name one hero who was happy

bek 21 infj he/his this is my place for anything that relates to my roleplaying. if you see something you like, or you want to rp with me, don't be afraid to drop me a message! i'd love to talk. thanks to chey for the awesome graphics on this blog!

[patrocluus-writes-blog]

Verbena- pray for me, zeke & arthur

Verbena- pray for me

Arthur’s stomach turned in and in and in, tying itself into a Gordian Knot as he watched the frantic energy bleed off his best friend.  His Zeke.  Moxie - good ol’ Captain Moxie - sensed it, sensed it through the slight tremble of his hand in her fur, the way his breaths shook in and out of him - he wasn’t gasping for air but he felt starved of it anyhow - and pressed into his leg.  Trying to ground him, root him back in the here and now as he watched Zeke almost throw magazine after magazine of special rounds into a bag, each one landing with a dull, metallic thud that made him flinch each time.  

This happened every time Cassie and Zeke went out monster hunting.  They always invited him, but he was always too scared.  Terrified that it might get past them, might tear them up like the other one had him - or worse - and it would come for him.  

Moxie whined, shifting and turning to lick at his cool, clammy, trembling hand.  Zeke stopped then, recognizing her whine as a warning, and fixed Arthur with a careful stare.  

“I’m comin’ back, y’know,” he said, voice sharp, verging on too sharp.

“I know.”  Too quick.  Too shaky.  Too quiet.

A beat.  A beat that stretched out into a long silence as Arthur tried to decode the emotion written in the deep crease between Zeke’s brows, the pressed-thin set of his lips, the depths of his eyes.  He could never fully read the other man, - had never been able to - could only separate his expressions into safe and not safe.  This?  Somewhere in between.  

“Not gonna let that fuckin’ sombitch kill me,” Zeke added.  That was anger, coloring the curses he uttered.

“Come home,” Arthur breathed, between one heartbeat and the next, before Zeke could move away.  I can’t lose you remained unspoken - he couldn’t find the air nor the courage to say it.  

Moxie pressed harder into his legs, enough to nearly buckle his knees, distracting him just long enough that he missed Zeke zipping up the bag and slinging it over his shoulder.  Arthur opened his mouth, trying to find something to say, but nothing came out.  

At least, not until after Zeke had left and the door closed behind him.

“I’ll pray for you.”

[ravengirlwrites]

intimate (arthur and zeke)

send intimate for a nonsexual intimate starter

75. looking into each other’s eyes

“Fuck contacts, man.” Zeke scrubs madly at an eye, until it goes pink with the pestering. He is not great at just leaving things for a minute, which would probably solve every problem he’s having right now.

“Leave it for a minute,” Arthur suggests. His hands are steepled over a steaming hot mug. Moxie lies unperturbed beside the diner booth. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck …” Zeke mutters. He slides in the other side, coffee slopping over the thick ceramic lip of a diner mug. It’s hot, but Zeke’s not feeling it in the moment. “I’m going to tear this sombitch in fucking half.”

Arthur sighs. “Stop it,” he says, and because he must know that Zeke is probably not going to bite–can he feel it in the air? how does he know, how does he figure when Zeke’s harmless–he snags Zeke’s hand and forces it to the table. Bold, for Arthur. 

He stares him dead in the eye, looking for something. Zeke’s pretty sure he’s just mean-mugging Arthur the whole time, but it’s not active, he’s not gonna do anything. When Arthur lets go, he gestures toward his own eye. “You have an eyelash, I think, stuck in there,” Arthur says, delivering his final diagnosis. 

“Yeah?” Zeke fishes the contact out. A black motherfucking eyelash sticks up like a middle fucking finger from the convex side of the lens. “Fuck contacts.”

“You need it,” Arthur reminds him, and Zeke doesn’t rip it in half after all.

“All clear?” he asks.

Arthur leans in. His eyes are darker, always darker than Zeke expects, and he’s known him for about a thousand years. He remembers the scars as being more prominent, but now they are pale, glinting threads across Arthur’s skin. Zeke knows where to look for all of them. 

