#the tree's name is mother of orb horse

[spookypete-94]

Dark Horse- Breath

PriceXFem!reader

Start of a mini series. Reader is a single mother, working double shifts at a restaurant. Father of the child starts to become a problem while reader is at work and Price offers a solution. Non-con mentioned but not described. Slight age gap between reader around 25 and Price around 35.

Hard work was never something that had bothered you. Entering the work force at the ripe age of 14, you had learned many things the hard way. Like how what you thought was your "Highschool Sweetheart" was the love of your life.. Until he took advantage of you, in a time where you had too much to drink at a graduation celebration caused by him egging you on. Ultimately, the cost of his choice forcing you to become pregnant. You did not know how ever, that you were carrying his child when you broke it off with him, upset he had pulled such a stunt on you. Again, learning the hard way- you became forever tied to him, but would never settle with him.

Even for such a hardship to happen at a young age, you were blessed with the best gift. A piece of you. The entire pregnancy, you prepared yourself for the baby to come out like your ex. A reminder of what happened to you, but would care for nonetheless. But to your surprise, your baby boy came out with your color hair and orbs that matched your own. Literally the apple from your tree which quickly became the center of your eye.

Naming him Abel, meaning breath. He would be your fresh air. A man you would try to raise better for this world.

Locking the door behind you, you turned down to look at your little one. He was always so bright eyed and bushy tailed in the morning, donning his school backpack.

"We got everything?"

"Yup." Abel said popping the p, reaching for your hand to hold it as you walked him to his school. He rather liked school for his age, making friends with ease. Watching as he skipped next to you, and listening to what he thought was going to happen at school today. These moments were what you loved most, feeling truly connected with Abel.

Infront of the school doors, kneeling down to speak with him face to face and fiddle with his jacket.

"Dad will pick you up today." You said smoothing his hair.

"Oh.." Abel said quietly. Abel knew how hard having split custody with his dad was for you. Your ex may be terrible to you, but he was a good father to Abel. Making getting full custody of Abel hard and the fact due to your funds coming from a restaurant. Of course the boy who took advantage of you turned into a man that became successful. Many times he would bait you ,"If you just came back to me." A smug smirk on his face almost telling you he'd knew you would come running back. Instead, you planted firmly, took root and grew. Getting a job at a local restaurant and quickly becoming it's best worker. Making enough to make ends meet, living pay check to pay check but still taking care of your son.

"It'll be alright momma, I'll see you later tonight." His arms coming around his neck and pulling you into him. Nearly teetering on falling over, but instead pulling him into you closer to lean on him. A perfect explanation of your relationship with Abel.

Watching him run into school you waited for him to slip inside, and walked to work. Hoping for a busy day to help with distraction making it go quick until you can see Abel again.

It for sure started off with a bang, like someone had fired a starter gun. Table after table, coffee turning into soda signifying the change from breakfast into lunch. Answering the phone of what you thought was going to be a to go order. was actually a phone call from your son's school. He had forgot his lunch. Thinking about how you had locked the door after asking, but then realizing his lunch box was on the counter still at home. Sighing, feeling further rushed, your boss Kate, could tell something was off and you explained what had happened.

"Well take him lunch," she said matter-of-factly like she couldn't understand why you were so stressed about it. "I got your tables for now." You were quick about it, asking your line cook for a cheeseburger and fry explaining the situation. Thankfully just pulling one he had just started for a customer and giving it you, you rushed out the front door.

Sudden surprise struck you, as you turned the corner and collided with a regular patron with your shoulder.

"Oh!" you said turning to look at the man with gentle blue eyes and brown mutton chops. "Sorry John." He would come in periodically, sometimes almost every day for 2 weeks and then would up and disappear for a month. Figuring it was military related, you always tried to be nice to him as he always left a generous tip.

"Careful love," he grumbled a name he said to you often ,"where you off to?"

"Abel forgot his lunch," you said showing him the bag, before starting to walk again.

"Silly boy," he said watching you walk away, hand resting on the door handle of the building. You grinned before sprinting off again in the direction of his school.

Finding him in the lunch room, you dropped he bag off in front of him.

"Sorry momma," he said at your winded state.

"Its fine, we just gotta clear out your lunchbox when we get home." Kissing the top of his head and quickly ruffling his hair. "Love you, see you later." Waving as you left heading back to work- this time at a stiff walking pace, too winded from running prior.

Back at the restaurant, the lunch rush starting to slow down as you approached Kate behind the counter, tying your apron back on again. "Thank you," you said whispering to her.

"It's fine," with a warm smile, her eyes peering up at you from the counter. "Your regular is still here."

Rolling your eyes, you gave her the same grin you had shown John earlier. "Not my regular. Maybe he is your regular."

"He didn't use to come every day like he does until you started."

"He doesn't come everyday."

"You know what I mean," she chirped back. "And he only ever tips you like that." Shaking your head, you started bussing tables, wiping down, and restocking preparing for the dinner rush.

In the mean time of waiting, you tried to make small talk with John.

"Want cherry pie? Fresh one was made this morning."

"Sure," he said sliding his coffee forward for a refill. Filling it, and turning to the kitchen to grab the slice of pie.

"Cherry pie?? That's your way of flirting?" Kate asked leaning against a kitchen counter, the cook giving a small snort and smile listening to your banter.

"Fuck off, I'm making you profit." causing her to cackle loudly.

Pie on the plate, you slipped through the saloon style doors and back into the dining room.

"Told a funny joke 'aye?" he asked.

Staring blankly, for a second you realized he heard Kate cackling. "Oh! That, no, just bullshitting with Kate."

The feeling of nervousness returning seeing his eyes peer up at you locking with yours before cutting into his pie, watching him poke some into his mouth on his fork. There must be a God however, because a table walking in is what broke your gridlock with him, grabbing your pad and paper. Ready to get back to work.

The entire dinner shift was a blur. John still there at the counter moving to a more private booth with 3 other men. Like he had been waiting for a meeting.

In the mode, your nervousness and anxiety left you, taking the order and trying to offer the best service you can. The mode finally being broke when 2 little arms snuck around your waist and hugged you from behind.

"Momma!" he yelled into the back of your apron. Kneeling down and turning around you hugged him around his shoulders. "Hey love bug."

"I missed you!! but..." and you could tell the next part he did not want to say.

"What's the matter..." You asked lowly and quietly.

"Dad's outside, he wants to talk to you." Your eyes leering up, seeing him outside leaning against his car, arms crossed.

"Ok, go tell Kate to give you some pie." You said ushering her to his direction. Eyes connected with Kate's speaking with a face that told her you were going outside as you untied your apron and placed it back behind the counter. She leaned to the side to see who it was you were meeting and once she did, the eye roll she gave back to you from the burning hatred she has for him.

Taking a deep breath in, closing your eyes to focus.

That's what you told yourself. Breath. Breathe. Abel, breathe for Abel. Little did you know, the booth all the way in the back, 4 pairs of eyes watching you. John's sending a glare in the direction, like he knew what was happening and the distress you were under.

The air outside humid from the impending summer that was approaching. The night sky starting to turn dark and street lights coming on. You refused to acknowledge him, instead standing in front of him with your arms crossed.

"You wanted to talk to me?"

"Our son told me you forgot to send him with lunch today."

"I did- but then I ran some to him." You said defensively knowing all to well your son did not say it in a manner to throw you under the bus.

"If its that hard for you to make sure he has what he needs, you should come back so I can do that for you both."

"No. You know that's never going to happen." Tone almost feral, tired of being beat with the idea.

"Fine," he huffed out almost nonchalantly, "Then here is this." He said presenting a packet of documents rather aggressively.

Looking on the front page, you saw it was a petition from him filling for full custody. He was trying to take Abel from you.

"Are you fucking kidding me??" Your tone hot.

"Don't think I won't win it. A mother working at a restaurant as her main source of income?? Unable to make sure he has lunch at school. Who knows what else you are failing at," his tone smug like he had full custody already. "Cat in the bag, Abel will be with me. And you can either join, or be miserable. Your choice." He said leaning down over you, laughing at your slack jaw look at him.

"You can't take him from me, I'm his mother."

"I'm his father with a full time job, money saved. I will do as a please. As I always do." He said darkly, hissing into your ear referring what had happened in the past.

Realizing how close he was, the reek of his pride burning your nose and eyes caused you to shove him back from you. He laughed, finding your attempt weak, seeing he got under your skin.

The scene could be seen from inside the restaurant, thankfully it was almost empty, John's table being the last one. Abel had his back turned from it and Kate stood inside distracting him from what was going on outside. Everyone couldn't help but notice John standing up however, long strides in his gait trying to get to you quickly. The other 3 with him standing up and following.

To your ex's mercy, he got into his car, still laughing before the group got outside the doors.

John continued outside, the other 3 standing inside, lax now. Hot tears stung your eyes and you did not want to present yourself to Abel yet.

"Love," John said quietly approaching you.

Turning to look at him over your shoulder, you quickly wiped your eyes, trying to look normal not wanting to bleed on him emotionally, but it didn't work.

"Love, what happened?" he asked approaching finally seeing your state. Unable to answer him, you hand him the packet of papers. Looking down on them he could see the intent behind it.

"I can't afford a lawyer," you choked to him. An arm coming around your shoulders pulling you into him. You never realized he smelled of pine and tobacco until now.

He let you sob into him. Heavy cries you tried to smother into his chest. John took in a large breath before finally uttering, "Marry me."

"What?" you asked thinking you misheard him.

"Marry me," he repeated, firmer this time.

You looked up at him wild look in your eyes. "Marry you??" you repeated.

"I'm British military. My benefits would be your benefits. Meaning you would have a lawyer." Your eyes bounced back and forth between the glaciers above you. Uncertainty filling you... but a spark of hope igniting. Had your conundrum really been solved this easily? You would do anything for your son.

Finally finding your voice, you muttered an "Ok." to him.

Strong arms wrapped back around you, pulling you into his chest and resting his head on top of yours. The shock of everything that had just happened, all you could do was lean into it. Breathing him in. A Breath in, Breath out.

"What jus' happened?" The one with the mohawk asked, leaning over to the one in the blue hat still watching through the windows. The blue hat answered "I think Cap'n is gettin' married."

Next

Dark Horse Masterlist

Captain John Price Masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley Masterlist

[queer-ragnelle]

What are some of the weirdest stories/books/movies etc you've encountered in your Arthuriana journey? Whatever weird might mean to you (good/bad/unsettling/unexpected/surreal/goofy)

Hi anon!

This is honestly a tough thing to answer because what even constitutes a weird Arthurian retelling? They're all pretty weird haha! But I definitely have a few that come to mind

The French film Perceval (1978) is super weird in a great way! It's shot on a stage with painted backgrounds and metallic trees and structures for the set. Real horses are brought on. A troupe of bards provide diegetic music, playing instruments and singing a narration of events on screen while also acting as characters in their own right (such as the jester Kay throws into the fire). Perceval and Gauvain narrate their own stories in third person at times too. It's surreal! It's as if Perceval's world is "fake," since his mother has kept him isolated for so long, it's a distorted view of reality. This is the closest adaptation of Chrétien de Troyes's Story of the Grail I can think of, it's nearly word-for-word, BUT! They removed the racism and antisemitism. Two thumbs up! The ending is bananas. There's no describing it, you just have to watch. You can download this movie from my MEGA drive or it can be watched for free on Tubi! (Content warning for nudity and some gore.)

The film Unidentified Flying Oddball (1979) is my favorite adaptation of Mark Twain's A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. The main character Tom works for NASA developing an android named Hermes. Through a comedy of errors, both Tom and Hermes end up launched into space at the speed of light, traveling through time, and crash land in Camelot, 508AD. Mordred mistakes Tom for a monster (due to his space suit and orb-shaped helmet) but Tom quickly wins Arthur's trust and allowed to hang out. He meets Sandy, a girl who thinks her dad has been transformed into a goose, and together with her and a page named Clarance, works to return home. It's exceedingly silly. I much prefer the character Tom (and Hermes, who is identical in appearance to Tom and jousts for him) to Sir Boss in the Connecticut Yankee film from 1949 with Bing Crosby. Tom's gun is funnier than the original as it's more like a science-fiction laser that blows things up. He also has a magnet ray he uses to draw armored knights where he wants. Not a good film, but goofy and fun. You can download this movie from my MEGA drive! (No content warnings, it's a family movie!)

The film Excalibur (1981) obviously has to make this list. Coincidentally, it's mostly for Percival again. The Grail Quest segment accounts for just 20 minutes of the entire film, but it feels like eons. And it's So Weird. It's safe to call it horror. Percival meets struggle after struggle, encountering many dead comrades along the way, raving mad townspeople struggling to survive, Morgan and Mordred attempting to steer him wrong. He's eventually hung from a tree and has a vision of God's voice. (Hallucination or real?) The dead knight dangling above him sways and his spurs cut Percival free. From there he runs into Uriens and holds him as he dies, struck down by miscreant knights. Percival eventually achieves the grail, obviously, but it's not until he's pushed the absolute limits. It's probably one of my favorite sequences in film ever. 11/10. You can download this from my MEGA drive! (Content warning for nudity, rape, gore, and incest.)

As for books, I recommend The Modern Arthur Trilogy by Peter David. The first one is Arthur running for mayor of NYC, the second one is President of the United States, and the third one he sort of becomes a god. It's wild. Other characters include Guinevere, Lancelot, Morgan le Fay, Mordred, Percival, Merlin, and of course the Lake of the Lake. The sequels randomly add Gilgamesh and Enkidu (and later Noah, like the guy with an ark in the Bible??) and it's all very strange indeed. The first book is definitely the best but Gilgamesh/Enkidu were pretty freaky (affectionate) so I did enjoy that, although the whole premise of book two is...meh. I listened to the graphic audio books which were awesome, the sound effect of Arthur falling down the subway stairs in full armor is worth every penny. (Content warning for incest, murder, cannibalism, racism, and terrorism)

[orangeartxolotl]

Me but I’ve fulfilled my life’s goal and live in a cave as an Avatar of the Buried.

makes kudzu grow in your lungs

[alrightberries]

our sorry little hearts

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x fem!reader

❈ genre: angst. ❈ word count: 1.6k

❈ summary: Levi hasn’t seen your traitorous Eldian face in years.

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. war. mentions of blood, death, and violence.

a/n: you’ve heard of enemies to lovers, now get ready for... lovers to enemies. this takes place during the liberio invasion aka S4 E6. based on a love like war by all time low.

(also don’t tell anyone but this is me lowkey warming up after not writing for so long)

There’s something oddly nostalgic about seeing you again on the battlefield.

Levi recognizes your usual battle stance; feet a shoulder’s width apart and hands tightly clutching the handles of your sheathed blades. You’re wearing the scouting regiment’s outdated white uniform, green cape hiding the leather straps your missing brown jacket usually would. He’s not surprised you’re not wearing your wings of freedom jacket, though; he was, after all, the one who sliced it in half during your escape with Zeke on the Cart Titan’s back. He hasn’t seen it, but he’s positive that a long scar runs down the length of your spine.

“Levi,” he hears you murmur, and he pretends that his heart doesn’t ache after hearing his name slip from your lips for the first time in four years. “I—... Levi,”

He feels his chest tighten. You still look as beautiful as he remembers you to be, and the fact that you still take his breath away is something he hates. It’s been a long while since he last stood on a battlefield with you. Only this time, there were no trees to swing from or titans to kill; no reassuring squeezes on the shoulder or cheeky kisses when no one was looking; no small smiles or stolen glances across the field as your horses galloped through Titan Country. No— this time, you wore different colors and fought on opposing sides.

“Levi, talk to me,” your tone is airy, said in what seemed to be a mixture of built up anticipation and disbelief. But there was something in your voice— something he couldn’t quite place. Was it relief? Longing, perhaps? Maybe even regret. But Levi pushes those thoughts aside in favor of gritting his teeth and giving his traitorous wife a stone cold stare. “Levi, talk to me, please.”

He refuses to reply. His hands are shaking from how hard he was gripping the handles of his blades, and he swears his heart was going to burst out of his untrimmed chest from how loudly it beat at his ribcage. There are about a million and one emotions swirling around his head— betrayal. anger. sadness. melancholy.

And he doesn’t know which one takes over him when he charges at you full speed.

There’s a grunt followed by the sound of metal clashing against metal, and Levi’s not surprised to see that your reflexes are still as sharp as they were before. His own cape whips in the wind when he turns to land another strike. But then he hears sound of your hooks digging into bricks, and he’s quick to take your little fight to the air in pursuit of you.

He knows he has to be at the plaza to save Eren’s ass but he also knows that he had at least seven minutes before he had to go. He’ll make this quick.

“Levi,” he hears you call out. You’ve led him further away from the plaza— maybe intentionally or unintentionally, he doesn’t know— and he’s only now realizing that you both stood on the side of a building, the hooks on your gears the only thing keeping you up. “My love—-”

“—don’t call me that,” his heart twitches and he sneers. It’s the first thing he’s said to you in years and god did you miss his voice, miss him in general. “Don’t you fucking dare call me that,”

“Levi,” you breathe, but the deep growl that escapes his lips is enough for your words to die in your throat.

“Stop,” he says. “You’ve lost the right to speak my name; you’ve lost the right to wear that cape,” his eyes land on the silver chain you wore around your neck, a gold ring hanging in the middle. It matched the one he had back home, the one he secretly held at night and kissed sorrowfully when he felt like breaking down. His voice is quieter, almost pained as he speaks, “you’ve lost the right to wear that ring. You’ve lost the right to even look me in the eye after what you’ve done.”

His words sting and your throat tightens when you once again remember the look of pure and utter betrayal in his eyes when you confessed you were a spy on behalf of the Marleyan government. The way he froze, hoping you were lying; yet the tears running down your cheeks and the apologies that slipped from your lips as you got down on your knees and begged him for forgiveness left no room for contest.

“Levi, we don’t have to fight, please just hear me out. I’m still the wife you loved—-“

“No,” he cuts you off. “My wife is gone. She died in the battle for Shiganshina.” your lip quivers, and he continues to speak. “You? You’re an enemy. You’re as good as dead to me.”

Your words once again die on your tongue when he charges at you, and you just barely manage to leap away. The edge of his blade scrapes against your thigh, and blood paints your trousers red when your feet land on the cobblestone streets.

Every attempt you make after, any attempts at conversation is silenced with a swift swing of Levi’s blades, almost as if he were seeking catharsis through violence.

You grit your teeth. “You’re never going to listen to me, are you?”

His silence and steely glare is all the answer you need, and you sigh. Your stance shifts, and the grip on your blades changes; you were finally taking an offensive stance, Levi notices. Blocking his blows wouldn’t be enough— you couldn’t reason with him no matter how hard you tried, and you couldn’t win with just defense. You had to outsmart him; you had to win. You had to.

