#「 musings. 」 ⇀ gentle breeze ; withering leaves in the wind .

[finitevoid]

for your muse's consideration: Silver + 3. "The sameness of the trees in a forest at twilight, the feeling that they will never leave this place, and its beauty such that a part of them may not even want to." ♥️♥️

@hersilentlanguage

Silver isn't sure how he got here; all he remembers is the taste of the moist forest breeze on his tongue. It smells like soil after the rain, heavy and deep brown. The kind of soil your shoes sink into the longer you stand in it.

Silver's feet are sunk an inch into the mud. He's barefoot and it's almost too warm to be comfortable, but he left his shoes at home. Oh, of course.

Home. The little house at the edge of the woods full of warm candlelight and his father's laughter. He'd gone running, feet kicking off from the porch in search of some kind of wild game, like he was a child again. The breeze still tastes like the smell of freshly fallen rain, and the air is sticking to his skin and his hair.

The world around him feels technicolor, for all that it's not. The rapidly graying sky casts the world in a soft blue hue, like a painter ran a watered down brush over an already finished painting. Even he is bathed in it, pale skin turned a ghastly blue. Like a corpse.

Silver is different from the people around him. Minutes stretch on like hours, to him. His lifetime will be painted in glinting greys and blues long before his brother even has a hint of time on the horizon. There is a ticking clock inside of him, clicking endlessly onward. It ticks in tandem with his heart, ba-dump, ba-dump, counting the seconds, counting his breaths. Precious few he has.

Sometimes Malleus looks at him like he's already dead.

Around him is nothing but an endless sea of trees. They are all he can look at. The gentle ribbed lines of bark. The way the trunks twist and gnarl out into branches. The way the branches hang, ever suspended in air, leaves reaching out, out, towards the air. Towards the sun.

These trees are eternal, he decides. They will be here forever, roots dug deep into the soft, wet earth. Their branches will always be swaying in the breeze, dancing to music on the wind. Their leaves will always be reaching toward the sun. Its own ticking clock is halted halfway through its counting, frozen in time.

Even if one day they wither and die, they will always be like this, in his memory. Bathed in blue twilight, grappling for the last dregs of the day's sunlight. He stands in it's center. He's here, and now. But he's also a million years in the future, stardust on the wind, suspended in amber. In this place, he'll live forever.

The sunlight kisses his cheeks as it dies. The last wisps of it's glow disappears, sloughing off his skin and floating off into the wind. It's dark now, and soon the moon will begin it's own ascent, it's own blue-capped birth into the night sky. He clenches his fists, trying not to mourn the sunlight. Trying not to wish so desperately for it to be day again, and yet wishing time would not tick on in order to get there.

Someone is stepping into the clearing beside him. Black hair dipped in pink sways gently as he comes to a stop at Silver's shoulder. His hands are clasped behind his back, but he's smiling softly.

"I almost expected to find you dozing off."

His father's tone is joking, but his face is gentle. He has a gentle face, round and young. Large, wine-colored eyes that are crinkled at the sides by his smile. Childlike.

"Not this time," Silver murmurs. "Who could sleep through that sunset?"

"You know," his eyes are dancing. "Your brother used to, all the time."

Silver parts his lips in surprise. His father laughs.

"It's true! As soon as the sun would start setting, he'd nod off in my arms. It soothed him, I think."

"It doesn't soothe me." Silver huffs, turning to look up at the night sky, twinkling with stars. "So little daylight."

Lilia hums, and a comforting hand falls on his shoulder. He's watching the sky, too. The smattering of stars is reflected in his eyes, making them glint. It shows his age, marring it with the years not shown on his young face. The face of a man who'd seen things Silver would never be able to comprehend.

"If it was always day," he squeezes his shoulder. "we wouldn't appreciate the sunlight nearly as much, don't you think?"

#thank you thank you oh my god #letting me go absolutely wild on my reverse changeling silver bullshit #this was so much fun #i LOVE making anime characters existential as fuck #twst #twisted wonderland #silver twst #lilia vanrouge #my writing* #long post

[invictarre-archive]

Destruction and Rebirth - Leon Delarosa's Hisuian Spring Festival Performance.

POKEMON IN THE APPEAL. Charizard (Char)  /  Sunny Day, Mystical Fire, Will-O-Wisp Rhyperior (Pebble)  /  Dig, Rain Dance Dragapult (Trebuchet)  /  Surf, Dragon Darts Aegislash (Duel)  /  Stance Change ability  /  Iron Defense, Swords Dance Mr. Rime (Duke)  /  Dazzling Gleam, Charm, Blizzard

OTHER NOTES. Music: Waltz No. 2 by Dmitri Shostakovich Space-Time Distortion RNG outcome: Nat 20  😎

Leon has specifically chosen the driest, most barren terrain possible for his performance staging. His exact request had been for farmland that looks like it hadn’t seen water in a century, and Hisui had delivered just as perfectly as he’d hoped they would. The earth is caked with dried mud, cracked and kicking up clouds of dust with every slight breeze that passes by. There’s even some withered crops still planted firmly in the ground, wilted and with their curled leaves stubbornly clinging on.

Perfect.

Leon leads his first two performers out as the first notes of music begin to play, Char and Duke taking their places on opposite ends of the field.

Char moves first, crouching down on all fours and puffing out short bursts of Mystical Fire. The flames are much smaller than any he’d use to fight, spiralling through the air and catching on the withered plants embedded in the stage terrain. As he does this, however, his tail swirls around to his side and flares a bright white, soon releasing a move of its own: Will-O-Wisp. These flames come in a range of colours, everywhere from light blue to white to lilac, their cool tones mixing with the Mystical Fire’s warm and setting the dead crops alight in a rainbow of fire.

The attacks keep coming, each new pair of flames released in sharp one-two bursts on time with the music, spiralling across the field in bigger, more elaborate dances until they find the next thing to burn.

Once all the dead crops are ablaze, Duke makes his move, twirling and waving his arm to summon a light Blizzard. The snowflakes move quickly, mingling with the flames and shrinking the ones getting too excitable. This gentle weather mix keeps everything under control, the flames unable to be snuffed out by such little snowfall but equally unable to gain any leverage against its constant presence, and both pokemon take their leave to wait ioff to the side for their next cue.

Next out is Duel, who, at Leon’s nod, begins his Swords Dance. He weaves and bobs, each swing of his blade forcing the Blizzard to dissipate and the (now fully charred) plants to crumble into ash. His natural grace certainly adds to the beauty of this move muse, Leon has to admit. Without the need for speed or opponent intimidation, he can really appreciate how effortlessly Duel slices through the air, using the force of his own self-created gusts to remove his previous teammates’ attacks. It takes no time at all before the terrain is truly barren, all remnants of its past removed and lost to the wind.

Duel floats upwards at the same time as the telltale waves of Surf come lapping inwards, led by the ever-cheery Trebuchet. Though this is a move he’d only recently learned (and one Leon had spent countless hours practicing with him), the dragon guides the waves like he’d been born to do it, skimming his claws against the ground and letting the water soak into every inch. He leads the water around several times, filling every crack and clawing lines through the dirt to expose more of the cracked mud below, and only lets it sink in once he’s satisfied with his work.

The earth is clumped closer together now, no longer separated by the huge cracks that’d been scattered across its surface, and the dry sandy colour has transformed into a rich, dark brown. It’s already a magnificent change from before, and Leon beams up at Trebuchet, meeting the pokemon’s delighted hiss with an overjoyed laugh of his own. This is all going so well!

Trebuchet shoots his Dreepy out of his head like tiny Dragon Darts, letting the babies push holes into the soil with the same one-two pattern Char had been using. The Dreepy, for their part, seem rather happy with this change of scenery, and quickly return to Trebuchet each time, their tiny cries a demand for more of this treatment.

One-two.

One-two.

One-two.

Trebuchet continues his Dragon Darts until the entire terrain is covered in neatly spaced holes, each one made courtesy of the Dreepy hanging out of his head. With that settled, he floats off to hover somewhere behind the performance, content with having completed his work for the day.

Pebble is next up, the Rhyperior Digging into the dirt with a care most wouldn’t associate with a beast of a battler like her. She’d been ruthless in Leon’s Champion days, a steamroller of high attack and higher defense that even the most seasoned battler would find themselves struggling against, and yet here she is gently widening the holes the Dreepy had made with the most serene expression a Rhyperior could make. She was so entranced in her work, in fact, that she didn’t even notice the Space-Time Distortion opening up mid-performance.

Out pour a whole parade of Sudowoodo, no doubt confused and looking for a place to hide. Sensing an opportunity, Leon steps close to the parade leader and guides them, carefully, towards one of the holes Pebble had dutifully widened. This isn’t what he’d been anticipating, but… What better use for this new, freshly-prepared soil, than to provide a home for some pokemon in need? The Sudowoodo seemed to agree, if their hasty leap into the hole was any indication, and the rest of their parade soon followed. The few stragglers trail Pebble as she worked, even letting her pat down the soil around them and secure their new guests in the ground, and soon every unexpected Sudowoodo has found a place to settle and become part of a living forest on the performance floor.

Undeterred by this change of plans, Char flies in to join Duel above the terrain, moving into the next phase of his performance. His tail flame flares brighter once again as he launches into a beautiful Sunny Day, the ball of sunlight resting behind his head like a halo and spreading its rays across the stage. Some of the Sudowoodo jostle at the feeling of the warmth, twitching in their holes to stretch closer towards it, and the radiant light soon attracts a whole new plethora of unexpected guests: Cherrim.

A flurry of them comes rushing out of the Distortion, their petals flipping open to reveal the bright, excited faces of their Sunshine form as they bask in the rays. Some decide to climb up onto the scattered Sudowoodo, turning the normal tree-like appearances into something more akin to cherry-blossom trees. Others, less adventurous than their climbing peers, are happy to simply dance about in the sunshine, gathering underneath Char and bouncing from leg to leg as they smiled up at him. It’s… pretty cute, Leon had to admit. These Cherrim even have the kindness to keep their dance in time with the music playing, their stubby little bodies unaccustomed to waltzing but trying their best regardless.

Duel, apparently learning from Char’s example, takes it upon himself to coat both blade and shield in an elegant sheen of Iron Defense, the new reflectivity catching the sun rays and bouncing them around. His Stance Change ability activated with this, his shield snapping up into position and moving around the sunbeams even more. This delighted the Cherrim, who (attempted to) waltz their way over to these new spots of light, their petals fluttering excitedly as they did so.

Perhaps it’s their excited cheering that entices in their third and final guest: Hisuian Lilligant, stepping onto the floor with the most elegant movements Leon’s ever seen in a pokemon. She seems to almost float with every step she takes, never needing to correct her stance or second-guess a step.

It’s an honour to share his stage with her.

Duke taps his way through the Sudowoodo and Cherrim to meet her, bowing low with an extra added hint of Charm. He offers out his hand, which the Lilligant takes, and pulls her into a waltz that (unlike the Cherrim’s sweet attempts) is perfectly executed. Though a tap-dancer by nature, Duke is a gentleman of many talents, and he has no problems steering them around and through the dappled sunlight. Petals burst from the floor wherever Lilligant steps, tiny explosions of colour blooming all across the soil and covering the dirt below as she releases Petal Dance after Petal Dance, and Duke matches her enthusiasm with a Dazzling Gleam. The flash of light envelops them both, glittering with every colour imaginable and sparkling downwards to draw people’s attention to the steadily-growing petal carpet spreading across the terrainand impressively coordinated footwork of the waltzing pair.

Just as rehearsed, Pebble ends the performance with a Rain Dance as the music reaches its final stretch, the light drizzle mixing with the Sunny Day to create a rainbow, stretching across the width of the terrain as Duke and Lilligant’s dance comes to an end.

This was not what Leon had prepared for, and yet… It all feels right.

A barren, dried up landscape, transformed by his pokemon’s efforts and now blossoming into a pokemon-filled flower forest, complete with the illusion of some cherry-blossom Sudowoodo. It’s beyond anything he could have achieved on his own, even with his beloved pokemon here to assist, and yet he imagines such an outcome couldn’t have existed without his team first helping to lay the groundwork. Sudowoodo couldn’t take root in dried, withered ground, after all!

This had been a team effort, for sure. A perfect, if accidental, collaboration between Galar and Hisui.

His smile is brilliant as he bows, all of his pokemon following suit and doing the same. Even the Lilligant joins in, one of her leaf arms resting delicately in Duke’s hand.

                   ❝  Excellently done, everyone,  ❞ Leon says, glancing over towards the Space-Time Distortion as he does.

A perfect collaboration, indeed.

#hsf2k22appeals #it's our time to shoot for the stars; and we're not gonna stop until the world is ours | in character.

[poetryforabrokenheart]

Nature’s Muse

When did I stop falling in love?

When did the sunset seem so fake?

And the moon so dull?

When did the world loose its beauty on me?

Was it you?

Was it your smile that lit up the stars?

Your eyes that painted the land before me?

Its easier to blame you

Than to accept that I have simply reached my end

Its easier to you to leave me

When you were all I had

Oh woe is me....

how pitiful

how pathetic

I could let you ruin me

I could let you ruin the beauty I worked so hard to find

But I refuse

I will find a new muse

It will take me days

Weeks

Months

Years

But I will find them

I will find someone who respects my time

Respects my visions

Someone who loves my colorful oranges and burnt umbers

Someone who will sit with me in a field of cobalt and thunderhead

My muse will be the thundering clouds and breezing winds

They will be my stars and soil

The shedding fur falling in the windowlight

The chirping birds and whining cats

The growl of anger and gentle touch of compassion

I will find this beauty one day

And they will be extraordinary

They will know not any difference in my sunset

But the difference of their prescence

They will see my blades of grass in the breeze and the rotting oak crackling in the embers

Their smile will outshine the sun

And overshadow every scrap of humanity you rooted inside me

My muse...

Beautiful and Bright

Dead and Withered

Past and Future

But no Present

Not yet

Not now

When all I can think of is how beautiful the colors on my canvas once were

#poetry #prose #writing #dark poetry #lovely poetry #poems #original poetry #poetic #poetryforabrokenheart #love poem #dark poem #sad poems #sad poetry

[rebelliousties]

// tag dump

#「 ooc. 」 ⇀ whispers in the wind . #「 ic. 」 ⇀ alone I walk the winding way ; here I stay . #「 ask. 」 ⇀ and I shall write ; words for you alone . #「 meme. 」 ⇀ as you fight among the death beneath the dirt . #「 open. 」 ⇀ all is lost again ; but I'm not giving in . #「 call. 」 ⇀ along the path we lost our way . #「 queue. 」 ⇀ afternoon rest . #「 musings. 」 ⇀ gentle breeze ; withering leaves in the wind . #「 save. 」 ⇀ legends never die ; they’re written down in eternity . #「 promo. 」 ⇀ save this selfish world . #「 self promo. 」 ⇀ a tide of war and broken dreams . #「 main. 」 ⇀ take the path that leads to nowhere . #「 Kazuha. 」 ⇀ the night beckons while you dream . #「 hc. 」 ⇀ to the days long gone . #「 dash comment. 」 ⇀ everything is not daijobu . #「 crack. 」 ⇀ all according to keikaku ( keikaku means plan ) . #「 art. 」 ⇀ for the eternal beauty of the world .

[seacottons]

reaper ; — k.hj x reader

pairing: hongjoong x reader, platonic wooyoung x reader

wc: 5k

notes: i guess this is horror? pft. idk. mild violence. set in the late 80s? early 90s? technology isn't prevalent here so- yeah. probably needs to be proofread but i'm too sleepy as of now. maybe tomorrow. also, happy hongjoong day 🤍

synopsis: after an accident leaves three of your friends dead and one in a coma, you and wooyoung struggle with living expenses and piling medical bills. in the midst of it all, you’re stalked by strangers who resemble your deceased friends.

"Bad day at the tavern, Woo?" You asked, arms wrapping around the black-haired man who stood over the stovetop. A gentle fire simmered the stew he was cooking, a thin sheen of oil and spices pooling on the surface. He nodded with a grim frown and tight jaw, shoulders tense as he stirred a ladle into the pot.

"Got in a fight with some asshole who thought he didn't have to pay for shit," he grumbled back. You frowned at the sight of a bruise on his jaw, and he caught your gaze before scoffing incredulously.

"Don't look at me like that. This is nothing," he quipped hastily, voice thin with resignation.

"I think I have some leftover ointment for that," you sighed, turning away to fetch the item. After dinner, the two of you sat in silence as you tended to his bruises and cuts, your brows furrowing into a glare as you wrapped his finger with scraps of linen you managed to find," You should be more careful with people like that."

"We need the money," he retorted gently, "Mr. Lee would've taken it out of my paycheck if I had let the guy go without paying."

"At the expense of you getting hurt?" He ignored the glare you sent his way.

