#grab them soul shards and shatter them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chokememaximoff · 1 year

Text

You can't hide from the shadows part I

g!p Natasha Romanoff x Reader series

Abstract:In "You Can't Hide from the Shadows," join Y/N on a thrilling journey as she finds herself ensnared in a dangerous game of survival, hunted by a relentless foe. When Natasha Romanoff, the enigmatic Black Widow, enters her life, Y/N's world is turned upside down, leading to an unexpected and intense love affair amidst the shadows. Together, they must navigate a treacherous path of love, danger, and self-discovery, all while attempting to escape the ever-encroaching darkness that threatens to consume them both.

TW: violence, including physical altercations, injuries, and gun violence, along with depictions of abuse, torture, kidnapping, and captivity, explicit sexual content, mentions of mental health issues, pregnancy and childbirth, and strong language and mature themes.

The air hung heavy with tension, suffocating every corner of the dimly lit room. Y/N Y/L/N stood in the center, her heart pounding like a trapped bird. Her father's presence filled the space, an ominous figure seated on a worn armchair, his features distorted by a twisted mixture of anger and malevolence.

"You're worthless, just like your mother," his voice dripped with venom as he spat out the words, each syllable slicing through the air like a blade.

Y/N's breath hitched, her gaze cast down, her hands trembling at her sides. She had heard these words before, too many times. She dared not meet his eyes, for his gaze held a power that could shatter her fragile resolve.

His chair scraped against the floor as he stood, his looming shadow casting her in darkness. The scent of alcohol clung to him, mingling with the acrid smell of fear that clung to Y/N's skin. His hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of her hair, forcing her to look at him.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," he hissed, his grip tightening, his fingernails digging into her scalp.

Y/N's eyes met his, her own a mirror of pain and defiance. She refused to let him break her, even as his fingers dug deeper into her flesh.

"You think you can defy me?" he sneered, his fingers releasing their grip on her hair only to strike her across the face with a force that sent her stumbling back.

Pain exploded across her cheek, her vision blurring with tears. She tasted the metallic tang of blood as it filled her mouth, a cruel reminder of the world she was trapped in.

The room seemed to close in on her as her father advanced, his anger escalating into a frenzy. Each blow landed with a sickening thud, each word a venomous lash that tore at her soul. Y/N's breath came in ragged gasps, her body aching, her spirit fraying.

But then, amidst the torment, a surge of something unfamiliar rose within her – a fire ignited by years of suffering, a primal instinct to survive. As her father raised his hand once more, a primal instinct took over, a desperate fight-or-flight response that pushed her beyond her breaking point.

With a surge of strength she didn't know she possessed, Y/N seized an object from the nearby table, a heavy glass vase, and swung it with a force that was as much a cry for liberation as it was an act of self-defense.

The vase shattered upon impact, its shards raining down around them like deadly confetti. Her father's eyes widened in shock, a mixture of disbelief and pain crossing his face as blood oozed from the wound on his forehead. He stumbled back, collapsing against the wall, his strength ebbing away.

Y/N stood frozen, her chest heaving, her hands trembling. The room was silent save for their labored breaths and the crackling of shattered glass beneath her feet. The weight of what had transpired settled upon her shoulders, a heavy burden that threatened to suffocate her.

Her father's labored breaths grew quieter, his life slipping away with every passing second. Y/N's heart raced, the reality of her actions crashing down upon her. The man who had tormented her, the source of her pain, lay broken before her.

With a final, rasping breath, her father's eyes closed, and his body went limp. Y/N's eyes remained fixed on him, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. Fear, relief, guilt, and an unfamiliar sense of liberation battled for dominance.

She tore her gaze away from his lifeless form, her mind a maelstrom of chaos. Without a second thought, she fled the room, her feet carrying her through the dimly lit corridors of the house she had longed to escape. The night outside welcomed her, the moon a cold witness to her desperate flight.

Y/N Y/L/N ran, her heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of her footsteps. She had done what she thought she could never do – she had broken free from the chains of her tormentor. But as the distance between her and the house grew, the weight of her newfound freedom settled in her chest, mingling with the weight of the past that she carried with her.

In the darkness, with the shadows of the forest embracing her, Y/N Y/L/N was alone, adrift in a world of uncertainty. The echoes of her father's abuse and her own actions reverberated within her, and as she vanished into the night, she left behind a life that was tainted by darkness, stepping into a future that was shrouded in uncertainty.

The forest loomed ahead like a realm untouched by time, a sanctuary where the echoes of Y/N's past could finally begin to fade. The trees whispered secrets as the wind rustled their leaves, and the distant call of a bird carried promises of a new beginning. Y/N's steps were hesitant at first, her heart heavy with the weight of what she had done, yet a glimmer of hope tugged at the edges of her thoughts.

Deep within the heart of the Russian woods, hidden by the dense foliage, stood a cabin that only a select few knew of – a cabin that had once belonged to the man whose presence had cast a shadow over Y/N's life. It was a place that had been both her father's sanctuary and his hidden treasure, a secret he had guarded fiercely.

As Y/N approached the cabin, her fingers trembling, she was struck by an odd mixture of familiarity and detachment. She pushed the heavy wooden door open, revealing a space that held a lifetime's worth of memories. The air was musty, tainted by the years of disuse, yet there was a stillness that offered a respite from the chaos she had left behind.

The cabin's interior was surprisingly well-preserved, a testament to her father's meticulous nature. The walls were adorned with hunting trophies and faded photographs – a stark reminder of the life he had lived beyond the shadows of their home. Y/N's eyes lingered on a picture of a much younger version of herself, a fleeting memory of a time when innocence hadn't been replaced by scars.

She moved through the cabin like a ghost, her fingers trailing along the surfaces as she explored the rooms that had once held secrets she could only guess at. There was a sense of melancholy in the air, a bittersweet realization that this place was, in a way, an extension of her father – a part of him she had never truly understood.

In the bedroom, Y/N found a bed draped in heavy blankets, untouched by time. She sank onto its edge, the weight of her exhaustion crashing over her like a wave. Her thoughts swirled, a chaotic blend of regret, fear, and a spark of something she hadn't felt in years – the stirrings of hope.

With a deep breath, Y/N allowed herself to envision a future that wasn't defined by her father's cruelty. She could feel the chains that had bound her for so long slowly loosening, the scars of her past beginning to fade. Here, in the heart of the forest, surrounded by the whispers of nature, she could begin to heal.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N settled into a routine. She repaired what needed fixing in the cabin, tended to a small garden, and learned to find comfort in solitude. The forest became her confidante, its rustling leaves a gentle reminder that life went on, that healing was possible.

Her days were punctuated by moments of introspection, as she grappled with the enormity of her actions. She had taken a life – a life that had been a source of pain and fear, but a life nonetheless. Guilt gnawed at her, a constant companion that reminded her of the finality of her actions.

---

The forest was a familiar ally to Natasha Romanoff, its shadows weaving tales of secrets and deceit. She moved through the undergrowth with a grace born from years of training, her senses attuned to the subtlest of changes in the environment. But this time, her hunt was personal, driven by an obsession that burned within her like a relentless fire.

Natasha's fixation on Y/N Y/L/N had been consuming her for months. She had watched from the shadows, her expert surveillance skills unveiling the intricate layers of the girl's life. Y/N's existence had been a symphony of pain, a tragic tale of abuse and cruelty at the hands of her own father. Natasha's fascination bordered on the macabre, a dark obsession that defied reason.

As Natasha approached the secluded house, hidden deep within the forest, a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. The houses existence had been a well-guarded secret, a sanctuary for Y/N's father where he could escape the world's prying eyes. It was here that Natasha had believed her prey would fall victim to her relentless pursuit.

But the scene that greeted Natasha shattered her expectations. The houses door stood ajar, and the air carried a scent of death, mingling with the forest's earthy fragrance. She stepped inside cautiously, her eyes narrowing as they fell upon the lifeless form of Y/N's father. Blood stained the floor, a testament to a violent end.

A low chuckle escaped Natasha's lips, the sound carrying a chilling undercurrent. "Impressive," she murmured, her voice laced with a perverse pride. Y/N had taken matters into her own hands, severing the connection to her tormentor with a final, fatal blow. Natasha's dark eyes regarded the scene with a mixture of morbid satisfaction and an eerie admiration for Y/N's resolve.

But Natasha's focus quickly shifted from the corpse to the room itself. She scanned the space, her keen eyes seeking out clues that might illuminate Y/N's whereabouts. It was a twisted treasure hunt of sorts, a quest for the next chapter in this macabre story.

A photo caught Natasha's attention, tucked beneath a stack of papers. She picked it up, her gaze locking onto the image of a younger Y/N, her parents standing beside her. Her father's sinister smile contrasted starkly with Y/N's innocent expression. In the background stood a cabin Natasha was quick to decipher the location of.

The realization hit Natasha like a lightning bolt – this cabin held a significance beyond being a secret refuge. It was a piece of Y/N's past, a place imprinted with the memories of a family torn apart by darkness. The landscape in the photo, the surrounding forest, held the key to Y/N's possible location.

With a calculated movement, Natasha gathered the photographs, her lips curling into a sardonic smile. "Well, well, Y/N," she murmured, the words tinged with a twisted affection. "You've left me a breadcrumb trail, haven't you?"

As Natasha stepped out of the house, the moonlight filtering through the trees illuminated the photos in her gloved hand. She studied the landscape captured in the images, her mind racing with the possibilities. Y/N's desperate escape had become a tantalizing challenge, a game of cat and mouse that Natasha relished.

With the photographs tucked safely away, Natasha's gaze turned skyward, the stars above glittering like shards of obsidian. The darkness within her matched the shadows that surrounded her, a reflection of the obsession that had consumed her very soul.

In the distance, the forest whispered its secrets, and Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, answered with a promise. She would find Y/N, no matter how deep into the darkness she had retreated, and in doing so, she would complete a chapter of this twisted tale that had captivated her so.

----

The evening sun cast a warm golden hue across the forest as Y/N Y/L/N moved through her small garden, her jacket pulled tight around her frame. Her hands worked with a practiced ease, plucking the meager harvest of vegetables that had managed to flourish in the greenhouse. The scent of soil and growth filled the air, a reminder that even in the midst of her solitude, life persisted.

Her fingers brushed against the rough leaves of a carrot as she heard a rustling sound nearby. Y/N froze, her heart racing as she turned to face the source of the disturbance. Her gaze darted around, searching for any sign of movement, any indication of who might be lurking in the shadows. But the woods remained still, the only sounds the gentle whispers of the wind.

