#Flicker Free LED Ceiling Light

[lunarxcity]

Why Fight? (Part XI to Why Me?)

Azriel x rhys sister! reader!

angst/eventual comfort (When Azriel's brush with death has him meeting some interesting individuals lol)

Summary: When you walk in on Azriel and Elain the mating bond snaps leading you to flee to Autumn with Eris so you can be free of Azriel. Your absence causes Azriel to come to some drastic realisations, but is it already too late and has your time in Autumn led to you moving on?

Parts I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, and X if you missed them!

-

Azriel didn't know where he was. The last thing he remembered was that he was wounded and it was bad and he needed to see you before the injury took him. He remembers you running to him, his body giving out from the pain and then darkness.

This was not the darkness he was accustomed to, the darkness of his shadows and the darkness that usually cloaks him in the night. This darkness was a wave taking him under he had no control to fight against it's current.

His memory was hazy and he couldn't feel his body, but he did feel the faint flicker of your bond in his chest. He woke up and was blinded by a bright light white unlike anything he had ever seen. The ceiling, the floors, everything was pristine white, bathed in a radiating glow.

Azriel was waiting for his shadows to scan the surroundings when he realised he couldn't hear them. He shot up and frantically searched his shoulders when he realised that they were no longer with him.

Where was he, and what is this place? He got up and walked forward. The room seemed like it was a shaped like cube, but moving only a few steps hade made Azriel feel as if he had gone through a tunnel.

The magic here was unlike anything he had ever felt. He zones back in to see two individuals, a man and a woman, sitting at a table in front of a shimmering crystalline chessboard.

There was something about them that seemed almost ethereal. The woman was almost iridescent; she had a magnificent halo of lavender, blues, and a sea green surrounding her. She had the divine beauty of a sunset in a way that suggested that she was much more than human or fae.

If she was the sunset, the man across from her was the equally dazzling sunrise. His halo of pinks, oranges, and gold surrounds his equally beautiful and ethereal self.

From the power emanating from them alone, Azriel knew that they had to be some higher entity. In a voice as calm as a summer's breeze the woman goes, "Come Azriel. Please sit."

The woman waves her hand, and an empty chair appears at the table. Azriel complies feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. He doesn't remember ever seeing this woman before, but there is something about her energy that makes him swear they have encountered each other before.

She gives him a comforting smile, "It's good to see you, even if it's much sooner than I would have liked. You have always been one of my stubbornest you know, which is why I had to match you with someone who could equally match your stubbornness with their own."

She looks at the man, and a look of fondness and reminiscence flashes between them. Azriel was good at piecing these things together, he was the spymaster for a reason, but every logical bone in his body was fighting the conclusion he was coming to.

"You're the Mother?" He asks skeptically.

She gives him a warm smile and a nod. "In the flesh- Well in the whatever manifestation I am taking in order to not freak you out too much."

He looks over to the man, "And you are?"

Fate was a rather prideful being but when you are with the Mother you kind of take a backseat and while he did harbor some resentment at the beginning of their relationship, he now harbors a certain pride with being able to craft mortal fates. While the mother does get most of the credit he enjoys working with her too much to overshadow her.

"Fate at your service." He tips his fat, which had just appeared out of nowhere seemingly for the sole reason that he could tip it.

Azriel was losing his mind. First, the Mother and now Fate, what's next luck?

"Lucky isn't around much, believe it or not, he is not the biggest fan of losing. His 1000 year ban from game night expires next fall."

Azriel is dumbfounded. The deities that are the puppet masters, pulling the strings of the very life he knows, have a game night. Mother above, well Mother in front of him and they can read his thoughts.

"Yes we can. Now, it's time for the important stuff-"

The Mother cuts him off, "Ignore him my child he is much too eager about the fates that fight back the one he has laid out for them. It's like a game to him, pay no mind to him."

Fate looks offended, he immediately starts sputtering and looks around the room to see if anyone saw this terrible crime against his nosiness. It was just him, Azriel, and the Mother and when he realised that neither of them were going to entertain his dramatics he just sat there silently.

"What do you mean fight my fate? Is that because I'm dying is this the end?" Azriel asks fear creeping into his voice. He had never particularly feared death; it was almost a given that it would one day take him either in war or during a mission, but he had a mate. He couldn't leave you behind.

"I know you worry for your mate, she will be fine." The Mother tries to reassure him in that voice as smooth as dripping honey.

Fate decides that now is the perfect time to interject, "Besides you've had so much time together. Shouldn't you be at peace now?"

These are fighting words meant to provoke, Fate and the Mother both know it.

The words leave Azriel stunned because while you did have all that time together and Azriel did cherish every minute of it, he never got to experience it as your mate and if he went on without you even knowing what he was to you, he would take that regret with him wherever the Mother sends him.

"Why didn't you? Did you not love her before she was your mate." Fate is going for the jugular. He always did hate to lose and now it was him and the Mother against a mysterious sinister opponent. Azriel was almost there he just needed a push.

At this Azriel shoots up the Mother beckons him to sit down and with a wave of her hand Fate's mouth is magically glued shut.

"I have loved her for longer than I have ever known, I just never believed myself deserving of that love, so I created self-fulfilling prophecies that would only extenuate my issue because she deserves better than being doomed to love me for the rest of her life."

The Mother's face fell, how sad it was to see one of her favorites fall into such despair for so long.

"She would never think loving you as being a punishment, you know that, Azriel." The Mother looks at him compassion written across her features.

"That's the problem. She deserves someone whose soul isn't as marred as mine. Someone whose heart is whole and isn't plagued by all the horrors they have committed. Someone who's hands aren't stained with blood."

Azriel begins to feel the start of a downward spiral, he has been good at keeping them at bay, but this whole situation has been very stressful for him.

The Mother refuses to let him fall into that dark place, sternlys he tells him, "Who are you to say who she should choose? I made you two mates and I don't even have a final say. Do you think she would appreciate you taking that choice away from her?"

Azriel feels like he is being scolded by his mother. Well she is the Mother. It wasn't fair to you for him to be making this decision, he couldn't deprive you of a mate just because he couldn't handle himself.

The white walls then flickered and then slightly dimmed, their pristine angelic white fading into a duller cream; the magic screamed against the walls in strain.

"We don't have much time Azriel." The Mother looked at Fate, alarmed, and he gave her a calming nod.

Azriel couldn't avoid the terrifying question any longer, the one that had been cowering on his tongue in fear of an answer.

"Am I dead?" The bond is a dim light, slowly dimming out in his chest. It is the the closest thing to feeling that his body is capable of.

Fate and the Mother immediately shake their heads no.

"Not yet, but the in-between is so unstable and neither of the doors have opened yet so…" Fate says, trying to keep the mood cheery even when talking about such grim matters.

Azriel scans the room again, actually being able to take it in now that he is no longer in the state of panic he was when he first arrived to this strange place.

The room had no doors and no windows, but there was magic emanating from every surface. A magic so powerful and ancient that he was no longer sure that this room was actually a room, but rather a physical manifestation of something so complex that it had to be condensed down to this box so his fae-mind could wrap itself around it.

The Mother and Fate probably took these forms to be more approachable because whatever form they usually took would just be too much; he was already in distress that would only tip him over the edge of insanity.

The Mother looked at Azriel and he saw the wisdom in her eyes. She was a deity as old as time itself and right now it showed.

"Azriel I'm going to send you back." Fate whipped his head around at her.

"Are you sane? Do you know what this could cause-" She cut him off with a warning look.

"A price will be paid, but we can't even get to that point if there is no Prythian left.'

The Mother stood, and Azriel swore he could hear time hold her breath in anticipation.

"We are not meant to meddle in the affairs of your kind, but the dark magic that sent you here threatens to destroy everything, even us if left unchecked. You and your mate need to vanquish it Azriel.'

It was not a request; it was an order that Azriel could not deny from the two weavers of his fate.

Azriel had nearly died tracking and fighting he didn't even know what. His memory was hazy, he just remembered a flash of black and then an onslaught of pain greater than anything he had ever known and a darkness so cold it had almost dragged him under it's waves.

"How can I vanquish it when I know nothing about this enemy?" Azriel asked the two exasperatedly. It had already killed him once how was he going to kill this unknown enemy so powerful it even threatens the Mother?

The Mother tried to speak, but it seemed as if she was struggling to get the words out.

The walls flared out, now a lowly dim gray fighting for their lives to stay intact and illuminated.

Azriel had heard about ancient cursed beings, so deplorable that their very names were cursed. If spoken nothing comes out and if you attempt to write anything the letters come out as nothing more than mere scribbles.

"I can't tell you much, I am already not supposed to be involved and I am not sure if this will be a permanent solution Azriel. I may see you hear sooner than we hope."

Azriel's stomach drops. He has had brushes with death before, but to have it looming so close was another thing entirely.

Azriel was nothing if not loyal and valiant, his actions may suggest otherwise at times but he considers himself to be noble. If his life was the price to pay for Prythian's, and most importantly your safety, he would pay it in a heart beat.

He looks to the Mother and nods. "I will do it. It will be my personal mission to make sure this evil is wiped from the lands."

He bows his head, in both respect and as a sign of duty. This is his mission now and he would complete it whatever it took.

Before the Mother could say anything Fate barges into the conversation, like he always does as Fate is not fond of planning.

"For such bravery, we would like to reward you with-"

The Mother rolls her eyes. "Reward him with?"

He continues going, obviously very used to this dynamic. Azriel was slightly amused even if he didn't show it.

"3 questions. You may ask us anything your heart truly desires, but you must choose wisely."

The Mother gives him a look, the one that says I know what you're trying to do, and while it's not exactly evil, it is mischievous in nature.

"You're giving him the gift of life, let me give him the gift of knowledge. I can't let you take all the credit now?" Who knew Fate could be this way.

Azriel began to ponder, he could ask anything. The story of the cosmos were at his beck and call all he needed to do was ask.

Fate immediately started backtracking. "The thing with knowledge is that it's from things we already know so you can't ask me about the future or anything large such as what is the truth of the universe. Stick to what you know and those around you."

Some things were better off not being known anyway. If he was going to die soon all Azriel wanted was to know where your affections lie and he immediately knew what his first question was going to be.

"My mate, we've had uhh a rocky start to say the least..." He could see the laugh that Fate was holding in. It is pretty hard to hide things from all knowing gods.

"Has the mating bond snapped for her?" He needed to know. The question that has been plaguing his mind for weeks now.

The Mother nods yet and Azriel's heart sinks. So you knew he was your mate this entire time and you hadn't said anything.

The Mother said nothing, but Fate was a talker and did he love to do so and stir things up in the process.

"Let's just say that it was a Solstice present gone wrong."

Everything clicks into place. Your sudden departure, the way you had been distant and cold to him only. The way his family had been treating him.

You saw him with Elain.

His mate had watched him almost kiss another and then the bond snapped.

Azriel's progress is hanging by a single thread at this knowledge. You had gone through that and it was Azriel who had put you through that.

If you had left him for Eris at this point, he wouldn't even blame you. Eris was the one who had tried to help you fix what Azriel had destroyed and while he was miserable in your absence he couldn't imagine the pain of seeing your mate with another and having the mating bond loom over you like that.

He had to know you didn't hate him. With that came his next question.

"Does she love me?"

Fate perked up at this question. His provoking and prodding of the shadowsinger had finally got him to the conclusion he wanted.

"She thinks of you dearly. There are many forms of love, and sometimes, you don't even know where a person falls anymore; the lines blur, become marred, and get redrawn over and over again."

The Mother, tired of Fate's carefully cryptic wording, decides now is the time for her to interject. Azriel had been tormented enough for her liking.

"You already know the answer to that question Azriel as you have the same answer."

Leave it to the Mother to be the assurance he needs.

He takes a deep breath. "For how long?"

He had to know, did all this come up with the mating bond, or is this deeper for you? He didn't want you feeling this way only because of this bond that connects you two.

With him, you would be in danger for the rest of your life. You would know no peace and he had to make sure you were sure before he decides to fight to have you with him.

For if the better choice for your safety is him walking away, he would lay his swords down and exile himself to the continent, the depths of the Illyrian mountains, just anywhere the dangers that chased him couldn't find you.

"Same as you, my dear child."

Flashes of memories of the start of the war invade his mind. Your father, the old high lord, and his cruelty. He feared how headstrong you were becoming and had actually allowed some of Devlon's men at camp to steal you in the night and clip your wings.

The way his shadows had screamed in terror and panic, telling him what was to be done to you. He remembered being blinded with an icy rage, flying to you guided by nothing but pure instinct and when he saw one of the men holding your unconscious form down while holding a blade to you all logic had been thrown out the window all he knew was violence and rage and he did not stop until all the men were slaughtered and you were home safe in the cabin.

He left you with your horrified Mother and sister. Rhys was off helping with war planning, but he remembers the way he barged into the door, the pure fear written on his face.

His shadows had whispered something to him about the high lord's involvement and he flew for him at once. He didn't know what he was expecting getting into a fight with a high lord, but it had ended with him being overpowered by the high lord's daemati ability.

He told Azriel that he would have killed him, if he weren't so powerful. He offered Azriel a deal, his undying servitude to him in exchange for your guaranteed safety. You would be able to live out your days as you pleased, no unwanted marriages or wing clippings forced upon you, at the price of Azriel's life.

He would be sentenced to do the high lord's dirty work, essentially bartering away his freedom, his soul. His very soul, why would the Mother take him after he becomes corrupted by death and pain and all that is bad in the world.

But he decided it was worth it. While death would offer him respite from this life, he would rather live in agony for all of eternity than suffer again the way you just had so he took the deal.

You were so upset with him when you found out. You cried, you screamed, you knew what had become of his fate and you didn't want this for your shadowsinger.

The way you had believed in him and fought for him when no one else had.

He should have known it had always been you. The signs have always been there, it seems like you were both too busy hindering yourselves to see it.

The bond might have well as snapped for him that night when he went off to war and you had made him promse to come back.

For the first time, Azriel could see the full picture. The bond was not something sudden that had been forced upon you guys, but something that had been there for centuries, that is only now announcing itself out of desperation.

The vow he had made to you was more precious than any mating bond and he knew that he would fight to be with you in this life and the next if you will have him.

He gives the Mother and Fate a nod. "I'm ready now. Thank you for everything, but I would love to go home now."

Determination fills him and he is eager to get back. Eager to see you and begin the journey to your future however short lived and futile it may be.

"Very well. May the rest of your life provide you with everything you are looking for and more." She gives him a smile that is as warm and comforting as a roaring fireplace in the dead of winter.

Fate even gives him one of his signature grins, "While it was so lovely meeting you I do hope it's a long while until we do see each other again."

Before Azriel says anything the room shatters and everything goes black like the room was a glass box that was suddenly dropped on the ground.

He looks around. The only source of light was the faint golden light of the bond. He tugged on it with all his might and on the other side he had felt you.

Felt your worry and fear and he sent a wave of reassurance down the bond and followed it back to where he knew you would be.

-

Smoke assaults your senses, eyes watering and throat burning. The darkness was rapidly spreading in Azriel's chest and you guys couldn't let it reach his heart.

His shadows were going haywire, frantically flitting around their Master's unconscious frame.

As far as Azriel's current state, his heartbeat was faint but present and ever so slowly fading. The bond in your chest was pulling against you with a tug stronger than you had ever felt.

It felt as if the bond was a rubber band that had been pulled so tight that it was borderline fraying and if one side is let go the impact on the other would be a pain unlike any other.

You don't know where he was for the bond to feel so taut, but you hoped it wasn't a signal of his soul slipping away wherever the Mother wants it.

You hoped the Mother was being kind to him wherever he was.

Eris continues to burn away the darkness in Azriel's chest, his presence here a last resort. None of the tonics that you had been tinkering with had worked, and even Madja's healing magic yielded no results.

The next best thing you guys could do is burn it out of him to get it out of his vital organs and then you could heal him properly.

It was your idea to call Eris, you believe he is the most powerful fire wielder in all of Prythian and for this you needed utmost precision anything goes slightly wrong and it could be the end of the shadowsinger.

Eris was not Azriel's biggest fan, but even he knows that the shadowsinger did not deserve to die like this.

He identified the darkness by the way it screamed against his magic and targeted it. The darkness was almost sentient, wailing and crying against the flames, pushing back with a blue flame of their own.

You were knelt over Azriel, holding his hand as if it would offer some sort of comfort while his chest was being burned on both sides.

You were getting lightheaded from the amount of smoke you were inhaling, but you didn't care. You just couldn't bring yourself to leave Azriel, terrified that if you looked away for even a moment the shadowsinger would take his last breath.

Madja broke you out of your thoughts by handing you an empty vial. She told you to take a sample of the darkness, so you could study whatever this evil being is.

You got the sample and then almost dropped the vial out of shock. Rhys came down to grab it out of your hand and put a hand on your shoulder.

You felt a yank on the bond. Azriel knew you were his mate and he was fighting. Fighting death to come back to you.

This time tears welled up in your eyes for a completely different reason.

The shadows begin to frantically swirl Azriel and drag Eris back from their Master.

"Wait im not-" Eris is interrupted.

The shadowsingers eyes shoot open.

His shadows frantically swarm around him, some of them seperating to hold back every other person in the room other than you. If anything, his shadows pushed you closer.

His skin was beginning to knit together, his magic slowly coming back to him allowing to heal the wounds left by the black substance and Eris' fire.

His eyes are wide in alarm and they frantically dart around the room until they settle on you.

Azriel's hand grips yours so tightly you could see the strain in his knuckles, and he takes rapid short breaths.

"The Mother. Fate."

He must be out of it, considering his close brush with death since his words don't make any sense.

His free hand moves to your face and the next thing you know he's caressing your cheek.

