#silver hair till ❤️

[endlich-allein]

Till, Odjazdy Festival, Katowice, Poland, 22-11-1997 © Grzesiek Kszczotek

[themotherofblood]

Hello!

I saw that you asked about request for Tywin. I wanted to ask something brief about modern!Tywin with his young girlfriend. Anything you can think of with that scenario would be fine.

Thanks for reading me!❤️

you’ve been so engaged with the whole mafia Tywin thing, fyi I love you for this ask because that’s what inspired it bubs. I feel like this is a quaint set up chapter for this series :)

synopsis: a drunk encounter between Tywin and his golden darling.

warnings: shoe riding, AGE GAP, mentions of bullets. alcohol consumption.

word count - 2k+

masterlist | series masterlist | Lion’s Grasp AU

There was an odd sense of contentment, you were too comfortable with the life you had right now, devoid of having to ask too many questions— mostly for your own good. You had found a jewel of a man, and yes the gold digger comments never sit right with you but a man so fine, devoted was far good of a catch to let go. You wouldn’t think twice but close your eyes and jump down the cliff that was your relationship, there was no lie in the subtle fear that lingered in your heart around him. A striking silver fox and total charmer, it took learning to even breathe freely around him. 

Here you are now, in your own little apartment. Dabbing your fingers on your lips to soften the red lipstick, with the exam season finally over, you could let your hair down and drink till you become very aware of the organs within you and the booze— well, your perfect man happened to own some of the most notorious clubs around Lanniston, more like his son Tyrion but all the same. You looked up at the mirror, feeling great about how two hours of work made you look. 

You hesitantly looked at your phone, cheekily smiling at yourself as you unlocked it and snapped a picture of yourself and sent it to Tywin, you could almost predict the message you’d receive back. 

“Do not drink too much darling.” 

You gnawed at your thumb, shaking your head before shooting him a quick text agreeing with him. A bald-faced lie and he knew so, his men were already on the lookout for you and your girlfriends at Satin House. 

The music, as usual, blared so loud you were sure your heart was thudding the same beat, it felt liberating to not spend another night in dirty pyjamas and crying about your coursework. The henchmen Tywin had put up diligently did their jobs as not a single man dared to go beyond the stern glares these bulked men shot their way. You were sure Tyrion was here somewhere, the air was far too sultry for his involvement to be missing. 

You left early, however, knowing your heeled feet nor Tywin would appreciate it but mostly because you missed him terribly. Practically barring him from witnessing the mess you were in the past month. You huffed out into the cold air of the night, the skies were clear and downtown Lannisport was still alive. Meren already stood at the ready by the town car, you rolled your eyes at him. He always had this pinched look to him, very mean. 

“To home, miss?” He asked as you shuffled into the back of the car. You merely hummed in reply.

He was quick to the driver’s end, ready to head towards your apartment but you stopped him.

“Where is Mr Lannister?” You asked, eyes closed as you huffed deep breaths to shake away the loopy daze in your head. 

“At work, miss.” 

“Take me there then, take me to him.” 

Meren hesitated for a moment, his orders were otherwise but how could he deny his boss’s girl. So he nodded, and you rested your head on the window. Drawing little pictures from the fog that followed with your mouth breathing. That lulled you to sleep somehow from the twenty-minute drive that was to Loren Tower, you were roused by Meren as you blinked away the small nap. 

In front of you was the eighty-two-floor skyscraper, the first time you visited your jaw nearly hit the ground. The building was nearly empty for the night other than security and other essential staff who were only here at two in the morning because their boss was a cruel, cruel man. You fixed your hair in the reflection of the elevator mirror, hoping Tywin agrees with this little surprise drunk visit. 

When the elevator dinged open to his floor, his burnt-out but pristinely dressed assistant was the first face you saw, she looked like she was nearly checked out. 

“Miss—“ she raised the telephone but you pressed your finger to your lips, forcing her to keep your little secret as you walked towards his office. Your heels clicked against the annoyingly polished and glossed marble floors. 

Without knocking you pushed in, leaning against the mahogany door frame, admiring the view you had craved for weeks. His white button rolled up his taut forearms, fingers toying with the idle coffee cup. Brows pulled to a harsh gaze, as usual, he didn’t even look up. 

“Reached home, has she?” 

His crisp voice nearly made your already wobbly legs even more unstable. You smirked at him, he looked almost cute— so focused. You pulled in your lips before speaking up. 

“You should really get yourself a third assistant, poor Cassandra looks dead.” 

Tywin’s eyes shot up, immediately locking onto yours before burning into every inch of your body, from your toes to your head— torturously slow as he leaned back onto his chair. 

“I could— you know, fill that position if it’s open.” you hiccuped, pushing yourself away from the door frame. A dopey smile on your lips softens Tywin’s resolution. 

“How many have you indulged in, love?” 

You place your point exactly on the tip of your nose to prove your point, you weren’t aware of your organs just yet. You half wanted to crawl on top of his table and then onto his lap but you chose the more appropriate route and walked around the desk and then plopped onto his lap. 

“What’s the point of all this, if you still work till two?” You kiss his cheek, nuzzling into the stubble he had grown. 

“It’s tax season.”

“Tax season.” you scoff making him look up at you questioningly “Just because I don’t ask questions doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

“Like your hench-“

He cuts you off before you could finish, pressing his lips to yours and pulling your thighs around his so you straddle his lap. The taste of sour cherry vodka is very apparent on your lips.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to darling.” he lectures, leaning lower to kiss your neck. 

“On— on a more serious note, I could use a big girl job.” you smile at him, fixing the already untouched collar of his shirt. Truly, the corporate market was the Dothraki Sea without any administrative experience. 

He raises his brow. “Well, are you after Cassandra’s job?” 

“No, no — but what rich businessman doesn’t have a dozen assistants.” You shrugged, “And I think I have just the right qualifications.”

“Oh, do you now?” 

You eagerly nod, preparing yourself to list a vocal resume. “I make great coffee, a barista duh? I can type quickly, I’m friendly and I can be very pretty and— and” you stick out your pointer and curl it around his collar to pull yourself closer to his ear. 

“I can service you in many other ways, Mr Lannister.” You whisper in his ear before settling back on your calves. 

His gaze hardens once more as he pulls his lips to a tight line. “Alright,” he rubs up your back “you have had one too many.”

This time like an indignant child pouting you pick his pointer finger and place it on the tip of your nose to once again prove you were indeed not wasted and within your right mind. You wanted the job, and you were just a little horny. 

The green of his eyes traced over yours for a moment, before a scoff tumbled from his chest. “You want a job?” 

You nodded your head once more. 

“Earn it then.”

He helped you off of him, letting you settle onto your knees, the rug providing ample protection to your poor knees, you tilted your head confused as he lifted your chin with his pointer. 

“Take your panties off for me.” 

Your breath hitched as excited electrocution began hurtling towards your mound. Your dry spell was to be lifted, another reward for acing your exams. Your eyes were fixated on Tywin as you shuffled your fingers under your green dress and pulled off your black thong, he held your shoulders to stop you from stumbling forwards as you pulled the flimsy fabric back your legs. 

His other hand extended out for you to hand him your panties which he promptly shoved in his pocket.

“Let’s see if you are as qualified as you say you are, little miss.” 

You could stay here all day, oddly warm, comfortable. Minus the heels constricting your feet. It felt nice, it felt good thought it should be humiliating.

You sat on calves, with Jimmy Choo’s on your feet and a diamond pendant necklace around your neck. Head rested against Tywin’s thigh as he sat ever so commandingly in his armchair, his pretty whore knelt between his feet with an aching between your legs. You bite your inner cheek to not moan. 

“Please sir,” you whimpered, feeling another wave hurtling towards you as you rocked your hips against the fine black leather of Tywin’s dress shoes, the texture torturously stimulating your throbbing bud. You gnawed at his knee to stop the surge and then you whimpered once more. 

Your bottom lip wobbled, sniffling as you blinked away your tears. You sat straight with your back straight. You should have chosen the belt lashes instead, this was cruel—so fucking cruel. Here he sat, reading his revenue reports. You, about to be his pretty assistant (only by name) writhing at his feet, eyes glossed and lips bitten, full of colour.

Tywin rather enjoyed this, having you moved to a babbling, tearful mess before he buried his cock in the warm, wet snug for your pussy. He would make you earn the treat, he would have wanted nothing more but to keep you within his eyesight all day, safe and untouched. Your college had already taken such a toll on you he even went through with the private jet arrangements and hotel room to offer you a luxurious escape. His housekeeper, as you sat wiggling by his feet, was packing your luggage. 

“You’ve got to keep quiet, little girl, that was the deal.” His deeper voice crumbles, moving his hand away from the folders to gently pet your hair. 

You looked at him, lips pouted and trembling and nodded your head. Your eyes give him the sweetest most apologetic look, before sinking further into your knees and closing your eyes to avert this feeling of perpetual embarrassment and agony. 

Tywin set down his reports, finally having read through at least a dozen papers before focusing his attention on you. Her pet through your hair, lifting your chin to wipe at your tear-soaked cheeks. 

“Messy little slut.” He tuts, “So desperate to be around me, aren’t you?” 