With a dismissive shake of her head, Y/N convinced herself that it must have been an animal, a rabbit perhaps, darting through the underbrush. She chided herself for letting her imagination run wild, for succumbing to the unease that had been gnawing at her. She focused on her task, determined to gather her food and retreat to the safety of the cabin.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky shifted into hues of orange and pink, Y/N's unease grew rather than abated. A growing feeling of being watched clung to her, casting shadows across her solitude. She moved with caution, every sound magnified in her ears, every rustle of leaves causing her to tense.

Night fell, casting a blanket of darkness over the landscape. Y/N's irritation swelled alongside her unease. She had lived in isolation, finding solace in the silence of the woods. But now, that very silence seemed to mock her, echoing with an eerie emptiness that fed her growing paranoia.

Fueled by a mixture of annoyance and determination, Y/N snatched up her hunter knife – the one weapon she would allow herself to carry. The blade gleamed in the moonlight as she stepped outside, her voice echoing into the night, "Come on out! I'm not scared!"

A heavy silence answered her challenge, and she could almost hear the echo of her own voice reverberating through the trees. But the shadows remained impenetrable, the presence she felt refusing to take shape.

Back in the cabin, Y/N huddled in her jacket, her nerves on edge. The cabin's walls seemed to close in around her, the darkness outside becoming a living entity that whispered secrets and fears. The wind carried with it a sense of impending danger, a dance of shadows that danced just beyond her vision.

Unseen by Y/N, Natasha Romanoff observed with a twisted smile. Her laughter, a soft undercurrent of amusement, mingled with Y/N's challenge. "Poor baby," she murmured, her voice a siren's call of menace. "You think you can stand up to me?"

The darkness concealed Natasha's form, her eyes gleaming with predatory intent. She knew that Y/N's bravado was a mere facade, a mask that hid the vulnerability within. With a mixture of sadistic pleasure and relentless determination, Natasha continued to toy with her prey, the anticipation of the hunt coursing through her veins.

The night air was frigid, its cold fingers creeping through every crack and crevice of the cabin. Y/N Y/L/N stirred, the chill waking her from a restless sleep. Her eyes blinked open, adjusting to the dimness as she reached for the blanket that had slipped off during the night. Her fingers found only air, the blanket lying abandoned on the floor.

With a grumble, Y/N reluctantly pushed herself out of bed, her breath forming misty clouds in the cold air. She moved to the fireplace, intent on rekindling the dwindling flames. Her fingers worked deftly, coaxing the embers into life, but just as the fire began to regain its strength, it flickered and died, plunging the room into darkness once more.

"Great," she muttered under her breath, frustration tinging her tone. She pushed herself to her feet, grumbling as she made her way to the wood shack just outside. Y/N's steps were heavy with weariness, her eyes half-lidded as she retrieved her warm clothes and strapped a knife holster to her side.

The moon cast a silvery glow over the landscape as Y/N stepped outside, a flashlight and a bucket in hand. Her movements were sluggish, her mind still foggy with sleep as she ventured into the woods, determined to gather enough wood for the night.

Y/N's steps were slow and deliberate, the crunch of leaves beneath her boots punctuating the stillness of the night. But then, as she walked, a sound cut through the silence – a distant rustling that sent a jolt of adrenaline through her veins. She swung the flashlight around, its beam slicing through the darkness, revealing nothing.

"Must be my imagination," she muttered to herself, trying to shake off the unease that settled in the pit of her stomach. The words were a mantra, an attempt to rationalize the fear that was beginning to gnaw at her.

The forest seemed to close in around her as she continued to walk, the sound of her footsteps amplified by the silence. She found a spot where smaller pieces of wood could be salvaged, a decision born from a desire to stave off the cold and fatigue that tugged at her.

Just as she reached down to collect a piece of wood, a sudden noise shattered the night. Y/N's heart raced, her eyes darting around as she swung the flashlight in every direction. Nothing. The shadows clung to the trees, revealing no secrets.

"I'm just tired," she muttered, her voice more for herself than for anyone else. She inhaled deeply, exhaling a shaky breath as she tried to steady her nerves. But then, as she took another step, her foot landed on something unexpected, and the ground seemed to disappear from beneath her.

Panic surged through Y/N as she found herself hanging upside down from a tree, her foot ensnared in a tight rope. The world spun around her, dizziness threatening to overcome her. She struggled, her hands reaching for the knife in her holster, the blade glinting in the moonlight.

Desperation lent her strength, and with a surge of effort, she managed to twist her body, the blade slicing through the rope. She fell to the ground with a painful thud, her breath knocked out of her lungs. Coughing and groaning, she tried to catch her breath, her heart racing.

But then, another noise – louder, closer – shattered the night, snapping Y/N into action. She grabbed her knife, her instincts taking over as she sprinted blindly through the woods. Fear lent her speed, her steps fueled by an urgency she had never felt before.

The footsteps behind her seemed to draw closer, a relentless pursuit that fueled her determination to escape. Y/N's breath came in ragged gasps, her vision blurry as she darted between trees and shrubs, driven by a primal need to survive.

In the darkness, Y/N Y/L/N ran, the forest a labyrinth of shadows that offered no respite. Her breath burned in her chest, her muscles ached, but she dared not slow down. The unknown danger that pursued her was a relentless reminder of the darkness that lurked beyond her sanctuary, and in this terrifying game of cat and mouse, her only hope was to outrun the shadows themselves.

Y/N's heart thundered in her chest as she sprinted through the darkness, the echoes of her own footsteps chasing her through the night. Her breath was ragged, her body aching from the exertion, but the fear that propelled her forward refused to relent. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to keep running, to escape the danger that pursued her.

But as her footfalls pounded against the forest floor, the sound of pursuit grew closer, a relentless drumbeat that matched the rhythm of her panic. Her thoughts were a jumble of desperation and survival, the darkness swallowing her every step, her surroundings becoming a blur of shadows and uncertainty.

And then, as if from the depths of the night itself, Natasha Romanoff materialized before her. Y/N's eyes widened in a mixture of shock and terror as the older woman lunged, tackling her to the ground with a force that sent shockwaves of pain through her body. She landed awkwardly, her hand bearing the brunt of the impact, a sickening crack resonating through the forest.

Agony exploded within Y/N, the pain radiating from her broken hand like a burst of white-hot fire. She screamed, her voice echoing through the trees as she desperately tried to push Natasha off of her. But each movement sent fresh waves of pain shooting through her body, her efforts only serving to make Natasha's grip tighten.

"Hello, kotenok," Natasha's voice purred, a chilling contrast to Y/N's cries of pain. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

The words were a cruel taunt, an eerie reminder of the twisted connection that had bound Natasha to Y/N. As Y/N struggled, the pain in her hand intensifying, she managed to summon a surge of strength, pushing Natasha off and scrambling to her feet.

Ignoring the agony that radiated from her broken hand, Y/N stumbled forward, her steps unsteady as she resumed her frantic escape. She yelled back, her voice tinged with anger and fear, "I don't even know who the fuck you are!"

Natasha's laughter followed her, a haunting melody that seemed to merge with the rustling leaves. "Be careful, my little prey," Natasha's voice carried on the wind. "The forest is filled with traps, one worse than the other. I know where they are, but you don't. And I will catch you, no matter what."

Y/N's breathing was ragged, her heart pounding as she forced her body to keep moving. The forest seemed endless, the shadows closing in around her, the darkness itself becoming her adversary. The pain in her broken hand was a constant reminder of her vulnerability, the haunting echoes of Natasha's threats driving her onward.

With each step, Y/N's determination battled against the terror that threatened to consume her. Her thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind of desperation, her movements driven by a fierce instinct to survive. But as the forest stretched on, a labyrinth of darkness and danger, Y/N's hope wavered. The pursuit was unrelenting, a twisted dance of shadows that showed no mercy.

And as Y/N fled deeper into the woods, her ragged breaths and the relentless pursuit of an unseen predator became the haunting chorus of a nightmare that seemed to have no end.

Every gasping breath was a searing reminder of her desperation as Y/N Y/L/N fled through the labyrinthine forest. Her footsteps were erratic, her vision blurred by fear and exhaustion. She was a creature of instinct now, driven solely by the primal urge to escape the relentless danger that pursued her.

But as her feet carried her through the darkness, her escape was abruptly halted by a searing burst of pain. Agony shot through her as her foot landed on something solid, a force yanking her to the ground with a brutal force. She cried out, a piercing scream that echoed through the night as her ankle was ensnared in a cruel trap.

Tears blurred Y/N's vision as she struggled to comprehend the reality of her situation. The trap that held her was a grotesque contraption, chains interwoven with daggers that clung to her ankle like a vise, tightening with every futile attempt to escape. Blood dripped from the wound, mingling with the dirt and leaves beneath her.

Her trembling hands fumbled for the knife holster at her side, a desperate hope that she could free herself from this nightmare. But her heart sank as her fingers found only empty air – her knife had been lost in the chaos of her flight. Panic clawed at the edges of her mind as she realized the depth of her vulnerability.

Y/N's breath came in ragged gasps as she fought against the pain, her mind racing for a solution. She attempted to pull on the chain, but it only tightened further, the daggers digging deeper into her flesh. Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the dirt and sweat, her cries of agony a testament to the torment she endured.

In the haze of her suffering, a desperate idea formed. Ignoring the pain, Y/N forced herself onto her feet, determined to try and run. But with each step, the daggers embedded in the trap dug deeper, causing a fresh wave of agony to crash over her. She stumbled, her cries of pain echoing through the forest as she crashed to the ground once more.

The forest seemed to close in around her, a cruel reminder of her helplessness. Her body trembled, a mixture of exhaustion, pain, and terror coursing through her veins. The realization that escape was impossible settled over her like a suffocating blanket, snuffing out the last embers of hope.

In the shadows, Natasha Romanoff observed with a sinister satisfaction, her dark eyes glittering with sadistic pleasure. She watched as Y/N's struggles intensified, the girl's cries like music to her ears. She had orchestrated this intricate dance of pain and terror, her traps closing in around Y/N like a spider's web.

Y/N's torment was Natasha's triumph, a twisted testament to her obsession. The forest whispered its secrets, the darkness a canvas for Natasha's cruelty. She reveled in the power she held over Y/N, the thrill of watching the girl's spirit shatter under the weight of her own design.

