Yay, I got the chance to color one of my new favorite villains, Angor Rot from the Dreamworks show Trollhunters. 8D As always it was a bit hard to figure out his colors from a 3D Modell (the colors always depends too much on the lights), but it made fun nonetheless, especially since I always wanted to color something from kusuarts. I enjoyed working on this a lot. x3
Pairing : Taehyung x Reader Genre : Fluff, smut, Hybrid!au Word count :
Warning : smut, demeaning names
“Yeah, that one is famous. Have fun with it.“
Taehyung seemed distracted with some coloring book you brought for him as he halfway nodded without a look at your direction. Lazily lying down on his side, the rug of the living room under him. His palm holding his head as one hand was mindfully coloring the drawing. His features were adorning a bored expression but you still assumed he was focused on what he was doing. The soft dim light of the lamp was bathing his face in an ethereal golden glow. With a smirk, you could not help but state, humming a little behind the counter.
“It seems you love that one.”
A teasing smile made its way to your lips as you took a deep breath, your hands busy with putting away the cutlery from the dishwasher. It was a nice cozy and quiet Friday evening among others. Your heart warmed up by the sole fact your dog hybrid ate all the food you prepared for him as your warm glance laid upon him. He was peering into your eyes from behind his long enthralling lashes, deep voice echoing around the living room.
“Yeah, I think these coloring books are fun. Truly, they are work of art, in a way.”
You cocked one brow at him as you put one clean plate on the counter, making your way to your dog busy with the coloring book you bought from the store on your way home the day before. A frown made its way to the silver-haired hybrid’s tan face as his contemplative eyes crossed yours.
“I guess that…”
The hybrid ended up his sentence in a whisper, his eyes flickering back to the page he was before busy coloring. He seemed absorbed by the coloring book as his hand roamed over the many color pencils. After all, you were best to know art bathed in his precise and creative being.
“Well, what do you mean by “famous?” These are strange looking characters. I mean…You don’t see people dressed like this everyday. Are they from the TV shows you talk about so much? Because if yes, I really wanna check that show. Their world must be truly interesting.”
bts reaction: they realize they’re in love with you (childhoodfriend!au)
Credit to gif owners~
He would’ve been eating at the restaurant with you, but you had already made plans with your friend and her boyfriend before hand. So there he was, eating alone, somewhat frustrated. The thoughts of you choosing to hang out with someone else–morever with a guy–swirled around his head, nearly making him dizzy. Though he continued to temporarily reassure himself by calling himself worldwide handsome, and you wouldn’t reject him because he was.
He took a drink of his water and out of the corner of his eye, noticed a couple happily eating together. Subconsciously, he imagined you and him in their place, holding each other’s hands, laughing, having the time of your lives—
‘Really?’ He laughed to himself out of disbelief. He put his hand out to lean his head against on. He almost laughed out the thought:
‘I’m in love with Y/N.’
Slamming his pen down out of frustration, Yoongi fell back against his chair and sighed deeply. The lyrics couldn’t make out in his head and nothing seemed to be working. He ruffled his hair angrily and picked up his pen to try writing again but nothing good formed. After a little while of forcing himself to come up with lyrics, he finally accepted the fact that nothing would come out at that rate, and closed his eyes, breathing in and out.
Suddenly, an image of you came up and Yoongi slowly opened his eyes to flip to a blank page in his notebook. With every thought of you formed lyrics with ease and he felt like he was in the zone. As he started writing the last line, he stopped midway at realizing what he was writing: And I love– “…What am I doing?” He moved his hand to the top of the page, ready to rip it out and erase what he had wrote, but just couldn’t do it. He leaned back against his chair once more and sighed.
“Ah…” he let out, “I love Y/N, don’t I…”
You and Hoseok were known as the inseparable duo that did 99% of the things together. Unfortunately, that changed when you said you needed to go back to the U.S for a week and a half as one of your family members are in the hospitable. Understanding, Hoseok knew things would be different, but not drastically. He didn’t think he would look for you at the shoots, knowing that you were gone. He didn’t think he would look at every girl with the same colored hair as you, thinking you returned without telling him. It drove him crazy.
He fell back on the bed, not having much energy to do things if you weren’t there. When he heard his phone go off, he stumbled to get it since he was going faster than his body can take. Seeing your name on the screen, he smiled widely and said, “hello?” As you were talking to him, his head was in the clouds, the energy coming back to him and a thought that appeared for a split second stood out to him the most: ‘I love her.’
He pursed his lips and thought about how true it could be. It was true that things were more fun with you around–you were able to keep up with his rather hyper self! After comparing the moments with and without you, he nodded to himself and thought more clearly this time:
‘Yeah, I love her. A lot.’