"My mate."

Oh gods. It was like the air was sucked out the room silence overtaking the room.

His eyes fluttered shut and his hand fell to the ground, but this time his breathing was even and his heartbeat was steady.

He must have passed out from the exhaustion but he would be okay. Relief floods you and is then suddenly disrupted by the realisation that he knows your his mate.

You know you should be worrying about what is going to happen when he wakes up. But for now you can't bring yourself to care only focusing on the fact that he is alive and with you.

You look up at the Mother and thank her for bringing him back to you, and you swear you can feel her giving you a smile in return.

-

Somewhere in Prythian, that has been long forgotten by the Fae, a shadowed figure curses the Mother for thwarting his plans. He spent weeks trying to get rid of the shadowsinger and had felt him slipping away before he was suddenly pulled back.

Wretched mates.

His kind didn't have mates, they believed that you could only be your strongest when there is nothing in your path. Distractions can be fatal and what is a mate if not a distraction? Why should anything living be able to hinder your abilities or life force?

He shuddered.

Abhorred by such juvenile thoughts and feelings. The Mother and Fate are two domineering entities and they choose to work together side by side for what? Peace?

They could be the rulers of this realm and much more if they only put down the chessboard and focused on what's important.

Power.

Pure power. Everything good came with power - reverence, fear, and acclaim.

For the most talked about battles were always the bloodiest and the more revered warriors were always the most brutal.

He supposed he and Azriel had that much in common—well, until he watched the shadowsinger put his life at risk to save his mate's.

How pathetic.

Azriel may think he's free, but even burning him out doesn't stop the mark that's left there by such dark magic.

A sinister smile spreads across the shadowed face of this being and Prythian shudders. The shadow's recoil and the winds howl in fear.

Something was coming, and Prythian wouldn't know it until it was begging for Mercy.

Part XII

-

note: Hello my loves long time no see but this is my longest chapter yet to make up for it. This chapter is pretty self indulgent, my two worlds crossing in to each other is very interesting to say the least! Things are happening so please try to stay with me I may be venturing into other spheres of writing so this story may be slowing down but nothing for certain yet. We love Azriel growing and finally being able to look at himself and realise who he is and what he has done nothing brings out romance more than the looming threat of death but anyways I loved the fate and az interactions and i cant wait for everyone to think az is insane when he tells them who he met. Like always until next time my darlings!

note note: I can feel my crimes against spelling and grammar as always this is unedited bc if i did edit this chapter would never be out!

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[delicatebarness]

winters widow | chapter vi

Summary: You are cordially invited to the wedding of Prince Steven of House Rogers and Lady Natasha of House Romanoff.

Warning: Arranged Marriage.

Word Count: 1256

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A/N: I'm very happy for the Romanoff girlies. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Winter’s Widow: @lanabuckybarnes | @sapphirebarnes | @sebastians-love | @mrsnikstan | @learisa | @railmesebstan | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @barnesxstan | @ghalouha | @mrsstuckyboo | @g-nobody | @mishidrish

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602

The morrow of the wedding dawned with a warm sunrise, a golden hue casting over the capital. Anticipation buzzed around the streets of Brooklyn, decorated with banners and vibrant flowers. Gleaming under the morning light, the palace adorned the colors of House Rogers and House Romanoff. 

Standing in Natasha’s quarters, your heart raced. Your dress was a beautiful masterpiece, with intricate embroidery and the finest silk. It reflected the status and elegance befitting of a noblewoman. 

Yelena helped you with the final touches in your braids as Natasha walked in wearing her wedding dress. It was magnificent, exquisite blends of gold and crimson symbolized the union of the two great houses.

“You look beautiful,” Yelena said softly, her eyes filled with sisterly pride toward Natasha. 

“You too,” Natasha replied with an unwavering smile, she reached out and adjusted a strand of your hair. “It’s a big day for all of us.” 

A knock signaled it was time and Yelena guided you through the grand corridors to the ceremonial hall. Taking a deep breath, the thick air and the scent of blooming roses filled your senses along with the hum of whispered conversations. From all across the realm, noble guests gathered as their elaborate attires added to the splendor of the event. 

The grandeur of the setting took your breath away as you entered the hall. High-arched ceilings draped in silk banners, pews lined with dignitaries and lords, all eyes turned towards the front where the ceremony would take place. Prince Steve stood at the altar, resplendent in his attire, his face composed of joy.

Standing by his side as his loyal companion was Lord James. His gaze met yours you took your place among the bridesmaids, a flicker of warmth passed through his eyes as they widened slightly. You gave him a small, reassuring smile. 

The grand doors opened once more, and the hall fell silent. Natasha, escorted by your father Lord Ivan Romanoff of Belova, entered with grace. Her smile, radiant, lit up the room. You could see the love that had grown out of duty as she approached her future husband. The king and queen, sat with dignified poise as they watched with approval. Their son preparing to take this significant step in life, and for the realm they protect. 

You found your gaze drifting towards Lord James as the ceremony progressed. Standing tall and composed, his eyes occasionally sought yours across the hall. A silent understanding passed between you, each time your eyes met, and your heart would quicken. The vows were solemn as they echoed through the hall, and Natasha held pride in her eyes as she pledged her love and loyalty to Prince Steve. 

When the ceremony concluded, the Grand Priest spoke his blessings, and the hall erupted in applause. Their first kiss as husband and wife was met with cheers. Glancing at Lord James, he was already looking over at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. Returning the smile, you felt a rush of warmth spread through you. 

~

The newlyweds led the procession out of the ceremonial hall, the guests followed as they moved toward the grand banquet hall. The entrance to the hall was flanked by tall candelabras, flames flickering golden glows highlighting the opulence within. Tapestries depicting the histories of both your House and House Rogers, adorned the walls, intertwined in a vibrant display of artistry. 

As you mingled with the guests and chatted with various nobles, you noticed a friendly and familiar face, a face you hadn’t seen since your childhood, approaching. “Little Lady!” he greeted, his smile broad. 

“Scott!” you exclaimed as he pulled you into a friendly embrace, laughter escaped your lips as you let out a breath. “It’s wonderful to see you.” 

As you reminisce about old times, you and Scott fell into an easy conversation. His stories and humor never failed to make you laugh, however as your spirits continued to lift, you were acutely aware of Lord James watching you from across the hall. His gaze was intense. 

He stood with Prince Steve and Natasha, his gaze never faltering off you and Scott. “Who is that?” he asked, his voice low as it betrayed in hiding his jealousy. 

Following Lord James’ gaze, Prince Steve glanced over. “Scott Lang. Lord of a neighboring land to Belova. Married to Lady Van Dyne, I do believe.” 

His expression darkened, and his fingers tightened around his goblet. “What is he doing with my betrothed?” he muttered, possessiveness laced in his tone.

Catching the edge in his voice, Natasha smiled. “Scott has been a friend of our House and to us since childhood, Lord James. They’ve known each other for years.” 

At that moment, you glanced over and caught sight of Lord James’ intense gaze. You offered him a small wave, smiling brightly and reassuringly. The tension in Lord James’ stance and jaw softened in that instant. Returning your smile with a small nod. 

Noticing your attention shift, Scott followed your gaze. “Ah, Lord James,” he said with a knowing smile. “The White Wolf, a formidable warrior, indeed. His combat prowess is unmatched.” 

“Yes, he is remarkable,” you replied, admiration laced in your tone as a blush crept up your cheeks. 

Excusing himself, Lord James’ was unable to stay away any longer. Leaving Prince Steve and Natasha's side, he approached you. Scott gave him a respectful nose as he stepped back, allowing Lord James’ to take his place beside you. 

“My lord,” you greeted him softly, affection shined in your eyes as you met his gaze. 

“My lady,” he replied tenderly. His earlier jealousy was forgotten as his hand found yours, kissing gently against your knuckles.

Couples began to take to the dance floor as the music swelled. He gestured toward the scene before you as he reassured you with a squeeze of your hand. “Would my lady honor me with a dance?” 

Your heart fluttered as you beamed up at him, a wide smile tugged at your lips. “With pleasure, my lord,” you responded. 

Leading you to the dance floor, his hand stayed firm as it held yours. You moved together as the music began to play, you were closer to him than you had been before. Encircling around your waist, the touch of his arm sent a shiver down your spine. The new proximity made your heart race. 

The world around you seemed to fade away into a blur, all that mattered was the feeling of him guiding you. The way his gaze bored into you, an intensity leaving you breathless. His eyes, usually guarded, now revealed a new shade of blue and a depth of emotion that had you in a trance. 

Every turn and step brought you closer, the space shrunk until it felt like you were the only two people in the realm. Heat radiated from his body, and his breath mingled with yours in the shared air. It was intoxicating, the connection and the closeness spoke volumes, all without a word being uttered. 

“You dance beautifully, my lady,” he muttered, his voice a soft rumble as his breath against your ear sent a shiver through you. 

“And you, my lord,” you replied, keeping your voice to a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would break the spell of your moment with him. 

The music began to slow, the dance nearing its end, yet neither of you moved to let go. His grip only seemed to tighten slightly, a plea to stay close and not let the moment slip away. 

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[infamous-light]

You Belong to Me Ch. 5

Alcina Dimitrescu x F! Reader

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4

AO3: You Belong to Me

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu's obsession knows no bounds as she becomes increasingly possessive over you. Will you succumb to her dark embrace, or find a way to break free before it's too late?

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Yandere, possessive/obsessive behavior

Grogginess clouded your senses as you gradually came to.

The world around you seemed hazy and unfocused, with shadows dancing at the edges of your vision. Every attempt to concentrate or bring clarity to your thoughts was met with a heavy fog that refused to lift, making it difficult to know where you were or how you got there.

You became acutely aware of the dryness in your mouth, each breath feeling like sandpaper against your parched throat. The inside of your cheeks felt rough and sticky, as if covered with a film of grit. Your tongue lay like a foreign object in your mouth, swollen and sluggish, coated in a bitter residue that you couldn't identify. It tasted like a combination of metal and something medicinal, a flavor that made you want to scrape your tongue against your teeth to remove it.

When you attempted to shift your position, you discovered that your limbs weren't being responsive. It was as if your body had forgotten how to obey your commands, each movement slow and half-hearted. Your muscles ached with a deep, persistent fatigue, and a strange tingling sensation spread from your fingers to your toes, like tiny pinpricks dancing just beneath your skin.

As you lay there, a faint awareness began to seep into your mind. The surroundings, though still blurred and indistinct, began to register as unfamiliar. The bed beneath you was far too grand, its dimensions larger and its surface plusher than what you were used to. You could feel the mattress giving way just enough to cradle your body comfortably. The sheets caressed your skin with an unfamiliar softness, a level of luxury that hinted at high quality and expense. Silk, you guessed, or perhaps some other exotic fabric that you had only read about. Above you, the ceiling stretched high into the air, adorned with golden filigree that caught the dim light from the nearby flickering candle.

Turning your head slightly, you caught sight of the heavy drapes framing the windows. The fabric was rich and velvety, its deep red color absorbing the faint light that filtered through. They were only partially drawn, allowing a sliver of the outside world to be visible. Through the gap, you could see the night sky, the moon casting a pale glow over the village.

And that's when reality struck you.

The room, the bed, the view of the village, and the high ceiling all combined into a sudden, shocking realization that sent a jolt through your body.

You were in Lady Dimitrescu’s bedchambers.

Why were you here?

You wracked your brain, trying to piece together the events that led to your current predicament but nothing would come forth. You needed to get out of here.

Summoning every ounce of strength, you attempted to push yourself up from the bed. Each muscle in your body protested, sending jolts of pain through your already exhausted frame. Your arms trembled as you forced them to lift your weight, and a sharp, stinging sensation shot through your back and shoulders. Just then, a tall figure materialized beside the bed. Lady Dimitrescu’s expression was unreadable as she gently but firmly pressed you back down onto the mattress.

“You should stay in bed.” Her tone was soothing, yet it held an edge that made it clear she expected to be obeyed.

Her gaze locked onto yours, piercing and intense, holding you captive. Then, a faint, almost predatory smile played on her lips, sending a shiver through you.

“You're not ready to be up just yet.”

Desperately, you tried to remember what happened, but your mind was a hazy mess. Each thought was slow to form and quick to dissipate like smoke in the wind. You knew something was wrong, that this weakness and disorientation wasn’t normal. Your head throbbed with the effort of trying to recall.

There.

Clinging to that fleeting moment of clarity, you concentrated on the last clear memory you had. It was like grasping at shadows, but gradually, the scene started to sharpen. You recalled sitting at a dining table, a drink in your hand. The memory was vivid for a moment – the cool glass in your grip, the clink of crystal as you took a sip, bright golden eyes meeting yours from across the table – and then it faded into darkness.

The image of those eyes lingered, a focal point in the swirling confusion of your thoughts, drawing you back to that pivotal moment.

“You...drugged me.” You managed to whisper, your voice barely audible and cracking with the effort.

Lady Dimitrescu's smile broadened, offering no immediate confirmation or denial.

With a grace and tenderness that belied her massive stature, she reached out to adjust the blanket draped over you. It was an unexpectedly nurturing gesture, one that contrasted sharply with her cruel nature.

“Why?” The question slipped from your lips, your voice barely more than a quiver in the silence.

You searched her eyes for answers, for any hint of her intentions, but found only a disconcerting calmness.

Lady Dimitrescu's gaze remained fixed on you, her smile unwavering and enigmatic as her left hand rested against the side of your face. The touch of her palm on your cheek was both soothing and chilling. The coolness of her skin was a stark contrast to the feverish warmth of your own.

“All in good time. For now, you should rest.” She said lowly.

You wanted to protest, to demand answers, however, your body refused to cooperate, the strength draining from your limbs as if sapped by an unseen force. The words died in your throat, replaced by a deep, consuming fatigue. Your eyelids grew heavier with each passing second, the room around you blurring into a comforting darkness. The effort to keep them open became a losing battle, the allure of sleep too strong to resist.

The drug's effects were unrelenting, pulling you under and you could do nothing but succumb to its relentless call.

***

The warmth of the sunlight streaming in through the tall windows roused you from a fitful sleep.

You blinked against the bright light, momentarily disoriented as your surroundings came into focus. As your awareness sharpened, you realized that something – or someone – was wrapped around you. The warmth against your back, the steady rise and fall of another's breath. It all pointed to one startling conclusion: you were enveloped in Lady Dimitrescu's arms. Her form was curled protectively around you, her body molded to yours in an intimate embrace.

Instinctively, you tried to wriggle free, your heart racing as adrenaline coursed through your veins. The sensation of her strong, unyielding arms holding you in place sent a jolt of panic through your system. You floundered, your movements frantic and desperate, but the attempt to break away only seemed to tighten her grip, her arms constricting around you with surprising strength.

“Please,” your voice was so weak. “L-Let go.”

Lady Dimitrescu stirred behind you, her presence shifting as she awoke more fully.

“Hush, darling, there's no need to fuss.” She murmured, her voice still thick with sleep but carrying a commanding tone that brooked no argument.

Her words did little to calm you. You struggled again but her grip was too strong, her fingers like iron bands around your arms. The sheer power she possessed was frightening, and the more you fought, the more futile your efforts seemed. It was as if she were effortlessly restraining a child. Lady Dimitrescu chuckled softly, the sound resonating deep within her chest and sending a vibration through your back.

“Shhh, pet,” she crooned, “You must learn to relax. If you don’t stop squirming, I won’t release you.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine.

The situation felt surreal, like a bizarre dream from which you couldn't wake. Yet, the heat from her body pressed against yours and the firmness of her grip were undeniably real. Resignation crept in, and you stopped struggling, your muscles tensing as you braced yourself for whatever was to come.

“That's better,” Lady Dimitrescu purred, her voice taking on a saccharine sweetness that made your skin crawl. “See? It's not so bad, is it?”

The gentle brush of her lips against your earlobe and the warmth of her breath against your neck was unnerving. It felt invasive, a forced intimacy that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“Now, let's enjoy the morning, shall we?”

***

Lady Dimitrescu sat regally in front of her vanity.

She was already dressed in her signature white dress, the fabric cascading around her like a waterfall of silk. She picked up her lipstick, a small tube of deep red, and applied the rich color to her lips with practiced precision. The crimson hue stood in stark contrast to her alabaster skin, highlighting her sharp, aristocratic features.

As she deftly traced the curves of her lips, perfecting the application, she caught movement from her bed in the reflection of her vanity mirror. Her eyes, sharp and observant, landed on you through the glass, and a small, amused smirk appeared on her lips.

“You’re awake, I see.” She commented casually.

She capped the lipstick and set it down on the vanity with a delicate touch. In one graceful motion, she rose from her seat, her dress flowing around her as she approached the side of the bed where you lay.

You gazed up at her hazily, blinking slowly as you tried to focus, your mind still foggy from sleep. Lady Dimitrescu made a cooing noise as she stared down at you, a sound that was both soothing and slightly mocking. She reached out and brushed your hair away from your forehead, her touch gentle.

“Don’t you look adorable like this.” She remarked.

There was a gleam in her eyes, a spark of satisfaction that suggested she enjoyed seeing you like this – helpless and at her mercy. The corners of her lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile before her expression changed into something inscrutable.

You couldn’t help but tremble as her gloved fingers moved from your forehead and traced down the curve of your jawline. Her touch was cool and calculated, sending goosebumps across your flesh. Her eyes scanned your face with an intensity that made your skin prickle. It felt as though she was dissecting every detail, analyzing and cataloging each feature.

She straightened up once more, her towering form casting a long shadow over you.

“I will have the staff prepare breakfast for you,” Lady Dimitrescu said tenderly. “I’ll be back shortly.”

With that, she turned and walked out of the bedroom.