As Y/N's cries filled the air, Natasha's laughter danced on the wind, a haunting melody that reverberated through the night. The hunt had reached its climax, and in this dance of shadows, Natasha held the strings, manipulating every step of the gruesome ballet that unfolded in the heart of the unforgiving woods.

Y/N's world seemed to collapse around her as the pain of her broken hand and the brutal trap overwhelmed her. Tears streamed down her face, mingling with dirt and blood as she sobbed from both the physical and emotional agony. Her voice was raw as she screamed into the night, her words a torrent of anger and desperation. "I did fucking nothing to deserve this! I got rid of the one fucking person who tortured me, and now this? What kind of a sick person are you?"

Through tear-blurred eyes, Y/N saw Natasha Romanoff approaching, a sadistic smirk dancing on her lips. Despite the pain that seared through her ankle and arm, Y/N's determination to fight remained unbroken. She lunged, her body propelled by sheer willpower, but Natasha evaded her with an almost casual grace, a gun suddenly in her hand.

The barrel of the gun was a menacing presence, and Y/N froze, her hands held up in surrender. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of terror and defiance warring within her. Natasha's command, delivered in Russian, cut through the air like a blade. "Get down on your knees, pretty girl."

Y/N's breath hitched as she realized the cruel irony of her situation. The pain in her ankle was excruciating, every movement causing the daggers in the trap to dig deeper. But she had no choice – the threat of the gun and Natasha's sadistic pleasure left her no room for resistance. Slowly, painfully, she sank to her knees, a scream of agony escaping her lips as the movement intensified her suffering.

Her gaze locked onto Natasha's form, her eyes filled with confusion and a lingering spark of recognition. She spoke, her voice wavering with a mixture of fear and disbelief. "Why is the Black Widow trying to kill me? My dad was Hydra, yes, but I never had anything to do with it! I swear, I literally paid with torture for that from him every day!"

In a swift motion, Natasha lunged, pinning Y/N to the ground. Y/N's cries of pain filled the air as Natasha's weight pressed down on her, the world a blur of agony and confusion. Natasha's voice was a cold whisper against her ear, a chilling reminder of the power she held over Y/N. "You never ever refer to me as Black Widow. I am Natasha to you. Or Daddy. But we will get into that soon enough."

Y/N's sobs mingled with the forest's whispers, her fear and pain a symphony that echoed through the night. And then, Natasha's voice shifted, the words spoken in Russian. "I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to make you mine."

The declaration hung in the air like a weight, a realization that shattered Y/N's understanding of her tormentor. Confusion battled against fear, and Y/N's sobbing intensified as her mind struggled to process the implications of Natasha's words.

The darkness enveloped them, a shroud of uncertainty that masked Natasha's true intentions. Y/N's world had been upended, her pain and fear now overshadowed by the enigma of Natasha's presence. As Natasha loomed above her, a puppeteer pulling the strings of her fate, Y/N felt a new kind of terror take hold – the terror of the unknown, the terror of a future dictated by the whims of a woman whose motives remained shrouded in shadows.

#marvel mcu #mcu #marvel #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #hydra

105 notes · View notes

darling-renyuu · 21 days

Text

and time can't stop me quite like you did; auron & rook

fic summary: just rook, and how red became their favorite color. a/n: this popped into my head and i had to write it down before i lose it forever. also, my rook's side of the whole thing (but hehe i hope you like it (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)) word count: 845 words

the first time was a well-hidden farce.

his hands were shaking minutely as he spoke words that meant everything and nothing all at once. ones he had rehearsed over and over and over in front of a mirror until he went insane - but he was not sitting face to face with his own soul. no, not at all.

he asked himself once: how can someone be so unknown and so familiar to him all at once? how can someone be so like and unlike him?

his red hair made his vision blur, yet why do his veins yearn to flow through them? when did red make him feel so alive? when did brown eyes feel so cold?

it's truly odd.

everything about him makes his blood thrum and sing songs of unwritten epilogues. like stars etched with scarlet thread in his skin, longing to return to the heights. he's ecstatic when sanguine fills his periphery until its all he could think about. words and jargon blur on his screen, forming a silhouette that makes his heart yearn.

the second time was an instinct.

he should have felt fear. that's what they've taught them in school, right? red means a warning. a blaring message telling you to stop and run away.

though, red feels warm amongst the candles. intimate, with the light dancing around his hair and making him glow. he knows from those brown eyes that his soul is cold and battered and broken down until poisoned shards remain.

with every drop of wine, he could feel himself pressing his ear to the shattered mirror to hear the faint thump of a heart. the edges bite into his skin, but he smiles.

he feels like a fool; a happy fool. one who bares out a piece of his being to let this blood-soaked dagger lodge itself into the softness underneath.

grabbing his chin was an instinct. he needed to brand himself into his memory just like he had for him. he wanted hazel eyes to tint his vision just like brown eyes had for him.

it was a gamble, a risk, but it was a calling. it was a glint of something more that went beyond silly fantasies and fiction. it was as if his offer could put words to paper and make them come alive.

and it did.

the third was an epiphany.

the festivities were nothing compared to the joy he felt when that red appeared once again. he realized that red meant something new; an intriguing vulnerability, like blood underneath hardened skin, coiled around barbed bones.

he wanted to catch a glimpse of the man in an ivory tower. the man whose walls were crawling with crimson-tainted ivy, his gardens filled with fire and fury.

and somehow, in between, where the heavens and the earth meet, he did.

speaking so candidly with him felt odd. like seeing snow on the beach. so, so strange, but beautiful.

it was if they were circling each other, entangling themselves in a song and dance where their eyes and skin communicate for them.

his lips, bitten until they looked like cherries; his cheeks, blooming in rose... and that addicting scarlet bleeding like ink into the sheets.

before he knows it, red has become his favorite color.

Rook's eyes blink open, groaning softly. His hips hurt like hell, but hey, at least last night's shenanigans weren't some dream that would fade in the morning...

The ceiling of Auron's penthouse greets him, and he snuggles right back into the covers like a darling thing.

Like some kind of rare event, Auron was still asleep. The sun greets his peaceful form, the invisible string tying his brows together was not pulled taut for once. Rook simply stops, focusing on how his arm fits snugly against his waist, how his breaths slowly synched with his.

That article he read pops up in his mind again. The one about a pair of heartbeats synching when being in close proximity. Would theirs do that too? Would the silence be adorned with two heartbeats, seemingly fitting into the quiet as one?

He swallows, resting his cheek back into the pillow. He laughs softly to himself, thinking of all the ways Auron would chide him when he wakes up. Maybe something about "watching him in his sleep" or something.

And yet, even if they were entwined a few hours prior, he longs to touch. To feel, once again, the hum of his pulse against his fingertips. One that his soul is willing to echo.

He slowly brushes a finger against his cheek, his breath catching in anticipation. He knows he doesn't need to be so soft. His heart says otherwise.

And so, with a swipe of his thumb against his cheekbone, he lets out a breath with a quiver. His hazel eyes catch the sunlight. If ever Auron were to awaken at this moment, he would see red in the color of love; a subtle thing, something cautious and curious, blooming in the cracks.

for the fourth, time stops like it never had before.

writing belongs to @/darling-renyuu. please do not repost. art belongs to @/jackieeleanor.

#yuurivoice auron #yuurivoice shattered #yuurivoice rook #ren’s writing ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚#hiiiii i would very much appreciate constructive criticism!

14 notes · View notes

advertisesouls · 4 months

Text

[ @praeteritus-memories || plotted starter! ]

They say that soulmates can sense when their other half is no longer a part of this world.

Perhaps that's why, as she was preparing yet another delicious meal for them (with a special portion of their latest victim mixed in for good measure), all she could feel is a suffocating grip around her heart that causes the plate in her hand to drop and shatter to the floor beneath her and her knees to give out from underneath her. Dread shortly sets in as well, wrapping around her tightly like an unwelcome embrace from her worst enemy. This is something that she hasn't experienced at all, and for all of these emotions to be surging forth at once is completely overwhelming, almost to the point where she can barely even think.

No, this couldn't be it, could it—? Had their luck finally run out...?

What other explanation could there possibly be, though? Alastor hadn't returned home when he said he would, and while she assumed he'd be home soon, it's never been like this.

Hesitantly, and uncaring for the ceramic shards, she crawled over to the nearest window just to glimpse out of it. In the distance, she could see flashes of light peek out from the trees along with the sounds of dogs barking in the distance.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck—

Scrambling back up to her feet, she dashes over to Alastor's gun cabinet to retrieve a shotgun and—

The last thing she remembers is after telling Alastor that she loved him that she'd see his murderers in Hell, then she pulled the trigger, and...

And then there was nothing for a long time. Had she somehow entered the cycle of reincarnation, even with her list of horrific deeds behind her? (That was something she would laugh at, especially since she knew her soul was too far gone already.)

Maybe that's why her head feels like it's been filled with rocks and her body weighed with lead. A single crimson iris opens to a sky painted blood red and that's when both of her eyes shoot open and she sits up, though her weight feels... off somehow. Her back's aching, almost as if it's on fire until she reaches behind her, talons brushing against her feathers and it's then that all too familiar feeling of dread starts to set in again.

Hurriedly getting to her feet, even with stumbling a few times due to needing to get used to the fact that overall weight and physiology has changed considerably, she races over to the nearest reflective surface—a destroyed storefront's glass window to look herself over. What was once long raven hair, round hazel hues, and beige-colored skin has now changed into a deep scarlet overall along with oranges and yellows mixed within, akin to that of the legendary phoenix from the myths she'd hear as a child. Along with that is a set of haunting ruby irises, devoid of pupils.

Just... just what is she? Was this the Hell she knew she was destined for all along?

But then, as much as they teased the other about it, where is Alastor? Is he here, too? Or, if in a cruel twist of fate, was he the one sent to Heaven while she languished in Hell?

The Gods, if she even still believed in them at this point, would be that cruel to do that.

Though, it's not like she can ruminate any further on that as she can hear the sound of something behind her, which causes her to clumsily grab at a snapped pole, itself clattering to the ground beneath her as she's not used to her talons quite yet.

Well, shit. Maybe she can run—? (Oh, and make herself look like a fool in the process, too, what with needing to support herself against the wall right now.)

Either way, whatever kind of hell this was, she could still fight to live another day, and as she pushes off the wall, she nearly trips over her own feet before trying to run to whatever resembled safety.