You nod, sniffling away the more frustrated tears threatening to fall. 

“You’ve earned it.” he pets your cheek once more before the magical words fell from his lips. “Come sweetheart.” 

You nearly sob out in relief as you drop your head against his knee and pick up the pace of grinding against his shoe. Your shoulders shudder just as hard as your legs, your orgasm decimating your resolve. Crying out and heaving as you recover, the muffled sounds of Tywin’s voice coaxing you through it.  

He pulled you back to his lap after, rubbing your back as he put away his work for the night, making a call to have the car prepared. 

“I think I feel my organs now.” You groan against his shoulder, Tywin chuckles, shaking his head, wrapping his blazer around your shoulders before bundling you up. 

He walks out of his office, effortlessly carrying your smaller frame along, he turns to Cassandra’s desk, noting that she indeed looked exhausted. 

“Take your vacation days girl.” He orders as he walks to the elevator. 

“Night Cassandra,” you shoot her a wink over your shoulder. 

You almost doze away on his shoulder as you ride down to the parking, merely a few twitches at your fingertips. 

“Are we going to yours?” you murmur, looking up at him through half-closed eyes. He nods, placing you inside the town car before sternly turning to Meren. 

“The next time you choose to disobey my orders, a bullet will lodge itself within a place you may never find.”

Taglist in the comments

Ahhh, I’m so sorry how long this took to write. Minus the unnecessary things that have gone on for the past few days. My mojo really left me for a week or two but I’m here now, trying to get back into it.

Comments and Reblogs are appreciated.

Also my requests for one shots, this series and Bloody Baby are open, also stop by to my asks any time. I love ranting about my fics hehe.

[cowboydisaster]

Hi again! Thought of another one….

Arthur finds out that reader has a gift for him for Christmas but he hasn’t gotten them anything. So he has to scramble to think of a gift. He ends up making a handful of drawings of reader including some with their beloved horse. And of course reader is over the moon about it

This one isn’t too clever so if you’re not feelin’ it, it’s ok.

🎄❤️

* ˚ ✦ Icebreak * ˚ ✦

pairing: arthur morgan x f!reader word count: 720 a/n: Just a cute lil' drabble. Merry Christmas' eve! Thank you for another really cute prompt!!

cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: ONE day 'till christmas!

christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist

Arthur distinctly remembers the conversation in which you’d both agreed that you wouldn’t be exchanging gifts this year. Alarm bells are going off in his head. Was he supposed to get you a gift anyway? Should he have ignored that conversation entirely? Been a gentleman and got you something nice? Arthur swallows thickly. 

Despite the conversation, Arthur had just found out that you have a gift for him. Sadie has a loud mouth, especially when she’s drunk, and for once, Arthur is grateful for it. At least he has a little time to think of something. He pulls his pocket watch out, glancing at the time. 6:27 PM. A little time. 

In a rush, Arthur jogs into his tent, pulling his journal out of his satchel and placing it on the bed. Beside it, he tosses down a piece of charcoal and a pencil. The camp isn’t in a great financial situation; hence the agreement of no presents. So, he reckons if he can’t buy you something, he’ll just have to make you something. 

Arthur begins drawing, and after a while, the sun fades away, forcing him to switch to lantern light. The side of his hand is caked in lead as he runs the pencil over the pages, capturing the curves of your body, the shine of your smile. He draws his favorite memories of you. The day he gifted you your mare, Sugar. The day you kissed him for the first time. The day he’d brought you to camp. 

Arthur stays up far too late, sketching a handful of pictures of you, taking his time to capture you in the utmost detail. His hand flicks perfectly, catching the waves in your hair, the line of your jaw. Arthur draws you with your mare, with his gelding, with him. 

The group of drawings encapsulate the things that you love the most, and the memories that you hold dear. After finishing half a dozen good drawings, Arthur inspects them, fixing little mistakes, and adding little notes about his love for you. When he’s finished, he takes some old baling twine, tying a little bow around the pages, fixing them until they’re all wrapped up perfectly.

He knows you deserve better, a bracelet of silver or gold. A necklace embedded with gemstones, or a new dress. Those are the things you would have been gifted back in the city. He sighs, looking down at his little homemade gift, knowing that it will just have to do.

— — —

“Alright,” Arthur whispers, pulling out the ribbon-wrapped sketches, “Go on n’ open ‘em.” 

Your eyes open slowly, drifting to the white pages that Arthur is extending out to you. 

Hesitantly, you take them, eyes searching up to Arthur’s for reassurance. He nods, and you smile, pulling the twine ribbon, letting it spiral to the floor. You flip the first paper, recognizing it as being ripped out from Arthur’s journal, and you gasp. 

It’s a beautiful sketch, one of you sitting up in bed, hair draped down your back, a graceful smile on your lips. Even through paper and pencil, Arthur has managed to capture the sparkle in your eyes, the optimism in your countenance. Next to the drawing is a small note. 

Early mornings with my lady.

Your heart warms, and you flip to the next one. You find a sketch of you, laying on the back of your beloved mare, arms wrapped around her neck. The drawings are stunning. Works of art that should be posted in a gallery in Saint Denis, and he’s giving them to you. You know how private Arthur is with his journal, and you’re honored.  

“You like ‘em?” Arthur asks, nervous of your silence as you continue to look through. Tears pool in your eyes as you look up to him, holding up some of the precious gifts. 

“You drew me. Arthur,  I love them.” Sincerity is thick in your voice, and Arthur wipes a tear away from your cheek. 

“Didn’t wanna make you cry.” He jokes. You huff. 

“They’re so beautiful, so meaningful. No one’s ever done anything like this for me. Not in my whole life— not before you.” You whisper. 

Arthur’s arms wrap around you then, pulling you into his chest, shushing away your sniffles. 

“They’re perfect, Arthur.” You murmur against him. He smiles. 

“Merry Christmas, darlin’.”

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola @calcarius445

[eilinelsghost]

Fight With Thine Own Hand

Happy happy birthday, @that-angry-noldo! You are such a lovely, talented, kind, and caring person and it's been a delight getting to know you over this past year.

I hope the horrors of a completed Orodreth-and-Finarfin-have-the-worst-day-ever bring you some suffering joy(?) on this, your day of birth. ❤️

Apologies in advance for *gestures at everything below*

The laugh rumbled through Finarfin’s bones. He was only half-conscious, the room reeling about him with sickening fluidity, the reek burning his nostrils and stabbing along his throat, raw from the screams of battle and the torment of his journey across Anfauglith. His legs had given out amid the endless descent and at the last he had been dragged by his hair across the threshold and kicked to lie gasping and helpless in the open space before Morgoth’s seat.

And the Foe laughed.

“Your courtesy is somewhat lessoned since the blinding days of Tirion.” Morgoth’s voice drifted over the prostrate form at his feet and Finarfin shuddered at its familiarity. “Your brothers came to me willingly and I find I take offense that your approach is so marked by coercion.”

Finarfin fought to catch his breath. The air was acrid and smoke stung his eyes. But there was Tree Light—Tree Light! Amid the choking dark and terror, the mingled silver and gold touched his gaze for the first time since all he loved had broken beyond repair. Ai, Malinalda… Ninquelótë… His eyes watered from the brilliance, wept as memory rose and drowned him in its familiar despair. Rebellion, repentance, reparation, reconciliation, and yet he too fell now at the feet of Darkness. Airë Manwë, were none of them to escape it?

“It is a poor finish to collect the coward last of all, but I am satisfied. Each whelp of that petty king now accounted for. Each son of his brought down by my hand. It will suffice.”

His eyes had begun to acclimate to the fractured vision of the nethermost hall, impenetrable darkness mingled with unquenchable light. It was like seeing through the glass windows in the palace upon Túna where each was constructed from shards of shaped glass, and the new sun stabbed in fractal light through its facets. Everything image here was pieced together in shards.

There were wolves about the throne, beneath its looming bulk. And with naught but his own hands he slew the wolf who came… No, press down the thought. Memory would only weaken. Despair is what widens the cracks, hope is that which binds them together. Think rather on Tirion. Think on gold and silver, on Ingoldo and Litsemir bending together over the parchment in the library, gold and silver mingled in the light, and gold and silver mingled in their hair. 

Hope. Hold to hope and he would hold himself whole.

Silver glimmered amid the shadow beside the throne. A familiar silver. It ran like the water of Alqualondë’s harbors, there in the far years when those were yet an image of joy and not desperation. When they danced in the twilit brush of Telperion and Laurelin reaching out through the Calacirya, and Eärwen murmured their son’s hair was lit with the very image of that silver…

Litsemir.

Finarfin’s cry was a hoarse gasp as he tried to push up from the stones.

“Down, dog.”

Some force outside himself had control of his arms and they wrenched out from under him, the air knocked from his lungs once again as his chest and face rammed against the floor. Litsemir, Litsemir, Litsemir…His son’s name pounded through his senses. He was a phantom, surely a phantom. They had told him of Orodreth’s end, those few Nargothromdrim he had met in the Falas; the dragon had come and the host’s blood was scattered across Tumhalad in wreck irreparable, and Orodreth was lost. 