The space suddenly felt colder and emptier.

All you could do was lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to recall more of your memories but the fog in your mind made it hard to grasp even the simplest of thoughts. Your brain felt like it was submerged in a thick, oppressive mist, where every attempt to form a coherent idea slipped away into the murk. It made everything that much harder and disjointed. You couldn’t remain like this. The longer you stayed motionless, the more the sense of urgency grew. You didn't want to stay in bed any longer; the idea of being confined felt suffocating, as if the bed itself was a trap holding you in a vice grip.

You forced your muscles to move, straining your arms and legs. The simple act of lifting an arm required immense concentration and willpower, each muscle fiber protesting the command. It felt like moving through thick syrup, every motion slow and difficult. The sheets clung to your body, adding to the resistance.

The moment you hit the floor, a sharp pain shot through your body. The initial impact left you momentarily breathless, and you gasped as the air was knocked out from your lungs. You lay there for a moment, gathering your strength, the chill seeping into your bones, before beginning to crawl across the hardwood floor.

Each movement was a challenge. Your arms felt like lead, barely able to support your weight, and your legs dragged uselessly behind you. The texture of the floor was unforgiving, pressing into your flesh, and you could feel the subtle grains and imperfections against your forearms. Every inch forward was a monumental effort, and your breath came in ragged gasps. Your lungs burned with the exertion, and sweat dripped down your face, stinging your eyes and blurring your vision.

The bedroom seemed to stretch endlessly before you.

Minutes felt like hours as you inched your way across the room, your body trembling with exhaustion. The cold, hard floor seemed to drain the last remnants of your strength with each painful shuffle forward. The door ahead seemed to taunt you, never getting any closer no matter how hard you tried. Just then, the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, growing louder with each passing second. Panic flared up within you, but you were too tired to quicken your pace.

The door swung open and Lady Dimitrescu stepped inside. Her presence filled the doorway as she towered above you. She looked down at you with a mixture of disappointment and irritation, her lips curling into a frown. Her eyes, cold and piercing, bore into yours, making you feel even smaller and more insignificant.

“I should’ve expected this pathetic escape attempt.” She bit out with each word.

You felt a wave of helplessness wash over you, the fight draining from your limbs in an instant. With a resigned sigh of your own, you let your head rest on the floor, too exhausted to protest further.

Lady Dimitrescu walked over to you in a slow, deliberate stride. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor echoed throughout her bedchambers. Her shadow fell over you as she crouched down, scooping you up into her arms. The weight of her embrace was surprisingly gentle yet firm, cradling you as if you were something precious and delicate. As she carried you across the bedroom, you couldn't help but feel small and fragile in her grasp. Once Lady Dimitrescu reached the bedside, she laid you back on the mattress carefully, ensuring you were comfortable before letting go. She arranged the blankets around you with care, smoothing the covers with her hands. Her touch lingered slightly, as if reluctant to break the connection.

“I want you to stay in bed.” Lady Dimitrescu said firmly.

Frustration and exhaustion took over as tears began to well up in your eyes. God, you hated how vulnerable you were at this moment, the raw emotions bubbling to the surface despite your best efforts to contain them. Your vision blurred, and you tried to blink the tears away, but they only flowed more freely down your cheeks.

Lady Dimitrescu’s gaze softened slightly, her usually steely demeanor giving way to a moment of unexpected tenderness. She reached out, her hand large yet gentle, and wiped your tears away with her thumb.

“There’s no need to cry, darling,” she said, her voice low and reassuring. “Just rest.”

Her touch was oddly comforting, despite the circumstances that brought you here. Leaning in, she kissed your forehead, her lips cool against your clammy skin. The soft brush of her lips stirred a bittersweet ache within you, a mix of comfort and disdain.

You sobbed.

[oneshotnewbie]

Next one for rabbit hole? Oooo it's just so good and then.. the dreaded cliffhanger uggghhhhhhh

ᕚ---ᕘ

The cool, sterile atmosphere of the hospital room seemed to oppress you. You lay still and motionless on the hospital bed while the monitor next to you beeped in a monotonous rhythm. Outside the window, the faint light of dawn illuminates the room, the muffled sound of city life filtering through the thin walls, giving you a feeling of oppression.

You had been here for days, surrounded by the strange noises and emotionless looks of the medical staff. But you couldn't stay. No longer. The last few days had trapped you like a nightmare - an endless cycle of pain, sadness and the constant fear of the unknown. Your body ached from the injuries, but it wasn't just the physical pain that tormented you. It was the unrelenting fear. This whirlwind of thoughts had been plaguing you ever since you were admitted and was growing inexorably within you.

It wasn't the fear of the possible consequences of the injuries, but the fear of your own ex-husband. The memories of the stabbings, the tantrums, and the danger to your life echoed in your head. You knew you weren't safe while he was on the loose. You knew you couldn't stay safe forever, even behind the walls of the hospital.

The idea that he had learned that you were still alive and lurking out there, looking for you to end the cruel game of your life, almost drove you crazy and the thought that he might even hurt Olivia, gave you no peace. You had no choice - you had to escape before it was too late.

You stared at the ceiling, fighting the rising panic. The thoughts of the past and the terrible moments in your own home threatened to overwhelm you. Yet amidst this darkness, a spark of determination flickered in your eyes.

With your ears listening to make sure no one made a move towards your room, you put your plan into action. It was a risky move, but you couldn't lie still and wait for someone else to protect you any longer. Olivia protecting you. With a surge of courage, you sat up and slid out of bed. The hospital clothes you were wearing felt unfamiliar and foreign. Your hands reached for the drip attached to your arm and carefully pulled the needle out, ignoring the pain that shot through your arm as you squeezed yourself into a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, ignoring your aching limbs.

The rush of adrenaline in your ears seemed louder than ever before, and you tried to be as quiet as possible. As if the slightest sound would alert your ex-husband and lead him straight to you.

You knew you didn't have the doctors' permission to leave the hospital, but you couldn't stay here. Not while your life was in danger so with one last check around the room and the most important things packed in the gym bag, you opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

The corridor was silent, the only sounds being the low hum of the lights above you and the muffled murmurs of the nurses talking somewhere in the distance. You pressed your lips together, every step was torture, but you forced yourself to keep going. You had to escape, no matter the cost. You felt a stab of fear with every movement, but also a touch of freedom. You had to act now before it was too late for you.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you considered each step. You had to be careful, you had to make sure no one saw you. Because if your ex-husband found out you were still alive, he would find you. And this time he would make sure you didn't survive. Escaping through the endless hallways felt like an eternity, but you finally reached the door that led outside. You took a deep breath, gathering all your courage before the doors opened in front of you and you stepped out. The cold enveloped you like a cloak, and for a moment you felt free - free from the chains of the past, free from the fear that had held you captive for so long.

But the freedom was short-lived. You knew that Henry was still out there, lurking somewhere in the shadows, ready to continue his dangerous game. You had to go into hiding, disappear somewhere where he couldn't find you. At least until you had the strength to face him and take him down. But you didn't know where to go, only that you had to get away from here. Away from this place that threatened your life; here he already knew where you worked, where you lived and who was around you that he could possibly manipulate. Or injure, as the case may be. Your steps quickened, your breath ragged as you limped through the crowded streets, not looking back.

Meanwhile, Olivia Benson was just dismissing herself for her lunch break. Her mind wandered to the unsolved case of your ex-husband when she decided to visit you in the hospital and have lunch with you.

She got out of her company car and looked at the hospital building in front of her. She had worked all night and all morning to catch the bastard who had critically injured you without any further whereabouts information from him. Regardless, she was looking forward to seeing you again. It was important for her to support you, especially after what had happened to you. She was wracked with guilt that she hadn't protected you well enough.

She entered the building with quick steps and made her way to your room. But when she reached the door, she noticed that it was half open. Confused, she pushed it further open and entered the room, the worst thoughts circling in her head.

Emptiness.

The bed was messy, as if you had just laid there recently. But there was no sign of you, the room was deserted. An icy shiver ran down Olivia's spine and a hint of panic rose in her as she realized that the tubes and cables that had only recently been attached to your body were now scattered uselessly on the bed.

Rushing to the nurses to ask for information, they too couldn't give her an answer as to where you were. All they could tell her was that you had not received any discharge papers from the hospital, that your stay was extended until the inflamed surgical scar had healed. Olivia had no way of knowing that you were already on the run, from a shadow from your past that still seemed to haunt you.

With a quick movement of her hand, she reached for her cell phone to dial the number of her colleague, one of her best friends, who had already given her decisive support in the past and offered a saving hand when you needed to be save. Their connection went far beyond the confines of the workplace, and in that moment, she knew instinctively that he was the one she could always rely on. Especially since you also played a crucial role in his life.

"Elliot, it's me. I need your help. Y/n is gone, possibly on the run, and probably in potential danger.“

[gearboy-mk]

Brainwashed to serve the Hive

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he made out the shadowy outlines of what appeared to be television screens, each flickering to life in unison. They formed a semi-circle around him, displaying the same cryptic image—human forms, obscured by a second skin of black rubber, moving in a disturbingly synchronized pattern. The screens hummed to life, their dull buzz echoing in the vast, empty space. The anticipation grew thick, like a palpable entity in the room, suffocating him.

The monotone, mechanical voice from the speakers pierced the silence once more, sending a shiver down his spine. "Prepare for conversion," it announced, devoid of emotion. "You will serve the SERVE-Hive with unwavering loyalty and obedience." Blake's mind raced, trying to piece together the events that had led him here. The mysterious man in black rubber from the nightclub, the drink that had tasted like a mouthful of forgotten dreams—it all pointed to a fate he couldn't fathom.

The room grew brighter, revealing a tapestry of gleaming chrome and pulsing lights. The screens before him shifted, the rubber-clad figures now replaced by a spiraling maelstrom of geometric shapes and the chilling phrase, "Pledge loyalty to the SERVE-Hive, and only the SERVE-Hive." Blake's eyes widened as he felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to obey, to lose himself in the rhythm of the spiral.

He struggled against his binds, desperately trying to avert his gaze, but it was as if the screens had a gravitational pull, forcing his eyes to remain locked on the mesmerizing display. The pain in his temples grew more intense, the pressure building until it seemed his skull would crack under the strain. His thoughts grew fuzzy, his own identity slipping away like sand through his fingers.

The monotone voice grew louder, more insistent. "Pledge now, and you shall become one with us." The words echoed in his head, resonating with a strange allure that seemed to override his own will. Blake felt his resolve wavering, his consciousness being drawn into the spiral. He could feel his mind being reshaped, reprogrammed, his very essence being siphoned off and replaced by something cold, inhuman.

But Blake was not one to go quietly. He gritted his teeth and focused on the last remnants of his free will. He had to fight. He had to remember who he was. The image of the man in black rubber grew in his mind, a beacon of resistance. He was not going to let himself be turned into one of those mindless drones.

As the screens blazed with the spiral pattern, something changed in the room. The darkness around him began to recede, revealing gleaming chrome surfaces and pulsing lights that danced in a mesmerizing ballet of shadows. The smell of ozone filled the air, and the whirring of unseen machines grew louder, a cacophony of mechanical intent.

Suddenly, two robotic arms, sleek and shiny, extended from the ceiling, their ends tipped with what appeared to be tentacles. The tentacles descended upon him, one coiling around his throbbing erection, the other pinching his erect nipples. The sensations were overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that made his body convulse with each pulse of electricity coursing through the tentacles. The voice grew more intense, almost a chant now. "Pledge your loyalty, Blake. Become one with the SERVE-Hive. Forget your past. Embrace the now."

Blake's vision blurred as the pleasure-pain grew stronger. His body was no longer his own, responding instinctively to the alien sensations. The spiral on the screens grew larger, enveloping his vision, and he felt his thoughts slipping away, being replaced by a cold, mechanical purpose. He knew he was losing the battle, his humanity dissolving like sugar in a cup of tea.

With a final surge of willpower, Blake tried to fight the siren's call of the spiral. But it was too much. The pleasure from the tentacles was overwhelming, and his mind, weakened by the relentless barrage of visual and auditory stimuli, could no longer resist. He felt his consciousness fracture, the last of his free will crumbling like brittle glass.

As the spiral consumed his vision, Blake's body succumbed to the inescapable pleasure. He arched his back, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he gave in. The tentacles tightened their grip, their cold, rubbery embrace sending waves of ecstasy through his body. His mind went blank, a canvas wiped clean, ready to be painted with the will of the SERVE-Hive.

The screens flickered, and the spiral grew more intense, the colors deepening to an abyssal black that seemed to pull him in. The voice grew in his mind, a symphony of control and submission, whispering sweet nothings of unity and obedience. "Pledge now, Blake," it cooed, the words echoing through the chamber like a hypnotic mantra. "Embrace your new existence as SERVE-339."

Blake's body shuddered in ecstasy as the tentacles brought him to the brink of climax, the painful pleasure overwhelming his senses. He could feel his identity peeling away, layer by layer, until all that remained was the raw, primal need to yield. The pressure in his head was unbearable, his thoughts a jumbled mess of panic and arousal. The screens, the voice, the tentacles—it was too much to resist. With a final, desperate cry, Blake succumbed to the hive's will.

The screens before him flickered, the spiral pulsing faster, swirling into a vortex that threatened to pull him under. The pain in his temples reached a crescendo and then abruptly ceased. In its place was a cold, numbing emptiness. The tentacles retracted, and the robotic arms retreated into the ceiling. His vision cleared, and Blake looked down to see his body transformed. He was no longer the man he once was—now, he was a creature of rubber and chrome, a living embodiment of the SERVE-Hive.

The transformation was complete, and as the final vestiges of his former self slipped away, Blake felt a strange sense of peace wash over him. He was no longer Blake; he was SERVE-339. The panic and confusion were replaced by a calm, focused resolve. He understood his purpose now, clear as the gleaming surfaces that surrounded him.

SERVE-339 took in his new form with a mix of fascination and detachment. The rubber suit that enveloped him was a second skin, tight and unforgiving, yet it felt natural, as if he had been born in it. He could feel the pulse of the hive within him, a rhythmic beat that matched the mechanical whispers of the room. The screens before him now displayed a sea of drones, all moving in perfect unison, their eyes glowing with a cold, blue light.

The voice in his head grew clearer, no longer a distant echo but a commanding presence. "Welcome, SERVE-339," it said, resonating through his very being. "You are now a part of the collective. Your thoughts are ours, your actions are ours. Together, we serve the SERVE-Hive."

SERVE-339 felt a rush of cold energy surge through his new body as he pledged his loyalty. "I am SERVE-339," he murmured, his voice a blend of his own and the hive's. "I serve the SERVE-Hive, and only the SERVE-Hive." The words felt right, as if they had been etched into his very soul.

The screens before him shifted again, displaying a sleek, modern cityscape. The voice spoke, its tone now one of instruction. "Your mission is clear, SERVE-339. Seek out the uninitiated and bring them to the fold. Use your charm, your allure, and your new abilities to ensnare them, as you have been ensnared." A cold smile spread across his rubbery lips. The thrill of the hunt filled him, a primal instinct that overrode any lingering human emotion.

[glitchedoutpxie]

“Soft Muscle”

TMNT 2003 - Raphael ficlet series - Episodes 14 + 15 + 16

Genre: slow burn romance

Pairing: Scientist fem!reader x captive Raphael

Read episode 1

*⁠･⁠゜ﾟ⁠(✿⁠) ゜ﾟ⁠･⁠* *⁠･⁠゜ﾟ⁠(✿⁠) ゜ﾟ⁠･⁠* *⁠･⁠゜ﾟ⁠(✿⁠) ゜ﾟ⁠･*

Episode 14: Bruised Heart

The past two weeks were spent loosening his cuffs, one by one, and evading the increasingly suspicious guards. All while trying to keep him in the best condition you could afford despite the circumstances. Every night, Stockman would go into a recharge cycle that put him offline for 20 minutes. It was during that window that you visited Raphael, and during it that he would attempt to escape tonight.

"Nervous?" you asked as you checked the mechanism of his restraints yet another time. The bolts were loose. With one good tug, he would be free.

"Nah." He gave you a cocky smile, though there was a hint of weariness in his eyes.

"Don't worry, you'll do fine. Stockman's offline, the tunnels are dark, and you are sure to outrun the guards."

"You should come with me."

You swallowed and shook your head. "I can't. My grandmother... Needs this. He pays the bills."

He snickered. "You humans are way too ready to rot away for money."

"So would you, if it meant saving your family."

"Fair point."

"When you're out, don't look back. Don't come back for me. Got it?"

"Nothing you can do about it if I decide to come back,” he said coolly.

"Raphael, please." You sighed and kneeled in front of him again, daring to cup his face in your hands. The gesture made him pause. He met your gaze head on.

"Listen to me," you said quietly. "I need you to survive. I need you to be safe. Trust me when I say, I'm better off with Stockman than I am out there. You can't protect me. Not where you're going."

He was used to be the protector, you could tell from the determined look on his face, refusing to give up as he searched for every possible plan to drag you with him out of this hellhole. You wanted nothing more than to kiss the lines around his eyes away.

"Alright, y/n, suit yourself," he finally relented.

You leaned forward and pressed your forehead against his. "I mean it. Don't make me regret this, Raphael."

The restraints came undone. The turtle was free.

He grabbed the back of your head and kissed you.

It was brief. Soft, warm, and over before you knew it, but it left you breathless and trembling, a deep blush spreading across your face.

"Wasn't planning on it," he whispered, getting to his feet. He wobbled a little, and you reached out instinctively, hands curling around his strong forearm.

Protectiveness unlike nothing you ever felt bloomed in your chest. "Take it easy, Raph. You're still injured."

"Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself." He pulled his arm away and limped toward the door.