...That is if there is any safety to be had in a place like this.

#praeteritusmemories #*ooc: um so OOPS......... i tried to keep this short then felt like the scene needed to be set and then i just wrote this #long post cw #long post tw #long post for ts #suicide mention cw #🔥 VERSE: BEFORE THE DAMNATION 🔥 a heart full of hate that's closed off; may the world burn for what it's done.#🔥 VERSE: HELL IS NOW YOUR HOME! 🔥 a second chance to continue the streak; from nothing to something almost overnight.

28 notes · View notes

randomreadingtimewithtsuki · 11 months

Note

Hey I saw your response to my post and figured I'd send. A little request, I was thinking maybe just some fluffy cuddles with Toge after a bad day. If you don't mind gender neutral reader is preferred but anything is fine.

Hi!

Thank you for trusting me with this one!

I hope you enjoy what i have to offer! Let me know what you think!

Tsuki's note: I didn't know if you wanted a sorcerer!reader or not... so i went with a sorcerer! Reader, hope that's ok? Also second year! Reader too.

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

It has been a horrible day, really. All that could happen to hinder it happened, i guess you could say you were headbutted by murphy's law.

You knew you had a mission so you woke up early, while getting dressed your foot got caught on your clothes and you managed to knock your phone out of the nightstand.

Such a short fall wouldn't hurt right? right? Well...The screen cracked a bit on the corner. This was just the start of a series of unfortunate events that happened to you.

Among others there was: tripping on the entrance of building, having the curse you were suppose to exorcise spit something that smelled foul on you, it started to rain heavily before you got to Ichiji and so on.

The first thing you did upon arriving at school was ignoring Maki's greetings and going straight for a shower. Needless to say she was a bit annoyed, but your face didn't look the best so she let it slide.

After your shower you suddenly felt so drained, so much drained that you has you had to drag yourself to the dinning hall. The hall was as noisy as ever, having Yuji and Nobara arguing about something, Megumi sitently trying to eat but failing miserably as Maki slammed the table - when she grabbed the salt it was actually placed upside down with the lid on the bottom. So yeah, all the salt fell into the table - she was mad at Panda and Toge, it wasn't hard to figured one of them did that.

You sat between Megumi and the angry Maki across from Toge and started grabbing your food, so you soon joined Megumi in trying to eat silently.

Megumi asked you about your mission, he looked terribly concerned for you:

Megumi: Y/n-senpai, How was the mission?

Y/N: ... Fine...

Megumi: Were you hurt?

Y/N: No... why?

An unexpected and hurtfully honest comment came from your right:

Maki: Because you look like shit.

You paused for a moment before replying noticing some new attention on you:

Y/N: Thanks... It was a lovely day.

Panda: A rough day, huh?

Nobara: Was the mission that difficult?

Y/N: No...

You could see Yuji fidgeting when he tried to console you:

Yuji: Senpai don't look that bad... maybe a little tired.

Toge: Shake, shake!

You sighed heavily. How bad did you look?

Soon after that they all find different reasons to be loud again, it was like a vicious cycle. Soon after you were done eating you were ready to go to sleep before something else happened.

As you were saying good night to everyone, Toge offered you a dessert. You politly declined, which coming from you was a bit weird, so he exchanged a look with Panda, who shrugged it off.

On you way back to your room, you felt your body very heavy so you were pretty much dragging your self and making a mental note to buy a new phone.

Unfortunaly for you, your wave of bad luck haven't ended yet. You got to your room, got into more comfy clothes and started to make your bed to sleep when... CRASH!

You felt your soul leave your body. you turned around to see a shattered mirror. oh great! You soon heard a knock on the door:

??: Konbu, Konbu!

You sighed as you opened the door to see a very worried Toge:

Y/N : It was just the mirror ...

You stepped back and showed him the million pieces on the floor:

Y/N: guess this means more... like, seven years of bad luck?

The sighed in relief and offered to help you clean. As you both were done picking every single shard, Toge smiled happily at you - a mission accomplished kind of smile.

But you burst out in tears. The poor boy was left terribly confused as you proceeded to explain between sobs and mumbled words all that happened today.

Toge sat there and listened to you cry out your bad luck while rubbing your back. His head was going a million per hour trying to find a way to comfort you.

He can't say anything nice, it didn't seemed like you would read anything he wrote as of right now - and it might make you even more upset, your phone is broken after all - so he decided to go for the only thing he could do: Hug you.

You completly melted in the hug still sobbing a bit, Toge still rubbed your back unti you calmed down:

Y/N: And to top it off, I ended up holding you here, for like an hour!

Despite your sobs having died out you were still clinging to him, and you did not exactly leave any openning for protest either:

Y/N: I just want today to end!

Toge: Shake...

He patted your head and sighed. This time he had to grab his phone and write something. After a bit of typing he showed you the message, that was sent to you:

"It's ok, i don't mind! I can stick around for as much as you want. Are you feeling better?"

Y/N: ... Yes... but it doesn't feel right to take your time like that.

He was typing something again:

" All that matters is that you are better. Besides, i can come around and cuddle whenever you need"

Y/N Cuddle...?

You felt your cheeks burn. The reply made you jump out of your skin:

"Well, a hug is broken off after a while right? This is a cuddle"

Seeing you jump made him laugh silently. You quicky got up and sttuter out something:

Y/N: T-t-that's... true, b-but! We should take this bag full of boken glass away now! It's late...

You couldn't see it, but his ears were red. He giggled watching your nervous self walk away with the bag.

Toge got himself up from the floor and helped you tae the bags outside.

It was a silent trip - you couldn't look at him. But on the way back, before returning to your dorm you thaning him shyly for spending this time with you.

Toge smiled and patted your head. He waved you good night and you wished him the same. When you arrived again in your room, you sighed and saw the messages he had sent you earlier.

Scrolling throuh them you found a more recent one:

" You are welcome, if you need anything say it. The hugs are free for you! Good night"

You felt your face heat up again, but you smiled.

Maybe the end of the day wasn't that bad right...?

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

Thank you for reading! I feel like i got carried away :D

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #inumaki toge x reader #inugami x reader

56 notes · View notes

summertimemusician · 1 year

Text

Linktober Shadow Day 3

Twilight

Definitely self indulgent, just a small thing I managed to throw together after a sleep deprivation filled day.

My Twilight Princess lover side definitely comes out on this one, as well as some vague headcanons in a short drabble, as always can be read as platonic or romantic.

There was something special, you think, about the way autumn came in a howling moonson of glory into the Era of Twilight, heralding the coming of the temperate strokes over the woods in flowering tones of russet, bronze, maple and amethyst in gilding gold over the evergreen of Hyrule’s eternity in warmth even as the weather turned ever colder, the late afternoon sunset fleeting in it’s mercurial transition into the hour of twilight, only matched in honor to the abandoned forests of the Era of Sky, the enduring wealds of the Era of time and the untamed thickets of the Era of Wilds. Oh so contrasting to it’s hero but no less lovely for it was a perfect balance, when you first met Twilight (or well, got properly acquainted, really, but that’s a story for another day), it was clear he was no less captivating than his homeland, as steady as the oaks and pines stretching towards the heavens and with the kindness of it’s people, was it any wonder then, that you found it easy to love the man with the loyalty and eyes of wolf to match the divine beast in his soul?

So it was why through a long, long period of trying to make the true extent of your feelings as unseen as a dream after waking hours and trying to hide just how enamored you had slowly become, that you became well acquainted with the tells that showed something weighted on his mind as you left Ordon’s Spring after washing Epona for the long road ahead tomorrow. The way his head hang just a little, ears lowering to match the way Wolfie’s would when he gently nudged one of the members of the Chain into holding him after a nightmare as his walls attempt to come back up, as solemn as a wolf in mourning.

Ever so responsible, ever steady. Trying to take the world onto his shoulders as any hero would.

He should have know it wouldn’t work on you, not after all you’ve been through.

“Rupee for your thoughts?” Your tone gently broke through the stillness of the stream as you fed Epona an apple, Twilight’s ears twitch as he turns towards you, softening as he notes the way the twilit enchanted sunlight lingered upon your visage in a most ephemeral way, shadows holding affectionately and brightening the stars of your eyes and the liminal nature of this moment and how Epona neighs, gently nudging the side of your hand for more rubs or maybe apples he knew you loved sneaking to her when he wasn’t looking, making your airy, fae like laughter free to be taken by the breeze.

“Reminiscing, is all.” He answer you, tone a low rumbling of the fall winds and like handling mirror shards into something new and beautiful as he privately holds onto the memory of your smile, holding it with claws and teeth for he can never quite be sure for how long he’ll have it, “It feels like a lifetime ago since...”

Since the start of his journey, since the beginning of his new one in the throes of attempting to settle in Ordon to lick his wounds after the lingering shaded reality of another realm settled into the crevices of his soul and marrow after grabbing the neck of the beast inside his being and biting down onto the hackles had left the injury open to bleed again.

Since losing Midna shattered his heart and killed him all at once, leaving him to live a life of haunting his own existence until you looked at him, all of him, and guided him back to life. Picking the shards of his heart and slowly putting them back together with the care of someone he’d seen mourn for an unfortunate nightingale on the road even as you cut yourself when he attempted to push you away.

You nod, gently resting your head on his shoulder, your gaze flicking to the Shadow Crystal, you don’t press about Midna and Twilight feels so, so warm, breathing out, you were both working on it, slowly but surely. Midna may not be dead, but he knew her absence left you haunted too, “Does it still hurt?” The twisting of reality upon his form, drawing from a well of ambition from long gone spirits who’d attempted to grab at the Goddesses throat, and the way the darkness so fiercely claimed any part of his he could touch. Making both of your shadows darker as the veil between worlds thinned, refusing to allow anything else to attempt a claim.

He shakes his head, gently putting his chin atop yours, “No, not anymore.”

You hum, gently nudging his chin in a sweet, adoring nuzzle, “I’m glad, then.”

You both remain on the spring until night falls, basking into one another’s presence and soaking into the timeless moment of learning to love one another as you can.

Twilight silently wishes that, just this once, he’s allowed to keep this the same way the Twilight Realm still keeps the old him.