Ai, holy Valar, they had said lost, they had not said slain. His eyes dragged upward once again till he saw the face, half-shrouded in gloom but unmistakable. The slight features, his mother’s silver hair, the sharp slant of his ears which had ever been more pronounced than his siblings. Litsemir…Artaresto… How beautiful he was, even here in the clinging dark; half his face in shadow and half lit by the echo of that long lost light. It danced off of him even as it had when he ran through the valley around Tirion, a shy and quiet child brimming over with laughter. The joy in that face was silenced now, etched in the light as though of stone, too pale and too still.

“Söa, the guest cannot stand.”

There was a pause. Then his son was walking toward him, descending the dais with silent steps, and nearing, nearing…

Finarfin reached out to him with all his thought and at once an unbearable weight crushed his senses. It was pressing forward through a bog, every movement a grim wrench through the will bearing down about him, but he was close, he could feel the ripples about his son’s mind like the shimmer of sea water, he could nearly reach him. And then he touched a wall of ice. His thought flinched back in shock and he shuddered as Orodreth’s hands closed about his wrists and pulled him up from the ground with unexpected strength. The guards who stood yet at his sides took hold of his forearms and his son reached up to retrieve the shackles hanging loose in the air above him without ever looking at his face. 

“Litsemir,” Finarfin whispered as the iron locked about his flesh, “Onya…How has he hurt thee, Artaresto?”

The second shackle was fastened about his other wrist and he felt a rising horror through his senses as Orodreth still made no sign of recognition. “Onya! Yéta nin!” 

There, at last. The slight twinge along the jaw muscle, the little quiver that ever heralded the first signs of the storm. He was alive, he was here yet within the marble visage.

“Artaresto–” he began again, then broke off with a gasp as the chains drew suddenly taught and he was hauled to his feet, arms stretched painfully above his head.

“You have heard the story of your brother’s ruin, I am certain.” The voice rumbled again through the cracked light. The ever-burning gems lit swaths of the chamber about the throne, but some deep, tangible darkness hovered yet about the visage and Finarfin could see naught beyond the sharp edges of his crown. “So you will know that a crushed fly nevertheless may prove an irritant. Your brother died with a debt unpaid, Finwion.”

The shackles were cutting into the edges of his hands, and his feet scrabbled against stone in an attempt to hold his weight, but he had been lifted just high enough that he could gain little traction and no more than a margin of relief. Which brother, he wondered frantically, his reason spinning the possible scenarios. What would the Foe count in liability? There was movement in the shadows about him and he felt the hair prickle at the back of his neck.

“Seven debts,” the voice continued, “if we are to draw the contract clearly.”

Nolofinwë. His apprehension turned to panic as Elwing’s voice sprang from his memory, quiet and clear, recounting the roll of the dead, calling out their deeds in effigy. And he wounded Morgoth with seven wounds, and seven times Morgoth gave a cry of anguish.

“Litsemir,” Finarfin breathed as his son lingered before him, and he saw the shudder run through his frame. “Onya, do you hear me?”

Once more the hall rumbled with mirthless laughter and a pitch of mockery ran through the words. “Tell him your name, laman,[1] so that he may address you rightly.”

Orodreth hesitated and the shiver rippled across his jaw once more.

“Your name!” The intonation was a snarl now and Finarfin saw his son flinch at the sound.

“I am called Söa Ustation.”[2] The ghost of his child’s voice passed over him, cold and flat, fractured as all the room about him. And in that moment the eyes shifted up at last, blue as the heedless gems his mother once cast along the shores with her laughter, piercing and bright as sea spray, deadened now and glassy.

For the first time Finarfin saw the white lines tracing across his face, a lace-pattern of scarring, and he felt hot fury rising through every vein. Holy Manwë, the number of them…And then he saw that the other too was bound in iron. A band wound around the neck before him and the name he had spoken was etched in repetition about its circumference. Filth, the son of Usurper. An empty chain loop rested below the chin, a mockery of where a gemstone might lie, and its laden potential drew a choked strain of profanity from Finarfin’s lips.

“Söa, call out the debt that he might know it in full.”

There was hardly a hesitation this time before his son’s voice began again in rote recitation. One by one he listed the tally of seven wounds, but Finarfin hardly heard them. His eyes were bound to the threaded scars along the cheekbones, encircling the lips, the brows…Varda, there was not an inch without.

“One blow dealt to the thigh of the left leg, severing the muscle. One blow to the wrist of the sword arm.“

“Onya…” Finarfin pressed hard against his son’s thought, pleading against every edge and crevice he could find. Thou art named Artaresto son of Arafinwë, long-sought and beloved. Thou art named Litsemir son of Eärwen, sea’s jewel and song. The ice shuddered against his touch.

“One blow to the right leg below the knee.”

A slight crack had opened and it was with an effort that Finarfin held back from pouring all his love through it to force the breaking dam. Instead, he rested against the fracture, a hand hovering upon a lintel, and held out the memory of twilight, of his own voice drifting through the air amid the sea-brine and rolling surf, of an infant curled within his arms. The hair upon the tiny head was fine as corn silk and shimmering in the mirrored starlight. Hairanna palan-tírienwa, he had sung, endórellon aldarembinë… [3]

It was brittle now, the barricade between them. A fluttering thing forged of fear.

“One blow piercing beneath the eighth rib.”

Fanoiolossë, lyé liruvan han ëar, si han ëaron!

With a quiver of panic, the resistance gave way and Finarfin’s breath caught in a choke. The expanse before him was as splintered as the gloom about them, a trammeled corridor, flinching and terrified. 

“One blow hewing the left foot and rendering it lame.”

The gloom reared up as Orodreth’s voice trailed off into silence. Finarfin saw in the corner of his eye that an Orc captain had moved to stand beside them while the litany was recited. He was tall, a match for Finarfin’s stature, and his face was shaped still with lines of beauty. 

“Dutifully have you learned your lessons, laman.” Morgoth’s voice fell nearly to a breath and Finarfin had to strain to hear the words. But he saw Orodreth tense before him as it continued. “Now show them forth.”

The captain stepped forward and held out a knife, long and cruel, and Orodreth’s hand shook as he took the hilt in hand. 

Another memory reached through the tenuous brush of thought and Finarfin’s blood ran cold as the fragmented snatches reached him. A dark-haired Elf, vaguely familiar—Gaelon, captain—bound even as Finarfin was now, the same whispered voice of command, the same drowning panic, a hot iron clattering from Orodreth’s hand and his son’s voice sobbing I cannot, I cannot. Then in a burning rush he was struck with nausea, with terror and horror and a relentless barrage of images—the same Elf again, his body variously contorted and mutilated, alive still and screaming—

The memory broke apart as Orodreth stepped forward, and at last he looked up of his own will to meet his father’s eyes. Refuse, said the Foe’s voice in memory, and I shall decide instead what he undergoes.

“One blow dealt to the thigh of the left leg, severing the muscle.” Morgoth’s voice rumbled in the darkness and the knife shook as it hovered in the space between them.

And at once Finarfin’s fear settled into defiance. This, at least, this he could give. He had left his child in the dark of Araman—he had left all of them pressing onward through the clinging mists, every infant he cradled renounced with his retreating steps—but here he would hold him through every step in the darkness.

“One blow dealt to the thigh,” Finarfin echoed, holding his son’s eye, and through the same path he pressed the song once more, the lullaby encircling each precious fragment within its embrace.

A Elentári Tintallë, his spirit sang as the first strike passed through his flesh.

The melody shuddered with pain and his right arm tensed against the coming blow, tyelpë pendas mírilya…

…menelo alcar elerrimbë! He ground his teeth nearly to breaking as he fought back the threatening scream. The third strike landed.

Hairanna palan-tírienwa, he sang. His blood began to pool upon the floor. 

“One blow piercing beneath the eighth rib.”

…endórellon aldarembinë, Litsemir was weeping. Hold him fast.

Fanoiolossë, lyé liruvan, he sang as his breath faltered,

…han ëar, si han ëaron! The blade hewed through the bones of his foot and he could no longer hold back a cry as he collapsed against the shackles. He dangled, helpless as the blood ran down his limbs. He was dizzy. He could not hold.

“Atta!” The knife clattered to the ground and his son’s arms were about him, clinging and desperate. The chains cut into the wounded wrists, but at no angle could Orodreth lift him without worsening some other wound. 

“Back, Söa. The debt remains.”

“I have done all your bidding!” Orodreth staggered back at once despite the protest, his breath heaving in ragged gasps.

“There is one thing yet lacking,” the voice murmured, “and then this score is settled.”

“Please…” Litsemir whispered, but the captain stepped forward and held out a second tool—four curved spikes, splayed out from a short handle—and he sobbed as he took it within his palm. 

Then through the haze, Finarfin saw the Foe lean forward; and through the haze he saw the face pass at last into the light, scarred with deep trenches along each side—the signet seal of Manwë’s messenger.

Finarfin wrapped his thought about his son’s once more, cradling him close as though they walked again along the twilit sea walls, with the tiny face tucked and slumbering against his neck. Then he lifted his head and laughed into the shadow, and once more in the dark he began to sing—aloud now, his voice rasping out the melody of defiance.