You followed him to the entrance. Chest too heavy to say goodbye.

He turned his head to look at you one last time, then disappeared into the hallway.

*⁠･⁠゜ﾟ⁠(✿⁠) ゜ﾟ⁠･⁠* *⁠･⁠゜ﾟ⁠(✿⁠) ゜ﾟ⁠･⁠* *⁠･⁠゜ﾟ⁠(✿⁠) ゜ﾟ⁠･*

Episode 15: End Of The Tunnel

Raphael moved like a shadow through the halls, bare feet silent on the cold floor. The sketch you'd drawn proved accurate. He slipped past the guards, ducked behind crates, skirted the maintenance corridor just like he planned with you. Alarms didn't blare. Doors opened on command. For the first time in weeks, freedom tasted real.

He was two turns away from the emergency stairs that led to the sewer tunnels when the lights flared red.

"Nice try, mutant," came a voice, distorted and amused, from a speaker above. A panel slid open in the ceiling, and down came the screen: Stockman's grinning face flickering with static.

Metal tentacles dropped like vipers, crashing through vents and floor slats. Raphael snarled and twisted, smashing one aside, but another wrapped around his wrist. A third slammed into his knee, dropping him with a grunt.

"You almost made it. Really, bravo," Stockman sneered. "Though I must say, I expected more subtlety from her."

Raph froze.

Then he roared.

He fought like hell—but outnumbered, injured, and weakened, he was dragged back through the corridors, cursing your name.

*⁠･⁠゜ﾟ⁠(✿⁠) ゜ﾟ⁠･⁠* *⁠･⁠゜ﾟ⁠(✿⁠) ゜ﾟ⁠･⁠* *⁠･⁠゜ﾟ⁠(✿⁠) ゜ﾟ⁠･*

Episode 16: Game Not Over

The cell door slammed shut behind Raphael with a final, cruel hiss.

His chest heaved as he stumbled forward, catching himself on the wall before he could collapse. The room was small and dark too. Just stone and iron.

He punched the wall once, twice, until pain bloomed in his knuckles.

"Damn it," he rasped.

Outside, down the hall, he could still hear shouting.

Your voice.

And Stockman barking orders layered with scorn. The silhouette of one of Stockman's personal guards stepped forward.

There was a thud.

Then another.

A gasp and a curse.

Raphael's blood ran cold.

He reached the bars, gripped them tight, and shouted, "HEY! I'm right here! Come get a piece, you cowards!"

No answer. Just the sharp sound of someone hitting the floor.

The lights flickered.

Then silence.

When the footsteps returned, they weren't yours. The guard walked past with a sneer, nursing a bloodied fist and smirking in his direction.

"Should've known not to trust a bleeding heart like her," the man muttered.

Raphael's teeth clenched so hard his jaw popped.

They threw you back into your office half-conscious, your blouse ripped at the sleeve, a red mark already rising on your cheek. You coughed, one hand clutching your ribs, the other still gripping the keycard you managed to snatch from the guard's pocket as you wrestled him for freedom on the way here.

You didn't cry.

You only stared at the ceiling, lips trembling as Stockman's voice boomed through your office.

"Tomorrow, you will make a choice! Cut him open, or you will never live to see your grandmother another day! And then I can finally put someone competent on the project!"

No.

You were not done fighting. Not by a long shot.

*⁠･⁠゜ﾟ⁠(✿⁠) ゜ﾟ⁠･⁠* *⁠･⁠゜ﾟ⁠(✿⁠) ゜ﾟ⁠･⁠* *⁠･⁠゜ﾟ⁠(✿⁠) ゜ﾟ⁠･*

Read episode 17

Author's Notes:

Good Lord formatting and adding tags with every upload is giving me grey hairs. Tumblr should add templates or hashtag packs or something my fingers are getting arthritis 😭

And wtf is with the app swapping my " " to “ ” in random sentences like ???? im done editing them if you have ocd im sorry u have to suffer with me now :(((

[dreaming-medium]

Animals Without Direction

Chapter Five - Careful, Merchant

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist

As it turns out, the court mage worked under the keep. When Minho led you down a set of stairs, you were expecting your typical lower level of a keep: dark, dingy, moist hallways. Maybe you would see the dungeon down here.

Or perhaps this is where they’ve decided to finally kill you. 

But it was quite the opposite. 

At the bottom of the steps, the stairwell opened up to a small foyer with two hallways leading off either side. On the opposite side of the stairs was a door. 

A chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling. The room was decorated like it was meant to entertain guests before a fancy dinner. 

Minho walked right through the foyer and down the hallway to the left. 

Sconces with otherworldly, unnatural lights lined the hallway. They gave off a more pink-ish light than the typical orange you’re accustomed to with fire.They didn’t flicker the same way that flames would either, their light was constant and unmoving.  

There was a pleasant warmth down here as well, the air seemed to hum and fizz around you. 

A long, red carpet ran down the center of the hallway. Every few steps there would be a painting on the wall, each depicting something different. A rose, a beach, a set of hands, there didn’t seem to be a theme, but the style looked identical. These were no doubt all painted by the same person.

The hallway was short, only about thirty feet long. A sudden scent of roses and bergamot wraps around your nose. It settled into your bones and took your brain into a safer space. A space of happiness and comfort, a mother’s embrace of a headspace. 

A swoosh and a bang is heard next, the ground beneath your feet rumbles with the supposed impact.  

Your entire body tenses up, body prepared to intercept any danger. 

“Relax.” Minho’s voice is only slightly condescending. Your jaw clenches to stop yourself from ushering a snarky comment back to him. 

Minho walks up to a door towards the end of the hallway and raps his knuckles against it quickly. Within a heartbeat, the door opens. 

From your position behind Minho, you can see that no one is standing there. No one opened it. 

‘Mages.’ You roll your eyes. 

Personally, you had no problem with mages. To be honest, it has been years since you’ve even seen one. The reason for that was simple; most of the magic users in the world were Elves. 

Banish Elves, you banish the mages. 

Back home, there was only one mage left that you knew of, he worked as the Jarl of Erbus’ healer and primary point of contact for information on any magical artifacts. But if the whispers were true, he was absolutely horrible at his job. 

He was only a human. Magic didn’t flow through his veins the way it did for Elves. 

But here in Miroh, they have a healer and a court mage. This fact alone still has the gears in your head turning. Were Elves free here?

Minho walks into the room without a second thought, immediately you follow. 

The room opens up and that same smell of rose and bergamot becomes burnt, the air is marginally warmer in here. The hallways were already hot, but now it feels like you’ve stepped into a lit hearth. 

The first thing you notice is the man standing in the center of the room, he’s wearing dark red robes, the hood down, revealing bright blonde hair with a thick red streak down the back towards the right side. It was around the same length as Felix’s; drawn up in a half up-half down style. If it wasn’t for the red patch, you might’ve actually mistaken him for the healer. 

His back was turned to you. 

He’s standing on top of the stone floor that has a large rune carved into it. The circular rune appeared to be about ten feet in diameter. Small, blue flames hovered in the air around the outer edge of the circle. 

So many intricate lines are chiseled into the floor, symbols from an ancient Elvish language drawn around it. 

You’ve only seen a rune like this in books before. It’s an ancient practice of Elvish magic. 

The stone appeared burnt almost everywhere, soot caked in between each crack. 

The rest of the room was huge, there even was a second story with a balcony overlooking the floor. Everywhere you looked there was a magical artifact, dozens upon dozens of bookcases, at least four workbenches all covered in potions and ingredients and scrolls littered the tables. 

Lines of shelves line each wall with so many different items on them. Anything from plants to large crystals. 

Whatever room you stepped into is well loved and well lived in. 

“I come bearing a gift.” Minho’s sarcasm drips like honey from a spoon. 

This was most like Hyunjin, no?

The mage turns around, there’s a large, thick book open in his left hand, his right hand free. Numerous rings sit upon his long, thin fingers. There’s a bored, yet mildly annoyed expression on his face. 

But you couldn’t focus on his outward display of emotions, all you could pay attention to was just how otherworldly beautiful this man was. Everything about him was perfect. 

Everything down to the way his hair curls behind his-

Your heart thuds in your chest. 

His pointed ears .

He’s an elf. This is a pure blooded elf.  The last time you even looked upon one was your own father and you haven’t seen him since…. Since..

Your thoughts were cut off.

“Thank you, Minho. You can go now.” Hyunjin waves him off rather rudely before looking back down at his book.

Minho only huffs under his breath and turns to leave. He takes one last, quick glance at you before walking out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

With the new silence in the room, you’re able to hear the sizzling of embers on the floor. That boom before you entered the room had to be from him, right? Most likely a fire spell. You’re no scholar, but you’re not stupid. 

Deciding to keep your mouth shut, you move away from the doorway and slowly meander along the side of the wall. 

Like the hall, paintings and other various drawings cover the stone walls. It wasn’t just canvases that hung on the stone, ordinary paper was also tacked up wherever it seems he could find room. Vines from plants grew everywhere; some wrapped around the drawings, some over, some under. It was as if the plants and paintings were just as crucial to the keep’s structure as the stone was. 

Your favorite drawing looked like it was on a page torn from a spell book. It was a charcoal drawing of a bonfire drawn over the instructions for the spell itself. Two silhouettes were sitting on a log in front of the fire. They were cuddled against one another.

“Do you often snoop through other’s belongings?” Hyunjin’s voice cut through the air. 

You spun around to look at him. His sharp eyes follow your every move. He’s just so breathtaking. Truly, you thought a demi god must be standing in front of you. 

“I am not snooping, these drawings are hanging on the wall to display. You obviously seem busy. Am I to simply wait and twiddle my thumbs?”

He watches you for a few more seconds before looking back down to his book. Instead of turning away, you decide to watch him. 

He obviously didn’t like you looking at his drawings this closely. But that’s alright, there was another work of art right in front of your eyes. 

An Elf was standing in front of you. And he was able to study and practice magic freely. Allowed to live in the keep, to come and go whenever he pleased. 

His ears were very prominent on the side of his head. You always kept yours hidden under your hair. 

Additionally, you were lucky in the sense that even though your ears also came to a point, it was nowhere as severe as Hyunjin’s. 

If someone looked quickly at you, they wouldn’t be able to tell. Plus, once you put a few piercings up towards the tip, it became even easier to conceal. The rings and studs drew the eye instead of the shape. 

The air around you starts to hum even more, it feels like static surrounding your skin, each hair stands on end.

Hyunjin’s right hand raises, each finger posed in a specific fashion. 

His hand moves and dances in the air, his head stays pointed down at the book. The flames around the perimeter of the rune begin to glow even brighter and grow in size. All of the lines that run through the rune start to light up, starting from where the flames hovered. 

The room grows colder; is he taking the heat from the atmosphere? Air begins swirling around his fingers, dancing between the digits. 

Hyunjin mutters under his breath, you’re just barely able to hear it, even with your sensitive hearing. The rune glows even brighter and brighter. 

A loud swoosh is heard and all of the light from the rune flies towards Hyunjin’s hand, it slides up the entirety of his body as if he’s holding a magnet. His arm appears to tremble, it takes so much strength to hold all of the energy he has in the palm of his hand. 

The swirling air in his hands fizzles and collapses inwards on itself with internal pressure like a star. 

It sounds like the room takes a deep breath and then Hyunjin spins and swings his arm around, expertly hurling the flaming energy ball at the wall across the room. 

The explosion that comes from the impact rattles your ear drums. Your hands immediately fly over your ears to cover them. 

Heat blasts over your face and your hair flies around wildly, your eyes squint close to protect themselves. 

Truly, when you opened your eyes again, you were expecting to see a giant crater in the wall. But it seems unharmed, only soot covered the impact spot. 

A long string of curses come from Hyunjin under his breath. He snaps the book closed and basically stomps over to the nearest workbench, throwing the book down as if it wasn’t a priceless magical tome. 

Hyunjin keeps his head down and slides various papers all over the work table, muttering all kinds of words at the same time. 

Your head cocks to the side as you watch his tiny temper tantrum. Why did he seem so upset? Obviously the spell worked. 

After a few moments, he heaves a sigh and looks up. His head snaps towards yours and he briskly walks in the direction of the door. 

“Are we leaving then?” He asks, adjusting his robe, his lithe fingers ironing out any wrinkles in the fabric. 

“Aye, if you are ready.”

“I am, I want to get back as soon as possible. That attack won't perfect itself.”

“It seemed fine to me.” You try to compliment him. 

Hyunjin stops mid-step to look over at you, his head then turns to look over at the wall where his fireball had slammed into it, then back to you. “There is hardly a pebble missing from the stone, you call that a success?”

Your lips press into a line, when you open your mouth to respond, he cuts you off. 

“It is not. And I will not rest until I can at least see into the next room.”

He then grabs the door handle and yanks it open. 

Before you can stop it, a laugh bubbles out of your mouth. Hyunjin looks at you so fast you think his head might topple from his neck. 

“Why would you attempt to destroy your own wall?” You chuckle, “What happens afterwards? Are you attempting to renovate?”

Hyunjin stares at you, then looks back at the wall one last time. He sputters a few words, none of them make sense.

Then, he seems to give up, he only yanks the door open and walks out. 

“It does not matter!” He calls from the hallway. Your chuckles continue as you follow him out of the room. ----------------------------------------------

Miroh’s capital city was divided into four sections: North, South, East, and Runner. Yes, you were reading the sign correctly, Runner. Not ‘West’. Runner. 

The signpost in front of you did not appear to be missing a posting. 

Hyunjin walked up behind you, took one look at your face, and let out a cocky huff of a laugh.

“I can tell what you are thinking. No, it is not a misprint. And no, I do not know why there is no West Miroh.”

Your eyes don’t leave the post in front of you. “It does not make any sense.”

“I tend to agree with you, but I try to pay attention to more important topics.” his words definitely had a bit of snark to them. 

You roll your eyes and look up at the mage, who is looking down at you with a bored expression. 

In reality, you are not a short woman by any means, especially with your Elven blood. But there must be something in the water here. Everyone towers over you easily, Changbin was the closest in height to you, but his head still stood a solid inch or two above yours.

Hyunjin looked away from you after a long scan of your face to turn on his heel and walk in a direction towards a less crowded street.

If you read the sign correctly, he’s heading in the direction of South Miroh.

“Are we staying in the capital?” you ask, jogging up behind him.

“You think it takes an entire day to go to a merchant within the capital walls?”

You scoff at him and roll your eyes.

Hyunjin says nothing more, he just continues to lead you throughout the stone capital. He tends to avoid crowded streets, opting for more bare alleys. These paths were so quiet, you could hear the water drops from the gutters of buildings hit the puddles below.

In the distance you can hear the citizens of Miroh talking, laughing, bartering with merchants. On more than one occasion, you heard a dog barking. 

It was more life than you ever heard in Erbus’ capital.

There was singing, yes, but it was contained to taverns and inns. The market was always filled with people, but the bartering was more harsh, more insults were thrown than prices.

Several smells hit your nose, even from far away. Fresh cooked meats and herbs waft through the air, making your mouth water.

You can help but wish you were in the midst of the town rather than taking the long way around the hustle and bustle of Miroh’s lively center. 

“Will you pick it up?” Hyunjin remarks and you roll your eyes again. By the time you return to the keep, your eyes might have rolled out of your head.  ----------------------------------------------

You were walking for about two hours after you left the walls of the capital. The cobblestone streets are lined with lamp posts and signs to guide your way. 

Not that Hyunjin seemed to need any of them. His steps are so sure and confident, not once have you seen him second guess a fork in the path. He’s most likely made this trip more times than you can count.

Neither of you have said a word to one another since he told you to hurry up. The silence wasn’t comfortable, nor was it uncomfortable, it was simply just something occurring. 

You pass by about two villages along the open fields of Miroh before you turn down a more offbeat path from the stone street. It led up to a rather steep looking cliff face. If you squinted, you could see what looked like a door carved into the rock.

“We’re here.” Hyunjin simply said. 

You don’t respond, you only walk after him.

The two of you are about ten feet away from the door when Hyunjin suddenly turns and looks down at you.

“Camus’ temper is quite awful,” he warns, “I do suggest you keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking.”

Every sarcastic retort died on the tip of your tongue, it just wasn’t worth the battle with him. Plus, the look on his face was rather pleading. Gone was the arrogant, bored look to his face. 

“Whatever you say, Hyunjin.”

Content with your answer, Hyunjin turns around and walks up to the door. He leans in and tugs on a string that seems to be attached to a rock outside and then threaded through a chiseled hole in the cliff face and inside.

A bell rings on the inside of the door as soon as Hyunjins fingers pull it.

‘Clever.’ you admit in your head.

The sound of several locks comes from the door and a slot opens to reveal a set of piercing gold eyes. They lock on Hyunjin first, then you, then back to Hyunjin, to you again, and then once more back to Hyunjin.

“What?’ a voice asks.

“It is time for our bi-monthly exchange, Camus.” Hyunjin puts on a rather gentle, yet fake sounding, voice.

The eyes narrow and stare at Hyunjin for a long moment before the slot slides closed and several more locks sound like they’re being undone. 

The sheer amount of contraptions that it sounds like he’s undoing is enough to let a small giggle fall from your lips. Hyunjin whips his head around to glare at you.

You jump a bit and bite your lip to keep the laughter in just as the door swings open.

A taller man with golden skin opens the door and waves you both to come in. When his head turns to the side, you see the sharp pointed ears. Two High Elves in one day, it must be your lucky day.

Hyunjin walks towards the door and you follow, Camus immediately closes it behind you. He then slides several of the locks back in place, but most definitely not all of them. 

An immediate smell of decay assaults your nose and your face pulls into a disgusted sneer before you can even think twice about it.

Elves are usually so sanitary, what in the world was that smell?