#linked universe twilight x reader #linked universe x reader #link x reader #midna x reader kinda?#something about how Twilight can't go home again #something about mourning lost love even if they aren't dead #something about new beginnings when you don't fully recognize yourself anymore #something about how another world's magic irrevocably changes you just by being in close proximity to it #summer writes #summer writes linktober shadow 2023

63 notes · View notes

ragingbookdragon · 1 year

Text

For The Love I Bear Was Only Given To Worship You With

Haldir of Lothlórien x Reader

Word Count: 3.3K Warnings: Semi-graphic depictions of assault/violence, blood, etc.

Author's Note: Please be advised within the first few paragraphs there is depiction of sexual assault. If that is a sensitive topic for you, then I strongly advise you to skip over until the first ellipses. -Thorne

**********************************************************************

The defilement the orcs committed felt like hours, in fact, in probably had been hours since she and Celebrían had been taken captive and tortured repentantly. Her sister, however, had been spared, hopefully in some aspect, no thanks to her screams of “Take me! I am the youngest!” Celebrían had sobbed hysterically, begging her not to, but all she could think of was Elrond and his children, how she had to protect her sister for the sake of her brother-in-law.

It was, brutal. Black blood smeared with her own crimson as she lay motionless, no longer screaming her throat ragged, she lay still. From a distance, it felt like she was watching it happen, like her soul had departed from her body to witness the degradation. She could sense it all, hear and smell everything, from the thick scent of sweat and blood to the horrid, grating grunts and diabolical laughter.

And when they were done, they simply haphazardly tossed her back into the gated pen that Celebrían was sitting in the corner in. Her sister’s body was covered in cuts and bruises, but there was no sight of blood smeared anywhere below her hips and that made her sister have some feeling of relief deep inside. Celebrían scrambled to her knees, pulling her sister into the corner, hands going from her face to her torso hovering over her lap.

“Oh, oh Eru,” she gagged in her horror as her sister merely curled into a ball on her thighs, not even feeling any of the pain, and passed out. Celebrían merely held her, praying to the One that someone would save them.

***

Something was nagging at her, but she couldn’t tell what it was. A feeling in her chest that felt as if it was tearing away at the very muscle of the organ. She wanted to stay in the darkness she was in. It was cold, calm, quiet—a far cry from what she had left behind. But the feeling wouldn’t quit tugging at her. Finally, she opened her eyes to stop it, but if nothing else, to at least see what it was.

Bleary eyed, she blinked at the figure in white standing a ways from her, a sound coming from it; she continued to squint until her vision cleared and her mother stood before her, lips moving in a continual motion of, “Get up. You must get up.”

“I do not want to,” she said lethargically.

“You must get up, hína nîn,” Galadriel repeated. “They are coming back for your sister. Get up.”

She felt something shift in her chest again, another strong pulse. “I cannot rise.”

Something turned in her mother’s gaze and she raised a hand, a ball of light in it. “They will do to her what they did to you. My child, you must get up.”

“Mother, I—”

“Rise, and protect yourselves!” Galadriel commanded.

***

Her eyes snapped open, and she instantly heard the blood curdling screams of Celebrían ripping from her throat; her eyes darted, catching sight of two orcs pulling her by the arms and the same force in her chest culminated into a violent shift of energy that had the orcs flying and her sister hitting the ground.

She ran, grabbed Celebrían by the arm, and flung her back behind before raising her hands. A force unlike anything that had not been seen in ages emanated from her palms, a blinding, white-hot energy that created a warping aegis around them.

Her eyes were narrowed in righteous rage as she warned the orcs clambering to their feet, “Pass this hallowed barrier and I will annihilate you.”

One of the orcs pulled out his sword, bellowed in his guttural tongue and ran at the barrier; she merely watched as he brought his sword down only for it to shatter into a thousand shards, and when his body met the field, he was consumed by white flame, yelling in pain before he fell to the ground.

She drew her gaze from the dead orc to the ones gathering back behind the barrier and stared them down with deadly eyes. “You will not cross this barrier so long as I stand. I will not fall.”

A bloodthirsty haze fell over the group, and they began screaming in their tongue at her, running to take her down.

***

It wasn’t long before elven arrows pierced the flesh of orcs, a war horn blaring across the mountain side as horses thundered across the rocks and silver swords were slashing at heads and limbs.

She still stood, hands raised in the same position as countless burned bodies lay at the edge of the shield. Blood dripped from her nostrils as the energy of her body and soul went into the force of the barrier, but she would withstand a thousand years of it, if it meant her sister would be safe.

The orcs dropped like flies around them, some trying to flee only to be hunted down by Rivendell and Lothlórien soldiers. She watched, catching sight of her brother-in-law and nephews among the fray.

All but one orc remained, the leader of their pack, held by three elves, each on his arms and one with his head in his grip. Elrond raised his sword, an unexplainable emotion on his face, only to hear from the distance between them, “STOP!”

His blade froze midair, and he spun, seeing the barrier disintegrating. She stumbled, torn and dirtied dress exposing her body as she hobbled towards him. “My Lady—” he started, and she ripped his dagger from his belt with fury.

“He is mine to kill.” She looked at the elves holding his arms. “I order you to cut his limbs off. Leave his head attached to his body.”

They did as she commanded, not feeling a thing but disgust as the orc shrieked in pain. As he fell onto his back, she scrambled atop him and glowered down, shoving the blade horizontally between his teeth to keep his mouth open.

“You have defiled me. I, a daughter of the Lady of Light. You have committed a sin so foul, so grave, so unspeakable.” Her voice grew with her rage, a shaking beginning to rattle the ground around them and the elves looked at one another in shock, if not all-overwhelming fear.

Trees began to sweep from the dirt, exposing their roots with creaks and groans of vengeance, stones fractured, the ground splitting in cracks along the way. Fury stormed in her eyes as lightning flashed across the sky, her voice a force full of seething hatred as she yanked the blade from his mouth, feeling black blood splattering her skin as his cheeks and face ripped. She raised the blade and stabbed down.

“YOU WILL DIE FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE!” stab after stab. “YOU WILL ROT IN THE DEEPEST PITS OF WHATEVER HELL YOU HAVE CRAWLED OUT OF!” she continued to stab into his flesh, carving away at the organs in his chest.

Her arms grew tired, but she didn’t stop until someone grabbed her, and she screamed, turning the blade on them, eyes wild as she snarled, “DO NOT TOUCH ME!” she turned the blade on them all. “NO ONE IS TO TOUCH ME!”

The elf, Haldir, her courter, she recognized in her haze of rage, stepped back, his own eyes going wide with concern as she staggered to her feet, covered in black ichor. The blade dropped beside her feet, and she turned to Elrond, her expression dead.

“Take my sister home,” she charged, before turning in the direction opposite of Lothlorien.

His sons were already gathering their mother and Elrond stepped towards her, raising a hand only to remember her warning, asking worriedly, “Where are you going?” his eyes, in horror, saw the state of her lower body. “You need to be healed.”

She merely kept walking. “Do not speak to me of healing. You will never heal what I have suffered. Take my sister home, Elrond. Now.”

It was all she said before disappearing down the side of the mountain, the elves of Rivendell and Lothlórien all stunned and silent. Haldir was torn between helping Lady Celebrían and going after his love, but one look from Elrond, and a quickly barked order to the elves around had him moving to assist Elrond’s sons, his heart aching for his love.

***

2910. Four hundred years had passed since the attack on the daughters of the Lady of Light. Four hundred years since Elrond had watched his wife depart to the Undying Lands. Four hundred years since he grieved for the loss of both his wife and sister-in-law who was nowhere to be found. Not even Lady Galadriel would speak of her whereabouts, though he had full reason to believe that she knew.

It was a time of celebration in Lothlórien, and he and his children had come to the land to join in the time of joy with their family, welcoming the spring as gold filled the forest along with blooming flowers of all shades.

The party was beautiful, the food and wine delicious, but Elrond could see the sadness in his brethren’s gazes, knew they all missed the Daughters of Light so terribly. Haldir, Elrond knew, was hit just as hard as he was. Both he and her were born the same year, him becoming a sort of knight watching out for her as she grew older. Their affection and devotion to one another was evident to all around them; their people could only wonder when Haldir was to court her, but when the incident occurred, and she vanished, they watched one of their strongest soldiers fall into a deep ravine of grief. Elrond felt for his fellow elf, could only offer wise council to ease their hearts, but he knew Haldir would never be the same until she came home.

The joyous celebration was brought to a sudden halt as a bright light filled the entrance of the dining hall. Everyone covered their eyes, at first assuming it had to be Lady Galadriel, but she was at the center with Lord Celeborn. Soldiers raised their arms, regular elves protecting their partners and children until the light began to dim and, in the center, stood the remaining Daughter of Light who hadn’t been seen for four-hundred years.

She wore a pure, snow-white dress, adorned with a green sash and gold designs all across the front. The patten ebbing up from the edge of her dress was that of the trees of Lothlórien, branches trailing up to her hips. Her shoulders were covered by golden pauldrons, golden wrist guards wrapped around her forearms. Gold sandals wrapped elegantly around her feet and calves like vines.

Her expression was one of calm, and an overwhelming peace filled the sanctuary when she smiled so softly and murmured, “Forgive me for my absence.” Her steps were delicate as she walked up the middle of the tables to her mother and father where she knelt before them. “Mother, father, I have come home.”

The two had rather subdued reactions, but everyone could see the happiness and love in their eyes as they smiled at her; Galadriel reached down, lifted her chin, and asked, “Have you found peace, hína nîn?”

A smile so contrasted to the absolute infernal rage they had seen on her four centuries earlier was shocking, but she nodded. “I have spent four hundred years in solitude healing from unimaginable wounds. My only comfort was the light of the sun and stars.” Her smile was kind, her voice gentle. “I have found my peace, mother. I am whole.”

Lady Galadriel wasn’t even able to say a word when cheers and cries of joy echoed around them, flowers thrown and celebration around. The party continued on, now a third chair at the table of the Lady and Lord, many elves coming to greet and express gladness at their Daughter of Light’s return. Even Elrond came and she greeted him with a hand to her chest and he returned it, but suddenly overcome with emotion, tears gathered in his eyes, and he whispered, “Forgive me.”

She simply smiled and reached up, wiping his tears with her thumbs as she calmly replied, “There is nothing to forgive, muindor.” Her smile only brought more tears to his eyes and with a gesture much like human affection, she pulled him to her and gently rubbed his back. “You have done so much in this time. So much grief and sadness you have weathered for your children and people.” Pulling back, she gazed at him. “Grieve for me no longer, muindor. I have grown.”