“I’m sorry, levi, but losing isn’t an option for me. Not this time,” you murmur.

You didn’t want to fight him, he could see it in your eyes. But you were fighting for something, for someone more important than him. Your eyes— the first things he fell in love with, the ones that were usually fiery and full of life— are soulless, almost solemn when he sees you run at him full speed, and Levi pushes down the hurt he felt at the thought of you loving another as he charges at you too.

A tear silently falls down your cheek. You loved levi, but you loved him more. You were fighting for him, and he was waiting for you back at home.

There’s a grey little building in the Liberio Intermittent Zone, somewhere between the gates and the plaza. The gunshots and explosions just barely reach the drab building, and the smoke rising into the air is the only thing visible to the naked eye of the chaos unfolding at the plaza.

A Marleyan soldier, donned in white and war medals, stands in front of an open window. She’s got binoculars in her hands, and she peeks through the eye piece to watch as two figures fight. Their capes create shadows of black where they flutter, and their silver blades gleam in the moonlight.

She smirks. Your negotiation failed, just like she said it would, and now you had no choice but to fight to the death.

Good, she thinks, that Eldian scum’s doing her end of the bargain.

She leans back and a satisfied hum leaves her lips. She turns to look at the little boy, no more than four years old, sat on the bed. The red Eldian arm band clasped around his arm brings a grimace to the soldier’s face. She can’t believe she got stuck with babysitting some lowlife scum.

“Is mommy doing well?” he asks timidly. He doesn’t even know that you were out there about to murder a man, but the kid was smart; he at least knew your job carried a heavy weight.

“For now,” she replies. The boy’s jet black hair bounces slightly as he nods, and his slanted eyes are downcast, staring at the floor. His silvery grey orbs dare not make contact with hers.

The boy looked almost nothing like you— if anything, she was sure he looked to be the spitting image of his unknown father. Strong genes, the father must’ve had.

She finds amusement in how tense the boy was around her; at least his whore of a mother had the decency to teach the kid his place in the world. He was worse than an Eldian, the lowest of the low— he was half Paradis demon. He should’ve never been born. They should’ve beaten you to death along with your unborn child like she’d suggested when you came back from Paradis knocked up.

“You can kill me, but spare my baby, please.” she remembers you begging. “I didn’t even know i was pregnant. Not even the father knows.”

Still, maybe it was a good choice to keep both you and the demon child alive. As much as she hated to admit it, you were a skilled soldier— one of the best they’ve ever had. Threatening your life meant nothing to you, but threatening your child’s? All they had to do was suggest it, and you’d follow their commands like an obedient dog chasing after a dangling treat.

“When’s mommy going to come home?” the boy suddenly asks.

“Soon,” she replies, eyes once again gazing through her binoculars. “If your mother does her job well, she’ll be back soon.” There’s a telephone beside the soldier, ready to make the call should you ever stop fighting. A sniper awaits her signal.

“If she doesn’t... well,” she laughs. The door to the small room you called home is locked, and the loaded gun hidden in the soldier’s pocket is a weight she’s familiar with. “Do you believe in god?”

“No,” the boy shakes his head. “Who’s that?”

“Tell you what, kid. if your mother fucks this up, i’ll personally see to it that you meet him soon enough.”

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[occultdaddy]

So I previously talked about a crossover with dsmp folks (specifically Techno and Sapnap) in Empires. And while I did start writing on something with Sapnap as Scott's knight. I've only written one small scene.

Today I got another idea! Still s1 because besides Joel's videos and a few episode 1s I haven't gotten around to watching s2.

So a fandom favourite(?) is that the Mezalean citizens are made of clay and brought to life by the magical mother tree. Or at least I think I've read that in fics. So most of the citizens look like Joel. Not to a tee because magic ain't perfect, but fairly similar. One day some kind of orb(?) washes up upon his kingdom. It resembles the core the Life Tree gives the citizens. However it looks different, more like polished and shiny obsidian. And it's a lot warmer than the usual cores. Hot almost, but in a pleasant way. Joel, being ever so careful (sarcasm) decides to just give it ago. What's the worst that can happen, am I right? And so he gives the orb-thing to a fresh clay body instead of going through the usual process. Instead of it taking on similar features of Joel and the rest of the citizens, it looks like Sapnap.

All Mezalean citizens are "born" with some semblance of muscle memory and language knowledge, but it still takes a while for them to learn and grow into a full person. However actual memories isn't something they have. This new person however, seems to have something more. It's vague and barely there, but it's something more than what the Life Tree gives the clay.

Also I'm thinking Sapnap doesn't remember his name at first, but he absolutely refuses any suggestions Joel comes with. Kinda want him to remember by seeing a panda. And idk then Joel and Sapnap bond over being short and killing horses and stuff. And Sapnap gradually regains his memory.

Also I still stand by my previous post. Techno is a farmer in the codempire. He'll help if Jimmy asks, but he's mostly just there to have a comfortable nice life as a humble farmer. Chasing away the occasional annoying crow that doesn't scare of scarecrows like other birds.

For the previous idea that I just barely started writing on, I did consider having Punz and/or Purpled involved in the assassin's guild. It could work for this one too.

... Watch me start yet another Sapnap wip piece.

[randomstufftolookat]

Can you do a Series with Y/n x MCYT's?

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, sure.

~~~

Blood against a Marble wall | Technoblade x F!Centaur!Reader!

Y/n = Your Name

H/C = Hair Color

F/C = Your natural hair color is the color of your fur(?) (Do horses have fur? You know what I mean)

S/C = Skin Color

E/C = Eye Color

F/F = Favorite Flower

By the way, you can make your back legs disappear so you just have two legs, kind of like a Satyr's.

~~~

~Prolouge~

You are 9 years old.

"Y/N!" Your mother holds you close to her horse body, lifting her bow and arrow. "Stay close, darling!" Your mother says, shooting a zombie that was ambling close to you both. "Mommy? Where's daddy?" You ask, coughing as smoke makes it's way to your nose. She doesn't answer. You knew what had happened instantly. "Mommy! We need to help him!" You shout, tears creeping down your face as you stamp the ground with worry. A small tear falls down your mother's S/C face. You hug your mother's white body and she keeps fighting the monsters. There were so many more mobs than before. She turns to you, knowing she couldn't fight them all. "Y/n, run." She says, not turning you. "But mom-" "GO!" She yells. Tears fall down your face at a more rapid pace and you do as your told, leaving your mother to cover you as your F/C legs pound against the forest floor.

You take a sharp turn and stop when you see a man with dark, raven-like wings. He sees you as you quickly hide behind a tree. "Whoa- hang on, mate! Where's your parents?" He asks. You don't answer. "It's ok, I won't hurt you." He says and you slowly come out from behind the trees. His eyes trail down to your horse body and his eyes widen. "Your a Centaur..." He then looks up at your eyes and sorrow fills his own blue orbs. "You village was burnt down, wasn't it?" He asks. Small tears prick your eyes as you nod, shifting so that your back legs disappeared. "I'm so sorry..." He says, walking forward slowly. You don't back away when his arms wrap around you. "They're both dead." You whisper. He rubs your back and you whimper into his shoulder. You had a feeling this man would be someone you'd know for a while.

[fromtherubble]

Glass and Pomegranate Seeds

Something stirs in the darkness, and Aphrodite glides upwards from the impossible softness of the bed. It knows the contours of her body as well as she knows it, and in her world, this too can be a throne.

She is sheathed in sheets of exquisite silk that might as well have been a designer gown for the way that they drape her body, capturing every inch, every curve, every beautiful line of her. Beneath these, she is naked, but it has been a long time since nakedness felt akin to vulnerability. Perhaps never. In the room where she had slept, a man dozes still, his hairy arm laid over the place she had vacated, warm and smelling of her. She is confident he will not wake, but casts her gaze toward him anyway, a faint echo of a smile, once brighter, tugging at her perfect lips, and it is as gorgeous as it is heartbreaking. He is her physical antithesis, as ugly as she was beautiful, and some cruel poet might have presumed he was a jape the universe had set down for her, or a cruel command of Zeus in vengeance for her continual defiance. But it is she who is the goddess of love. She who decides the fate of the heart. This man did not need another's ironic intentions anymore than he required the aching beauty of the other gods to find his way here, to her bed, and to somewhere far more precious still. But that was a story for another time, for Aphrodite's senses were never wrong. Something was stirring in the darkness, demanding her attention.

Off of the bedroom, there was a balcony, wide and open to the world. Overhead, a storm brews. The clouds were wicked, tumultuous shades of violet and black interspersed with gray. They crackle rumble with their energy, and a lightning-bolt shoots through the sky, crashing to the earth several hundred meters below. In her tower, in her privileged palace, she is not currently at risk of being threatened by this storm. She is above the clouds as much as she is in them, those gathering below her balcony, so close she might touch them, a perfect mimic of that which spills out above her. Of course, her risk of danger might alter some once they realize what she had done. It was no small thing, but then again, love never is.

Her fingers touch the crystal orb that is suspended in rings of gold, turning it. Her magic fills the sphere, and she can see all the world. Not just Greece, or Rome, where one day her name will be known, but the totality of it all, places where they worship her under different names. She has many forms, some gentler, some more fierce, but in all she commands the heart of the worshiper in a way no other god can quite manage. Aphrodite whispers the name of the god she seeks, the name that is the same as his realm. The orb shudders, her light flickering out from it for a moment. It strains. Hades has done his best to keep her sights from here, wary of her as much as he is of the other gods. She cannot blame him; Aphrodite knows what she is, and would be glad to use this little fact against him if she needed to. They are all like this, defensive, territorial creatures. If he wishes to protect his domain, so be it. But love has worked its way into Hades at last, insidious and clever as it has always been, even if he might not have believed it once, and where love goes, so too may Aphrodite follow. The crystal flashes once more, and she sees into his realm. They are in a room whose walls are constructed entirely of platinum that would make Zeus green with envy, its ceiling formed of glass set with innumerable precious gemstones that perfectly mirror the sky wherever he wishes it too - they all have their eyes, she remembers. His are turned to Olympus, and she is not surprised. Hades is not fool enough to believe this venture of his will go unnoticed, and he must know it cannot go unpunished, either. Such is the cost of love, especially so for the god.

He is not alone. She had not expected him to be. There amongst a world of gemstones and metal is a woman. She is beautiful, Aphrodite remarks, as she often had when she'd seen the goddess previously. A daughter of Demeter, with skin gleaming bronze and hair even now woven with flowers. They do not wilt here amongst the dead, and Aphrodite knows that she is life itself. Another reason for Hades to desire her. Aphrodite cannot hear them, but she sees the woman's cheeks color with a rosy hue, and watches, fascinated, as her lips tug into laughter. She had been watching Hades' courtship of her, though the poets will one day tell it wrong, as they will do so many other things. In their story, he takes, but in hers, in the one which is closest to the truth, it is Hades himself who is first stolen. Hades, who had ascended out of his dark domain at the beckoning of Zeus, to personally escort the soul of one of Zeus's champions. The king of the gods was a danger to all who became embroiled in his interests, but he was as loyal to those temporary loves as he would ever be to Hera, flighty though he was. Aphrodite had been visiting with Demeter when the earth shuddered with his rising chariot, and had been amused to watch as sweet Persephone's head turned to watch the progress of his black horses through the sky. Demeter had tsked, and Persephone had returned to chattering with the nymphs who kept her company, obedient. Much must have been the shock of Demeter when Hades came to give his respects, though truly the man held more decency than most of the pantheon contained were it compiled. He was often quiet, it was to be sure, and his contentment with his lot was considered disconcerting by those always aiming higher, but such was Hades' way.

Aphrodite had seen it the moment that his eyes had befallen the gaggle of women that laughed and sipped ambrosia beneath the shaded canopy of an alder tree. She knew without needing any further assessment which had caught his eye, unaware as though she was. And then the girl had been summoned to meet the king of the underworld, and Hades had grown quieter. His visit was always short when he joined those on Olympus, but it was shorter still today, and Aphrodite had even perceived a faint blush coloring his light cheeks. She had chuckled to herself, and continued speaking with Demeter, all the while plotting.

It had been easy enough to concoct a reason to visit Hades, descending below the earth to beg for two lovers divided by death. As always, he had narrowed his eyes when he saw her, a warranted distrust unguarded in his features. She had made her plea, and made it well - she did most things convincingly, whatever Homer might say, and in the end a deal was struck. Aphrodite would not usually linger to make herself a nuisance, and in doing so threaten the bargain made, but today she had other motives for arriving than young love. She mentioned casually, just as Hades was gritting his teeth, that she had passed gentle Persephone plucking flowers on her way here, on a cliff-side which overlooked the wine-dark sea. How charming, she remarked approvingly, and how brave to draw so near to the edge, unafraid of the tumultuous waters below. She left soon after, but did not return immediately home. It was true that Persephone was plucking flowers, but she had not been alone. Rarely did Demeter permit such a thing, and with good cause, for mortals and gods alike suffered hubris. Aphrodite told to a group of handsome men, demi-gods no doubt, of the beautiful women who liked to pluck the flowers, just as she had told Hades much the same. Their souls were gentle and she sensed no harm, so she was pleased when they thanked her, knowing not it was a goddess in their midst, and went forth to seek these women. Lust, Aphrodite knew, and even love can begin with suggestion.

The men came often to visit the nymphs, but only Persephone held no interest in them. Their faces were charming, but Aphrodite noted with interest how vain she found them. But still they came, and it was on one such day that Hades approached. He watched that day, and for two more after, until on the fourth he approached her. Aphrodite did not need to watch any longer, not after she had seen this exchange. She needed no arrows, no whispered spells to ensure that what lay buried there would bloom. The heart knows itself far better than the mind will ever do.

You may have heard of a story about an innocent girl and a thunderous chariot, but that is not this story. In this story, Aphrodite's story, but also Hades' and Persephone's, there is only a man in love with a woman. He does not take, but rather gives. Gives his love, gives his heart, gives his world. In this story, she eats the seeds willingly, as good as any marriage vow, though these are later whispered before Aphrodite herself. In this story, the world still grows cold, and many still suffer, and many still die, because there is strength to a mother's love, to any love. And in this story, Persephone agrees again to arise, to split her year between one love and another. But in this story, there are no tears from her eyes when she descends. Aphrodite makes a habit of viewing it, at least for the first millennia. They are a beautiful couple, as she knew they would be, his darkness tempered by her light. She brings warmth where she goes, treads with light, and he makes her stronger with each winter they spend. Aphrodite enjoys watching them, her most proud success. There are those who utter foul against them, who declare their story something dark and dangerous, but the goddess of love knows the truth.

She thinks of the man who belongs to her, and she to him, and she smiles. She understands, more than most, how love can bloom in the most unlikely of places.

[hardyimagines]

Sleepy

Eddie brock going out with his gf at like 3am to a cafe just to drink hot chocolate and chill cause they had trouble sleeping. Is that a decent one shot tiny idea thingy?

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The moon was bright in the night’s sky. Stars sprinkled the blank area surrounding the glowing orb, glittering in the sky vibrantly. The city below was dark, most homes cascaded in a sheet of black as the owners slept peacefully behind closed doors. There were cars that would occasionally speed down the empty streets, fleeing past the lights that had been tinted green for majority of the night. There were a few fast food restaurants still open, sleepy employees residing inside with bored expressions and droopy eyes as they impatiently waiting for the clocks on the wall to strike a certain time, signaling for their departure. And for the remaining people who remained awake along with the city, people like you and your boyfriend, it was night’s like these when you just couldn’t seem to fall into slumber.

The air outside was chilly, much chillier than it was during the day now that you were without the heated glow from the sun. You walked alongside your boyfriend, clumpy slippers slapping the pavement beneath you as you shuffled beside him. Your hair was drawn up in a messy bun, fingertips wrapped around a dark purple, fluffy blanket that you had lugged off the sofa on your way out the front door and clutched around your body. You had smeared eyeliner under your eyes from the night before and you were dressed down in a pair of pyjama pants that belonged to the man at your side but they were too small for him, yet still baggy on you, so you’d taken them. Your eyes dropped to the plaid material, studying it for half a second before your attention was pulled to the heavy weight added to your shoulders.

Eddie Brock moved along beside you, his arm now rested around you snugly. His fingertips were gentle on the comfy fabric of the blanket, rubbing your arm through the thick material as he continued to talk to you about the nightmare he’d seemed to keep slipping into throughout the night.

“I’m telling you, babe,” He sighed breathily, his breaths visible in the streetlights glow. “It was terrifying. I mean, really, imagine a sixty foot tall horse trampling over you.” He lifted his gaze to the trees in the distance, as if a dark shadow would emerge from the clutter of leaves to reveal itself as this creature his brain had conjured up.

“Eddie.” Your eyes fluttered as they drifted up to his own. Your long lashes tickled your cheeks every time you blinked. “Honey, you have a parasite living inside you, how can you possibly be scared of a horse.” The amusement in your tone told Eddie that you were merely teasing the symbiote that lived inside him by using the term Venom hated most. Parasite. The flicker of Venom in Eddie’s gaze made your lips curve up on one side into a lopsided smirk. Opening your blanket, you stepped in closer to him and weaved your strong grip around his waist, squeezing him tightly.

Eddie peered down at you, doing his best to ignore the internal complaints that Venom continued to drone on about. Eddie wished that your thoughts could be invaded just as his were. It really wasn’t fair that he had to suffer all on his own.

The conversation came to a halt when you drew the heavy door open that led to the diner. The place was small, a hole in the wall, but it was known for its family business and original recipes — not to mention it was delicious — so the customers would pile in on a daily basis, typically in the mornings. They were also open 24/7 and any business that was tended to be worthy of being so. You stepped inside, unsurprised to find that it was even colder inside the small building. Eddie held the door open and piled in directly after you, coming to a stop when his chest brushed against your back. He was taller than you, chin almost pressed against the back of your head as his hands lifted to graze your covered arms.

The redhead by the door was busy smacking on a piece of gum, pink apron tied around her waist with a frilly lace lining the bottom. She was wearing a frizzy wig and bright blue eyeshadow. It was all a part of the outfit that her mother insisted was adorable — and therefore good for business. She thought she looked like a cheap extra, auditioning for a role in some movie that took place in the 50’s. The name tag on her white shirt read ‘Margaret’ and as you parted your lips to greet her, she did the same. Her lengthy nails lifted to dip past the curls and scratch at the wig that had been irritating her scalp for hours.

“Welcome.” She smiled sweetly, almost too kindly. “Would you like a table or a booth?”

Eddie’s eyes were busy dragging along the length of the room. There weren’t many people inside, but why would there be? The only other people here at this time of night would be people who travelled for work, policemen, the elderly, and people like you — people who couldn’t sleep.

