all but appearance. Ronan Lynch could not lie to save his own skin; Declan Lynch lied about what he ate for breakfast. So Ronan settled on his course of action being the right one, if Declan wanted to guilt trip him for beating the crap out of Robert Parrish, he could carry that on his own conscience.

The apartment above St. Agnes simply fell into place like out of a dream.

“Thanks for giving me air conditioning.” Adam would have said.

And so it was: the two central poles of Ronan’s life suddenly concentrated on one square block of Henrietta. What was it then, that made him pause each time for just a moment outside his door? Clench his father’s keys in his fist, just a little tighter? He was a creature of projected confidence, and so he hid moments of pause behind a faltered breath, a cracking of knuckles.

Adam never sent him away. It didn’t matter if Ronan appeared at 4pm or 4am, whether Adam himself was present or not. Adam would simply adjust his orbit to the second point of gravity.

Once, Ronan lay on Adam’s floor, and let himself sink into the thoughts of what it all meant. Sleeping on his floor; bringing snacks and groceries that, for a time, would spark petty arguments (“I’m basically living here, Parrish, and dollar store wheat thins definitely do not cut it.”); making space for himself. If the women of Fox Way ever decided to scry and take a peek at St. Agnes, there sitting would be Niall Lynch’s BMW, shark nosed and all–or at the very least the trace of Ronan throwing the car into gear while glancing in the rear view one last time. There would be images of Adam running his hands through his hair and Chainsaw tearing old essays to shreds (“I was proud of that paper, Lynch.”).

Ronan knew that Adam did not let people make themselves space in his life—to be part of Adam Parrish’s life was to pass a million different little tests you never knew were occurring. Ronan sometimes felt like he was in a play he knew neither the lines nor the choreography for–what had set off that particular moment of intense silence, an argument half formed, he couldn’t be sure. Sometimes it was Ronan’s abrasiveness about money (because what else), sometimes it was the absence of an extra shift, the sting of a lighter paycheck too much for the sleep-deprived Adam. But ever a creature of intense self preservation, Adam would never let someone in if he didn’t feel they deserved it. Was Gansey, or Blue for that matter, sleeping on the faded wood floors of the second floor St. Agnes apartment Adam insisted on paying rent for?

Instead of letting the train of thought run away from him, Ronan simply turned on his side to find Adam wide awake. The clock behind Ronan had blinked 12:08 AM last time he had looked, what felt like 4 hours ago.

“Go the fuck to sleep, Parrish.” (Rest, love, rest.) His chest ached, and his fingers twitched with a not yet gained muscle memory dedicated to tracing the slope of Adam’s nose.

Breaking eye contact, Adam let his eyes slide shut without argument for once. If Ronan could have it his way, he would make sure Adam never had to work another day in his life. He’d sign his entire life away, to sleep at night (ha!) knowing Adam Parrish had a roof over his head and a full belly. What was the point of wealth, then, if those you love are not fully rested and unable to sleep in on a Saturday morning?

Ronan Lynch was fire and fury, the earth remaking itself in his image. Screw the laws of thermodynamics, Ronan Lynch could make the soil birth the dead. And yet, he found himself feeling more mortal than ever looking at the barely resting face of Adam. How do you make a man of a Dreamer? Greywaren, Lynch, Ronan—what did it matter who called him what, if for a moment he could match his breathing to Adam’s.

There were times when Ronan felt as if he was made from one of Adam’s ribs, feeling each inhale and exhale. Extra shift at Boyd’s because Gansey was gone for the weekend—inhale. A on his paper—exhale. Get in an argument with Ronan—inhale. Stare at Ronan as he pretends to sleep—exhale. Let his fingertips skim the top of Ronan’s hand when he’s in those fleeting seconds between dream and wake—inhale. Eat the food Ronan bought—exhale. Fight with Ronan–inhale. Catch Ronan staring–exhale. He wondered if Adam held his breath in those moments like he did.

More often than not, Ronan would watch with rapt attention as Parrish seemed to be oblivious to those around him throwing themselves at his feet for even a moment of his attention. Gansey was King, but Adam was Magician. The dead woke when Gansey spoke, and Ronan would follow him to the ends of the earth and back. But Ronan would remake the Nile River into dust with his bare hands if Adam wanted dry land to walk on. Even in a school of all boys, uniforms and flashy cars, Adam’s peers lusted after his attention. And he thought himself simply a man made of dirt.

“Tad is a creepy fuck.” Ronan had once said mildly to Adam as they were lounging about outside during their lunch hour. Well, Ronan was lounging–Adam was doing homework. Ronan had caught Tad openly staring at Adam no less than ten times in the first half of the day.

“I don’t know why you even bother to pay attention to him.”

The worst part of Ronan was glad for Adam not seeing the side eyes, the head-to-toe pass overs when Adam finally began to stand a little straighter, shoulders a bit fuller, in his secondhand sweater. Let Carruthers stumble over his own feet in attempts to catch Adam’s attention, let the underclassmen stare in awe at Gansey and his Court. Let Adam’s broad shoulders and arms lithe with hard-earned muscle be Ronan’s secret; information pulled from half-lidded, used-to-be shameful gazes.

He knew what Adam looked like as a god—and he was no worshiper of false prophets. But how else do you describe Adam Parrish and his hay-yellow hair illuminated from behind by the LED-bright lights of the apartment bathroom? What other name do you give to the feeling of watching Adam Parrish stretch his arms over his head in the dead of night, or at dusk, but the desperate need to worship at the pedestal of the highest deity?

Let God be the arbiter of Ronan’s sins after death. “Had Moses seen how my friend’s face blushes when he is drunk, and his beautiful curls and wonderful hands, he would not have written in his Torah: do not lie with a man.” Ronan was a Catholic boy through and through, all inherited guilt and practiced tradition. He could bring life forth, could bring light to darkness, could bring death to the living—who was God to say that Ronan could not long for the soft touch of Adam’s hands, for the firm press of his lips to Ronan’s? What use did a man who could create something from nothing have for religious guilt?

Ronan knew everything was changing when Adam began pausing when he would move into his space, as if weighing the change in gravity. There were more glances from under lashes, soft hums of thought when Ronan let his eyes rest–greedily, selfishly wanting Parrish to drink his fill in open stares. Ronan Lynch was a creature of desire—never in the way that Adam Parrish was, all hunger and starving gasps. Ronan was more cool lemonade on a summer day where the breeze was nowhere to be found, practiced, knowing, and expected; Adam was the desire to flee, to move, to be more than what he was (what more is there to be than everything?).

Ronan considered it a selfish indulgement in this desire to let Adam stare, let Adam touch. It gave him precious material in moments alone, to imagine what Adam’s calloused hands dragging over his skin would feel like. Ronan thought his fingertips might burn another permanent mark into his skin—this time instead of black ink underneath, a trail of light and lust burnt into his chest, his back. If he chose to spend his time with his arms stretched above his head to feel the weight of Adam’s eyes on the strip of ivory-toned skin below the hem of his tank top and above the waistband of a loose pair of sweatpants–well then, that was his sin alone.

There was perhaps a touch of irony for a Dreamer to be obsessed with another’s hands. Hands made, they fashioned, worked, created. Dreamers made without the use of hands–yet Ronan came to Boyd’s with the Pig in tow just to watch Adam twirl a wrench absent mindedly as he inspected the garishly orange car’s insides.

Sometimes, it was all too much, and Ronan found himself in his own head. Was he imagining the lingering gazes and the thigh pressed against his own beneath the worn wood of the Nino’s tabletops? But there is little chance to explain away the firm press of Adam’s hand on Ronan’s kneecap when he slides in the booth, only for the palm of his hand to stay where it was. There is little alternative reasoning to Adam invading Ronan’s personal space (as if you could label a welcome advance an invasion) for no reason other than to just press himself into Ronan when he laughed or rolled his eyes.

Even Gansey noticed, ever oblivious, ever involved with his Jane. Was it the twisting of pinkies together in the backseat of the Pig? The King must devote time to the politics, comings and goings, of his Court—of course he would notice. Sometimes Gansey gave knowing looks to Ronan: when he would cajole Adam into eating his lunch (he didn’t really want it anyway); when he would give Adam rides (this was now a given); when he would just stare, and stare, and stare. Sometimes he imagined himself going blind staring at the sun.

The day that Ronan got to fulfill his desire was overall mundane. He felt nothing as he dressed himself at the Barns and ate a simple breakfast before heading out to do barn chores. He didn’t notice the sun shine brighter or the birds sing louder. Niall’s BMW still purred in the same gentle way when he started it, the clutch was still just a bit stiff as he moved it into fifth gear; Ronan still wondered why his dad dreamt a faulty car. Tad was still trying to flirt with Adam as he gave one-word replies.

But Adam did smile sharply as Ronan pulled into the parking space next to the Shitbox, brushing Tad off. He let Ronan buy him lunch without complaint; the usual back and forth was absent.

That day, Adam didn’t have work, didn’t have mountains of homework. So the Court and their King went exploring. Or, rather, they would have if Adam didn’t politely decline and look pointedly at Ronan as he spoke of needing to rest. He would have felt pressured into offering to stay back with Adam if Gansey didn’t offer first, if he wasn’t already twirling his keys around his fingers.

Ronan drove them to St. Agnes out of habit, grabbed Adam’s backpack out of habit, climbed the stairs and threw the door open out of habit. He watched as Adam made himself comfortable in his own space, and Ronan let himself pull off his jacket to roll up and place on the ground as he lay on the floor.

“I wasn’t kidding, you know, about needing to rest.” Adam said from the bathroom where he was washing his hands and splashing water on his freckled face.

“I’m already asleep Parrish, stop disturbing my peace.” Ronan could feel the hardwood digging into his shoulder blades where they were poking out as his hands were folded behind his head. At least Adam’s mattress, the one that Gansey somehow managed to talk him into taking, had some degree greater of back support. Curse the builders of St. Agnes for not considering that Ronan Lynch may one day rest upon the wooded floors (curse the builders of St. Agnes for not considering that worship was not just on his knees, but on his back in Adam’s bedroom–but what is worship without suffering).

Ronan only heard Adam move to lay down, almost afraid to open his eyes. What would happen if he broke the quiet spell hanging over the apartment, the tacit agreement to simply dance around the elephant in the room? It was simply easier for him to pretend that they could spend forever hurtling towards the inevitable. Ronan wouldn’t ever consider himself the first to openly opine his feelings, and he wouldn’t start now. There were moments he worried about startling Adam like a newborn deer–beating his father, an eye for an eye, was one thing; confessing a deep, bone chilling love was something else.

“Wake me up in an hour, I want to go for a drive.” Adam murmured, and Ronan opened his eyes.

The moment was still as blue met green. For a split second, Ronan thought Adam would kiss him. Or maybe he would kiss Adam. He thought they would both be able to give up the pretense of a tacit agreement to simply let whatever happened, happen. Yet, Adam simply closed his eyes without making a move.