“Yeah,” Arthur says at last. “All clear.”

[theclassicistwrites]

zinnia (arthur/merlin)

The leaves shudder in the wake of the breeze, branches dipping to meet the wind with a sweet kiss, moaning. 

There are lakes in valleys that whisper your name every time a wave rolls up to greet the shore, lips cold in life as in death.

I can hear the roll of your fingers tapping against your desk; quill in hand; lips bitten and red; brows knitted together - Don’t think too much, you’ll hurt yourself - in the roll of my shoulders; joints popping, cracking, snapping back into place; the callouses between your thumb and forefinger cracked as dry riverbeds, cracks that follow the lines of my bloodshot eyes.

From the depths of the waterbed in which you sleep, there are songs that carry over the ripples of the tides that stretch from the mouth of the rivers to carve your face out of rock and earth and they are your fingers stretched wide, reaching. For me.

For me.

For us, yearning, crying out from the bottom of the lake in which I am told you are resting, you are waiting, but you are screaming, reaching - always reaching. Impatient in life as in death.

And I hear your voice in the wind as it whips through the trees, carrying your name from the depths of the valleys, I too shudder as the leaves.

I too grieve.

[patrocluus-writes-blog]

yarrow {theo/bradley}

Yarrow- cure for a broken heart

It should’ve been easy.  It should’ve been easy to turn and walk away from Theo.  After all, he’d known that they couldn’t be together forever.  Not if Theo wanted to stay human.  Bradley knew he couldn’t watch Theo age and die in front of him, especially after- after- 

Not after his mother.

Father had been right, hadn’t he?  It was stupid to fall for a human, for someone whose life would pass by in the blink of an eye, who’d die too fast for an immortal creature like himself.  A monster like himself.  Theo deserved better, more human.  And Bradley was neither of those things.  He’d killed, he’d maimed, he’d done despicable things to slake the insatiable thirst for blood that ran through his veins now.  He thought back to the moment Theo had seen his fangs - the fear that had flashed in the other male’s eyes - and sighed.  

It was for the best, he told himself.  Theo would move on, he told his aching heart.

But here he was, years later, sitting in a café forgetting about his coffee in favor of staring at the one person he’d never thought he’d see again.  At Theo.  And his heart ached.  Wanted.  It ached for the other man’s arms around him again, like nothing had ever happened.  Like they were undergrads again, laughing and splashing each other at that creek that one cloudy summer day.  

Like they were lovers again.

He sighed, passing a hand over his face as if to dispel the vision of their past, only to reopen his eyes and meet Theo’s.  

Here he was again, months after that meeting in the café.  Months after having to chase Theo down and tell him about what George had done.  How he’d finally stood up to his father after hundreds of years, had told him he’d had enough of the unreachable expectations.  How he’d been disowned and left without a penny to his name.  

He’d eked out a life for himself as an associate professor since then.  A tiny flat.  Threadbare clothes.  He always chuckled when it came to having to pay for groceries - luckily for him, being immortal and sustained by blood meant he’d never really had to eat to live.  He survived.

But now he had Theo again.

And his heart had stopped aching.

[citrusconcerto-blog]

FLOWERS AND PROMPTS

Everybody loves flowers! Everybody loves prompts! Now, love them even more with this A-to-Z flower (meaning) meme! Drop one with a fandom or pairing into my ask, or toss in a bouquet’s worth into there, and I’ll write a thing! Feel free to reblog this and be showered in flowers~

Azalea- fragile and ephemeral passion Buttercup- ingratitude Camellia- my destiny is in your hands Daylily- coquetry Elder- compassion Forsythia- anticipation Gladiolus- you pierce my heart Holly- foresight Impatiens- impatience Jonquil- desire Kingcup- youth, innocence, dawn Lily- majesty Marigold- grief Nettle- cruelty Oats- the witching soul of music Persimmon- bury me amid nature’s beauty Quince- temptation Raspberry- remorse Sweet pea- delicate pleasures Thistle- misanthropy Ulmus- royalty, strength, age Verbena- pray for me Witch hazel- a spell Xeranthemum- eternity, immortality Yarrow- cure for a broken heart Zinnia- I mourn your absence

(flowers and meanings from here and here)

[melisica]

Milly Cope

[ehdonismo]

[starwreathedarchive-blog]

Mood Board Meme;

[ofelah]

obclisk:

Send me ☆ for a mood board of just your muse.