You shuffled in front of your boyfriend, arm lifting so you could point toward the booth in the corner. “Booth is fine.” You didn’t mean to suggest a specific one, it was just habit to animatedly use your hands.

Eddie’s eyes flickered back to the girl as she spoke to you, gathering two menu’s and a slip of paper with the specials scribbled along the front. “Right this way.” She sighed before stepping past the pair of you and leading you through the scattered tables. Eddie was dressed down in a dark grey hoodie and some jeans he’d yanked on when you snagged the blanket from the sofa. His hand managed to find yours as it barely crept out of the underside of the blanket. Taking it in his own, he followed you toward the table that the lady ushered toward. You slid into the booth and Eddie followed suit. The woman would’ve given the pair of you a look of judgement, but she was too tired to poke fun at the fact that you’d both settled for one side when booths were double-sided. She dropped the menu’s down on the table before ensuring she’d be right back.

You knew she was probably lying, no doubt heading into the back to prepare some coffee and cups of water before she’d slip out the back door for a quick cigarette. Well, you assumed so since she stunk of ash and smoke, not that it bothered you. It wasn’t as if the pair of you were in a rush to get back home so you wouldn’t have minded if she climbed into her car and drove off to buy a pack of cigarettes, much less had a quick one in the alley. You frowned softly, realizing that you were lost in your thoughts and analyzing such a small thing. If it weren’t for Eddie’s raised brows and inquisitive stare you probably would’ve remained there, inspecting each person tucked away inside.

You didn’t feel the sleepy droopiness yanking at your stubborn eyelids just yet so you fixed them on your boyfriend. A slow smile pulled at your lips. Unlike you, he did look exhausted. He had forming bags under his eyes that left a visible dark shadow and his chin was propped up in his palm, supporting the weight of it since he didn’t have a pillow to lay on. It wouldn’t matter if he did and it didn’t matter that his eyes begged him to close. He couldn’t find the oblivion that was ordinarily so easy.

“So,” You spoke up as you grabbed ahold of one of the menu’s. Lifting it so you could inspect the muddled words in front of you, your heart sank. The font was small on the plastic, rectangular card. “Shit, i didn’t bring my contacts.”

Eddie’s brows arched at your choice of words before directing his stare toward the menu you clutched. Lifting his arm, he draped it across your shoulders, warm and exposed muscles grazing the softness of the purple blanket you still had draped around your body. “Here, I’ll read it to you.” He mumbled out, voice drowning with tiredness. He grasped one corner of the sheet but instead of dragging it away from you, he slid across the seat so that your bodies were closer together. Staring down at the options, he tried to keep it simple instead of running through a hundred different items. “Do you know sort of what you want?” He inquired, heavy breaths tickling your shoulder and cheek.

You craned you’re neck to the side, lips almost bumping his cheek. “Um.. pancakes.”

“Plain?” He grunted, doing his best to avoid the breaths of yours that tickled his rough skin.

“Plain?” You scoffed. “Are you sure you’re my boyfriend?” Plucking the menu away from him completely, you discarded it back on the clean table before rotating on the squishy cushion to face him.

“Nutella.” He corrected himself, looking in your direction slowly. Even sitting, he was taller than you. His fingertips pressed against your arm firmly, dragging you toward him so that you were forced to meet him in the middle for a gentle kiss.

“Mh, there you go.” You mumbled against his lips, not daring to break it first.

His smile broke the lip lock, teeth on show and therefore forcing your lips to graze his pearly whites. “Nutella is so sticky. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” His eyes were tinted over with amusement. “You’re disgusting.”

“Funny you should say that.. last time I had Nutella smeared on my lips, you licked it off.” Your brows arched in an accusing manner. “So clearly I’m not that disgusting.”

Eddie chuckled under his breath at the memory that formed in his head. Turning toward the little machine perched on the corner of the table, he drew it toward him to rest so he could type in your order. “Two pancakes?” He asked quietly.

Your eyes moved to the screen. The longer you thought about the pancakes, the lesser they seemed to appeal to you. Pursing your lips, you reached out and let your hand cover his own, big eyes squinting. “Nevermind, Baby. I don’t think I’m hungry enough for food.” Your eyes lit up at the beverages. “I think I just want a hot chocolate.”

Eddie turned his head toward your own to inspect you. “Are you sure? We can always bring them home if you don’t eat them all.” He offered.

The table in front of the pair of you blinked, waiting for the order to be placed. Eddie waited for your response, but you were busy scrolling through the lengthy list of flavors that they could add into the hot, creamy, mug of chocolate. You’d grown up hating the cup of goodness. You could hear your mother’s faint voice as she asked you if you were interested in a cup. You’d stick your tongue out in distaste before claiming that it was too sweet for your liking. Now, you drank it so often that Eddie joked at times you should just grow out a mustache — seeing as you typically had a faux chocolate one across your upper lip most mornings.

“No,” You finally spoke up quietly, pressing on a cup of hot chocolate with a cocoa stick and whipped cream. “It’s okay, baby, really. I think I’m just trying to convince myself I’m hungry because we’re here, but i probably wouldn’t even be able to take one bite, I know it.” Kissing his rough, stubbly cheek, you lingered in place before offering the tablet up to him. Eddie was the farthest thing from picky so with a brief inspection of what you’d ordered, he pressed the small ‘1’ that resided beside your drink and changed it to a ‘2’ so he could have the exact same thing.

In the corner of the room, a small computer lit up brightly with your order. You briefly looked in the direction where the quiet ding erupted from before lifting your hand to the back of your boyfriends neck. Giving him your sole attention, you ignored the woman — a different woman than the one who had seated you.

Eddie set his elbow on the table and let a heavy breath of air escape his lips. He was tired, but it seemed that the only time his body was willing to sleep was at the worst times. Now was not the most opportune moment and yet there he sat in the bright diner, chilly air wrapped around his body as he sat in the booth with droopy eyes directed at you.

Your hand lifted to his hair, brushing through the thick strands slowly, smoothing them down. “You know, for a person who couldn’t get any sleep, you sure do look like you’re on the verge of passing out.”

Eddie smirked toward you before leaning in and slowly wrapping his arm around your shoulders. His lips moved to your own, stealing a few soft kisses before he shrunk back against the chair and directed his stare toward the table. “It’s a lot easier to sleep when I’m not suppose to be.” He grunted. “And Venom’s being awfully quiet so that helps too.”

Your eyes searched his for a few moments, wondering silently if the symbiote’s need to talk all night was what kept your boyfriend up at such late hours. “Well we can take our hot chocolate’s to go.” You murmured sleepily. The bright light was beaming down on your sensitive eyes, forcing them to grow droopy just as Eddie’s had. “Maybe we need to start sleeping with our bedroom lights on and our air conditioner on high.”

Eddie chuckled lowly before moving his hand to rest on your upper back. He traced lazy shapes along your skin, over your shirt. “We can stay here. We’ll grow sleepier and sleepier and then when we get home, hopefully we’ll pass out.” He drew you toward him so your head could lay against his broad chest. The sound of his heartbeat comforted you, lulling your droopy eyes to flutter before closing. The pair of you were probably a sight, curled up in the small booth pressed against one another while you waited for your drinks.

Shockingly, it didn’t take long at all before a waitress came sauntering over with a tiny try. She lifted each mug by the warm handles and set them on the table in front of each of you before taking the tablet and setting the screen to check-out. She made sure there was nothing else either of you needed before excusing herself so she could tend to the other tables. Not chocolate must’ve been very popular at this hour because you hadn’t had to wait very long. You lifted your head away from Eddie’s chest, unsurprised to find that it felt so heavy. Peering down at the whipped cream that lined the rim of your mug, you leaned forward and licked the topping before looking toward your boyfriend when he did the exact same. The only difference was that he’d managed to smear some on his nose. You didn’t have a chance to point it out before he lifted his hand to his face and with the back of his wrist, wiped away the smudge. You smiled fondly toward the man before slipping your hand beneath the table and letting your fingertips graze his thigh. It was innocent. A touch just to touch him. But he sent you a side glance either way, inspecting your true intentions for only a moment before his hand lowered to cover your own.

A peaceful silence settled over the two of you. The only sounds present were your occasional giggles when he was messy due to the cream. The hot beverage was soothing on your throat, it made your body internally hot but weirdly comfortable. It was probably because of how cold it was inside the establishment. Eddie leaned his head to the side and let his temple find your shoulder as he continued to sip at the chocolate.

“We should’ve drove.” He finally spoke. His voice was heavy and low. The gruffness of it told you all you needed to know — he didn’t feel like walking. Especially not now, now that his limbs were deadweights and his body was ready to absolutely collapse. He leaned against your body further, arm moving to loop around your waist. You lifted your hand to his hair and began to caress the messy strands. With your free hand, you adjusted the blanket that was draped around you and made it so that it laid across him as well.

“I can get us an uber, baby. Don’t worry about walking.” You assured him. Sending a look toward a waitress in the corner, who’d been gawking at Eddie for what seemed like the second she handed him his hot chocolate, you turned your head and kissed his nose softly. It was the easiest part of him to reach. You were unsurprised when his head tipped and he leaned in for an even better kiss. Your lips pressed to his own for a few seconds before you drew back and pulled your phone from the little zip on the front of your purse. Eddie watched the blinding light from your phone before his eyes slid shut. He could hear the faint tapping of your thumbs as you clicked the little icons and typed in the addresses. Your hot chocolate wasn’t even close to being finished though, so before confirming the ride, you set your phone on the table so it would be ready when the pair of you were.

As you sipped your got chocolate, indulging in pointless conversation every now and then, Eddie remained slumped against you with his mouth hanging partially open and his eyes closed completely. It was only when you were in the middle of discussing the strangeness about chocolate being able to rock them to sleep that you heard a faint, little snore leave his lips. Your head turned, inspecting the big, sleepy bear. Your heart tightened and a little smile graced your lips. You figured you could get his hot chocolate to go, but he wouldn’t drink it cold and he’d insist it didn’t taste the same if he warmed it up. You reached around his body for the little screen on the ledge and pulled your wallet from your pocket so you could pay for the drinks.

Eddie’s body followed your shoulder wherever it went and when you began to squirm to get back in your regular position, he sleepily wrapped his arms around your body more securely. You could tell, with each passing second, that he was falling deeper and deeper asleep. So the guilt that pooled in your stomach seemed to instantly swallow you whole.

How the hell were you going to wake him up and get him to the uber?

He was finally sleeping.

The envy that flooded you intertwined with the guilt though and as you felt the reluctance to wake him, you also felt the desire to join him. Your hands fell to his hard shoulders, squeezing them tenderly before your thumb mashed the ‘confirm’ button on your phone. You supposed you could let him sleep until the headlights rolled up outside. Tilting your head so that it rested against his own, you let your eyes flutter just for the time being. The driver was still 8 minutes away, so you figured it would be okay to just rest your eyes.

The waitress in the corner lifted a brow. The pair of you definitely were a sight. Sitting in a booth, laid against one another with a frilly blanket draped around you. The glow from your phone pulled her gaze to the glass door, peering outside. She wasn’t stupid. Loads of people came to the diner at all hours in the morning. You weren’t the first couple to fall asleep while waiting for your ride, and you wouldn’t be the last. She crept up to the table and cleaned the dishes off the surface before making her way back to the counter. Along with waitressing and clean up duty, she also considered herself to be an alarm clock — for she would wonder over and wake any slumbering customers when their lifts had arrived. She slumped against the wall and waited patiently, arms folding over her chest and big green eyes sliding along the darkness that kissed the windows. Patience seemed to be a necessity — a requirement for this job. She was lucky she had plenty.

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A/N: I know this is shitty and very simple, but I’ve gotta her back into it 🥺💞 thank you so much for your patience!!

[corinthbayrpg]

NAME. Kit Berker AGE & BIRTH DATE. 35 & July 19th, 1986 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/him SPECIES. Werewolf OCCUPATION. Unemployed FACE CLAIM. Serkay Tütüncü

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: domestic abuse, gore ) Kit was born in Harlan, Kentucky to Abigail and Arthur Weiss. His mother worked at one of the highway diners all day while his father worked in the mines. Mostly anyone under the middle class made a living working in the Harlan Hills. The moment that Kit was the legal age he joined right up with his father. Coming home covered in coal dust and dirt, smoking a cigarette and nursing a beer on the porch. Kit was so tired most of the time that it became real easy to tune out the yelling and screaming of his parents having their nightly domestic. Often ending with a crash of something breakable and his mother weeping in the bathroom with a glass of wine. Harlan County was the kind of place where you don't ask too many questions and you don't stare too long. Everyone kept to themselves, you certainly did not confront your neighbor who you saw coming home late last night covered in blood, and you absolutely did mention a troubled marriage. Everyone knew what was going on; nobody dared say anything. The worst was in church with the side eyes and whispers. 

When Kit turned Twenty-two his father was killed by his mother. Across the dining room table, a beautiful dinner was laid out. His father on one end, his mother on the other. He was talking too much, saying derogatory things. “You’re worthless, you call this food?. What kind of a woman are you?” etc. She must have finally had it and let a shotgun shell cut straight into Arthur’s head. Brain matter and blood splattering the window behind him. Kit hadn’t been home at the time and ended up finding out after getting off a shift at the mine. Called down to the police station, the scene was described to him and told that his mother wouldn’t be going to prison. On the account of claiming it was self defense. Everyone in Harlan County knew she was being abused. It was just a matter of time before she lost it. 

Living under the same roof as his mother was uncomfortable, sure Kit loved her and understood entirely why she did what she did. But there was some tension and uneasiness that Kit would feel whenever he would sit across the table from her in the same spot where his dad got his brains splattered on the dining room window. So he left, quit his job at the mine, took all his savings and headed North. Finding a job up there wasn’t hard. Getting himself sorted on a ranch that raised livestock, most of his duties were fixing things and herding the cattle too and from grazing grounds. The owners were especially nice to him, and they ended up getting pretty close. They were a younger couple who inherited the farm from their family and just needed help around the place since it was such a large property. Kit happily obliged, and of course the paycheque helped. There were a couple of ‘em, people looking for jobs that paid mostly under the table, but they were all good folk. 

There were predators that would come and pick off the cattle now and again, most of the time it was just pesky coyotes who were easy to scare off. But a couple mornings, the farm hands would stumble across the corpse of a cow ripped apart by something much bigger. Everyone assumed it was a bear, and night patrols were set out in the evenings. Armed with a rifle, Kit headed out on his own, riding a horse around the property. Keeping the cows herded closer to the homestead. He could remember the moon being at its peak when his horse started acting strange because he could clearly see the fearful whites of the horses eyes as he was flung from it’s back and hit the ground with a hard thud and snap. His hand catching his fall and snapping under the pressure, letting out a painful cry and holding the broken wrist against his chest, eyes rising to watch his horse running off in the opposite direction, gaze trailing to the tree line where he spotted two yellow orbs staring straight at him. Everything after that was chaos, he tried to get up to run but his legs felt like jello, he went to grab his rifle but it was impossible to hold right with only one hand. The thing got closer and closer, a low growl emitting from it’s form. From a distance, Kit thought it was just a regular wolf, but as it got closer it got bigger and bigger. A massive beast that could fit Kit’s entire head in it’s mouth if it wanted. He clumsily fired off a shot that hit the wolf in the leg, it didn’t even flinch. Lunging at the man who was now helpless on the ground. 

Kit could remember a lot of pain in his arm before blacking out, found only half an hour after the attack since the ranchers heard the gunshot. Miraculously they managed to get him to the hospital without him bleeding out. In the emergency room for only a few days before the large bite wound in shoulder was on it’s way to being completely healed. “A miracle” the doctors and nurses would explain to him as he finally came to with what happened. No matter how much he insisted he could go back to work, the kind owners of the farm wouldn’t allow it and said that he should take the month off after a scare like that. But as the days went by Kit was only feeling stronger and stronger, like a second wind was breathed into him. He left the hospital a week later when they could no longer rationalize keeping him there. But it was in the weeks that followed when he realized something was wrong with him. The full moon approached rapidly as he was tending to the animals making sure they were all herded back before it got too dark. 

The way he felt that night he couldn’t possibly describe, it was a mix of anger, strength, fear all mixed together that sent his body into a quivering mess beneath the full moon. Everything he was feeling was amplified and he had to have thrown up at least once or twice as he curled up in the middle of the pasture. His horse had run off, the livestock wouldn’t come anywhere near him and as soon as the last cloud passed away from the sky and the moon hit its peak, his body snapped and fractured, breaking down on itself. If you asked Kit to recall how he felt in that moment the absolutely couldn’t, after both his legs snapped out of place he blacked out. Only waking at sunrise in a misty field with his face buried in the rapidly cooling corpse of a cow. Luckily no one had spotted him out there in the pasture and while naked and covered head to toe in blood he wobbled back to his cabin on the property, hiding behind the locked door for days.

Irrationally he believed that it was obvious he was the culprit, he was the last one out there, but the body of the heifer was mangled to a point that pointed towards a large animal not a “human” He had to get off the farm, at least for a little while, while no one suspected him. After the first time he went through the shift, Kit had grown to be more careful, making sure he was alone whenever a full moon came around. Controlling his emotions well enough to keep from shifting out of the blue. But the dates slipped his mind, he’d been working so much and was getting exhausted and careless. He never would’ve gone into the city had he known. It was just supposed to be a quick drink at one of the local pubs and then he’d head home, but it turned into a couple drinks and by the time he left the bar the street lights had come on and the moon was rising further up into the sky. He could feel the power tingling down his arms and through his fingers. A change he couldn’t control no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t have many options, peeling away from the streets he ducked into an alley to let the wolf take control under the cover of darkness. It wasn’t ideal and the fear of killing someone in the city was ever present in the forefront of his mind while his body shifted and cracked into a monstrous form of broken bones and torn flesh. 

A wolffish creature emerged from where the small human once was, a mind of its own as he scavenged through the dumpsters and garbage that scattered around him. It wasn’t long before it caught the scent of a human walking by. A poor victim for the monstrous beast.the growl that erupted from the back of his throat resonated off the close walls of the alley way, creeping forward as yellow eyes fixated on the now frightened form of a young man. The moment his victim spotted the wolf, he lunged, hackles raised and long teeth the size of kitchen knives tore into soft flesh. It took every ounce of Kits willpower to tear the beast away from the boy before he could mangle the corpse pass recognition. By the time he left, he thought he had killed him, with the amount of blood he left behind. But the wolf wasn’t satisfied, stalking the streets looking for a feast. 

