Painting With Potions

I am the potion maker, I am the well Watcher, I am the eyes that follow I am the wings at Dusk Send ✰ for a starter A side blog of MichelleBennettMageMundane.

[pofudukgillerden-blog]

[presidentmenace]

[writing-prompt-s]

[potionpainter]

writing-prompt-s:

Image Prompt

[locsofpoetry]

Black Boy Joy in the ❄️

[potionpainter]

"OhgodPainterit'ssogoodtoseeyoudon'tleavelikethatagainokay?" There were words somewhere in there, but mostly Painter is left to deal with a rambling armful of Tommy.

Walking into his loft had left him with a sinking suspicion that something was off, and after running his hands along the table and them coming back covered in dust, well, he had a pretty good idea that V’mer’s ‘not-long’ was in ‘elf years’ and not regular mortal years. 

A fact doubly confirmed when he opened the door to insistent knocking and was bowled over by someone that smelled of home. 

“It’s good to see you too, Tommy. Did you have Larry set a motion alarm on my home?” Painter teased, nuzzling into Tommy’s hair and dropping kisses anytime the man’s face surfaced from where it was buried against his neck, chest, or wherever else the detective was pressing it. 

“I am sorry- V’mer said It’d be a short job. Nothing more.”

[potionpainter]

                Always laugh when you can. It is cheap medicine.                                                                         Lord Byron

      ☽ ☾                     ☽ ☾           About           ☽ ☾          Ask           ☽ ☾                    ☽ ☾

۞ Bᴀᴄᴋ Aʟʟᴇʏ Dᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ۞ ɴᴏᴛ fᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ sᴩᴇᴄɪfɪᴄ ۞ {ᴩᴀʀᴀɢʀᴀᴩʜ, ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴩᴀʀᴀɢʀᴀᴩʜ, sɪɴɢʟᴇ ʟɪɴᴇʀs ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴏʀᴛ-fᴏʀᴍᴀᴛ} ۞ ✯ᴀsᴋ, sᴜʙᴍɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴩʟᴏᴛ fʀɪᴇɴᴅʟy

SO YEAH. GUESS WHO’S COMING OFF HIATUS.

All Threads, sadly, will be dropped just because it’s been so damn long.

[pinkoddity73]

[theoblivionbrothers-archive]

❁ Painter gets sick ;D

Send me one prompt:

❁ in which our muses have to deal with a fever

“Leave it to you to get sick before me.”

Tommy laughed as he put his hand to Painter’s forehead, trying to judge the severity of the fever he’d been afflicted with. He had turned it into a joke, but that was broken up by the fact that he was wearing a paper face mask. Tommy had always been particularly sickly, and he didn’t feel like taking any chances.

“Do you need anything? Juice, maybe?” He ran his hand over Painter’s hair. “Your wish is my command.”

[potionpainter]

..........

[theoblivionbrothers-archive]

“Ginger tea, I can do.” Larry and Hadleigh were both out at the moment– both at work, he wagered. Hadleigh was hard to pin down at the best of times, but if Larry wasn’t at the office there weren’t too many other places he could be, so he was enjoyably predictable.

Ginger tea with a little extra something to help that cough, he decided. He couldn’t make the illness go away; even for all of the Nightside’s medical advancement courtesy of the literal future, or many literal futures, they still didn’t have a cure for the common cold.

“Poor thing.” He was probably tempting fate at least a little, but he stayed sitting at Painter’s side and gently played with his braids in the way he knew Painter liked so much.

[potionpainter]

Painter made a small noise of contentment again, and hazarded a glance at Tommy. Seeing the other man brought a smile to his face, and when he closed his eyes again, he kept them there. 

The lack of fingers in his hair was a sensation that made him frown, burrowing into the pillow and letting out a soft noise, hoping to prompt them into returning. When that failed, he picked his head up, peering around. His apartment seemed empty and dark, save for the light in the bathroom. Had he fallen asleep? 

“Tommy?” He rasped out, voice little more than the loudness of a blanket being dragged across a concrete floor.  Carefully, Painter dragged himself to the edge of the bed, throwing his legs over the edge and pulling the blankets up around his shoulder. He peered at a nearby clock, and felt his stomach rumble. 

[theoblivionbrothers-archive]

“Mm..” From painter ;D to haddy

Send “Mm..” and my muse will react to yours kissing their neck.