"We need every silver coin and more right now, y/n," he exhaled softly, leaning back against the old headboard of your bed, "Yeosang's medical bills aren't getting cheaper, and we promised the landlord we'll pay her this month." He groaned, reaching up to massage his temple with a tight frown, "And I can't keep making you work two shifts every day. I see the toll it's having on you."

"I told you I'm fine," you gave him a hard stare, defensively crossing your arms above your chest, "We both work overtime, so it won't be fair of me to just throw all the responsibility on you."

He gave you a tired smile, eyes fluttering shut as he hummed back a reply. Bringing you into his arms, he placed a gentle kiss onto your temple, before cradling your head against his chest while laying down, "I'll always be grateful to still have you with me."

Wooyoung sleeping in your bed alongside you became a silent agreement of some sort months ago when he couldn't bear to sleep alone in the other room he and Yeosang shared. Since then, the two of you found comfort in each other's arms, so much so that it became difficult to sleep without the warmth of his arms wrapped securely around your frame every night.

You sat in a comfortable silence, eyes closed as you relaxed back in your seat while holding Yeosang's delicate hand. The occasional beep of the IV machine and other monitors filled the air of the small room. You peek one eye open to look at Wooyoung, his back turned to you as he gazes out of the window. Neither of you speak for a while.

"You really think the doctor's words are guaranteed? That he'll wake up soon?"

You watched from your spot as Wooyoung leaned over the blonde-haired male, his hands brushing the hair away from his closed eyes. He appeared to be in a very deep and peaceful slumber.

"Yeah. I'm sure–.. I know he will. Things will get better for all of us," he drawled out tiredly, a soft smile finding itself onto his visage as he turned to gaze at your hand grasping Yeosang's limp one, eyes puffy from his crying session last night, "I know it."

An hour later, a nurse peeks her head in to politely state that you two have exceeded your visiting time. The two of you bid your friend farewell and left the hospital.

"I'm actually going to run by the cemetery real quick before my shift starts," you explained while walking down the road with the other by your side, half frozen autumn leaves crunching beneath your boots.

Wooyoung pulled you into a tight hug, hand reaching up to tussle your locks, "Alright, please be careful. I'll see you later, alright?," he readjusted the scarf around your neck with his gloved hands, "We'll have fried fish tonight, your favorite. Don't overwork yourself at work again!"

Tears nearly welled in your eyes, knowing fully well behind his cheerful demeanor hid a scared and tired being. The unspeakable pain behind his eyes killed you on the inside. He overworked himself both physically and mentally, and you can only wish you can rid some of the burden off of his shoulders.

You were just as hurt by the circumstances that the both of you were in, but watching his mental health erode with each day was A lump formed in your throat, and instead of replying, you merely flashed him a smile, not trusting your voice.

You pressed a quick peck to his cheek only to laugh as he flinched away from your freezing lips, your laughter escaping as puffs of white in the frigid air. You bid him farewell and waved back as the two of you separated.

The low mist enshrouding the cemetery did very little to bring warmth in the early hours of the morning. Your hands absentmindedly brushed along the dew covered grass as your eyes fixated onto the inscription on one of the three tombstones.

Where there are flowers, there are butterflies.

"It's your birthday next month, Joong," you muse to the grave in front of you, "I'll make sure to spend the day here with you and the others when the time comes."

You adjusted your position on the grass, the gentle beams of sunlight sparkling in the beads of dew around you. Sitting cross legged, you reminisced the times you spent with the male and the other two friends that shared his fate.

"Wait— how come you get to be the flower? You should be the butterfly instead," you whined whilst poking his cheek.

With a playful quirk of his brow, he reached up to lightly flick your forehead before pulling you closer for a gentle kiss, "You're the butterfly, because you always bug me, baby."

You smiled to yourself at the memory, reaching down to admire the various flowers that have finally bloomed on Hongjoong's grave. Similar blossoms and flowering vines were planted and grown onto the other two graves to the right.

"I miss you so much."

You startled at the sight of a small butterfly fluttering over your head, only to smile once it landed on the purple blossom. You stilled your frame in fear of scaring it off, and watched as it flapped its blue wings subtly.

A small lizard peeked through the gaps of leaves, sharply and swiftly clamping its mouth onto the butterfly. It struggled to keep the bug in its mouth, its head shaking rapidly as the insect wriggled in its hold. Moments later, the bug stilled and the lizard scampered off with its prey.

You stood up, shoulders slumping as you gave the three graves a smile and a wave, "See you guys tomorrow. I love you."

You tightened the sweater around your frame as you made yourself out the gates of the cemetery, sighing in annoyance at the lingering and dense fog. It was difficult to even make out the next tree as you made your way back to town. You faintly hear the sound of a crow's caw in the distance and peer down onto the ground as you feel a tremor beneath your feet. Your head snapped up in time to have a large vehicle's headlights reflect in your wide eyes.

You somehow couldn't quite grasp what day it was, or even what happened at work earlier. Your head spun as if you had just awoken from a drunken stupor.

The sun had set and the moonlight washed the town with a silvery blue hue. Flames flickered within the numerous lampposts and pebbles crunched beneath your feet as you walked through the familiar cobblestone path back home. The streets were deserted. Many buildings were left with shattered windows, small plants and moss growing in the most delicate fissures on their walls. Plastered advertisements and papers on the walls and lampposts looked withered and aged, drooping forward and swaying with the gentle breeze. It was quite an odd sight to see. The once boisterous town strangely felt like a ghost town.

You shrugged off the ominous feeling growing in the pit of your stomach as you trudged along back home.

Along the way, you crossed the hospital where Yeosang was kept. You peeked back to glance at the building, your eyes immediately catching sight of a figure who stood behind a third story window. Furrowing your brows, you turned around to continue walking, the sight of the stranger leaving a bitter feeling in your heart.

The male had the same patch of silver hair as—

Suddenly, your feet came to a halt and you turned back frantically, but the figure was gone. In its place, the blue curtain of Yeosang's room swayed gently with the wind.

Shaking your head, you continued your path whilst rubbing your tired eyes.

"I probably just had a long day," you explained to nobody.

In the distance, there crouched a dark figure, his hands caressing the top of a stray cat's head. You met eyes with the stranger moments later, and you paused in your tracks, your heart dropping down to the floor and leaping into your throat almost simultaneously.

"San?" the figure's lips stretched into a wide grin at your acknowledgement, before he stood up straight to face you. Your legs shook and threatened to give under the sudden weight of your body, "San? Is that really you?"

"Long time no see, y/n."

He silently nodded, arm extending to beckon you forward with a small smile. You took a small step forward, brows furrowing in confusion, "But this can't be you. You're dead."

"Your eyesight is still horrible, I see," he drawled out with a roll of his eyes. You stood inches away from him, eyes widening in disbelief. He sounded like and resembled your late friend with a terrifying accuracy. With a trembling hand you reached forward to cup his cheek, eyes glassy with unshed tears.

"You're..," you trailed off, eyes briefly glancing to your right at the reflection of the store glass window. Your reflection grasped at nothing but thin air, and you quickly retracted your hand from his face, eyes wide, "You're not real, are you?"

In an instant, the bright smile vanished and his gaze hardened into a dark expression. He silently bore holes into your head as a gentle breeze swayed his ebony and silver locks over his eyes. You took two hesitant steps back, and a blur of black flew towards you at an inhumane pace, your back roughly slamming onto the cobblestones underneath you.

Your brain scrambled to process what had just happened, eyes widening as San gripped your two wrists above your head with one hand, the other reaching down to wrap his lithe fingers around the column of your neck to squeeze hard. You released a pained cry, face contorting into a harsh wince. The heel of his palm dug painfully in the middle of your clavicles.

With eyes wide as saucers, you frantically kicked at your heels, hitting his frame repeatedly in an attempt to escape his clutches. Your attempt was futile as he released a growl, eyes practically slits as he seethed down at you, his grip tightening at an unbelievable level.

You wheezed, mouth falling open as you choked out his name, before furiously and blindingly sending a stomp onto his crotch repeatedly, your other leg jutting high to kick at his shoulder. It loosened his grip just enough for you to wriggle away, knees buckling as you attempted to stand up, heels kicking at the floor as you scrambled up, desperately trying to create as much distance as possible.

His eyes spoke of unfathomable fury as he regained his composure, taking two big strides to reach you.

Hastily rising to your feet, you dove in an alleyway and into the dark, mind not even processing your whereabouts as you quickly attempted to flee.

Your mind was in shambles as you ducked past clothes lines and the multiple abandoned carts near one of the taverns by the tea shop you worked at.

Turning around another corner, you collided with a strong chest, and you stumbled back at the sight of San's dark eyes peering down at you with a miffed expression. You gasped, face draining of color and chest heaving as you stumbled back and away from him. His chest rose with heavy breathing, brows knitted together furiously as he scurried after you.

"Y/n, y/n," he tsked in amusement, voice chiming like he was singing a song, "Come back, I just want to talk!"

Minutes later, the sound of his heavy footsteps ceased, but you did not have the time or courage to look back to see if he was still following you. You scrambled through dark alleyways, turning around every other corner, heart beating frantically in your ears and weak legs threatening to give way under your weight.

Tears prickled your eyes, and a sob threatened to escape your throat as you practically threw yourself against the frame of your door, fingers frantically reaching down to pull out the key from your pouch. From the corner of your eye, you spotted San madly dashing out from an alleyway to reach you, his voice growling out your name.

"Why are you running away?" He mocked, brows quirking up, "I thought we were good friends?"

Your trembling hands scrambled to unlock your door, hastily clambering in and throwing your entire weight to close it shut. A heavy weight from the other side thudded against the wooden frame, and your hands shook whilst reaching up to slide the chain into place. A loud gasp left your lips as the door jerked open slightly, the thin chain straining under the weight that threatened to break it.

"I'm hurt, y/n," a laugh escaped the man from the other side as he lodged his foot in between to keep the door ajar, voice rising as he attempted to shove himself in once more, "Don't you miss me?"

"Leave me alone!"

A hand shot from the gap of the door to clamp around the chain, rattling it viciously, as his other arm bent at an awkward angle to coil his fingers around the side of your neck, "Come out, y/n. I just want to talk," he chimed.

A sudden surge of strength overtook your frame and you threw your weight forward, successfully ramming the door shut against his arms. You expected to hear a cry of pain, but a chime of laughter sent a chill down your spine. With furrowed brows, you repeated the action, slamming the door continuously onto his hands and fingers, the sounds of bones and tendons snapping making you cry out in anguish.

Your hands trembled as you quickly locked the door with the key, stumbling back onto the floor as the knob shook threateningly. The door and chain rattled under the heavy kicks the male delivered from the other side, The impact of his frame against the other side shaking the door slightly. You fell onto your bottom, wobbly knees finally giving in, hands clutching your gaping mouth, and tears silently streaming down your face. You can practically feel the smile in his words, "It's okay. You'll come out eventually."

The dark shadow of his figure disappeared moments later.

When you woke, you weren't exactly sure when or how you fell asleep. You couldn't quite grasp the memories of the night prior. Sitting up, you emit a disoriented groan before realizing you weren't in your bedroom, but rather in the waiting room in the hospital Yeosang resided in. Peering around in confusion, you took account of the night sky, brows furrowing as you scrambled to find the nearest clock. It was well past midnight and visitors weren't even allowed at this ungodly hour.

The room was vacant, and you couldn't make out any figures of the receptionists through the pebbled sliding-windows. Your hand grasped the doorknob of the entrance door, only for you to sigh in frustration after finding it locked. You turn to the other side of the room only to find the door to the main halls of the ICU left ajar ever so slightly.

You called for any doctor or nurse, but you were met with silence. After much contemplating, you decided to make your way through the long corridors of the hospital, your steps reverberating throughout the empty halls. Where are the attendants, and why is a place like the ICU empty?

If you were stuck in here, you might as well stay in your friend's room. The lights from the mounted sconces petered out against the wall and casted the hallway with a warm glow.

After much turning and walking, you reached the end of the hall, hand reaching for the doorknob when the hallway lights wavered for a second. You peered to the side in confusion, before entering the room, only to stop after a step.

The room was empty, the sheets on the bed untouched and perfectly made. A hiss of air from the corridor startled you, and just as you snapped your head back, the lightbulb above you flickered rapidly before it shattered along with the windows, showering your shocked form with glass shards.

The room was engulfed in darkness, save for the streaks of moonlight filtering past the curtains. You jostled up from where you fell from shock, legs feeling useless as you crawled back out of the room with trembling limbs. Not wanting to look back, you clutched the wall for support before hastily speeding through the endless turns of the hallway.

Corner after corner, panic settled through your system because these were definitely not the same hallway layouts you remembered and memorized like the back of your hand. They were endless and vacant, and you felt like a helpless little mouse in a vast maze. As you quickened your pace into a panicked dash, the windows and light sconces on the wall flickered and shattered with every step you took, and you hastily covered your head and face from the flying glass.

This isn't real, you thought. It can't be real.

"Y/n!"

You froze in your spot, breath caught in your throat as you clamped a hand over your mouth to swallow back a scream threatening to slip past your lips. Did you hear correctly, or was that part of your imagination?

"Y/n," the familiar voice spoke once more.

Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you daringly poked your head from the corner and into the other hallway. Blood pounded past your ears, and it took more than a second to realize there was a figure of a man at the end of the very long and dark corridor.

He took a step forward and the soft moonlight pouring from the window beside him illuminated his figure, and your breath faltered at the sight of the man's smiling face.

"Seonghwa?"

"What are you running away from, y/n?"

You couldn't properly form a reply at his remark, hands reaching up to rub at your tear pricked eyes. A sob bubbled its way up to escape your throat at the sight of your late friend who merely chuckled at your tears.

"Missed me that much, hm?" he mused, shoulders shaking with an amused chortle, "Why don't you come here and give me hug? You know I don't like seeing you cry."

You couldn't help it as a gnawing feeling of unrest settled in the pit of your stomach. A shudder traveled down your spine, goosebumps decorating your arms, and hair standing on the back of your neck. Your mind couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was that had you so disturbed, but your body displayed all the signs. His tone felt off, and you realize he's playing with you. Toying with you. A small distant voice in your head told you to get away.

A sudden thought found its ways into your mind.

Where was his shadow?

Sensing your hesitation, the friendly expression on his face soon dropped, making way for a stone-cold frown and unamused eyes.

"Y/n."

His cold voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you take a hesitant step back, words slipping out before you even processed them, "I know you're not real."

The feral look that overtakes his expression has you reeling back, and you took off running in the opposite direction. Glass crunches beneath your shoes as you dashed from corridor to corridor, lungs burning and muscles aching from the rush of adrenaline. He called for you repeatedly, and you didn't dare turn back to see how far he's caught up with you. With every turn, his voice grew louder and closer, before a flash of black sends you flying back onto the floor. Your body skids onto the ground, shards of glass pricking at your skin. With a rush of adrenaline fueling your system, you hardly wince as you scrambled back from the towering figure, glass piercing your skin in the process.

You feel an excruciating burst of pain in your foot, and before you had the opportunity to pull your leg back, he slams his foot down onto your ankle once more, grinding the joint roughly with his boot. A loud cry of pain escapes your throat and you to struggle wildly to escape his unrelenting grip.

You glance up and through your tears, you make out the gleam of a large piece of glass in Seonghwa's hands, his threatening, blown out pupils pinning you down like trapped prey. Turning the large shard in his hand to examine it, he hums sarcastically before peering down at you with a quirked brow, "You know, I'm offended." Kneeling down to your level, he traces your cheek with a glass, watching your skin split at the action and beads of blood oozing out from the scratch, "And here I thought we were such good, close friends."

Without missing a beat, your hands flew to grasp the shard, roughly ripping it into the soft tissue of his eye and slipping past his frame to stagger to the nearest broken window. You hear a groan from behind you as he doubles over in shock, blood overflowing from his ruptured eye and spilling down his scowling face. Pain surged with every step you took, but if this was your only option to escape, you think maybe the idea of couple of broken bones doesn't sound too bad.

Hastily, you stepped over the windowsill, your arms and legs catching on the jagged teeth of glass remaining, your clothes tearing in the process. You took a sharp inhale before curiously taking a look back at Seonghwa one last time. The sight of him lunging after you has you falling forward and out of the window. It felt as if gravity had slowed the pace of your fall, and you held eye contact with Seonghwa as your frame descended down from the third story floor. Darkness fogged your eyesight, his figure vanishing within the black abyss.

The impact hit you like a truck, and you sat up with a loud intake of breath on your warm bed. Your chest heaved heavily as you took in your surroundings. You suddenly realize you're in Wooyoung and Yeosang's shared room that hasn't been occupied in months. Your eyes fall onto your feet, and your brows furrow in confusion as a sudden thought invades your head.