“Come forth, O monstrous craven lord, And fight with thine own hand and sword. I wait thee here. Come! Show thy face!” [4]

Then the strike fell and he knew no more.

1. Laman: [Quenya] tame beast 2. Söa: [Quenya] filth; Ustation: [Quenya] misappropriate, supplant, usurp (the son of) 3. A Hymn to Elbereth, in the Tongue of Valinor 4. The Lay of Leithian, Canto XII, Fingolfin and Morgoth

All credit to @that-angry-noldo and @actual-bill-potts for spawning this au that somehow contains both Orodreth and Finarfin in Angband.

RIP, boys, you're their favorites and consequently they've sent you to literal hell.

[diagonal-queen]

I LOVE YOU AND I WILL LOVE YOU TILL THE END OF MY BREATHING DAYS OKAYY ID CUDDLE YOU IF I COULD BUT FUCK LIFE COS I CANT POOKIE ONE DAY I SWEAR ON ASTARION’S SILVER FUCKIN HAIR THAT ILL GIVE YOU THE BIGGEST FUCKING HUG TO EVER EXIST AND WE’LL HAVE A DAY OUT!!!

-your anon pookie🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🖤🩶🤍🤎❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹❣️💕💕💓💞💗💖💘💝

holy shit onh my god 💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞I WANNA CUDDLE YOU TOO I JUST WANNA SEE YOU AND KISS YOU AND CUDDLE YOU AND GO ON. THE MOST EXTRAVAGANT FLUFFY NEVERENDING DATE THE WORLD HAS EVER KNOWN

have a soft homo memeboard

hehe

♡︵(ゝ。∂) I LOVE YOU <3

[blueberryjam1201]

Unexpected

Chapter 3

Genre: romance, comedy

Warning: many facts were changed for story development purposes

Finally, in the next chapter, I'm starting the main story. I hope you will enjoy this chapter as I had a lot of fun writing it ❤️

"Your hand was always near mine,

I could grab it anytime...

...ah...

The sand,

Collapsing under our wet steps,

The long empty street...

....we didn't care about hurting our feet while running barefoot...

The taste of this drink was different with you,

I could drink from your lips until I fell...

Because I was certain you would be there...

Next to me in the morning..."

Chapter 3 under the cut👇🏻

KyungSoo's house was placed in a district of single-family houses, with the main street at the end and a street full of pubs just next door. Further down was a big beach embraced by the woods from the back side of the lake.

His home was fenced off by a tall stone fence in a marble color, with a black gate looking like a dungeon entrance. It wasn't his choice, he probably would have chosen a different shape, but the fence was already here when he bought this house.

Inside, nicely cut grass was on every inch of the ground and the tall trees were separating his household space from other houses creating fence extensions. The medium-sized two-story house was in melancholic azure color with dark roofs.

Behind the wooden doors, placed in the middle of the house, painted in a navy color was a small anteroom, not separated from the sitting room by doors, just an open entrance leading straight to the kitchen which was together with the dining room and on the right side the sitting room behind the long bifold doors.

- KyungSoo-yah! - YiSeuls' voice could be heard from the kitchen - Baboo, there is a festival today, are we going? - she called him Baboo like the little monkey from a cartoon for kids.

How time flies?

It's already been a year after the unexpected one-off night. This unpredictable plot twist turned out to be a blessing for both of them. After they came back from a work trip, they've been meeting almost every day. KyungSoo was a frequent guest in YiSeul's house. He meet her mother who was delighted by his presence.

- Take care of this precious boy! - mother always repeated when he came by. It looks like, even if her body couldn't do much due to sickness when he came she was receiving an unlimited energy boost so he was always receiving all kinds of different sweets, dishes, and hot drinks. She was always by his side, but he didn't mind. He was happy to be accepted by her.

Due to his job colors, he had to work many hours and go on a work trips often. YiSeul was always waiting for him with prepared dinner and snacks. They loved going to their favorite pub, just next door street from KyungSoo's house.

She was sitting now on a bar chair next to the kitchen island and looking at her phone.

The island and the kitchen shelves and worktops were in navy color, fridge and cooker in silver. The rest of the walls in this room were white. The flooring was limestone grey tiles. On the right side, under the bifold doors was lying a grey carpet, just a little darker than the tiles' color.

YiSeul's dark brown hair was tied in a top knot. She was wearing a black undershirt and light blue denim shorts.

- What time? - KyungSoo shouted from the sitting room.

- It says, the festival starts at 8 pm but all the tills and stands are open from 6 pm. It's past 5 pm -

Suddenly, KyungSoo appeared at the bifold doors. His hair was cut in short French crop, the top was just slightly longer than the sides. He was wearing a white t-shirt and pickle green loose shorts.

- I finished, so we can go if you're ready - said proudly showing his perfectly white, wide smile.

- Who's first in the toilet...? - she threw down the challenge and after a second of silence both started to run towards the stairs in the kitchen's far right corner.

Sun was living it's best in the blue sky. The significant advantage in early autumn is that the summer feeling can be still there, despite the chilly wind and short days.

An unexpected couple was heading down the road together along with crowds of other people.

KyungSoo wore a black beanie, black and white plaid shirt, and white undershirt, together with light, loose jeans and dark sneakers. YiSeul wore a long loose black summer dress and plaid shirt in shades of brown and the same sneakers as her partner.

Soon they reached the entrance of the party. Stands were selling postcards with lake pictures or others connected to this place and festival attractions.

On the beach, except for overwhelming crowds, they could find bars and stands placed on wooden flooring. Just further down on the right, a huge scene was standing with all the preparations for performance later in progress.

They came near to one of the bar counters.

- Baboo, do you want a beer? - YiSeul asked while grabbing his hand tightly, so he would understand this question was rhetorical.

- I'll just take one bottle of coke please- he said to the barman at the counter

- What? You can drink one beer today! Work is done and tomorrow off - she jumped up and down while holding his hand

- Ok, let it be one then - he changed his mind for her. In reality, he didn't plan to drink it at all but didn't want to make her upset. - Two same please- finished placing the order and looked at her with a smirk - happy now? -

- I am happy, let's have fun today! You are working too much lately, I'm feeling like I don't have you anymore - she made a a facial expression of hopeless sadness, the one baby is doing before crying. That made KyungSoo laugh just before he grabbed their ready-to-drink beer.

In the next hour, the sun has settled down. They've been walking around, enjoying their time. In the meantime, KyungSoo was pretending to drink the beer but secretly poured it out here and there. It wasn't that he didn't want to have fun, just he didn't feel like drinking now. His mind was too much absorbed by the events around him, the people, the lights, and how nice would be to sit in his favorite pub's bar chair and just enjoy the time without too much noise and constant pushing through the crowd.

- Baboo - YiSeul woke him up from his thoughts suddenly - look, the concert is starting - and pointed at the scene where the powerful neons were lighting most of the beach. They came near the stage, barely pushed through the crowd but hopefully made it. KyungSoo was just standing focused. YiSeul was jumping while a three-person group was playing their folk music. Then one actress has done the stand-up skit. Then another rock band. KyungSoo was standing still, not making any effort to enjoy the show. Instead, he was carefully analyzing all the sound effects, equipment quality as well as lyrics and background details. YiSeul looked at him, the irritation was slightly visible on her face. She grabbed his hand and pushed him through the crowd's end, which was just at the shore of the lake. He stiffed in place, not knowing what her behaviour meant. Will she start reproaching him or she just doesn't want to be there anymore? She looked deep into his eyes in silence, the atmosphere was heavy.

- ..What? - he asked when she moved slowly on his right side while still gazing at him with a suspicious look....

-Wha..woow!- she pushed him straight into the lake! He fell splashing the water all around, sat and from his gaze, you could hear many swearing words even if he was completely speechless. Suddenly, he jumped up grabbed her hand, and dragged her to the water together with him

- You won't get away with this! -

The shore of the lake has shallow water so they've been lying flat and laughing. Soaked wet. He suddenly crouched down and started splashing the water on her, she stood up to fight back. Their laugh was spread across the beach and even the main concert couldn't drown it out completely. At some point, when they stood up Kyungsoo grabbed her wrists, pressed his chest against her, and made her move backward slowly to the dry part of the shore. She then released her hand, grabbed his back, and tripped him, but unfortunately, they fell over together on...

None of them expected that someone would be passing by at that second. They flew into the woman who was just walking by with a man who seemed like her husband. Both of them were looking wealthy. That woman jumped back on time, but they still hit her slightly leaving her wet and dirty from sand traces on her long pink coloured dress and flowers painted at the bottom.

- Are you out of your mind?! - she shouted when they picked themselves up from the ground. Her husband took a step forward:

- Look what you've done! This is unacceptable! You almost hurt her?!- he shouted in range. KyungSoo clammed up for a long second, then when he opened his mouth to apologize...

YiSeul grabbed his hand and pushed to the crowd to run away. The husband was still shouting, but they didn't understand the words anymore. Just run, and run ahead. While running they took off their soaked wet shoes, dirtied in sand. They laugh while running and holding their hands.