When asked to do a freestyle rap on Ask Us Anything, he started rapping in English about his fans. In his defense, because you also were an Army and the person close to him, it was natural for him to subconsciously start talking about you. But he wasn’t able to mentally defend himself when he started rapping about how amazing you were, from you appearance to your personality. The words came out so easily that he didn’t need to think about what to say next. In the inside, he was thankful the cast and members couldn’t understand any of the compliments about you, but it didn’t change the fact that he was slowly realizing how he felt.
Once he said the last line, he held his breath to prevent himself from saying his confession in English on national television. So once he was asked to give a message to Army’s all over the world, he thanked them for everything, and said, “I love you” to a certain person in mind to help give even more emotion and sincerity.
After many ‘cuts!’. for the sole purpose of helping get the emotion down, Jimin was told to sing as though he was singing to the person he loved when filming Serendipity. He pondered over how he would feel if there was such a person, but suddenly, you popped up in his mind. Before he could think more about why you appeared, the director played the music and Jimin got into place. He continued thinking about you, how you were there for him when he needed confidence and support, when he was starving himself and you told him to take care of his health, every moment with you.
His expression slowly became soft as he started lip syncing to the song. The most gentle yet powerful part for him was “my angel, my world” since he remembered the time he met you and realized how much he changed since that day. When the director called ‘cut’, his cheeks became red once he realized his true feelings:
‘I love Y/N.’
You attended one of their concerts without telling any of them, so when Taehyung saw you in the front row, he was delightfully surprised. The grin couldn’t leave his face–only when they were performing I NEED U for the emotion. He was already happy seeing you there, but you going along with the fan chants made him happier than possible. For the moment he didn’t see you because of a girl who was pushing your way, he almost stopped dancing but successfully repressed the urge and danced. There was an unsettling feeling but he decided it was just because his childhood friend was being pushed around like that.
The last song was finally going to be performed: For You, and when Taehyung’s part was coming up, he spared you a glance and saw you form a fist for ‘Fighting!’ With a large boxy smile, a certain feeling bubbled up inside him, but he didn’t care to think of it as he started singing the chorus. Whether he knew it or not, he was looking at you nearly the whole time he was singing and the feeling inside him whirled through every fiber of his being. He knew it and willingly accepted it:
I love you.
When you two finished a good game of Overwatch, you spun around in your chair and dragged a sigh while he looked at you confusedly. He continued to stare at you with question until you gave him an answer of what was up all of a sudden. “Hey, Jungkook.” you finally started. He hummed in reply and you stopped spinning to look at him. “I was asked out by one of my guy friends today.” He would be lying if he said the news didn’t surprise him since he thought he was the only one that knew about your charms. “He’s a good guy, so I’m thinking of saying yes. What do you think?”
“No,” He spat out, suddenly standing up sharply making you widen your eyes in surprise. The tone changed suddenly so you were caught off-guard as he followed up with, “You can’t date him.”
“Why?” You asked in pure confusion, your face showing more reason as he bit his lip. ‘Why’ was what he was asking himself too. He inhaled deeply and looked at you in the eyes as he paid no mind to what may occur after he says what his heart’s been wanting to say.
If someone does not want to accept all the colors and he thinks that a color is better and should have more rights than another, or that a rainbow is dangerous because it represents all the colors, the worse for him: this someone will be left without music
summary: sebastian stan x reader → he’s waiting for you to remember
author’s note: i took a chance on this one. it’s been in my drafts for awhile now and i’m just now posting it. it might be a little out of character, since i didn’t originally have anyone planned out for this. (sorry for any spelling or grammar errors) enjoy :)
This one was inspired by this gorgeous pic. I blame it fully for this drabble and its tooth-rotting fluff.
The garden had been a sanctuary for Azriel and Elain since the very start of their relationship, back when they had been nothing more than tentative friends thrown together in a time of need. But even then, Azriel had always enjoyed being able to sit on one of the many benches, wings out as he quietly watched Elain tend to the blooming flowers. It was a still, soothing peace – one that he had often yearned for in his long existence, but rarely attained. His friends were a rowdy bunch after all, and the world was forever a dangerous place; far too dangerous to allow him any measure of rest.
But Elain, lovely Elain… she could calm Azriel down like no other and yet could also set him all ablaze with a single touch. (She was shy and sweet, no doubt, but underneath all of that careful poise, underneath all of the ingrained manners and etiquette, was a fiercely passionate heart. She was truly a wondrous thing to behold, in every aspect of life.)
As their relationship progressed from friendship into something else entirely, they spent more and more of their time in the garden of the house she kept with her sisters. Azriel treasured the moments they had together amidst the carefully manicured plants… Like when he would be lounging on his usual bench, eyes closed against the bright sun, until Elain would suddenly be at his side, a small smile tugging at berry-colored lips. She’d settle softly next to him without out a word, her body half on top of his so they could both fit on the bench’s narrow iron frame.