It was Ronan who pushed across the invisible boundary they had set for themselves, let himself have instead of simply wanting. He gently touched Adam’s hand that was hanging over the edge of the bed, closest to Ronan. Adam’s eyes fluttered but didn’t open. He traced the veins running up Adam’s arm like a vine, and a funny thought flitted by–maybe Adam should get a tattoo of a vine wrapping around his delicate forearms. Perhaps it would serve him well to carry a visible, permanent reminder of what he had been, what he was.

Ronan wasn’t sure if whatever six-figure salary paying, starched suit career Adam would inevitably pick out would be comfortable with their star employee having tattoos on his forearms. He let himself wish for a moment that he could keep Adam for himself.

Ronan’s fingers moved beyond his arm, but Adam’s eyes stayed shut. He exhaled softly.

When Ronan lifted his fingers from Adam’s arm, perhaps to touch his face, Adam’s lips parted, “Why’d you stop?”

Adam’s accent made him stretch out the o in stop like warmed taffy, slow and gentle. Ronan thought about how he himself sometimes sounded Irish, about how perhaps that was baked into his genes–proud, Irish Catholic blood. He thought about how Adam would hate the idea that an accent could be passed down like that, and how he knew that Adam would try and lose the accent when he finally was able to flee.

He put his fingers back to Adam’s skin and let the hour waste away tracing invisible patterns over Adam’s hand and arm. And when the hour was up, Ronan decided it would be out of character for him not to wake Adam so he pulled his arm back and reached over to shake Adam.

“Wake up, Parrish. The beemer beckons.” Ronan shot up like he’d been electrocuted when Adam sleepily grabbed his wrist.

He turned his face into Ronan’s wrist and mumbled, “Five minutes, Lynch. ‘M cold.” His lips pressed ever so gently into the place where Ronan’s pulse hammered five-hundred-miles-a-minute under his skin. He’d never imagined planning a chapstick run, the ways he’d sneak the tube into Adam’s backpack, the thrill of the impending argument about spending money on Adam (“I’ve gone this long without it why do I need–” “Your lips felt like the Sahara, don’t shoot the messenger.”), of seeing his lips go from chapped to smooth.

Ronan steeled his resolve, “C’mon Parrish. You can cosplay Sleeping Beauty in the car, I’m jittery.”

And so the two stormed down the stairs from the second floor, Adam sleepily pulling a flannel over his shoulders (was that Ronan’s? He had lost his favorite two weeks ago.) and Ronan not bothering to put his jacket back on. The beemer was warm enough in the fall air. Above their heads, Chainsaw called out with a piercing shriek.

“There you are, shithead.” Adam said lovingly, as she landed on his shoulder and made herself comfortable by digging her claws into his skin.

“Hey, she’s a lady.” Ronan threw the car door open and threw himself into the drivers seat with an equal amount of abandon.

“I can’t even repeat some of the things I’ve heard you call her, Lynch. Aren’t you supposed to be the Catholic one?”

“Catholic guilts’ a limited resource, Parrish. You might not know that as a filthy heathen. Spent almost all mine calling Declan a dickhead and the rest on the gay thing.” Ronan grinned at him.

Adam’s laugh was a free and unrestrained thing, breaking out of his chest and startling Chainsaw as he buckled his seatbelt. Ronan wanted nothing more to make an entire collection of cassette tape Sing-alongs with just that noise. Thank Niall for the console that could play whatever medium Ronan could put his mind to.

“Alright Parrish, you made me disturb your beauty sleep for a drive. Where the hell are we going?” The beemer didn’t need gas anyways, Ronan could drive to LA (though why the hell would he do that?) and not stop once.

“Anywhere but here.” For a moment, Adam looked wistful, as if in the first few weeks of their senior year Ronan could simply drive him anywhere but Henrietta and they could just be there. Screw the grades and the recommendation letters and the letters of interest, they could just be two people in another place, another time. Ronan’s gut twisted with guilt thinking about what Gansey would do.

So Ronan drove. He left the St. Agnes parking lot and drove past Monmouth towards some interstate he couldn’t remember the name of. It was still the mid-afternoon, something about Senior Fridays meant it was only about 4 in the afternoon. Plenty of time to drive to the end of the earth and back.

They drove in relative silence, Chainsaw cawing occasionally begging for treats and eventually bullying Adam into rolling down his window as Ronan tore down the interstate at a speed that was past reckless. The wind carried Chainsaw high into the sky and Ronan thought he could feel the freedom of the wind under her wings in his chest. What was a Dreamer if he could not give life and liberty to his creations? What did it mean to keep dreamt things confined? If Ronan had dreamt Adam, he knew he could not keep him here. He let the moment steal his breath and he pressed his foot down harder.

Eventually Adam told Ronan to pull over for snacks, and didn’t complain when Ronan paid for the haphazard collection of items that could barely pass as a meal. They pulled into a fast food restaurant next. Ronan felt like they were preparing for a road trip and the thought of it stole his breath.

Keep moving, he thought to himself.

“Will you take me to the Barns?”

And so Ronan drove, cutting across Virginia, avoiding Henrietta on their way back. If Adam noticed, he didn’t mention it, he just kept tossing fries into his own mouth and laughing at Ronan when he asked him to toss one his way.

“I’m not losing a fry to the depths of this car, Ronan. You want some scrawny Aglionby asshole to have to go fishing for it?”

Ronan felt himself flush at Adam saying his name, but found it in himself to laugh sharply. The thought of someone like Tad or Gansey even, digging around in the depths of his father’s BMW only to find knobs and buttons not found in any other BMW in town, and a center console that would play any radio station you wanted, from any time period you could think of. More realistically it would be Adam, insistent that he could somehow smell last week’s fast food adventures, armed with Boyd’s industrial vacuum and a sharp reprimand about cleanliness.

“I’ll just get this guy at Boyd’s to do it, I heard he’s good with his hands.” Ronan’s grin mirrored the shark nose of his car tearing down the road.

The moment was broken for a brief spell–Ronan didn’t need to turn his head to see Adam’s momentarily startled expression until he grinned, smile matching Ronan’s.

“I’m telling Tad you’re interested in him on Monday.” Was Adam’s only response as he laughed harder than he had that whole afternoon; moment fixed. “See if he can fix the beemer.”

“The day Tad gets his hands on my car is the day I get my hands around his neck.”

It felt natural to look at Adam in his passenger seat. Beyond all of the moments Ronan had carefully cataloged in his memory of driving Adam to and from school and work, there were hundreds of moments in the future he had yet to experience. The knowledge of that kept him going.

Somewhere along the way to the Barns, Adam told him to pull over in a field flush with wildflowers. Ronan’s heart stilled. They climbed out of the car, hearing it settle as Ronan tossed Adam the keys over the hood of the car. It was darker now, closer to dusk, washing Adam in a gentle gold that made him look godly. This was an altar Ronan would gladly kneel at, parables about false prophets and golden calves be damned.

Adam observed Ronan as he grew restless, both of them leaning against the hood of the BMW. Its black paint had warmed in the afternoon sun, and Ronan gladly soaked up the heat as the sun began to hide itself behind the tree lines.

Ronan broke the silence first. Or at least he planned to. Instead, Adam turned to look at Ronan in the eyes from where he had walked out a few steps in front of the car and cocked his head as if making some sort of decision. Ronan never got to ask what the hell he was doing, the easy quip he had on the tip of his tongue dying at a moments notice.

The kiss seared through him, and Ronan thought for a split second he might burn up from the inside out. Sin, it turned out, was pleasure and desire and hope and love rolled all into one. Maybe this was why Niall laughed about how his father wanted him to join a convent, and Aurora would blush and scold him for talking about that in front of the children. Maybe this was why Ronan could no longer bring himself to feel that deep sickly shame when he stepped through the archways of St. Agnes–what was it about the way Adam’s hair felt under his fingers and the way their breaths mingled that could possibly be an offense to God? This was worship unto itself, blessing the flesh and heart of the First Man, Adam.

Looking back, something was different about that day. But Ronan hadn’t noticed it in the moment, hadn’t noticed all the small things that had shifted around him to make space for the knowledge that Adam would be finding a permanent place in his life. Not that Ronan wasn’t aware of all the ways he could fuck this up, all the ways Adam could fuck this up, but in the same breath in a different moment that Blue had told him he was the only fool around who believed in love at first sight, she had also told him that she knew him well enough to know that when he got Adam, he would never let him go. Ronan had called her a maggot and moved on, but her speaking it aloud had planted a seed of deep, deep, hope in his chest.

Ronan had let his religiosity wane because he never had a saint to pray to, never found one that matched his calling as a god and a man rolled into one mess of a body. Never could quite put into words the way that prayer made him feel. And yet, in that moment, Ronan could have said a thousand Hail Mary’s, prayed a million rosaries, and it would never hold a candle to the way Adam’s hands felt gripping his waist, nails scratching softly against the buzzed hairs at the base of Ronan’s neck, the way his lips parted to exhale into Ronan’s mouth.

This was what dreams and vows were made of: the quiet screech of the insects at their feet, the gentle hum of the ley line below them thrumming with each of their pulses, the knowledge that there was no need to think of tomorrow or three years in the future.

At some point, it occurred to Ronan that the cat and mouse game was over. He didn’t want the dynamic to change, wouldn’t let it, though. They could very well leave the late night calls and sighed names to Gansey and Blue. There was no need for that, they could stay Ronan and Adam.

“Is this for real?” Adam broke the kiss to press his forehead into Ronan’s collarbone. “Or is this just another dream?”

All Ronan could say was, “You dream about me?”

He felt as though a carpet had been pulled out from under his feet. Adam dreamt about him? How could this be anything but real? Maybe he hadn’t meant for Ronan to react, so he simply combed his fingers through Adam’s hair and pressed his lips to the crown of his head, relishing the heat of his skin and the smell of something distinctly Adam.

Adam pulled back with a sly grin, cheeks flushed with the fulfillment of a promise made the first time Ronan laid eyes on him, “What, only the Dreamer is allowed to have dreams? Seems a bit elitist don’t you think?”

“Oh don’t quote Blue at me, you asshole.” Ronan paused, wanting to give a real answer, unfiltered by sarcasm and a desperate need for self-preservation above all, “I’ve been wanting to kiss your stupid lips for a long time, Parrish.”

“Well if you think they’re so stupid, maybe I won’t kiss you again.” And Adam attempted to pull himself from Ronan’s grip.

Ronan locked his arms firmly where they were crossed over Adam’s waist and shoulder blades. Like hell he was going to let Adam go now.

“Damn you and your rich people muscles.”

They tumbled through the door of St. Agnes, shoes and coats falling to the ground as Ronan grabbed blindly for Adam’s wrists, waist, anything. In a moment, Adam’s mouth was on his. This kiss was different from earlier, no less searing, but the feeling in Ronan’s chest swelled with an undercurrent of something other than pure warmth. Perhaps lust was the best moniker, but at the same time, plain desire did not even come close to what Ronan felt in that moment. Adam gently let himself fall backwards onto his mattress and Ronan climbed after him.

“Stay the night.” Adam gasped as Ronan worked his way down Adam’s neck with his lips and teeth.