Again, Kit would wake up surrounded by the sickening scent of blood, however instead of the corpse of a cow, it was a person. A man, no older than 35, body torn to pieces, missing a arm. Looking around Kit felt sick to his stomach when he couldn’t find it around the body and assumed the worst. Crawling to the side of the road he retched whatever remained in his stomach. It took a couple more minutes to realize he wasn’t in a pasture or a forest where he wouldn’t be noticed. He was on the corner of a street, a cross walk just a couple feet down from him where he spotted people approaching, someone had already pulled out a cellphone to record. Panic set in, and again butt naked and covered in blood he made a run for it, luckily he was on the edge of town and could cut through the forest to make it back to the farm. Too bad his wolf self didn’t kill that poor sap just a mile down the road. 

By the time he made it back to the farm it was daylight, the farmhands were already out and about and making it to his cabin was no easy feat. The only way without being seen was to go around the homesteaders farm house, where he saw the wife cooking with the tv on through the big bay windows, while hiding in the shrubbery he could hear a loud travel ad for Greece came on, tickets were cheap for economy, and the exhausted and out of ideas Kit, made the decision to grab what little he had and make a beeline out of the country before he could be identified.

PERSONALITY

+ hardworking, passionate, selfless – nervous, impulsive, stubborn

PLAYED BY NOAH. EST. He/Him.

[clnriswood]

ARCHIE ANDREWS X READER

Big Little Town: Part One

Story synopsis: The once young reader used to be best friends with Archie Andrews before her abrupt move from Riverdale following her father’s unexplained passing. Now, years later, she returns to finish high school, only to discover that the young boy she’d once had a crush on is both her neighbor, and a not-so-young boy anymore. Together they re-kindle their friendship (and something more) and uncover the truth behind her father’s death and the return of his killer to Riverdale.

a/n: I’m so so excited to embark on this probably eight part journey! I really hope you’ll stick around for a fic packed with angst and mystery, haha! Please do tell me in the replies if you’d like to be added to a tag list! I’ll be updating as soon as possible. <3

X

It’d been years since she’d set foot in Riverdale. Despite her departure five years ago, the small town hadn’t changed a bit, and apparently neither had the near constant grey cloud cover. It seemed picturesque how quaint yet familiar everything was. The leafy viridescent trees that lined the streets, the tips of the fresh grass that peered out between the cracks in the sidewalks, and the Columbian style houses with their neat lawns and creaky stairs, one set of which the girl currently lurched across. She held a large brown box in her hands; within it were stuffed photographs, candle holders, and whatever other miscellaneous items her mother could cram inside them. As she made her way through the bright red front door, the smell of old wood and must went shooting through her lungs.

“Gee, who lived here before?” she said aloud as her mother followed close behind, setting a box down and staring into the abandoned space.

“A little family,” her mother shrugged, “the Coopers, I think?”

The girl shrugged and blew a piece of hair from her mouth, her muddy converse bringing tracks with her as she roamed the desolate soon-to-be living room.

“Doesn’t sound familiar,” she voiced loudly, seeing how much echo would feed back to her ears.

“They had a girl your age,” her mother continued, adding, “you’re mudding up my floors, honey.”

The girl stopped in her tracks and stared down at her feet, scraping them awkwardly on the edge of the cobblestone fireplace to rid herself of some dirt.

“Betty,” her mother finished. “Her name was Betty.”

“Knock knock!” an airy voice came instantaneously.

The two looked up in surprise, confusion crossing their features as they stared at the girl in the doorway. She had smooth blonde hair that was slicked into a neat ponytail, and her blue eyes were like giant ocean orbs against her pale skin. She wore a pink knit sweater against a white collared shirt, like something out of some horse girl catalogue.

“I’m Betty, actually,” the girl laughed shyly, procuring a bag with the familiar Pop’s Diner logo on it.

The girl raised her brows with surprise, “hi Betty.”

“I heard you guys were moving in today so I thought I’d bring some ‘welcome to Riverdale’ donuts to, you know, say hello,” she continued with a bubbly tone.

The girl, feeling awkward, hung her mouth open, able to only respond again, “hi.”

Her mother hit the girl lightly against the chest with a scoff of embarrassment. She stepped forward and extended a hand to Betty, exchanging the sweet treats for a polite handshake.

“This is my daughter, (Y/N),” she said, “she’ll be starting at Riverdale High soon!”

(Y/N) grumbled quietly to herself, clearly not thrilled at the idea.

“That’s great,” Betty beamed, “I can’t wait to see a new face around!”

“Oh, we actually lived here a few years ago,” the girl’s mother explained. “But we moved away when-”

The words seemed to stop there, getting stuck to her throat like glue. Betty’s blue eyes widened with confusion, so the girl took a nervous step forward and quickly swooped in for her mother.

“We moved away a few towns over, but Riverdale never stopped being home, so we came back in time for my senior year and my mom’s new job.”

“Oh,” Betty’s shoulders relaxed, her ponytail swinging to the side, “that’s great.”

“Yeah,” the girl forced a smile back at her new acquaintance.

“So, is it just you two then, if you don’t mind me asking?” Betty asked.

“Yeah,” the girl took another step, holding her mother’s arm and giving it a light squeeze, “my dad passed away a few years ago.”

Betty seemed weirdly unphased, saying, “mine too.”

“Oh?” she perked up.

“Yeah,” Betty said, more flat now, her blonde brows knitting at the thought of something that troubled her. Then, realizing she’d fallen silent, she beamed again, her glossy pink lips splitting. “It was really nice meeting you both! And (Y/N), I uh, left my phone number on the bag, if you ever want to talk.”

The gesture warmed the girl’s heart, and she smiled, for real this time, seeing the black ink scribbled on the paper.

“Thank you,” her and her mother voiced in unison.

“Of course,” she giggled, “see you soon, I hope.”

As Betty turned, her cute shoes tapping the old floorboards and her ponytail swinging, she waved at someone who was outside. Her voice drifted along behind her as she greeted the girl’s unknown neighbors with a bounce in her step.

“Hey!” she called.

A muffled male voice called back, but despite its, well, muffled-ness, something in it sounded familiar.

“I’ll see you at Pop’s later?!” Betty said from the top of the moss covered stairs, her head turned towards someone that was out of view.

Again, a male voice chortled back a positive reply. This time it sounded even more familiar, and the girl felt a weird tingle in her stomach, unable to place its speaker. But she didn’t have to think very hard about it, for Betty turned, giving her, and her neighbor, one last wave.

“Bye (Y/N), bye Archie!” she said before turning and skipping down the steps.

“Archie?” the girl repeated cluelessly.

And then, practically as the name rolled off her tongue, her heart lurched from up in her chest to down into the floor. Her mother’s eyes widened as they came to a mutual realization, and before the girl could even process the idea, her mother was wagging a finger at her with this huge knowing grin.

“Archie Andrews, that boy you liked in middle school, Archie Andrews?” she smiled wider, going in for one her annoying tickles and sending the girl stumbling backwards.

“Nuh uh,” the girl retorted, turning her head away to hide the visible red that was flooding through her face, “I know plenty of other Archie’s.”

“Ok, name one,” her mother challenged, hands moving to her hips in a very mom like way.

“Archie-” the girl started confidently, but her brain immediately short circuited, “-Andrews, OH MY GOD!” she covered her mouth with her hands and went running to the staircase, her mother yelling indistinguishable mockeries up at her as the girl went bounding up the carpeted stairs two at a time until she reached her white bedroom door. Her hands grabbed the brass handle, turned, and slammed the door behind her with such force that the empty room rattled around her.

Back before she left Riverdale, the red headed boy from her year had been practically the only friend she’d had. Being the weird introvert with the recently deceased father didn’t exactly help her case, making it all the more strange when the popular soon-to-be-jock decided to start trailing by her between classes and in the courtyard, usually followed closely behind by a highly optimistic blonde in a ponytail.

“Betty,” the girl realized, slamming her hands into her forehead when the pieces came together.

Pre-pubescent Archie Andrews was just about as middle school fantasy as it could get for a girl. He had these skinny arms and flashing white teeth, and oh my god did the fiery hair make a statement, the girl recalled. He used to force her to catch footballs with him at lunch, so, in exchange, she’d make him listen to her guitar playing after school while they waited for their parents to arrive. It was a blossoming but short lived friendship, for the death of (Y/N)’s father was followed shortly by her departure from the small town and its small town redhead. But the thought, the actual thought that he was less than sixty seconds from her at this moment, sent a combined panic and excitement through her, one so strong she felt she could throw up. The last time she’d seen Archie was before the summer of eighth grade, when she’d left without telling him she was actually going. Giving the sudden life altering change she was going through, the last thing she could handle was officially departing from the boy she liked. And so she waved at him from her mother’s car, the poor redhead totally oblivious it’d be goodbye forever as he waved back from the sidewalk, clutching the guitar she’d thrust goodbye into his hands.

And now he was right there, right across her window and through to his, she thought, raising her head in despair and feeling her throat tighten at once. Because, sure enough, he was literally right there. Archie was standing upright in his little room, and he was staring directly at the girl with a look of mingled confusion and shock written over his large brown eyes. Except it wasn’t actually Archie, she thought, unable to think a single coherent thought as her gaze fixated on the absolutely jaw dropping man that stood a few dozen feet from her. No, skinny little Archie was not this tall, muscular, sharp jawed creature who wore tight fitting tees that clung to his bronzed god-like chest. No way that was Archie that stood frozen like a mirror image to her. But that hair. That hair. There was absolutely no denying that those fiery locks could belong to anyone but him. These thoughts all took about three second to travel through the girl’s mind, and by the third, she did the only thing she could think of and dropped to the floor.

“Oh my god!” she squealed into the flowery carpet, her nose squashed against it uncomfortably.

“What the hell am I doing?!” she spoke to the floor like it would reply.

Obviously he’d seen her drop dead to the ground, but now that she was here she couldn’t exactly get back up, so she took the only acceptable alternative and just lay there like an idiot. If she waited long enough he was bound to get sick of waiting, right? Feeling her phone buzz against her thigh, she reached her nimble fingers into the back of her jean pocket and procured her phone.

new instagram notification: @archiebandrews has started following you.

“NO!” she screamed at her phone, so loudly there was no doubt Archie himself could hear it from his room.

Archie Andrews would like to send you a message.

This was it. This is how she was going to die.

[ Archie is typing… ]

(Y/N), I know you’re still there.

[ Archie is typing… ]

That floor hasn’t been washed in months.

The girl practically spat the carpet from her mouth, her hair getting tangled as she rolled up from the ground. Feeling like her body was on fire from the blaze in her cheeks, she dragged herself up, crossing her fingers that the boy couldn’t see her rosy flushed face from where he stood. He was closer to his window now, clearly his intrigue had brought him slowly forward. Seeing her rise from the floor like a pathetic phoenix would from the ashes, his brows lifted with a keen curiosity, and he found himself stepping closer yet, so he could get a better look at her. Feeling as though she might as well do the same, the girl approached the dirty glass frame nervously, stopping when her muddy converse touched the walls. Archie Andrews wore dark blue jeans and a loosely tucked white tee that curved around the unfamiliar ripples of his chest. His auburn hair was parted kind of in the middle and kind of to the side, framing his high cheekbones and square jaw handsomely. Some of his red locks fled from the neat array of others, one in particular falling across his forehead and curling attractively upon his defined brows. Everything about him was so different and just so, endearing; even the curvature of his rounded pink lips into their inquisitive half smile. And just as she studied him, he’d studied back.

The last time he’d seen the girl she’d had braces and choppy hair, the result of her hacking relentlessly away at it following her father’s sudden and mysterious passing. She hadn’t grown much height wise, but certainly everything else had. Her long straightened hair lay flat against the curvatures of her now rounded out chest, her cheekbones rested higher on her face in such a way that she possessed an attractive maturity, and her brows and collarbones had a matching sharpness to them that defined her features well. She wore tight fitting light wash jeans, torn patchily at the knees from her own falls, and a black tank top, matched with a chunky black belt similar to the one Archie himself wore around his sturdy hips.

It was...bizarre. It was like they were just recognizable enough to each other to be unmistakable, but also grown enough that it seemed they were like strangers.

It was Archie who finally, after what felt like years but in reality was a few seconds, withdrew his phone. The red headed boy stared intently at his screen, typing away quickly and sending a buzz into the girl’s palm. Broken from her daze, she lifted her phone, seeing on it his invitation to join him and his friends at Pop’s in the evening. She lifted her gaze to the auburn haired boy next door, letting out a long and heavy sigh. Honestly, she’d just gotten here and she wasn’t too good at the socializing thing, but it was impossible to resist those glittering brown eyes. Seeing the doubt playing through her mind, Archie tucked his phone back into his jeans, fingers lingering in his pockets as he softened his expression further.

The boy tilted his head sweetly, mouthing “please?”

The girl’s heart seemed to pound so hard she could feel it smacking around her own chest, and so she nodded reluctantly, parting her lips to say yes but instead finding them hung partially open. And then he cracked that smile, that disgustingly perfect smile with the sharp canines and massive dimples, and she knew: it really was him.

[hopelesslygazingthestars]

Update: A Dance Of Love And Duty

- Engulfed By Dragon Fire

Elia/Rhaegar (+ mentions Elia/Ashara)

Elia Martell was the prized sun of Dorne. Her mother had searched high and low for a match worthy of such light. Yet, as knowledgeable and formidable as the old Princess of Dorne had been, even she could not have predicted that in the Seven Kingdoms only dragon-fire was looked upon.

Elia did not know she could hate a person so much. But she did. She hated her husband.

She hated how he made her feel; how she beamed in the shadows as the Silver Prince defeated Ser Barristan in the final tilt, how she clapped as he looped the crown of winter roses over his lance and started his horse in her direction, and how she bowed as he rode past her.

Her face burned like the feverish Dornish sun in utter humiliation when Rhaegar laid the wreath of flowers onto the lap of Lyanna Stark. He named a maiden barely a woman grown the Queen of Love and Beauty, and with that single act, undid all their months-long efforts to see their ascension to the Iron Throne.

Not only had he insulted her before the lords of Westeros, but simultaneously disrespected the Warden of the North and his own cousin by choosing Robert Baratheon’s betrothed.

However, Elia’s hurt extended beyond the insult given, and the gasps of shock, and the Mad King’s cackling; hers was a breath-taking anguish from broken treaties.

And when the wolf girl accepted the roses, looking as embarrassed as Elia felt, the Dornish princess somehow schooled her pained expression into one of unphased indifference. Despite the boiling in her blood, and the prince inside her that fussed in protest; Elia refused to crumble. She would not prove the lies of Dornish savages right, nor the tales of her unworthiness for the beloved Targaryen prince.

“Are you not furious?”

Oberyn seethed when she fastened her hand around his wrist so tightly that she drew blood. Prince Lewyn and Arthur also had their hands on Oberyn in anticipation, but Elia saw that both men battled their own fury too.

“A fire rages inside me hot enough to make even dragons sweat,” Elia replied lowly as she lifted her chin proudly and kept herself very still, hyper aware of all the eyes watching the commotion at the Stark stands.

She was reminded again that the dragons had engulfed the sun, when she noted that none outside of her own retinue even cared as to observe for her reaction.

“Whatever you would have us do, let me be the first to get my hands on him.” Ashara snarled through gritted teeth.

Although Elia had never felt such a strong desire to kill Rhaegar, to incinerate him from the inside out, violence was not her reaction.

“You will do nothing.”

Oberyn and Ashara’s heads snapped to her in unison, for as hot-tempered and blinded by love as they were, they could not see what Elia knew.

“But-”

“I, and I alone shall deal with my husband.” She spat out the term she once said in endearment.

Tearing her eyes away from the display, she saw Oberyn gauge her before relenting; but Ashara, remained tense like she was contemplating a most terrible act of treason.

“Ser Arthur, please escort Lady Ashara to her quarters.”

“Elia I will not-”

“Immediately.” She commanded.

Arthur all but lifted and dragged Ashara from her side, and luckily, the spitting protests were largely overshadowed by Brandon Stark being physically restrained by his brother and kinsmen.

If Elia once questioned her husband’s affinity for madness, she certainly no longer did now. She thought him absolutely insane, especially when he turned his horse towards her. Whatever act of reconciliation he intended was of no interest to her. She would not give the Westerosi the satisfaction of a reaction, but she also refused to be remembered as having been remotely in favour of Rhaegar’s actions. Thus, heartbeat still thundering in her ears, her hands tightened on the material of her foreign robes, and she turned away just as Rhaegar finally acknowledged her.

The Dornish party followed without instruction. Dorne was a proud kingdom, and a snub to her, was a snub to them all. She walked with a strength her brittle bones had never known, and for the first time, she wore the skin of the Queen she intended to be. Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken.

When she eventually reached her chambers, she noticed the decorated red and black walls, Rhaegar’s beloved harp, dragons on every surface, and yearned to tear it all apart.

“Leave me be.”

Reluctantly, her retinue left, and when the door shut, her resolve collapsed.

Traitorous tears pricked at her eyes and her hands shook violently suppressing a volatile rage. Frantically, she searched for something that might anchor and remind her of home – of her. She laughed bitterly when it dawned that she too – pregnant with his promised prince – was a belonging of Rhaegar Targaryen.

She grabbed the closest item to her, ironically, a vase of winter roses, and with all her strength heaved it at the window. It shattered on impact and splinters embedded into her palm. Staring down at the crystalline glass pieces smeared by blood, they almost appeared like rubies.

The crimson mess reminded her of the fateful prophetic dream which had led her to Rhaegar. Fantasies in which she accepted offerings of dripping rubies and winter roses. Elia cursed Nymeria’s gifts and the gods that had carved out a life of failed promises. A suffocating darkness swirled in the pit of her stomach, for she knew, as minor as Rhaegar’s actions were, they were the beginning of something far worse. She knew with vivid clarity that if he humiliated her once, he would do it again.

Still, she could not decide which pain was worse – the public embarrassment or the private heartbreak. She did not care so much if he thought the Stark girl more beautiful, or even wished to bed her, but their marriage was a political identity separated from such sundry as personal feelings. Elia was his lawfully wedded wife, his queen-to-be, and mother of his heirs and with that single act he had threatened her position.

Granted, their marriage had not been without its challenges, but not even the worst fights ever made her feel so violated, betrayed, and so completely debased.

Elia was bought out of her musings when she heard raised voices from beyond the door. She did not need to open it to know it was Rhaegar and Ashara.

“Is this not exactly what you wanted?!”

“Do you expect me to thank you for this-”

Elia opened the door, and both sets of purple eyes turned to her. She found it strange how despite being such similar shades, violet orbs filled her with life, and indigo ones, with vitriol.

“I just wanted to make sure you were…” Ashara divulged, noticing her bleeding hand.

Ashara turned sharply, but Arthur appeared suddenly, and grabbed her wrist before she could throw a fist. She struggled against him and only calmed when Elia’s voice sounded.

