Oct 21, 2019
multimuse dumpster fire feat. DOCTOR MARTIN WHITLY of fox’s prodigal son + muses from fantastic beasts, the walking dead, marvel’s jessica jones, and more. salted on by glowstick.
seen from Türkiye
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Denmark
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Greece
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Maldives
seen from South Africa
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from China
seen from United States
multimuse dumpster fire feat. DOCTOR MARTIN WHITLY of fox’s prodigal son + muses from fantastic beasts, the walking dead, marvel’s jessica jones, and more. salted on by glowstick.
The Moon and her Dying Star...
Winter always knew there was a possibility that she was going to outlive her bondsmate. Even though he had been transformed, destined for her, he was still Midgardian by birth. And while his aging did slow down, it had not matched the pace of which the Demi-Goddess was aging. She was going to lose her Guardian, her Emmett.
But she hadn’t expected it as soon as it came.
Loki had managed to gather enough artifacts to gain the power to suck all of the realms into Oblivion. They had no choice but to find a magick that would reverse time its self…and Emmett so happened to wield such power. A magick that would bend fate in a way so Loki would never come to bring the end of the realms. A magick that would cause Emmett to forget her and she him…or that’s at least what she had told him.
The Moon Priestess knew that he would never agree to do it if it meant leaving her behind. He could handle, in a sense, losing her for the greater good but not leaving her. It was so hard for her to tell such a lie. But the source of the ritual all stemmed from her choice to fall in love with Loki and that meant that she would remember the world how it was while everyone else would remember it as it were to be.
It worked. And the world was safe but Winter’s heart was never quite the same…
She watched over him from afar. Saving him where she could, guiding him as she could. She risked destroying the realms themselves to watch him sleep during the blue moons. She wondered in this new timeline if he ever dreamt of her violet eyes that turned silver in the moonlight or if memories of their love making bled through. She wondered if he remembered not having the pacemaker and feeling vitality he had never experienced before. If in his dreams, he remembered them being happy together…
She wondered all of this as she watched him live such a lonely life, taking care of his daughter and eventual grandchildren while never remarrying or attempting to date again. She wondered this as she watched his chestnut hair start to grey and his laugh lines become more prominent. She wondered this as the months turned into years and the years became decades and his heart started to fail him as he always expected it.
He was stubborn though. Forever stubborn. And he truly wasn’t out for the count until his early 90s when he had his fourth heart attack that he just couldn’t come back from…
The Priestess waited until his daughter and grandchildren came to say their final goodbyes before she stepped into his bedroom. Of course, he chose to die in the comfort of his own home instead of the sterile walls of an unfamiliar hospital.
“Emmett Carver, mine own…” she whispered as he slept. She could feel the timeline’s energy quaking from being in such close proximity of him. “I hope you can forgive me as your soul leaves for Valhalla. I hope you can understand why I did what I did as you watch over your family and, hopefully, me in your next life.”
With that, he stirred. The whites of his eyes were tinged yellow but the amber orbs were still sharp and aware even though his body was failing him. “Who…are you?”
She could barely contain herself, wanting nothing more than to fling herself into his arms but she knew there wasn’t much time. “Figure me an angel, come to give ye yer well deserved peace,” she manages to get out, eyes glossy with unshed tears, before she bends down to press her lips tenderly to his own.
A wave of memories are transferred to him from her mind, telling him the story of the 10 years they spent together before their ultimate sacrifice. They were heavy with love, with need, with joy, and sadness that the world could not have given them a true eternity. Memories of her watching over him, of being proud of him rushing into his mind’s eye as well.
Winter Moon felt a gasp escape the older gentleman before his withered hand reached up to cup her cheek, returning the kiss with love and tenderness. She was just about to pull away, feeling the timeline about to snap when Emmett’s hand suddenly fell away from her and an eerie coldness was left in its wake.
The wail that left her soon after could only be described as someone dying a true death…
@dont-call-me-emmett
Alec Hardy // OPEN
who: Alec Hardy when: unknown where: police Interrogation room open to: anyone triggers: none image triggers: none blog: @goodcryunicorn2
“Ello, I am DI Hardy, I will be leading this investigation, you must be aware that this conversation is being recorded and that you have the right to a lawyer, so let’s start this easy yeah, what’s your name?”
like for a father’s day starter!!
@lonelybxstards @egyptroyal @themadvigilantist @definitemadman @chaosandblueeyes @shesxinxcharge
The Young Mother
16 year old Ruby sighed as she looks at the positive pregnancy tests that she took in the school bathroom. She sniffed as she now has to tell her foster father. But she first texts her boyfriend, who was the father of the unborn child. @dont-call-me-emmett
{Text to Glen} Hey I have to tell you something. Mind meeting up at your place? Or our usual spot?
Sleep
The idea of sleep wasn’t a very traditional one in the Carver-Moon household. Between the odd hours of a working lead detective and the sudden shifts of travel for a Demi-Goddess tasked with protecting the whole world, sleep was rare thing and often happened in odd places if at all.