"WOW!" KyungSoo yelled with his head raised high. She was laughing loudly, it was more difficult to run when her back was bending from laughing, but KyungSoo held her hand so she wouldn't stop.

They had reached KyungSoo's beloved pub, "Inferno". The name had nothing to do with the decor of this place or the menu served. Blue and purple color neons were hung above the old, wooden doors. The glass walls were covering the whole wall belonging to this pub, including the fully glazed doors.

They walked in looking like two typhoon survivors. Inside, the dark brown wood flooring was covering each piece of the floor. The walls were painted in yellow. there were not many tables, two on the right, and three on the left arranged in a rows under the wall. The toilets were at the right corner behind the bar, and from the left to the middle was the counter and a few bar chairs under. Both the doors and the counter were in seaweed colour, something between brown and green. Some could say it's a green shade, the others it's brown, all depends on the person's view perception.

- You're definitely not sitting on my chair wearing these clothes! - The female voice just objected. KyungSoo after his eyes found the source of this voice smiled and waved his hand in a greeting manner.

- Sarah, two beers for us please -

- Hi Sarah! - YiSeul waved a hand too and turned to KyungSoo- Baboo, maybe whisky? -

He nodded his head in agreement while placing his hand on her arm and bringing her closer to him.

- Make it two whisky shots then -

The woman behind the bar was a tall woman with her black hair tied up in a top knot. The printed headband was covering her forehead. Cat eyes make-up and red full lips were giving an exotic vibe and doubling her currently annoyed facial expression. She wore just a black sleeveless tank top and leggings. She was giving them stink eyes while polishing the beer pints.

- To the toilet, both of you - she grabbed the tumblers for whisky and turned around to open the cabinet filled with all kinds of alcohol bottles.

The runaway couple came back after generally sprucing themselves up and sat down on the first bar chairs.

"...Creams Yura became a hot topic lately, after being spotted with a man in public..." KyungSoo looked at the TV hanging in the center of the right side wall. This news made him smirk a little.

- What? Are you laughing? - YiSeul grabbed his arm to catch his attention

- That's not my problem anymore, never was really, but it's funny how media works -

- Who's producing them now? - she asked while raising the glass to have a first sip. KyungSoo was holding the glass but felt the need to continue the topic.

- The one who was recruited by Kim some time ago. But I don't mind, Creams we're difficult after debut - and smiled at her like he's happy it's over.

- How's Yeolie doing after the promotion? -

- Oh, Chanyeol's doing fine, he always was. Living his life now as an unbridled producer, I guess this work suits him better -

- And your new band? Have you had a general meeting today? -

- Yes - he paused to smile widely as something enjoyable happened.

- Shocking. You're making this face like you had the time of your life but not telling what was it, I need details! - she pushed him slightly to show her demand.

- There's not much for now. It's a four-person boy group, two rappers and two singers. Management decided to push them overseas so there are many plans for that in mind -

- How are they called? -

-...Tempo - the sudden silence was broken by a loud laughter bouncing off the walls.

- But...Why?- YiSeul couldn't believe it

- I gave them a few ideas but apparently the name was already chosen by Kim, and it's about the genre. They'll be a hip-hop group. Of course, it makes sense, but...- and he laughed again, just this time he controlled the volume a little lower. Suddenly he leaned down and start whispering into her ear:

- I will finally use my few old records, they'll be perfect for them... -

- Ok, why are you whispering? - she played along and whispered

- Because no one can hear this, it's a secret - he pressed the pointing finger to his lips and smirked while looking deeply into her eyes. She turned her head to do the same. They'd been looking at each other for a longer few seconds, and then suddenly she kissed him. Just a quick peck on his lips, and again they looked at each other. He done the same. Their smiling faces resembled the ones that children have before experiencing something for the first time, fascination? Maybe. Excitement? Also possible. Suddenly she grabbed his face and they drowned in a long fulfilling kiss like they couldn't hold back anymore...

- That is disgusting - Sarah's voice suddenly crushed the atmosphere. They raised their heads in a rush, she was here all the time!

Sarah was leaning on the counter with her phone in hand. She wasn't disgusted, and to be honest she was enjoying the show very much. Seeing her amused face was very rare so they both started laughing from awkwardness, YiSeul covered her embarrassed face with her hands but still burst into laughter...

Time went by and after drinking more than one whisky shot, mostly sponsored by the entertained barmaid, the unexpected couple decided to finally go back home...

The front doors of KyungSoo's home opened, and they entered the kitchen. Walking slowly, taking off their shoes and clothes, throwing them under their feet while facing each other. Their bodies were like a photo magnet from holidays, bought for a few pence on the beach's souvenir stand, stuck to each other like those magnets to the refrigerator,and rubbing the tips of their shoes while moving. Kyungsoo was the one walking backwards. When entering the sitting room he grabbed the stereo system controller from the coffee table in the middle of the room and took a quick glance at which bottom to press. The radio was on. Their moves were supposed to remind the dance, but touch was the main goal so smooth spinning in circles was the best name for this choreography.

- Not complaining anymore, eh? - she said while showing a flirty smile.

- Never...- and he bowed his head slowly. Suddenly the time had stopped and every tiny sound disappeared. There was no outside world, only this room. His mind was stripped of all the thoughts and replaced by her...by her lips. Leaning his head to the side and slightly opening his lips. His heart rumbled very loud, he wished to silence it for a second...just a second would be enough...

The left hand was pressing her back to pull closer, as close as it was possible. Like she would run away...

The interlocked fingers in connected right hands couldn't decide how was more comfortable, bended or stretched.

She closed her eyes, waiting for the final blow of euphoria which was already rooted in her trembling bones from top to bottom of her body. He pressed gently his lips...

* buzz buzz* The vibrating phone in KyungSoo's pants has detonated the grand moment, shattering the passion all over the room walls. He jumped one step back but after seeing the anger on her face returned to his place like an obedient child and answered the phone:

- Chanyeol....- almost whispered with a resentful tone but it's not in his personality to cause a quarrel when Chanyeol wasn't even here and aware of what moment he just exterminated.

- KyungSoo-yah!- and laughed without reason- you alright? How's it going? -

Kyungsoo was suppressing his anger:

- Fine, was at the festival today with YiSeul -

She then started to dance gently with her fingers under his left ear going down the neck

- Oh, good boy, I wish I would say the same but May is recording for the next few days so I'm kind of lonely like Akon *ha ha ha*- he busted out of laugh from his own joke, while KyungSoo's mind was wondering somewhere in his girlfriend's eyes. - so, mate, pack your bags, and say sorry to your missus. We're going to Gwangju tomorrow! -

- What? What for? -

He raised his voice but YiSeul held his head in her both hands while pressing gently her right hand pointing finger to his lips to settle him down. Then she stroked his lips quietly by hers. His eyes suddenly regained the glow.

- Listen carefully ok? JJ Entertainment is doing a large-scale event for the 14th birthday. All stars must be there, including Tempo. They'll have a pre-debut show. Also, Kim needs help with Creams...I know right? But you've been there already so you'll be fine. Imagine.. - he laughed before starting the sentence. Kyungsoo wasn't paying attention, was holding the phone a little further from his ear and enjoying the teasing moment with his girlfriend. She peck-kissed him here and there...

- Imagine Kim already needs your help after taking this family guy. I don't care really, but I bet he is crying now.

Right, KyungSoo-yah I need to go, May is calling.Tomorrow.Ill.send.you.the.details.asap.byeeee - last few words he said in supersonic speed and hung up after barely finishing the sentence.

An unexpected couple was having another "look me. in the eye" challenge in silence. Suddenly "Who's first upstairs!" Yiseul shouted and they ran upstairs while taking off and throwing their clothes under their feet. Kyungsoo made it to the top of the stairs first but he waited on her for some reason. When she reached his point, she pushed him and jumped into the room which was just on the right corner. She then took off her pants and he jumped to the room dragging her with him to the bed. They looked at each other and laughed. While being on top of her He gently took off her bra strap and leaned over to kiss her peach-colour stripped skin. She grabbed the white-brown line pattern duvet lying under them. Then Kyungsoo grabbed another side of it, and they disappeared under...

...in this small room with one double bed and slopped ceiling above it where all walls are in russet color.

- Sir Tae Woo! -

In the daytime, just in what looks like the city centre, a man's troubled voice has been heard. The main road was wide and across the streets, you could find all kinds of shops and office buildings. The ones touching the sky, glazed and modern. Also the two-story old buildings with restaurants, corner shops, and other essential stores. Crowds walked by, it was probably sometime in the afternoon.

- Sir! - the middle-aged, black-haired man who was definitely an office worker judging by his clothes, finally found the "Sir" he was looking for. He stopped and banded down breathing heavily, his chubby weight could explain his lack of physical condition. The man who he was looking for was standing focused with his head raised high. Tall, short haircut looked like he just come back from the military. His facial features were not particularly characteristic. Sharp bones, long V-shaped face. Eyes were reminding jokingly cat on stand-by, long on the outer side and round like a coin on the inner side. Long nose and average shaped lips. He wore a suit in a light shade of grey and a white suit shirt under. The office worker started his report:

- The stock has gone up! And compared to the forecast we are -3.4% behind. That can be fixed but Lyon company said they are considering cancelation, that woul...-

- Shush...- whispered Tae Woo while looking fascinated at the other side of the street.