“Asha, I’m alright, you don’t need to lose your decency over this,” she answered, voice wavering.

Ashara gave her a once over, before searching her eyes for the truth.

Elia could not find it in herself to smile, no matter how pleased she was that Ashara had remained loyal despite everything she put her through.

The white cloak put her down, but his grip on her wrist did not falter.

“I do need you to do something for me, however…”

“Anything.”

“…call upon lady Lyanna.”

Ashara looked like everything in her wanted to protest but she simply nodded, and Elia closed the door to address her husband.

Before she could unleash hell-fire upon him, he pulled them together into a tight embrace. She felt overheated and suffocated in his arms rather than comforted, and she knew that was exactly what he attempted to do.

“Listen to me.” It came out hard, and Elia felt his words in her body.

Where her heart once skipped a beat at his meagre affection, now it repulsed her, and she forced herself from his grip.

“Elia, wife, I know what it looks like, but I couldn’t explain –”

“No. I deserve an explanation for this. Explain why you have insulted and humiliated me for all the realm to see! Where is the husband that rallied against his King and father in defence of his family, where is that man?”

Passing her for Lyanna was a public message that Elia was lacking in his eyes and validated the anti-Dornish sentiments of everyone who thought her unworthy of Rhaegar. Worse still, she knew his display damaged her place in their future court, because Rhaegar’s snub reinforced the insult Aerys dealt her at Rhaenys’ presentation. She wanted to know what was so worth besmirching her dignity.

“I am right here, except –” he implored, but she was firm in her resolve.

For so long, she had withered away in his shadow, hoping to secure their future. Yet, that was not who she was raised to be, and formerly-quelled Martell fire returned anew.

“I want to know why.” Her voice was steel made sound.

He gestured for her to come, but she would not, and resignedly he moved to her, hand reaching for her swollen belly, then for her injured hand. Again and again, she jerked away from his touch. Rhaegar had a history of adeptly slithering his way out of strife and into her heart and she refused to be disarmed by tender touches or conciliated by soft words.

Elia glared at him with chilly hostility, until her ice extinguished his fire, and he relented.

“I met her for the first time on the search for the Knight of the Laughing Tree. I thought I had found him, and when I unmasked the perpetrator, it was her…” he explained.

Rhaegar’s search last several days and now that Elia knew he was with her, she wondered just what had developed.

“... she surprised me. She is strong and wilful, even in the face of me and…”

Despite the situation, Elia could hear the warmth in his voice and her blood ran cold. It was one thing that he might wish Lyanna his mistress, it was another that he might wish her in his heart. Especially, when Elia had cut away pieces of herself so that she could fit in there.

“…she had noble reasons for entering the lists, and performed so valiantly I didn’t think it fair that she not be recognised somehow. I only wished to honour her.”

“By dishonouring me,” she concluded.

“That was never my intent.”

“And yet that was the result.”

She knew Rhaegar believed her naïve to the great lords of Westeros, but Elia could see greater than he, the precarious position they were in, and she saw the iron throne melting beneath them. That he could be so short-sighted vexed her.

“Your actions will not be received well by court, and we can probably kiss goodbye to any great council without Lord Stark or Robert, likely Jon Arryn too.” She commented.

“I can make amends,” he insisted adamantly.

Elia sighed deeply, and ran her hands through her hair, attempting to preserve the churning anger within. She was not satisfied with his answers, and she understood her husband well enough to know when he placated her with half-truths. Rhaegar was not dumb and yet he made an extremely ill-advised decision. He broke chivalric code and alienated two paramount families in one stroke, it was an insult to her and to the perceived honour of Lyanna. Despite all these considerations, Rhaegar still chose to do it. Elia wondered if Rhaegar’s actions were actually designed to appeal directly to Lyanna herself, and that painted everything in a new light.

“Do you love her?”

There was something about the mere mention of Lyanna which lit up his face in a way that nothing else ever did, and Elia knew the answer, even if he did not yet.

“I love our family,” he answered, moving closer.

There was no true love between them, and Elia was exhausted of pretending otherwise, to him, and to herself.

“That’s not what I asked… do you love Lyanna?”

Silver brows knotted in confusion and she simply observed, willing him to say the words.

“Why – so you can run back to Ashara?” He snapped.

Before she could stop herself, she slapped his face, causing him to double over. She knew it wrong to strike her husband, her future king, but that he even attempted to drag Ashara’s name into it enraged her. More than that, she wanted him to feel a fraction of the pain she had endured.

“I did everything you asked! I have given you everything, and yet again I am left with nothing but hurt!”

Her chest burned, searing flames of betrayal and shame engulfing her because she hated that it affected her so, because it meant that somehow, she still loved him, despite no longer wanting to.

“I know, I didn’t m–”

Elia was tired of giving to a man that took her for granted, and always loved something else more; and left her with nothing but measly scraps. However, she would not allow him to rob her of the last thing she had left, her voice.

“I sacrificed for the future of your family name because that’s what you needed. I abandoned my home, my traditions AND Ashara because that’s what you asked…”

She had done the impossible and pushed away the person she loved the most. For too long, she endured dragon-fire and now that she was nearly ash, her own inferno awakened.

“I did EVERYTHING. I gave up my body for you despite –”

Her voice faltered when old resentments surfaced.

“Despite what?”

“Despite the child that died in my body for me to mourn alone.”

He looked back at her with surprise and an expression akin to shame washed over him. His actions had broken the unbreakable and he did not even know it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was a whisper.

For a moment, his indigo irises looked so haunted Elia almost felt remorse for informing him so callously.

She laughed hollowly, dark and filled with resentment.

“You know why.”

And he did. His silence told as much. She would have been cast aside for a mistress sooner.

He reached for her swollen stomach, and this time, she allowed the caress. Inside her, the babe kicked hard. So hard it made her wince. Rhaegar felt it on his hand, and maneuvered to his knees, resting his hands and head on her belly.

Elia looked away, resigned to the inevitable. She did not want him manipulating her into remembering feelings she would rather forget.

“I’m sorry Elia.”

What he was sorry for, Elia did not know, but she nodded and said nothing more.

She distanced herself, and when she met his pensive gaze, translucent eyes swirled with some realisation. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly, before syllables formed.

“This means – he could – he is th–”

“If you mention your damned prophecy right now, I swear by the gods I will scream bloody murder Rhaegar.”

Once she recovered from rehashed emotions, she found herself burned out. They stood on opposite ends of their chambers staring at each other like strangers.

Elia breathed hard, her eyes watery, and hands balled into fists. Rhaegar hung his head low in shame, looking guilty and afraid.

“Love, I can forgo, but I demand your respect, Rhaegar.”

“I would give you both. What can I do to mend us?” His tone was pleading.

However, Elia was well past giving him the benefit of the doubt. Rhaegar had broken her trust for the last time.

In that moment, Furiosa haunted her, making her remember her duty to Dorne.

‘You must ensure your husband sits that throne and that your children do after him… Do not let yourself be duped... And if something needs to be said, do not hesitate to speak for yourself.’

Elia was not so young as to forget the explicitly anti-Dornish Blackfyre rebellions, nor how a noble-mothered bastard could pose a threat to Dornish-blooded monarchs. Elia needed to hold onto Rhaegar no matter how much she despised him.

“If a mistress it what you so desire then seek whoever you wish, discreetly, but I beg you, not Lyanna... and not until you have fulfilled your bargains to me.”

Elia carried another child, despite her health, and pushed Ashara away as he had asked. Now it was his turn to make her a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Her gaze pierced into him and he shifted uncomfortably under it.

“Rhaegar.” She prompted.

His reluctance told her everything she needed to know. Rhaegar loved Lyanna. Yet, if she had sacrificed her heart for him, it was only fair that he do the same.

“Very well. Your wish is my command.”

[softjeon]

Here there be beasts | Pt.1

• Pairing: Jimin x Wolf!Namjoon • Genre: Angst, Fluff | Rating: Mature | RedRidingHood!AU / Fairytale!AU  → Gifset Trailer • Words: 9k | AO3 • Disclaimer: nsfw-content, smut, mentioning of blood, abuse, violence, weapons, dark themes, anxiety

written with @cassiavioletblue​

↳  Fear was a strange feeling. People feared the unknown, the dark and witchcraft. The shadows that were lurking through the forest at night. The same fear that made the folks in the village keep their distance from the forest at night; that locked their doors on nights when there was a full moon, or no moon at all.

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Fear was a strange feeling. People feared the unknown, the dark and witchcraft. The shadows that were lurking through the forest at night. They told them stories about the witches, ghosts and hungry, lusting wolves that were sent to let them pay for their sins. They casted out those who were a little too strange to be one of them. “To keep us safe,” The pastor spoke and as a little child, Jimin had nodded with big eyes. The same fear that made the folks in the village keep their distance from the forest at night; that locked their doors when there was a full moon, or no moon at all.

On this morning, Jimin found himself standing at the edge of the forest, looking up at the wall that surrounded the village. Carefully, he pushed back the hood of his deep red cloak and looked over his shoulder back into the forest. He saw nothing except the trees and plants of the forest reflecting the dimming light of the setting sun. There was nothing else. Nothing that he feared. It was getting dark and from where he stood, Jimin could hear the bell signaling everyone to lock themselves in their homes but strangely, Jimin wasn’t afraid.

He had seen the horrors with his own eyes. The wounds on the dead bodies that they found in the morning. Sometimes they were brave young men seeking out to find the evil. But other times it was them, who had pushed the crying woman into the forest at night and finding her dead the next morning. There were rules to stick by, to shut the lights off early, to never go into the forest at night and to be back by the bell sound every night. With a sigh, Jimin walked up the hill and towards the village again when he heard his name being called out.

“Jimin! Are you completely out of your mind?” Someone shouted at him, but Jimin just rolled his eyes. He’d always recognized the voice. The grip on his arm made him walk a little faster, stumbling after the taller man. Jimin gazed up at him. He was handsome, exuding a certain magnetism that made women and men alike fall for him in a matter of seconds. Only it didn’t work with himself. Hosung had a muscular body, strong chin and full lips and eyes so blue that Jimin sometimes wondered if they were see-through. He didn’t like it. Others thought it was a gift, making him more God-Like. And Jimin had to fight the urge to not cough on instinct. Hosung was noble, a hunter and loved by everyone in the village. Jimin was everything but.

And yet, destiny had brought them together - that’s what they said and told each other. Jimin didn’t believe in bullshit like that.

“You’re hurting me, Hosung.” Jimin pulled his arm away and wiped over where he had gripped him, stomping ahead just in time for the heavy doors to be closed behind them. “I wouldn’t have needed to drag you all the way if you would stop coming back from the forest at the ass crack of twilight! How am I supposed to protect you and keep you save if you walk...walk around like this?” He pulled at Jimin’s cloak, making him take a step back. “I told you not to go into the forest alone. Do you want to be attacked by the werewolf next? Do you want to be ripped into pieces?” His voice got louder but Jimin didn’t care if people stared at them, they would be gone soon, locked behind their doors, too afraid of their own lives being taken. Hosung caught his wrist again, pulling him inside his own house. It was almost melodic how he locked them up, every single metal clicking into place. Like a weird melody.

 “It was a gift from my mom!” Jimin hissed back at him. She had given it to him when he was too young to understand, to fascinated by her stories and how she had woven magic into it. Jimin had pleaded her to whisper ‘protection spells’ into the soft fabric every time, thinking it would keep him safe. And she only had laughed, giving him a kiss. He knew magic wasn’t real.

The village didn’t. They believed it and they had punished her. Jimin could remember it vividly and it made him shutter in repressed memory.

“Your mother is gone, Jimin.” Hosung reached out for his hands softly and Jimin felt frozen on the spot. “She was a witch and you know that. It was best to keep us all safe. And now it is my duty to keep you safe as well. They have chosen me to protect you so please listen to my demand.” His eyes softened, “We will be on the hunt soon again. The wolf can’t hurt you as long as you do what I say, do you hear me? I will find evil and I will keep us all safe.”

Jimin’s bottom lip trembled as he pulled his hand away, walking over to the locked door to unlock every single one again. “We’re not married, Hosung and there hadn’t been an attack in years! I can protect myself,” Jimin spat back at him, pushing open the door as he stumbled outside, pulling the cloak a little tighter around himself. He could still hear him shouting for him, telling him to go die then without him (he would probably come around with gifts the next morning again to apologize), and the eyes that followed his figure from the windows, until he reached his own home. Jimin didn’t lock the doors. He wasn’t afraid.

The wolf couldn’t hurt him as long as he wore the cloak, that’s what he knew was true. He believed his mother and his grandma. Because they knew the truth.

...

The first time he had seen the wolf was when he was afraid. Every week, his mother was gone to bring food that their grandma needed to the other end of the forest. It was always just them: his mother, grandma and Jimin. People had always found them weird.

When Jimin had gotten the cloak, his mother told him to bring the basket to his grandma for the first time. It was his turn now. And she had reminded him of the hunters that would be out in a few hours but Jimin had been so afraid to step into the woods that it took him too long to get in. What if what they told was true? But his mother came back safely every time? When he took the first step in, Jimin shuddered and then he ran all the way through the woods, holding onto the basket tightly.

On his way back, he heard the cries of the dogs, the horses that were trampling the earth and Jimin had run in fear of them seeing him. No one was allowed in the forest, whenever there were hunters. The sun was setting low and Jimin had to be back until the bells would ring. He needed to be quick. So, he ran as fast as he could, finding somewhere to hide behind a fallen tree stump to keep himself out of sight. He had pulled his knees in, shaking, pushing a hand over his mouth to keep from whimpering when he saw him for the first time.

 The wolf. But it was nothing like he imagined, or the people told him.

The dark orbs of his eyes were glistening in the sun, as the wolf kept his head and body low. Jimin could see that he was young, too young to be alone. Just like him. And strangely, he wasn’t scary, nor was Jimin afraid of him. Carefully, Jimin pushed a finger onto his lips, motioning for the young wolf to keep down and quiet as their gazes met. The young boy just stared at him motionless, before he flinched when he could hear the barks coming closer. Somehow, he knew they must have scented the wolf. The hunters were coming closer, cheering and Jimin panicked. If he stayed, they would find him...him and the wolf.

“It must be close,” A rough voice said, followed by a chuckle as he stretched his bow, searching over the meadow to find what he was looking for. With shaking limbs, Jimin stood up an turned to look at the man. Their eyes widened at what their dogs must have scented. It wasn’t a wolf, nor a wild boar.

“It is the strange woman’s kid.”

Jimin yelped from how hard he was getting gripped on his arm. He was taken home that day and his mother had cried in sheer happiness to have her son back, but he was still staring at the forest, feeling a little dazed, while they made up a story about how they saved him just in time before the wolf could take his soul.

They had cheered and celebrated the victory of the hunters and only now did Jimin see the tears on his mother’s eyes. He followed her gaze, when it met the head of a wolf. Blood was oozing out of the wound, falling onto the earth below tinting the green red. Gasping for air, Jimin hid in his mother’s hold - but it wasn’t a young wolf. Not the one he had seen.

Jimin could feel his mother shiver, her eyes sorrowful as she whispered something he couldn’t understand. She was about to pull her son away from the cheering village, when the hunter grabbed her arm to make her stay. “Your son is forever in our debt. The forest has spoken, and it is now my duty to protect him, woman. You don’t have a husband, do you. Don’t worry, witch.” The man reeked of alcohol and Jimin scrunched up his nose, flinching when his mother tightened her hold around his hand, squeezing it so it almost hurt. Jimin wanted to punch the man, tell him to get away and not call his mother a witch. But he kept quiet. Just like his mother had told him many times.

...

Jimin had never been afraid again to go into the dark woods. He just pulled his cloak over his head and walked on with a steady heartbeat. He didn’t fear anymore. Not a ghost, witch or wolf. He only feared the village, the one place that had taken so much from him. Pulling his blanket, a little more over his face, Jimin curled in on his bed, trying to find a comfortable position to fall asleep in, but his mind kept spiraling. “They can’t hurt you in the forest. It will protect you.” His mother's words recalled into his mind before she had been dragged away from him. They were shouting at her. Calling her a witch. “There are bad wolves here, in this town. Don’t be afraid, my love.”

 Jimin had seen the wounds and he had seen the wolf. But he kept his mouth shut. Every year and with every victim, Jimin began to realize it wasn’t witchcraft or the moon that made someone do this. The folks avoided him anyways, even though they talked about him as the ‘witch kid’, the one who almost got into the fangs of the wolf. But as he grew older people began to really look at him. They started to call him pretty and elegant and Jimin wondered what had changed. Sometimes he stared at his reflection in the lake, but it gave him no answers, but that people were simply superficial and loved to talk. About him, the witches and how he had been saved from the fangs of evil. The one that got away, saved by the hunter and now would be promised to his son, because beauty was what the wolf was after.

Young, flawless and beautiful. And only a true hunter could protect him. Jimin scoffed at that.

If they only knew how the wolf didn’t even came close to him. Jimin hadn’t seen him again for a long time and even though he kept his eyes out for him, he never spotted the dark wolf. Not today, or the week before. He only hoped that nothing had happened, or he had moved deeper into the forest, somewhere where they couldn’t find him.

He didn’t want him to get hurt.

Jimin was just about to close his eyes, when a scream pierced through the night that made him shiver and let the cold seep into his bones. Eyes wide, Jimin got up from the bed and ran outside. There were people running in all directions, crying out and Jimin pushed through the people, when he found where the scream had come from.

Hosung was already there, holding the almost lifeless women in his hands and Jimin jolted forward. “She’s still breathing!” Hosung cried out for a doctor and Jimin stumble a little closer, holding the poor girl. Carefully, Jimin pushed a strand of her from her distorted face. There was blood, lots of it and scratches over her face and chest. Her clothes were torn and her eyes…

Jimin gulped heavily. “She will lose her sight and…” Jimin soothed her quietly, when he saw something that let all color fade from his face. “Th-they ripped out her tongue.” With shaking hands, he held onto the woman’s head, tears rolling down his cheeks as Hosung moved to give the doctor room. Jimin was still on the ground, knees too wobbly to move. He barely heard what Hosung was shouting about, but it made him flinch.

There hadn’t been an attack for a long time. Why now? What had changed?

“The wolf will pay for this! And you can be sure that he will not be shot with a bow but share the same fate as all of ours. He will bleed for what he had done!” The church was ringing it bells and Jimin pushed his hands over his ears, smearing blood all over his cheeks with it. “I’ll keep you safe,” There was a voice whispering into his ear, but Jimin didn’t look up but followed the push into whatever direction. He didn’t register it, when Hosung cleaned him up, soothed over his skin or tugged him in again. It felt like time was moving too fast. He could still hear her scream piercing through the night. Jimin was moving, but he wasn’t controlling his limbs anymore. “I promise to find the wolf.” His eyes flickered to Hosung, who seemed so sure about it, so certain that the wolf had been bewitched to punish them for sins. Something was awfully wrong. Why now, why here, why them? He had so many questions, but no one to answer them for him.