Adam tasted of sweat and something sweeter, tinted by his dollar store body wash and lotion. Ronan barely registered what he had said, singularly focused on making up for time lost to petty quarrels (he would later have at least enough self insight to recognize those moments as some sort of convoluted courting dance).

“Hm? I stay over all the time.” Ronan breathed, not wanting to extricate himself from his current passion project of licking and biting across each square inch of Adam’s exposed skin after pushing the cotton t-shirt over his head moments before.

Adam groaned in lieu of a proper response and his nails scratched across Ronan’s scalp. Then, he shivered. Ronan decided he liked that response best.

“In my bed. Stay, in my bed.” Adam gasped out, back arching as Ronan bit particularly hard at a spot just below his left collarbone.

Ronan had the decency to pretend to be scandalized, “Adam Parrish, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” Ronan hoisted himself up above Adam on his elbow so he could look at him in the fading light. “I’ll have you know I’m a good Catholic boy, Parrish, and I will not have my purity–!”

Adam had apparently decided that that evening was no time for Ronan to get his kicks from laughing about his Catholic upbringing. He had, instead, grabbed Ronan by the scruff of his neck and dragged him down so that their lips would meet. Ronan felt his heart settle in his chest.

#the raven cycle #the raven boys #ronan lynch #adam parrish #ronan lynch x adam parrish #the raven cycle fanfiction #trc text #pynch #pynch fanfic #pynch fic #trc

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androgynousbirdtale · 2 years

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'Unreal' auroras cover Earth in stunning photo taken by NASA astronaut

NASA astronaut Josh Cassada photographed a gorgeous green aurora from space, capturing the impacts of a solar storm that swept over our planet.

When seen from Earth, auroras are nothing short of dazzling. But it takes an astronaut's-eye view to truly appreciate how vast and spectacular these light shows really are.

"Absolutely unreal," NASA astronaut Josh Cassada tweeted(opens in new tab) Feb. 28 alongside a gorgeous photo of green auroras swirling around Earth's far northern latitudes. Cassada snapped the image from the International Space Station, which orbits about 250 miles (400 kilometers) over Earth on average.

While the ethereal green glow will look familiar to anyone who has seen an aurora in pictures or in person, Cassada's unique vantage point reveals just how incredibly far-reaching the phenomenon can be, stretching for hundreds to thousands of miles around the planet's poles.

Auroras, also known as the northern lights when seen in the Northern Hemisphere, occur when charged particles emitted by the sun slam into different molecules in Earth's atmosphere. The solar particles ionize those molecules, or remove electrons from them, causing the molecules to glow. Ionized oxygen molecules emit the fluorescent greenish light we see most commonly from auroras; nitrogen molecules emit red or pinkish light, while hydrogen and helium molecules release blue and purple light, according to the Canadian Space Agency.

The phenomenon is seen most often at high latitudes, as charged solar particles tend to zoom along Earth's magnetic field lines, which terminate at the North and South poles. However, when the sun belches an exceptionally big blob of plasma called a coronal mass ejection (CME) our way, it can result in bigger, more widespread auroras appearing at much lower latitudes than usual.

The sun has been particularly temperamental lately, with two CMEs slamming into our planet on Feb. 26 and Feb. 27, according to Live Science's sister site Space.com(opens in new tab). This sudden influx of charged particles likely fueled the vast aurora that Cassada saw from space.

CMEs become more common as the sun approaches the peak of its 11-year activity cycle, which is currently estimated to occur in 2025. Solar activity has ramped up significantly in the past several months, with powerful solar flares firing off of our star's surface every few days. They are harmless to humans, for the most part. But exceptionally strong CMEs can damage satellites, trigger radio blackouts and even cause power grid failures on Earth. Scientists constantly monitor the sun for signs of such ejections. Sometimes, they see the sun smiling back.

LiveScience

#2023 #your friendly neighborhood space nerd #earth #nasa #astronauts #space

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eternalstretchofmuses · 2 years

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Name: Aurora Fluffealis Text colour: Blue

Title: The Fox Drifting 440 Kilometres High Age: 458 years old Birthday: April 22nd Species: Firefox/kitsune Location: Wherever she deems cold enough for her liking (usually the sky) Height: 4'11" (150.9 cm) Weight: 133.6 lbs (49.4 kg) Gender: Female Appearance: Wavy, hip-length hair with turquoise to midnight blue gradient, as well as small white dots resembling stars. Hair is bioluminescent and changes colour in reaction to certain stimuli, ranging from its normal blue to purple, green, and even red. Hair also seems to ignore gravity to varying extents. Large fox ears on the top of her head that change colour like her hair. Bright purple eyes with white, star-shaped pupils. Has 4 large, fluffy fox tails (taking up more volume than the rest of her...) that follow the same scheme as her hair and ears. Tan skin, like Tan Cirno. Short. Clothing: Wears a black caplet covered in faint depictions of the constellations of the zodiac, with the addition of a much brighter depiction of the constellation Vulecula front and centre. Underneath the caplet, she wears a short black dress covered in streaks of blue, purple and white. Both the dress and capelet are lined with white fur. also has blue, purple and white ribbons tied around her tails as decoration. Personality: Her personality is a tad bit chaotic. She's easy to upset, especially if you insult her tails or her height. Mischievous and cunning, but never truly intentionally malicious. She may trick you or take something from you, but she won't hurt you unless you wrong her. Bringing up the topic of space is a good way to get her to talk your ear off. She's a tad bit egotistical, but only a little. Abilities: Manipulation of luminosity An ability more dangerous than it sounds. Using this, she can control the amount of light any given object gives off, from a small glow to a blinding light. If she wants someone to leave her alone, she uses it to turn herself into a living flashbang. Creating auroras Descending from the legendary firefoxes of Finland, she has the power to create auroras. Her auroras aren't confined to the sky, able to freely swirl and shimmer around her. By channelling enough magic into them, she can also make them solid, useful for mobility or attacking someone. The science behind this? This is Gensokyo! There's no common sense in Gensokyo! Transformation A standard ability coming from her kitsune side. Sometimes transforms into the form of a normal fox. Well... normal aside from the colour-changing fur. Likes: Has an affinity for space and the stars, showing a deep fascination for the vast emptiness out there. Is also fond of tried tofu, but is even fonder of ramen. Spicy food is her favourite. If she's not crying it probably isn't spicy enough. Prefers colder locations over warm ones. Collects objects she finds interesting. Dislikes: Shows an odd hatred towards cloudy skies due to the clouds sometimes blocking her view of the stars at night. STRONGLY dislikes having her tails or height insulted. Hates sticky things because they get stuck in her tails easily. Strengths: Great at thinking of ideas most people wouldn't. Due to her small size, some people may underestimate her and go a bit easier. Quite clever when it comes to certain subjects, especially ones related to the stars. Is having fluffy tails a strength? Yes :) Weaknesses: Low alcohol tolerance, and becomes a bit... stupid when drunk. Sometimes has a hard time taking criticism. Can be knocked around easily due to her size. Sometimes doesn't think about what she's saying before she says it. Often unable to sit still. Weak to things that get stuck in fluffy tails. Has a bit of a hoarding problem. Theme: The Sky Set Ablaze by a Spark from a Vulpine Tail ~ Väärä Tulikettu Aamunkoitto Spellcards: Blinding Light 「Quasar Flash」 Tail Spark 「Raging, Burning Sky」 Reborn Star 「Alpha Phoenicis」 Auroral Corona 「Crown of a Fluffy Queen」「Wild Galactic Chase of Vulpecula and Anser」 Self-contained Secret Star 「Thorne–Żytkow Object」 (Last Word) Tag: Sky-igniting Fox of False Dawn ~ Aurora

Professional Artist Rendition:

#bio #muse bio #sky igniting fox of false dawn ~ aurora

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theoccoven · 6 months

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❝Come on baby, smile.~ You’re in the presence of greatness.~❞

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝘽𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙘 𝙄𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 ࿐ྂ

⇢ Name[s]: Zhao Xiao Dan [Birth Name], Greyson Cox [Western Name] ⇢ Other Name[s]: None ⇢ Nickname[s]: Old Man [Skyler & Jooheon], Jiahao’s Kid [his dad’s friends], Dragon [Strangers], Gem [his mom], Little Soul [his dad], Apple of my Eye [Jooheon] ⇢ Like[s]: Fire, Oranges, Tangerines, Vape Pens, Sneakers, Cigarettes, Lighters, Weed, Music, Producing, Writing, Books, Songwriting, Piercings, Tattoos, Brandy ⇢ Dislike[s]: People who mess with his loved ones, Doesn’t dislike many things but can get angry easily

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙨 ࿐ྂ

⇢ Species: Half Dragon Half Warlock ⇢ Gender: Male [He/Him] ⇢ Sexuality: Gay, Polyamorous ⇢ Age: 31 [Current] [06.30.1993] [Cancer] ⇢ Height: 6’3” [190.5 cm] ⇢ Abilities: Fire Breathing, Fire Manipulation, Can touch fire, Fire Consumption, Night Vision, Form Shifting ⇢ Special Item[s]: Coal [Can amplify his core fire], Vape Pen [He can’t be seen without one], Headphones [His must have], Flask [Energy boost of the day], Golden Chain Bracelet [Anniversary Gift from Sky], Polaroid of him & Joo when they started dating ⇢ Birthplace: The Village of Ashos [Astaria Equivalent to Brisbane, Australia] ⇢ Residence: Amsterdam, Netherlands [Human Realm] [Current], Shanghai, China [Human Realm] [Visits Often], The Village of Votraria, The Mainland [Magic Realm] [When visiting Joo] ⇢ Status: Alive

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙨 ࿐ྂ

⇢ Occupation[s]: Male Stripper [Main Job] [Current], Piercer & Tattoo Apprentice [Side Job] [Current], Music Producer [Hobby, Future Career] ⇢ Affiliation[s]: Club Aurora [Magic Realm], Le Camée [Human Realm], Sparkle Ink Tattoo Shop [Human Realm] ⇢ Former Occupation[s]: Bookstore Worker [London, England] [Human Realm]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝙍𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥𝙨 ࿐ྂ

⇢ Family: Mom-Wang Yue [Mum], Zahao Jiahao [Father], Li [Oldest Sister, Oldest Sibling], Xiāng [2nd Oldest Sister, 2nd Oldest Sibling], Bolin [Oldest Brother, 3rd Oldest Sibling], Qiang [2nd Oldest Brother, 4th Oldest Sibling], Mèng yáo [3rd Oldest Sister, 4th Oldest Sibling], Hao [3rd Oldest Brother, 6th Oldest Sibling, Middle Child, Kai-Ming’s Twin], Kai-Ming [3rd Youngest Sister, 6th Youngest Sibling, Middle Child, Hao’s Twin], Xiaobo [3rd Youngest Brother, 5th Youngest Sibling], Yinuò [2nd Youngest Sister, 4th Youngest Sibling], Hai [Youngest Sister, 3rd Youngest Sibling], Jun De [2nd Youngest Brother, 2nd Youngest Sibling] [Grey is the youngest of 6 brothers & 11 siblings] ⇢ Friend[s]: Jooheon [Longest Friend], Co Worker Friend [Name Coming Soon] ⇢ Romantic Interest[s]: Skyler [Little Angel, Current Boyfriend], Jooheon [Beautiful Puppy, EX Boyfriend] ⇢ Enemies: Dragon Hunters, Humans ⇢ Others: N/A

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝙈𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙤𝙪𝙨 ࿐ྂ

⇢ Representative Symbol[s]: Chinese Dragon, Dragon Emoji [🐉], The Colors Green & Orange ⇢ Faceclaim[s]: Christian Yu [@/dprian on instagram] ⇢ Voiceclaim[s]: Christian Yu [@/dprian on instagram] ⇢ Other Claim[s]: N/A

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝙊𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ࿐ྂ

⇢ Greyson is a dragon warlock hybrid who works as a male stripper. He originally was meant to become a music producer and start a music career but suddenly dropped out of college and started working in a club in Amsterdam where he currently lives with his boyfriend, Skyler. He tends to travel around a lot mainly to Shanghai to meet with his mum and Votraria to visit Jooheon whenever he needs him.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝘽𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 ࿐ྂ

⇢ Coming Soon...