Send me ☾ for a mood board of our muses relationship.

Send me ❀ for a mood board of our mun to mun relationship.

Send me ☠ for a mood board representing a pre-established relationship between our muses that have never interacted.

[fixshe]

[im-loki]

[ofelah]

hiddlcstoon:

[Coriolanus] is the man who denied himself to the most relatable human feelings. He’s someone who feels invulnerable and impenetrable. He’s not someone who is given easily to charm.. or friendliness.. or even smiling.

[ghostling]

H O R R O R . P R O M P T S

“I just got back from the cemetery.”

“I swear I just saw someone… or something looking in my window.”

“I know I closed the damn closet door, but it keeps opening! Please tell me this is just some kind of joke you keep pulling.”

“What’s behind you in these pictures…?”

“Apparently like 20 years ago, some girl slaughtered her family in the basement.”

“I think there’s something about this house that you’re not telling me.”

“I keep hearing noises coming from the attic…”

“I know what I saw, and whatever is in the basement… it’s not human!”

“I didn’t have time to see what it was! I just got the hell out of there!”

“Whose grave were you bringing flowers to…?”

“The electricity guy said there was absolutely nothing wrong – and yet, the lights always flicker on at 2am. Explain that to me?”

“Why don’t you spend the night in that house ‘alone’, then try to convince me that you don’t believe in ghosts.”

“Y-you don’t understand, he didn’t have a face!”

“I had a dream that I killed you.”

“Ah, yes… the room you’re staying in. It’s a paranormal hot spot, apparently.”

"I keep hearing whispers at night… I-I can’t sleep!”

“There was something else in there with me, I’m not going back to that house.”

“Come on, it’s just an urban legend…”

“Are you trying to tell me I’ve been sleeping in a dead girl’s room!?”

"I keep getting the feeling that someone is following me.”

“Don’t panic… but I think there’s someone else in the house.”

“I can still feel her/his ghost, and it’s killing me…”

“There’s something growling in the basement… could you, uh… check it out for me?”

“Can you just… can you please check the closet?”

“P-please… put the knife down.”

“I bought this haunted ring on eBay!”

“No, no, no – run!”

"I didn’t forward one of those freaky chain letters and now I keep hearing the laughter of children coming from my hallways at night.”

“The dead are all around us…”

“She’s dead! She’s dead and yet I keep seeing her, everywhere!”

“There’s something breathing under the bed…”

"You can’t tell me you don’t believe in ghosts after all we’ve been through.”

“I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see, something… that wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“Maybe an exorcism is in order…?”

“I woke up, and it was j-just… staring at me.”

“He was there, then like a second later he literally vanished! I saw it happen!”

“I like the ghosts here… they keep me company.”

"You can’t honestly tell me you’re in love with a dead girl.”

“Wasn’t someone murdered in this house? Why are we here?”

“If dying means being with him/her, kill me. I’d be happier that way.”

“Ghosts aren’t real. You need help.”

“…what do you mean we didn’t talk last night? You came over, you were here.”

“You saw something you weren’t supposed to see. And now… now you know what has to be done.”

“I’m pretty sure my toaster’s haunted.”

"What’s wrong with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare open that door!”

“I visited his/her grave for the first time today…”

“Something terrible happened here, didn’t it?”

“Wh-why do you have a knife…?”

"You’re all bloody, what happened!?”

“You know that book from The Evil Dead? Yeah, well… I’m pretty sure we found something pretty damn similar to it.”

“You’re bleeding…”

“How can you not see it…? I’m dead! I’ve been dead for years!”

“I’ve always wanted to see you choking on your own blood.”

“I’m sorry, I’m busy Friday with the… funeral and all.”

“I’ll never forget the sound of his screaming.”

“From the looks of it, the afterlife is a lot more fun than this.”