“H-How...b-but a wolf can’t…” Jimin got shushed by a kiss and he kept quiet - again.

…

The following morning people were gathered around the church, voices mixing together, fear was lying heavy in the air. Jimin was certain if he reached out right now, he could feel it. They had been so happy for a long time, it felt like normal before...he had forgotten how it was to live in fear. He could see Hosung from where he stood. He was dressed in his leather attire, surrounded by a group of hunters, while the pastor tried to calm the village, making them confess their sins, telling them about how the wolf was just the devil dressed up. Jimin was shaking from the cold that surrounded them. He had visited the young girl this morning, had seen the outcome of the attack. She couldn’t speak, nor see and was shaking from fear whenever someone touched her. It was hell. This right here was hell, not whatever was waiting for them in the forest.

Hosung’s gaze met his and Jimin tried a smile, trying to keep him where he was. He didn’t want to talk. Not with him. Jimin turned around and got out his cloak to put it over his shoulders. Just as he was about to pull the hood over his head, he got stopped. “Where do you think you’re going?” Hosung’s voice was low as he stood tall in front of him and Jimin simply took a little turn, but of course he wasn’t having any of it. “I asked you something, Jimin.”

“Grandma,” Jimin looked up at him and held up the basket, “She asked me to bring her bread from the baker. And I need some herbs for medicine...for the girl. Now, please let me through.” Hosung didn’t move, so Jimin simply pushed past him but he was held back. “They don’t attack in broad daylight. I’m fine, now let me…” Jimin pleaded. He didn’t want to be in the village right now. Not with the people in uproar and the images of the girl in mind who had been attacked like that. He needed to get away, to find answers. Something. Anything to make sense of it.

“Baby listen to me,” Hosung pulled him in and Jimin wasn’t prepared for the impact of the hard leather but he didn’t move. “I like you next to me, Jimin. I want to marry you soon and I know this scares you just as much,” Hosung hugged him a little tighter, making him unable to speak. “But I can’t be looking out for you if you keep on running. Maybe we should bring your grandma back into the village?” Jimin pulled off him with a little push but acted out a soft smile. There was only one way to get of Hosung quickly. “She wouldn’t want that. Let me bring her the bread and I’ll go right back, I promise.” Jimin leaned in, his hand wandering up the hunter’s neck until he could brush through his hair and his lips against the soft skin of his cheek. “I’ll promise to stay tonight with you...so you can protect me, but the people need you right now and I promised to bring fresh herbs to help the wound. It’s what we do, right? Together we take care of them.” Hosung bloomed under his attention and it was almost like he stood a little taller. “Yes, we’re good together.” He kissed Jimin on his cheek and finally let him go.

…

Namjoon was restless.

He knew he should stay at home, maybe take a little nap but there was so much chaos around him it made him dizzy. The smell of blood made him growl and he trotted a little faster, but he couldn’t get rid of it. it was everywhere, sickeningly sweet and tainted with bitter violence. They were angry, the people behind the wall. And even though he didn’t understand much of what was happening behind those thick walls he knew enough to feel like there was a storm brewing. They might come after him, just like they had done so many years before when they had killed his mother. The searing pain had turned into a dull ache over the years, but it had never fully healed, knowing that they had hunted her down and ripped off her head to bring it back into the city like a trophy, as if it was something good, something worth celebrating. He hated those humans, hated them with a passion that burned hotter than fire and more persistent than any other feeling he knew. It was always there, since that night. Speaking of humans…

He sniffed the air and then growled dangerously as he ducked, waiting for whoever dared to walk through his forest to show up.

Jimin sneaked out without being seen effortlessly. He had done it a million times before. With his basket in hand, he pulled his cloak a little further over his face before vanishing into the thicket of the woods, running as fast as he could and away from the village until he could barely hear the ringing sounds of their bells anymore. Jimin was panting, eyes searching the calm around him. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of the woods before walking in deeper. However just because no villager saw him didn’t mean that he wasn’t watched at all. To Namjoon the younger’s light steps where as clear as someone trampling loudly through the forest. He could hear every snap of every twig that Jimin stepped on, hear his harsh breath that sounded foreign in the woods. Even the forests silence revealed Jimin’s presence to him because the birds stopped singing for a while whenever Jimin passed them as he was an intruder, a possible danger even though the human himself didn’t feel any of that.

Jimin hadn’t lied, when he had told Hosung that he would search for some herbs, something that the doctor needed to soothe the pain of the young woman’s scars. He stayed on the path for a while, cloak flowing around him with how fast he was going. The hunters would be preparing their horses soon, wanting to seek and chase evil right before dawn, so Jimin needed to be quick if he wanted to bring his grandmother some bread as well. Even though that had been a lie, Jimin would never not go by to see if she was alright. She was old, barely able to get up on her own and she was almost blind. But she managed and it was a miracle to Jimin. He couldn’t wait to see her, but he needed to find something else first.

Coming to an abrupt halt, Jimin listened closely but he couldn’t hear anything but his own rapid heart beating before he simply took a sharp turn. He strayed from the path, pushing through the thicket, to get deeper into the forest’s heart. If he believed his grandmother, which he always did, then he would only find the herbs deeper.

The wolf followed him and when the forest finally revealed the humans shape his heart stuttered in his chest. He wore a red cloak and Namjoon shivered with excitement - and nervousness. No one knew his secret. No one but a woman who had worn a red cloak. This wasn’t her though, it didn’t smell familiar. Or… maybe it did. Like something from a dream, ages ago. A little different.

Only a few villagers dared to go into the woods, even during the daylight but if they did they always stayed on the path. It was like an unwritten rule that no one dared to break. So Namjoon knew it was safe to walk around because no one would see him as long as he kept himself hidden from where they walked. Except that this one didn’t even hesitate before stepping off the path and right into the mossy forest. Namjoon gasped in shock. But the human didn’t stop, getting more determined with each step. The forest seemed to close in on Jimin, barely any light was coming through and he stopped. His gaze kept wandering around, as he finally came to a halt by a clearing, trying to find what he was looking for. Placing the basket down, Jimin blinked when a single ray of sunshine peeked through a hole in the crown of the tree. He looked up, pulling back the hood, so he could let his skin soak in the bit of warmth. It felt like a stolen moment. One that only he existed in, as he closed his eyes and a smile pulled at his lips.

HIs heart beat loudly in his chest as he followed the boy with careful steps. He was tense as a bow string, ready to jump and run if the other made a wrong move because who knew what else he was brave enough to do, if he strayed from the path so carelessly. He wondered what the human might be doing, and he thought of everything from Jimin hiding a secret stash of gambling money in the woods to him trying to get rid of evidence that had something to do with all the blood and chaos that he had smelled this morning. He had expected something, dark, mysterious, maybe evil - so it hit him completely unprotected when he other pulled down his hood, blinking contently into the sun while bathing in its light like a forest bird or house cat.

Not only his behaviour stunned Namjoon - also that the human was remarkably beautiful. He had soft hair that fell in loose strands into his eyes, bright eyes that the sun illuminated in a way that made them shine like gemstones. He had full cheeks that spoke of softness and youth and it would have made him look carefree if there hadn’t been something in his face or maybe his eyes that spoke of loneliness and distant pain. And last, his lips. Namjoon had never seen such a pretty mouth before. They looked pillowy and he couldn’t tear his gaze from them, wondering how they might feel against his fingertips (he didn’t dare to think of anything more).

Jimin sighed, feeling the tiredness in his limbs. He hadn’t slept all night, the horrors keeping him awake. And honestly Hosung breathing into his neck did its part as well. He shivered, wiping over his neck, before he tried to regain his focus.

Jimin began to search carefully, eyes fixated on the ground as he was looking for a particular plant, hoping he would recognize it from his grandmother's description that he had given him. Biting his lip in concentration, Jimin kneeled down to reach for a plant, letting it’s leaves soothe over his skin.

Namjoon ducked when Jimin got closer to the ground, as if he was under the younger’s spell - and maybe he was because instead of doing the safe thing and walking away he stayed, waiting, watching, trying to find out who that boy was and what he was doing.

Jimin pursed his lips into a pout as he tried to decipher if this was the plant he was searching for but honestly, the more he was staring at it the more confused he felt. He whined quietly, falling back onto his bottom as he sat in the middle of the meadow, looking around all these different kind of herbs. Should he just pluck one out of everything? The doctor should know what would be helpful right? But what if one was poisonous? Jimin wanted to help so badly, but he couldn’t ask for his grandma to come with him nor anyone else. No one would stray from the path like he did. Everyone else was afraid, rather risking death of one of theirs.

Namjoon waited but the human just sat there. looking at the plants around him as if he waited for them to talk to him. He reached out for one of them, hesitating before putting his hand back down without having plucked anything and so it finally clicked. He was trying to find a plant. Or several ones. But he wasn’t sure if what he had in front of him was the right thing. It had been a long, long while since Namjoon had talked to anyone but the old woman who lived in his forest (and she couldn’t see very well so she wasn’t a danger to him) but that pretty boy lost in the woods piqued his interest. And suddenly he felt reckless enough to risk something. Maybe it was the strange atmosphere and all that tension that came from the village that made him feel like he had to do something or maybe it was just the other’s beauty drawing him in, whoever it was Namjoon wanted to talk to him. So, he withdrew, searching for a spot where he could turn in peace (it wasn’t exactly quiet to change your form, it was painful and exhausting) and while he walked he tried to justify his recklessness. He could ask the boy what had been happening last night, find out if the villagers were planning anything. Knowledge was power. So, he needed as much knowledge as he could get if he wanted to live his life in peace.

Jimin just simply started to pluck a few plants that he deemed to be fitting the description he was given. The rest he would figure out later. He was humming to himself quietly, not really caring about the time or when he had to go back. Jimin felt safe here and absolutely content as he began to collect a few flowers for a bouquet. He was almost done, tying it with a small ribbon he still found in his basket, when he noticed something different. Jimin maybe didn’t notice an animal of the forest sneaking up on him, but he wasn’t dumb either. He completely stilled in his movements, eyes wide as he listened carefully, jerking when a branch was breaking under the weight of something. Something that couldn’t be an animal. Jimin tried to move slowly, pulling his cloak a little more over his shoulders. Nothing could hurt him, not as long as he was wearing the red hood. 

Running back to turn and get clothes didn’t take him more than a few minutes. He was fast in his wolf form, running like the wind, completely silent. It was a whole different story when he was in human form. Even though he was living as a human and a wolf equally he felt more comfortable in wolf. He didn’t fall over his paws, he was quick, efficient, dangerous. As a human however he could be almost clumsy. So, it didn’t surprise him that Jimin noticed him before he had even reached him on his way back.

There was something, or someone. He could feel it coming closer. In his mind, Jimin counted down, before he jerked around, his heart skipping several beats as he gasped so loudly that it echoed through the woods. He was ready to run the second his gaze would meet…

He blinked his eyes, mouth hanging open, completely frozen as he stared at another human. Jimin had imagined anything…but not a human. Not someone…like him. Someone beautiful. Someone who didn’t wear the ugly dark clothes the people from the village wore. In fact, Jimin didn’t recognize him at all. His heart picked up speed. He gulped heavily, taking another step back while his gaze kept wandering from his head to his bulky, muscular chest and arms to his thick thighs. His mouth suddenly felt awfully dry as he opened it to say something, but he didn’t get that far. His eyes had been stuck on the stranger, not noticing the thick root pushing through the earth behind him.

Namjoon was trying to look as ‘human’ and ‘normal’ as possible, doing his best to seem nice and harmless but before he could impress the other with his ‘normal, human’ words their greeting turned into a mess. The boy turned towards him gracefully, however, there was a root he didn’t notice and as it looked like he might fall over it Namjoon reached for him to keep him from falling - which had the other flinch back and fall with just a little more force. Namjoon internally groaned. He stopped a little before the other who looked up at him with wide eyes and slightly parted lips, a look that was a little too delicious to be fair. “Are you okay?”

Jimin gulped heavily, as his eyes wandered up to look at the human. Was this the evil everyone was talking about? Would it lure him in and kill him? Jimin startled even more when the human so nonchalantly spoke to him in a voice that had him shiver. “W-who are you?” He was still lying awkwardly on the ground, trying to get away from the thick root without leaving him out of sight.

Namjoon furrowed his brows. “I’m Namjoon”. He answered truthfully. The other still hadn’t made a move to get up again. “And you are getting yourself wet if you stay on that grass. Are you okay? Did you hurt your ankle?”

Jimin’s heart was beating rapidly fast against his chest as he tried to get up, mumbling something about not being hurt, when he felt a sudden grip around his wrist. “It’s okay…I…” Jimin let out a yelp. The nice thing was helping that human up and so Namjoon did - but he hadn’t had contact with any of them for a while and so he heavily miscalculated Jimin’s weight, sending the boy flying against him. He wrapped his arms around the other out of instinct, surprised how perfectly he fitted against his body. This close he could feel the other’s heartbeat against his own skin, and it was a strangely intoxicating feeling. The other was so alive and yet so vulnerable…

“T-thank you…can you ehm…,“ Jimin stood frozen, panting and his eyes wide not daring to move. Only slowly and warily, he got out of his arms, putting enough space between them to feel a little safer again. With an awkward smile, he pulled his cloak a little more over his shoulders again. “You’re not from the village, are you? Did you get lost?” He cocked his head aside, trying to see through the strange human and if he meant danger for him. His clothes were simple, but nothing he knew that came from the sewers of his village. “You…you shouldn’t stray from the path.”

Namjoon watched the other get a few steps back again and took that as a sign to do that as well. He didn't want to violate any social rules that would out him as an outsider. But maybe him living in the woods would make for some excuses to he didn’t made up some backstory that he was a traveler from somewhere else but instead stuck with the truth. “I’m not lost, and I know this woods. You are the one straying. So, I wondered why. Do you need something? I might be able to help.”

“Y-you know these woods?” Jimin looked at the other in disbelief. He had been around this forest for so long and never seen the other but then again: he had never reached the end of it no matter how hard he had tried before and mostly kept on the path. Of course, Jimin had tried to run before, but he always ended back in the village. The path was like a loop, as if the forest didn’t want to let him go. In a way, Jimin was too scared, even though he knew the wolf wouldn’t attack him. Not as long as he wore the red hood.

“I…I was searching for some herbs and I know I could only find them here.” Jimin pointed at his basket. “I didn’t know someone else lived out here…I thought it was just my grandma,” He reached out for the herbs he had plucked and held them out for Namjoon to take. “I need something to prevent a blood poisoning and to heal deep cut wounds faster.”

“Your grandma? You’re the little kid...” His eyes widened when it finally clicked. The boy, that’s why he seemed so familiar… His face, the cloak... he had seen him again, just a long time ago. He stared at the other, trying to find the little child from back then in him and when you knew what you were looking for you could find hints; the fullness of his lips, the softness of his eyes… “Damn, you matured beautifully!”

Jimin’s smile faded away, when Namjoon stared at him and confusion washed over his expression. “I… what?” He furrowed his brows, holding onto the herbs a little tighter, “What do you mean with…with that? Do I know you?”

“No, no, you don’t, I’m sorry.” Namjoon dropped his head, trying not to be creepy which apparently he had done a great job at being so far. “I just know your grandma. I visit her sometime. Not very often but... as we both live her we have some kind of neighbourly relationship. And she has that picture of you. As a child.” He couldn’t exactly tell Jimin ‘I watched you walking through the woods when you were a child and you saw me in my wolf form’ so he was glad that there was an easy explanation for his remark. Because his grandma did keep a picture of him at her home. He had always found it strange considering she could barely see but she had told him that just knowing it was there and being able to take it in hand was a comfort for her.

To say he was absolutely confused would have been an understatement. “She never told me,” Jimin pursed his lips into a pout, trying to roam in his memories if his grandma ever told him about the man but he couldn’t find anything. But if it was true, then the stranger was trustworthy. “Then I take that as a compliment,” A light blush appeared on his cheeks and Jimin hastily pushed out his basket again. “So, do you know if those are the right ones? I really need to know…”

“Yes, I can help you.” He kneeled down, quickly and efficiently sorting through the herbs and gathering the right ones into little bundles. He told Jimin their Latin names but the other didn’t look as if he knew what to make of that. “You are not very well versed in herbology are you?” He finally asked, wonder in his tone. “Why did they send you out then to gather herbs? It can be really dangerous to pluck the wrong ones. Not working for what you plucked them for is one of the better mishaps. They could also make your patient sick or poison the both of you. Why are you out here? Alone?”

“They didn’t send me,” Jimin answered honestly and watched what the other did attentively as he kneeled down beside him. “I just wanted to help somehow,” A sadness washed over his expression as he rearranged the bundles in his basket mindlessly. “I couldn’t stand around and do nothing. It won’t help if I confess my sins or…hide and lock myself in.” Jimin bit his tongue, unsure if Namjoon knew about their village and their fate at all. “Do you worry about me?” He cocked up an eyebrow cheekily and chuckled, “Don’t be…I’m safe in the daylight and I’ll be back home as soon as the sun goes down.”

“Hmm…” He couldn’t make much of what Jimin was telling him. It scared him a little that the other told him so freely that he wasn’t scared to go around the woods during daylight because even though he was right what if others followed? He couldn’t have people walking around his home or else they might find him or worse, be confident enough to start another wolf hunt. “Why would you... confess your sins? Did you hurt that patient you’re collecting herbs for? What happened last night? Were you part of it?” Finally, he got to ask his question but he wasn’t sure if he would like the answer.

“They say it’s to clear ourselves, so the devil won’t attack us.” Jimin shrugged his shoulders, “They say the wolf can sniff it if we have sinned. I think it’s bullshit.” He took the last herbs from Namjoon and closed the lid of his basket. This time, he was prepared when Namjoon reached out and helped him up. Holding onto the basket tightly, Jimin sighed deeply, before he told Namjoon everything. “There has been an attack again. They are preparing a hunt,” There were tears dwelling in the corner of his eyes. “They thought they have killed the wolf before. They all thought it was safe again…but…I don’t know why it attacked now, but I don’t believe the stuff they are telling us. It doesn’t add up…but…it doesn’t matter what I think.” Jimin reached out for him, soothing over his arm in a sweet gesture, when the sound of a hunting horn was startling him so much that he held tightly onto Namjoon on instinct. He realized with horror how late it must have gotten and that he should have been home a while ago. Jimin’s eyes flickered around as he tried to figure out what the right thing was to do. His gaze stopped wandering, when he locked his eyes with Namjoon.