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝘼𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 ࿐ྂ

⇢ Greyson has a muscular build, standing at 6 feet and 3 inches along with weighing around 190 pounds. In younger ages he can be seen with longer jet black chest length hair but in his current age his hair is above his shoulders. His natural eye color is a bright red mixed with specs of green. They can change color depending on how he feels. When he’s happy they can turn a bright green, a dark green with swirling of green when angry and a very light pastel green when sad. He has prominent dimples when smiling and has a pair of small canines that can get longer if he wants.

⇢ His skin tone is tan/light brown. He has a lot of tattoos, all over his body. Many of these were given to him by Jooheon and the most prominent ones are Jooheon’s Chinese name on his left clavicle, a music clef behind his left ear and ‘Suck Me’ on his lower stomach. He has both his ears pierced. He also has a hand piercing on his right hand, belly piercing, nipple piercings, a left eyebrow piercing, an ampallang [dick piercing] piercing and back piercings. He also has yellow and green scales littered around his body but most prominently on his wrists, chest and hips. He also has black and green claws on his hands and feet but he mainly just allows the claws on his hands out.

⇢ He dresses in a more classical fashion/casual chic style. Lots of button ups, clothed pants, fancier shoes/sneakers. He doesn’t really like jeans but will wear them if going for something more casual all with form fitting shirts. Greyson loves to show off his chest so not all his buttons will be done. Depending on what he’s wearing you’ll also most possibly will be able to see the waistband of his boxers. He doesn’t tend to wear makeup unless he’s working at the club. He also likes jewelry specifically long necklaces and rings.

⇢ He has a deep voice, not super deep but deep enough. He has a thicker Australian accent when speaking in English. He is a native speaker in Mandarin and Cantonese, sometimes if he’s spoken Mandarin/Cantonese for a long period of time he has a bit of an accent.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮 ࿐ྂ

⇢ Personality wise Greyson can be really laid back and chill. He comes off as a big tease and jokes about a lot of things. He’s also extremely flirty and will never miss the chance to make a sexual joke or give a load of compliments. Even though he is normally very laid back he can be easily angered or sadden especially if he’s off his meds. His BPD makes it hard for him to regulate his emotions sometimes and tends to go into explosive episodes of anger, sadness, etc. It does tend to make having close connections hard, he tends to have a feeling of numbness and is why he has had so many flings in the past. Also because of his BPD he’s only ever officially fell in love with one person and still can’t really let him go. Aside from this he can be really funny and fun along with being very overly dramatic about things which always makes his friends laugh.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝘼𝙗𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙨 ࿐ྂ

⇢ Fire Magic - he is half warlock and can control and manipulate magic

⇢ Form Shifting - as a hybrid he can change into a full dragon form

⇢ Fire Breathing - can breath fire in both dragon and hybrid form [bigger fire in dragon form]

⇢ Fire Consumption - can eat fire that is not his which can help create a bigger intense fire

⇢ Night Vision - can see very well in the dark

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝙎𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙨𝙚𝙩 ࿐ྂ

⇢ Greyson is able to only create fire from what he breaths. He only breaths fire because he is a dragon and cannot actually create fire through magic. He can touch fire and control it, he can also take the fire he breaths out and control it to do what he wants with his magic. He can also consume fire to add to the power of the fire he breathes.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝙂𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙮 ࿐ྂ

⇢ Coming Soon...

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝙏𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙖 ࿐ྂ

⇢ He has BPD & takes medication.

⇢ His favorite words are bitch and fuck.

⇢ He has 3 familiars currently, a Leopard Gecko named Sandy, a Komodo Dragon named Bradly and a Chinese Water Dragon named Evergreen.

⇢ When he’s extremely angry grey smoke pours out of his nose and mouth.

⇢ Growing up in a place where his culture is not prominent which made him embarrassed of his culture.

⇢ Only close friends and family can call him by his birth name.

⇢ Is a descendant of dragon warriors. His dad was a warrior when wars were prominent within the magic realm. He retired before war was officially ended.

⇢ Since he never got to meet his dad he isn’t sure what dragon breed his is but it is thought that he is one of the “original dragons”.

⇢ He dropped out of college and right away went to working at the bookstore he met Jooheon at. Later on works in Le Camée and then Club Aurora. Ends up also working in Joo’s tattoo shop as a piercer and tattoo apprentice as a side job.

⇢ Was going to college to become a music producer.

⇢ Still writes and plays music.

⇢ Because he is a dragon and warlock crossbreed he has a high level of magic.

⇢ He is a strong follower of Zhurong, the god of fire and the south in Chinese mythology and folk religion.

⇢ #🍓greyson core [For Random Fun Facts That Might Not Be Here]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝙉𝙎𝙁𝙒 𝙏𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙖 ࿐ྂ

⇢ Click Here!

⇢ #❤️‍🔥greyson nsfw [Random NSFW Fun Facts, Aesthetics, Etc.]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝙌𝙪𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨 ࿐ྂ

⇢ ❝Suck my fucking cock bitch-! ❞ [basically his catch phrase]

⇢ ❝I’m a sexy bitch, deal with it.❞

⇢ ❝You ruined our world, now you suffer for it.❞

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙨࿐ྂ

⇢ #📓greyson work [Stories, Works, Etc.] | #📌greyson sticky note [Random Blurbs, Normally Written on a Sticky Note Before Putting It On Here], #📷greyson picrew [Random Picrews I Made] | #🎵greyson music [Just Music]

⇢ There will be more added as time passes!! Some things might also change!!

#🖤greyson profile #🖤live a little #writeblr community #original writing #oc #ocs #oc profile #original character #original character profile #my oc #my ocs #🖤live a little: supernaturals

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theghostweddeduniverse · 1 year

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Weather Phenomena

In the realm of the Unseen Oceans, a multitude of weather patterns unfold, creating a dynamic and ever-changing atmosphere. These weather patterns are shaped by the unique geography, magical forces, and elemental energies present within this mystical realm. Here are some of the notable weather phenomena experienced in the Unseen Oceans:

Whirling Tempests: Whirling tempests are powerful cyclonic storms that roam the skies and seas of the Unseen Oceans. These storms, characterized by swirling winds and intense rain, can form rapidly and create tumultuous conditions. They often give rise to dramatic displays of lightning and thunder, heralding their arrival. Whirling tempests can be both awe-inspiring and perilous, requiring caution and skilled navigation to traverse.

Misty Veils: Misty veils are ethereal mists that blanket certain regions of the Unseen Oceans. They arise from the convergence of warm and cool currents, creating a mystical ambiance. These veils create an otherworldly beauty as they swirl and dance, occasionally obscuring the visibility of the landscape. The misty veils lend an air of mystery and enchantment to the realms they grace.

Radiant Auroras: Radiant auroras grace the night skies of the Unseen Oceans, casting shimmering curtains of vibrant colors. These ethereal displays are caused by the interaction of solar energy with the unique magnetic fields and elemental energies of the realm. The auroras create a breathtaking spectacle, illuminating the darkness with hues of greens, blues, purples, and pinks, captivating all who gaze upon them.

Serene Calms: Serene calms are periods of tranquil and peaceful weather in the Unseen Oceans. During these times, the winds settle, and the seas become still, creating a sense of serene harmony. The sky clears, allowing for uninterrupted views of the celestial bodies above. Serene calms provide respite and allow for introspection and reflection amidst the ever-changing nature of the realm.

Elemental Outbursts: Elemental outbursts occur when the raw elemental forces of the Unseen Oceans surge in intensity. These phenomena can manifest as spontaneous bursts of flames, gusts of wind, electrical discharges, or sudden shifts in temperature. Elemental outbursts are a reminder of the untamed powers that exist within the realm and can pose challenges or opportunities for those who encounter them.

#ghostweddedmerch #unseenoceans

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lunarofsymphony · 1 year

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THE ART OF SCATTERED STARS

Starlight heavens gleam within blue velvet reveries, nostalgia twilight holds the moon. Autumnal dusk of evening gold, ember-red leaves, wisp zoetically by cold tendrils of dusk and air whistling hymns of angel’s tune. The colors of fall approached with its warm embrace and tenderness. Luminescence of milky-white moonbeams glittering upon celestial dreams, I take a moment to pause, and endure the last moments of Celestial city.

In aurora, as crystal clear the atmosphere had been vacant with crowds attending on flights and departing. Soaring over the celestial nightfall, autumn vortexes, snowy clouds flowing by. I prefer the eventide. The falling of leaves. Scents of apple cinnamon, pumpkin spice and its delicate aroma had hit home. Autumn painted the cityscape; juniper green, earthy-warm, rich & golden.

Beyond the light, we’ll never witness the constellations. Dusk, in sombreness; we’re fated to see the stars.

As a dreamer I’ve always been full of hope. A dreamer staring far beyond, waiting for a glimpse and speckles of glitter to wander me into the surreal illusions of the night. The wonders of believing fluttered in my heart from the very beginning. My dreams would come true, and I’d willingly open myself to fate. I somehow found myself standing there, consuming the stars, swirling in the spotlight of flashing cameras, dreaming a little dream as life floats like a feather by the moon.

For various nights I’ve dreamed that we’ve made it out of here. Somehow our dreams become reality indulging the true meaning of art that was life expanding into something far more greater than we imagined. The nostalgic thoughts of different places I’ve never set foot in, people I’ve never met and the scent ever as unfamiliar, but I remembered as if it were yesterday. My heart bursts into flames showered with glitter, I remember visiting places I’d never set foot in even for the people that I met, but sadly, unnoticeable their memorised faces later in life revealed moments held dearly close within.

When I received news that he died. I had called our dear friend, Emilie. She’d been sobbing for an hour in shock, bated breaths and a weary tone. No words fell from her lips, only the sombreness of sorrow. And I immediately dropped my phone on the marble floor of the airport after flying a few hours in, hanging up abruptly. As I slept through the flight journey to Paris, I’d made it past security and couldn’t turn back. Now sitting in a large empty space, waiting for the next dream to take off.