You faintly remember your ankle being crushed, but it seemed to feel just fine now. When you attempted to recall why you thought it had been broken, it felt like your mind was searching for a forgotten and fragmented memory. After calming your breathing and thoughts, you sit up to go and find your friend.

You called Wooyoung's name repeatedly, but the silence you were met with indicated he wasn't home.

Peering into your room, you hoped to find him sleeping, however your eyes landed on the wall, the sight of messily painted words catching your attention almost immediately.

Where there are flowers, there are butterflies.

Painted flowers and butterflies littered the wall, the excess ink dripping down into lines onto the wooden floorboards.

"Do you like it?"

You jumped at the voice behind you, swiftly turning around to meet the sight of a familiar head of blue hair. You stood there, mouth agape as you silently stared long and hard at the man that once held and loved you in his arms. A long silence followed suit, hanging in the air like the calm before a storm. A breeze hardly stirred from the open window and not a sound could be heard save for the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

The forbidding, subtle grin displayed on his features filled you with dread, and the mere sight of him gave your brain a debilitating shock. Your knees couldn't hold your weight any longer, and with buckling limbs, you were sent crashing down onto the floor, the look of disbelief and horror never leaving your expression.

You stared at him but it felt like you couldn't quite focus your gaze on him as he peered down at you in mock pity, a condescending smile playing on his lips. His dark gaze seared you as he crouched down to meet your eye level, hand reaching to cup your cheek as he leaned in to press numerous kisses onto your lips. The gesture was void of the warmth and care you remembered, and you sat still as he trailed fleeting kisses down your the column of your neck, his lips attaching fervently onto your clavicles.

"I missed you so much," you began, catching his attention. Pulling away from your irritated flesh, he quirked his brows at your words, hands brushing the hair out of your face as he let out a chuckle. His finely-chiseled face, illuminated by the oil lamps on the wall, broke into a fond expression. Pulling you close to his frame, he pressed your head against his chest, head dipping to kiss into your hair.

"Do you really?" Your brows furrowed slightly, eyes blinking away the tears as you wrapped your arms around his torso, head pressed against his chest. It's been too long without the feeling of your lover's arms around you. It's just been way too long for you, "If you miss me that much then-"

While nuzzling his chest, you come to realization he lacked a heartbeat, and with that thought striking your mind like lightning, you detached yourself from his form instantly. He eyed your trembling form without any sign of amusement.

"Don't look at me like that!" Cowering back against the wall, you broke into screams of despair, fingers pulling handfuls of your hair as you shook your head rapidly, "You're dead— you're not real!" you slapped the heels of your palms against your temple repeatedly, eyes scrunched shut, "Not real! Not real! This is all just my imagination!"

He released a chilling laugh that traveled down your spine and left your fingers and toes numbingly cold. A sudden gust of wind sent the crispy, autumn leaves scampering wildly into the window while also extinguishing the lamplights that illuminated the room, plunging it into darkness.

You only had a second to register his close proximity, your pupils dilating instantly, before a hand latched onto your throat, ramming your head back against the wall in the process. His vice-like, lithe fingers squeezed around your windpipe, successfully blocking your air flow as you squirmed in his relentless hold, lungs burning and diaphragm spasming.

"You'll join me so we can be together again, hm?"

The fist around your throat choked your response, and he tilted his head with a mocking smile, "I'm sorry, what was that?"

His hold only faltered ever so slightly to give you enough air to speak, "I don't want to die," your reply was a little more than a ghost of a breath.

"But, baby," his fingers coiled around your neck, pressing unforgivingly hard until your darkening vision littered with stars, "don't you realize you're already on the brink of death. Just give in, y/n. Don't keep fighting."

The silence of the atmosphere contributed to the solemnity in the air, and despite the clear blue skies and warm sun, there was a relentless chill in Wooyoung's heart. The black-haired male crouched down over the grave, gently placing a small bundle of roses onto the base of the tombstone.

"Happy birthday, Joong," he mused sadly, his puffy, tired eyes flickering over to the sides where the other tombstones lay.

"I'm so sorry for breaking my promise," he blinked rapidly to rid himself of the stinging tears threatening to spill, nose scrunching slightly as he sniffled, "I should've been there that day- shouldn't have let y/n come here alone- and.."

"You know nothing was your fault, Woo. Stop blaming yourself for something you had no control of."

A hand clutched his shoulder, and he peered with tear-filled eyes to give the blonde male a grateful smile, before turning back to the grave, "Yeosang's awake now though and- and the doctors said that y/n's case isn't as bad as his was, so we have hope."

"Y/n is a stubborn fighter," Yeosang offered the other a small smile, crouching down to rub his trembling friend's back, "Everything will be okay in due time."

"I hope so.. and I hope you'll forgive me, Hongjoong," Wooyoung murmured, watching two small butterflies flutter and chase each other around the blossoming flowers atop of Hongjoong's grave.

#ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong x reader #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung imagines #yeosang imagines #seonghwa imagines #choi san imagines #ateez horror

[wallwriterstuff]

Chalk Lines || Alec Volturi x Reader ||

Summary: Alec has met his mate, but he isn’t quite sure he wants one. With a few revelations from Marcus and the discovery of a hidden talent, Alec finds that having a mate isn’t actually all that bad. 

Warnings: Implied homelessness, a brief mention of your standard Volturi violence 

Words: 3427 

The witch twins had quite the reputation and none of the adjectives used to describe them were necessarily pretty.

Deadly.

Cruel.

Sadistic.

Terrifying.

It was a useful reputation given their occupation, but it wasn’t necessarily a true reflection of either twin’s character. Though she may have been hot-headed and quick to torture her adversaries, Jane became far less terrifying when one knew about her penchant for collecting coins; she’d sworn both Demetri and Felix to secrecy when the pair had stumbled across the tiered briefcases in her room, specially designed to hold centuries worth of different coins in varying types and shapes. Alec on the other hand was considered less likely to explode with rage but seen as the quiet and calculating type, yet if anyone saw him squirreled away in Volterra’s library, nose glued to the pages of a book as it so often was, the jagged edges of his cold silence suddenly became a lot softer and he looked far less threatening.

Sadly, people rarely looked beyond the surface in this modern world. It was for that very reason that Alec had not seen his mate in the two weeks since you’d been brought to Volterra. It had been pure coincidence that as they tracked the abnormally large nomadic coven, they’d stumbled right through the alleyway the young human was huddled in. Alec had been locked in place the moment he set eyes on you, your tear stained cheeks turning his muscles rigid until the others had been forced to stop with him. You were about the same age as he had been when he was turned he thought, which only made it all the stranger that the young human would be alone in a filthy alleyway so late at night. He couldn’t just leave you, not when he could smell the oncoming storm and all you had was a flimsy looking jacket and a leather-bound book to your name. Of course, they also couldn’t have just left the hunt, not when those nomads had drawn too much attention already.

The human hadn’t particularly appreciated being forcibly removed from their alleyway to witness the execution of five vampires, or maybe it was the fact said vampires tried to kill you as Alec and the others flitted about tearing them limb from limb? Either way the violent spectacle had not been the best introduction to the supernatural world, and the fear in your eyes whenever you saw Alec, Demetri, Felix or Jane ever since that moment was something that irked Alec more than he let on. He didn’t even necessarily want a mate, so the instinctual upset he felt at your obvious distress had only made his irritation worse the longer the situation dragged on for. Caius was getting impatient to, insisting the little human be turned and the threat to their secrecy you represented eliminated. Aro was of a different opinion, wanting you to have some time to adjust to your new life in Italy and to start feeling comfortable amongst the Coven members, lest you be thrown into a heightened state of anxiety and terror when you were turned.

Alec hadn’t even seen the damn human he had being trying to avoid and track down in equal measure. If Caius’s ranting hadn’t been enough to drive him mad Jane had been giving him an earful about making himself miserable by ignoring you. He knew he was being a little petulant, but the truth was he was forever frozen at 13 (maybe 14, he wasn’t too sure since the date wasn’t kept as religiously in the medieval era and his human memory was blotchy at best) and didn’t want to be eternally bound to a lover. It was in the library, his eyes rereading the same page he’d been stuck on for the last twenty minutes, that Marcus found him. He greeted his master with a gentle inclination of his head, mildly surprised when the older man glided to the opposite end of the sofa he sat on and sank down into the leather.

“Haven’t you read that one before?” Marcus asked. His voice was no more than a breath of air, a sigh carried on a gentle breeze. He was not known for being loud or brash. Alec glanced at him, not surprised to find his master staring straight ahead with the same mournful expression he always held. Well, it was Didyme’s portrait that hung above the fireplace after all, she had loved reading to.

“I have read everything in here at least five times over.” Alec pointed out, bringing the ghost of a smile to Marcus’s lips. It wasn’t necessarily unusual for Marcus to join him in the library, though it was far more common for their evenings to spent in silence since he wasn’t the best conversationalist. That was okay though, since Alec wasn’t particular keen on conversation either, preferring the quiet and the calm it brought. The last moments of his life were spent full of screaming and shouting and he found himself rather adverse to loud noise now.

“I wonder, has your mate seen this library?” he mused. Alec frowned slightly, the familiar irritation bubbling within him at the mention of his mate. Maybe he didn’t want to share something with someone who clearly wasn’t keen on sharing even a sliver of their time with him, had no one though of that?

“I would not know.” He replied, though he couldn’t quite keep his voice even. Marcus hummed slightly under his breath, his eyes never once leaving the painting across from him. Alec felt the usual sympathy that bubbled within him when Marcus looked like this, when it was clear his coven and his duty were all he had left but all he wanted was to be ash on the wind, finally free. Marcus called his name softly, forcing Alec to turn his attention from his book (that he was no further through than he had been when he started reading almost two hours ago) and look back at the ancient one.

“I do not think they want a mate either.” He said, surprising him. Alec thought he had hidden it rather well, but he should have known that Marcus would see. He read relationships, he saw the bonds that formed between people and no doubt had acknowledge how weak the one Alec shared with his so called mate must have been. Hell, he was surprised it hadn’t withered and died yet.

“They…don’t?” he questioned. Marcus shook his head.

“Relationships look different, for everyone. Romantic threads tend to be a different colour, yours…yours resembles something more akin to friendship.” He informed him. Alec’s brows tugged down into a frown.

“Mates don’t have to be romantically involved?” he questioned. Marcus chuckled.

“No, platonic relationships between mates are more common than you think. Perhaps there ought to be another name for these kinds of mates, but I believe, what yours would like more than anything else, is a friend.” His voice was calming to the turbulent thoughts in his head, and Alec found himself nodding along as if part of him had known that all along. The problem was, Alec wasn’t exactly sure how to go about making friends either. He didn’t have all that many, and he supposed that you didn’t have all that many either given the state he’d found you in. Looking back on it, he couldn’t honestly say he found that he was as curious as a mate should be. The mates he knew were all romantically involved and completely devoted to everything about their other half, yet he’d never really felt that intense sort of pull towards them. There was a pull there for sure but…it wasn’t strong.

“I’m not sure how to be a good friend.” He admitted quietly, setting his book aside.

“Sometimes souls are joined together not because they are the missing other half, but simply because the halves that already exist compliment each other so well.” Marcus said, his eyes turning back towards Didyme’s portrait. Alec followed his gaze briefly, finding himself a lot calmer somehow when he thought of his mate as something other than a life partner. Now he wasn’t caught up in the worry of expectations, he felt guilt start to creep in. His mate had been left alone in an unfamiliar castle after a terrifying experience, and he had done little to soothe them since their arrival. He sighed quietly, pushed to his feet, and bid his master a quiet farewell before heading to Demetri’s room. What was he even supposed to do when he found you? What was he supposed to say? What could make up for a fortnight of ignorance on his part?

“Alec, are you planning on knocking or will you continue to dwindle away the evening hours by standing like an idiot at my door?” Demetri wondered, opening it just enough to lean his shoulder against the wooden frame. His face was smug, like he knew already what he was here for. Alec didn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Do not waste my time and less of it shall dwindle away, then.” He retorted, face unchanging. Demetri cocked his head, his smirk widening slightly as the silence settled between them. For those who knew Demetri well, it was easy to tell when he was using his gift. It was practically instinctual for him at this point but Alec saw the brief lapse of his attention, his eyes shifting from sharp and keen to vacant as he reached for your tenor, not seeing the hallway anymore but a variety of what he had described as colourful cords once.

“Same place they’ve been the past few weeks.” He said finally, his smile falling slightly, “One floor up right at the end of the corridor above us.” Alec frowned slightly. That corridor was abandoned, what was his mate doing there? With a slight nod of appreciation to Demetri, Alec turned on his heel and moved swiftly down the corridor towards the stairs leading upward. A lot of the upper floor had been destroyed in Marcus’s rage after he had lost Didyme. He had torn through most of the castle in his rage, rumour had it, but some of it had simply never been restored. Alec slowed his pace, eyes cutting through the gloom. The ripped tapestries and the leaves and dust that had blown in from broken windows left the whole place feeling rather eerie. He wondered briefly how his fragile mate could stand to be in such a place. Didn’t humans prefer lighter, warmer places? Then again, you had been left in an alleyway for some bizarre reason and Alec had know idea how long you’d been there.

A faint glow came from the room at the end of the corridor, the soft yellow light of a lamp he realised, as he moved closer. He could hear a gentle humming to, the melody building to the lyrics of a song he didn’t recognise drifting through the quiet toward him. He paused in the doorway, taking a moment to stare in awe. Unbeknownst to them, you had turned this abandoned room into your own personal haven, away from the vampires and the rest of the world. The floors were swept clean, the ivy that was creeping through a few other windows stripped away and cut back. The tapestries were removed from the walls and artfully ripped to create overlapping, mismatched pieces for an abstract, faded carpet in one corner. The shelves had been cleaned and polished, Alec recognising some of the books as those that had been provided in your room by them, but there was also a myriad of art supplies he knew hadn’t been. Currently, some of the tapestry was being used to soften the stone beneath your knees as you continued to add to a small, colourful piece in the corner of the curved wall.

It took him a moment to realise you were holding chalks, blending the light and dark to make varying shades for grass. One half of the large expanse of wall opposite the window was dark, in shades of grey and black and white. The one thing that did stand out was vibrant red of a figures eyes, and as Alec looked closer he realised that the blended figures were cloaked, depicting exactly what his mate had seen the night they met. The other half was still taking shape but was clearly supposed to be a brighter image.

“You have incredible talent.” He complimented. You jumped at the sound of his voice, heart jolting and speeding up in your chest as you dropped the chalk. With wide eyes, you stared back at Alec before scrambling to your feet, wiping chalky hands on the cloth protruding from the pocket of your jeans. Swallowing nervously, you glance back at your artwork before dropping your eyes to the floor, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the tapestry carpet. Alec thought you looked quite small like that, like you were embarrassed almost or expecting him to berate you, to laugh, or worse.  

“Thanks.” You mumbled. Alec hadn’t heard your voice sound like this before, the soft tones soothing and mellow, much different to the harsh sounds of screaming the night you’d met.

“May I come in?” he asked. He felt like he was intruding. You had set up plenty of lamps about and cushions on the carpet to make a small seating area, this was their space, not his. Slowly, his mate nodded, and Alec looked back at the chalk art on the wall once more.

“I…can rub it away.” You said, sounding uncertain. Alec immediately shook his head.

“Please don’t. I meant what I said, you have talent.” He lifted his hand without thinking, placing his index finger on a section of white and rubbing softly. Running his thumb over his finger, he marvelled at the slippery feel of the chalk dust between his fingers. “All of this is chalk?” he asked, the surprise in his voice obvious. He had never used chalk before as a medium. You nodded your head, pointing to the bucket of chalks at your feet, they were small and worked to stubs in some cases, but you clearly had made do.

“Did you never draw on the pavement with chalk as a kid?” you asked him. Alec’s lips twitched upward, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes.

“When I was child, we barely had roads.” He answered. He heard your heartbeat falter a little in your chest, the shock registering on your face. Now he took the time to look you over, he realised you looked quite calm here in your little space. You clearly felt at ease here, your (Y/E/C) eyes soft and open for him to read. Despite that, you were clearly still a little wary of him to, unsure of what to say, what his intentions were in coming here. “How long have you been drawing?” he asked, hating the way the silence grew so easily between you both. You shrugged a shoulder, moving towards your little cushion area and settling yourself cross-legged on the floor, looking up at him curiously. Alec folded his arms, remaining standing. Truthfully, he’d be no more comfortable on the floor than he would be standing, but he also didn’t want to invade your space when you were quite obviously sizing him up.

It was odd to feel like he was intruding in his own home.

“A while, my Mom taught me.” You answered. It was no more and no less than he had asked for. Alec nodded along, uncertain what to say next. How did people make friends? Drawing your knees up to your chest, you dropped your chin on top of your legs, looking up at him. Come to think of it, you hadn’t taken your eyes off of him yet. Alec let his eyes wander once more, taking in the books and supplies scattered about.