“A hunt? A wolf hunt?” Namjoon couldn’t help it he shuddered violently at the mere mention of it. Images of fire and death flashed before his eyes and his burns seemed to hurt anew. “But... that can’t be. There hasn’t been... I didn’t...” He cut himself off before he could spill his secret just like that. He just couldn’t wrap his head around it: he didn’t attack anyone. And even though he lost control on a full moon the next one was only due next week. He didn’t wake up with blood in his mouth or next to a body. He didn’t hurt anyone last night; he didn’t even hunt for a meal! This didn’t make sense. The sound of the hunting horn made him freeze and for a horrible moment he felt like when he had been a child, afraid for his life and so utterly helpless, with nothing but pain and fear inside of him. He could see the conflict in Jimin’s eyes and when he realized that the boy was debating what to do he held onto him a little tighter. “No!” His voice sounded breathless and weak, but he couldn’t help it, “Don’t go back now, please! They might shoot anything that moves and before they realize that you’re not a wolf you’re already dead on the ground. We need to get out of here. Now!”

Something within the man’s eyes changed and Jimin could feel the tremble in his body. Jimin could only imagine what it would feel like if the hunters were running around in his woods, that he called his home, recklessly. It must be a horrifying feeling. Namjoon held a tight grip on his arm as he pulled him deeper into the dark and away from the path and the younger just stumbled along. “Namjoon, wait...I need to…,” Jimin felt out of breath, too scared to stop moving and yet there was something he needed to do. “I need to warn him. The wolf...what if he didn’t hear the horn? Trust me please.” He let his hand fall down to Namjoon’s making him turn around. “It’s not the wolf’s fault.”

Namjoon stopped dead in his tracks, "How do you know?"

Jimin was right, it wasn't his fault but there was no way the other could know this. Except - if he had staged the attack himself! Which didn't make sense because if he was a cold blooded killer then why care for a Wolf? So, the only other explanation was… He let go of Jimin's Hand, suddenly scared. "Did your grandmother...did she tell you something? About the...the wolf?" Did Jimin know that there was a werewolf out here and the only reason that Jimin didn't know it was him was because his Grandma couldn't describe his face because she couldn't see that well?

Jimin hesitated, furrowing his brows at Namjoon’s reaction. “No, actually...I don’t know for sure but... There’s something else out here, a beast, something evil... but it’s not him.” He carefully reached out for Namjoon, “It was my mother who told me not to believe them and I met the wolf before. He never attacked me. Please, believe me.” Jimin was shaking from the fear and the cold that creeped in so fast with no light shining through the trees. “He is not the evil people are looking for...I just know it,” He looked at Namjoon, trying to make him see that he was being honest, “Just as much as I know you’re not and I can trust you.” To his own surprise, Jimin had meant those words that spilled from him so easily, having no clue that he was talking to one and the same person.

Namjoon was stunned into silence, surprised by Jimin's words and the passion with which he defended the wolf's – his - honor. "I… I see." He finally answered vaguely, taking Jimin's hand again with no intention of letting go again. "It's very kind of you to say this. About the Wolf and also that you trust me. However, I can assure you that the wolf will be alarmed by those horns. And that he is safe right now. I haven't seen him around for a while so he's either hidden really well or might not be in the forest. Maybe he went a little further away to hunt. Either way it won’t help him if you run back and get hurt. He needs friends in the village. And right now, you seem to be the only one."

Jimin couldn’t help and despite the dangerous situation he smiled, trying to keep up with the other as they ran. He had so many questions: if Namjoon had seen the wolf from near, if they were close or why people believed it was the poor animal who hurt the village but Jimin kept his lips sealed. They had more important matters to deal with right now. “Do you know where you are going?” Jimin was trying to catch his breath in between, when the sound of the horn made him snap around. It was coming closer and he could hear the cheers from the hunters and the trample of hooves nearing.

Namjoon laughed despite being out of breath, "Yes, dear, I know where I'm going I'm not just running for the sake of it." The sudden sound of the horn had him shuddering again, so hard that he almost stumbled, holding onto a tree to keep from falling. He pretended to catch his breath to not make it too obvious how horrified he was, but he wasn't sure if it worked. "Just a little further, up in those hills are some caves. We can stay in one of them and make a fire to stay warm. Even if the hunters might come after us they'll see that we're human from the fire and won't just randomly shoot at us. At least I hope so..." He added quietly.

Jimin squeezed Namjoon’s hand a little as they ran ahead. It was clear, that Namjoon tried to be calm and fearless and yet, Jimin couldn’t oversee the little tremors in his body whenever they could hear them shouting. They ran along the narrow valley and then up a craggy hill to the opening in the rock. Namjoon was moving efficiently and Jimin had a hard time keeping up. He climbed nimbly up the rocks and Jimin almost laughed. Was Namjoon for real? How the hell was he supposed to follow all the way up there? Jimin gulped heavily. Namjoon could have chosen the closest cave, so they could be in and out more quickly, but he knew further up they were safer. By now it was dark, the moon the only light they were given and Jimin had to admit he was now more scared of falling then facing Hosung. He had tried to follow the path Namjoon had taken, doing the same movements as him but he had to realize that his arms and legs were just a little shorter. Jimin whined quietly as he gripped onto the ledge so hard that it turned his knuckles white. Luckily, the smaller human weighted nothing for Namjoon, who easily caught his wrist and pulled him over and into the cave with him.

“Hills you said...and I thought of little hillocks...not stony mountain sized hills that I need to climb,” Jimin leaned back against the cold stone, trying to catch his breath. Every muscle of his body was shaking from the fear and exhaustion.

Namjoon sheepishly cocked his head. "I'm sorry I forgot that you village people aren't used to climbing." As clumsy as he could be in human form when it came so social stuff or purely 'human' things he still had a lot of strength, endurance and agility in his lanky body. Maybe it was because the wolf was part of him - or maybe it was because he had climbed those hills and had run through the woods every day for years.

Jimin made a face at Namjoon and got up to follow him deeper into the dark. “It’s kind of sad though, isn’t it. I bet the view is amazing if you climb just a little higher in the daylight or simply to watch the sundown.” He kept close by the other’s side, trusting that he knew where the safest place to hide would be.

"Oh, we could totally come here during the daylight again if you want to enjoy the view. Or there's a tree we could climb, a massive oak that reaches really high up. If you sit in the crown you can oversee the whole forest."

“So, that means I’m allowed to come back and stray from the path again?” Jimin bit his lip to hide the smirk. The thought of meeting Namjoon again excited him in a way that nothing had done in a while. “I’d like that a lot,” He whispered as he got down to sit right next to Namjoon onto the cold stone. Pulling his legs in, Jimin shivered from the cold, trying to keep his teeth from clattering. “For how long do you think we have to stay here?”

"Allowed? You are your own person; you don't need permission. Though I'd appreciate it if you would visit me during the day. You might be right about the wolf but it's still dangerous roaming the woods at night. So, stay safe please." He noticed Jimin shivering and frowned at the knowledge that he didn't even have a blanket here. He didn't need one he was almost always warm. "I'll make a fire then you'll feel warmer soon." He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Hopefully they'll give up soon and then will be blaring their defeat through their stupid horns so that we'll know when they retreat, and it is safe to come out again."

“I’ve never been in the forest at night before. I need to be back by sundown every day or else they close the doors.” Jimin held Namjoon back before he could get up, “Don’t make a fire, please. If they see the smoke they might come nonetheless and…and I don’t want them to find me.” With his hand wrapped around Namjoon’s arm, he couldn’t just feel his muscles shifting underneath the fabric but also the heat he was radiating and Jimin stared at him feeling absolutely flabbergasted.

“You’re…how the hell are you so warm,” The confused expression was soon exchanged for a smile that pulled at his lips and Jimin got onto his knees. He untied his cloak and let it fall aside before easily maneuvering himself so he could sit right in front of Namjoon and in between his legs. Reaching for his cloak, he placed it like a blanket over them. "Ah, right, the curfew. Although if you managed to sneak out of the village right before a hunt I wouldn't put it past you to sneak out at night too, just for the thrill of it. You know, stargazing, catching fireflies...that kind of mischief." He winked at him. Before he could start their fire Jimin completely surprised him and he let himself be maneuvered by the younger before he realized what Jimin was doing. "Wait, what are you...are you cuddling with me?!"

Jimin chuckled softly, leaning back against Namjoon’s chest with a sigh, while making sure both of them were covered with his cloak as much as possible. “Just sharing the heat.” He mumbled and closed his eyes, feeling the adrenaline seep from his body and making him realize how tired he actually was. He hadn’t been really sleeping since the attack. “This way they can’t find us,” Jimin shifted a little to be able to look up at Namjoon. “Is this okay for you?”

“Sharing my heat, you mean..” He mumbled, but after the initial shock he had to admit that it was quite nice. A little strange because he wasn’t used to feeling another body so close against his but nonetheless comfortable. “You’re the ‘do first ask questions later’ type, hu? I guess I’ll be fine. As long as you don’t fall asleep on me and snore in my ear.” He gently poked a finger in Jimin’s side, teasing him a little because it was pretty obvious how exhausted the other was.

Jimin whined cutely, pursing his lip and yet, he didn’t even try to keep his eyes open. He simply let himself fall against Namjoon’s heat, trying to ignore the fear that they could get caught. “I really hope the wolf is okay,” Jimin mumbled, wrapping an arm around Namjoon’s so he could snuggle up against it. “Maybe I’ll find him soon again and then I can tell him to run. They won’t stop until they find something or someone to point their fingers at.” The younger yawned, concentrating on Namjoon’s steady heartbeat to soothe him enough to be able to rest. “I’ll just close my eyes a little bit okay?” His words were only a slurred mess of whispered words, “Wake me in five minutes or so.”

“Yeah, sure. Five minutes.” Namjoon smiled fondly at the practical stranger leaning against him. He had no idea why the other was so adamant on caring for ‘the wolf’ but it touched something inside of Namjoon, something vulnerable and tender and it was a scary as well as a nice thought. Thinking that someone cared could be a double edged sword. It didn’t take long for Jimin to fall asleep and of course Namjoon did not wake him after five minutes. He figured if the younger had to spend the night outside in the forest because of some stupid hunt then he could very well get a full night's rest.

And maybe, just maybe he felt safer too now that he wasn’t alone while there were people outside hunting for him.

A/N: The first chapter is out! Ahghfghfh are you ready for a new adventure? What did you think of it so far? Will Hosung find Jimin in the forest? Our sneaky little red riding hood ;) If you enjoyed this, leave a comment down below! Cat and I are excited to hear about your thoughts!

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Sambhogkaya Representation

Vajradhara

Shakyamuni Buddha appeared in the world with the sole purpose of helping all sentient beings. Lord Buddha revealed many different means/paths to enlightenment out of great compassion and set forth three wheels of law to suit varying degrees of intelligence and receptivities.

It is said that Shakyamuni Buddha himself was in the form of Vajradhara while he was teaching the Tantric path to his gifted disciples. Vajradhara is depicted holding a Vajra and a bell in his left hand. Vajradhara arms are kept crossed in front of him expressing complete integration of prajna and Upaya. He is usually depicted in blue colour in Vajraparyanka posture. He has a crown, an Urna and an Ushnisha as of a Sambhogakaya Buddha.

Vajradhara is also depicted in the father-mother aspect. Then he holds his usual symbols while his arms are crossed at the back of his consort. The consort is non-other than Prajnaparamita in deified form. The Kargyudpa lineage of Tibetan Buddhism begins with the Buddha Vajradhara. The individual in this tradition is allowed to visualize his root Guru as Buddha Vajradhara. Guru Tilopa is said to have received Mahamudra Instruction directly from Buddha Vajradhara through visions and other extraordinary means.

In Nispannayogavali, Vajradhara is the main deity in Vajraattvamandala. He is three-faced, six-armed and reddish-white. His right arm holds a Vajra, a sword and a Kapala and his left hand hold a bell, an Ankush and a noose. He stands in the Ardhaparyanka posture and dances in Tandava style.

Vajrasattva

Vajrasattva is also regarded as Adi-Buddha by Nepalese Vajracharyas who follows Vajrayana tradition according to the text Shakyamuni Buddha Vajrasattvakaya. His body is white with one face and two hands. His right-hand holds a five prolonged golden Vajra at his heart. His left-hand holds a silver bell at his side. He sits in the Vajraparyanka posture earing precious silks and ornaments with jewel diadem. His body is adorned with 32 major and 80 minor marks of a Sambhogakaya and emits a clear limitless light. It appears to lack all notion of substantiality, like the reflection of the moon in the water.

Vajrasattva has a father-mother aspect too. Generally, this form is not exhibited in open. It is shown only to those who are initiated in the highest yoga tantra. His form is the same as in the single one but his consort carries a kartri in her right hand and a kapala in her left hand.

Vajrasattva is said to have been originated from seed syllable hum and is generally invoked from the removal of obscuration of Kleshavarana and Jneyavarana. His hundred syllable mantra is very efficacious in purifying our defilements through confession practice. It is said if confession is done with the four opponent powers, then non-virtuous actions or obscurations will be purified. The first opponent power is the force of reliance. This means looking upon the visualised image of Vajrasattva as the embodiment of one’s refuge. The second opponent power is the sincere regret for the non-virtuous action done by oneself. The third opponent power is desisting from evil deeds. The fourth opponent power is to apply the power of good deeds and especially regarding this case practising the meditation and recitation of Vajrasattva without parting from Bodhicitta while remaining in the state of emptiness. Vajrasattva is a very popular guardian deity for Nepalese Vajracharyas. He is worshipped very often by Nepalese Buddhist through the Gurumandala ritual.

Vairocana Buddha

Vairocana Buddha is one of the Five Tathagatas symbolizing all-pervasive wisdom (Skt. Suvisuddha Dharma dhatu jnana) i.e. knowledge free from all kind of Obscuration. He is placed generally in the sanctum of the Stupa. Sometimes he is placed between Akshobhya and Ratna Sambhava in the stupa. He resides always in the Akanistha Heaven.

He is white and his hands are held against the chest with the tips of the thumb and forefinger of each hand joined displaying Bodhyanga Mudra. His vehicle is a pair of lions symbolizing the lion's roar of dharmadhatujnana which terrifies all wrong views.

Vairocana Buddha originates from the seed syllable OM placed on the orb of the moon. He also represents Rupa (form) of five aggregates. He is not a historical Buddha-like Shakyamuni Buddha. According to the Dharmalakshana sect of Mahayana Buddhism. He is considered to be Svabhavika-Kaya of Shakyamuni Buddha. In some esoteric sect of japan, he is said to be the supreme lord of secret vehicle. I.e Mahavairocana.

When Vairocana Buddha is four-faced and eight-armed. He is addressed as Vajradhatu Buddha. According to Vajradhatumandala of Nispannayogavali, Vairocana is seated in Vajraparyanka and white. His four faces are of white, yellow, red, and green colour. He is eight-armed with his hands holding a vajra and displaying dharma chakra mudra, the second pair shows dhyana mudra, the third holds a rosary and an arrow and the last pair holds a discus and a bow.

Akshobhya Buddha

He is also one of the five Tathagatas symbolizing Mirror-like Wisdom (Skt. Adarsa Jnana) which means wisdom like space, all-pervasive, without periphery and characteristics. He is the essence of a purified form of hatred. As in a mirror, every visible object reflects so the knowledge of dharmakaya reflects in our mind. The image of Akshobhya Buddha is generally placed in the east in the stupa. It is blue. He exhibits an earth-touching gesture (Bhumisparsa mudra). He rides on the throne of an elephant symbolizing the steadfast nature of his bodhisattva vows. In the past when Akshobhaya Buddha was a bodhisattva he made strong vows in front of Buddha Mahacakshu.

a) I now engender supreme bodhicitta. If I bear malice against sentient beings from now until attainment of supreme enlightenment I will be disobeying all the Buddhas.

b) Now I have resolved to pursue all-knowing wisdom and firmly dedicated to this goal. If I generate any doubt, intention to kill or steal, my wrong view or impure deed or if I am prone to lying, duplicity or harsh language or if I hurt other ways from now on until I attain supreme enlightenment, I will be deceiving Buddhas.

When he thus first brought forth bodhicitta, this bodhisattva-mahaattva clad the armour of vigour, and never moved by hatred or the like toward any sentient being. Since then, because of his thought Bodhisattva was called Akshobhaya, the immovable of the land of Abhirati.

In other words, Akshobhaya attained Buddhahood under the tree of even jewels in the land of Abhirati I.e wonderful joy in the east. Because of the power of the vows, there is no lower realm in his buddha land. Every sentient being, in his buddha land, deed virtuous deeds and restrain from angry behaviours. According to the Ratnakuta sutra, if one determines to practice the bodhisattva way of life as he vows he will be reborn in that Abhirati Buddhaland. It is said that the famous Upasaka Vimalakirti is the person transformed from the land of Abhirati Buddhaland.

Ratna Sambhava Buddha

Ratna Sambhava Buddha is one of five Tathagata symbolizing wisdom of equality (Skt. Samatajnana). According to the commentary of Namasangiti, the author Ravisri says;

"All the phenomena are devoid of essence, lacks true inherent existence and hence is a dream-like or illusion or is empty”. Thus the knowledge of the essencelessness of a person and the phenomena is the wisdom of equality. Buddha Ratna sambhava is the personification of this wisdom is Vajrayana Buddhism.

In the extant literature, he is rarely described his vows, aspirations and activity. He is usually called the Buddha born from a jewel. He is yellow, belongs to the Buddha family of a jewel, placed in the stupa facing to the south. He shows varada mudra with his right hand and holds cintamani jewel in his left hand kept on his lap. He also represents the purified form of the defilement pride, rides on the horse throne symbolising that he ferries over the suffering sentient being with full vigour. He resides in the pure abode of Ratnavati heaven (Buddha-field).

It is said that when Ratna Sambhava Buddha attained enlightenment golden coloured rays emitted from his crown and manifested limitless golden coloured bodhisattvas each one of them carrying a jewelled sceptre emitting light shinning on the southern world which were numerous as the sands of the Ganges.

It is said that the sentient beings’ wish would be fulfilled when one sees the golden coloured light. It is also said that by meditating on Ratna Sambhava Buddha’s body, one’s desire would be fulfilled.

Amitabha Buddha

Amitabha Buddha is also one of the five tathagata representing the wisdom of discriminating awareness. When discriminating wisdom dawns on us we realise non-production or non-origination of all things. He also represents a purified form of desire. Amitabha Buddha is red and represented in the stupa facing to the west. He rides on a peacock symbolizing that he can take away the suffering of others just as the peacock eats poisonous plants and yet his tail shines forth.