It was too late. I remembered calling our apartment again to say one last good night, but he refused to answer my 3rd call and had gone under the influence, entirely ignoring the world around him. There was nothing but the sound of a beep and a voicemail. Until I decided to give up on trying, spilling my heart to him wouldn’t change a thing but the glimpse of hope within my grasp, glittered gold. His name displayed on the screen, my finger swiping the receiver, I’d listened to the silence through the other end without knowing this had a distant meaning. I would never hear from him, or see his face again.

Tears fall endlessly, drowning in sorrow and silence. I couldn’t bear the ache of my beating heart shattering to a million pieces, full of despair and denial. There was no sign of luminous light, no moon outshined the night sky crisp of autumn but the equinox constellations.

For the moment we are soaring through other worlds. Our souls identifying the same and far more than distance as the stardust collides before us, revived us in reverie for another eternity. He’s always been half of who I am, my sorrow, heart and soul.

The elixir meaning of life has no significance, as being alive ceased when the scattered stardust of myself died and departed with him. It's deep within my heart, aching and torn, and I ponder how much I've thought of Ash before tear drops cloud my vision. Memories slowly fade, only with the reminiscence of his name.

Somewhere far beyond I’d contemplate the cosmic expanse of the primordial night sky, upon which every star, a testament to the lovers who created them, shines with a luminous radiance. When I am lost in the labyrinthine depths of reminiscence, I count the stars of our constellation, each one a flickering reminder of the times we whispered to each other.

'Baby, we finally made it.’

And somehow even in this life, soaring under the vicissitudes of fate, we didn’t.

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mialuluworld · 1 year

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In today's fast-paced world, creating a serene and magical ambiance within the comfort of our own homes has become a priority. With advancements in LED technology, we now have the ability to bring the mesmerizing beauty of the starry sky and the captivating aurora borealis into our bedrooms or any other room. The introduction of projection lamps has revolutionized the way we experience lighting, providing a unique and immersive visual experience. In this article, we will explore the features and benefits of projection lamps that incorporate LED technology, allowing you to indulge in the enchanting allure of the stars and the dynamic colors of the aurora.

LED Technology:

Projection lamps utilize advanced LED technology to create stunning visual effects. LED lights offer numerous advantages, including energy efficiency, long lifespan, and vibrant color rendering. These lamps employ a combination of RGB (Red, Green, Blue) LEDs to produce a wide range of colors, ensuring a realistic representation of the starry sky and the aurora phenomenon.

Twinkling Stars:

With a projection lamp, the stars come alive in your bedroom. The device projects a vast number of tiny dots that mimic the twinkling effect of stars in the night sky. The subtle variation in brightness and the random blinking of these stars create a sense of depth and realism, transporting you to a celestial realm.

360° Rotating Dynamic Aurora Lighting:

One of the most captivating features of projection lamps is the ability to replicate the captivating dance of the aurora borealis. The projection lamp projects vibrant and ever-changing aurora lights that swirl and move across the walls and ceiling. With a 360° rotating feature, the dynamic aurora lighting creates a mesmerizing spectacle, immersing you in a breathtaking display of colors and patterns.

Light Changing with Music:

To enhance the visual experience, many projection lamps are equipped with a light-changing feature synchronized with music. Through Bluetooth connectivity or a built-in music player, you can play your favorite tunes and watch as the lights respond to the rhythm and beat of the music. The synchronized light show adds an extra layer of immersion and creates a truly captivating atmosphere.

By incorporating LED technology, projection lamps have transformed the way we perceive and experience lighting in our living spaces. With their ability to bring the starry sky and the mesmerizing aurora borealis into our bedrooms or rooms, these lamps provide an enchanting and immersive visual journey. From the twinkling stars to the swirling aurora lights, projection lamps create a serene and magical ambiance that soothes the mind and transports us to a world of wonder. With features like light-changing with music, timing settings, and Bluetooth connectivity, these lamps offer convenience and customization. So, why not indulge in the captivating allure of the stars and the aurora by bringing a projection lamp into your space? Immerse yourself in the breathtaking beauty of the cosmos from the comfort of your own home.

#Twinkling Stars

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intoduskoutofdawn · 3 years

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Aurora Borealis (part 2)

| Here comes the second part to the first one 'Jessy needs a favor'. Still of course a Phil x MC piece.

Jessy, Hannah, Phil x MC

Warnings: swearing, smoking, bit of spice

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This day is sure a long one! You sigh as you put on your shoes, getting ready to leave. Tired you let your forehead rest on your knees for a moment. Well, you promised Jessy that you would be helping out at the Aurora tonight. Actually you are looking forward to it, it gets you out of your routines, which had become quite the drag over the last months since your move to Duskwood.

As you put on your jacket and stuff your keys in the pockets, you think back to your conversation with Phil this afternoon and how it made you actually think differently about him as a person. He was not just Jessy's brother with the bar and the good looks and the winks and the flirtatious comments anymore - you discovered that he is really passionate about pursuing his dreams, always making everything about his life special and worthy. It turned out to be something you really admired about him. All tangled up in these thoughts, you keep walking down the street, your arms wrapped around yourself with your eyes pinned on the road as you hear someone yelling from the other side.

“Hey!MC! Wait!” Jessy is waving at you, Hannah standing next to her also raises both of her hands. They run over the street and you get kissed on your cheeks, left from Jessy, right from Hannah. You flinch and laugh at your two friends.

Jessy points at you and says to Hannah in an ironically praising tone: “She is on her way to the bar, she took over the shift from me and saved me from being a huge disappointment to my brother.”

Hannah smiles and nodds her head in playfully exaggerated appreciation. “She is a real life saver!”

You roll your eyes and snark:”Yes, she is a regular superhero...”

Jessy giggls and grabs your arm. “Let's walk together, I actually just ran into Hannah a few minutes ago over there and then we saw you walking past us.” She pushes you in the middle between her and Hannah and the three of you start walking.

“So what were you brooding about again, MC? You didn't even spot us.” Hannah looks at you curiously.

“Oh, I just... Well to be honest, I was thinking about my encounter with Phil this afternoon. He gave me ride home and we were talking. It was really amazing, I think I learned a lot about him - how difficult it was for him to come here to Duskwood in the beginning. It's like I finally understand that his confidence doesn't just come out of nothing, you know, then it would be not more than arrogance, it's something he gained on the way where he is now. That is why it is so ...natural.” You suddenly stop a little embarrassed, you didn't even mean to spill out all of your thoughts like that.

Hannah raises her brows in surprise. “Wow, that was pretty...'elaborated'.” You look shyly over to Jessy, who seems to be thinking about what you just said about her brother.

“I think I get what you mean, MC.” She finally says slowly in a serious tone. “I always admired my brother for his strength, but I am also still intimidated by him from time to time...ok, most of the time. Our relationship wasn't easy because of all what happened with our parents. Phil seemed always to be able to grow despite or even because of all this.” You nod and then cover your eyes with one hand. “I really like that...or him. Am I crazy?”

Hannah gives you a wide grin. “Sure you are, that's why we love you! But why the hell would you feel bad, cause you found out something new about Phil and yourself?” She paused as you sigh and seem concerned about something. “Actually I think your onto one of the last Duskwood mysteries here...” She let's her hand stride through the air like her words are written on a billboard: “The man behind the mystery that is Phil Hawkins!”

The three of you burst into laughing - Hannah always knew when and how to lighten the mood. She turns her head to you again and bumps her elbow into your side. “So he finally managed to soften you up, huh?”

You shrug and roll your eyes. “I don't know. You think that was his end game?” Hannah shakes her head. “No, it doesn't sound like he had a plan there.”

“Definitely not!” Jessy ads “He would never just open up to you like that. You know, he is not that superficial, I think he is very capable to see that you are actually someone who he can expect to understand him, someone he confides in. Otherwise he wouldn't even bother, if you were just some girl he tries to impress out of her panties.” She swings her hand through the air like she was trying to chase away a fly. "Sorry, that I have to be the one to tell you, but you're quite special, MC."

“Well, you don't need to overthink it, MC, just see what happens from here on. You think it is complicated? Hell, you have been living here for a while now, Duskwood embraces the complicated!” Hannah says with a firm look. “What do you think is gonna happen to you? Why not take a leap once in a while?”

You smile at her a little helpless and sigh:”Maybe you are right, guess I just wouldn't want to end up as some girl...” you point a finger at Jessy “how did you put it? 'some girl, who got impressed out of her pants'?” “'Panties'...she said 'panties'” Hannah winks at you.

“Oh, MC, as if I would let my brother treat you like that! Well okay, I admit that I am totally incapable of standing up to Phil. But I would gladly slash his tires and leave an insulting and anonymous note. Just for you!” She chuckles. Well, when you got friends like that...

Finally you reached the front door of the Aurora. Hannah turns around and gives you a hug. “Mh, we're gonna have such delightful double dates, you, Phil, Thomas and me. Some wild Scrabble nights maybe.” You pinch the giggling she-devil in the hip. Now it's Jessy's turn, she takes your face in her hands and teases: “Finally we are family!”

While the three of you are squabbling around, the door of the Aurora suddenly gets pushed open and Phil is leaning in the door frame - slightly confused he raises his eyebrows about the peculiar scene. You softly push Jessy away and greet him still giggling: “Hey, Hawkins. Sorry, I would have been on time, if I didn't have to kill these two!”

Phil points his cigarette at his sister and looks over to Hannah. “So you two are chatting up my best employee of the night here?” Hannah rolls her eyes. “First of all, that's not a good pet name for MC. And more importantly, we had to discuss the future -” “Oh hush now!” You shut her up with a furious scowl.

Phil gives you a slightly amused look that asked for an explanation, but you just shrug and shake your head. And when you actually want the earth to swallow you whole – nothing happens!

Jessy walks over to Hannah and drags her slowly away. “Come Hannah, we have to go now. See you, big brother...” She turns around again with a vicious grin “Have fun, future sister in law...”

You stare mortified at the two girls walking away, sending out a silent prayer that Phil didn't hear what his sister said. “What did she just s-...” You quickly turn around, put your hands on his chest and push him backwards inside the bar. “Oh nothing, whatever, let's get to work already!”

You take a look around the room, your eyes adjusting to the dim light inside. The Aurora seems so much bigger than you remember, empty as it is at this time. Such a beautiful place! The dark shiny wood of the long counter perfectly guides the look to the center of the bar. Some old fashioned industrial lamps drenched everything in a warm light around the counter. You loved all the materials, that surrounded you here... wood, wrought metal, the leather of the furniture. The rest of the room was still dark, Phil didn't turn all of the lighting on yet.

Oh fuck! You hastily pull your hands back, you didn't even realize, that you still had them on his chest - blushing you look at him with big eyes. Phil is smiling widely but then he shakes his head. “You know, Miss MC, it's really hard to take how cute you are! You just can't help it, can you?” he says annoyed but not serious. He turns away and walks over to the counter, “Wait there! I want to show you something first.” What is he so excited about now? Anyway, get it together, MC, nothing but keeping your cool for the rest of the night!