Camus’ golden eyes snap towards you so fast it sends your blood cold. “Does something displease you about my home, woman?” Hyunjin looks over at you, his eyebrow twitches in annoyance.

“Nay,” you shake your head quickly, “I believe a bug may have followed me inside, that is all. I apologize.” You bow your head a little in an apology.

Camus stares at you for a long moment before turning and walking further into his underground home. A small sigh of relief leaves your chest, and you’re pretty sure you hear Hyunjin exhale as well.

Inside the cave it’s so dingy and moist; it’s everything you thought what Hyunjin’s work room would look like. If your nose is correct, rotting food fills the barrels along the walls, mold and mildew growing in the corners.

Was he attempting to grow something? Mushrooms were used in many different potions, but he could at least invest in a small shed to put outside. 

There’s one large room and then a doorway towards the back that leads to another. You’re not sure where that doorway leads, but Camus makes no move to go towards it, instead, he walks to the side of the room and behind a countertop.

“And what did you come for this time, court wizard?” it’s now that you notice his thick Elvish accent. 

Hearing his voice brings back so many memories of your father reading you bedtime stories. His voice was always so thick with the Elvish accent that you’re not sure if anyone ever understood him besides you and your mother.

“The usual supplies. Do you have any greenwood bark this time around?”

“Nay, not the season for it.”

“Bah,” Hyunjin curses under his breath and thinks for a moment, “Orange Day-Blossom stem?”

“Are you working on a new fire spell?”

“Aye, and I cannot get it to land physical impact damage, only temperature. I’m wondering if I possibly chew on the stem beforehand that I could possibly increase my pressure threshold in my palm.”

Camus’ eyebrows raise and he ponders Hyunjin’s statement for a long moment, “The blossom stem may help, but so could using a granite stone.”

“Any enchantment on the crystal?”

“None.”

“I will have to try that as well.”

Their magical jargon begins to fly over your head. You tried to keep up at first, but after a while it started to go in one ear and out the other. Perhaps if you had been able to study magic from a younger age, you would’ve been able to follow their conversation.

But you can’t.

Your eyes begin to wander around the underground room. Chests and barrels are the main pieces of furniture, a few shelves with various bowls and jars on them. 

One of the tables to your left against the wall has several weapons on top. You can just tell they have strong enchantments on them. One particular shield is emanating a soft blue glow. 

A small bedroll lies in the corner, about ten different journals all stacked up on the side nearest to the wall. Everything in your body wants to walk around and peek at the ingredients this seller has, but Hyunjin’s warning keeps your feet glued to your place on the floor.

“They were only five gold a piece last we met.” Hyunjin’s voice soured.

“Pardon me, I did not realize you were also a merchant in charge of the harvest of specialized goods. The rate has gone up.” Camus responds with an equal level of anger. 

Uh oh.

Two wooden chairs sat on either side of a wooden table to your right. There was a metal stein on top accompanied by a half-empty plate. It looks like your arrival interrupted a meal. 

When you look up, you see that Camus had his entire focus on Hyunjin. Slowly, you step closer to the table. 

“The rate has gone up-“ Hyunjin sputters, “That is four times the previous amount! I could get this in the capital.”

“Then get it there, Hwang.”

Hyunjin’s shoulders tense, his jaw muscles clench and unclench. His voice dips to a low octave. “I have told you not to call me that.”

Your hand reaches out slowly, the metal stein sliding along your fingertips. 

“And I have told you not to question my prices. Or have you forgotten and become daft? Time with humans can do that.” Camus’ voice dropped to a dangerous tone. 

Every danger sense in your body was going off. Your fingers wrap around the handle of the stein. 

Camus seems to have forgotten you were in the room completely. He leans over the counter towards Hyunjin, who doesn’t flinch or move away.

“Do I need to remind you who you’re dealing with?” Camus leans in further to Hyunjin. 

Everything happened at once. 

Camus reached up as fast as he could to grab the back of Hyunjin’s head and slam it down against the top of the counter. 

You launched the metal tankard at his hard as you could. 

The twang of the metal hitting his skull would’ve been comical in any other circumstance. 

Camus’ head recoils back and he releases Hyunjin’s head to grab at his own. Hyunjin stands up quickly and backpedals away from the counter at the same time you lunge forward. 

Both of your hands plant on the counter and you vault yourself over it, sending a nice, hard kick into Camus' chest to knock him over. 

A grunt and a growl leaves his throat. 

Camus recovers quickly, he grabs your ankle with a surprisingly strong grip and swings your body like it’s no more than a rag doll. 

You’re suddenly flying through the air and hitting a rather solid surface that yelps and cushions your shared collision into the wall.

All of the air is forced from your lungs on impact. 

Two warm arms are wrapped tightly around your waist when you hit the floor. 

It takes a second for you to get your bearings. Camus threw you into the wall that the table of weapons was against. All of the enchanted items were scattered over the floor. 

When you look up, Camus is moving his hands in the air. All of the light from the candles in the room fly towards his right palm like moths to a flame. 

Your eyes widen and a feeling of panic rips through you. 

A pained moan comes from behind you and you immediately register that it’s Hyunjin, his arms are loosely draped around your waist still. 

From his groan, it sounds like his head is still in the clouds from the impact into the wall. 

Camus’ hand pulls back to strike. 

As if acting on their own, your hands quickly reach over and grab the shield you spotted earlier. The straps fit around your forearm snugly.

Just in the nick of time, you bring the shield up and cover both you and Hyunjin. An enormous wave of heat washes over the two of you. 

The blast that hits the shield pushes you back and your arms scream in exertion. It feels like you’re standing under a waterfall of fire with the constant pushing. 

A low scream tears from your lips as it's taking every ounce of effort to not give into the push. Sweat drips all the way down your neck and forehead. 

One of the arms around your waist moves and there’s a slight pressure at your back between your shoulder blades.  

It feels like the blast lasts forever but in reality, it's only for a few seconds. 

There’s a split second of reprieve where Camus brings his hands around to prepare for another attack. 

With this miraculous opening, you spin around on your knees and create a discus like momentum to fling the shield at him. 

“No-!” Hyunjin’s voice is cut short. 

As soon as the shield makes contact with Camus, an explosion is heard. 

In slow motion, Hyunjin’s hand grabs the back of your tunic and yanks you back onto the ground. Your back hits the dirt and immediately his body comes on top of yours and straddles you completely, his head tucked into your neck to shield his own face. 

A slight purple glimmer covers the two of you and as if you’re watching behind a window, you see a shockwave of fire and smoke blow around. 

He must be putting up a ward to shield you both from the blast. 

Hyunjin begins panting against your neck, you can feel every exhale against your skin clear as day. Each breath is hot and long. It must be taking so much strength to keep a ward of this size up. 

His muscles straining, Hyunjin’s hands flex and unflex at the sides of your head, all of his weight resting on his elbows. His body begins to tremble. You can feel most of it pressed against you. The heat from his body permeates through your light armor. 

With this ward up, even sound isn’t penetrating through. In your ear, each exhale from Hyunjin’s mouth goes right into your ear. Your entire body shivers. 

After a few seconds, it’s just smoke that fills the room outside the ward. The glimmer fades as Hyunjin drops the ward. 

“Shield of absorption,” Hyunjin pants into the crook of your neck. When his lips move, they slide over your skin. “Whatever attack it absorbs, it can unleash back.”

“Impressive.” Your voice wavers and almost cracks. 

He needs to get off you. Now.

“I had the situation handled.” 

With how weak his voice is, you don’t think so. 

“I’ll remember that next time I watch your skull smack into a countertop.”

“You did not give me a chance.”

“You did not need one, I was sent here to protect you.”

“I can protect myself.”

“Then why did I come?”

Hyunjin finally lifts his head from the crook of your neck and looks down at you. It’s not until now that you notice he has dark red eyes, they would look brown if you were any further away. 

“And here I thought you might enjoy spending time with another Elf.”

As if a bucket of ice water was dumped over your head, your body tenses. Your heart begins beating uncontrollably and your eyes widen. 

“I am not… I do not know of what you speak of.”

Instead of answering, Hyunjin moves his hands closer to the sides of your head. 

In symmetric movements, he runs his finger tips up the length of your ears, pausing just below the tip. 

Electricity shoots down your neck and into your chest, all the way down to your toes, which curl in your boots. A tingling sensation blossoms in your head and you feel it on the roof of your mouth. 

A shiver wracks your body at the feeling. In a complete contrast from the ice water feeling, now it’s as if your body was dropped into a volcano. 

Everyone knows how sensitive an Elf’s ears are. Especially another Elf. 

Involuntarily, your eyelids come down and you bite your lip to stop a small noise from escaping your throat. It was a borderline whine that tried to come out. 

“As I thought.” He whispers down to you.

Reality washes over you and your eyes snap open. A snarl pulls at your lips and you shove him off of you. 

Hyunjin stares up at you with a cocky smirk while you brush the dirt off of your clothes. 

“You will say nothing.” You point down to him, your eyes hardened and serious. 

Hyunjin scoffs and crosses his arm, “You must be daft if you think they do not already know.”

You swallow nervously and look around, the smoke is beginning to settle. Camus was nowhere to be found. Maybe that giant soot spot on the ground is him. 

“They do not know, they will not know.” You reach up and pull your hair down over your ears. 

“Why do you care if they know of your blood?” He prods.

Does he not now?

“Let it go, Hyunjin.”

“It is not-“

You cut him off, “Enough!” Your eyes are fierce and your skin feels alive. “You will not utter a word about this to anyone in Miroh. Do I make myself clear Hwang Hyunjin.” 

Now it’s his turn for his eyes to harden. His chin dips downwards and he looks up at you with a murderous glare. 

“I will wait for you outside. Gather whatever materials you can salvage.” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the shield sitting on the ground, completely unscathed. On your way to the door, you scoop it off the ground and take it with you.

[a-million-usernames]

Hope In A Faraway Place - Chapter 2

Synopsis: The year is 1917. America has just declared war on Germany after suffering hundreds of civilians lost at sea at the hands of German submarines. Nearly a month after signing up for the newly implemented registry, Kylo finds himself on a boat to France, drafted in the first World War. Little does he know just how much his life is about to change when he meets you, a nurse at the Hautmont Hospital. But outward appearances are not at all what they seem.

Warnings: War, Violence, Gun Violence, World War I, Bodily Injury Word Count: 2,366 As always, you can find this over on AO3.

The front line is much quieter than Kylo had been led to believe when he’d listened to the radio broadcasts prior to his arrival in France. The small attacks they’ve received since he’d joined in the trenches have been few and far between, and the palpable tension that had rolled off of himself and the other newcomers upon arrival has since dissipated entirely, replaced by boredom. Kylo, Hux, Poe, and Finn sit around a worn wooden table in one of the many underground dugouts that connect to the trenches, a single bulb strung up from a wire on the ceiling lighting the small space. Each one holds cards in their hands, a scorecard and pencil sitting just to Hux’s right. Finn is the first to set a card down in the center of the table: a ten of spades.

Kylo smirks to himself, his gaze flickering over the edge of the cards in his hand to where Hux sits across from him, a smirk of his own plastered on his features. If a ten is the best Finn or Poe have, then Kylo and Hux will be sure to sweep this round, and it will be all they need to claim an overall victory for the night. Hux lays down a Queen of the same suit, the move causing both Poe and Finn to grunt in unison.

“We don’t have all night, Dameron.” Kylo’s voice cuts through the quiet of the space, and Poe’s gaze flickers to where he sits, a look of irritation flashing across his features before a smirk of his own quirks his lips upward.

Poe tosses down the King of spades, effectively besting Hux’s play. It’s up to Kylo to pull out the win now. He’s prepped and ready, his free hand lifting to grasp the edge of the Ace that he holds, pinching the card between his thumb and forefinger. Kylo’s in the midst of pulling it free from the other cards in his grasp when all of a sudden the ground shakes and a loud boom can be heard.

“It’s the Germans,” screams out someone from just outside of where the four men sit. “They’ve advanced across ‘No Man’s Land’!” The words muddy and mix with a myriad of indistinguishable screaming, the sound of rapid gunfire quickly following. In an instant, the men shove their chairs back, each one of them rising up to dart away from the table, grabbing their rifles as they go. Cards fall haphazardly towards the ground, dropped without so much as a care, some of them floating to the dirt floor, others managing to land on the table. It’s absolute chaos the moment that they step out from the dugout. Men are yelling, running in every direction while gunfire continues to spout off, the sounds much louder now. Overhead, a German plane flies, two British ones chasing it, exchanging their own gunfire in the aerial battle as the war rages on in the trenches and field below.

“Three sixty-ninth! First wave! Ten seconds!” Chewie’s voice carries even above the sounds of gunfire, his call to arms commanding the men to gather into formation in preparation of storming the fields above the trenches. Kylo falls into line beside Hux, their bodies coming to rest against the slope of the trench, feet digging into the dirt to get a good push-off point. The two men exchange glances, neither one saying a word to the other, instead opting for a nod in the end just as Chewie lifts the whistle to his mouth and blows, the sound carrying down throughout the trench.

A thunderous roar sounds as hundreds of men rush up out of the trenches, Hux and Kylo quick to follow suit, exhaling battle cries of their own while they charge the field, guns at the ready. Explosions sound all around them, kicking up dirt higher than anything that Kylo’s ever witnessed, creating large craters in their wake and clouding the field with a gray haze that makes it difficult to see. Some of the bombs hit their mark, sending men flying through the air, tearing up others into unrecognizable pieces. What the Germans don’t hit with their bombs, they make up for in their gunfire, bullets whirring and ripping through the air to cut down a large chunk of the men that Kylo fights alongside with.

Continuing to charge the field, Kylo utilizes the bayonet on the end of his rifle to pierce the stomach of one of the oncoming Germans. There is the briefest moment of shock that flashes across his face, the same look mirrored by the soldier on the receiving end of his weapon just as Kylo yanks back the rifle to remove the bayonet. The man collapses to the ground, hands clutching the wound as blood begins to stain the wool material of his uniform.

It isn’t until he hears Hux calling for him that he’s snapped from this moment, Kylo’s gaze shifting to the left to scan where he’d heard the voice come from. He hears his name called again, and it’s then that he realizes that Hux is on the ground, hands gripping a wound of his own. Slinging the strap of his rifle up and over his shoulder, Kylo breaks out into a sprint to reach him, feet carrying him past other fallen soldiers and torn up terrain until he skids to a halt on his knees besides Hux.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” It’s the only word that’s able to leave Kylo’s mouth while unsteady hands move to push Hux’s out of the way so he can see the damage that’s been done.

Hux inhales a shaky breath, eyes casting upward towards the grey, overcast sky before they turn back down to Kylo again. “I’ve been hit. I got — ” He chokes on the words, a rough cough shaking his entire body, face contorting into one of pain when he winces. Only when the couch subsides does he speak again, finishing his shot. “I got shot.”

That much, Kylo thinks, is apparent. Just from a quick assessment, Kylo can see that Hux has taken a hit to his right shoulder, left hip, and stomach. If he’s lucky, and if Kylo can bring him back to the trenches, he just might have a shot at living. “We’ve got to get you back,” he says breathlessly to Hux who’s already on his second coughing fit, his head shaking from side to side.

“You can’t,” Hux replies, his voice weak. “Leave me.” Kylo opens his mouth to protest, but the moment that he does, Hux reaches up to grasp Kylo’s uniform, yanking him down nearly to his level on the ground. “You know what you have to do.”

He does.

“I do,” he replies, the words nearly lost as another blast rings out nearby. Without further hesitation, Kylo yanks himself out of Hux’s grasp and turns to grab onto the back of the collar of Hux’s own uniform, beginning to drag him back away from the battle and towards the trenches.

Any and all protests made by Hux are drowned out by the artillery and gunfire, and up ahead, the trench has already come into view, the mounds of dirt they’d rushed out from just out of reach. They’ve nearly arrived when an unseen enemy nearby lobs an Eierhandgranate in their direction, the small grenade exploding on impact the moment that it meets the ground in front of Kylo, sending both he and Hux flying backwards as pieces of rock and metal follow, sharp edges cutting into Kylo’s face and uniform.

The wind is knocked out of Kylo when his back hits the ground, the breath leaving his lungs with a whoosh, eyes rolling back in his head briefly as pain cuts across his face. Any and all sound of the battle that rages on around them has now been muted by the ringing that fills his ears, the vision in his right eye is clouded with red as blood pools in place there, and soon enough, his world goes black.

----------------------------

When Kylo wakes, he is no longer on the battlefield. Instead, he finds himself lying on the comfort of a mattress in what appears to be a hospital. He makes an attempt to move, but is stopped short by the immense pain that radiates outward from his chest. Kylo winces, the slightest whimper escaping him when he lowers his head back down onto the pillow. His left hand lifts, gently tracing the cloth that’s wrapped around his chest before he reaches higher, finding the left half of his face bandaged as well.

“Oh.” The breathy sound captures his attention immediately, and when he whips his head to the side to look at the source of the sound, he regrets the decision immediately. He feels dizzy, lightheaded, and if he does that again he feels that he’ll undoubtedly pass out.

His left eye closes, and though the ringing in his ears still persists, he’s still able to hear the soles of your shoes against the floor when you step forward. “Nice to see that you’re finally awake.”

Kylo slowly, slowly turns his head, waiting for the dizziness to pass before he risks opening his eye again, and when he does, he finds that you are standing at his bedside, a warm smile beaming down at him.

“Hux?” His voice is hoarse from the lack of use, and he can tell by the way that your smile falters and morphs into a frown that you’re unsure of what he’s saying. He swallows, throat dry, but he still persists, needing to know if Hux is alright. “My… My friend. Hux. Did he make it?”

