picture prompt meme;

[countofthree]

the picture prompt meme

— Comment with your character and any preferences.
— Others will leave a picture (or two, or three...)
— Reply to them with a setting or text thread based on the picture.
— Link to any pictures that are NSFW, please.
— Be aware that this meme will be image-heavy.

Comments

[enchains]

Bright, soft, pleasant. Pale. Whitened. Glistening.

He laughs as the first spears of sun fly brazenly across the distance, mists dispelling, the forest breathing new life as if mantled by a fairytale. It's — pretty like this, and Adam thinks he can hear the start of bird trills, the pitter-patter of mutinous squirrels.

Strange, how delicate Ronan's craftsmanship can be.

"Better," he decrees. For Adam's taste, which should be — not the afterthought, but certainly a more minimalist consideration. Adam doesn't fool himself about his place in the grand scheme of things, the likelihood of the next magical act of their lives involving his disappearance.

"Hey," he says over his shoulder, leaning obnoxiously into Ronan's hold to weigh him down. "Don't just make things for your boyfriend of the day. Show me your favorite place."

[perfectlycivil]

Adam will never be his boyfriend of the day. He's Ronan's first and some part of him thinks he'd be happy if Adam was his last, too. He smiles and braces himself as Adam leans into him. He could stay like this forever, right here.

He nuzzles Adam's neck, breathes him in.

"Okay."

Ronan releases Adam and runs his hand down his boyfriend's arm to catch his hand. He walks along the edge of the lake and finds another stream running into it. They follow that uphill: it's not arduous, but nothing in the dream is. The forest around them is alive with familiar bird sounds: cardinals, chickadees, wrens, bluebirds, doves, sparrows, woodpeckers. The kinds of birds they'd hear while tromping through forests and fields with Gansey. The kinds of birds that could be heard at the Barns.

And maybe one or two that've never been heard anywhere in the world.

When they reach the top of the rise, the forest opens out onto a field with a view of mountains. The Blue Ridge peaks that Ronan is so fond of.

[enchains]

Trust Ronan to go full out with bells, whistles and a show: the entire mountain crown, splayed neatly before them, Southern regalia at its glimmering deadliest. Adam's grin sparks broad and even, master of a universe custom tailored for his whims.

He leans into Ronan, arm cast generously over his boyfriend's shoulder, possessiveness a new but slowly learned edge to their relationship. He rubs his cheek against Ronan's arm. Holds himself steady.

"Your mind is full of wonder." And beauty and poetry and delight.

This is the boy Adam Parrish set his greedy sights on. This is the architect of heady sighs and tender nods, of worlds cast and painted in an ethereal corner.

"I like it," he says quietly, and wilts into Ronan's body, whispering secrets he should know better than to confide, even to this man and his magical mission. "I really like it."

The unnecessary Parrish blessing, hereby awarded.

[perfectlycivil]

Ronan turns his head to kiss the top of Adam's, lingering there as his boyfriend offers tender compliments and perhaps the highest praise of all: he likes it. Ronan can't help his smile and he wraps his arms around Adam again, bolstered by his approval--no, his delight.

Adam likes what he's created, he feels good here. This is something Ronan can give him, even if it only ever exists right here.

He tips Adam's head so they can kiss.

"We can come here whenever you want."

[enchains]

"I can't." Ronan might, but Adam's reliant on a good star alignment, a prayer and a hope — a magical invitation, because scrying is whimsier than Savannah Miles deciding her pick for the fourth-grade barn dance. He lucked into being here, skill a permanent question mark.

Adam can look, but not touch. Behold, appraise and covet, but never own. He can lean into Ronan again, a master and commanded by Ronan's creation and know himself and his purpose scattered.

He's a crutch, somehow, a band-aid. Not a prince. Never a requirement. He turns to kiss the side of Ronan's cheek and breathes out both stupor and satisfaction. "Thought you'd grow raven wings and start flying across the mountains. Lazy good-for-nothing."