Phil comes back holding something small...a remote? He turns and moves behind you putting his hands on your shoulders and maneuvers you to the other side of the bar, where you find yourself facing a black wall behind a seating area. “That's some black wall. I can't wait to tell my friends about this...” you snicker and Phil – still holding your shoulders- shakes you a bit to shut you up. “Wait for it...” he says in a dramatic voice. You keep your eyes focused on the wall. A small twinkling light appears in midst of the black. No it wasn't just one, there were dozens of them and you raise your brows in surprise - looking at star constellations spread all over the wall, like on the clear night sky.

“Beautiful!” is all you get out, admiring what you see. Phil has let gone of your shoulders, still standing very close behind you. “That's not all” he hisses into your ear. His excitement is contagious and you let your seeking eyes wander over the wall. And then there was a slender band of green light spreading itself wider and wider, you spot purple reflections in the green and even more colors swirled together, the light started to move, spreading and shrinking, sparkling and fading, sinking and rising. The Northern Lights!

“Aurora Borealis...” Phil whispers. “It's...” you start but you are not able to find the words just yet. You just stare at the dance of the lights. It feels like a huge curtain has been lifted in front of you and freed your gaze, the walls around you dissolved and you are striding through the endless universe. You lightly cover your mouth with your hands and whisper through your fingers not even aware that you saying the words out loud “It's like infinity and eternity are twisted together and became light...It's beautiful, one of a kind.” You can feel Phil laughing quietly in the back of your neck. “That is exactly how I would describe it... and you.”

Those words were pouring warm down your neck and you feel a shiver sliding along your spine. You are so very aware how close he is to you, feeling the warmth of his body standing behind you. If you just move half an inch, your bodies would touch...and then? You can feel rising heat and tension in your stomach going - south - from there. He didn't move, you just can feel his breath, shaking and hot right behind your ear. You close your eyes - as suddenly reality raises it's ugly head. This wasn't at all a good time for this! There were voices outside the window, it was almost time to open up the bar. This cannot happen now! You turn around and meet Phil's eyes for a short moment, a furious hunger flickering in them. Not even knowing what you are doing, you shift forward a little - leaning against him, hiding your face in his neck. “Phil, this...I...” you stop as you can feel his hands wandering over your back pressing you closer against him. You gather all your strength and push yourself away from his body and look him firmly in the eyes again. Wow, if looks could actually tear your clothes off....

“Okay, I am honestly sorry to kill the moment here, but I think you know, that this is not the right time for...this. There are people waiting to get in and because I took over the shift from your sister, I can assume you really need the help here tonight.” He closed his eyes and the smile on his face was bitter, he just nods acquiescently and slowly retrieves his hands, releasing you out of his grip. You feel dizzy and confused.

“Huh, I could really use some help here.” You angrily point a finger at him. “It's not helping that you just stand there, looking like this, smelling incredible...You need to say something, I want my grip back!” Phil suddenly laughs, raising his hands in defeat. “Well, Miss MC, what can I say? If you want, I can think of some other ways to let you see the stars...” He bites his lower lip, flinching his eyes shut. “Wow, that must have been the lamest thing, I have ever said..”

You nod your head laughing. “That was the lamest thing, anyone has ever said. But it actually helped. Thank you!” He sighs and shrugs, throwing off the tension and walks over to the counter.

“Okay, let's get started. Did I ever show you, where I keep the ice?”

You follow him and say with a deep sigh: “Yes...ice, good idea!”

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood phil #iamjake #duskwood hannah #everbyte duskwood #duskwood mc #duskwood game #duskwood jessy #phil x mc #phil hawkins

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rosewind2007 · 2 years

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Chapter 3: Aurora

The planetary night lasted six hours at this latitude, which was convenient as it meant Dr Gurathin would hopefully be able to sleep through most of it. What Ship and I had designed and created was almost like a little cocoon. We had used the insulating blankets, and padding, and Ship’s own anatomy to create a little sleeping pod. I was to be, I found it helpful to remember, more of a structural component than an occupant. And, of course, the heating element. When he first looked at it I thought Dr Gurathin was going to laugh, but he nodded abruptly and checked some of the struts (not just random ones the way some humans do, he clearly knows something about engineering (so do I, the struts were all fine)). Then he went and pulled on the clothing I had assigned to him. Again, we were fortunate to have such a well provisioned vessel. Ship radiated happiness, for a second I thought it was a pity it couldn’t radiate heat quite so effectively; but that was mean of me. Ship was doing its job, and now it was my turn to do mine.

I climbed in first, and took up my position. I’d arranged it so that from my location I had an unobstructed view out through the clear panel we were using as a sort of door. I don’t sleep, and was interested to watch what the night sky did here, though I wasn’t really expecting much (Ship and I found the files we had pooled together were pretty deficient regarding this topic). Whatever, I always had my media. I was sorting through my files, arranging them systematically when Dr Gurathin’s voice jolted me back to the real world, “Do I just climb in and curl up?”

I think he was trying to ask permission, but being awkward. So I probably did sound testy when I said “Yes, Dr Gurathin.” But honestly? What else was he expecting me to say? “No, I’ve decided to let you die of exposure and then sit here with your corpse for a week waiting for rescue, going mad with guilt as dear sweet Ship glares at me; seeing me as the murderer I am.” I shouldn’t do counterfactuals, they make my organics feel all scrambled. He didn’t snap back at me, didn’t even sigh. Then he said, “Goodnight. We do need to talk tomorrow.” Then he climbed in.

The weighted system swung us gently round, swiveling us into the locked position. Designing the set up I’d actually worked towards making conversation difficult, physically. And we (so far) seemed to have reached an unarticulated agreement not to speak over the feed. I’d thought this was a good idea, to prevent (if I’m honest) Dr. Gurathin trying to talk to me at night when I was concentrating on being part of the structure. Only now he’d made this comment about needing to talk the next day. About what?

We hung there, silently and night came, suddenly.

It was cold, bitterly so. Ship’s bones crackled and groaned in protest. The little cocoon held fast, and I upped my body temperature curled around Gurathin. He quietly tensed, then relaxed; and then I felt his outline soften and become weirdly heavy as he fell asleep. Ship was doing the machine intelligence equivalent of pacing, I let it know it was all fine. He was safely sleeping, and soon dreaming. I’d never been this close to a dreaming augmented human before. Not ever, I’d have remembered even with all the wipes. He must have left down all his walls, I suppose out of courtesy to me? A sign of trust? But I could sense his dreams. Not like watching media, but like ghosts swirling around me; ghosts of feelings. It was strange. And then the aurora began.

Many planets have auroras, there’s no mystery to their formation. But for some reason every time I see one I’m staggered, taken by surprise. The lights flickered and undulated, chasing each other in rippling curtains of greens, blues and oranges across the sky. Dr. Gurathin was oblivious, but somehow his dreams danced with the aurora.

Ship and I watched, together in silence. Our vulnerable crew utterly safe; warm, secure, protected in this tiny warm bubble on a cold planet under its flickering, dancing, chameleon sky.

Dr. Gurathin’s presence wasn’t the awkwardness I’d imagined, we weren’t physically touching at all: I suppose it was as close as I could get to understanding how ART feels to carry its crew. (Which is very different to me carrying a human client during a retrieval, which is usually very physically arduous and uncomfortable for both me and the human: they really don’t like it). It would have been perfect, except for those ominous words: “We do need to talk”. Ship and I scanned back; what had Dr. Gurathin been doing (when he wasn’t buried in his book)? He’d been checking our plotted course, the risk assessments, our inventory, Ship’s manifest—all the details of this one flight. Ship was as puzzled as me. I tried to put it to the back of my mind, but it nagged at me.

I recorded the lights, and edited together a file for Dr. Gurathin. There wasn’t any useful information in the data, but anyway. They melted away before dawn, and I watched a strange star dawn on an alien world. Dr. Gurathin’s form became unwieldy as he regained consciousness. He quite suddenly segued from a warm heavy bag of huge metal orbs into a sack of sharp sticks, all angles. I swung the pod around to the morning orientation, and he disgorged. I climbed out after him.

“What do we need to talk about?” I asked.

He stood up straight, pushed his hands back through his hair. He took a slow deep breath, and shook his head slightly, as if shaking away the traces of his dreams. He stood staring at the horizon, “Good morning, SecUnit. I have noticed some anomalies.”

#murderbot #the murderbot diaries #fanfic #only one bed trope #gurathin my beloved #Gurathin #original fic #archive of our own #ao3fic #OT3

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reidecorating · 4 years

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Not Just Today, but Forever

A/N: This absolutely was not requested, I was just watching 14 x 06 and the only thing my eyes could focus on was Matthew Gubler looking like he forgot he was needed for filming that day and shaved that morning with a ridged cucumber, in the dark (spoiler: patchy ass beard) but I guess we can thank him in a way because this came out of it <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.6k-ish words of pure fluff

Summary: Stalling on going to work because prioritising your pretty boyfriend and sleeping in is far more inviting - along with shaving his face for him.

Warnings: None, just some steamy smooches

It was the far from languid tone of his alarm that hooked through his ears and, from a blanket navy darkness, reeled Spencer Reid into the waking realm as if he were a flounder found floating too close to a fisherman’s pier in a high morning tide. He hastily reached a stiff hand to meet his eyes, joints inharmoniously clicking, forcing them open - only after he had rubbed them hard enough to see invisible neon swirls painting his eyelids. He let out a yawn and reached for the buzzing clock. It was an old thing he’d found while antiquing once, having picked it up thinking its faded sage green would bring life to the mahogany catacomb of his room. He never thought the body occupying the right side of his bed, no doubt buried in a larger portion of sheets than he currently was, would do exactly that, instead. Slowly turning onto an aching shoulder, he faced the woman sprawled out beside him, clearly unbothered by the racket of alarm bells. He admired her for a moment, watching her chest rise and fall, the shadow of her smile chasing away the dark of night. Spencer’s heart grew fonder than he thought was possible at the way she stirred, leaning in his direction, yearning to be closer to him even when they were separated by sleep. Fingers parting the tangle of hair splayed across silk pillowcases - some of which he was sure had reached his mouth - he tucked it behind her ears, noticing the slight twitching of her nose subside as the tickling strands were now out of the way. Finally, Spencer planted a kiss on the apple of her cheek, fondly letting his lips linger just long enough so as to not wake her too soon.