"Legend has it that you can still hear her crying for her lover in the dead of night.”

“I want to be dead, too.”

“Well don’t you look lovely, all covered in blood.”

"Whoa – wait! Please don’t go down there… let’s just get out of here, please?”

“You played with a Ouija board!?”

“Me and some friends played with a Ouija board the other night… and things have been a little strange since then.”

“There’s so much negative energy in this house… do you know if someone died here?”

“You’re always hanging out in cemeteries… and yeah, it’s kinda creepy.”

"They just don’t believe like they used to…”

“I will haunt you until the end of time.”

[cerceos-deactivated20160308]

[femmefatale-rps]

cerceos:

Louis Dazy | Tumblr 

[patrocluus-writes-blog]

"We can't keep doing this." Luke/Calum

Luke froze, glancing over at Calum with wide, shocked eyes, brow furrowing slightly.  “Wh- Calum, what do you mean?” he asked, even though he knew.  On some level, he knew exactly what his mentor meant.  He knew that, since his capture and torture and the message they’d sent Calum, they couldn’t do this.  They couldn’t do lazy mornings tangled together in bed, or quiet evenings spent pressing soft kisses to each other’s skin.  They couldn’t do the affectionate glances or nicknames Luke often threw Calum’s way.  Not anymore.  

He crossed the room to reach for Calum’s hands, pausing halfway through the movement and pulling his hands back, suddenly too nervous to finish.  “Please, Cal, don’t-”

[theclassicistwrites]

"I'm sorry I called you at 3AM. I needed you." (Charlie/Knox)

“Well, can’t you need me at a more reasonable hour?” he drawls, Dublin accent thick in the haze of the moonlit room, brows knitting together with the strain of slinging together consonants and vowels into thoughts and ideas. He blinks, grey eyes owlish and slow as he drags his body into a semi-upright position, groaning with the effort; fingers clawing at the sheets as he goes, trying to pull him back into the warm embrace of his dented pillow. His limbs are sluggish and he stretches.

Beside him, the clock ticks.

He sighs, resigned. “What is it you need, love?”

[patrocluus-writes-blog]

"I don't need your sympathy." Art/James

Art bit his lip, hands falling limply to his sides as he ducked his head.  “I- I just wanted to- I just wanted to apologize,” he said softly, still refusing to look at the older male.  At the dark bruise blossoming around his eye and across his cheekbone.  He could feel James’ eyes boring holes into him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up - to be frank, Art felt like running again.  His body was screaming at him to run, to get away, but he fought the urge.  Running had gotten him in trouble once, he wouldn’t let it again.  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, an embarrassed flush painting his cheeks.  “I’m honestly sorry.”

[patrocluus-writes-blog]

"I'm a monster." Charlie/Knox

Charlie blinked, pausing behind the pastry fridge as he moved for the milk, eyes flickering to meet the other male’s.  Then he laughed, grinning widely, and shook his head.  “You’re hardly a monster,” he said, waving a hand in Knox’s direction as he worked on making the man’s latte.  “Maybe a little rough around the edges, a little rude sometimes - but only when you have to be - but hardly a monster, Knox.”  He fell almost silent then, only piping up with a quiet laugh every few moments as he considered Knox being a monster.  “If you’re a monster, then I’m the King of England, and we both know if that were the case, I’d hardly be working in a coffee shop near a university, right?  So, not a monster-” he pointed at Knox, “-and not the King of England,” he said, pointing at himself.

[patrocluus-writes-blog]

"It's about the baby. It's yours." Pat/Achilles

Pat’s stomach dropped when he heard Achilles say that, freezing and nearly dropping the glass he’d been sipping from.  As it was, he found himself setting it on the counter so he could prop himself up against it - he could feel his knees going weak.  He barely remembered that night, that awful night, but it seemed Deidameia wasn’t quite done torturing him.  “Achilles, I-” Pat gasped out, wanting to both turn and look the other male in the face and to slide to the floor and hide his face in his knees.  In the end, the latter won out, and he sank with an exhaled breath that rode out of him on a dry sob.  “A- are you sure?”