- You can tell me when we will get back to the office-

- But sir! - the terrified employer clenched his hands into the fist. What is more important than this?

Tae Woo smirked.

YiSeul walked on the other side of the street with two shopping bags and headphones in her ears.

- Interesting...- he whispered.

Have you had fun in the last few years?

...YiSeul...

[apollo-gate]

My MC to Naamah : You don't need to be all powerful or have any powers to be loved by me, beloved. I will forever be yours, as will you be mine ❤️🥹.

Also side note, what does Naamah look like?

Naamah's eyes widen at the statement. Her eyes brim with tears. "Mc. If I don't have this power I would be just a." Naamah stops at the final words. "Ok." the word comes out as a mumble. Naamah will pull you into a hug and be trembling. "I don't want to lose you."

Naamah's true appearance won't be shown till you are cemented in the relationship.

But what she looks like or favors is a tall height (6.0) with a very delicate build.

Now hair. She prefers her hair to her mid back or just below her shoulders, but will grow it to her hip. Her roots are ice white and the ends are also ice-white. Her natural hair color is silky black.

Eyes are golden to a silver grey.

Her hands are dainty but claw-like at the ends. Wears a pendant around her neck.

The clothing is a black leather jacket with a crop top (boob window top). Goes from skirts to skinny jeans. shoes are either sneakers or heels.

[zorkaya-moved]

❛  let  him  go ,  it’s  not  worth  it .  ❜ > late but :))) Beatrice ❤️

@wonderloste

The succubus’ voice sounds beautiful to those who hear it, but the charm has never been an ability to capture the ever-cold heart of winter ‘till it came from the place of a warm heart. Valentin was the only one who was able to warm her heart, to welcome the spring without the drowning of the Morana’s doll, there was no sharpness and no harshness to his touch. Her beloved was a King in both title and in his heart, she heard from others how he changed over the course of centuries; she doesn’t believe her change will ever come for she did not harbor hatred nor love for this land. What is the opposite emotion of love? It wasn’t hatred; it was indifference. Her heart only cried for the loss of her heart and her sunshine, warmth would no longer exist within her. Her home from her world is gone from reach, her home here will never wake up; there is no way to go, there is only stagnation. She no longer has a place to return and to belong to. It was the nightmare she never wished to encounter, the moment of despair and the moment of loss.

If only Beatrice didn’t say anything, her end might’ve been less cruel. As if.

Does she even need to spare any time for this woman? Less than dirt under her boots, Zarina remains silent as she places one last kiss on Valentin’s forehead. A silent farewell.

The silence doesn’t last long.

The sound flesh being pierced with a sharp object is heard from behind, the blood splatter taints her silver hair. Zarina is silent as she knows exactly what is going on. She doesn’t need to turn around to know that one of the ice spears created behind Beatrice has pierced her shoulder in less than a blink of an eye. Does she wish to start a monologue? How pitiful. Sokolova lets the ice embrace everything, with a sigh out the ground beneath her was covered in frost and ice, she can hear the demon jumping away, dragging the icy spear out, but forgetting that it continues to spread the frost into her very bones and bloodstream. It’s already too late as the natural disaster could care less about what anyone tries to put in front of it. A disaster is called one for a reason.

The maiden of winter and death stands up after making sure the body of Romanov is carefully stored inside an ice coffin. It makes her think of the Snow White tale, but this sleeping beauty will never open his eyes ever again. His sunshine smile will not grace this land and bring spring, and then summer, into wonderland anymore. So why should anyone who allowed this to happen remain here? All of these people only relied on Valentin to save them, but now that he isn’t here? Ah, she can hear the soldiers whisper ‘Alice’ all around her. They have never seen anyone aside from ‘Alice.’ Only Valentin and Darcy have called her by her name, only they have seen her as who she is and they would have remained the only two saved if such were to come when Valentin was alive. 

These Wonderlanders… As if they were worth more than a speck of dust from up the shelves, they are a sore to her eyes and she wants it to be quiet. Deathly quiet. They think she will become their savior who will protect them from Beatrice, it must be nice to have hope that someone will save them from this tyranny. They are weak, meaningless, faceless to her now. They’d look better as statues. Statues made of ice. But they continue to cheer, not understanding that they should’ve run for their lives as well. She can sense every single one of them, the frost covering the ground tells her exact numbers and she will be able to silence them all: with spikes, with needles, with frostbites.

Alice!

Alice!

Alice!

They are so noisy.

With a wave of her hand, Zarina silences them as well. The screams echo and it becomes even more troublesome; the looks of shock and surprise and betrayal are now present on everyone’s face, but it’s too late. Similarly to Vlad the Impaler, she brings his name up in the way how the white snowy ground is now colored in red, red, red. It happens too quickly, such is her mercy on them. The snow starts to fall from the skies, it gives her a wider range to understand how others move. Every snowflake is a weapon in the hands of an Ice Elemental of Natural Disaster, it could turn into anything in a blink of an eye.

They do, turning countless figures upon landing on the ground. She can hear Beatrice’s scream and her clawing at her arm that has turned into ice and continues to her shoulder. She almost looks beautiful like that, looking in shock, but Sokolova doesn’t pay attention to her as much as she places her hand on the head of one of the created ‘nightmares.’ Its eyes shine white, it hits the ground with its heavy tail, the empress of ice and snow will let them loose on those who is still alive. Immortals or not, they will be turned to ice and remain here, evermore.

“ Don’t let anyone escape, ” Zarina says in the midst of the screams as she sends the creatures of nightmares after those who are running away from the battlefield. Monsters, monsters, monsters… Humans. Everything is only limited to the imagination of the one who creates the warriors of ice. From animals to human figures to mythical creatures she got to see in books and in Wonderland. They feel nothing, they feel no pain and they only have one mission: to annihilate. The moment Wonderland lost King of Hearts, they’ve lost all hope. The moment the only chain holding back the beast was broken, all Hell broke loose. The frost will cover the Kingdom of Hearts, coloring it into white and red, drowning its frigid ground in scarlet liquid and tears of those who tried to go against their evident fate to be killed by the hands of the frigid apocalypse.

As the creatures of her ‘mercy’ would go off, Zarina finally brings her attention back to the one who started it all. Instead of letting her escape, she makes sure the ground has her frozen in place. The icy hands that appear from the snow tug at her hair and at her limbs, digging their nails into the flesh. As if magic will work here now. Sokolova can feel the ice climb to her own neck now (ready to suffocate the last remains of humanity), she breathes out steam and her eyes glow dangerously as she looks at Beatrice. 

Who is the monster now?

“ Let your life go, it’s not worth it. ” She says to her, tilting her head to the side. Apathetic, she is wholly and fully apathetic in her delivery. Monotone can rival that one of Jabberwocky, certainly. Zarina knows she must remain vigilant, but as the blood spills behind and in front and around, she is aware of everything that is happening all too well. How is the Queen of Hearts rendered to this in such a short period of time? No, it’s not short― for she is able to get out, but it’s all meaningless. She underestimated the current ‘Alice’ and Zarina isn’t one to let her prey escape, especially when it came to revenge. Their battle may become legendary, but there is no one to witness this legend.

Someone growls. Someone attacks. Someone avoids. Someone repels. Someone falls. Someone gets up. Someone, someone, someone.

There is no soul to tell the tale of how ‘Alice’ and Queen of Hearts fought. There is only blood, blood, and more blood.

… … …

The land of Hearts is silent aside from the gut-wrenching screams coming from one who had once ruled this land unfairly. The Queen of Hearts’s body is mangled, broken, but still alive. The tools made of ice float around her, covered in scarlet as Zarina sit on her self-created chair, putting her elbow on the armrest and watching the work done with surgical precision. Each cut, each sting, each hit. Is Beatrice missing teeth? Is she missing fingers and are those fingers missing nails? Are her limbs still attached? Is her eye present? Is she blind? Countless questions can be asked about the current state of the ‘Queen’ who has taken away the only important person in the elemental’s life.

Zarina can feel the ice taking away her humanity, it lingers at its last strings, but she cannot let herself yet give in to the mutation. There is still some things to be done, she cannot break down. But she notices, she’s been torturing Beatrice for hours on end without stopping, finding each and every way to let her live yet be unable to attack, to do anything but hopelessly cry and scream, but it will not bring back Valentin. It will not. But it continues. Beatrice’s screams continue, but nothing reaches Sokolova Zarina’s ears, she is absent-minded in receiving this: torture has never been something she enjoyed doing. This is nothing but retribution. For taking away what was hers.

Was she doing this for Valentin? She doesn’t know anymore. 

It was her own selfish desire, her own selfish wish to see this woman suffer as much as she could make her. When Beatrice begged, Zarina would give her a glimpse of hope before dropping yet another couple of drops of her own blood on the woman’s skin or into her wounds, bringing even more hellish screams out of her. After all, now Sokolova’s blood was at its strongest and most dangerous. Akin to liquid nitrogen, but so much stronger now. It must’ve been scary to watch this, the ashen haired maiden seemed bored with this showcase yet she continued with the same determination and attention to detail as always. Cruel, merciless, unforgiving, judging, bored. The boredom found its way into her heart, shutting away her emotions before she got up. She should find a way to kill this immortal but for now she’ll be continuously tortured for days and days, there will be days where she’ll catch a break to get some hope only for it be taken away: again, and again, and again. There will be no rest for the wicked.