Routine was something Spencer never kept to. The unpredictability of his life, which primarily haunted him from the second he strapped a gun to his hip and walked out the door, never left much space for it; the badge only showed that he was a protector - not protected. So, the hum of an electric toothbrush, and the grumble of a coffee machine sandwiching his simple morning cycle had become a convention he’d come to adore. Tiptoeing to shut the bathroom door, now half dressed in an incorrectly buttoned dress shirt, some boxers and one green sock, Spencer smiled to himself at the way her forehead was the only thing he could now make out beneath the sheets. Lifting the blanket, he lay back down beside her, feeling indifferent towards the creases he was aware were forming on the ironed fabric on his shoulders. He nudged her jaw with his nose. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty, it’s time to get up,” Spencer giggled as she let out a groan in annoyance at his attempt to get her out of bed. “Aurora was awoken with a kiss, you need to step up your game, doctor,” she opened one eye briefly to squint at him, shutting it again and pointing her nose along with comically puckered lips in the air. “Aurora was also asleep for a hundred years, and last time I checked, you were not,” he reasoned, deliberately avoiding her request. “She was lucky, ‘m so tired,” she nuzzled her head into his chest, sighing softly as she basked in the warmth he provided, ignoring the strength of his newly applied cologne. Spencer’s hands were nearly gravitating towards his phone, fully prepared to dial in sick, and convince her to do the same. “I let you snooze for a few extra minutes,” he spoke lowly, almost believing if he spoke too loud the rest of the world would wake up, interrupting what momentarily belonged to the two of them. “You were smiling in your sleep, I didn’t want to wake you,”

“Mhm, but y’should’ve,” the upturned heel of her hand stretched away from her and into the air, words jumbling together as they left her mouth, “you’re much better than’ny dream I’ve ever had,” she reached out to tousle his hair. “Oh! I’m so sorry, you’ve already done your hair,” her eyes widened before she grimaced and attempted to pat it all back down. Spencer couldn’t help himself, his smile reaching hers before their lips melded together. The hand that his head wasn’t propped on, dug through the heavy duvet to find the bone of her hip, tracing it lightly as his lips trailed along the column of her throat, careful not to leave marks.

Knowing they both had places to be, she stopped him before they travelled past a point of no return. “You hate morning breath?”

“My love for you outweighs it,” his lips hovered over hers, fluttering against them as he spoke. “Mm, poetic,” she finally caught them between hers again, the soft heat of his mouth on hers waking her up more efficiently than a shower. “Did you know that if you snore or breathe through your mouth at night, you’re more likely-“

“To have bad breath in the morning than those who don’t? Yes, Spencer, you’ve told me this before… Once or twice.” He kissed her again. “But did you know that one in two people sleep with their mouth open? All I’m saying is that I do not, so I’ll leave the rest of the deductions up to you, my genius boy.” He let out a huff of laughter, tongue pushing at the inside of his cheek as he shook his head. He hoped his eyes could say the things he couldn’t quite communicate out loud. Brown, she observed. The green in them would be brought back when the sun fully rose, only for its brightness to be put to shame by his smile. Her fingernails delicately raked along his jaw, eventually gathering at his chin, cautiously tilting his confused head from side to side. “What’re you up to?” He asked, face scrunching up in curiosity. Examining it as well as she could in the early light, she trailed her thumb away from the corner of his mouth, unshaven stubble its compass. “You missed a spot,” she noted, unabashedly examining his celestial features. Spencer raised a brow, “I may have been distracted by the beautiful girl in my bed,”

“You may be smooth, lover boy, but this beard of yours certainly isn’t,” she teased, blushing slightly. He brought up his own hand to feel at the light bristles. Defeated, he stood up in the direction of the bathroom.

Repining for the warmth of his body, having used up all her wild cards in coaxing him back into bed, she followed him to the sink. “Let me get it, please?” She politely asked as he rummaged through the cabinet for some shaving cream. Understanding how he felt about people prodding at him, like vultures to a carcass, she knew she was treading ice of a frozen Spring lake. “Considering I would’ve gone to work looking like this if it weren’t for you,” he motioned to his face with a razor, “Okay,” he nodded. She perched herself on the counter, gasping at the cool marble hitting her exposed thighs. Spencer gave her a look, cheeks red. “I can see the gears turning in your head,” she bit back a grin, pointing a finger at him. “I’m just making sure I can reach your pretty face,”

“I see,” he raised his eyebrows, the supple skin of his hands reaching to spread her knees in order for him to take his place between them. “I just don’t want you to be late to work,” he mumbled, handing you a silver razor. “Don’t worry, I’m always early. It’ll be good to let everyone think I have a life, for once,”

“I know what you mean, there was once a rumour that I actually slept beneath the BAU round table.” She laughed at that, and it was the sweetest sound to ever reach Spencer’s ears. She swirled the foam between her hands and lathered it onto his face with a feather touch, smitten with a smile at the way he crinkled his nose when his eyes flew shut. “That feels nice,” he hummed, forgetting that the cream tastes unpleasant. “Shh, shaving foam isn’t a good substitute for breakfast,” she hushed. Spencer’s hands played with the hem of her rumpled shirt, before sliding along her torso, while she tentatively worked her way through the small patches of stubble, paying close attention to the underside of his chin. Distractedly, her fingers ran along the scar tissue splayed on his neck. She kissed his temple before her mind travelled to a shadowy place. Every wrong turn had somehow led him right to her, and she needed to remind herself of that. Soon enough, she dabbed a warm cloth across his face, fawning over his beauty under the ruse of admiring her handiwork. Unable to practise self control, she littered small kisses across his cheeks before, once again, painting stamps of love over his smooth jaw, and tugging at his lips with her own, leaving them swollen when he pulled away. “Thank you,” he whispered as his forehead rested against hers, her eyes illuminated in the bathroom light. “I never tell you this enough, but I love you,”

“You’re very welcome, Spencer, and you remind me everyday, even without saying it,” Spencer gently nodded against her, his head having moved to rest against her chest. “I love you to Pluto, Spencer,” she toyed with his scalp, feeling his smile, “but you have to be in by eight, so you need to run,” she informed. He nipped at her clavicle, completely enamoured by the angel sitting on his sink, ignoring time. “I’ll be here when you get back, mister,” she gently squeezed his shoulders. Spencer gazed up at her, a silent ‘Do you promise?’ to which her eyes told him, ‘Not just today, but forever’.

#You would not believe your eyes #If Mads wisely used her time #toactuallywritesomethinglmao #anyway here's something for all you folks #spencer reid #cbs criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg fic #mgg fluff #criminal minds fic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #mggedit #matthew gray gubler imagine #mine: writing

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swan-of-sunrise · 3 years

Text

Spellbinding (Chapter Eleven-Part One)

Summary: Asgard hosts a ball in honor of the visiting Alfheimian delegation, and (Y/N) is conflicted about meeting the Light Elves and the possibility of discovering her mother’s fate.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Eleven (Part I) October 16th, 2015 Asgard (Previous Chapter)

“C’mon, Loki, is that the best you two’ve got?” (Y/N) shouted over the thundering noise of Aurora and Samson’s hooves and glanced sideways at Loki with a teasing grin. After a week’s worth of horseback riding lessons and bonding with her mare, she and Loki were finally able to put their skills to the test in a ‘friendly’ race through the forests of Asgard.

Loki chuckled and leaned closer to Samson’s ear. “You’re not going to take that, old friend, are you?” The stallion neighed and picked up his speed. “That’s it!”

Rolling her eyes, (Y/N) gripped her reins tighter and helped Aurora gallop around some shrubbery. “Aurora, I know that we’ve only known each other for a week but do you really want the males to win this race?” Aurora nickered, speeding up and coming in neck-to-neck with Samson. “That’s what I thought!”

“I never pegged you as the competitive type, darling!”

(Y/N) shot Loki a smirk and yelled back, “And I never thought that you would be a sore loser!” With that, Aurora sped past Samson and darted between two yellow-leafed trees, and (Y/N) let out a victorious cheer; tugging lightly on the reigns, she waited until Aurora slowed into a walk to glance back at Loki, who looked miffed while he slowed Samson to walk beside her. “I win!”

Loki frowned as he worked to catch his breath. “It was simply beginner’s luck.”

“Mm-hmm, sure it was, sweetheart,” (Y/N) ginned at the look he gave her as they guided the horses out of the forest. “What? It’s not my fault that Aurora and I bonded quickly!” Loki remained silent, his green eyes staring stubbornly ahead. “Oh, don’t be like that! Would you feel better if I gave some of the credit to Aurora’s trainer?”

“…It depends on how much.”

“How about…twelve percent?” She couldn’t help but giggle as she uttered the words and even Loki couldn’t fight the smile that was spreading on his face as he rolled his eyes in faux exasperation.

For over a week, she and Loki had been making up for lost time; they’d visited the city and all of the different shops it had to offer, they spent an entire day sailing both on the water and through the skies around Asgard and (Y/N) learned the hard way that navigating churning waves didn’t agree with her stomach, and Loki had also been teaching her how to ride a horse. Because she was mastering horseback riding so quickly, she and Loki spent a lot of time out riding with Aurora and Samson and exploring the forests of Asgard; Loki had even taken her to his secret grove to collect flowers for his mother and fruits for the horses. This week’s been a dream come true, she thought with a content smile, and there’s no one I’d rather spend it with than Loki.

“Once you’ve finished gloating, darling, we should head back to the palace for some lunch before we have to prepare for the ball tonight.” Loki glanced at her, his expression becoming a little uncertain as his green eyes filled with concern. “Are you going to be all right meeting the Alfheimians?”

(Y/N) sighed and nodded, looking down at the reigns in her hands. “I thank so. It’ll do me some good to try and learn as much as I can from them while they’re here.”

Ever since she learned that an Alfheimian delegation would be visiting Asgard for their bi-millennial peace treaty negotiation during their stay, she couldn’t decide if their impending arrival excited or worried her. On one hand, she welcomed any opportunity to learn more about her heritage and Alf Seidr but on the other hand, she was a little nervous about the possibility of learning of her mother and father’s fates. For twenty-six years, (Y/N) had assumed that her parents were dead and she eventually got over the fact that she’d never see them again, but when Loki told her all those months ago that her mother was a Light Elf from Alfheim, a small flicker of hope had grown inside her that perhaps her parents were alive. She was afraid that after months of quietly hoping that she might finally be able to meet her parents, she would only discover that they really had been dead for all those years.

I don’t even know how I’d begin to deal with that news, (Y/N) thought to herself before looking back up at Loki. “Whatever happens tonight, we’ll handle it together. I promise.” Deciding to change the subject, she said, “Truth be told, Loki, I think I’m a little more nervous about going to my very first ball. I wouldn’t want to wind up making a fool of myself or anything…”

“Darling, you could never; you’ll fit right in and I’ll be by your side the entire evening, I promise.” Loki held Samson’s reigns in one hand and held the other out for her to take, bringing hers up and pressing a delicate kiss onto her knuckles. “You and I will dance into the stars, my love.” (Y/N) matched his soft smile and a short while later, they reached the stables and were taking care of the horses as they playfully debated which Avenger could last the longest in a fight with Sif when Thor hurried in. “Good, you can settle our debate, brother; who do you think would last longer in battle against Lady Sif, Stark or Romanoff?”

“That’s hardly fair; Lady Natasha would simply befriend Lady Sif and both would team up to defeat Stark together.” Thor grinned as (Y/N) shot Loki a smug look and Loki childishly stuck his tongue out at her. “I came to inform you both that the Alfheimian delegation has arrived and that they seem to have brought their king with them.”