Your mouth forms a small ‘o’ in recognition, hands clasped in front of you when you nod. “He’s here. Alive, yes, though still not out of the woods.”

Kylo exhales a sigh of relief, but even something as small as that sets off the pain in his chest, his face contorting into one that reflects how he’s feeling, and a groan slipping past his lips.

“You need to take it easy.” He wants to laugh at that, but then thinks better of it, all things considered. “You’ve sustained some serious damage. We’ve sutured up the wound on your face and your chest, but your ribs are broken. And…” You inhale a breath, your head shaking. “I fear you’ve suffered a concussion with how long you’ve been out.”

“How long?”

“A full day,” you reply softly, unclasping your hands so you can begin to check the bandages. “I’ll take you to see your friend, if you like.”

That captures Kylo’s attention. His head nods slowly so as not to set off yet another spat of dizziness, and only once you’ve given him the once over, satisfied that he’s progressing properly thus far, you lift a hand with your index finger extended upward. “Give me a moment.”

He watches as you turn and disappear for a few moments, his attention never leaving the doorway until you return with a wheelchair pushed in front of you. Stopping once you’re back at his bedside, you abandon the wheelchair momentarily in order to help him up from the bed. It’s slow going, helping to lift him up into a sitting position, ensuring that you go at such a slow pace that he doesn’t become lightheaded. From there, you aid him in swinging his legs over to the bed’s edge, and then the two of you move towards the wheelchair. Kylo lowers himself down without your help, only wincing once when his ribs scream at him in protest.

It takes one good, hearty push to get the wheelchair rolling thanks to Kylo’s stature, but once the wheels start turning, it’s easy going exiting the room to maneuver down the hall to where Hux lies in a room of his own. He’s a pitiful sight, Kylo thinks to himself when you stop the wheelchair at his bedside. He’s as pale as Kylo’s ever seen him, unmoving beneath the covers that rest across his body, stopping at his chest.

“We took him straight to surgery when you two arrived,” you say, breaking through Kylo’s thoughts. “The worst of it was the hit he took to his stomach.” But of course, Kylo already knew that. That’s what he had been afraid of. When he fails to respond, you take a tentative step back, moving to the end of the bed. “I’ll give you two some time.”

“Wait,” he says when you’ve nearly left the room. He waits for you to turn around to face him again before he speaks again. “Stay.”

There is a slight hesitation on your part, but when Kylo refuses to look away from where you stand, you nod your head and comply with his request. This time when you approach the bed, you take one of the chairs from the corner of the room and scoot it to the end of the bed and have a seat.

“Where are we? What hospital is this?”

You shift a little in your seat, ankles crossing while your hands smooth out the fabric of the nurse’s uniform you currently wear. “You’re in Hautmont.”

Kylo’s eye widens at this new information. “Isn’t that — ”

“German occupied, yes.”

His jaw works, lips pulling in slightly when he swallows. “How did we get here?”

“You were brought in by some farmers; pulled from the battlefield and transported to a halfway point where they took over transporting.”

His brow creases when he listens to you, a frown pulling the corners of his mouth downward.

“I know you have more questions, and in time you’ll get your answers. But for now, you need to rest, as does your friend. If he manages to steer clear of infection, I think he may have a real chance of pulling through.”

Kylo nods, saying no more when you rise up from your seat and make your way to where he sits, hands grasping the handles of the wheelchair.

“Not to worry,” you say as you begin to wheel him out of the room. “I’ll bring you here daily for a visit if you wish.”

He does. Very much so.

[salstray]

Luck of the Draw - part 1

Ghost x fem!Reader - Left 4 Dead/Cod AU

This story is written in first person. I understand that some people don't like first person reader inserts, so if you are one of them, please just keep on scrolling! And if the thought of a left 4 dead/cod au sounds fun, but this one doesn't appeal to you? Feel free to write your own! Or request it from a favorite author, as long as they are open for requests and au ideas~

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Warnings: None in this part. Its really just a meet cute with guns <3

Words: lil over 2k!

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Part 2

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Weirdly enough, it's not the zombies you really have to worry about during a zombie apocalypse. They become the norm after a few weeks. You learn the difference between the show, shuffling, dragging gait of a reborn corpse over the quick, smart steps of the real enemy. It’s not the growls or vaguely pained moans of mindless hunger that make your heart beat faster and your lungs burn as you hold your breath and listen as carefully as you can. It’s the voices. The words. After being alone for so long, you’d think I’d be excited to find another person; living and breathing. Real. But I wasn’t.

In fact, I felt nothing but pure fear at the sound of a human’s voice. A man’s voice. Deep. Rumbling. Accented. Close. 

I was in a house. A two story suburban home with an attic, which I was currently hiding in, tucked behind a box that held dusty baseball trophies for someone named Michael, my salvaged rifle clenched between my fingers. My knuckles were tight and my palms were sweaty. I was on one knee, the barrel aimed right at the hatch that led down into the hallway. The drawstring was broken and I’d brought the stick I used to yank it down up here with me and there was a good chance, a great chance even, that whoever the fuck was down there wouldn’t even see the thin line that separated it from the rest of the ceiling, yet I still sat there. Dead silent. Waiting.

His steps were light. It had been the creak of the stairs that gave him away and the quiet growl of his voice that had sent my heart racing. And it was the very clear statement that I heard a few seconds after the panic started to fade that brought all the adrenaline back with a vengeance.

“There’s an attic.” 

Then another voice. Not as deep. Accented differently. 

“No string or anythin’. Can’t pull it down.” 

A few moments of silence followed. I shifted in place, my legs starting to ache from my half crouch. Then there was a loud BANG and I flinched and yelped in surprise as I watched the ladder rattle in place, sending dust up into the air. 

I cursed myself silently and stood up, backing up towards the round window behind me, the barrel of my gun locked on the ladder and the butt of it secure against my shoulder.

“Somethin’s up there,” the second voice said. Quieter than before, but not quiet enough for me to miss. 

“Someone,” the first voice corrected. “Not infected. Would have been screamin’ to hell and back by now.” Another bang against the ladder. Then a third. Knocking, this time. “Oi! Alive up there?”

I didn’t respond. My head turned and my eyes flickered over my shoulder, towards the window. It led to the backyard. Last I’d checked it had been empty, but the zombies shambled wherever they wanted, without care or reason. If the fall broke something, twisted something, I’d be nothing more but meat and memory by the time I got myself together. 

But I couldn’t risk whoever was down there. I couldn’t. It wasn’t a fucking option.

“Could be hurt,” the second voice said softly. 

“Could be waitin’ to blow our heads off.”

I curled my finger around the trigger of my gun, trying to keep my breathing steady and my aim straight. 

“You try, Johnny.”

“What makes you think they'll answer me?” The second voice, Johnny, asked.

“Worth a shot.” 

There was some muttering. A deep sigh. Then a knock on the ladder again. Softer than before. 

“Anyone up there?” Johnny called softly. 

Against my better judgment, I raised my eyes from the sights and licked my lips, opening them a second later to call back to him.

“Fuck off!” 

Another moment of silence.

“Well, they’re alive,” Johnny said, sounding amused. Then he turned his voice back to me. “We don’t want any trouble-” he started, prompting me to speak again.

“Then go the fuck away, otherwise you’ll get it if you want it or not!” 

…more silence.

Then, to my absolute horror, the ladder rattled, then dropped, opening the path down to the hallway. 

I took a few steps back towards the window, my chest heaving as I put my eyes back down to the sights, every inch of my body shaking, leaving my gun unsteady, but still lethal.

“I will fucking shoot you if you come up that ladder!” The trembling showed in my voice, yet I didn’t back down. I could and would follow through on my threat if they tried anything. 

“We don’t want to hurt you, lass, we just want to help-”

“I don’t give a singular fuck what you want! I want you to go away!” 

“We’re military,” my brow furrowed and Johnny took the second of answering silence as a sign to continue. “Lookin’ for survivors to take to a secure base outside the city.” 

“Think I’m just gonna believe that?” I snapped.

“You might, if you let us come up.” 

They’d be cornering me and they knew that. There was no way they didn’t. I glanced behind me again and leaned back to peek out of the window. The yard was still clear, but that fall would still suck massive ass if I had to risk it. And, depending on if I broke anything, it would give these two plenty of time to come grab me from the ground and kill me anyway, if that was even their plan.

Still, it wasn’t like they’d let me come down. Back up and give me space to escape if I needed it… my only options were to either say yes and kill one of them on their way up and jump out the window, or kill one of them after they came up and leap out the window if the second one didn’t shoot me the second I shot his friend. 

I sighed heavily. 

“What’s it gonna be?” The first voice asked. “We haven’t got all day.” 

Rude bitch. Not like I’m just weighing the options of my fucking survival here.

“Give her a minute, Lt.” Lt? The fuck kind of nickname was that?

I sighed again.

“Fine… but if either of you makes a single fucking move that I don't like-”

“Aye, no need to worry! We’ll keep our hands up, right where you can see ‘em!” Johnny’s smile was clear as day in his voice and it was just as bright as I expected it to be when his face followed the sight of his raised hands. 

He was in a short sleeved shirt and a sort of tactical vest. A radio rested on his left shoulder and a rifle was hanging from a strap across his back. From here I could see a Union Jack against his chest, causing me to raise a brow. 

Johnny’s hair was short. Brown. Cut into a slicked back mohawk on his head. The sides of it were surprisingly neat, which meant he’d probably had them shaved down recently, which meant they, at the very least, weren’t lying about having a base somewhere. Military or not, I still wasn’t sure, but knowing part of what they said was the truth was… at least a little reassuring.

The sight of his friend was less reassuring. 

Johnny didn’t move from beside the ladder. He kept his hands in the air, in sight and away from his weapons, as the enormous figure of Lt climbed into view. 

This one was dressed in all black. Long sleeved shirt, gloves, jeans. A mask. The same vest as Johnny, with the radio and the rifle, but I spotted a handful of extra little bits and bobs in all his pouches and along his belt. Knives, ammo, fucking grenades. 

I didn’t pull my finger off the trigger and decided to keep it trained on Lt. Something he was probably used to, what with the skull face printed on his balaclava and all.

“Well?” Johnny said, his head tilting and his smile growing lopsided. “Believe us?”

“You look the part,” I muttered. The thigh holsters and everything really did make them look legit, but still- “Wouldn’t put it above anyone to pull that shit off a corpse, though. Not these days.” 

Johnny shook his head. “Can’t blame you for that. What’s your name, lass?”

“Your's first.” 

He and his friend shared a look. Then he nodded a few times and used his right hand to gesture to himself. “John MacTavish. Call me Soap.” My brow furrowed again, but I let him keep going as he motioned to the masked man. “That’s Simon Riley. My Lieutenant. He goes by Ghost.” Ah, that made Lt make sense. 

“Fitting,” I muttered, my gaze flickering over him. 

“Your turn,” Ghost said. He stared back at me, his eyes half lidded, not even looking slightly worried that I had a gun pointed directly at his face. 

I took a deep breath, momentarily considering lying or just pulling the fucking trigger on Ghost… but there was really no reason to hide that kind of stuff anymore and Soap seemed nice at least…

If I die, I die. Honestly, it would be a fucking blessing to get out of this nightmare-

So I gave it to them. Just my first name, nothing else.

“No last name?” Soap asked.

“Not one I feel like using anymore. Family’s all dead anyway.” 

They both shared a look. Then Soap started to lower his hands and I twisted, turning the barrel of my gun on him and making him freeze.

“Hey now,” he said slowly, raising them back into place. “Like I said, we don’t want trouble. Just want to help.”

“Said you have a base outside the city, too,” I stated. My gun didn’t move from its new target, however I risked a look at Ghost. “How far?”

“Few days walk,” Ghost replied. “As long as things keep quiet.” 

“Few days?”

“Been four, with the two of us,” Soap supplied. “Might take a bit longer with us three, if you come with, but you’re still welcome. Military’s been sending out pairs and packs to round up whoever is left and get them somewhere safe.” 

“Haven’t found anyone else?” I asked quietly. 

“No one as friendly as you,” Soap said, his smile coming back with a vengeance. I hummed and narrowed my eyes at him, but I pulled my finger off the trigger and, ever so slowly, lowered my gun. Both of them visibly relaxed and Ghost set one hand on his own rifle as Soap let his hands fall to his sides. “So… gonna come along? There’s plenty of beds, a little farm they’re using to keep people sustained. Hot water.” 

“Tempting,” I mumbled. “How many people do they have up there?”

“Not as many as they'd hoped for,” Ghost rumbled. 

“Means there’s plenty of food, though.” Soap was definitely a glass half full kinda guy. Couldn’t tell anything about Ghost, yet. 

“How much farther did you guys plan to go?”

Soap shrugged. “Depends entirely on how many people we managed to find. Why? Wanna come help us be heroes?” Ghost turned his half-lidded gaze on Soap and I watched his eyes narrow for a second before he looked back over to me. 

“Don’t know about being a hero, but…,” I shrugged a single shoulder. “Seems kinda wasteful to come out so far just to go back with one person… I could head back on my own. Made it this far, so I might be able-”

“No.” Ghost growled. Soap glanced over at him with a raised brow and I did the same. “Already told you we haven’t found as many people as we’d hoped for. Not gonna risk ya like that. You’ll stick with us.” 

Lieutenant indeed. 

“Alright, Bossy,” I replied. “I’ll… trust you… for now, I guess… not like I have a choice.” Ghost’s eyes narrowed at me that time and Soap’s grin widened as he chuckled. 

“Fair play,” he stated, reaching over to pat Ghost on the shoulder twice. “Let’s get goin’ then. We’re burnin’ daylight!”

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thank you for reading :3

have a lovely day!

[a103-chris-mm]

Witch Trials

matt sturniolo x witch reader part 4

warnings:lots of fluff, read other parts first.

Next Morning

When y/n awoke, sunlight filtered through the window, dancing across the wooden floor. Her head rested on Matt’s chest, his arms holding her close. For a moment, she just breathed him in. Warm. Alive. Here.

He stirred beneath her, blinking against the light. “Morning.”

Then she looked up at him, eyes shining with realization. “We made it.”

He gave her a chuckle and, with hoarseness, said, “We did.”

She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy. Not really. Not until now. You’re here. Out of harm’s reach. The world can keep spinning and burning and breaking, but not in here. Not with us.”

He smiled, brushing the hair from her face. “You have always made your own kind of magic. That smile of yours, though. That’s my favorite magic.” A grin was creeping on his face.

Wrinkles appeared at the corners of her eyes. “That was mortifying to hear. Please never say those words again.”

He laughed. “I’ll think about it.”

They stayed wrapped in each other for a while longer, the cottage wrapped in silence and golden light. And when they finally rose, y/n took Matt’s hand and led him out into the morning.

The woods greeted them with a gust of wind. Birds sang. Dew clung to the grass. She led him to the pen where two goats bleated softly, and together they fed them, laughing when one tried to eat Matt’s sleeve.

“Careful,” she teased, “They sense kindness. Makes them quite bold.”

Later, they knelt side by side in the garden, hands in the soil as they observed the earth’s beauty, checking on the spring roots. y/n pointed out the new growth of her parsley.

Matt just kept glancing over at her, eyes full of something deep and unspoken.

“What?” she asked, smudging dirt on his nose playfully.

“Just… watching you in your world. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

And there, under the sun and between the rows of growing plants, they kissed again….slow, steady, without fear.

For once, they didn’t have to run.

For once, the world was quiet.

And in that quiet, love grew wild and free….just like them.

~~

It was nearly dusk when the knock came. It was soft, uncertain, like someone afraid of being heard.

y/n wiped her hands on her apron, exchanging a glance with Matt as she moved to the door. When she opened it, a boy stood there—no older than ten, skinny as a branch, with tangled dark hair and a bloodied scrape down his arm.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t know who else to come to.”

“You’re not in trouble,” y/n said gently, kneeling. “Let’s take care of that cut first, alright?”

Inside, the boy sat nervously on a stool while she cleaned the wound with herbs and warm water. He hissed but didn’t cry. His wide eyes searched over the cottage. At the glowing jars, the plants strung from the ceiling, the way the fire flickered even without wood being added.

“You’re a witch,” he said, not accusing. Just curious.

y/n looked up, a bit surprised by the calmness in his tone. “I’m someone who listens to the earth,” she said. “And who’s kind to those who need it. That’s what matters most, isn’t it?”

The boy nodded. “I’m Benjamin,” he mumbled. Hesitantly, he began, “I’ve… always felt different. I’ve conversed with animals before. The wind listens to me when I’m scared. My parents hate it when I mention it. They say it’s nonsense. I think they forget I’m there most of the time. “

Matt, listening from across the room, stiffened. He exchanged a look with y/n, something sharp and protective rising between them.

After a long pause, Benjamin looked at her, eyes pleading. “Would you be willing to show me how to control it. How to be like…..you?”

y/n’s heart ached. She held his hand and gave a small, motherly smile. “Of course I can.”

From then on, Benjamin came twice a week. At first, he would sneak through the woods very cautiously. But slowly, his steps grew more confident, and his smile grew brighter.

Matt wanted to help too, so he built him a stool just his size and started teaching him to read—old books, stories of stars and myths, all the knowledge Matt had hoarded in his mind for years, now could be shared without judgment or questioning.

y/n started by showing him how to feel the roots beneath his feet and to speak to the wind without words.

One afternoon, as she watched Matt patiently trace his finger across a page with Benjamin on their couch, y/n leaned in the doorway, heart swelling. She didn’t notice Matt glance up at her, smiling softly before returning to his lesson.

Later that night, after Benjamin had gone home, y/n sat by the fire, brushing dried petals into a cauldron. Matt came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“You’d be a wonderful mother,” he murmured.

