#implied pairings

[rescuebabiesau]

Y'all see what I realized last night? XD

[gentlyquietly]

Colors 2

!!!!WARNING!!!! a little bit of NSFW down below.

The manor was a wonderful and diverse place, filled with all kinds of people. Joseph for one, loved observing and watching people of the manor interact with others. After all, he was a photographer. 

Whether they consciously hide it or not, Joseph can always see through them and see their true colors. Reading people was easy to him, it was as natural as breathing. 

He must admit, it was fun, and useful in games.

Naib Subedar was a righteous red, he never left others in games, even if he was hurt badly. Working with that information, Joseph could almost always down him before he gets to his teammate on the chair. Of course, Joseph made sure to never hurt any of the survivors too badly (mostly because he was tired of fighting that stupid english gentleman for ‘hurting his little mercenary’). 

Eli Clark was a dark purple, calm yet mysterious. Joseph didn’t like going against him because of a multitude of reasons, his owl blocked hits for him and that dragged the game on for longer, sometimes even turning the tide around. Another reason was because of the silent, yet intimidating stares he would get from the otherworldly being. Joseph would always huff after being warned silently, just because you have a lover doesn’t give you the right to public demonstration of affection (Joseph will never admit he’s just jealous they have a lover)!

Emily Dyer was a light beige, Joseph could see why she was one of the more popular survivors, with a caring personality and all. She was a very dependable teammate, and her healing ability makes her very hard to put on the chair. 

He could tell that Emma Woods, with her lively emerald green, was not as innocent as she looked, thinking back to that dark look she gave him in that one game after he chased Emily for the entire round...it wasn’t enough to intimidate him, but it was interesting enough that a survivor would try to scare a hunter. 

Everyone had their own unique color, and that was what made it so fun to photograph them...until he met Aesop Carl.

Aesop was different.

When he had first met Aesop he didn’t think much of him, unlike other survivors, he didn’t make a lot of noise when he was hit or downed. He was quiet, reserved.

What piqued Joseph’s interest, was when he placed Aesop on the chair. Joseph watched silently as the black liquid engulfed the petit figure on the chair, a small smirk appeared on his lips. This was new.

Aesop didn’t have a color. He was like a blank sheet of paper, waiting to be colored on. He was unconcerned with life and death, and Joseph had never seen any strong emotion cross his face. 

The next time he met Aesop, he twirled in a circle, indicating he would be friendly this round. At first, Aesop was suspicious, but then let his guard down and let Joseph get close. Joseph observed the young embalmer closely as he decoded the cipher. He didn’t notice how close he was until Aesop lightly called out to him.

“...Mr.Desaulniers, you’re a bit too close.” Soft, gentle words snapped him out of his trance. Joseph had blinked, then apologized quickly. 

Though his words were calm, Joseph noticed that Aesop’s ears were bright red, and his hands were shaking a bit.

He narrowed his blue eyes, raising his hand to his lips to contain his smile. It was then Joseph had decided. He wanted him.

He wanted to see all sorts of different expressions cross that neutral face of his, he wanted to see Aesop cry, to shout in pain, to laugh.

He wanted to see if Aesop would still act so unconcerned once he had him pinned to the bed, hands trailing down his slender figure, kissing his collar bone and leaving marks that would remind him who he belonged to. 

He wanted to see him cry as he begged underneath him, to see his face when he-

“Mr. Desaulniers?” Joseph looked down to the younger male, an apologetic smile on his face.

“Oh, pardon me, I seem to have spaced out. Please, call me Joseph.”

Aesop nodded, “Mr...er, Joseph, thank you for letting us go today.” Bowing slightly, he waved as Joseph watched him leave to the exit. 

Joseph stood there by himself, before he let the smile he contained for so long crawl up his lips. 

Ah...he wanted to see that white destroyed with all sorts of colors, till the original white was no where to be seen.

[strawberry-metal]

Day 15: Dolls

Original DA post: http://fav.me/dbr00ct

Cameo appearance from ocs, Shanna and Kazeko, with hinted Jotanna and Kazdol~

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Challenge: http://fav.me/dbp2kf3 I was originally gonna do something spooky, but then saw Kazeko's doll entry: http://fav.me/dbqqnmu  Think of this as a continuation of that, or something. XD Idk how to make everything not bold in this description. It's kind of annoying. -_- Anyway, I featured Kazeko's oc, Kaz here in the pic since she featured Shanna in hers. I couldn't decide who the last two should be, so I did a random generator thing, and I got Trish and Caesar as the last two. If that's not the weirdest combo ever--- Caesar is in the time out corner. Shanna doll makes a comeback in this pic. -w- Jolyne, Jotaro, Avdol, Kazeko, Joseph- you know what, all characters that aren't Shanna had their codes made by Kazeko. I just edited Jolyne's hair a bit. I made everyone small and fixed their parts that used belts. Shanna's code and her in general: Me. Background: http://fav.me/d89nepv  Gosh this room is perfect for little Jolyne~ Takeout: http://fav.me/d9dwjnc All I did in gimp was add a border.

[ratedt4t]

Fic: Y Melltith

so instead of working on the my Dragon age RP, the Dettlaff/Geralt fic for @itspusspeepers, or the Talion reborn as Boromir fic for @cyanidelemons, I stayed up late writing this then used my lunch break to upload. *sigh*

Ao3

“Back again, Geralt?” the man-shaped thing asks as Geralt takes the bench across from him at the inn in White Orchard. Geralt groans and manfully resists banging his head into the tabletop. O’Dimm’s eyes sparkle in fiendish delight and Geralt wonders once more how he ever could have mistaken the being before him for a vagrant merchant. “How far did you make it this time, I wonder? Skellige? Novigrad?” He pauses, smirks. “Crow’s Perch?”