“You need some new chalk.” He noted. Maybe he could do something about your passion to try and gain your trust a bit?

“I can make do.” You answered immediately. Alec frowned.

“You’ve barely any left.” He retorted stubbornly. You shrugged at him again, like you didn’t really care much either way. “Well, we can go out tomorrow and get more maybe…or some new books for your shelf, if you like.” He offered. You tilted your head, regarding him like you were watching an interesting experiment through a microscope.

“You don’t have to.” You murmured, looking mildly bewildered by him. Alec got the impression not many people offered to do nice things for you.

“You’ve yet to see the city. I think that should change.” He said, and with a time to pick you up at your room tomorrow he left you be. He wasn’t even half-way down the corridor when he heard the scraping of chalk on the stone once more. Alec wasn’t honestly prepared for just how much time it took. He had thought you had been quite calm and comfortable with him that night he first went to you, but it was weeks before you held a fluent conversation with him, letting him freely know your thoughts without being prompted by questions, some of which you wouldn’t answer. You were clearly not used to trusting others, but over the weeks Alec spent learning to draw from you, reading with you, helping you further decorate your nook of the castle, he couldn’t deny you had developed a strong friendship. He felt complete, calm, happy even. Marcus had been right. Fate had drawn the two of you together not because you were meant to be his missing piece, but rather you were meant to smooth over the cracks and heal one another so that when the person who was meant to fill the gap came along, they got something a little less broken than before.

“Alec? I don’t think I ever said thank you, did I?” you asked, four centuries later while overlooking the Parisian skyline. You were on a mission to eradicate an idiotic nomad with a terrible habit of torturing humans, something Felix was very upset he was missing out on. Alec looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Thank you for what?” he questioned. You grinned at him.

“For choosing this little sewer rat to be your best friend.” You poked and prodded his side as you spoke, making him squirm slightly as he tried to bat your hands away. His serious expression faltered, melting into a carefree smile before he laughed and snatched you up, threatening to drop you over the edge. It would have been a lot less terrifying if you weren’t on one of the highest beams the Eiffel Tower had to offer.

“You want to keep trying your luck? Well? Do you?” he demanded, grinning wildly as you squealed, fingers curled tight into his arms. Alec reeled you back in, settling you on the beam beside him so you could go back to swinging your legs back and forth. For a moment the sound of your laughter fading into the night was allowed to settle, drifting away on the breeze as the silence grew between you. It was then Alec spoke. “You don’t have to thank me. I think I did it as much for me as I did for you.” He confessed. He could feel your eyes burning holes in the side of his face and risked a glance sideways, seeing your understanding expression. You knew all of his past, the same way he knew yours. You had both healed each other from a considerable amount of trauma.

“Well then…here’s to us.” You declared, standing to grip the metal beam behind you and you leaned out, chin up high and free hand on your hip in a ridiculous, ostentatious pose. You looked oddly like you were trying to model for a statue pose. Alec snorted.

“I am not doing that.” He said.

“What? No! Come on! You can’t leave me hanging like this!” you protested. Alec stood, shaking his head and starting to climb down.

“Watch me.”

“No!”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Best friends don’t let each other do stupid things alone!”

“You are never alone, I just prefer to watch your stupidity from the side-lines so I can be as affiliated with it as little as possible.”

“I’ll race you then!”

“Y/N don’t you dare jump off of the top of the Eiffel tower! Even we’re not that indestructible.”

“You ruin all my fun.”

#the volturi #alec volturi #alec volturi fanfiction #alec volturi imagine #x reader #alec volturi x reader #twilight #twilight imagines #twilight x reader #volturi fanfiction

[flaritywrites]

Call of the Discs

summary - before the main events of the smp war, dream makes a deal with a demon.

word count - 1,609

warnings - nightmares, demons, angst-ish 

a/n - this is my first attempt at a dreamsmp related fic. just for funsies—but let me know what you think! also, find it on ao3 here. 

-

Dream always seems to find himself here.

In the darkest hours of the night, distorted whispers poke and prod at his unconscious mind. Seductive and lilting like sirens, they lure him out of bed with promises of treasures—of uncharted land and untapped power.

The lust of a captivated sailor leads him through his castle. It guides him down the marble corridors with bare-feet, uses his calloused hands to pry open a set of familiar steel doors.

Somewhere between sleep and waking, Dream heeds their delicate instructions.

The weapons room is an array of glinting metals—of netherite swords and diamond axes. They line the walls like wallpaper, sharpened edges a whisper away from sliced flesh and fatal blows. There’s a sense of history that envelopes the dull, tile flooring: every footfall a recollection of dead men’s final words. Hollow victories echo from calvaries lost to time’s beckoning hands.

Even in this state, Dream relishes the familiar clinks and clangs of metal on metal.

They ground him to an unstable world.

Here—they unveil fate’s plans for him.

The joints in his fingers cramp up uselessly as he ties knot after knot. The pattern of rope and loops are ingrained like the lyrics of a song into his muscle memory. Attached to them are various forms of weapons: swords, spears, tridents. They hang from the ceiling on hooks like lanterns in a cavern, swinging helplessly in the wake of Dream’s antics.

After he’s secured the last knot, he climbs down his ladder.

The floor is cool to the touch. Dream absently watches the chills that flourish down his arms as he positions himself below his creation.

In the moonlight, the gleaming tips of his blades wink affectionately.

Swish, clink.

He closes his eyes.

Swish, clink.

And in his mind, he welcomes the sounds of his dreamscape.

Swish—

“Dream, heads up!”

An enderpearl shoots through the air like a rocket.

Dream, nine years old and unafraid of most anything the world has yet to offer, watches the glimmering ball fly past him with calculated boredom. In a split second decision, he takes the necessary side-step to avoid the pearl, and it narrowly misses his shoulder on a trajectory path to a nearby birch tree.

SPLAT.

It slides down the trunk in clumps of green goo.

From the purple mist that forms, a scruffy boy appears, sporting a wolfish grin and a victory whoop.

Dream grimaces. Holds back an eye-roll. “Sapnap, you have to stop—”

“DREAM!”

His instincts don’t save him this time.

Another boy releases an enderpearl, and this one has no chance of missing. It lands with an impressive POP directly on Dream’s spinal cord, and Dream doesn’t have time to avoid the scrawny body that falls out of this mist.

The boys tumble to the ground, and Dream meets a mouthful of dirt as wide-framed goggles dig into his shoulder blade. Grass tickles his cheek maddeningly. “George,” he muffles around several blades of grass, “you’re an idiot.”

His friend giggles above him. “Your mum’s an idiot.”

The two break out into a brawl of tiny fists and prepubescent insults, and the third boy, newly recovered from his encounter with the birch tree, makes his way over to the scuffle. He stands above them devilishly. “Well, boys,” he declares, tapping an elbow with an open palm, “you know what this means.”

A flurry of protests emerge from the tangle of limbs and clothing, but—

“DOOOOOGPILE!”

And with a manic shout, all three boys descend into the rampant chaos of a childhood afternoon’s playtime.

Above them, the summer sun glares harshly, covering the rolling hills with spiraling heatwaves and the orange hue of golden hour. A breeze tickles the hay bales and relieves the simmering livestock, earning a chorus of farm noises that brings the quiet ambience to a gentle crescendo.

In the middle of it all, Dream finds himself a spectator to his own childhood memory. Out of body, placed cross-legged on the top of his old barn’s roof, he watches his friends work together to pin him playfully to the ground. His younger self writhes in the green and yellow grass, bursting with uncontrollable laughter as Sapnap and George tickle him relentlessly.

It moves something within him.

“A happy childhood makes for a happy adulthood,” a voice observes coyly. Dream stiffens. “Or so I’ve been told.”

He doesn’t have to guess what happens next.

Before him, the summer trees begin to wither and decay. The bright green leaves detach themselves from their branches and float to the ground, blackening before they reach the dirt. One by one, he and his friends fade out of existence.

Predictable.

The voice tries again. “So if that’s the case,” it muses, voice switching from one side of Dream’s head to the other, “then what happened to you?”

Dream thumbs the mask at his belt. The voice is always the same—always indistinguishable, genderless. In this form, it’s more in Dream’s imagination than outside of him. He can feel it rattling around in his brain. Searching.

Dream slides the mask over his face. “I don’t recall paying for a therapy session.” He pauses to consider. “Did you put it on my tab?”

The voice is tired. “I long for the day when you’ll show me an ounce of respect.”

“I don’t respect demons.”

“The pot calls the kettle black, I’m afraid.”

Dream tsks dryly. “Touché.”

The voice falls silent around him. Behind Dream’s eyes, the tentacles of pressure relent into a dull ache. There’s a slight breeze, and though he won’t be able to remember what, Dream knows something has been taken from him.

A presence appears at his side.

“Hello, Clay.”

It’s George’s voice that greets him.

Dream is all at once very grateful for his mask.

“This is much better,” says his imitated friend. “I’ve always liked this body. It’s very...nimble.”

Dream risks a glance at the demon. It mirrors his position on the roof: George’s legs are delicately crossed, one hand draped across them, the other propped behind it for support. George’s goggles are a mockery on its face.

It even wears his friend’s careful smile.

Still, there’s one thing it can’t ever seem to get right.

“Do you think this body is nimble, Clay?” George’s eyes question him playfully.

The color is there—an intricate mix of brown and gold.

But they always lack his humanity.

Dream looks away. “Can we just get to why I’m here?”

“Ever the charmer,” George’s voice chides. In his peripherals, Dream watches it fumble with the goggles on its head. It pulls them down over its eyes, then back across its hairline. Dream shoots it a withering look. “Fine,” it groans. “But this one’s going to cost you.”

That perks Dream’s interest. “What’d you find?”

It pauses to look at him. A cheshire grin reveals George’s white teeth. “More than you can even fathom.”

Dream’s heart pounds in his chest. “Name your price.”

The denom tuts. “Now, now.” It transitions to a standing position. It doesn’t use its legs like a human—just kind of...teleports onto its feet. It teeters along the edge of the roof, crossing it like a tightrope. George’s token blue shirt billows in the wind. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Dream says immediately.

“I’m sure you will.” George’s arms splay like a bird in the wind. “But I have to warn you, Clay—this one isn’t for the faint of heart.”

Dream narrows his eyes. “Just tell me what you want, and it’s yours.”

The demon stops. Tilts its head to stare at Dream. “Promise?”

A trickle of unease crawls into Dream’s insides. George’s bronze gaze taunts him in a way he doesn’t understand.

“I promise.”

A smile oozes across the demon’s face. It removes the goggles from its head.

“For now, then, we’ll say you owe me a favor.”

It tosses the goggles over the roof. They fall soundlessly to the ground, frames gleaming with forgotten sunlight.

An enderpearl appears in their place. It glows almost neon in George’s pale hand.

On the inside, a purple mist billows and swirls.

Dream watches it flow.

“But until then—”

It bounces the enderpearl into the air. The orb explodes in a wonderful show of mauves and violets,

“—let’s go visit our trophy.”

Before Dream can react, a gentle haze builds in his vision. Around them, the scene begins to crumble at the edges. Blackness spills into the muted atmosphere.

Swish, clink.

The decayed forest disappears under the cloud of mist. It envelopes the roof, the demon, Dream—swallowing him whole and stealing his breath. His lungs erupt into flames around the mist.

Time slips away like a shadow. Dream’s senses leave him completely. He’s bodiless, now—a ghost. Remnants of a conscience.

Then—light.

They’re in a forest. He can’t see the demon, but it’s there. It’s part of him.

“Look around, Dream.”

A log cabin is in front of them. Through a glass window, Dream can barely make out a scrawny blonde boy squatting on the wooden floor.

Swish, clink.

There’s a half-finished jukebox before him, and he tinkers recklessly with a pick-axe.

Two black discs sit at his feet.

“This is what we’ve been waiting for.”

Swish—

Somehow, Dream can hear their songs.

The melody coils around him like a hungry snake. Visions of a new empire flash before him: reds and blues of a flag flying half-mast, overarching walls towered by smoke and spiraling arrows.

An ocean of want looms over Dream. Drops of it dampen his entire being.

“What are they?” He breathes.

The demon’s laugh is low and rumbling. It’s the only sound in the world.

“Opportunity.”

—clink.

#dreamsmp #dreamsmp fic #dream #georgenotfound #mcyt #fic #flaritywrites #my fic

[foreversillythings]

with the taste of pomegranate on our lips chapter two

part one kore chapter two the sun’s promise

“You seem awfully distracted today,” Rory said, his voice cutting straight through Gale’s musings. Gale startled in his seat and then frowned, fixing the spirit of death with a cold glare.

“Don’t you have work to be doing?” he asked and Rory raised a very annoying eyebrow.

“Don’t you?” he countered and gestured at a stack of documents Gale had yet to even glance at. Gale glared a little harder. “That’s very unlike you,” he continued and Gale breathed sharply through his nose.

“I’m fine,” he said firmly and Rory folded his arms across his chest, his other equally obnoxious eyebrow rising to join the other.

“I’m fine,” Gale repeated. “Now go. There are souls that need reaping.”

Rory rolled his eyes but went, though he did shoot one last wondering glance at Gale as he did. Gale waited until he was sure Rory was gone and then dropped his head into his hands. He was distracted. Ever since yesterday, he could not get her out of his head. Madge. 

The sweet sound of her laughter lingered in his ears, the lovely softness of her voice as she said his name. She had not seemed to feel the chill he brought with him everywhere he went, nor taste the fear that followed always in his wake. She had smiled, as radiant as the sun itself, had melted his chargers as if they were kittens rather than war horses and her eyes, those blue blue eyes, had gazed at him with warmth and wonder, rather than dread and disgust. He had never heard of her before, but he knew she was a goddess, he had felt the power thrumming within her. Who was she? Madge, not only beautiful, but achingly kind, who was this mysterious goddess? 

He tried to shove her away because he knew it would come to nothing. It did not matter who she was, he would not see her again. And even if he did, she was sure to turn from him. Everyone did. Whatever hold she had on him, whatever this enduring fascination, he would see it die. He was the shadow and she the light, they could not coexist. 

And they wouldn’t.

*

Madge asked the flowers outside her home what they knew of Gale, but they couldn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know. She sighed and rubbed their soft petals between her fingers, curiosity like a hunger in her belly. He had haunted her dreams last night and she found herself staring into every shadow, hoping vainly to find him there. Why was she so stuck on him? He was handsome yes, so very handsome, but was that enough to captivate her so? No, she didn’t think it was. Perhaps it was also his sadness, the guarded misery she had seen peeking out through the cracks in the armor he had so obviously built up around himself. Perhaps too the soft way he’d looked at her and spoken, his voice a gentle caress that warmed her skin. Or maybe it was all of it, all of him, burrowing deep and refusing to leave.

I wonder, is he thinking of me too?

“What are you doing here?” her mother’s angry voice demanded, floating around the house on a light breeze. Madge turned but could not see her, nor who she was speaking to. 

“I’ve come to woo your lovely daughter,” a man’s voice replied, smooth like silk. Madge perked up instantly at the thought of meeting someone new before his words sunk in. He has come to woo me? She bit her lip and stood carefully, an odd feeling in her chest. Madge took quiet steps towards the house, each stalk of wheat and blade of grass murmuring encouragement. 

“As have I,” another voice said, boyish and cheery. Madge froze. Who are they? Why have they come for me? She crept forward until she was against the side of the house and moved silently beside the wall until she reached the corner. 

“How did you even know she was here?” Seeder asked as Madge peeked around the edge of the wall, her eyes finding her furious mother first. She stood with balled fists on her hips, her brown eyes molten. 

“From my chariot I can see everything, including the ravishing young Madge,” the first man answered and Madge turned her gaze on him. She swallowed a gasp, her eyes stinging at his radiance. He seemed to glow with yellow light, his golden skin lit up from the inside. He was tall and covered with a fine coating of muscle, his hair the exact colour of the sun above. It waved gently against his neck and he was dressed in very little, just a crown of laurel leaves and a barely there wrap covering his buttocks and genitals. He was lovely to look upon, there was no denying it, but the arrogance carved into his every line muted that beauty until it barely glowed. Madge blinked to erase the spots in her eyes from staring at him and he had to be Marvel, for who else could he be? Marvel was the god of many things, one of which was the sun and this man before her exuded the very same light and warmth of that orb. He had also mentioned a chariot and it was Marvel riding in his chariot that caused the sun to rise every morning, so this had to be him.

“She is not interested,” Seeder said firmly and Madge felt a flush of annoyance. She wasn’t interested in marrying this Marvel, but shouldn’t she have the chance to say so herself? Marvel laughed and flicked blonde hair from his eyes, the smile that settled on his lips plump with hubris.