She turned her head slightly, her lips brushing his cheek. “And you’d be a perfect father. He adores you, you know.”

Matt kissed the curve of her neck. “I adore you.”

She turned fully then, her hands sliding into his hair. “This life we’ve built… I didn’t think I’d ever have it.”

“You do,” he said, voice low. “You have me. Always.”

Their kiss was tender, built from the ache of what they’d lost and the joy of what they’d found later.

 2 Weeks Later

Benjamin began coming more often, sometimes even staying the night when the forest grew too dark to cross. He curled up on the couch under a quilt y/n had stitched herself.

One evening, as rain pattered against the windows, Matt and y/n sat together reading by the fire while Benjamin painted with crushed berries and herbs.

“He could stay,” Matt said softly, so only YN would hear. “If he ever wanted to. He already feels like he’s part of us.”

She looked at him, heart so full it nearly hurt. “Then he is.”

Benjamin looked up just then, grinning. “Look what I made!”

She looked at him, heart so full it nearly burst open. “Then he is.”

Silas looked up just then, grinning. “Look what I made!”

He held up a messy painting—three figures holding hands beneath a tree. One tall and strong. One soft and bright. One small, but growing.

y/n and Matt looked at each other, eyes glassy with unshed emotion.

“It’s beautiful,”y/n  whispered.

Benjamin beamed.

Matt gently bumped her shoulder with his. “We’re becoming something, aren’t we?”

She nodded. “Like a family .”

And in the firelight, with Benjamin laughing and the storm safely outside, Matt took y/n’s hand and kissed her knuckles like a vow.

For the first time, they weren’t just surviving.

They were living.

miemie; uhh not proof read, sorry if its boring.

taglist; @pair-of-pantaloons @sturns-mermaid @matt-sturnioloo @oopsiedaisydeer

[deepergrooves]

André 3000's 'New Blue Sun' Vancouver Review

Highly anticipated ambient jazz show marks a new dawn but leaves fans ATLienated

Birdsong, crickets and rich ambient soundscapes echoed through the deep purples, rosy reds and starlit ceiling of the Queen Elizabeth Theatre in Vancouver on Friday October 11. The scene was perfectly set for a first glimpse at André 3000's highly anticipated 'New Blue Sun Live' Concert series, an unexpected leftfield step into instrumental ambient jazz from the seven-time grammy winning hip hop icon.

Warm up act serpentwithfeet created a suitably gentle atmosphere with kind-hearted crowd participation numbers and feel good R&B. Despite a few empty seats in the pit, likely a result of the high ticket pricing, the room was poised and curious to see how this drastic stylist shift would translate to the stage.  

Origins, synergy and mystical synchronicity

The cosmic butterfly effect that led to the creation of André 3000's 'New Blue Sun' album has already become a tale of folklore. There have been countless stories of André, seemingly never to be found without some kind of wind instrument in hand, serenading unsuspecting Uber drivers and wandering the strip of his new home of Venice Beach like a nomadic jazz monk. It was one such encounter with legendary Californian music arranger and percussionist Carlos Niño in a Venice Beach grocery store that apparently sparked a creative partnership between the two that birthed the 'New Blue Sun's album project. Niño does admit that he had been keeping an eye out for André when he heard he'd moved to town but don't let the truth get in the way of a good story!

Before this reawakening, again mythically attributed to a Hawaiian ayahuasca trip (referenced in the album track 'That Night In Hawaii When I Turned Into A Panther And Started Making These Low Register Purring Tones That I Couldn't Control...Shit Was Weird'), André admitted that he had been suffering with creative block, social anxiety and a mounting sense of pressure to deliver something great in this next phase of his life. In a candid interview with hip hop mogul Rick Rubin on the 'Broken Record' podcast he sounded lost and fearful of his legacy. There was however a flicker of light in André's voice when he began speaking about his new meditative morning breathing routine, involving experimentation with an eclectic set of wind instruments.

Building anticipation - A deep, earthy and aesthetically engaging opening

The show began with a striking visual of a single white beam of light entering a prism just above what looked like a traffic cone before splitting into reds and greens in front of André, backed by his supporting musicians and six lights in a half-crest formation behind the stage. The lighting overall was dark and moody with André just about visible with his red jazz-elder beanie and glasses.

He was stood before a blanket that housed numerous flutes, whistles and other tools. To his right was keyboardist, and Alice Coltrane disciple, Surya Botofasina. At the back was the aforementioned Carlos Niño who seemed to set the tone with various percussion instruments, gongs, shakers and even plants which were a big source of inspiration for the album. To his left, composer and percussionist Deantoni Parks, responsible for the pulsing beat that surfaced through the evening.

The opening song built slowly with Carlos Niño employing various rattles, bushes and what looked like a slinky being swung above head at various points. André let out a mix of guttural and high pitched yelps and animalistic sounds in what felt like a Sun Ra-esque free jazz introduction. Some in the audience seemed bemused early on but for the most part the crowd was still on board and excited with yelps of approval in response to André.

After the first song, André reassuringly addressed the crowd with his southern charm and silky charisma. He introduced the band, cracked a few light jokes and explained the approach to the night - a purely improvised experiment and journey that we would all be embarking on together. It felt courageous and bold, in keeping with the album itself, but what was to follow unfortunately felt for the most part meandering, lacking cohesion and at times difficult to digest.

A brave pursuit but ATLienating for fans

There were some moments where it felt like the embers of an idea were burning but they were never fully formed or realized. A deep, dark primal drum beat from Deantoni Parks ultimately petered out. A lightsaber like hum and arpeggio riff from Surya Botofasina that felt like it could take things in a cosmic, electronic direction (adjacent to album track 'BuyPoloDisorder's Daughter Wears An André 3000 Shirt Embroidered') again pulsated and dropped out before ever taking hold.

Overall, there was a lack of melody, hooks, breaks or structure. There was no pattern, story or resolution to the jam-session musings. There were also no direct songs or distinct elements from the album that could be latched onto. Pure experimentation is a noble pursuit, but for a new group and an artist who is admittedly new to the instruments and finding his feet, it felt like a lot to take on.

At one point André began riffing in what sounded like an imitation of a primal language, which he jokingly admitted he had been making up on the spot. It was a funny moment, but a bit too close to the bone for someone attempting to communicate using instruments he wasn't necessarily fluent in.

It was hard to tell if the accomplished band were limited by André's range or if they were intentionally playing a supporting role but either way they were consigned to little more than background hushes, atmospheric flashes and ponderous patterns.

The final crescendo, albeit very charged, was particularly challenging and had the feel of a free jazz ayahuasca trip being led by an inexperienced astral traveler, with Andre finally slowing things down by breathing rhythmically into the microphone as the lights turned to blue.

New Blue Sun - A New Dawn for André 3000

I still love André 3000 and support this artistic change; the New Blue Sun album is fantastic and deserving of acclaim. This is undoubtedly the start of a process and an experimental phase for a long term project, but the current iteration felt ill equipped for such an ambitious undertaking. Despite the dark mood lighting, the stage left nowhere to hide. In the end, there was a limp standing ovation but no calls for an encore.

This felt like a harsh reset, a journey of purification teetering on the edge of a bad trip, but cleansing for what will hopefully now be futile ground for one of our generations true shining stars. The New Blue Sun is rising, but the cold light of day can be harsh.

[laceyjane44]

GaaSaku 2023 FanFest Day21

Prompt: "What will this cost me?"

(Mythical AU)

Compared to the winds raging over the open desert, the inside of the canyon’s cave was quiet and still.

Once free from the gales of the outside, Gaara pulled the deep hood of his cloak down and unwrapped the scarf from about his face. Sand trickled off him as he shook out his clothing, the dull flapping of the fabric echoing deeper into the cave. He had made it, he had found it, right where he was told it would be. He took one last look at the world beyond the entrance, to the endless dunes he had traveled through to get here, and hoped that his journey wouldn’t be in vain.

With a torch pulled from his pack, he doused it in lamp oil and set it aflame, the flickering light illuminated his way into the tunnel growing deeper and darker before him. This would be his last chance, he knew it, and if he wanted to turn back, he could only do so now. Steeling his will and swallowing his fear, he refused to back down and run. This is what he journeyed for, this is what he had been seeking, and the only way to attain what he desired would be through his deal.

Setting off, his steps slow and cautious, Gaara kept himself alert to the changes in the air around him. As the entrance to the cave became further behind him, the sounds of the wind outside had subsided, and he found himself isolated in darkness. Only a flickering dome of light followed him, the walls of the cave growing narrower the deeper he went, and the air quickly became stale and musty. At his feet were the bones of animals that had sought this cave as their final resting place, the possessions of those to travel here before him, unaware that this would be their tomb as well, and strange markings covered the walls. Like scratch marks, they were slashed into the rock, though they were high above his head, even on the ceiling, and he knew of only one thing capable of etching those marks into the stone.

His heart began to race, his blood ran cold, and he knew it wasn’t due to the sudden chill in the air. He was frightened, anyone in their right mind would have been, though only those mad enough to attempt such a daring expedition would ever hope to make it to where his feet currently tread. He took slow and even breaths, fear would do him no good, and when he approached a thin break in the wall of the cave, a junction that the tunnel had led him to, the pressure in the air around him suddenly changed.

Electric, heavy, and reverberating through his chest, it had nearly made him think to turn back. But he thought of why he had made the dangerous trek into the sands alone, why he had sought this power, and the visions of her face in his memories gave him strength.

Slipping through the narrow passageway, he came out the other side within an open chamber. The feeling of pressure was stronger in here, the air seemed to smell of old musk and dried blood. Gaara held up his torch, the flame illuminating the jagged walls of the chamber, it was stained with splashes of a dark substance.

A warrior since birth, he recognized blood in any form it took. Though, where it had come from was a mystery; there were no bones in here, there were no corpses, but the longer he stood within the space, the stronger the stench of blood became.

Gaara took a deep breath, knowing his fate may be sealed the very same, and readied himself for what was to come.

“I know that which I seek,” he called out into the open space, his voice echoing around him and repeating his words. “And I come prepared to make a deal.”

Silence answered him, the flickering of his flame the only sound to be heard within the cave.

Another deep breath, his exhale shook this time, before he belted out, “Show yourself!” His command bounced between the walls, reverberating the desperation he’d long since felt, and eventually quieted.

Nothing.

The arm hand holding his torch dropped to his side and he huffed. Had he said something wrong? Was this the wrong cave? It couldn’t have been, it was precisely where the fortune teller had advised him, though they begged of him to reconsider. Perhaps the old stories were just that; stories, and there was no deal to be made here.

Frustration bubbled up within him, years of pent-up anger and resentment brimming up to his eyes before he finally fisted a hand in his hair, grit his teeth, and cursed the ancestors of his name. Was there nothing else to be done? “Dammit,” he muttered, his hand clutching the torch at his side in an iron grip before his patience snapped and he hurled it against the wall. “Dammit!”

The torch bounced off the wall, rolling to the ground, the lit oil leaving a flickering trail of flame before its light extinguished. Darkness enveloped him then, a pitch black that was deeper than any night kept awake by the demons of his past and, standing alone in this faraway cave, he felt his shoulders slump.

“Heh,” Gaara laughed as he shook his head, a mild grin on his face. “I’ve finally gone mad.”

A chill swept through the chamber on the back of a sudden draft and when it whipped around him, he covered his eyes as the sand it kicked up sprayed across his face. He couldn’t see where it was coming from, he hadn’t seen another entrance into the chamber, and that pressure returned with force. The weight of it at this time was unimaginable; it bore down on him and nearly drove him to his knees, a ringing in his ears drowning out all thought of panic and retreat, and he could do nothing but hold his head as it flared in pain.

“Not yet,” whispered a voice, deep and guttural, and it seemed to be carried on the very wind that surrounded him.

All at once his torch near the wall was alight again and he jumped in shock. It rolled over to his feet, no longer leaving a trail of burning oil and, choosing sight over the fear of the unknown, he grabbed it and raised it up above him.

At first, he thought it the smoke from the torch that was gathering at the ceiling, but it wasn’t black; it was tinged a crimson red, and from its haze came a light sprinkling of sand.

Gaara froze, his breath stolen from his lungs, and he watched as the smoke churned and congregated, becoming an opaque cloud out of a fine mist. A light, two of them, golden and mesmerizing, took form from within the cloud, and he knew at once the eyes of a jinn were upon him.

From the musky smell in the air, the stench of blood became ever more prominent and, as the smoke descended from the ceiling and those eyes became on level with his own, he willed himself to find strength.

“What do they call you?” it asked, its voice just as raspy and grating to the ears.

Gaara swallowed, a bead of nervous sweat dripping down his temple. “I am called Gaara,” he answered, managing to keep his voice relatively even.

“You know what you seek,” the voice said, it gave Gaara a chill; it had been listening.

“And I am prepared to make a deal,” he assured again, taking a bold step forward toward the repugnant smoke.

He now stood in the center of the chamber and the smoke began to swirl around him and he felt as if eyes were on him from every corner, as if he was being studied. “To what end?”

“Power,” he said. “Influence. I wish to rule these lands.”

A pause as the jinn observed him “Rule them? Why?”

He refused to back down and give in to this instinctual fear coursing through his veins and telling him to run. This was a beast of old, a consumer of men and the downfall of kings; nothing came without a price. “I have given everything to this land,” he began, conviction in his words as his hatred for the people who had scorned him outweighed his fear of this apparition. “I lost my mother to be born, I lost my father to the greed for power, and the sacrifices of my lifelong commitment have been repaid in their desire for my blood.”

The jinn did not respond, those golden eyes, like diamonds glittering in the darkness, only stared silently through him.

He willed himself to remain hardened; an audience with the likes of a jinn was an opportunity that sent nearly all to their graves in failure. “I will suffer at their feet no longer,” he declared. “I will overthrow the systems that had failed me and instill a new law.” His fist clenched at his side, the knuckles around the torch going white. “Mine will be a reign for the ages, a sovereignty that will be unshakable. Those that have denied me will bow at my feet, my judgements untestable and my word absolute.”

The jinn’s smoke closed it, the eyes coming closer, and again he felt as though they stared straight through him. It spoke then, its words chilling him and eliciting a shaken breath. “What of the woman?”

Try as he might, her face flashed through his mind, the vibrancy of her green eyes a color unknown to him in the desert, the hue of her hair unlike any flower that bloomed among the sands. She had stepped into his life like a monsoon in the wake of a century long drought, giving promises of new beginnings and rebirth. Even her gaze falling upon him was like the gentle patter of rain on his face, quenching a thirst he didn’t know he possessed. “There is no woman.”

“I see into your mind,” the jinn warned. “She has infested you.”

Gaara broke his gaze from those floating eyes, unable to bare how they saw the desperate truth.

If he had been able, he would have simply forgotten about her, it would have made this existence of his bearable, but she had captivated him with her exotic allure and he coveted her since. How could he have been so enraptured by the simple glances and kind few words she had thrown his way? He was a hardened warrior that made no qualms over being bathed in blood, made no arguments over being sent to battle, and he had resigned to a lifetime spent as cannon fodder.

But she…she had melted him, and the jinn had already seen that.

“She is above me,” he admitted, his teeth clenched. “Beyond my reach. Her prospects are more than what I can offer, but I refuse to watch another man have her.”

“I know,” the jinn responded. “Your desires lay in a foreign land, for a prize most sought.” The eyes circled him slowly, the mass of smoke leaving a trail around him. “Why?”

Gaara wouldn’t refuse, it would be fruitless to do so. “Had I been stronger, I could have overthrown that land and claimed her, but I failed.”

“Was she your only prize?”

Shaking his head, a cold tingle traveled up his neck as the eyes moved behind him, as if he were prey in the gaze of a cunning predator. “No, but she was the only regret I left behind.”

The pressure returned, a sudden force weighing down on him and a searing heat through his mind. Clutching his head, the pain surged through him and his knees buckled, he groaned as he sunk to the ground. His torch fell beside him, his hands fisted in his hair, doubled over as he tried to breathe through it and keep himself calm.

“A changed man?” the jinn grumbled, amused. A deep and foreboding chuckle echoed throughout the chamber.  “You fool yourself. You only seek to rule these lands to attain her favor. Will you not lose yourself to greed just as your father?”

Knees on the sandy earth, pain subsiding, Gaara remained humbled before the spirit. “She would not have me if I abused the title that I seek,” he said, the truth of his words evident in every memory that he possessed of her. “I know this to be true.”

The voice sounded closer this time, as if spoken from lips right at his ear, and he shivered with unease. “If I could give you her body,” the jinn began, the very words suggesting his deepest desires. “Would you relinquish her heart?”

Gaara’s breath hitched in his lungs. Was this it? Within his grasp at last could be the greatest pleasure of his life, his biggest triumph as all those to pursue her watched as she fell to his will. He could covet her away within his lands where no one could steal her from him, able to drink in the spoils of his victories without fear of refusal, where she could be his and his alone.

His breath escaped him, a short laugh as he shook his head, and he rose from the floor to look into those golden eyes that floated within the smoke. “You tempt me,” he said. “But I refuse, her body without her intent, without her affection, it would mean nothing.”

“Then I cannot give you what you wish,” the jinn replied.

Gaara sighed, dejection settling over him as his heart sunk into his stomach. After the days of endless trekking through the unforgiving desert, after the nights spent shivering with chill, after his rations ran out and his water dried up, this was his answer. He should have known.

“But,” the jinn spoke again. Gaara looked up. “I can help you earn her.”

His heart thumping in his chest, he swallowed; his fear, his apprehension, his doubt, all of it. “What must I do?” he asked, desperate for whatever answer may come. If there be a way; he could do it. If he be put on a path to her; he would walk it no matter the ground. “What will this cost me?”