Geralt snarls at him, startling Elsa just as she sets down their ales. He snatches a mug from her hand and quaffs half of it in one go as the woman skitters away warily. “Why do you even bother asking? Shouldn’t you know already?”

O’Dimm leans back, amusement writ plain on his face. “Ah, but if I knew everything this wouldn’t be half as much fun.”

“This is your fault,” he mutters back.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I had nothing to do with your little…predicament. And as you know, I-”

“You never lie, yeah, yeah,” Geralt cuts him off with a sigh. Every time they encounter each other, Geralt has tried to disprove that claim, but again and again his words prove their troth, though often in a twisted way that would make even a lover of riddles grimace. Geralt finishes his ale and grabs O’Dimm’s too. He makes no protest, smiling at Geralt with his hands folded under his chin.

“You could end this, you know. Quite easily, in fact.”

Geralt scoffs. “Sorry, but I don’t feel like trading in my soul for eternal torment.”

“But isn’t this it’s own form of torment? You witchers aren’t built to live as long as you have. It would be so much simpler to simply cut a deal with me.”

“See, that right there,” Geralt points at him, “that’s how I know whatever you’ve cooked up is a thousand times worse. Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll break this curse on my own.”

“You wound me,” O’Dimm rears back, hand on his chest where his heart would be if he had one. “And how is that working out for you so far? The Lodge has been useless every time you confide in your Merigold or Yennefer. Telling your daughter just makes everything worse, in the end. We could wager for something smaller – knowledge of where to start looking, or that elf’s firefly, perhaps?”

Geralt scowls at him deeply. The both know that O’Dimm has little to offer him in the way of knowledge – he’s bartered for it before – and doing things out of order usually end in the swifter, more painful death’s he’s experienced. Besides that, he knows his way through the damn mist blindfolded by now. Still… “I’ve beaten you before and I’ll win again.”

O’Dimm hums. “Granted, I’ve vastly underestimated you in the past. But the hundredth time’s the charm, wouldn’t you say?” When Geralt just keeps scowling, he shrugs. Geralt knows him well enough by now to see how practiced the motion is – how much effort O’Dimm puts into appearing as human as possible. But he sees more now than he has in past lives, how these human gestures fit him like a doublet stitched too tight at the collar, his eyes too sharp and empty to be natural.

O’Dimm takes a drink from the mug in his hand – Geralt doesn’t blink at its sudden appearance, his stolen mug still clasped in his own hands. “Tell me how you died this time. Did Eredin get a lucky swing in? Or did Emhyr lose his patience again and have you beheaded? That was an entertaining go-around.” Geralt twitches, unable to fight his grimace at the mention. “Hm, perhaps the Frost got to you. Oh, I know, a drowner! That would be embarrassing for a witcher with half a millennia under his belt.” In the face of Geralt’s continued reticence, O’Dimm’s gaze drifts over his face and down to his throat. Geralt doesn’t move away when he leans forward and brings up a calloused hand to rest at the edge of the scar left by the striga princess years ago. It’s a gesture so familiar that Geralt pays little mind to the attention they might garner as O’Dimm’s thumb strokes over the edge of the centuries-old wound to press at his carotid artery, even when he feels Vesemir’s gaze boring into his back. “What was it this time?” O’Dimm asks again when their eyes lock.

“One of the Hunt’s hounds,” Geralt says flatly, hands itching for silver when O’Dimm finally pulls back with a guffaw.

“Geralt of Rivia, the feared Butcher of Blaviken and father of the Savior of this Mortal Sphere, brought down by an icicled dog! That’s probably your most embarrassing defeat yet,” he laughs. Geralt keeps his mouth shut and valiantly doesn’t recall the time a harpy cornered him and he fell backwards off a cliff and broke his neck. If O’Dimm doesn’t know about that, he doesn’t want to bring it up just in case the man really does read minds.

O’Dimm quiets, and a nearly the same time the familiar murmurs of discontent over the Lilies rise behind Geralt. Eyes flutter past his shoulder before O’Dimm looks back to him. “Seems as though it’s nearly time to reunite with your heavily-perfumed lady love.”

Geralt sighs and stands, leaving the empty mug on the table as resignation fills his gut. It’s been years since he felt the need to seek Yennefer out immediately; even longer since the bone-aching desire to be near her was broken permanently. It seemed some enchantments, even those cast by djinn, couldn’t last through multiple resetting lifetimes. He says nothing as he turns to intercept the woman about to bang Elsa’s head against her own bar. He’s long past the need to draw a blade here – Vesemir eyes him sideways but says nothing as Geralt dispatches the ruffians with naught but practiced, bare hands and a few signs.

It’s as he’s pushing his way out the door that O’Dimm raises a mug in his direction. “Good luck on the path, witcher. May we meet once more under better circumstances!”

“Fuck off, Gaunter,” Geralt calls back, unable to muster any true ire in his tone as he steps out to meet his destiny. Again.

[light--reef]

[buckmebuchanan]

My favourite kind of fan fiction is when they have 'implied (the actual canon couple)' because it's like, I'm not saying they're together, and I'm not saying they're not together, but they're actually totally together and really everyone already accepts it but it's kind of ambiguous. 

[pjoslash-headcanons-blog]

Submitted by the-kcrs

[pjoslash-headcanons-blog]

Submitted by halestorm999