There was just nothing quite like the sheer warmth of those moments. He hoped the memories of them would forever stay clear in his mind, that even decades, centuries from now, he would remember the feeling of Elain Archeron lying atop his chest, her head tucked into the crook of his neck as he ran his fingers through soft, soft hair.
The first time she’d done it, laid with him like that, she’d been so hesitant, afraid of making the wrong move, of scaring him off… afraid of asking for what she truly wanted after she’d had her heart so brutally broken. But when Azriel had opened his eyes to find her standing nervously in front of his bench, her hand half raised towards him, he had only reached out and tugged her onto him. He could bear her weight easily, and would gladly do so for as long as she wished. Elain, for her part, had worn a soft smile as she slowly relaxed into his body, her cheeks flushed with color. There was no embarrassment in her countenance, however, not with Azriel.
So, yes, their time in the garden was precious. It was a place so wholly peaceful that even Azriel, who lived the majority of his life wreathed in shadows, who greeted pain as an old friend, could not help but bask in it. It was also the only place that seemed to ease the visions that so often plagued Elain. Though it did not happen nearly as often as it once had, there were still days where her mind was so full of the threads of their futures that she could barely think. Days where Azriel could do nothing more than be there and listen to the soft murmurings of futures he could barely decipher, watching over the world around them as Elain’s eyes remained clouded and sightless.
There was nothing else he could do… but bring her into their favorite sanctuary. The peace of the garden helped to rein in her visions, the quiet buzz of life around them giving her strength. It was the familiarity, Azriel thought, that helped her most; the one tie apart from her sisters that she continued to have to her former mortal life.
Today was another bad day. Azriel had awoken to Elain’s feverish mutterings, had tried to calm her in his usual way (soft hands stroking down her sides, kisses pressed to her shoulders as he tried to bring her back into the present). When that didn’t work, he immediately wrapped a shawl around Elain’s shoulders (modest even in immortality, Azriel knew she be humiliated if she woke to find herself in nothing but her thin night gown) and spared a brief moment to pull on some pants, forgoing a shirt in his urgency. He lifted Elain gently, holding her tight to his bare chest as he walked them down into the ever-peaceful garden.
Instead of heading to their bench, however, he sat amidst the grass, Elain laying against him in the v of his legs. He knew that she would come back faster down here, amidst the product of all her hard work, the flowers rustling in a gentle breeze. So Azriel sat, keeping his arms around the seer as a reminder that he was there, but loose enough that she didn’t feel locked in. (It was hard for her, when her body was here with him, but her mind elsewhere. She was often panicked when she came back.)
Azriel sat and he did what he did best. He listened. His wings were a shelter around them, the riddles of Elain’s visions contained within as she muttered them to him. Azriel memorized them all, catalogued them for later. He was the spymaster after all, even on days like these.
Slowly, slowly he felt Elain return from wherever she’d been. He only relaxed fully when she crawled away from him though, her hands going into the flowers all around them. Her mind was still half in the future, eyes slightly glazed, but she kept her hands busy, using the task in front of her to regain control. Azriel watched as she methodically picked flowers, weaving them together with a kind of artistry that all of the Archeron sisters, even Nesta, seemed to possess.
He stayed carefully silent as he leaned back onto his elbows, his attention never wavering from Elain. She looked so heart-achingly beautiful in the dawn light, soft and gentle but with that innate strength of hers shining through as she slowly mastered her powers.
And then she finally, finally blinked. Her eyes were clear as they gazed at him. Blessedly lucid.
“There she is,” he said softly, proudly.
Elain immediately smiled, even through her exhaustion and pain. She crawled back into his embrace, wrapped loose arms around his shoulders as she ducked her forehead against his. Her eyes closed. “Hello,” she said, her voice filled with relief.
Azriel’s hand went under her hair to rest on the back of her neck. “Hello,” he responded in kind.
(There would be time to question her about the visions later. She deserved a little bit of peace first. She always did. Azriel would have given everything he had, if only he could continue to give Elain Archeron the peace she deserved.)
She shifted back a bit from him, her arms falling into her lap as she looked at the flowery creation she held in one hand. Her fingers trailed over the red and pink petals.
“What’s that?” he asked.
A mischievous glint lit in Elain’s tired eyes. “It’s for you.” She crooked a finger at him, gesturing for him to duck forward.
He did so. And then Elain reached up placed the flowers atop his head, hands almost benevolent as she settled them in his hair. Azriel blinked in surprise. A crown. She’d made him a crown. He felt something like heat fly to his cheeks.
“I’m not entirely sure a spy like me is fit to wear a crown,” Azriel finally managed to reply, sardonic.
