poisonousflowers



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    “I will marry you,” he declares. “But should any more harm come to my father or my people, I will raze the earth itself until I feel the lifeblood drain from your corpse and paint my skin with it.”

    It is not an idle warning, but from the princeling it has none of the desired effect. Derek feels no fear, but in this instance at least diplomacy triumphed over the spilling of more blood. It is all the same to him anyway. But Regent Peter was most insistent they avoid a drawn-out, gruelling war.

    “Then we have reached an accord.”

     

    Or the barbarian sterek war AU that nobody asked for.

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    13 Oct 2018

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    Pulling open his apartment door, he let out an involuntary shout when something was quite literally thrust into his chest hard enough to have him almost tip backwards. He managed to right himself while keeping hold of what had been shoved at him and looked up in time to see his neighbour striding back towards his apartment.

    “You’re going to fucking kill yourself.”

    His door slammed.

    Stiles blinked at the other man’s door, utterly confused, and looked down at what he was holding.

    It was a plastic bag, full of what felt like tupperware, which made no sense to Stiles because when had his neighbour broken into his house to steal his tupperware?

    (SNYE - January 11th - Neighbours)

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    24 Sep 2018

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    Derek didn't become a deep sea fisherman to make friends, but somehow that's exactly what's happened. Assuming, of course, that friendship is what's going on between him and the deeply irritating (and attractive) man he's managed to save. Surely they can last the few days 'till landfall without annoying each other to death... or falling into bed together. Right?

    OR

    Derek wasn’t entirely sure the survivor was alive when he heaved him aboard. Since spotting the lifeboat, Derek’s whole brain had been fully online, blasting panic, and even now the adrenaline made the world seem over-sharp. The man’s soft pink skin against the bright, plasticized red of his work suit seemed surreal; the length of his eyelashes jumped out, though they should have been unnoticable. The blood on his face didn’t seem to bode well for a happy ending. Neither did the way his head lolled on his neck, nor the uneven, shallow quality to his breathing.

    “Let’s get you below deck,” Derek muttered at the stranger, his voice scratchy with disuse.

    (Inspired by: this very lovely artwork)

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    15 May 2017

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    Peter's heard people talk about what it felt like when they saw their mate for the first time, from those who actually believe in the mystical bullshit. Like a magnet, like gravity. Peter just feels... sharply curious.

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    23 Jul 2016

    Bookmarker's Notes

    This was so good I'm screaming

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    Clark knew that ‘Bruce Wayne’ was an act, one that was decades-old, that smile, the clothes, even the way Bruce stood, slightly hunched, making his imposing height look less threatening. The blank look in his eyes, the limp handshake, the lazy guileless smile: they were all as much Bruce’s armour as his suit’s vambraces and cowl. Some days, though, watching Bruce work the rounds, Clark wasn’t entirely sure if Bruce himself remembered where the mask stopped and where the real Bruce bled in. The ballerina’s lipstick left a red smear on Bruce’s pristine white collar, and Bruce looked at it and laughed, delighted, drunken. Clark looked away, a sour clench in his gut. He was going to have to leave or something was going to break.

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    28 May 2016