He swallowed thickly and reached up, gently touching her cheek as if she were glass. “I am glad you have returned. We have all missed you.” She merely smiled, eyes crinkling at the edges.

***

As the evening drew on, the elves took to dancing in the night, the sound of music lifting the hearts and souls of them all. She stood off to the side, watching with warmth until she felt a presence beside her. “Haldir,” she murmured before looking over. “You look well.”

He in fact looked like hell had come alive. To suddenly see her after so many centuries, his heart had felt as if it had imploded, sunken to the bottom of the seas. “I only pale in comparison to the beauty of My Lady.”

Her smile set him at ease as they looked over the crowd. “Such beautiful music.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, happening to meet the eyes of the harpist who smiled at him. A pretty little elf, a few centuries younger than him, long red hair, and bright green eyes. “Ningannelthel has certainly gathered many eyes and hearts with her skill.”

“I would not doubt that.” She glanced at him. “Perhaps it is time you court her?”

Haldir’s eyes went wide, and he gaped at her. “I—beg pardon?”

“Ningannelthel is not married. Her eyes do not speak such volumes. She comes from a respected line. If you were to court her, it would be a joyous union.” She gestured for him to go. “Please, do not let me keep you. Go forth and court her.” She wouldn’t hear anything from him, saying her goodbyes as she retired for the evening.

***

It was the coolness of the morning that stirred her, and she stood at the highest platform in Lórien, watching the land wake up before her. The air was crisp, a bit chilly even as the sun began rising, but she felt calmness like nothing she had felt before.

Her time in solitude was spent truthfully in a cave, sealed inside the dark as she cursed and screamed her agony for years on end. For two centuries, she dwelled in darkness and rage until the third when she finally had no strength left, and she prepared herself to waste away into nothingness, when a single bright blossom bloomed in the center of where she lay.

For an entire hundred years, she gaze at the golden flower, a soft song like that of Eru sung to her for only her ears, and tears dripped down her face like a river of crystal. Her body, her soul, her mind healed from her suffering as the anger, like her tears, eventually dried up and dissipated, until all that remained was a tranquility. A peace that would measure and level the land for the ages to come.

At the end of the fourth century, she took the flower from the ground and consumed it, the blessings of Eru departed to her, melding with her soul and she saw the Timeless Halls where the One dwelled, was given the sight of the Secret Fire, and bestowed a single gift with many traits. One gift above all, to heal and to protect. She knew then that she served a higher purpose in the course of time; she saw the sun for the first time in four hundred years, and cried tears of exultation.

The sun rising now reminded her of the beauty of the light after darkness for so long. There was such beauty in it, unspeakable, untellable beauty. A presence stood beside her.

“I have heard you decided to not court, Ningannelthel,” she said.

“No,” he answered. “I cannot court whom my heart does not belong to.”

“Your heart belongs to a woman no longer here, Haldir,” her voice was one of pity and he appeared before her, shadows on his face as the sun haloed his hair.

“I have loved the same woman from the moment I saw her when I was a child to even this very moment. I have loved her regardless of what she suffered. I will continue to love her in her transformations. I will never stop loving her, no matter who she is now or who she was then.” He gazed at her with a look of seriousness unlike himself. “I have never loved her more than in the four centuries I spent waiting for her to return to me. And no one will ever love her more deeply and more timelessly than I have.”

Her heart beat in her chest like normal, but it was abnormally strong as she took in his words. “You would have me? Even though I am not who I once was?”

He knew what she meant. Much like the stories of her mother’s prideful spirit being tempered by humbleness, he saw the same. No longer prideful like she had been prior to the incident, snarky and mischievous. Now, she resembled her in demeanor and soul like her mother, calm and humble. And ever-dispelling well of wisdom and love.

Haldir knelt before her and took her hands in his. “I would walk the land until it is destitute if it meant I could have you in the next life.” He stared at her. “And even if you left again, still I would wait for you to come home, even if it meant I only could take one glance at your face.” His heart came pouring out of his mouth. “If one day you command me to stand in place, I would stand there until you told me to move or until I returned to the ground. If you told me to go in search of what your heart desires, I would not stop until I had found every piece and brought it back.” Tears filled his eyes, and he choked out, “If one day you commanded me to give my heart to another, I would rather pull it from my chest and bury it in the earth, for the love I bear for you was only given to me by the grace of Eru to worship you with.”

She fell to her knees and laid her head on his lap, tears seeping into the cloth covering his legs; he held her, tears falling down his cheeks.

“I have waited for you this long, meleth nîn. If I have to wait longer, then I shall, but I will always love you, and nothing will ever even come close to being able to dim my devotion.”

Rising, she met his eyes and took his hands in hers. “I do not know if I can make you as happy as you wish to be, Haldir. I do not know if I can give you what you wish.”

He shook his head, a teary smile on his face as he confessed, “Whatever you give to me, I will be satisfied with. So long as I can hold you in my arms for all eternity.”

She leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together and whispered, “Melin gin, Haldir.”

“Melin gin, meleth nîn,” he murmured, their smiles rivaling the brightness of the sun.

87 notes · View notes

snickerdoodie · 15 days

Text

“I can never let go”

Summary: Months had passed since that night, the night of reunion and hurt that neither of them could forget. They thought the worst had ticked by…they couldn’t have been more wrong.

Pairing: Castin Hammer x f!reader

A/N: I told ya’ll I’d post again 😋. Found this is my drafts and decided to finish and post it since you all seemed to like my last one. This one isn’t actually like a part two to my other Castin fic, but it’s another hurt-comfort situation because apparently I can’t write anything without hurting my own feelings?? Idk. But anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this one as much as you liked the other one! Enjoy!

Castin jolts awake with a choked gasp, immediately raising himself to sit up as his eyes dart around the moonlight illuminated bedroom. His vision blurry and disorienting as he tries to control his ragged breaths, soon failing as his mind thinks back to his very vivid feeling dream.

Baroness, his wife, struggling to hang onto the glimpse of life as blood squirts out from the sword impaled in her abdomen. Castins there, hands shaking as her desperately applies pressure to the wound, knowing damn well there’s nothing that can heal the every bleeding injury. He takes in shuddering breaths as he struggles to hold back his tears, the heaviness behind his eyes only increasing as he hears her own breathing become more and more shallow. As she takes in one last, staggering breath, she lets out a quiet “I love you.” His eyes widen as he lets out a wet “oh my god,” as he watches the life drain from his wife’s eyes. Looking up at the sky in hopes of a miracle, a sign that she’s living, but alas none come. He shuts his eyelids tightly, wanting to wake up, to feel her once beating heart against his own, to feel the known warmness of her now cold body. But he knows, goddess does he know the look of a dead, pleading soul by heart all too well.

Trying to decipher what’s real and what’s not, his desperate eyes soon make focus on a little bead of candle light coming from the library. As his mind switches to autopilot, his shaking hands roughly rip the sheets from his sweaty body, his stiff feet soon making contact with the cold floor, causing his body to involuntarily shiver at the feeling.

His body tries to stand in its own, not realizing its own weak state, legs and knees giving out as he grabs onto the bedside table to support himself, his quivering arms and hands knocking over glass and whatever else lays upon the table, his ringing ears not detecting the crashing and shattering of the bottles. Eyes shutting tensely when his vision blurs once again, noticing the slight sting in his palms from the shards that lay on the table and ground.

A room away the Baroness hears the commotion, looking up from her book at a source for the sound, finding nothing in her line of sight. Figuring it was her clumsy husband, she shuts her book quickly before walking over slowly to their shared bedroom, peaking over the corner, not expecting the right before her.

She sees her husband, hunched over their bedside table, shoulders shaking and head moving from side to side, his breathing erratic and quick . Taking notice in the broken bottles on the floor, she carefully starts making her way towards him, feet tapping on the floor quietly.

“Castin?” She whispers out, soon met with an uncomfortable silence. As if being pulled from a trance, her husbands head perks up, jerking to face her, but the glazed over look in his eyes makes her queasy.

“Baby,” he rasps out, voice nearly breaking. With two left feet, he tries to make his way over, as does she. But his knees soon buckle and his body falls forward, the baroness catching his heavy body in her much smaller arms. With a grunt, she tries as gently as she can to set them both on the floor, being held up by their knees. As she does, his arms frantically curl around her as if she’d disappear, face snuggling against her neck hurriedly.

“C-Castin? What-Are you alright what happened-“ Her thoughts were cut off by a small sob coming out of her husband’s mouth. It surprises her, to say the least. To hear her husband get choked up. His usual stoic and masculine self being broken down to nothing but one of a weeping child. She feels his tears soak into her sheer silk nightgown before she speaks up again, more gentle this time, much like a soothing mother.

“Castin? Oh my poor dear, what happened?” She coos, her soft hands pull his face away from her, feeling a sense of dread as she sees the absolutely heartbreaking look in his eyes. His eyes are wide, unfocused, fat tears threatening to fall down his roughed up face, eyebrows furrowed tightly as his lip quivers sadly. Surprisingly, he speaks up.

“I—I lost you..you…” he chokes up on his own words before continuing, “Oh god, you-you were bleeding ou-out e-everywhere…so..so much blood I-..” he tries to continue his thoughts but a fresh batch of tears stop him from doing so. Her hands come back up to wipe them away as they gush out. As he babbles out incoherently, she starts pressing soft kisses onto his tear soaked face as a way of grounding his scrambled mind. As if it was some kind of cure, his eyes flutter closed at the contact, piecing together the fragment of memories slowly.

Her delicate hands trace gentle circles along his rigid arms, feeling as they release the tension that lies beneath. Continuing her ministrations, she feels his body succumb to the tension and finally give out, almost collapsing on top of her if it wasn’t for her grabbing his shoulders to steady him, they both would have ended up with an even worse injury.

“Are you with me, my love? Can you feel me now?” She asks softly, one hand coming free to caress his chiseled face. It takes him a moment to compel himself to nod gently on her hold. Smiling in slight relief, her hand rests against his cheek as she watches his eyes open slowly. The moonlight catches them perfectly, the glazed over look her once held now replaced with one of a tired worker, droopy eyes meet her own sheepishly.

“My love?” He starts, voice rough and gravely, rightfully so. She nods, a sad smile coming across her features.

“Are you alright now? Whatever happened to cause that?” She questions, thumb stroking his cheek lovingly. His eyes trail down to the floor before taking a deep breath before starting.