Hadleigh murmured softly as he felt the familiar gentle tickle of lips at the curve of his neck. He leaned back, giving Painter better access to whatever spots he so chose.

“Heading to bed?” he asked, reaching up to run his fingers through Painter’s many countless braids as he knew he liked. He set down his book, not bothering to mark the page. He would know where to continue from when he came back to it, and to anyone else all of the pages would have just appeared totally blank anyway.

“Want me to join you?”

[potionpainter]

The painter just nuzzled his face against the expanse of pale skin before him, breathing deeply of the scent that was so very much Hadleigh. A mix of magic and roses and the musty, dusty smell of ancient libraries and stores. It reminded him, sometimes, of a place he used to live. Quiet, but prone to storms. It was a lovely place to live, with the wind echoing like singing in the early mornings. 

He let out another mumbled noise as fingers scratched at his scalp, and gave Hadleigh a soft squeeze. 

“If it wouldn’t bother you, that would be wonderful. You have yet to tell me about your last job. If there’s anything to tell, of course.” Painter said, smiling against Hadleigh’s neck, yet not moving just yet back to the bedroom. 

[end0skeletal]

by JestePhotography

[theoblivionbrothers-archive]

"Smooch" from painter, for the eldest of the brothers.

Send “Smooch” for a reaction from my muse when yours give them a kiss on the lips.

“And what did I do to earn that?” His hands went automatically to Painter’s waist as he tilted his head down, his gaze settling somewhere along Painter’s collarbone.

“And what, pray tell, can I do to earn it again?”

[potionpainter]

.............

[theoblivionbrothers-archive]

Hadleigh tilted his head up as Painter requested, letting him get a good look at his eyes. Some days they were black as the night sky, others they were the same steely-blue of his brothers and mother. He wondered what Painter was seeing now.

“I can’t say I have all the time in the world for you without making a liar out of myself.. but all the time I have is yours. Always.” His thumbs rubbed circles on Painter’s hips as he stepped closer to press himself chest to chest with his lover.

[potionpainter]

Painter leaned up and pressed a lingering kiss to the detective’s lips, searching Hadleigh’s face for any changes. Work sometimes left strain about those eyes of his. Not often, but enough. Today, though, it was like looking up at a stormy sky. He so did love thunderstorms. He deepened the kiss for a moment  before gently pulling away, hands catching at Hadleigh’s and tugging him along. 

“Well, I’ll take what you can give, love. I want you to come up to the roof with me, for a little while.” Painter replied, a smile flickering over his face in varying levels of brightness. He had a surprise in store for Hadleigh, although to be fair, it was more a happy accident on his part. He was not good with plants, even though they made for wonderful medicines and art supplies. 

[potionpainter]

Knock KNock

..............

[erlkonigin]

“I am rarely who anyone is expecting,” Adelheid replied, more amused than put off. The forest whispered merrily around her, in a rare good mood. “Though if you told me who you were expecting, perhaps I could point you in the right direction.”

Perhaps she would, perhaps she wouldn’t. Fae were notorious for being capricious beings, after all. And though Adelheid liked to think she wasn’t quite as changeable as other fae, the odd tricky mood struck her. She didn’t know who this stranger was, to wander so purposely into her forest (not even on the paths, the silly creature), but Adelheid liked the way he felt. Or, more accurately, the forest didn’t hate the way he felt and that was enough for Adelheid.

She rose gracefully from between the immense tree trunks where she had been sitting, not even bothering to brush the dirt away from her legs or the leaves from her hair. Perhaps he was looking for the elven queen and such an appearance surprised him. Perhaps he was simply looking for another elf, and the oddly earthy appearance of Adelheid surprised him. It didn’t particularly matter to Adelheid, because here she was…

…And here he was.

Adelheid nodded to the bag the man carried, brows rising curiously. “No littering in the forest. What is it you have there?”

[potionpainter]

“I come seeking one who knows of the Witch of Riverside? She and I are old friends, and I have come, called to the service of a friend of a friend? I bear potions that might aid in the breaking of a form-bind hex. I was not told with whom I would be meeting, my lady.” Painter said, shifting his posture into one of tentative politeness and respect. They woman was clearly fey- Elven in a way that he was not used to seeing. Of an older sort of elf, certainly. A wilder sort of fey. 