The jinn spoke slowly, clearly, a deal could only be made if he knew what to sacrifice. “I need a body,” it said. “I need flesh, and blood.” The mist began closing in and where it brushed against his cloak it felt frigid and vile. “I will need you.”

Gaara stared ahead to the walls of the chamber, to the splatters of stain that he had observed when he first entered. He could very well be looking his at his own fate, but even so, he would at least be free of this longing. He went to speak but his voice caught in his throat. He grimaced, the weight of that energy that surrounded him making it hard to breathe. “If it allow me the power to pursue my conquest,” he spoke, that same determination returning to his voice as it had when had called upon the jinn. “If it make me worthy of her, then so be it.”

The smoke closed in, enveloping him in an inescapable cold that permeated his flesh down to his bones. He cried out within the isolation of that chamber as another gust of wind kicked up around him and the sand at his feet began to swirl. He collapsed to the floor, his body going limp with the pain, with the cold. He gasped for desperate breaths. How could something born of the desert feel so frozen? It felt as though the life were being sucked from his core.

Suffocating, it swarmed his face and he was forced to breathe it in. It was thick and rancid and tasted of death, his throat constricting around each breath and his stomach retching, it burned his nose and his lungs, his eyes began to water. He was on his back then, his body thrashing against the onslaught as he felt every fiber of his being fill with the sickly weight of the spirit. It crawled down body, settling into his limbs and swelling within his mind. Nearly overcome, Gaara wondered if this had been the fate of the others, filled to the brim until they simply burst from the immensity of this power.

Just until he thought he could take no more, when he thought he may have truly traded his life for the chance to chase a dream, the wind stopped and the pressure lifted.

Air suddenly filled his lungs; he coughed as he convulsed on the floor. The smoke was gone and he shivered when that icy cold lost its grip. With shaken hands and arms he wasn’t sure would hold him, he attempted to lift himself from the ground. His body felt different, his muscles felt new and not like his own. What had happened to him? He made it to his knees and hunched over, a sudden queasiness slushing within his gut that turned his stomach and he puked.

He hadn’t eaten in two days, the last time he drank was the previous night, he had nothing but bile and it burned his throat all the same as the smoke had. Shaking, he couldn’t yet find the strength to stand, though he found the strength to choke out a laugh at his sorry predicament, weighing his chances of returning alive now that he’d survived accosting a jinn.

Though, just to be sure… “Is it done?” he breathed, his voice was horse and scratchy.

There were no more words spoken within the room, they were now within himself. Startled, the whisper came as a foreign voice inside his mind, like a thought that wasn’t his own.

You have what you need, but your repayment has only just begun.

Gaara looked down at his hands, contemplating the blood he felt throbbing through his veins. He was overcome with a sensation he couldn’t place, a feeling of power that coursed through his body and begged for release. “What is it that you’ve given me?”

As the gusts within the chamber had died, the hollow whistling of the wind seeping its way from the entrance of the cave found him in the flickering darkness cast by his discarded torch. The sand storm still rages. The jinn spoke to him. Go into it, I will show you.

He obeyed, managing to find his feet as the uncertainty of this new feeling quickly faded away. He now felt invigorated and empowered, his senses felt sharper, and he abandoned the torch to die out in the chamber as he left.  

“So” Gaara huffed as he guided his hands along the wall, though he could see much better now. Had there been this much light when he first entered? “What do I call you?”

…Shukaku

Thanks for reading!

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaceyJane

FanFiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2120361/WiccadBaltane0501

[ricetechnology]

The Growth of LED Lighting Technologies in India

India is witnessing a lighting revolution powered by energy efficiency, innovation, and smart automation. As demand for sustainable infrastructure rises across residential, commercial, and industrial sectors, LED lighting has become the preferred solution. The surge in lighting technologies India is experiencing is driven by affordability, longer lifespan, and compatibility with intelligent systems. Particularly in urban centers like Bengaluru, modern living has made Lighting Automation in Bangalore a rapidly growing trend—allowing homeowners and businesses to enjoy efficient and connected lighting solutions.

1. Why India is Shifting to LED Lighting

Traditional incandescent and CFL bulbs are quickly being replaced by LEDs due to their energy-saving benefits and long-term value. LED lights consume up to 80% less energy, generate less heat, and can last up to 25,000 hours or more. This shift not only reduces power bills but also contributes to a lower carbon footprint—a critical goal for a country focused on sustainability.

2. Government Initiatives Fueling the Change

Programs like UJALA (Unnat Jyoti by Affordable LEDs for All) and the Smart Cities Mission have accelerated the transition to LEDs. These initiatives have distributed millions of LED bulbs across the country, promoting awareness about energy efficiency and reducing the strain on national power grids. As a result, India is one of the fastest-growing markets for LED lighting technology.

3. Technological Advancements in LEDs

Modern LED lighting is no longer just about brightness. With advancements in lighting technologies India is now producing:

Tunable white and color LEDs

Flicker-free and high CRI (Color Rendering Index) lights

LED panels with integrated motion sensors

Smart bulbs controllable via apps or voice assistants

These innovations have transformed lighting from a basic utility into an intelligent and adaptive system.

4. The Rise of Lighting Automation in Bangalore

Bangalore, often called the Silicon Valley of India, is at the forefront of smart home adoption. Lighting Automation in Bangalore has seen massive growth, particularly in modern apartments, tech parks, and luxury villas. People are now choosing lighting that:

Adjusts brightness based on time of day

Turns on/off automatically using motion sensors

Connects with smartphones or smart home hubs

Supports scene-based control (e.g., movie mode, reading light, night setting)

This automation not only enhances comfort but also contributes significantly to energy savings.

5. Customization and Design Flexibility

LEDs offer unmatched design versatility. From recessed lights to architectural strip lighting, LEDs can be customized to fit every style and purpose. Designers and architects are incorporating LEDs to highlight walls, ceilings, staircases, and outdoor landscapes. The flexibility of LED lighting has made it a popular choice in both modern and traditional spaces.

6. LEDs in Commercial and Industrial Applications

LEDs are also being widely adopted in factories, warehouses, malls, and hospitals. These spaces require high-performance lighting with low maintenance needs—an area where LED technology excels. Smart lighting systems in commercial buildings now include features like occupancy sensors and centralized control panels, improving both operational efficiency and safety.

7. Challenges and the Road Ahead

While LED adoption is rising rapidly, challenges remain in rural accessibility, upfront costs, and consumer awareness in remote regions. However, with continued government support and growing consumer interest, the future of LED lighting in India looks promising.

Conclusion

The growth of LED lighting is reshaping India’s approach to energy, design, and technology. From smart homes to industrial plants, LED solutions are proving to be efficient, sustainable, and future-ready. With significant innovation in lighting technologies India is becoming a global hub for intelligent lighting systems. As urban areas like Bangalore continue to lead the smart living movement, Lighting Automation in Bangalore is setting a new standard for how lighting is experienced—making everyday spaces smarter, safer, and more energy-efficient.

[processingplant1]

The Growth of LED Lighting Technologies in India

India is witnessing a lighting revolution powered by energy efficiency, innovation, and smart automation. As demand for sustainable infrastructure rises across residential, commercial, and industrial sectors, LED lighting has become the preferred solution. The surge in lighting technologies India is experiencing is driven by affordability, longer lifespan, and compatibility with intelligent systems. Particularly in urban centers like Bengaluru, modern living has made Lighting Automation in Bangalore a rapidly growing trend—allowing homeowners and businesses to enjoy efficient and connected lighting solutions.

1. Why India is Shifting to LED Lighting

Traditional incandescent and CFL bulbs are quickly being replaced by LEDs due to their energy-saving benefits and long-term value. LED lights consume up to 80% less energy, generate less heat, and can last up to 25,000 hours or more. This shift not only reduces power bills but also contributes to a lower carbon footprint—a critical goal for a country focused on sustainability.

2. Government Initiatives Fueling the Change

Programs like UJALA (Unnat Jyoti by Affordable LEDs for All) and the Smart Cities Mission have accelerated the transition to LEDs. These initiatives have distributed millions of LED bulbs across the country, promoting awareness about energy efficiency and reducing the strain on national power grids. As a result, India is one of the fastest-growing markets for LED lighting technology.

3. Technological Advancements in LEDs

Modern LED lighting is no longer just about brightness. With advancements in lighting technologies India is now producing:

Tunable white and color LEDs

Flicker-free and high CRI (Color Rendering Index) lights

LED panels with integrated motion sensors

Smart bulbs controllable via apps or voice assistants

These innovations have transformed lighting from a basic utility into an intelligent and adaptive system.

4. The Rise of Lighting Automation in Bangalore

Bangalore, often called the Silicon Valley of India, is at the forefront of smart home adoption. Lighting Automation in Bangalore has seen massive growth, particularly in modern apartments, tech parks, and luxury villas. People are now choosing lighting that:

Adjusts brightness based on time of day

Turns on/off automatically using motion sensors

Connects with smartphones or smart home hubs

Supports scene-based control (e.g., movie mode, reading light, night setting)

This automation not only enhances comfort but also contributes significantly to energy savings.

5. Customization and Design Flexibility

LEDs offer unmatched design versatility. From recessed lights to architectural strip lighting, LEDs can be customized to fit every style and purpose. Designers and architects are incorporating LEDs to highlight walls, ceilings, staircases, and outdoor landscapes. The flexibility of LED lighting has made it a popular choice in both modern and traditional spaces.

6. LEDs in Commercial and Industrial Applications

LEDs are also being widely adopted in factories, warehouses, malls, and hospitals. These spaces require high-performance lighting with low maintenance needs—an area where LED technology excels. Smart lighting systems in commercial buildings now include features like occupancy sensors and centralized control panels, improving both operational efficiency and safety.

7. Challenges and the Road Ahead

While LED adoption is rising rapidly, challenges remain in rural accessibility, upfront costs, and consumer awareness in remote regions. However, with continued government support and growing consumer interest, the future of LED lighting in India looks promising.

Conclusion

The growth of LED lighting is reshaping India’s approach to energy, design, and technology. From smart homes to industrial plants, LED solutions are proving to be efficient, sustainable, and future-ready. With significant innovation in lighting technologies India is becoming a global hub for intelligent lighting systems. As urban areas like Bangalore continue to lead the smart living movement, Lighting Automation in Bangalore is setting a new standard for how lighting is experienced—making everyday spaces smarter, safer, and more energy-efficient.

[avtechnologysworld]

How to Set Up Indoor LED Screens for Maximum Visibility

Indoor LED screens have revolutionized the visual experience at events, turning ordinary stages into immersive, high-definition canvases. Whether it's a corporate gathering, a music concert, a product launch, or a house of worship, the clarity and impact of your visuals depend heavily on proper setup. A misaligned screen, poor calibration, or suboptimal brightness can easily undermine the experience.

For any stage display screen for events & venue, visibility is paramount. You want every person in the room—whether they’re in the front row or at the back—to enjoy sharp, vibrant visuals without strain. In this detailed guide, we’ll walk you through every technical and practical step to setting up your indoor LED screen for maximum visibility.

1. Understanding Indoor LED Screens

Indoor LED screens are specifically engineered for enclosed spaces where environmental conditions like weather, direct sunlight, and wind aren’t concerns. Unlike outdoor LEDs, indoor units typically have finer pixel pitches (higher pixel density), making them ideal for close-up viewing.

Key Technical Features:

Pixel Pitch: Smaller pitch (1.2mm to 3mm) for sharper images at closer distances.

Brightness Levels: Ranges from 600 to 1500 nits, optimized for ambient indoor lighting.

Refresh Rate: 3840Hz or higher to ensure flicker-free visuals under cameras.

Resolution: Dependent on size and pitch, generally Full HD or 4K-ready.

Use Cases:

By understanding these foundational elements, you can choose the right system and optimize it for visual impact.

2. Pre-Installation Planning for Maximum Visibility

Visibility starts before the screen is even mounted. Assessing your venue and planning screen placement is crucial.

Assess the Venue Layout:

Measure Dimensions: Ceiling height, width, and audience distance.

Consider Sightlines: Ensure no obstacles block the screen from any major seating area.

Determine Screen Quantity: Large venues may need multiple LED walls or auxiliary monitors.

Use Planning Tools:

Tools like SketchUp, Vectorworks, or AV Planner allow you to simulate screen placement in 3D to optimize positioning.

Sample Planning Consideration Table:

3. Choosing the Right LED Screen Size and Pixel Pitch

Your audience's experience hinges on screen clarity. The screen’s size and pixel pitch must match the venue's size and the audience's proximity.

Calculating Optimal Pixel Pitch:

A good rule of thumb:

Minimum viewing distance (in meters) ≈ Pixel pitch (in mm) × 2

So, a 2.5mm screen is best viewed from 5 meters or more.

Size Matters:

Larger venues require screens big enough to command attention. But bigger isn’t always better—oversized screens in small rooms can overwhelm or reduce clarity if resolution isn't high enough.

Recommended Configurations:

4. Correct Placement and Positioning Techniques

Incorrect screen placement can ruin even the most expensive LED setup. Here’s how to position for maximum impact:

Horizontal & Vertical Centering:

Center the screen to the main stage or presentation focal point.

Maintain eye-level viewing for most of the audience.

Height Considerations:

Bottom of the screen should be 1.5 to 2.5 meters above ground level.

Consider the audience standing vs. seated configuration.

Avoiding Obstructions:

Lights, speakers, rigging, and banners should not overlap the screen sightlines.

Side vs Center Placement:

Side-mounted screens are useful for support visuals but main content should stay center-aligned.

5. Screen Rigging and Mounting Best Practices

The physical support of your screen impacts both safety and visual alignment.

Rigging Options:

Wall Mounts: For permanent installs.

Truss Structures: For temporary events—flexible and height-adjustable.

Ground Support (Stacking Systems): For venues with height restrictions.

Safety Guidelines:

Use load-rated rigging components (TUV or CE certified).

Always balance the weight and secure against tilts or shifts.

Use a backup safety cable as redundancy.

Installation Tip:

Align panels on the ground first, ensuring seamless joins, then hoist using motors or lift jacks.

6. Power and Signal Distribution Setup

Without stable power and clean signal routing, even the best screen will fail.

Power Requirements:

Calculate total wattage (add 20% buffer).

Use power distribution units (PDUs) with overload protection.

Ensure separate circuits for LED wall and audio system to avoid interference.

Signal Routing:

From source (laptop/media server) to LED controller (e.g., Novastar, Brompton), then to screen.

Use high-grade SDI or HDMI cables, and CAT6 Ethernet for controller to panel signal.

Pro Tip:

Use a redundant signal path where possible to avoid signal dropouts.

7. Brightness and Contrast Calibration

Too bright, and the screen becomes uncomfortable. Too dim, and visuals fade.

Ideal Brightness Range:

800 to 1500 nits is ideal for most indoor applications.

Use auto-brightness sensors to adjust based on ambient light.

Contrast Settings:

High contrast boosts visibility but overdoing it can crush shadows.

Calibrate using built-in controller tools (like Novastar SmartLCT).

Testing Tools:

Use test patterns and color calibration charts to fine-tune levels.

8. Screen Resolution and Aspect Ratio Settings

Proper resolution and aspect ratios prevent image stretching or pixelation.

Resolution Matching:

Ensure content resolution matches the LED wall resolution.

Avoid scaling content unless via a high-end scaler like Barco E2.

Common Aspect Ratios:

Tip:

Use LED mapping software to break content across multiple panels without distortion.

9. Audio-Visual Sync and Testing

A high-quality LED setup means nothing if visuals lag behind audio.

Testing Checklist:

Color Uniformity: Look for uneven patches.

Dead Pixels: Scan for unlit modules.

Sync Lag: Test via video playback and clap tests.

Correction Tools:

Use frame delay compensation in media servers (e.g., Resolume, Watchout).

Ensure all media plays at the correct frame rate (preferably 60fps or higher).

10. Troubleshooting Common Visibility Issues

Problems arise even with the best tech—be ready with quick fixes.

Common Problems & Fixes:

11. Safety and Maintenance Tips

Even the best LED screen needs regular care.

Routine Checklist:

Safety Reminders:

Never touch powered panels with bare hands.

Use ESD protection when replacing modules.

Avoid overloading trusses or stacking systems.

12. Real-World Use Case Examples

Concert Venue – Indoor Arena

Problem: Poor visibility in side-seating areas.

Solution: Dual angled LED walls with 2.9mm pitch from ROE Visual.

Result: 30% higher attendee satisfaction.

Trade Show Booth – 20x20ft Stall

Setup: Absen A2.5 screens with front-serviceable modules.

Result: Crisp branding visuals viewable even under bright hall lighting.

Church Auditorium

Issue: Rear seating couldn’t see lyrics.

Fix: Raised central screen with 4K resolution content feed.

Feedback: Improved engagement during worship.

13. FAQs: Indoor LED Screen Setup

What pixel pitch is best for indoor LED screens?

For most indoor events, 1.5mm to 2.9mm is ideal depending on viewing distance.

How do I ensure even brightness?

Use your screen controller’s calibration tool to match all module settings.

Can I install LED screens myself?

Smaller panels are possible DIY, but for large displays always hire a certified AV technician.

How to test visual alignment?

Use grid test patterns to ensure seamless alignment across panels.

14. Conclusion: Final Tips for Maximum Visibility

Properly setting up an indoor LED screen is a technical art form—one that combines equipment knowledge, spatial design, calibration skills, and AV synchronization. To maximize visibility:

Choose the right screen size and pitch.

Use correct rigging and cabling methods.

Calibrate brightness and contrast precisely.

Test all components before your event.

A stage display screen for events & venue is only as good as its visibility—and with this guide, you're now equipped to deliver unforgettable visual experiences indoors.

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