“A..a nightmare, a very vivid one at that. I….i thought it was so real, you were…” he takes in a shuddering breath before continuing, “You were bleeding out, right in front of me. A sword straight to the stomach…I…I couldn’t stop it and…” his voice becomes watery along with his eyes once again as she shushes him gently, both hands now coming to caress his face lovingly.

“I’m right here, my love. Alive and very well, very healthy. Breathing and speaking if you wish. It was all just a dream, a figment of your imagination, none of it was real, alright?” He nods against her, hands coming to cup her own against his face, feeling the warmth of them, relishing in the fact that he can feel the pulse within. “You can feel it, no? My pulse, my heartbeat, my warmness, *thats* all real. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere any time soon.” He smiles, eyes still casted down to the soft fabric of which she wears, thanking the stars there’s no blood or weapon penetrating her porcelain skin.

“I feel you, baby, all of you.” He adds, taking in the small smile that makes its way across her face. With a loving glance, he slowly leans forward to interlock their lips, the weight of the world falling off his shoulders as he once again feels the heat radiating off her onto him.

Pulling away gently, his eyes meet her own, blinking sluggishly. His hands moving from hers to wrap around her midsection, face once again moving to her neck.

“I don’t think there’s anything in this world that can make me stop loving you, wife.”

“Likewise, husband.”

I love finding old writing from months ago that I just completely gave up on lmao. Idkw but the idea of Castin being like..so comfort starved triggers something in my brain. I love it when warrior men get all emotionalllll. Oh, this also don’t proofread either, I don’t think any of my stuff will actually be 💀. Am I gonna reuse the same Desmond image for every Castin fic??..perhaps

I hope you guys enjoyed this one too! I’ve been trying to post more but life is life and it literally stops for no one so I might just be scattering around random writes here and there lol. As always, comment about what you liked and what you didn’t like, or leave me a request in my inbox! I love ur guy’s ideas and seeing people request stuff makes me heart so happy ❤️❤️

(P.S. does anyone know how to make a master list?? I rlly wanna make one but I’ve got no clue how to work this😭. I’m doing all this on my phone so uh, help it wanted)

#baroness #castin hammer #desmond asmr #x reader #Castin #pt 2 #not really #comfort #female reader

13 notes · View notes

omeletcat · 7 months

Note

hi there! could you tell me what your game is about? it looks SO cool and i’d love to play it once it’s finished! i absolutely adore your sprite work. i’ve always wanted to make video games, im currently learning how to code but it’s kind of slow going lol. have a wonderful day! <3

HII OMG TYSMM well the game is a roguelike like? its similair but lacks the aspects of permadeath and autogenerated rooms and dungeons, my plan for the game is a chapter system where every chapter works more like an episode in a tv show than a full game that all match together as one giant artwork, slowly giving out more lore and character info along the way.

the story follows Jessie and Rae 2 main characters (but mostly Jessie) In the world of my story there are 3 planes of existence, the human world the afterlife and the spirit world when a soul (a source of life emotion and magic in a living thing) is in a state between life and death (mental or physical or many different ways this can happen) it can get shot out of place and get stuck between life and death and end up in the spirit world, a world with much more magic then the human world. Filled with... spirits. a magical plane with no sun or moon, with stars floating around giving of light, warmth and magic to the world. Jessie wakes up one day transported there but they can't remember how tf they got there, all they remember is the hand of a man grabbing at them, after finding a purple piece of shard and absorb it, they realize their soul has been shattered into pieces and scattered across the world, so now they try and find them all to remember who they are and how they ended up in the spirit world, Rae is the second main character, who really really wants to leave the spirit world. this is most i can trust myself to spill right now! because i have SO SO SO much idea's and plans and i'm scared i'm gonna reveal stuff i should probably keep under wraps for now, stuff like Rae's personality lore, Jessie's... everything. and the worlds aesthetics

i made this one image with a BUNCH of lore pushed in it but to explain it all i would need to type a bunch of lore so i'm procrastinating on that but here it is

and then some random images and sprites to give off a nice vibe for the game: some character sprite design and monster idea's.

TYSM FOR YOUR QUESTION CAUS I TOTALLY FORGOT TO MAKE A POST EXPLAINING WTF THE GAME IS ACTUALLY ABOUT.

20 notes · View notes

https-harlow · 4 months

Text

He Loves Me Not, He Loves Me

Thank you so much to @swiftly-harlow for giving this idea to me and supporting me as I’m writing! I dont know when I’m going to start posting this, but enjoy the sneak peak!

Tw: physical and emotional abuse

"How many times has he told you he doesn't love you?"

Sydney and I sat on her bed facing one another as the question slipped past her lips.

"He loves me, he tells me all the time,” I could feel the lump in my throat forming as I answered.

Silence suffocated and filled the room. I knew. I knew he didn't love me, but something about his toxicity kept me hooked. He was bad for me, but something about him kept me coming back.

"Do you love him?"

"Yes,” I said, but there was a hint of caution in my voice, of course I loved him, how could I not. As much as I loved him, I knew he wasn’t good for me. You could put a gun to my head and I’d never admit it though.

Caleb Abbott was something out of this world. Some days he loved me, and some days he didn’t. Yet the merry-go-round made me stay — It was like a drug.

I quickly switched the subject, “I’m hungry, what do you want to eat?”

Sydney rolled her eyes, “Lottie…”

“Sydney…” I mimicked. “Can you please just drop it?”

“Lottie, you came to my house with bruises on your arms, and tears streaming down your face. Why won’t you admit he’s bad for you?”

I sighed, knowing she was right. I was stuck, yet I wanted to stay. He was bad for me, really bad for me. But I feared that If I let him go, there wouldn’t be a single soul left to love me.

Tears threatened my eyes as Sydney looked at me. I needed a way to break the cycle. Nothing was getting better, I needed a change.

***

I sat on the curb with a blanket over my shoulders as the red and blue lights reflected off my neighbors windows. The ENT shined a bright light in my eyes as they ran a small cognitive exam.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine,” I lied. I was utterly traumatized.

I heard someone scream my name as my eyes looked up from the concrete beneath me.

“Lottie! Oh my gosh!”

Hannah’s arms wrapped around me as I winced from the slight pain. I could tell from the look in her eyes that she wanted to kill him. She was angry, yet wanted to make sure I was okay first.

“That mother fucking piece of shitty ass, I swear to God if I ever see him again, I’m going to-“

I shuddered at the memories from hours before as Hannah went on a rant of how terrible my boyfriend is.

“Caleb? Are you home?” I called out as I entered our quiet home.

It reeked of alcohol. Broken bottles and wrappers were discarded around the living room.

Silence.

“Caleb Alexander Abbott?!”

No answer. Again.

“Caleb, I know you're here,” I called out, walking around the corner and into the kitchen. I found Caleb leaning against the dining room table. Another broken alcohol bottle that had fallen off the counter, leaving a puddle of cheap vodka behind.

“Where the fuck did you go?” Caleb asked, his voice carried no emotion, which was enough to send chills down my spine.

“I went to hang out with some friends, I told you that before I left.” I said, a lump already forming in my throat.

“I don’t fucking remember you telling me that,” Caleb slurred. “If you want to go be with your friends instead of me, then go stay with them and get the fuck out.”

“No- that's not- I want to be with you, I’m not going to hang out with them now, I want to be with you. Let’s just go to bed.”

“I said, get the fuck out,” Caleb repeated himself, raising his voice when I didn’t leave. I flinched as Caleb reached for the closest thing to him and threw it in my direction. The glass cup shattering as it hit the wall, a couple of the shards cutting into my skin. Caleb rushed across the room, grabbing my arm so tightly, I knew it would leave a bruise. I tried to pull away from his grasp as he tried to pull me towards the door.

From there it was a blur, each cut and bruise holding a memory that I wouldn’t, or didn’t want to remember. Our neighbors called the cops, like they had in the past. The cops coming to break up the abuse, I couldn’t even call it a fight because I didn’t have the strength mentally or physically to fight back.

#original character #original story

14 notes · View notes

heartsickelf · 2 months

Text

Your Mother Loved You (Chapter 2)

Summary:

Suffering from the loss of the Queen many decades later, Thranduil and Legolas still search for ways to cope with the loss while Thranduil struggles to take on the role of both parents while protecting his kingdom and raising his son. Legolas realises there may be a way to see his mother again.

Chapter 2

Many decades had passed since that horrific day that still laid heavily on young Legolas’ heart, mind, and soul. His father who had previously not been as active in his upbringing and usually left the affection and emotional development to his mother, became present and involved in all aspects of his son's upbringing. Thranduil took upon himself the role of two parents as best he could and gave as much time to his now motherless son as his position allowed. Many nights the King would find himself rushing to Legolas’ room to calm his sleeping child who was reliving the loss of his mother in his dreams. Legolas’ screams could be heard throughout the royal hallways and each time his father secured him in the safety of his arms and gently rocked him back and forth, whispering words of comfort that would penetrate the horrific dreams until they faded away and allowed his son to rest.

These nights were becoming fewer and fewer as time passed, however, the emotional and physical toll they were having on the King was starting to show. As he promised his son and the spirit of his wife that he would be there for their child, to help Legolas heal from the trauma of losing her in such a violent way, Thranduil pushed his own emotional needs to the side. He never really took the time his heart needed to begin it’s own healing journey as he prioritised his son above himself. The nights when Legolas was able to rest peacefully and dream of better days were the nights that hit Thranduil hardest, as his own memories of that night would flood his mind since his son was not providing a distraction. The sensation of her cold, lifeless body against his warm skin as he held her against him, trying to will the life back into her. The sight of her blood which had soaked the front and back of her mauve-coloured dress from where the sword had penetrated her body from behind and pierced through to the front. The fear of momentarily believing that his son had also been killed before finding him alive and safe within the embrace of his forest. These memories plagued the King more deeply than he realised and it wasn’t until he was alone that he allowed them to take over.

Grabbing a pitcher of wine, Thranduil started to pour himself a drink into a chalice. As the wine was flowing from the pitcher into the chalice, Thranduil realised that this particular cup was the one he drank from on the night of his wedding. His mind had wandered briefly to that time, remembering how he embraced his new wife as they slowly swayed to the sound of elvish music, listening to words and melodies wishing them a long, happy life together. The wine spilled over the top of the chalice bringing Thranduil’s attention back to the present. He was a widow, left behind to face the ages of this world alone. He threw the pitcher against a wall, shattering it causing shards of glass and drops of wine to scatter across his chambers. Looking back down to the chalice, he picked up the over-full cup and hurled it at the mirror which also shattered, pieces falling to the floor and fragmenting upon impact, making his chambers even more unsafe to be in.