“I am sure she will reconsider when she sees the gifts I have brought her,” he said and Seeder tensed, her jaw clenching. The other visitor stepped forward and Madge swung her gaze to him.

“I too have gifts,” he said and he was shorter than Marvel, though not by much. He had messy red hair beneath a round hat, freckled skin dusted with a summer tan and a young, boyish face. His smile was wide and friendly, he wore a traveler’s cloak over his sky blue chiton and there were wings on his sandals. Darius then, god of thieves, travelers, trade, athletes and messenger of the gods. She liked him better than Marvel at once, but she did not feel the same flutters Gale had set loose inside her. Seeder scowled.

“We do not want your gifts. Leave now,” she ordered and Darius slumped while Marvel looked down at Seeder with disdain.

“I should like to hear that from the girl herself,” he said and Seeder’s eyes flashed dangerously, all the warmth in the air vanishing and the sun itself seeming to dim. Darius looked around in alarm and Madge could feel the grass between her toes wailing in grief. She bent down to listen better and she could feel the life leaving them, the blades withering around her. It took all her power to keep them alive and she looked back at her mother, menace emanating from her in blood curdling waves.

“Do not try my patience Marvel,” Seeder boomed in a voice that seemed to echo in every direction. Storm clouds gathered overhead and the wind began to howl, its ice slicing through Madge’s clothes. She had never seen her mother like this, her anger a terrifying sight to behold. This then, was the true power of the goddess Seeder.

“We meant no offence,” Darius insisted and elbowed Marvel in the side. “We’ll leave.”

“Yes,” Marvel said slowly, a distant look in his eyes. “But we will not be the only ones. You will lose her soon Seeder,” he pronounced and all the fury drained from her mother, replaced by fear.

“Why? How? Tell me please,” she begged and Madge frowned. Why was her mother acting so strange all of a sudden? Why did Marvel’s words matter so much? 

“Please Marvel, tell me!” her mother pleaded, falling to her knees and Marvel shook his head. He climbed into a golden chariot pulled by horses with flaming manes and picked up the reins, his eyes hard as they fell upon Seeder.

“You have refused my gifts Seeder; I shall not offer you another.”

He snapped the reins and the chariot leapt forward, Seeder crumpling with a wail. Madge stared in shock, her mother’s obvious distress piercing her heart. Why? Why was she so terrified by what he’d said?

And then it came to her.

Marvel was god of many things, the sun being only one.

Another was prophecy.

*

Gale sighed and rubbed his forehead, his mound of paperwork never seeming to diminish. What he wouldn’t give for a day off, but he’d never have one. Death did not stop, not even for its king.

“Oh, I hope I’m not interrupting,” Darius’ voice said from behind him and Gale turned in his chair. In the entrance to his study stood Darius draped in his perpetual good cheer. Gale frowned. If Darius was here, that meant Olympus had a message for him. Those were never good.

“You are,” he said. “What do you want?”

Darius was unperturbed by Gale’s rudeness, but then, he always was. 

“I’ve come for one of your new arrivals,” he explained with a grin. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Brutus has gone a bit overboard with the sea storms and it turns out one of the ships he sank contained Lyme’s newest pet hero. She’s practically frothing at the mouth.”

“I can imagine,” Gale said drily. Lyme was the goddess of wisdom, strategy and crafts, but also the patroness of heroes. She took her duties very seriously and her anger would be doubled with Brutus as the culprit. Their rivalry was an old and seemingly endless one and Gale did not doubt for a moment that Brutus had sunk that particular ship on purpose.

(and he had noticed the uptake in storms at sea, after all, his realm had been flooded all day with newly drowned souls. He wondered if the other gods ever stopped to think about how their actions might affect him, but then, he was pretty sure he knew the answer)

“She’s been kicking up such a fit that Gloss decided it’d be best if we just brought the dead hero back to life. Even Brutus, who denies doing this on purpose of course, is in agreement. Though that might be because Lyme has threatened to enact some rather gruesome vengeance on him.”

Gale rolled his eyes and Darius grinned. “So yes, I’ve been sent to bring him back up to the world of the living. With your permission of course,” he added hastily and Gale barely held back a snort. Why even bother asking his opinion when they clearly expected him to do whatever they asked? They had made this decision without once consulting him and they’d sent Darius down not to ask his thoughts on the matter, but to carry out the task. No, they obviously didn’t think for a moment that he would ever refuse. He was tempted to for that reason alone, just to prove that he could and would. He was lord of the underworld; they could not resurrect a soul without his permission. This was his realm and they had to respect his decisions and wouldn’t it be nice to remind them of that? But he wouldn’t, of course he wouldn’t. He sighed.

“Everything alright?” Darius asked and Gale scowled.

“Yes,” he said and stood. “Come on then, we’ll have to go to the hall of judgment to see where this hero’s wound up.”

Darius nodded and fell into step behind Gale. Torches blazed on the walls as they made their way out of the palace, but there was still some essential brightness that seemed to be lacking. It was the same everywhere in the underworld, not a spark of life to be found. 

“That’s not the only spat happening in our divine family today,” Darius said and Gale blinked.

“Oh really?” he asked without interest and Darius nodded eagerly. 

“Marvel and Seeder almost threw down.”

Gale was not surprised someone was annoyed at Marvel; he was one of the most obnoxious people Gale had ever met. He was a bit surprised at Seeder’s involvement though.

“Why?” he asked, interested despite himself. 

“Well, turns out Seeder’s got this secret daughter she never told any of us about. Can you believe it? Marvel saw her one day when he was flying by in his chariot and apparently she’s very beautiful. So he decided to stop by for a little wooing.”

Gale frowned. “Marvel wanted to marry her?”

Darius snorted. “I doubt it. I think that was just his story to get close to her. Seeder would never let him near her otherwise. I went too. The way Marvel described her; I just had to get a look.”

“And did you?” 

Darius shook his head as they reached the front doors of the palace and stepped outside.

“No, Seeder wasn’t having any of that. She doesn’t want her daughter to marry anyone, which is too bad. If she’s as lovely as Marvel says, I wouldn’t mind having her as a wife.”

The sunlight was weak in the underworld, Marvel’s golden orb struggling to touch a place so far away, and Gale felt a strange kinship with this mysterious girl. Does she want to marry? he wondered or is she happy to have her mother beating away her suitors? Is she lonely kept hidden away from the world?

“You know Marvel though, he doesn’t take kindly to the word ‘no’. They butted heads and I honestly thought she was going to try and smite us right there. Wait, can we be smited? I’m never sure how this immortality thing works. We can be hurt, so can we be killed? And if not, then why can we be hurt? Whatever. Point is, Seeder was furious and scary. Marvel was at least smart enough to leave after that. Though he did pronounce some grave prophecy about her losing her daughter anyway, it really screwed her up. I can’t decide though if it’s real or if he just made it up to get the last word. You never can tell with him.”

“No,” Gale agreed, “you can’t.” 

The Hall of Judgment loomed before them and just as they went to step inside, a sudden impulse pushed words from Gale’s throat.

“What was her name?” he asked and Darius furrowed his brow.

“I think…Madge. Yeah, I think it was Madge.”

*

Time passed slowly for Madge, no new visitors coming by. That prophecy of Marvel’s continued to haunt their home, her mother’s eyes forever fearful. She was more smothering than ever and though Madge understood why, she still found it difficult to breathe. 

How was she to be lost? Was someone going to steal her away? She thought of the nymph Chloris that used to attend her mother; she had been abducted by Zephyrus, the god of the west wind, and never returned. Was that to be Madge’s fate? A prize for some god or brazen mortal, to be ravished unwilling? That was what her mother feared and Madge could not deny it worried her too. She was a goddess yes, but she had never had to defend herself before, she didn't even know how. If only her mother would teach her that, rather than hoping a locked door and constant supervision would keep her safe. 

Madge loved Seeder, of course she did, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t at least a little relieved when her mother was called away to a meeting on Mount Olympus. Aspasia and Charmion were under strict orders to keep Madge locked up tight inside, but even still, there was at least some freedom to be found without Seeder around.

And as Madge had already learned, Charmion and Aspasia were not the most vigilant of guardians. 

*

Gale was a fool, a stupid, stupid fool.

Madge had probably forgotten him and even if she hadn’t, she would not welcome him; no one ever welcomed the lord of the dead. Her mother wanted her kept apart from men of any sort and yet here Gale was on his way home from Olympus, making sure to take the same route he’d taken last time. 

He couldn’t stop thinking of her smile, her sunny blue eyes, the warmth in her voice. In all the many days that had passed since their only meeting, his craving to see her again had only grown. He knew it was pointless, knew whatever kindness she had shown him must be a fluke, knew she would reject him as everyone did. But here he was, racing towards that same copse of trees on the slim, stupid chance that her kindness hadn’t been a mistake, that he might be blessed enough to see that smile once again.

What a fool he was.

*

Madge knew she was a fool.

The god of prophecy himself had said she would soon be lost, the last thing she should be doing was sneaking out of the house. And yet the chance for fresh air upon her face was too great to ignore. She would not go far and she would have her plants to tell her of anyone else’s approach, she would be safe. But she needed to get out. 

When Charmion and Aspasia turned to gossip and heady wine, Madge pleaded a headache and went to her bed, her heart racing with rebellion and escape. She waited a few moments and then squeezed out the window into the brilliant sunlight, sighing happily as the wind brushed her face. The grass was soft beneath her feet and she heard their eager voices, each one calling out how they had missed her. She beamed and knelt down, her fingers combing through their verdant blades.

“Oh, I missed you too my friends.”

She stayed there for a moment, her fingers sinking into the soil, until Gale began to flood her thoughts. There was a meeting at Olympus today, would he be there? And would he return the same way he had last time? Indecision warred inside of her and Madge stood, brushing dirt from her peplos. I will wait for only a little while, just in case. Her heart beat was loud in her ears as she walked towards the trees, anticipation and something sweeter filling up her blood. Be vigilant for me, she whispered to her friends, each flower and blade of grass, every tree and stalk of wheat standing to attention. If anyone hoped to come for her, she would hear of it long before they reached her.

I am not helpless Mother, can’t you see that?

Madge stopped as she reached the trees, steadying herself against the nearest one. The shadows stretched out before her, bird song echoed faintly through the branches and any manner of wickedness might be waiting for her inside.

Madge took a deep breath and stepped between the trees.

*

This is so stupid, she won’t be there. You’re setting yourself up for failure. Return to the dead, they are the only ones who want your company.

Gale cursed himself even as he rode onwards, unable to stop the pull in his chest that dragged him on. He knew this was a mistake, he knew it, she wouldn’t-

She was here. 

Gale felt his mouth go dry at the sight of her standing in the dark, a single slice of sunlight through the leaves illuminating her until she filled every corner of his vision. Her peplos was a delicate pink, her skin was still rosy and sun kissed, her blonde hair fell about her shoulders with strings of flowers woven through it and he was ensnared, entirely, completely. Madge turned her head and saw him, his shadow form fading without even a thought. His chariot came to a halt and she smiled, all the breath suddenly stolen from his lungs. She stepped nearer, not a shred of fear or hesitancy in her gait.

Was she waiting for me? She can’t have been, she wouldn’t-

“I’m so glad you came, I was afraid you wouldn’t,” she said and reached out to stroke Aethon’s head, the horse nuzzling into her happily. The others soon crowded forward, all hoping for a touch of her hand and Gale tried to clear his head.

“You were waiting for me?” he asked, still unable to fully process this and she nodded.

“I’ve been hoping to see you again and I thought you might travel this way.”

Gale swallowed and she ducked her head, a dusting of pink crawling over her cheeks. 

“Do you not want me here?” she asked quietly and his heart lurched. 

“No, I mean, I do. I…I had hoped to see you again too.”

He surprised himself by admitting it and she looked up, a truly radiant smile blooming across her face. Even though he knew this couldn’t end well, they were part of two entirely different worlds after all, he would never regret the sight of that smile. She released the horses and came towards him, his pulse starting to speed up beneath his skin. She rested her hands on the edge of his chariot and grinned up at him, her eyes sparkling. 

“Will you come down? If we’re going to talk, I’d rather not break my neck to do it.”

He nodded a little jerkily and dismounted, embarrassed at himself. He was acting like a newborn deer on shaky legs, he had to get a hold of himself. Madge spun to face him, her skirt flaring out and he did not mean to stare, but he couldn’t stop himself. 

“How was Olympus?” she asked and he shook himself. He wasn’t some fluff headed youth, he was a god and a king. He knew how to talk to a woman. 

“The usual,” he grunted with a shrug and maybe he didn’t. Maybe he’d forgotten. Or maybe the women of his past had merely pitied him. Madge laughed.

“You’re so very eloquent. Even still, I think I would like to visit. I am so tired of the same old places. I’ve never been farther than these trees.”

He frowned and remembered Darius’ words, a strange pang happening in his stomach. 

“Your mother does not allow you to?” he asked and she shook her head.

“No, she fears I may be taken away by some brute.”

“And you? Do you not fear that I might be that brute?’

Madge bit her pretty pink lip and shook her head, her hands lacing behind her back.

“No. I wouldn’t be here if I did.”

Gale swallowed and looked away, the trust in her eyes making his stomach curl around itself. 

“That is a surprise. I do not have the best reputation.”

“Well, I suppose that’s the benefit of such a sheltered upbringing. I know little of anyone’s reputation,” she said and he couldn’t stop his lips quirking into a smile. He lifted his eyes and she was grinning too, her body leaning towards his. He should say something now, something suave or charming, something funny or flirtatious but words would not come. He stood there, useless and stupid, and thankfully his horses saved him, the four of them whinnying and pawing at the dirt. Madge looked over at them and laughed.

“I think they feel left out,” she said and moved over to pet them, Aethon and Orphnaeus nuzzling greedily into her hands and chest. The others stamped their feet and Madge turned back to Gale with a smile. 

“You’ll have to help; I do only have two hands.”

Gale blinked several times before jolting into action, his hands reaching for Alastor and Nyctaeus. Madge hummed softly and Gale couldn’t help but watch her, the sight of anyone being so affectionate with his horses truly bizarre. His chargers tended to inspire terror in any who saw them and yet here Madge was, cooing and stroking their heads. 

“I suppose I will have to go soon,” she sighed and Gale felt his stomach tighten. He looked determinedly at Alastor, his spirits sinking.

“Do you think…is there some way we might speak again?” she asked and Gale turned so fast he heard his neck crack. She had stilled her petting, her fingers knotted in Orphnaeus’ mane, and she would not look at him, her eyes cast down to her feet. She wanted to speak to him again? Truly? Gale cleared his throat.

“Well, we do tend to have these meetings fairly regularly. I...I could come back this way again."

Madge looked up at him with a shy smile.

"I would like that. I love hearing stories and I am sure you have a great many to tell."

Gale licked dry lips and Madge picked up her skirt and hurried to the edge of the trees. She stopped for a moment and turned, the sun's rays beaming all around her.

"Goodbye Gale," she said with a smile and hurried out across the meadow. He lurched forward and stood between the trees, his hands clutching the rough bark and his eyes following her home.

"Goodbye Madge."

*

Madge crawled back in through her window and fell into bed with a smile upon her face. She placed her hands over her heart and sighed, Gale still warm inside her thoughts. She felt alive in a way she never had before and she could not wait to see him again. 

Her mother thought to keep her caged here, but Madge was not meant for a life locked up tight behind four walls. Just like her plants, Madge was meant to thrive in sunshine. And she would. Meeting Gale, talking with him, they were just baby steps, but they were enough.

One day, Madge would see the world. 

#gadge #madge undersee #gale hawthorne #hades and persephone au #fanfiction #Hunger Games

[visionofnoxus]

.🖋️ have fun :>

A poem or some adoring words my muse would write to yours. Which they may or may not ever show anyone at the end.

Maiden of Islands,

A gentle soul in summer breeze,

Two bonds of jade in a pale garden,

Humble and fair, floral scents wrapped in silk,

Curiosity married to compassion,

The small flower in a garden of monsters,

May she not wither but prosper,

Love to find the deserving haven.

The general stared at the paper in front of him. He glanced out of the window, staring at the horizon of the Guardian Sea. The ship he was on sailed boldly forward towards Noxus, leaving the island nation behind once again. Shaking his head with amusement, he took the paper, stepping over to the window and opening it. “A childish attempt” he judged his work, tossing the parchment out, a gust of wind taking hold of it and carrying it away.

#eyesofcuriosity #Sinday asks #not so spicy but certainly adoring #how did I do

[wandering-bard-from-the-id]

Daughters of Arendelle - Chapter 43

Daughters of Arendelle - Chapter 43

Part II - War

Chapters 1 - 42 can be found at FF.net

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12222767/1/Daughters-of-Arendelle

Chapter 43

September 14, 1840

 Sunlight glistened off a crystal blue breastplate and gauntlets as Elsa rose above the wall. Wind swirled the loose skirt covering ice formed leggings and boots. Blond hair swept back, held in place by a light touch of ice. One lone lock swayed with the breeze. Were it not for darkening bruises along her cheeks and neck, one would never have suspected she’d spent the day engaged in battle.