Loki’s brow furrowed as he poured a pail of water into Samson’s trough. “That’s odd, but then again, Alfheimians are known for their unusual actions…” He smiled mischievously at (Y/N), and she only raised her eyebrows imposingly in response to his teasing.

“Father also asked me to inform you that he wishes you to join our negotiations in the council chambers, Loki.”

Loki’s smile fell instantly at the mention of the Allfather. “…Oh, this should be fun; we’re going to spend hours trapped in a room with the Allfather and be forced to once-again listen to his idiotic demands that Alfheim should abandon their non-interventionism in favor of a completely unfair trade agreement that only serves to benefit Asgard.” Loki remarked, his earlier cheerfulness gone and replaced with annoyance and sarcasm. (Y/N) could tell, however, that his adoptive father’s invitation had taken him by surprise.

Thor frowned. “Loki…”

“Save it, Thor, I’m in no mood to hear another lecture about my attitude,” Loki grumbled. He turned to look at (Y/N) and the hard look in his green eyes softened a little. “I’ll see you later tonight at the ball, darling.”

“See you later, Loki.” (Y/N) stood on her tiptoes to plant a brief kiss on his lips before he turned and began walking out of the stables. Thor also wished her well before leaving, but (Y/N) could tell that the Asgardian’s smile was forced. When both brothers left the stables, she turned back to Aurora and leaned against her stall door with a sigh.

After learning about Loki’s entire past, (Y/N) finally understood why he was so angry with his adoptive father; Odin had kept his distance from her throughout their visit, and she wasn’t sure if it was because he thought her beneath him or because he was wary of her. It’s too bad because I’d love nothing more than to give that man a piece of my mind about how he raised Thor and Loki, she thought with an annoyed huff, her mind flashing back to all the heartbreaking memories her boyfriend had shared with her.

“I’ll see you both later!” (Y/N) patted Aurora and Samson on their snouts and smiled. “I have to go get ready for a royal ball…”

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Several hours later, (Y/N) stood in front of her chamber’s enormous mirror and pressed the button to make her glasses invisible before inspecting her nearly unrecognizable reflection. She wore a stunning beaded emerald-green gown, its neckline cut low and its straps hung off her shoulders. The bodice hugged her chest, and layers upon layers of delicate gold-embroidered fabric flared out from her waist to create a full skirt. She chose to wear a pair of short green heels, applied only a minimal amount of makeup and her (Y/H/C) had been carefully styled with the help of Sif, who had suggested at lunch that they should prepare for the ball together. I feel like Cinderella when she got to go to the ball, she thought, twirling in a circle and giggling in delight as her shimmering skirts swirled around her legs.

“What are you laughing about over there?”

(Y/N) stopped twirling to look over at Sif, who was smiling bemusedly at her as she ran a comb through her freshly-straightened hair by the open window. She wore a gown similar to hers, but it was long-sleeved and silver, and the skirt wasn’t nearly as full. “Oh, I just realized that I feel like Cinderella.” When Sif’s brow furrowed in confusion, she elaborated. “Cinderella is the main character of a very popular fairytale on Midgard; she’s an abused servant in her step-family’s home and with the help of her fairy godmother, she gets to go to a ball and winds up meeting the prince, and then…well, to make a long story short, they fall in love and live happily ever after.”

“I seem to recall a story similar to that from my own childhood, but doesn’t the prince feed the step-family to a rampaging dragon?”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened. “Um…I don’t think that I’ve heard that version before but in a different version written by the Grimm Brothers, both stepsisters’ eyes are pecked out by birds.”

Sif looked impressed. “Interesting…well, in any case, you certainly look like a princess. I’m sure that Loki-”

Just then, there was a quiet knock on the chamber’s door. (Y/N) hurried to the door and opened it to reveal Frigga, dressed in a glimmering golden gown complete with a tiara made of diamonds and gold. “Oh no, are we late?”

“Of course not, my dear, we still have time before the ball begins. I’m here with gifts for the two of you.” Frigga gestured to the large box in her hands as she entered the chamber. She set the box down on the table in the center of the room and opened it to reveal sparkling jewelry. “You both already look enchanting, but I figured that you might enjoy some added sparkle.”

In no time, the two of them were decked out in the most beautiful jewelry (Y/N) had ever laid eyes on. Sif chose not to wear a tiara but instead a silver hair clip designed to look like a vine of leaves, and she wore a simple silver and ruby necklace. Since she was accompanying a Prince of Asgard, Frigga insisted that (Y/N) wear a stunning gold and emerald tiara and (Y/N) picked a plain gold necklace to match. As the three of them left her chambers, (Y/N) caught a glance of herself in the mirror and was again awed by her royal appearance.

“Loki said that he’ll meet you here,” Frigga said once they reached the massive golden open doors of the ballroom; inside, faint music was playing while countless people milled about and chatted. (Y/N) nodded once, and the queen placed a comforting hand on her bare shoulder. “Just breathe, my dear. Everything will be perfect, just try and enjoy yourself.” With one last smile, she and Sif entered the ballroom.

(Y/N) fiddled with her hands, her earlier nervousness beginning to return so to distract herself, she thought about her aunt. She’d be treating this like prom if she were here, she thought as she glanced up at the ceiling with an amused chuckle. The mental image of her aunt holding a disposable camera and fawning over her and Loki gave her the comfort she needed, and she felt herself beginning to relax a little.

“You truly are an angel.”

She turned around to see Loki, a look of unabashed awe on his face as he stood several feet away from her. He wore a long-sleeved emerald-green coat with accents of gold thread and black trousers tucked into a pair of black boots. His raven locks were neatly combed back, making his face appear even more angular, and the green of his jacket brought out the stunning color of his eyes. He’s so beautiful, she thought to herself, her heart hammering away in her chest as he neared her.

“I think that’s a bit of an over-exaggeration, Loki.”

“Trust me, darling, from where I’m standing it’s anything but.” Loki stopped right in front of her, cupping her cheek with one hand and resting the other on her waist as he leaned down and captured her lips in a passion-filled kiss. After several moments, they separated and he gently asked, “How do you feel?”

“A little nervous, but ready. And by the way, you look very handsome tonight.” (Y/N)’s fingers traced the embroidery on his chest and she met Loki’s gaze with a growing smile. “You look amazing in green, sweetheart…though I can’t help but wonder how you’d look in purple.”

Loki hummed thoughtfully, his eyes darkening as his lips curved into a crooked grin. “In your color? Darling, does the thought of me wearing your favorite color entice you?” The hand on her face prevented her from ducking her head in embarrassment while the one on her waist tugged her closer to him. “There’s no need to be bashful; I’ll admit that seeing you dressed in my colors makes for a rather…appealing sight.” His fingers gently caressed her face before trailing down the side of her neck to rest on her bare shoulder, his tantalizing touch making (Y/N)’s breath hitch. He leaned down and just as she tilted her head up to kiss him, he placed a halting finger against her lips and grinned. “As tempting as you are, my love, we should head in before they start looking for us.”

“You’re such a tease, Loki!” (Y/N) playfully shoved her boyfriend’s shoulder while he chuckled, taking a moment to smooth out the skirt of her dress and fan her warmed face. “Before you distracted me, I was going to ask you how you’re feeling but you seem to be doing okay; I know that this is your first ball since Thor’s banishment…”

“I feel more at ease than I thought I would and as long as you’re by my side, (Y/N), I know that I’ll be fine.” With a charming smile, Loki bowed and offered her his arm. “My lady, would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you this fine evening?”

She couldn’t help but giggle at his theatrics as she gave him a small curtsy. “Why, of course, my prince!” They both grinned and she wrapped her arm around his. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that, Loki.”

“I had an inkling of an idea after seeing your impressive Netflix viewing history. Honestly, I’ll bet you’ve seen every single Regency-Era film and movie that the streaming platform has to offer…”

Loki led her into the ballroom and down the staircase, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but gawk as she took in the beauty and grandeur of it all; the room was lit with magnificent chandeliers, the floor shone and the most beautifully dressed men and women mingled and talked as musicians played a melodious tune. There were a handful of nearby Asgardians who examined her curiously as she and Loki made their way down the stairs, but she just raised her chin and continued walking until they reached a familiar face at the bottom.

“You look stunning, Lady (Y/N)!” Thor exclaimed with a bright grin. His long blonde hair was tied back and he wore an outfit similar to Loki’s, except his was dark red instead of green. “Green suits you.”

(Y/N) smiled and bumped him lightly with her shoulder. “Thank you, Thor, you look nice as well!”

“I welcome you, Asgardians!” (Y/N)’s head whipped around as the music stopped to see Odin and Frigga standing arm-in-arm at the top of the grand staircase. The Allfather was dressed in shining gold armor and held an ornate spear in his free hand, and Frigga’s bright smile lit up the room. A little ways away from the pair stood an extremely tall man, dressed in an ornate magenta tunic and a golden crown. He had straight golden-blonde hair, pointed ears and vivid charcoal-grey eyes, and his tanned skin shimmered faintly in the light; although his face was lightly lined, (Y/N) could sense that he still had strength and vitality in him. Her eyes widened a moment later when she realized who he could possibly be. “We are gathered here tonight to honor our guests, King Tarian of Alfheim and his delegation.” The ballroom erupted into applause as he gestured to the man behind him, who gave a small bow. “And we are here to celebrate the renegotiation of our realms’ peace treaty. May our two realms continue to flourish and grow as we support each other on the battlefields and one day, through the trade routes.” Loki rolled his eyes as everyone clapped again.

Frigga’s smile widened as she called out, “The ball shall commence with the first dance, led by Prince Loki and Lady (Y/N).”

(Y/N)’s heart began to race at the Queen of Asgard’s words; Frigga gave her a small wink, which in turn gave her the burst of courage to take Loki’s hand and allow him to lead her through the whispering crowd and onto the massive dance floor. Once they took their place, Loki flashed her a grin as he bowed and (Y/N) couldn’t help but return it with a smile and a wink as she dipped into a curtsy. When she rose, Loki clasped her hand in his and placed the other on her waist, and she clutched a handful of her skirt in her free hand; the musicians began playing a beautiful waltz as Loki started to twirl them around the floor.

“I thought that you always share the first dance with your mother?”

Loki smiled and murmured back, “After the peace treaty negotiations, she told me that she wanted the two of us to share the first dance of your first Asgardian ball and she simply wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

She smirked as he held her hand above her head and twirled her in a circle. “Now I know where you get that stubborn determination from.” By then, other couples had joined them on the dance floor and (Y/N) couldn’t help but marvel at the entrancing sight as she and Loki performed the dance moves that they’d been practicing all week; but while she was enamored with the scene around her, she felt a twinge of foreboding, as if something horrible was about to happen that would shatter the picturesque moment…

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A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Chapter Eleven-Part Two

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular @itscomplicatedx @0-artemis @vivloki

#loki x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki #loki odinson #thor odinson #frigga #lady sif #odin #marvel cinematic universe

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