Elain watched him for a moment, her fingers tracing over the whorls of the Illyrian tattoos that covered his shoulders. (Their design was unlike those of his brothers – these swirls looked like smoke and mist and shadow.) Finally, she looked up to meet his burning gaze. “You’re much more than just a spy, Azriel,” she said in a soft voice that left no room for argument. “And you deserve more than just a crown.”
He had to swallow past the emotion in his throat when she took one of his hands in hers, kissing the inside of his scarred palm without fear or revulsion.
“Regardless, I think something’s missing here,” Azriel told her after a pause, reaching out to pick a pretty white flower with his free hand. He put it gently behind her ear, tucking her hair around it. “There. Now we match.”
Elain responded with rosy cheeks and a smile… and then by throwing her arms around him again, pressing kisses to his jaw. She was always so beautifully tactile with him, especially after a vision. He buried his head in her neck for a long moment, wanting to just breathe her in. Her arms tightened around him at that, fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck. Azriel held on long enough to be surrounded by nothing but Elain, by her comforting scent.
When he reluctantly loosened his hold, she didn’t go far, only placing her forehead against his. This time she kept her eyes open though, and he would had to be blind not to see the love and adoration and want shining there.
“Hello,” he said again, his mouth mere inches from hers, his voice rough.
“Hello,” she replied, breathless.
Azriel’s eyes flicked down to her lips for the briefest moment. “I’m going to have to kiss you now.”
Elain smiled, a thing so bright it was almost painful. “If you insist.”
And he did. After all, how could he not? It was Elain.
What if Kylo Ren tries to contact the spirit of Darth Vader, but instead he gets Count Dooku (who is Not Amused with the quality of darksiders these days) and can't banish him?
Now, he’d had his suspicions about the “ancient Sith ritual” as soon as he read the part about needing blood, but desperate times and desperate measures and all that. Kylo Ren let himself drift into a deep meditation and soon – perhaps a little sooner than he was ready for, he was ashamed to admit – the apparition appeared.
But something was wrong.
This was most certainly not the hulking figure of Darth Vader, nor was it the smaller but still strong – save for that moment of deplorable weakness on the second Death Star – figure of Anakin Skywalker. No indeed, this was someone that Kylo Ren had never seen before in his life.
There stood before him *a tall old man, beard neatly trimmed to match a white moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single speck of color about him anywhere. He held in his hand an antique silver lamp, in which the flame burned without chimney or globe of any kind, throwing long quivering shadows as it flickered* as if in the path of some gust of wind.
“And what,” he said in a thunderous voice, “Pray tell, is this?”
Somewhat taken aback, Kylo cleared his throat and began, “I am Kylo Ren, master of the Knights of-” the apparition cut him off with an impatient gesture.
“I am well aware of who you are,” he said in a manner both courtly and contemptuous. “A long time have we watched this one,” he turned and spoke as if to the mists that surrounded them. “All his life has he looked away, to the past, to idolize some bizarre parody of a dead Sith who no longer warrants the name!” Turning then, he scowled at Ren, who found himself unusually disturbed by his very red eyes.
“I doubt, indeed, there was ever a moment when his mind was truly on where he was, and what he was doing! A practitioner of the Dark Side of the Force? You?” The man made a disgusted sound deep in his throat and waved his hand again. “In my day you would not have so much as been labeled “Dark Jedi”!”
“In…in your day?” Kylo asked, a little cautiously, “Will you tell me about your day, stranger?”
If anything, that seemed to enrage the spectre. “Stranger, says he? Stranger? To think there should come a day when a wielder of a lightsaber would not know Count Dooku when he saw him! But I suppose that knowledge was lost with the rise of Sidious.”
Oh. Oh. Kylo had a very vague memory of this name. His uncle had discovered a few old – barely functional – holocrons while poking around some archaeological sites on Coruscant. One had featured fencing tutorials with a “Master Dooku”. Uncle Luke had informed him, shortly afterwards, that the man had become an infamous Sith, though some of the records had been destroyed by the Empire. He’d evidently been someone quite important during the Clone Wars.
If memory served, Anakin Skywalker had killed him.
And now he was standing in front of Kylo Ren, and he was very very annoyed.
“On second thought,” he said, “I shouldn’t trouble you. I had no intention of disturbing your slumber, Count, don’t feel as though you’re bound to stay.”
“Oh no indeed, my young would-be acolyte,” the Count replied with a dangerous look, “I see that the legacy and reputation of the Sith is very much at stake! I should think I have some responsibility to the younger generation to see that our ways do not die out with your failure, no?”
Ah. lovely. Kylo wondered if Supreme Leader Snoke would have anything to say about this. He almost hoped not.