 Armor hid ice sealed wounds, stopping the flow of blood. Damage caused by the disk, faded as her magic grew stronger. Muscle ache and fatigue had eased to a bearable level.

The kraken lifted her above the rampart roof.

 Smoke curled with the wind, settling along the walls, and under ramparts, obscuring some areas. Small clusters of townspeople were scattered about. Within the clusters lay dead or wounded men. All that remained of Hans’ troops.

 Arendelle Guardsmen and Marines had collected their weapons and were trying to bring about some order. It took three of them to drive several townspeople off a traitor guardsman they’d beaten down. Broken and bleeding, he withered in pain.

 Beyond an arched brow, Elsa wasted no further thought on him. She searched for any signs of a winged helmet among the crowd. Concern inched toward fear when none was found.

 “It’s the Queen!” Called a voice from below.

 Cheers filled the air as all eyes turned to the figure rising above the outer courtyard wall.

“I told you she’d come.” Anna’s wide smile couldn’t mask the emotions choking her words. Desperate to see her sister, she tried to turn toward the wall, ignoring the protest of abused muscles.

 “Yes, you did.” Tears of joy trailed down Gerda’s cheeks as she watched Elsa step from the Kraken’s tentacle onto an ice platform forming atop the roof.  

 Hans mumbled a sharp curse. Olsen, Kai and several Guardsmen were moving in to protect their princess. There was no way he could reach her before one of them struck him down.

 He looked to the courtyard.

 Townspeople and Marines blocked the castle entrance, barring an escape through the tunnels. Left with no choices, Hans turned for the main gate.

 “There’s nowhere to run, Hans!” Anna taunted him.

 0000

 The sight of a figure limping toward the gates sent ice buzzing through Elsa’s veins. Hans. Concern gave way to a slow burning rage. Ice rushed to her hands, eager for release. She didn’t hold it back.

 Outstretched hands formed an ice ramp at her feet. She rode it from atop the wall out and over the courtyard, landing gracefully between the fountains.

 Not taking her eyes from the fleeing man, Elsa stepped from the ramp. It swirled away in a flurry of snowflakes with a wave of her hand.

 “Protect the Queen!” Admiral Halldor rallied his men.

 “No!” Elsa’s command brought the men to a full stop, several eased back. “Stay out of my way.”

 An eerie silence settled over the courtyard as all eyes followed the Snow Queen.

 Ice sparked and crackled off Elsa’s body, waves of cold air pulsed around her. Small flurries swirled in her wake with each step. Her face revealed nothing.

 “Help me up.” Anna tugged at Gerda’s jacket and shoulders, trying to climb to her feet.

 “No, Anna, lay still.” Gerda held her tight. “Let Queen Elsa handle this.”

 “I want to watch.” She squirmed trying to find leverage.

 “Let me help you, Milady.” Large, gentle hands slipped under her knees, and around her back.

 “Kai, you’re hurt.” Reaching over Anna, Gerda touched his face.

 He pulled back from the fingers tracing over a bruised cheek. “I’m fine, my love.”

 “Thanks, Kai.” Anna wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her from the ground.

 “Careful of her leg.” Gerda fussed with the bloody skirt a moment before stepping aside.

 Townspeople parted for them as they moved in closer.

 Hans stole a glance over his shoulder. Elsa was gaining on him. Using the sword for support, steel scraped over stone in an ear-piercing squeal.

 Another glance sent him into a panicked trot. His eyes searched the ramparts for his troops. “Someone shoot her!”

 “Your men are gone, Hans. No one is coming to save you.” Elsa’s slow, steady stride carried the grace of a Queen.

 Hans reached for the postern door. Ice flew past him, leaving frost on his clothes and bare skin. He jerked back as it slammed into the door, sealing it. “Dammit!”

 Soldiers and townspeople blocked the nearest rampart stairs.  

 Cursing under his breath, Hans started for the other postern door.

 The crowd circled in, blocking his path. They were careful to stay clear of their Queen.

 “Stay back, you backwoods cretins!” He swung the sword in a wide, clumsy arc. “I am a Royal prince! Touch me, and my father will lay this little shithole of a country to waste!”

 “Your father has no power here. I am the law of this land.” Elsa advanced on him. “I showed you mercy, and you repaid me with war.” Ice shards exploded from her hand.

 They tore through Hans’ clothes, shredding them. Small trails of blood trickled from fresh cuts. He screamed, twisting about as though dodging angry ice bees.

 “You invaded my home.” More ice flew, more wounds appeared.

 “You attacked my people.”

 One shard found his bare forearm, embedding deep in the flesh. Muscles undamaged by Anna’s arrow were severed by sharp ice.

 Hans cried out, cradling the arm to his side. His breath came in sharp, quick pants. He stumbled back, raising the sword, eyes darting from side to side. “Stay away from me!”

 Elsa paused, she could smell the fear radiating off him. It sent ice dancing over fingertips.

 “Those crimes alone would justify your execution. For the pain you’ve caused my beloved sister, you shall suffer tenfold.” Elsa’s mask cracked with the decree.

 “To hell with you! To hell with your precious people, and your whore sister!” He spat at her. It struck the invisible cold wall dissolving into snow crystals.

 Fury twisted Elsa’s features as her hand thrusted out.

 Wind lifted Hans from his feet, slamming him into the ice gates. Before his feet touched the ground, ice spikes impaled his arm, pinning him to the wall. No match for the ice, bone shattered from wrist to shoulder.

 Hans’ scream drowned out the clatter of his sword against the stones.  

 Magic swirled around Elsa’s hand, forming into a razor-sharp ice sword. She moved to stand before him.

 Through his pain Hans mumbled something.

 “What? Speak up!” She caught his chin with the sword tip.

 His head snapped up, trying to pull away from the burning cold. “I…surrender.”

 “Surrender?” Elsa’s eyes narrowed. “No. You, don’t get to surrender.”

 “Elsa…Your Majesty,” His eyes rose, lips raising upward. What had once been a charming smile, could only be described as macabre.

 His inner monster laid bare. Elsa mused.

 Hans’ teeth began to chatter causing the sword tip to nick his skin. “People…will call you…heartless…striking down a wounded…unarmed man.” He pressed against the ice wall, unable to escape the sword.

 “You are an enemy of Arendelle, and I, it’s protector. For once in your pathetic life you will serve a useful purpose. You shall be a warning to others foolish enough to look to Arendelle for conquest. All shall know, the price for harming those under my protection will be a steep one.”

 He chuckled, it ended in a cough. The sword tip cut deeper. Blood dripped from his impaled arm, staining the stones. His teeth bared, all pretense of charm gone. “Yes, the Snow Queen…will be…feared by all. The world will remember…I alone had the courage…to challenge you!”

 Ice and wind quieted. Elsa stepped back, lowering the sword.  

 Hans’ smile slipped away. “Strike me down…Elsa. Show the world…who you really are. Even if, I can’t… take your crown, I will live on as the man…who fought the mighty Snow Queen.”

 “You’re right. If I strike you down, history will remember you for your actions here.” She shook her head, vanishing the sword in a flurry of snowflakes. “No. I’ll not give you that honor, nor will I soil my hands with your blood.”

 “No.” Blood covered fingers reached for her. They caught only air. “End this, Elsa! Here and now, on the field of battle!”

 “This battle is over, Hans. You’ve lost. You and the traitors who helped you, will pay for your crimes against Arendelle. There will be no glory in your death. It shall be common, at the end of a hangman’s noose.” She turned to walk away.

 The ice spikes vanished. Hans dropped to his knees with a sharp cry, clutching the ruined arm. Tears rolled down his cheeks. “Coward!” He spat the word at her back.

 Elsa stopped, her back stiffened.

 “You’re too weak to rule!”

 Ice formed over clenched fists.

 “Finish him off!” called a disembodied voice from the crowd.

 Murmurs of agreement joined the call.

 Hans looked to the crowd, some of his arrogance returning as the calls for his death grew louder. “You won’t do it, Elsa! You haven’t the stomach for it!”

 He paused to draw a shaky breath. Blood, sweat and tears rolled down ruined cheeks, dripping off his chin. “It takes a real leader to make the hard choices! You’re too afraid to…”

 “Enough!” With lightning speed and grace, Elsa spun, driving her fist into his face.  

 Hans’ head snapped to one side. Bone cracked under the blow. His limp body dropped face first to the ground.

 There was a collective gasp from the crowd, followed by silence.

 Elsa’s brow arched at the effectiveness of the blow. Ice vanished as she wiggled her undamaged fingers. There was a soft chuckle under her breath. “Anna’s right, that is quite satisfying.”

 “Guards! Gather the prisoners and secure them.” She turned to Halldor.

 Guardsmen and Marines sprang to action at the Queen’s command. Several townspeople stepped in to help.

 People began searching for missing loved ones in the crowd.

 “Admiral, assign some men to form teams to assist the wounded and collect the dead. See if any of the townspeople are willing to assist.”

 “Yes, ma’am.”

 Her voice lowered for only him to hear. “please see to it Hans receives medical attention. I don’t want him dying before his execution.”

 “Yes, ma’am.”

 “I want a field report from the town troops, as soon as possible, and send word of Hans’ capture to the commander of the enemy fleet. I expect his full surrender within the hour.”

 “Are there to be any terms, ma’am?”

 “If his men stand down and surrender their weapons, no harm will come to them. They shall be given enough ships and supplies for safe passage home. The rest will be surrendered to the Crown as spoils.”

 “And if they refuse, ma’am?”

 “They’ll surrender, or I’ll send them back to Lienz on an ice float.”

 “Yes, Your Majesty.” The Admiral’s mustache twitched upward. “It’s good to have you back, ma’am.”

 “Thank you, Admiral.” Her features softened into a genuine smile.

 “Elsa!”

 She spun at the familiar call. The sight of Anna cradled in Kai’s arms stole her breath away. Grace and decorum disappeared as she sprinted toward them, ignoring the aches and pains it caused. “Anna?!”

 “Put me down. Please.” Anna reached out a hand as Elsa drew closer.

 Kai gently placed her feet on the ground.

 She threw her arms around Elsa’s neck. Arms wrapped around her in a smothering embrace.

 Elsa buried her face in soft hair, reveling in the warmth radiating off Anna.

 “I searched the wall for you.” Anna whispered. “When I couldn’t find you, I…” She sucked in a sharp breath.

 “Shhh, it’s alright.” Elsa cupped the back of her head, pulling her closer. “It’s alright. I’m here now.” She pressed a kiss against Anna’s hair. “You didn’t think I’d leave you, did you?”

 “No.” Anna lied. “I knew you’d be back.” She choked on a sob, holding her tighter.

 Elsa’s eyes closed, pushing back thoughts of how close she’d come to losing everything again.

 Sniffling Anna leaned back to look her over. Eying her sister’s attire she chuckled. “You always have to make a grand entrance.”

 Elsa bit back a weepy laugh. “And you can’t keep your face clean.” She cupped a bruised cheek, rubbing away dirt and blood with her thumb. “Are you alright?”

 “I am now.” Anna relaxed, lowering her head onto an inviting shoulder, only to jerk away. “Oh, that’s cold.”

 “Sorry.”

 “Could you get rid of this?” Anna gestured to the armor.

 “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

 “Queen Elsa,” Gerda reached for Elsa’s arm, stopping short of touching it. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

 “I’m fine.” There was a twinge of disappointment when the hand pulled away. “Are you…what?!” Elsa startled as something wrapped around her leg.

 “Hi, Elsa!”

 “Olaf?!” She stroked a hand over his head. “What are you doing here?”

 “Stop that man! Protect the Queen and Princess!” Ordered Halldor.

 People scurried away from the man pushing through the crowd. The sword and pistol he carried, caused them to inch further from his path.

 Elsa twisted to face the threat. Frost etched over her raised hand. She held to Anna, keeping her close and shielded.

 “Tollak.” Muscles tightened along Elsa’s jaw, there was a slight twitch in one eye. “Stay with Kai and Gerda.” She moved to step away.

 “No, Elsa, don’t.”

 Fingers dug deep into her arm, Elsa bit back a yelp. “Anna, let go.”

 “No.” The grip tightened. “Let the guardsmen handle him.”

 “He’s mine.” Elsa pried the hands from her arm. She looked to the couple. “Keep her safe.”

 “Yes, ma’am.” They answered as one.

 “Stay with Anna, Olaf.” Not waiting for a reply, Elsa started toward Tollak.

 “Will do.” Olaf saluted, positioning himself in front of Anna.

 “Elsa, wait!” Her knee buckled as she took a step to follow.

 Kai swept her up, cradling her in his arms.

 “No! Put me down!” She stiffened, pushing against his chest to no avail.

 “Anna, be still.” Gerda slipped a protective arm around her with the gentle scolding.

 Protests died on Anna’s lips. She slumped against Kai’s chest. Her eyes never leaving Elsa.

 Admiral Halldor stepped into Tollak’s path leveling a pistol at him. “Drop your weapons.”

 Tollak pulled up short. His eyes darted over the crowd. “You won’t shoot me, Halldor.” He straightened. “I am a hero of the people.”

 “You are a traitor.” Elsa declared, stepping to Halldor’s side. Ice hesitated a moment before flooding her veins.

 Olsen appeared at her opposite side, rifle in hand.

 Elsa regarded him with a side glance, pleased to see he had survived.

 All eyes were on Tollak.

 Tollak’s features twisted into a snarl. “You dare call me a traitor, witch?”

 “Yes, I brand you a traitor. You led a rebellion against Arendelle, the Crown and your Queen. Good people have died today because of you.”

 The crowd eased in closer, angry murmurs passing among them.

 “Damn you to hell, witch!” He brought the pistol up, firing.

 Ice and lead sped toward him. Ice found him first. Lead shot, the pistol and part of Tollak’s hand froze solid.

 Howling in pain, Tollak twisted away trying to separate ice from flesh. The turn saved him from a bullet in the chest. It grazed his shoulder.

 Halldor lowered the smoking pistol, tucking it into his belt.

 With the flick of a finger, Elsa vanished the frozen pistol. Ice left Tollak’s hand, leaving curled, frostbitten fingers.

 Cursing Tollak drew the ruined hand to his chest.

 “Drop the sword.” Halldor ordered. “Or I’ll have you shot where you stand.”

 They glared at each other a moment.

 Tollak tossed the sword to the ground. His flushed face glistened with a thin layer of sweat.

 “You call me a traitor! But it was you, Halldor, who helped hide this…abomination from the people!” He waved his good hand in Elsa’s direction.

 “My father never betrayed his people.” Elsa’s stone face revealed nothing, her words strong and clear. Everyone in the courtyard shivered. “You conspired with foreign forces to place an invader upon the throne.”

 “I did what was necessary to protect the kingdom! After your true self was exposed, I knew what needed to be done.” His glare shifted to Halldor. “Unlike others, I had the courage to see it through.”

 “Courage? You attacked the Crown.” An ever so slight eye twitch betrayed Elsa’s anger.

 “It was my duty!” He took a step forward. Several rifles leveled at him, stopping him cold. “Prince Hans wasn’t a perfect replacement, but anything was better than a witch upon the throne!”

 Elsa stiffened.  

 “I knew we had to strike hard and fast. You would never expect him to return so soon. Once Lienz agreed to help I began gathering men I could trust. Men who had no stomach for serving a witch.”

 Muscles quivered along Elsa’s jawline. “You allowed people to die, just to destroy me?”

 “The casualties of war.” His gaze drifted over the crowd. Angry faces glared back. “Their sacrifices were unfortunate, but necessary. They couldn’t see you for what you are?”

 “What am I, Tollak?” Elsa’s eyes narrowed. “What do you see when you look at me?”

 “An abomination against nature, a monster…a harbinger of death! You use magic as if it were a toy, charming the people with your tricks. While they forget you nearly killed them with it! Look at you,” He made a sweeping motion toward her. “Your very appearance is a mockery to the throne!”

 A delicate eyebrow arched, the only visible effect of his words. “I maybe an abomination, a freak of nature, but I am not the bearer of death. Yesterday, I battled thirty thousand men, driving the enemy from our land without taking a single life. How many have died today because of you Tollak?” She slowly stepped toward him as she spoke. Halldor and Olsen kept pace with her. The air grew cooler with each step.

 Her emotional facade began to crack. “How many has your war taken? How many soldiers and sailors fell today? How many innocent lives have you destroyed?!” Her body trembled as she drew a breath to steady her rage. “I am many things, Tollak. But, I am not the deliverer of death. I save that title, for you.”

 His face flushed scarlet, fists clutched as he glared at her.