The skin across the back of his neck crawled and he offered her a small bow. This was the last time he was going to let Michelle play with the vagaries of words. 

“I go by Painter, if that eases some confusion.” 

[theoblivionbrothers-archive]

"Will you marry me?" painter asks this quietly, almost inaudible.

Send me “Will you marry me?” and I’ll generate a number from 1-30 to see how my muse responds.

“You’re supposed to get down on one knee when you ask a question like that, you know.”

He might have been joking, but the dumb grin on his face was entirely genuine.

[potionpainter]

Painter ran a hand over his face, wings coming up and boxing around himself, looking all the world like prize winning Silkie chicken rather than the back-alley doctor that he was. 

“Yes, well, I wasn’t exactly planning to ask you. It just sort of... slipped out. I had-”  His voice cracked slightly as he looked down and to his left, staring at a crack in the ground. 

“I had a plan. It involved flowers and more preparation than... this. Gods, I don’t even have the ring with me right now, Tommy. I have- It’s.. it’s on the- gods I don’t-”  Painter huffed and pulled his wings in front of his face whilst making a frustrated noise into the palm of his hand.  

[theoblivionbrothers-archive]

❁ Painter gets sick ;D

Send me one prompt:

❁ in which our muses have to deal with a fever

“Leave it to you to get sick before me.”

Tommy laughed as he put his hand to Painter’s forehead, trying to judge the severity of the fever he’d been afflicted with. He had turned it into a joke, but that was broken up by the fact that he was wearing a paper face mask. Tommy had always been particularly sickly, and he didn’t feel like taking any chances.

“Do you need anything? Juice, maybe?” He ran his hand over Painter’s hair. “Your wish is my command.”

[potionpainter]

Painter let out a soft whine and pushes against the hand, wanting the feeling of fingers in his hair, then his brain catches up to his actions and he reluctantly pulls away, burrowing deeper into the bed. 

“For starters, I wish for this illness to go away. Barring that, perhaps some ginger tea and possibly to get your brother? I have a sneaking suspicion I caught this at the Goblin market with Michelle. You remember that, a few weeks back? She was returning an item som-” 

 A deep, wracking cough rattled through his frame, leaving him cursing that trip with Michelle. Never again. Never again was he wandering one of the lesser markets with that woman. She attracted more trouble now that she was a woman in her middle age than she ever had as a teenager. 

He was left wheezing in his small nest of blankets, wanting desperately to curl into Tommy’s side and just let the other man play with his hair in that soothing manner he did. 

[theoblivionbrothers-archive]

"Dad. Dad. Dad. Dad. Daddy. Dad. Daddyyyy." The small child whined, peering over the desk. She blew a few curls out of her eyes as she tried to see what Hadleigh was working. "Daddddd. Uncle Tommy an' Aunt Chell are causin' wha' Dad calls 'shenanigans'. He's not here so... Just wanted t' tell you cause there's some things that are smolderin' an really shouldn't."

Send me Anons as my muse’s child(ren).

“Is that so?”

Although it was the same set of words that most people would use to address a child they weren’t really listening to, Hadleigh sounded perfectly interested in what his daughter had to say. Of course, he was much less concerned with what Tommy and Michelle were doing than Painter might be, but for the sake of his lover’s sanity (and the sake of the furniture), it was probably best he intervene before Painter got home.

“Well, let’s go take care of that, shall we?” He rose from his desk and reached down, picking his daughter up and sitting her on his arm as he carried her out to the living room.

[theoblivionbrothers-archive]

"Smooch" from painter, for the eldest of the brothers.

Send “Smooch” for a reaction from my muse when yours give them a kiss on the lips.

“And what did I do to earn that?” His hands went automatically to Painter’s waist as he tilted his head down, his gaze settling somewhere along Painter’s collarbone.

“And what, pray tell, can I do to earn it again?”

[potionpainter]

Painter lets out a soft snort, his own hands reaching up to smooth Hadleigh’s collar down. They linger, tugging gently even though his partner is dressed as impeccably as ever. 

“Well, you could look up so I can see those pretty eyes of yours.” The artist teased, leaning forward to press a kiss against the corner of the detective’s mouth. 

                      “I haven’t seen you in a few days. If you have the time I can think of a few ways to earn some more kisses.” 

[shadesofblackness]

Anthony White