Falling to the floor, Thranduil placed his hands over his face and let out a blood-curdling scream whilst leaning over until his forehead touched the ground. Upon hearing the shattering glass and scream from his King, Feren rushed through the door of the King’s chambers.

“My Lord! Is everything alr….”. Feren’s voice faltered as he took in the sight of his broken King and friend. Tears forming in his eyes which he quickly brushed away as this was not the time for his own emotions to surface. “My Lord, I am sorry. Do you wish me to leave?”.

Thranduil’s breath was shaking in his chest as he sat up on the heels of his feet and looked at his captain before staring into the fireplace. “Why was she taken from me, from our son, Feren? How could Valar have allowed her to suffer as she did during her end? Did she not serve her people, her Kingdom well enough to earn her path to the Undying Lands? Why am I here while she is not? And Legolas, my precious boy, endured and continues to harbor so much trauma from that day while I can do nothing but offer reassurance and comfort while craving such support myself. How do I go on, knowing that the wrong parent was taken that day? She would have protected Mirkwood just as well as I while raising Legolas far better than I ever could. She was our sun, our strength, and our healer. How does life continue without a sun?”. Thranduil’s words struck Feren in his heart and he could not find the words nor the will to respond. Instead, he walked towards his King who was still kneeling on the glass-covered floor, and placed a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder.

“My Lord, our sun has faded. Your people have felt it every day since the loss of our Queen. But, with your undying love for Legolas, a new sun shall rise within him, and with that, warmth will once again spread through this kingdom as he embraces his mother’s spirit more and more with time. The Queen lives, my King. She is felt within each word you impart on your people; with each embrace you give the prince. Her body is gone but her spirit has never left yours nor your son’s sides and her strength remains within the hearts of your people. Do not falter, my Lord, for she would not have allowed that. To see you like this would surely have broken her heart.” Upon speaking those words, rain could be heard gently falling outside, almost as if they were the tears of the Valar itself. Feren felt the touch of a hand reach up to clasp the top of his own that was still resting on his King’s shoulder. Letting out a sigh, Thranduil stood up and faced his captain.

“Feren, I never thanked you for what you did for my wife that evening. It did not occur to me how difficult bringing her back home in that manner would have been for both you and the guards. You did so with the utmost respect and loyalty to your Queen. I can feel in your words how this loss has affected you, even after all this time. You share this emptiness with myself, my son, and all who loved her.” Thranduil brought Feren into his space, holding one of his captain’s forearms with one of his hands and the back of Feren’s head with the other. The King touched his forehead to his captains as a sign of understanding and respect.

“My Lord, it was my duty and my honor.” Feren said as they moved back from one another, taking in the exhausted appearance of the King’s eyes. “With your permission, I will watch over Legolas this evening so you can sleep. Your son and your kingdom need you and you must be rested in order to continue performing admirably.” Thranduil closed his eyes and gently nodded his head, acknowledging Feren’s request and taking on board his words. “That would be appreciated, Feren. Thank you. It seems perhaps that this night is one of the better ones for Legolas as he continues to sleep soundly. I shall assist my rest this evening with medicinal tea. Perhaps she will appear to me during my deep sleep and fill me with words of encouragement.”

“In that case, my Lord, I shall take my leave. Rest peacefully, for the sun shall rise again” Feren turned around to leave the King’s chambers. As he headed for the doors to make his exit, he failed to hear the gentle steps of a young elf running away down the hall. Legolas had heard and seen everything that had transpired within his father’s chambers, after being woken up from the sounds of glass shattering. Reaching his bed, the prince quickly jumped in and pulled the covers up over his head out of fear that Feren had heard him scurry away and would be coming to check on him. When he heard no one approaching, Legolas pulled down the covers to his shoulders and turned over so he was looking up at the ceiling. His mind replayed all that was said between his father and the captain. Then he remembered the words his father uttered on the night of his mother's passing: “…we shall meet again in the halls of Mandos. Rest now and await my arrival”. Those words his father had spoken whirled through the young prince’s mind every day since that moment and now tonight, his father once again noted that he would see her in his sleep after taking a medicinal tea, a tea that elves of Legolas’ age were not permitted to ingest as their young forms would not be able to break down the properties effectively.

In that moment, Legolas knew what he needed to do. Like the King, he also needed his mother’s comfort and if it were possible to reach her again as his father kept implying, he would find her by any means necessary. The prince closed his eyes in the hopes of being able to drift off to a peaceful sleep while in his mind, he set out a plan to gather what he needed for the following evening. Tomorrow, while his father was busy with his council, Legolas would find this medicinal tea so he could look upon his mother and hopefully fall into her arms once more.

9 notes · View notes

honeycollectswhump · 1 year

Text

Gone, gone

[masterlist]

CW: accidental self-harm-like actions, suicidal ideation (NOT acted upon), blood, emeto, loss of a friend, mental breakdown, referenced: substance abuse, pet whump recapture

The plates are the first thing she sees. She had set the table and prepared dinner. The sauce is still in the pot, now cold. Aveline should put the pot aside, clean away the remains of what was supposed to be their meal. She doesn’t.

The plates are the first thing she sees, and she tears them down. She swipes over the table, not stopping as they shatter on the ground. Gone.

The glasses are next. Intricate, little designs that once belonged to her old landlady. Aveline pushes her palms into the glass, crushing them until shards dig into her flesh. She doesn’t feel anything. Blood seeps into the tablecloth, that's how she knows, the knowledge just barely grazing her mind but leaving no impact. Gone.

Tears blur her vision, as the grabs the cloth. A breath, then two. With a jerk, she rips and tears, cutlery clattering to the ground. Aveline claws at it. She wants it to hurt. It can never hurt, she can never hurt, but she wants to.

This is pain, she thinks, this must be pain.

A scream wrenches itself from her throat. Her voice cracks. She cracks. She is in her body and she is not. The sight of her home disgusts her, it destroys her. If she is loud enough she won’t have to hear herself.

A glint of the sun against one of their pictures catches her eye. Aveline whirls around, cloth in hand, disoriented. She stumbles against the wall, the cloth getting caught on the frame, and she tears and tears and tears.

The photo falls to the ground, breaking on impact. There is a crack over his face, there is a crack over Atlas’ face and he’s gone. Aveline stares at it, at the ruined picture, at what she’ll never have again. Gone. He’s gone.

The thought settles over her like a fog, taking over. Someone is screaming, she is screaming, and she’s breaking apart at the seams. Aveline yanks at the coffee machine and throws it across the room. It collides with a cabinet, the booming sound ringing through their empty house. Filling the silence between her screams, her sobs. Gone.

There are still shards stuck in her hand as Aveline lurches forward to retch into the sink, her ears filled with a deafening ring. Nothing but bile comes up but she feels like she can see pieces of her very soul laying exposed to the world, ugly and rotten, with fraying edges. Fat tears roll down her face, dripping down and mixing with droplets of blood. Gone.

Aveline crumbles to the ground, falling hard on her knees, barely registering the impact that will leave her with bruises she will never be able to feel.

It doesn’t make sense!

Atlas was supposed to go out for a short walk, he was supposed to come back just in time for dinner. He didn’t even take his phone with him.

They told her he’d run away, like he did before, from his old life. But Aveline knows, she knows, he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t run without preparation, he’d take money with him, or a proper jacket or anything at all.

They don’t trust him, they say there is no evidence. They say it’s to be expected of someone like him, someone like her Attie, especially with his addiction.

He is six months sober now, but they don’t believe him or they don’t care. To them, it doesn’t matter how hard he worked to get to this point, how much blood, sweat and tears went into this. Atlas had fought to get bits and pieces of his life back, that his old Master had stolen from him. It would be all for nothing now.

Atlas is gone, he was taken.

And no one will do anything.

It hits her then, all at once.

There is nothing.

There is no hint, no message, no reason. No evidence and no case. No one to turn to, no one to lead the search.

He’s alone, she’s utterly alone and he’s gone.

Gone.

The moon rises. It takes a while for Aveline to notice the shift in light, to notice that the taunting sunset has given way to the cold moonlight. Distantly Aveline thinks her knees must hurt, her joints must be stiff. Time simply passes by her without touching her and it’s not like her body can tell her otherwise.

The blood has started to dry, sticking to her skin and clothes in clumps. She is barely there, her mind moving through a swamp of numbness. This must be pain and it will kill her.

It will eat her from the inside out until there is nothing left and Aveline will welcome the bliss of nothingness with open arms. She can’t do this, she simply can’t. She can’t continue on with her life, as if nothing happened, can’t imagine a life without him, without her Attie.

She wishes him back, begs for him, even if in his darkest days, high or drunk, she doesn’t care, she’d take it all if just to get him back. Having him back, anything would be enough.

Maybe she will die like this. Aveline contemplates never moving again, it has nothing left to give anymore. Maybe she will starve or die of thirst, maybe her heart will just mercifully stop beating. If it doesn’t, she could help, doing nothing but accelerating a natural process.

Then he’d be gone and she would never have to feel this torment again because she’d be gone too.

Still, something inside her fights the thought, sending a spike of urgent desperation up and down her spine.

Atlas, her Atlas isn’t dead. He is gone for her but he isn’t gone gone.

He would be if she gives up. He’d be gone, in the sense that he could never be there again if there isn’t someone fighting for him.

Someone has to do something.

It won’t be any law enforcement and it won’t be the Pet Lib shelter Attie told her about either, the one that had helped him become who he is now, doesn’t believe her or in him. Maybe she could ask around in Pet Lib groups but it’s not like Atlas ever gave her access to their resources and Aveline knows they are notoriously impossible to find for outsiders.

And what can a girl like her do anyways? She has nothing but her mind and her body and that can never be enough when all the world demands is money and power.

But there is no alternative, is there? If Aveline doesn’t do anything, then no one will, and then Atlas will be left all alone in whatever hell has claimed him.

She is nothing without Atlas and maybe these feelings will pass but Aveline hopes they don’t. She holds onto the longing, the desperation, making her frantic, making her shake.

In the end, Aveline has everything to give. If she loses her mind or loses her body, it will be no different from now. And for now, it’s enough to help her get up, to help her move, even if she is just a tool to get her Atlas back.

taglist: @octopus-reactivated let me know if you want to be added or removed :)

39 notes · View notes