 Elsa didn’t flinch under his gaze. Frost coated her palms, melting before the next wave replaced it.

 Tollak spun to face the crowd. “Listen to me!” He pointed to Elsa. “This, woman, will be the death of you!”

 “Enough!” Admiral Halldor took a step forward, reaching for his sword.

 Elsa raised a hand to silence him. “Let him speak.”

 “Your Majesty, I don’t think…” He swallowed the protest as dark blue eyes glared at him.

 Elsa gestured to the crowd. “You have the ear of the people, Colonel. Speak.”

 Tollak’s eye twitched as he turned to the crowd. “Friends, you know me. I have spent my life defending Arendelle. Come, join me. Together we can destroy her. Look, she’s been weakened.” He pointed to Elsa. “Can you not see the fatigue in her stance? The way she struggles to stand tall?”

 Elsa felt all eyes turn toward her. She didn’t look away from Tollak.

 Anna stretched forward, straining for a clear view of her sister.

 Tollak approached one of the Marines, wagging a finger at Elsa. “Do you not see the blood seeping from beneath her armor? If she can be hurt, she can be destroyed.”

 Elsa fought the urge to touch the wound. From the corner of her eyes she saw Halldor glance down and frown.

 The Marine turned and walked away from Tollak without a word.

 “Sergeant,” Tollak grabbed Halvor’s arm. “Gather your men, stand with me!”

 “My men are dead, Colonel. They stood, fought, and died honoring their oath.” He pushed Tollak away, moving to stand at Elsa’s side.

 “Are there none among you, with the courage to stand up to this witch!”

 “My sister is not a witch!” Anna struggled to free herself. “Put me down!”

 Kai caught the slight head shake from his Queen. He moved forward several steps, refusing to release his charge.

 “You are blind to this demon’s true nature, Your Highness!” There was a hint of pity in Tollak’s voice.

 Anna mumbled something about breaking his nose. Her efforts to free herself ended with a frustrated growl. Winded she slumped against Kai  

 “Rubbish!” Gerda hurried to Elsa, pulling the bundle from her pocket. “Queen Elsa is no demon or witch.” She held the bundle out to Elsa, unwrapping the cloth to reveal the disk.

 Elsa fought the urge to pull back from the shining metal. With a trembling hand she reached to replace the cloth.

 Gerda placed the bundle in the outstretched hand. She cradled Elsa’s hand between her own, holding her gaze. “You’re safe now, My Lady.”

 The rigid set of Elsa’s jaw eased into a warm smile. “Thank you, Gerda.”

 “Damn you, woman!” Tollak started forward only to pull up short as several swords joined the rifles leveled at him. “You have betrayed us all! Even now you protect her, while handing over the means of our destruction!”

 Shoulders squared, Gerda fixed him with a glare. “I have protected her since her first breath, and I will continue to protect her till I draw my last.”

 “I’ll gladly rid you of that breath.” Tollak snarled.

 Elsa stepped between them, shielding Gerda, as she raised a hand toward Tollak. “Touch her, and you’ll feel the true wrath of the Snow Queen.”

 Tollak drew back a step, muscles along his jaw flexed. “Now, not only do you have the power of ice, but fire. We are slaves to this unholy monster!”

 Elsa looked to the crowd. Fear and uncertainty shown on far too many of the faces staring back. Several parents pulled their children closer. Her heart sank. Do they really think me a monster?

 Lost in her mental battle, Elsa failed to notice the lack of snowflakes such feelings usually brought. No telltale signs of frost appeared.

 “Tollak is right about one thing. With this weapon, I would have the power to control fire and ice.” She paused staring at the disk.

 There could be only one solution. Her heart cracked. It’s the only way. Braced for what was to come, Elsa faced her people.

 “I am your Queen. You have placed your loyalty and trust in me.” Her gaze passed over each face as she spoke. “As your Queen, I will lead, and ask that you follow. But, I will not have you follow me out of fear. Your choice must be made freely.”

 Careful to keep the cloth between metal and skin, Elsa held the disk up, turning to allow all to see it. “You’ve seen the power of this weapon. Anyone who yields it, holds the power to destroy me.” She stepped to Bishop Solberg, and held it out. “Take it.”

 He looked from Elsa to the disk and back. “Why?”

 “You are a man of God. If they truly believe me to be a witch, or demon, then it is by your hand that I should be judged.” She pressed the bundle into his hands, before stepping back. Her arms dropped to her sides.

 “What? Elsa, no!” Anna began to struggle.

 Kai held her tighter.

 Laughter silenced the crowd’s murmurs. Were it not for his ruined hand, Tollak would have clapped. “You expect us to believe, you would allow yourself to be destroyed?”

 Elsa didn’t take her eyes from Solberg. “I will accept Bishop Solberg’s decision without question.” She went to one knee, bowing her head. Please, forgive me, Anna.

 A collective gasp rose from the crowd.

 “Elsa! No! Leave her alone!” Arms and legs flailed about as Anna attempted to free herself. “Let me go!”

 Kai took the blows, refusing to release her. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I can’t do that.”

 Gerda stepped toward Elsa with an outstretched hand. “My Lady, no.”

 Halvor caught her arm, holding her back, with a small shake of his head.

 Biting back a sob, she turned away, hurrying to comfort Anna.

 “Elsa! Don’t do this!” Tears streamed down Anna’s cheeks, fueling her frantic efforts to reach her sister. “Please! Please, don’t!”

 “Your Majesty, please…” Halldor stepped toward her.

 “Everyone stay back!” Elsa called over her shoulder, fearful she’d meet Anna’s gaze if she turned.

 Strong arms wrapped around Anna, engulfing her in the familiar scent of lemon and rosewood. She found no comfort in it.

 “Shhh…have faith and be strong, my dear.” There was a quiver in Gerda’s voice as she stroked Anna’s hair, closing her eyes against fresh tears.

 “No!” Anna continued to struggle, unable to free herself from the couple’s embrace.

 The crowd stirred with unease as Anna’s sobs and pleas grew louder.

 Unfazed by Anna’s cries, Tollak eased toward the Bishop. “Hagan, surely you can see the danger in this…witch. Stand with me. If you lead the people will follow. You have the power to stop her. Use it! Free us of this monster, once and for all!”

 Admiral Halldor stepped forward. “Hagan, she is our Queen. You know her heart is pure.”

 Solberg looked from the young woman kneeling before him to the setting sun. He closed his eyes in silent prayer.

 Anna’s pleas turned to strangled sobs.

 I’ve hurt her again. Unable to will away Anna’s cries, Elsa squeezed her eyes shut. Fingernails sank deep into the soft flesh of her palms. Her fists drew tighter, causing the knuckles to whiten. Oh God, please let it end.

 “Nooo!” Small shoes slapped against the courtyard stones.

 Startled by the cry, Elsa raised her head. Her eyes opened to a blur of pigtails. The blur landed atop her, she rocked back from the impact. Arms and legs wrapped around her in a death grip. Cheeks wet with tears buried against her neck. “Sara?”

 “Little one, you shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.” Despite the gentle scolding, Elsa wrapped the child in a smothering embrace. She closed her eyes against fresh tears. “Go to your mother.”

 “No.” The child held tighter.

 Elsa felt another hand on her shoulder. “Katrina, take your sister.”

 The girl shook her head no, wrapping her arms around them.

 Other children darted from the crowd, ignoring their parent’s calls to return. Soon Elsa was surrounded by a wall of children as they crowded in to hug her.

 They don’t fear me. After everything, they don’t fear me. Elsa’s heart sang at the thought, unable to hold back a sob as the smaller children piled upon her.

 The older ones formed a tight circle around the Queen, facing outward, daring any to draw closer.

 Unchecked tears slipped down Anna’s cheeks. She grew quiet, watching more children join the circle.  

 “There is the true army of the mighty Snow Queen.” Gerda whispered.

 “Indeed.” Kai nodded.

 Sara brushed a hand over Elsa’s face, smearing tears over a bruised cheek. “Don’t cry, Queen Elsa. It’s okay. We won’t let him hurt you.”

 An emotional laugh slipped Elsa’s lips. “Thank you, little one.” She cupped the back of the child’s head, pulling her closer.

 “Is this what you want?!” Tollak’s face blazed blood red as he spat the words. “Your children, worshiping this monster!”

 “Stop calling her that!” Katrina straightened, her little fists clenched. Cheeks flushed bright red. “She’s not a monster!”

 Elsa caught her arm, giving her a gentle shake. “Sweetheart, don’t.”

 Tears flowed down the child’s cheeks. “You’re not a monster! You’re not!”

 “Shhh, it’s alright. Don’t listen to him.” Elsa pulled her back into the embrace.

 Katrina held tight, crying and chanting. “You’re not a monster.”

 One of the young orphan boys stepped from the circle to face Solberg. He had to tilt his head upward to meet the older man’s gaze. “You can’t hurt her, Bishop sir. We won’t let you.” His small hands clenched into tight fists.

 Solberg fought back a smile at the child’s defiance. “From the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise because of your enemies, to silence the foe and the avenger.” He offered the boy a sad smile. “Come children, it is time to go back to your parents.”

 The children didn’t yield.

 “I love you all very much.” Elsa’s gaze drifted over the children as she spoke. “But, you can’t stay with me. Please, the Bishop is right, you must go back to your families. Viktoria?”

 She appeared from the crowd. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

 “See to the orphans, please.”

 “Yes, ma’am.” With a curtesy she began gathering the children.

 “No, we want to stay with you.” Protested one of the older boys.

 “I know, and I thank you for your loyalty. As your Queen, it is time to obey my wishes.” Elsa held his gaze.

 His lower lip began to quiver. He bowed to her. “Yes, ma’am.” Wiping at his eyes, he helped Viktoria gather the children.

 The smaller children hugged Elsa before scurrying back into the crowd.

 Only Sara and Katrina remained.

 Elsa kissed each on the cheek. “Go to your mother.”

 Both girls mumbled, no, refusing to release her.

 “Go now, it’ll be alright.” She gently pushed them away, regretting the false promise.

 Katrina took Sara’s hand. “Come on.”

 “Bye, Snow Queen.” Sara gave a little wave as her sister led her away.

 “Goodbye, little one.” Elsa remained on her knees, watching them run to their mother.

 Brigit pulled the girls to her. She gave a slight nod to the Queen, turned her daughters away and disappeared into the crowd.

 Elsa looked skyward. A gentle oceans breeze passed over tear stained cheeks. Her eyes closed, savoring the gentle caress. “The sun is sinking, Bishop. It’s time to decide.”

 Silence filled the courtyard. Far overhead, gulls called to each other. Faint burst of gunfire could be heard from the town.

 “When princess Elsa was only a few weeks old, the King and Queen brought her to the chapel. They informed me the Princess had been born with a, unique, gift.” His lips tugged upward at the memory.  

 “As I said the first of many blessings over her, she laughed and cooed. Little snowflakes drifted from her hands as she reached for my cross.”

 Elsa’s shoulders shook, she bit back a weepy chuckle.

 “I do not know why Queen Elsa was born with these powers, but, I do believe they are a divine gift. And for any man to destroy such a gift would be a sin against the Almighty.” He held out a hand to her. “Rise Queen Elsa, you have nothing to fear from me.”

 Elsa’s eyes rose to meet his. Her hand trembled as she took the offered hand and stood.

 “Your Majesty.” He bowed to her.

 Fresh tears slid unchecked down her cheeks. “Thank you, Bishop.”

 “You sentimental, old fool.” Tollak turned once more to the crowd. “Either stand with me! Or get on your knees before your, Snow Queen!”

 Murmurs passed through the crowd.

 Elsa’s heart skipped a beat. She held her breath.

 “Let me through!” A large man pushed his way to the front of the crowd. Elsa recognized him as the dock worker from the bakery, Geir. She braced herself for what was to come.

 He stopped, drew to his full height, looking her square in the eye. Taking a step forward, he dropped to one knee. His head bowed. “My Queen.”

 Viktoria stepped forward and knelt. “My Queen.” Behind her the orphans knelt with a call to their Queen.

 Throughout the crowd more people knelt, calling their allegiance.

 Olsen helped Admiral Halldor bent the knee, before kneeling beside him.

 Elsa turned in a slow circle watching as her people knelt. Tears of joy clouded her vision. Within a moment, only Anna, Gerda, Kai, Tollak and the Bishop remained standing.

 Kai carefully sat Anna on her feet. He and Gerda knelt swearing they loyalty.

 Anna braced a hand on Kai’s shoulder for support. She smiled at Elsa. “I think you have your answer, Tollak.”

 Tollak’s eyes narrowed, settling on Anna. “I could have made you a Queen. You just needed to learn your place.”

 Anna limped forward several steps, reaching out to Olaf. “The Queen’s crown is not yours to give.”

 Olaf hurried to take her hand, supporting her as they moved toward Elsa.

 “And I know my place.” She avoided Elsa’s attempt to reach for her, making her way to the Bishop.

 He caught her hand, steadying her as she turned to face Elsa.

 “It’s at my sister’s side.” With Solberg and Olaf’s help she knelt.

 “Anna, no, please,” Elsa shook her head, reaching for her. “You don’t have to kneel to me.”

 “Yes, I do, My Queen.” Ignoring the offered hand, Anna bowed her head.

 Tears rolled down Elsa’s cheeks. Her lip quivered as she stroked a hand over soft red hair. Joy sent her heart racing. “The people have spoken, Tollak.”

 “Fools!” He snarled at the crowd. “You deserve to die!” He lunged for the dropped sword.

 Several guardsmen and Marines tackled him before he could reach it. After a brief struggle, they drug him to his feet.

 Dazed he swayed back and forth in their grasp. Blood trickled down his face from various wounds.

 With Tollak contained, Elsa turned to her people. Warmth and love threatened to overwhelm her. “You have my word, I will do everything in my power to be a Queen worthy of your trust.”

 “All hail, Queen Elsa!” called Olsen.

 “Hail, Queen Elsa!” The crowd cheered.

 “All hail, the Snow Queen.” Called Olsen.

 “Hail, the Snow Queen!” The crowd cheered, coming to their feet.

 Elsa and the Bishop helped Anna up.

 “All hail Princess Anna!” called Viktoria.

 “Wait, what? No, I don’t…”

 “Hail Princess Anna!” The crowd responded.

 “All hail Princess Anna, the Brave Hearted!” Viktoria thrust a fist into the air.

 “Hail Princess Anna, the Brave Hearted!” Cried the crowd, clapping and cheering.

 Anna leaned into Elsa, wrapping both arms around her waist. “What did they call me?”

 “What you are, dear sister. Brave of heart.” She kissed the side of Anna’s head, holding her close. Elsa spied Tollak glaring at her as the guards led him away. She pulled Anna into a hug, resting her head on an inviting shoulder. It was soft and warm. She snuggled in closer. Her eyes drifted closed.

 “I’m angry at you.” Anna whispered, pressing her face into Elsa’s hair.

 “I promise, I’ll let you yell at me later.”

 “I’m holding you to that.” Anna relaxed into the embrace. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

 “Sorry.” She held Anna a little tighter.

 “Your Majesty.” Admiral Halldor soft spoken words were tempting to ignore. “I’m sorry to intrude, but we need to send soldiers to clear the town.”

 “That’s fine.” Elsa replied without lifting her head.

 Admiral Halldor cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, we need you to open the gates and remove the ice blockades on the bridge.”

 Elsa sighed, opening an eye to glare at him.

 “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

 The regret in his voice was so genuine she almost felt guilty for being annoyed, almost. She raised her head, pulling back from Anna.

 “Very well.”

 “Your Majesty,” Gerda appeared at Elsa’s side. “Someone needs to check the tunnels. I sent Margit and Frode to secure the door.”

 “I’ll go.” Viktoria stepped forward.

 “No, the orphans need you.” Elsa dismissed her with a shake of her head.

 “Elsa,” Anna touched her arm. “Let her go. Margit will trust her.”

 Her head tilted slightly at the request. Something else they would need to discuss at another time. “Fine. Admiral send Viktoria and a team of men to secure the tunnels. Gerda will you please find someone to watch over the orphans?”

 “Of course, ma’am.”

 “I’ll get the men ready.” Halldor excused himself.

 “Sergeant Halvor.” Elsa motioned to him.

 He stepped to attention. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

 “Please carry Princess Anna to her chambers. Gerda will escort you.”

 “What? No!” Anna pulled away as he reached for her. “I’m not leaving you, Elsa.” She took a step, collapsing against Elsa as her leg buckled.

 Catching her, Elsa bit back a grunt, pain throbbed in her side. In all the excitement she’d almost forgotten the wound. “Anna, you can’t stand.”

 “I want to help.”

 “You can, by doing as I ask.” Elsa stroked her cheek, careful of the dark bruise covering it. “Knowing you’re being cared for is one less thing I have to worry about.”

 Anna’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Fine. But you need to see the doctor.”