As she gets up from her throne, it dissipates into snowflakes and then into nothingness. The Kingdom of Hearts cannot be recognized anymore. There are countless statues frozen in time, once soldiers and once allies/friends who Valentin brought to fight the one who was begging to be killed. Sokolova isn’t merciful and kind enough to let her get what she wants as she passes by, but the tools continue their work even without Zarina’s presence. Everything created from ice belongs to her and is controlled by her, never-ending and it will never stop. They are semi-sentient, they’ll remain doing what they were ordered until they are broken or let go. Such is the disastrous power of an Elemental, the ability to end the life of a planet. However, Sokolova has one last thing she wishes to do as she waves her hand again and lets the coffin with the body of her beloved float next to her as she walks down the roads towards the Castle of Hearts.

She doesn’t care for the furniture, for the design, for anything that is already dead.

Zarina passes the gates. The gardens. The halls. She enters the room with the throne that belongs to Valentin Romanov - the King of Heart. And then, the one who was called ‘Alice’ by everyone but two people opens the coffin and picks up the one who made everything before worth it, but no more. Carrying him bridal style, Zarina finally feels her iron will start to crack as each step forward and towards the throne makes her sob louder and her shoulders shake as she cannot feel any warmth within herself or in her hands. Her body up to her neck is ice and frost, almost transparent to eyes. But it doesn’t matter, what matters is that with each step her mind returns to the memories created with her heart, her soul, her king.

His smile. His laugh. His strength. His flaws. His strengths. His everything. 

From the moment they met to the point where they are right now. It all breaks the dam of her cold control, making her sob and weep for the one who had departed without even saying goodbye. Step after step, memory after memory that shatters into nothingness, and then when she is right in front of the throne that remained untouched, does Zarina apologize to Valentin once more before placing him on the throne, settling him down as he was supposed to be here. Instead of simply leaving, she reaches her hand up to his cheek, the skin slowly started to transform into ice itself as it did with all those statues outside. He will remain here, eternally, frozen in time but only his shell.

“ Прости меня, Валентин… Прости меня, ” Zarina’s voice breaks as she falls to her knees, covering her face and crying loudly. In this silent kingdom and in this empty room, only her sobs are heard and will be heard for the next hour.

Only until they become quiet and the woman feels her body become heavier. Only then she glances one last time at the frozen statue of the King of Hearts before walking out of the room, shutting the door behind and leaving her beloved’s face behind. Her steps echo in the empty halls, in the frozen gardens, in the abandoned halls. There is no rot anymore, only ice and snow.

And when she exists through the gates, the White Rabbit is there. As always. Ever present. Zarina meets his gaze and he will see the heartbreak, the pain, the despair. She who has never shown anything but confidence and strength now succumbed to the grief of loss, stumbling forward and almost falling down before him. She no longer looks like a human, not with the exposed skin looking ice, reflecting the light of the cold Sun. With her eyes glowing in golden and white, pupil changing into something else, not with fangs peaking out when she opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes but and she shuts her lips tight before passing by.

Wonderland will remain silent, frozen in time, but she could give less of a fuck about this land and its people. Her reason to live here disappeared, she will never bring it back and she will never find it again.

Only with time later does Zarina finally stop, she knows Darcy White follows every footstep without speaking out until it’s allowed. With a heavy heart does the woman sit down under another frozen tree, leaning against it with her back. Her golden eyes find the White Rabbit and she can feel the ice slowly start to leave her neck, but it’s too late. She knows sooner or later, the metamorphosis will find her, but she hopes it’ll kill her. She hopes this is the end, but for now, she’ll be here, watch the white and the silent.

“ I don’t feel anything. ” Zarina says, closing her eyes. “ Only void. ” No anger, no grief, no happiness; nothing. “ Only cold. ” Her lips tremble as she thinks of Romanov once again, it makes her heart ache despite the void and cold. He’s not here to fill the abyss and to warm the winter. He’s not here. He’s not going to be back. “ I hope they all died, every single last one of them. ”

So there will be no more Wonderland.

[imaginative-nerd]

✨A love story of a villain who was never actually a villain ❤️💚✨ Episode 4

✨A love story of a villain who was never actually a villain ❤️💚✨ Episode 4

Disclaimer - contains explicit content...not for below 18 years of age

It was really dark and chilly...you were slowly stepping down the stairs...they were made of black stones...it looked like a cave that was a passage to a dungeon.. while insuring not to fall in this pitch darkness ..you were also pondering on some thoughts..that why loki called you here in the middle of the night?? Why he couldn't wait untill dawn?? What was the reason behind this urgent invitation from the god of mischief??

You were too eager to meet him...specially after your rendezvous at the lake last night...all those unfulfilled desires were again rushing through your mind..

At last darkness started to fade away...some torches were burning up infront of a door...you knocked nervously..Loki opened the door...it was dark inside but some candles were lit up... Loki was wearing a white transparent poet's shirt with his usual black leather pants...his chiseled body was visible through his shirt...he was looking irresistible..

You - Loki what happened?? What was so important that you couldn't wait till morning??

He didn't say a word....he came closer to you...

Loki - (whispering in your ears) i couldn't resist.. after last night...i just ...i just want you right now...

Loki grabbed your waist and pulled you in...

You - Loki i...i...(panting)

Loki - shhhh....(putting a finger on your lips) you don't have to say a word...i know what you want...

Loki started sliding his finger slowly from your lips towards your neck...now you were shivering...it wasn't the cold...it was him..

Loki - ready for a sizzling night?

You smiled and cupped his face in your hands...brushing his cheeks gently with your thumbs...Your eyes were now on his lips...finally he leaned in and gave you a kiss...it was just a peckle...he stopped for a moment..

You - stop the tease now..!!

he gave a kiss on your forehead..you looked into his eyes..they were filled with passion..he leaned in again...he started soflty... brushing your lips smoothly...you pulled yourself back.. teasing him...he grabbed you again ..with a stronger hold this time... he started kissing you wildly.. his tongue was tracing yours... he was now biting your lips...it started to bleed..

You - lokiiii..!!(groaning)

Loki - sorry i was lost in the spur of the moment

You - shhhhhh....just continue!

He kissed you again..you started kissing his face tracing the outline of his sharp cheekbones...Gradually he moved down to your neck kissing every inch of your skin..soft moans were coming out of your mouth...his hold was getting tighter with every second...he started unfastening the laces of your gown..you untied his shirt's collar and took off his shirt in a wildly manner...there was couch in the corner of this dungeon(or it was a room?? you weren't sure)...loki picked you up wrapping his hands around your waist while gliding his wet tongue around your chest..you wrapped your hands around his neck and you moaned in a delightful manner...he took you to the couch...he threw you first on that couch and then himself like a hungry animal would jump on his food...his hands were now clawing your back so hard ... you were worried that it would bleed ...but you were not ready to hinder this pleasure for some stupid scratches or some blood...you were enjoying every moment of it..you were running your hands on his and then his hair...his skin was so soft like butter....he removed your gown...loki approached your lips and started kissing you again...your bare chest was rubbing against his...

His one hand was now gliding down and the other one was in your hair...his hand was working in magical circular motions...it was like he was ringing your devil's doorbell....he got down...his hand motions were nothing compared to his tongue's...no doubt people called him silver tongued... simultaneously you were brushing your hands through his hair softly...when you were about to reach your climax you stopped him...now it was your turn to please the god...you started unbuttoning his pants...you couldn't wait anymore...you took the charge in your hands...his eyes rolled up in pleasure... now your candycane licking habit was coming handy...loki couldn't resist from moaning for much longer....

Loki - now come here up to me...(panting)

He took your hand and pulled you up...you mounted his lap... you were know feeling the heat of his bare skin...now he was inside you...you threw your head back moaning so loud that even the demons below in hell could listen it clearly...his force showed you for the first time how it is felt to be with a man... your act was now coming to its climax...you didn't want this to end... but it was now out of your control...your legs were shaking...his hands were trembling...you both cried out a loud yell as you both reached your pinnacle..!!

_

You woke up covered in sweat, out of breath and panic striken....you got out of your bed and took a sip of water... You were now completely baffled about your steamy dream of the trickster god...your heartbeat was racing like a horse...you were trembling...you didn't know what to do...

You stepped out of your room in your robe to have some fresh air... With an indecisive mind...you weren't sure which way to head...every thing seemed kind of blurry...then trying to control your head you started heading towards the garden...some greenery was the best option you had at that moment...you were sprinting in the hallway...you were almost there but you stopped suddenly...you ran towards a pillar to hide yourself... because there he was.. polishing his sword skills... swaying his sword in the middle of the garden like a true warrior...he was wearing his usual leather pants and nothing on the top except his helmet...his perfectly carved body dripping with sweat was shining brightly as morning sunlight was touching him with grace. This scene made you remember every kiss..every touch that you felt in your dream...it seemed so freaking real.. it was becoming hard to resist now...your desire for him was increasing every single second...you wanted to go back to earth..as this unfulfilled desire was killing you and the thought that it might never happen was your biggest fear right now...you were least interested in this ravishing life..you just wanted to love him...care for him...