Emmett was making his way up to his home when he noticed the light on in the kitchen. The scent of fresh baked goods wafting down the walkway before he even opened the door. The smile curving along his lips beaming as he can’t help to be excited about his beautiful bondsmate finally being home.
He didn’t even wait to get in the house before he was shooting off a text to Miller and Chief, letting them know that he was going to take a few days off to spend some quality time with his wife. Hurrying into the house, he yanked his jacket off and rounded the corner, ready to full on snog Winter. He wound up pausing in the doorway of the kitchen.
There she was, in nothing more than the black satin night slip he got her last Christmas, leaning against the open fridge door in a light snooze. Her mouth was agape and soft snores coming from her every once in a while; a jar of blackberry preserves that she had made herself that past spring clutched in her hand.
It was absolutely adorable.
He chuckled, which caused her to snap to and look around with wide, bushy eyes. “Oh, mine own,” she grins sleepily, coming over to him to place a somewhat passionate kiss against his lips. “I missed...missed you so...made some whole oat soda br...bread as I know you li-like it so.”
His heart skipped a few beats in his chest at just how adorable she was in her sleep deprived state. And even being bone tired, she still thought of him. She knew the bread was one of the few things he would eat if it was around. “And I you, mine own. But YOU need sleep. Go on. Head to the bed. I’ll make sure to tidy up and make sure the house doesn’t burn down,” he says, giving her bottom a gentle tap before leaning in to give her a proper kiss.
This, essentially, squashed any protest of ‘not being sleepy’ from the Irishwoman. Though, with the way her body curved into his own at the kiss and how her free hand raked gingerly through his hair as their lips got familiar with one another again, he was stating to doubt that there would be much sleeping at first once he followed her up.
This was confirmed when the image of her riding her slow and hard, her head falling back in pure pleasure was flushed into his mind’s eye; a gift from his bondsmate as her lips curved into a cheeky grin against his own. She pulls back from the eyes, still looking a bit bushy eyed but definitely more aware. “I have clotted cream going in the oven so don’t turn it off. Bread’s in the basket. Have a slice before you come up...I need you strong,” she murmurs, pulling away from him.
Setting the jar down on the table, she saunters passed him. That night slip riding higher and higher up her thighs, just barely giving him a hint of her bare bottom before she disappears out of sight.
He stood there for a moment, smirking to himself as he rolled up his sleeves and loosen the tie around his neck. The sooner the cleaning was done, the sooner sleep could happen after all...
@dont-call-me-emmett
Opposing Forces ~Closed w/ dont-call-me-emmett~
Even though the Interpol agent was use to going without sleep for an extended amount of time, she couldn’t quite help but feel like a slight fog had been cast over her mind as she parked her rental outside of the crime scene in question.
It had been a long flight from Dublin to the sleepy coastal of Gracepoint, even with taking one of her private jets. Then again, she had been chasing this crime syndicate down over several nations and while she was making progress, it frustrated her that things were still on going. Like a hydra, she cut off one head only for two more to grow in its place.
It had been a two years...
Looking over the wooden cabin, she thought long and hard as she looked over every officer standing around. The Irishwoman knew she was going to meet quite a bit of resistance among the group. Definitely not the ‘let strangers in’ type. But then there was one that caught her eye...
Now that’s interesting...not from the area yet...Standing off from the group but still controlling the scene to an extent. Definitely the authority here yet so distant from the group. They listen to him, even though they don’t want to. Impressed. That takes skill...
Dangerous that one...
I doubt it. This group isn’t too hard to control. Pressure at the right point and they would give. They know to respect someone who can do the job and he has apparently proven himself worthy enough to listen to.
That’s not what I was talking about...
On that note, Niccola finally cut the engine, raising an eyebrow at herself more than anything before she open the door and stepped out. She decided that neutrality was probably the best way to handle this investigation. She couldn’t rock the boat too much or else the majority of the task force would just make things harder and that would only lead to more death. This syndicate was dangerous and who knew how long that had burrowed in such a remote, unassuming area.
Walking up the pathway, she reached into the inner pocket of her plum Belstaff to flash her Interpol credentials at the officers posted to keep visitors off of the lot. “Hello, Niccola Thomas from Interpol. I was sent over to see if this might be part of a bigger crime spree happening on an international level. Could you point me to whose in charge?” she asked politely, choosing to suppress her Irish lit.
@dont-call-me-emmett
Exotic Tastes ~Closed w/ dont-call-me-emmett~
They bring the unconscious woman into the room, laying her down onto a table. Removing her robe, she is left naked before the potential buyers to look over.
“This one is a bit wild. Nothing a good fuckin’ and spankin’ can’t fixed. She untouched as well though to put her in her place we had to take the back way. No worries. My staff is regularly tested for diseases. A mix of different cultures, she has the rare gene for violet eyes and definitely the figure for men who like a bit of meat on their slaves. Bidding starts at 20,000!” the auctioneer exclaims.
@dont-call-me-emmett