 “I will.”

 “Once you finish clearing the bridge?” Anna pressed.

 “Once I’m sure we’re safe.” Elsa motioned to Halvor. “Now, go.”

 Anna squared her shoulders. “You can’t just order me to my room.”

 “Yes, I can.” Elsa’s features broke into a soft smile. She took Anna’s face in both hands. “I’m the Queen.” She pulled her forward, placing a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll see you soon.”

 Reluctantly, Anna allowed Halvor to pick her up.

 “Don’t worry, ma’am. I’ll see to it she stays put.” Gerda turned to follow them.

 “Thank you, Gerda.”

 “I’ll stay with her, Elsa.”

 “Thanks, Olaf.” She kissed the top of his head, before he skipped away.

 Anna watched her over Halvor’s shoulder, till they passed through the castle doors.

 As Anna disappeared, Elsa released a heavy sigh bowing her head.

 “Queen Elsa, are you alright?” She startled at the soft whisper near her ear.

 Kai leaned back, eying her.

 “For the moment. Have someone bring up my horse.”

 “Yes, ma’am.”

 With some effort she straightened. “Come along, gentlemen. Let’s open the gates.”

 She missed the shared look between Kai and Olsen. The men trailed after her.  

 Author’s note — For those of you who may be wondering. The Bishop was quoting the Bible. (Psalm 8:2) From the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise because of your enemies, to silence the foe and the avenger.

 *No, I didn’t kill Hans. No, I’m not through tormenting him or Tollak.

#Daughters of Arendelle #elsa #anna #snow sisters

[buckymcbuttfacebarnes]

Stargazers

pairing: cable (nathan summers) x reader

word count: 1105

summary: stargazing with nathan

warnings: implied sexual activities lmao

a/n: im just gonna say it, i am a slut for cable! if yall got any requests send them my way pleathe and thank u

my other fics

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Nathan’s head was tilted upwards towards the sky, he was admiring the twinkling stars. You were supposed to be doing the same, but for a reason you could not name it seemed that his beauty demanded your attention. Your eyes skimmed over the softened features of his face. His heavy brow, dark eyelashes. His eyes matched the stars in their gleaming beauty...even in the dark you could see that. Your gaze skipped across his cheekbones to the salt and pepper stubble dabbled across the lower half of his face. A faint shadow marked the gentle rounding of his chin, the soft dip of his cupid’s bow. All of it came together to form the face of the man that you were so deeply enamored with. He looked to you with a crooked smirk.

“If you keep lookin’ at me like that, Y/N...I don’t know what I’ll do.” In his eyes you saw the wicked glint of mischief. He never failed to bring that abashed heat to your face and butterflies to your stomach.

“Like what?” Your tone mocked innocence. He rolled his eyes and inhaled deeply. A warm breeze blew a silver strand of hair from his forehead.

“Like you wanna kiss me,” he mused after a pause, making obnoxious kissing noises. “Or suck the head off my dick. Hard to tell.”

Playfully, you shoved him. He teetered dramatically before he leaned back on his hands, the grass soft beneath his one flesh palm.

“That could’ve been cute, but you ruined it.”

“Was it the dick comment? You know, I knew it was too much when I said it,” he remarked sarcastically, a chuckle falling from his lips.

“You’ve been hanging out with Wade too much.” You sent him a withering look.  “I don’t like this,” you decided, frowning.

“You’ve actually got to look at the sky once to decide you don’t like it. If you’d quit lookin’ at me with those fucking goo goo eyes, you’d actually see that this is nice.”

“Can’t help it.”

“I know, I know,” he began in that husky voice of his, “It’s gotta be hard on you, being with someone this good looking.”

You ignored him. “Stargazing is fucking boring.” You pushed yourself up from your sitting position, dusting loose pieces of grass from your legs. “I’m going back inside.”

He grunted and caught you by your wrist before you could walk past him. “You’re gonna sit here,” he tugged you down to him so you were bent at the waist, eyes nearly level with his, “and enjoy this with me.”

When you frowned he continued to speak. “I sit through so much of whatever bullshit you like to watch and the fucking music you listen to, God,” he sounded pained just thinking about it. “The least you could do is humor me with this. So come on, sit down.”

Reluctantly you sat down between his legs, back coming to rest against his chest. “Atta girl,” he hummed, sounding appeased as he leaned back on his hands and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

You crossed your arms over your chest as you sent your gaze upwards to the sky, embossed with its billions of stars. You had to admit that it was pretty, but how long could you really look at stars until it felt like you were looking at the same thing over and over again?

After a few moments of silence, only filled by the gentle sound of wind-rustled leaves, you asked, “Know any constellations?”

“I know ‘em all.”

“Show me some.”

“Look that way,” his flesh hand lifted to point to a cluster of stars in your eyeline. “You see that little group right there? Next to that really bright star? That’s the little dipper.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he nodded. “And that right there, that’s scorpius. That over there is cassiopeia.”

You squinted your eyes, nose wrinkling as you stared up at the sky. One of his stars was moving. You twisted to look at him, unable to hide your amusement. “That’s a plane, dumbass,” you laughed. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, do you?”

His brows furrowed and his chest inflated as he prepared his defense. “You’re the dumbass that believed me.”

“You’re the dumbass who couldn’t keep up the lie for more than thirty seconds.”

He frowned, his jaw wound tight as he grit his teeth. “What the fuck was I supposed to do?” he asked. You could feel the hostility in the way his entire body seemed to tense up. It only made you grin grow in size. “You were pouting like a fucking brat.”

Though you bit down on your lower lip, it did nothing at all to conceal your amusement. He was growing more annoyed by the second, even as you turned all the way around to face him completely he regarded you with a look of impatience, his hands remained behind him. You placed each knee outside of his legs, settling onto his lap. All the while you hadn’t managed to wipe that look off of your face. It had morphed into something like smugness.

“You make it so easy for me, you know that?” You laughed. Nathan was, by far, the easiest target in the X-Mansion. He was so easy to tease because he was so impatient. Even with you he grew snappy rather quickly.

“Get off,” he said shortly, ignoring the hot kisses you’d begun to press along his throat. “I’m going inside.”

“Oh my God,” you tittered, placing your hands on his shoulders, running them along his chest. “You sound like the bratty one now.”

“Y/N,” he warned, “I’m not in the mood for your shit. Get off.”

You smirked nefariously, dipping your head again to press open mouthed kisses to his neck. “Or what, Nate?”

Beneath you he tensed, that had done it. He hated when you called him Nate. You gasped. He had you on your back in the flash of a moment and he hovered over you. He smiled darkly and you caught your lip between your teeth as you stared up at him expectantly, heart thrumming in your chest. You knew what was coming, you liked when he was worked up like this. He was rougher that way.

He hooked an eager finger into the waistband of your bottoms as he leaned down to meet your lips in a hungry kiss. Beneath your hands you felt the shift of the strong muscles of his back, your fingers clawed at his shirt. You were breathing heavy when his lips left yours.

“Baby,” you whined breathlessly, “I’m gonna get grass in my hair.”

He grunted in response as he moved his kisses downwards, fingers tugging at your bottoms now. “Should’ve thought of that before you called me Nate.”

#cable x reader #cable x you #nathan summers x reader #nathan summers #cable #nathan summers imagine #cable imagine #deadpool #deadpool imagine #deadpool 2 #marvel imagine

[rebelliousties]

#「 music. 」 ⇀ tuning in the world . #「 musings. 」 ⇀ gentle breeze ; withering leaves in the wind . #// ...... dont look at me i need this here

[thehouseofsilverthorn]

The Blessing & the Curse

  Here we are again, thought the Matriarch. She cast her gaze around, taking in the mist gently rising from the lake to the west, the swirled spiral pattern in the grass here just outside the village. We seem to be favoring this place for our happier moments.  I suppose we could do worse, she mused, smiling inwardly. She looked over the glade one last time, reassuring herself that all was ready. At the heart of the spiral the font had been set and filled with water taken from the moonwell to the north, near the Temple. The blessed water glowed faintly in the twilight. For the tenth time at least she smoothed the fabric of her gold and ivory dress. Why am I so nervous today, she wondered, this is a happy occasion. Shaking her head, she took her place at the font, there to await her gathered House.

  From the south she saw him approach, her grandson, the demon hunter Forosuul. Arrayed in a formal kilt, chest bared to the wind as was the ancient way of their kind, as well as his wont. He drew near and nodded to her, saying softly, “The glade is warded all ‘round. We’ll not be getting surprise visitors today.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “If someone uninvited crosses my wards, I’ll know immediately, Grandmother”

  “Good.”  She felt a little paranoid, having him ward the entire glade, but their rivals had been shown to have little restraint. They’d come uninvited to a funeral rite, no reason to think they would not do the same for a blessing of newborn twins.

  Forosuul stepped to one side to await the rest of the House. They did not wait long. The path from the village was soon full of silver-haired figures. No retainers today, only family; a sea of palest violet and silver, the only exception was Lilybeth, mother of the twins. She proceeded all the rest, her cyan hair falling in gentle curls around her shoulders. On each arm rested one of her infant children; the boy, Ælithil, on her left, his sister Kalimè on the right. She walked slowly, still recovering from the ordeal of the twin birth. The rest of the House let her set the pace.

  The sun had gone far below the horizon by the time everyone was ready. They arrayed themselves in a close circle about the font, Kalithil and Lilybeth holding the infant twins on either side. Everyone was smiling. As Kajeda gently sprinkled the blessed water over the twins, Tindomiel and Alsabe chanted the invocation of Elune, asking her blessing and protection on the new generation of the Silverthorn line. Their words carried gently on the night breeze.

Elune, goddess of our home, Goddess of our hearth, We bring tonight new things New members of our line, In these lands, From which we spring. We ask you, Elune, to watch over them Watch over them as they grow. Watch over them as they live. Watch over them with love.

  When the prayer and the anointing was done, Alsabe took the twins, grinning hugely and bouncing them in her arms. Tindomiel, smiling beatifically, took her place next to her husband, Forosuul, while Kalithil and Lilybeth turned to the assembled House to say their thanks. Kajeda watched it all, thinking to herself that she had not experienced a more perfect moment in thousands of years.

  From the corner of her eye, Kajeda saw Forosuul’s head whip around, towards the south. His tattoos surged with power, casting a red glare over the assembled House, and in a flash of crimson he had dashed away. Kajeda, trusting him to deal with any intrusion, moved to shield Lilybeth and the twins.

  Lilybeth, more sensitive to arcane emanations than most, had felt a strange buzzing sensation at the same moment when Forosuul had turned his head. Ever curious, she had turned, and seeing Kajeda move swiftly in her direction, leaned to one side to see what was happening.

  It seemed to Kajeda that she could hear the wind in her ears, as if the fates were howling their hunger at her. Everything seemed to move slowly. She could see Lilybeth go wide-eyed at what she witnessed, could see the girl’s face twist into an expression of hatred mixed with grief. Turning, she saw the source of Lilybeth’s rage. Mire, with her shal’dorei felsworn in tow. Briefly, the single thought crossed her mind, You fools, why would you come here, and then she felt, deep in her bones, a crackling sensation like the gathering of a thousand storms.

  There was a blinding flash followed by a searing heat, and most of the assembled House was thrown violently to the ground. Kajeda, shaking her head to clear it, saw Lilybeth standing over her, limned in violet flames. Thrusting her hands forward, Lilybeth poured every ounce of power she could manage at the woman responsible for her mother’s death. Mire’s felsworn shielded her, causing Lilybeth’s furious magic to careen around the glade, consigning every tree and blade of grass to the flame. Lilybeth, screaming in rage, poured power through her outstretched hands until her weary body could take no more, and collapsed. Kajeda scrambled to her feet, trying to assess the situation.

  To her left, one of the felsworn had ceased his efforts. His body was rising into the air as a ghastly wail tore from his lips. His eyes began to glow like coals. Kajeda smiled grimly, knowing Kalithil had regained his feet and was dealing with the man. Behind her, Dæsin had shielded Alsabe and the twins from the initial release of power, but was now lying dazed as Alsabe protected the infants. Forosuul had used his fel-spawned abilities to careen across the glade, but was battered aside by one of the felsworn and slammed into the burning trunk of a great tree, stunning him momentarily.

  In that moment, the shal’dorei, no doubt believing he could provide cover to himself and his mistress and make an escape, chose to go on the offensive. Extending a withered hand, he let fly a train of green sorcerous bolts towards Alsabe and the infants she carried. Reacting with protective instinct, Kajeda flung herself in the path of the bilious darts.

  The pain was indescribable as the bolts tore through her midsection. She fell to her side on the scorched ground with an unceremonious thud, the fel magic eating at her insides. She watched the scene before her curiously, as if she could not quite understand what was happening. Silannah, her treasure, roared when Kajeda was struck. She charged across the burning glade, heedless of any danger.  The felsworn used his power to batter her to one side as he had done to Forosuul before. She tumbled across the clearing. With the felsworn focussed on her for a moment, Forosuul leapt into the air and let the fel within him come forth, transfiguring his features into a hulking, scaly abomination. He came crashing down on the felsworn’s head. Lifting the shal’dorei up, he brutally impaled him on his ancient warblades. He stood like that for what seemed like ages. Arms high in the air, the shal’dorei wriggling atop the blades Forosuul held. The creature’s blood was dripping onto Forosuul’s face and he was speaking to the felsworn through gritted teeth. His words were lost in the conflagration.

  Behind her, she heard a wailing cry begin.  It rose in volume and pitch, becoming a cacophonous howl. She was having trouble with her eyes, darkness creeping in from the edges of her vision, but she thought she saw her beloved daughter, Tindomiel, step forward. The howl was coming from her. Void power more potent than anything Kajeda had ever seen pooled at the younger woman’s feet and snaked across the burning glade towards Mire, who stood wide-eyed, in a panic over the fury she had engendered.

  As the shadows reached Mire they formed themselves into writhing tendrils and wrapped around her. Their tips bore into her flesh, burrowing down to her bones.  Soon Tindomiel’s howls of rage were joined by Mire’s screams of terror and agony. Mire’s eyes looked to Tindomiel, pleading for mercy from her one-time daughter. Tindomiel’s answer was a savage shriek. Slowly Tindomiel used her shadow tendrils to rend her birth mother’s body. Asked later, no one was sure how long it had lasted, for they had all turned their faces from the horror of it. When Tindomiel was done several slabs of bloody abused flesh struck the floor of the glade. Mire Whisperwind, Second of the House of Whisperwind, was no more.

  Soon the clamor of the sorcerous battle faded, leaving only the roar of the flames and the weeping of the survivors. Dæsin and Tellanon, remarkably cool-headed, regained their feet and began to gather everyone up to flee before authorities could arrive.

  Silannah, ignoring everyone else, gathered up Kajeda’s broken form and staggered away from the glade, trying to leave the fires behind. Afterwards she could never tell how long she walked, but she did not stop until she had reached green spaces once more. Some instinct or ancestral memory must have guided her steps, for when she slumped to the ground with Kajeda in her arms, she looked up and saw a thick-trunked tree with white bark and silver-blue leaves arching over them. On every branch wicked gray thorn sprouted, some a foot long.

 “A silverthorn…tree,” wheezed her beloved Kajeda. “How…did you find one? I thought they…died out.”

 Shocked that the Matriarch still lived, Silannah answered, “Hush, my love, it doesn’t matter.  Just stay with me.”

  Kajeda reached up weakly, her hand caressing Silannah’s cheek, “My treasure…my…shining gift, my magic spell…” Weeping with abandon, Silannah pulled her lover close, unable to find words. “My treasure…you are the greatest joy…”  Kajeda’s words were interrupted by a fit of racked coughing.  When the last spasm died, she did not draw breath again.

  Wailing inconsolably, Silannah rocked her back and forth for a very long time. When finally she relented, she laid her beloved out at the base of the silverthorn tree. Gathering stones from all about, she made a cairn over her body. She worked far into the following day. When the labor was done, she knelt next to the cairn. She stayed there for days, praying quietly through her tears.  At the end she stood, and said only these words: “I am no treasure.  I am a curse.”

#night elf #night elves #kaldorei #House of Silverthorn #thehouseofsilverthorn #WRA RP #OC #World of Warcraft #Warcraft Roleplay #warcraft rp #world of warcraft rp #warcraft oc #oc rp #Original Work #original writing

[rebelliousties]

Can you even scream the dreams you swore would never go out? Who was the one who let my hopes just curl up die? Hey, who could it be? No, it's gotta be... Just open up your eyes, why don't you grow up and see? But what the hell is "growing up" and tell me when will I be? Can a single person out there just explain it to me? Hey, just tell me how It's not like I care now!

#「 musings. 」 ⇀ gentle breeze ; withering leaves in the wind . #// ACTUALLY I'M PUTTING THIS OUT HERE FIRST TOO #perish