You - (blabbering alone) but why would he be with me? He is a god...and who am i ?? No one!!

You were so lost into him that you didn't even realise that elliot was standing right beside you...

Elliot - Good morning....ready for your breakfast my lady?

You - (startled) huh?????

Elliot - i am sorry...did i scare you?

You - no ...no i am good..i was just getting some fresh air....and yes please...i am hungry since last night..

Elliot - why?? (confused) you didn't like the food there at the feast ??

You - no .. no...it looked yummy enough...but i got busy in something else...its a long story

Elliot - alright..i'll inform loki that you'll be joining him soon for the breakfast.

You - (in astonishing voice) loki???...huh? Why him? Why would you inform him??

Elliot - i am so sorry my lady...i completely forgot to tell you....he came earlier this morning to your quarters...he was asking for you...but you were still asleep...so he asked me to inform you about a little plan he made for breakfast.

You didn't wanted to face him right now after your steamy dream...but you were also eager to meet him..

You - alright...tell him i'll be there in 10 minutes..(with a stutter)

Elliot - ohh ..he is right there in the garden...i'll let him know right now.

You - No wait...wait untill i am gone...

Elliot - as you say my lady

You left hurriedly... sprinting towards your room...as soon as you reached...you started getting ready for the breakfast...you wanted to look pretty today...you never cared much about your looks before...but today the adrenaline was rushing through your veins...you wanted to look prettiest amongst these asgardians.

[endlich-allein]

Bestrafe Mich 😈 (Odjazdy Festival, Poland, 22-11-1997) © Marta Błażejowska

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Being completely honest those stories are the Best R+ ones I managaed to find on the entire internet! Huge thanks for them cause I have had a great fucking time I absolutely adore them! I cannot wait to see more cause it is fire!! Maybe a threesome with Till and Richard ya know a fangirl dream come true, when they are still pretty new to the music industry I am aiming for the late 90 I love their Silver hair look from the time.

Hi and thanks for the feedback! I'm so glad you enjoyed them 😊 I haven't written anything for R+ in a long time now, but if I ever revisit them I am definitely keeping your suggestion in mind! ❤️

[brothersgrim]

𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

[ 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐍 ] My muse cuddles up in bed to yours

@teardownheaven​ asked:

[ 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐍 ] @taker ❤️

He runs his hand down his face and stares at his reflection in the mirror. Turns his head this way and that. He’s not entirely sure what he’s looking for. No bruises, but he hasn’t been fighting today. No out-of-place stubble, but he’d shaved this morning. No dirt, but he’d just washed his face. He grabbed the comb from the counter, dragged it through his hair a few times. The comb returned to its place with a dull click and he shook his hair out again (probably undoing all the work he’d just done, but, whatever). He turns out of the en suite, adjusting the collar of his sleep shirt and doing up the final two buttons.

It’d be cold tonight.

He flicked the light switch in the en suite behind him. Even as dark as it was, the moon that filtered in through the window over the bed made it easy to see. Everything was painted in silver. He moved to the bed, glanced down at the work boots set beside the nightstand. They were starting to gather dust. He’d have to polish them tomorrow morning. Or now-- No, no. He had to be up early tomorrow. Bywater Memorial.

At least they paid extra.

He sighs again and sits down on the edge of the bed. Scratches at his chin. He rolls his shoulders, stretches his arms over his head, then lies down and tugs the blankets over himself, for as much good as they’ll do.

He lets his eyes close. He’s not sleeping so much as he is resting. He can’t force it; he knows better than that. He figures it will come on its own. ... Or it won’t.

Not up to him.

He thought he was just drifting off when he heard the familiar creak of the glass door sliding open. He sat up with his brow furrowed. He wasn’t expecting anyone,  and it was both too early and too late for Jon to show up at night. Halphas wasn’t barking, though, so...

Footsteps on the stairs.

... The Undertaker relaxed. He knew those footsteps. He lies back down, re-adjusts the sheets, closes his eyes again. He knows exactly who that is.

That’s why he’s not surprised when the door opened and shut softly. Nor is he surprised when the mattress behind him dips, the sheets rustle, and strong arms wrap around him.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He mumbles as Ael’s lips brush against the back of his neck.

“No.” Ael mumbles. “Didn’t wake you, did I, Strawberry?”

“No.” ‘Taker shakes his head without sitting up or opening his eyes. His hand finds Ael’s and covers it. “It’s fine.” Ael hums and slots in closer, pressing one last kiss to the nape of Taker’s neck. He’s warm, solid, smells like home cooking and fresh linens and fresh-tilled earth. His warm breaths stir Taker’s hair just a bit. and his hand finds its spot over the deadman’s newly-beating heart.

Taker figured he’d have no problem sleeping anymore.

[thewollfgang]

Wolfy!!! I'm so glad you opened up prompts again! If you're feeling up to it I'd love to see what kind of magic you work with #11 and any Lucifer pairing! ❤️

there was a LOT of requests for 11 with various pairings. I’m going to do deckerstar with this one (i’m gonna try and fill the other asks for 11, though!)

11. “No, you don’t get a choice.”

Lucifer explains to Chloe - words faltering and raw, staring down at his hands as he sits on her couch in her apartment - his history. He’s unable to look at her as he details the circumstances of his life in the Silver City. What led to his Fall, what had happened with his Father, what He had done.

What Hell was like for him. An unending, unwarranted punishment. 

He’s spoken about it with Linda, bits here and there over various sessions before he finally worked up the courage to say it. Aloud. She’d helped him understand it through a new perspective.

It has been a revelation. Humans have words for it. In this area the Celestial Tongue falls short. Things like negligence and poly-victimisation and alienation. They have ways of categorizing events that have no place in the language of his birth. Prolonged Trauma. Cognitive consequences. 

He’d asked Chloe to not interrupt him, too afraid that he wouldn’t be able to get through it all if he paused. She doesn’t, even when his words halt and fall into ragged breathing. She waits, soundlessly, till he swallows and continues. 

He speaks about grief. About the shame and the guilt and vacillating between blaming himself and blaming his father.

He explains the after effects, how it can bring about irritability, anger, violence. He tells her how it dogs him in his sleep, makes him wake up with a scream lodged in his throat. How he can’t stay in bed with her sometimes, terrified of hurting her in the throes of a nightmare.

Sometimes the only thing that helps is getting up and patrolling. He talks about how he’d pace the edges of his palace in Hell, guarding the walls. That walking the perimeter of her apartment, or Lux, can quiet the fear at the back of his mind. 

He painfully goes through his progress with Linda, how he’s trying to get better, trying to heal - for himself and for her. That telling Chloe all of this is a part of the process. He hopes she can understand, hopes she can be patient with him, that he’s trying, learning how to manage the effects. Then, finally, voice hoarse, he’s done. 

He raises his head to meet her eyes and finds her staring back, cheeks wet with tear tracks. He waits for her reaction, a man braced for damnation. 

Her words are spoken like a threat. “You are going to lay there, Lucifer Morningstar, and let me cuddle you.” 

He’s taken aback. “Do I have a choice in the matter?”

“No, you don’t get a choice.” Then something like apprehension flickers over her face. “Unless - Unless, you really don’t want to. I shouldn’t have - I’m sorry - it’s just -” 

Lucifer lifts up his arm, opening a space for her, avoiding her gaze. It’s only to stop her continuous prattling, really. Her rambling halts, and despite her dire words, she approaches him hesitantly.

“Well, come on, then,” Lucifer prompts, with mock irritation. “Don’t be shy now.”

He leans back against the arm of the couch as she settles against him. There’s a moment of awkward fumbling as they arrange their legs comfortably, half tangled up. She rests her head on his chest, hair tickling at his nose and she slides her arms around him, squeezing him tight. She relents only when she extracts a wheeze from his lungs. He gazes down at her as best he can, meets her blue eyes that have gone ocean dark with seriousness. 

“Yes?” he prompts.

“I just want you to know that I respect your need for space.” Her grave tone is back. 

He huffs a little, upsetting a few flyaway strands of her hair. “Clearly.” His glib response only seems to concern her greater, so he switches to honesty. “I know. I know you do. If I should have need of it, I will inform you.”

“So…this is okay?” she asks. 

He tightens his grip on her. “Yes. More than.”

“Thank you for telling me, even though it was difficult.” She presses a kiss to his chest, warm through the material of his shirt. “I love you,” she says. “So much.” 

He gathers her closer, inhales her clean sent, lets her warmth soak into him. “And I, you,” he replies.

[endlich-allein]

Till 💦 (Zillo Festival, Germany, 16-08-1998)

📸 credit to Kerstin Müller

[endlich-allein]

Till ❤️ (Big Day Out Festival, Australia, 26-01-2001) © Julie Wiskirchen

[endlich-allein]

Till ❤️ (Buenos Aires, Argentina, 10-04-1999)

📸 credit to David Adlermann