Amitabha Buddha is assisted by two bodhisattvas viz. Avalokiteshvara and Mahasthamprapta.

When Amitabha Buddha was a bodhisattva he was called Bhikshu Dharmakara. He made 48 vows to establish an adorned land of unlimited bliss to ferry over those living beings who recite his name. Based on those vows, any living being who has faith, makes vows and practices diligently will be received by this Buddha and reborn in the pure land of unlimited bliss.

Amitabha Buddha presides over the Bhadrakalpa i.e fortunate aeon. He always exhibits Dhyani Mudra. He belongs to the lotus family and originated from the seed syllable Hash. He can be recognised through the symbol of the lotus. This buddha has ferried over innumerable sentient beings with his extensive vows and great compassion. Devotees recite very often the prayer to be reborn in the land of Amitabha Buddha in China, Japan, and Tibet too.

Amogh Siddhi Buddha

Amogh Siddhi Buddha is the last among the five Buddhas. He represents all accomplishing Wisdom and purified form of jealousy. When one realises all accomplishing wisdom one can perform all the Buddha Activity without pre-meditation. This happens spontaneously. Amoghsiddhi Buddha is green in colour, represented in the stupa facing to the north. He rides on Garuda symbolising that he can detect the presence of serpent-like delusion from a distance and a serpent with seven hoods and an umbrella is depicted in the background. He exhibits abhayamudra showing that following the bodhisattva path is gained.

The vows, activity and deed of Amogh Siddhi Buddha are not extant in Mahayana Buddhist literature like Ratna Sambhava Buddha. It is however said that cultivators relying on this Buddha’s protection will achieve accomplishments in Buddhist affairs and worldly matters and will perfect the work benefiting the sentient beings.

Amogh Siddhi Buddha alone has a canopy of snakes over his head and sometimes resembles Shakyamuni Buddha with nine-headed Naga King Mucalinda in paintings. According to tantric text, this Buddha is said to be originated from the seed syllable green kham. He is also said to be the embodiment of volition (Skt. Sanskara) and Air element.

Bhaisajyaguru Vaiduryaprbha Tathagata (Medicine Buddha)

Bhaisajyaguru Vaiduryaprbha Tathagata is also called Healing Buddha or Medicine Buddha. He can cure the sickness of birth and death. His body is bright like lapislazuli. He resides in the eastern world of purified lapislazuli and assisted by two bodhisattvas called Suryaprabha and Candraprabha, to transform and teach living beings in that land.

The usual colour Bhaisajyaguru Vaiduryaprbha Tathagata was blue or lapislazuli in colour. But he had also a golden colour. His right hand held a branch of the myrobalan in varadamudra gesture. His left hand is in the lap holding a pindapatra (alms bowl).

The blue or lapislazuli colour of this body symbolises that he takes all the disease and sickness of the suffering beings unto himself. The palm myrobalan signifies the medicine which heals all the sickness of sentient beings.

According to the Bhaisajyaguru Buddha sutra, he made 12 great vows before he attained Buddhahood. The important vows are as follows: to eliminate sickness from all living beings and make them feel easy and happy to attain Buddhahood and to liberate beings from disasters and calamities. It is said that the land of Bhaisajya Buddha is genuinely pure. In that land, the ground is paved with purified lapislazuli. The cities, buildings and palaces are made of seven jewels. In that land the sentient beings do not commit any evil deeds hence there is no lower realm. It can well be compared with Sukhavati Heaven of Buddha Amitabha.

In Tibetan medical tradition Bhaisajya Buddha is said to be the source of all medical treatises. This Buddha is invoked for eliminating disasters and sickness of all varieties.

Amitayus or Buddha Aparimita

Amitayus (Buddha Aparimita) is very popular is bestowing long life upon the devotees. He is red. His two hands are in dhyana mudra and hold an ambrosia vase (Skt. Amrit Kalasha). He usually wears all the ornaments of a different kind peculiar to a Sambhogakaya Buddha. He is never depicted with any consort. He wears a crown and has Ushnisha and Urnakosh in his body.

Buddha Aparimita is invoked or worshipped for lengthening the life span or fast relief from dreadful diseases or mortal danger. In the Nepalese Mahayana tradition, the dharani of Amitayus or Buddha Aparimita is often recited by the devotees in the presence of dying patients. The recitation of this dharani is said to be efficacious when carried out in utter sincerity. It is said that the famous Madhayamika Buddhist philosopher Arya Nagarjuna had escaped his early death after the recitation of this dharani one complete day and night.

Buddha Durgatiparisodhanaraja

Buddha Shakyamuni when he entered into a special type of samadhi called Sarvadurgatiparisodhana i.e. elimination of all evil destinies, is called Buddha Durgatiparisodhanaraja. There are many paintings of this deity in Nepal although this sculpture is very rare.

Buddha Durgatiparisodhanaraja is yellow, exhibits Dharmacakramudra and has one face and two arms only. Buddha Durgatiparisodhanaraja is described in the Durgatisodhana mandala of Nispannayogavail. His dharani is very popular among Nepalese Buddhists and is very often recited in front of a dead body or funeral ceremonies. Durgatiparisodhanaraja can liberate beings from the hell. Devaraja Indra requested Buddha Shakyamuni to liberate deva Vimalamaniprabha who was reborn in Avici Hell. Buddha Shakyamuni delivered the dharani of Durgatiparisodhanaraja out of compassion and he was liberated. 

[saelwen]

Your Witcher

Dark!Geralt of Rivia x Shy!Reader

Chapter Five

Masterlist

Summary: You were a shy girl that worked on the tavern of your town, serving drunken men that came to drown all their problems in alcohol. On one of your busy days on the tavern, you grabbed the attention of a certain witcher. In which resolve you being taken away by the white-haired witcher. (Sorry I´m bad at summaries 😂)

Warnings: Angst, Smut, Dom/sub

Words:2,300

The cold water hit your face like tiny needles piercing your skin as you rode into the dense forest. All you could hear was the loud howls that the strong wind made between the tall trees, shaking them violently. Roach didn´t stop for a minute, running like your life depended on it...and it did.  

Pulling the reins up, you stop roach from running anymore since you could feel her breath coming in little puffs as she has been running for almost all night. “Let´s rest for a little bit,” you said with a small voice, patting gently on her long neck. You climb off from roach´s back and look around, seeing nothing but trees around you.  

An annoyed sigh fell from your lips as you notice that you don´t know where were you. Grabbing roach´s reins, you lead the tired horse to a beautiful cozy tree. Her form was like small hiding, her trunks and their dense leaves didn´t let the heavy rain get in.  

Securing roach´s reins to a thick trunk, you sit down on the base of the cozy tree, wrapping your arms around your soaked and cold body. You curse under your breath for not having brought something warmer than a simple light dress as a gush of cold wind pass by your shivering body.  

Tears start running down your cheeks again as you bury your face between your knees. You try to get some rest, to let your e/c eyes close for a little bit but your mind didn´t let it, alert to every shadow and sound that you saw and heard around you. You didn´t know this part of the woods so your body was full of adrenally, ready to run if some creatures appear of all a sudden.  

A loud growl came from your stomach, making rub your hand against. It´s been a while since you have eaten and your body is starting to lose strength.  

Whimpering, you curl in a ball on the cold ground, letting your body shut down for a bit.

                                                  /// \\\

A hiss falls from Geralt´s mouth as he finishes clean his wound and wrapping in some clean cloth. How could he be so stupid?! He should have seen the lie on Y/n´s eyes! He could have sensed it with his mutations but he let his emotions get in the way.  

Standing from the wooden chair by the fireplace, he starts putting his armor on. He looks to the window seeing the storm was still strong. “She didn´t go far... I may catch her by the sunrise.” his voice dark and deep, full of rage and mischief.  

Walking to the dining table, he grabs his swords and put them on his back, securing them tightly. Geralt walks outside, the cold rain hitting on his face. “Don´t worry, princess... I going to get you!” with that he walks into the dense forest, following roach´s tracks.

                                                /// \\\

The sound of a stick breaking woke you up, making you shot up from your place. Looking around, you only see the shadows of the trees that the little moonlight provided. Another sound grabbed your attention, it was a growl and come from the dark side of the forest.  

Turning back, you saw two large red orbs shining in the darkness, looking at you with hunger. Roach let out a loud neigh and starts backing away, ripping her reins from the trunk.  

Suddenly there was a huge thunder in the dark sky each you wished not had happened for what you saw made more tears fall from your eyes. The gigantic creature that was in front of you made your body paralyzed in fear. The beast had a form of humanoid with a wolf, full of beautiful red fur with some ugly scars here and there. He let out another growl, baring his large and sharp teeth to you.  

You took a step back but fall when your foot got stuck on the root of the tree. A squeal escapes from your lips and looks quick to the beast, seeing it walking closer to you. Pushing your body backward, you try to escape from his sharp teeth but after some small steps, your back hits the tree.  

The large beast comes closer, his growls and snarls become louder. So, this is how you die? Eaten by a werewolf? Alone in the woods, being chased by a witcher, who had kidnapped you and rape you?!  

Lifting your muddy arms, you put them in front of your face and close your eyes, ready for the beast to end your awful life. Maybe you could find peace in death. Maybe this beast will free you from the witcher.  

You feel the beast snout touching your bruised ankle, licking gently the wound that the chains had done. You yelp and jump a little, moving away your ankle from the beast´s mouth.

“I finally found you, Y/n!” a familiar delicate voice sounded in front of you, making you open your e/c eyes. The beast sits before you and gave you a small smile. “W..What?...” you said in confusion, your voice tiny and full of fear.  

The werewolf moves slowly closer to you, putting a clawed hand on your soaked cheek, cupping gently. “It´s okay, Y/n... you are safe now.” the beast voice was soft and feminine, a voice that you remember so well. Looking better at the red werewolf, you notice that its frame was large but delicate and on its chest was two small breasts cover in red fur. A female werewolf?  

“W..Who are y..you?” your voice came out weak. The beast took a deep breath and look down, you notice her eyes were less red than before and were changing to a lovely blue color.  

“It´s me...Alice.” a loud gasp fall from your lips as you hear her words. “W..What?...How?” you almost couldn´t form words as you look to her with wide eyes, shocked by the news.  

Her large hand stroke gently your cheek, spreading a comfortable warmth on your body. “It´s a long story...i will tell after get you out of here! I know that the witcher is not far behind!” she said while picking you up gently, carefully for not to hurt you more than you already are. You wrap your arms around her fluffy neck and bury your face on her soft fur, feeling warm and safe on her embrace.  

“How did you find me?” you ask her as she starts walking towards her house. Alice let out a growl and shook her large head. “That fucking witcher appeared on the town, buying supplies...when I got closer to him, I caught your scent on his clothes.” she pauses and looks down to you, kissing softly your head. “After that, I follow him... I´ve heard the things he did to you... he will pay for raping my daughter!” her last sentence was full of venom and hatred.  

There was a long silence as you two walked in the dark woods. The rain was calmer now, only falling small drops. You cuddle your head into her neck and let out a relieved sigh.  

“So... this why you never worked on full moons,” you said quietly. She chuckles, making you smile as you feel the vibrations from her laugh. “Yes... On full moon nights, I would go deep in the forest and hunt,” she said gently. You look to her with your eyes full of awe and fear. “I've never harmed any human if it's what you are thinking,” she said with a smirk on her strange lips.  

Suddenly Alice stops and jumps to the side. Confused, you look to the tree beside you and saw a dagger there. “Fuck off, Witcher! She is not yours!” Alice snarl, her voice was dark and full of rage.  

Turning your head to the side, you saw Geralt standing there fully armored. The look on his face made you shiver in fear. His eyes were black as the night which made you panic even more. His skin was paler than before, with some black veins around his face.

Geralt took a step forward and point his silver sword to Alice. “Give me Y/n and you may leave with life.” his voice came out like an animal growl.  

Alice put you down and told you to hide. She turns to him and straightened her back, showing him how big she was. “You will pay for you have done to her!” with that Alice starts running towards him. She lifts her hand and starts trashing, trying to pierce her sharp claws on him.  

Geralt and Alice begin fighting, almost looking like they were dancing. All you could hear was his sword and her claws clashing together and their growls and snarls.

You put your hands on your ears, trying to muffle the sounds of the battle occurring in front of you but you still heard everything. Closing your eyes tightly, try to sing your mother lullaby.  

As you were singing, a loud painful howl broke through the cold air in the forest. Opening your eyes, you saw Geralt piercing his sword on Alice´s thigh. There was blood everywhere, making you vomit your empty stomach.  

Geralt grabs Alice's head and hits it hard with the handle of his sword. She falls on the cold ground unconscious, her breath came out in little puffs. You stood there, looking to her with teary eyes. Geralt takes out from his bag a long silver chain and walks to her. “NO!...P..Please! Don´t kill her!” you plead while standing up. He stops beside her and looks to you with a smirk. “I´m not going to kill her... She will be a perfect watchdog,” he said while wrapping the chain around Alice´s neck. “With the proper spell, she will obey me like a true loyal dog!” he drags her to Roach, who standing behind him with her head down, and put her on the brown mare´s back.  

When he was finished putting Alice on roach´s back, he turns around and walks to you. His eyes still dark like obsidian, shining with the light of the moon. “You have been a bad girl, Y/n.” a shiver runs down your spine as he said your name and not your nickname that he gave you.  

He strokes gently your cheek, putting an h/c lock behind your ear. He leans down and captures your lips with his, kissing gently. He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours, cleaning some tears from your eyes. “You should have listened to me, princess! Now...Now I have to punish you!” he said as his large hand wrap around your neck and push your back into the tree.  

A small whimper falls from your lips as you feel his other hand pushing your dress up. He puts his leg between yours so his hand could cup your soft folds, his skillful fingers playing with your sensitive pearl. “It seems your body has missed my touch, princess,” he whispers against your ear. You close your eyes and turn your face to the side, feeling betrayed by your own body.  

“Look to my eyes, Y/n!” he growls warningly, his hand on your neck squeezing gently. Opening your eyes, I stare to his obsidian ones. “Good girl...” he said with a wicked smile. Another whimper escapes from you when you feel his large member rub against your wet slit. “Since we have a long trip to our lovely home, I will have my fill with you here,” he said with a sultry voice.  

You gasp when he suddenly moving inside, thrusting hard and fast, not giving you time to adjust. You wrap your legs around his strong waist as his hand grabs your ass, squeezing tightly. Your hands claw his leather armor as he bounces you on his cock, forcing moans and whimper fall from your lovely lips.  

The familiar feeling starts forming on your belly and he notices as he moves his hand from your neck to your slit, rubbing gently your clit. You bite your lower lip as you feel your orgasm coming closer, making your toes curl. “Bad girls don´t get to cum, princess.” with his words, your eyes shot open, looking to him in fear.  

Geralt smirks down to him and pulls his cock out of your warm slit, pushing you down to your knees. He starts stroking himself, groaning and moaning as he looks down at you. The ache between your legs made a discomfortable feeling spread through your body, the need to cum was to big.  

Slowly, you move your hand between your legs, touching gently your clit. Sighing in relief, you start rocking your hips but Geralt kick your hand away from your wet slit. “Don´t. Touch. Yourself!... Bad girls don´t get to cum.” he growls to you, baring his teeth.  

Nodding gently, you look to his large member, seeing some pre cum dripping down. His strokes begin going faster and his breath was caught on his throat. Suddenly, white strikes came out from his cock, coating your face and dress with his warm seed. He rubs the tip of his cock on your lips and sighs as you wrap your lips around his head. He tastes bitter and sweet at the same time, you clean him up as he comes down from his orgasm.  

Closing his pants, he picks you up and walks to roach. He puts you on the roach´s back and then climbs up, sitting behind you. He gave you a sweet kiss on your head and leans down to your ear. “I hope you are ready for your punishment, My sweet princess,” he whispers with wicked voice while ordering roach to move forward.  

You close your eyes and nod. “Yes, sir...” you whisper quietly, making a disgusting smirk on Geralt lips

Hey Guys!!! New chapter here. So, what do you think? I hope you like it and feel free to comment and tell me what you think!!

Also, taglist is open. Click right HERE

XOXO

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[bellarke-angel]

Run Away With Me.

Thank you @lenacarstairspotterstewart​ for giving me the idea and everyone in the group chat that wanted me to write it! Here it is, enjoy!

The cock of a gun was what caught Clarke’s attention. The blonde had been searching for the culprit that had knocked her out just a few moments ago. Her first instinct was to find Bellamy, but she figured whomever was after them was coming after him too. Funnily enough, she was right, she heard the muffled grumble of a man she knew all too well by now. Bellamy. Clarke found herself moving quickly towards him only to stop in her tracks as her eyes fell on the scene before her. 

One of their own people, Dax, holding a gun aimed perfectly at a defenseless Bellamy scrambling on the floor in a daze. Clarke already knew without even asking that the jobi nuts had affected him too - the poor man losing his grasp on reality, begging for Dax to get it over and done with. Clarke had never seen the brunette so vulnerable, he always sat on his high horse, screaming “Whatever the hell we want!” standing by allowing everyone to become reckless, putting themselves at risk. Yet here he was, walls down, broken and weak. Heart on his sleeve. Clarke raised her gun, praying she had good aim. It was safe to say she was terrified.

“Put the gun down, Dax.” Clarke demanded, trying to make her voice stern. She didn’t want to hurt anyone, but if Dax stepped over the line she’d have no choice...she couldn’t let Bellamy get hurt. Even though the camp would be a lot easier to control if he wasn’t around.

The boy with the scruffy blonde hair chuckled wickedly, as though she’d told a joke. The gun he once held at Bellamy, now pointed at her. Clarke’s fearful eyes flickered to the brunette on the floor, gulping as she saw him looking around in confusion. The man gradually crashing back down to reality. Assessing the situation.

“You should’ve stayed down there, Clarke. I tried not to kill you.” 

Clarke’s eyebrows furrowed, was she supposed to say thank you? She shifted the gun on her shoulder, wincing as she noticed how heavy the weapon actually was. They didn’t have this type of weaponry on the Ark. Dax’s voice pulled her eyes back to him once more, the boy’s eyes wide-eyed and crazed. Clarke hadn’t understood why he’d become like this, not long ago he and Bellamy had been slapping each others back in victory.

“And here you are...Somway said, I can’t have any witnesses.”

His words caused her eyes to widen, she recalled hearing the name before...from the Ark. Clarke’s blue eyes returned to Bellamy, frowning.

“What is he talking about?”

Bellamy’s head fell with shame, she could tell he knew exactly why they were in this position. The boy let out an exasperated sigh, “It was set up...he gave me the gun to shoot the Chancellor.”

Clarke could practically feel her body steam with anger, they’d all been thrown down here like test subjects and yet one of them has already betrayed them. Clarke inched closer, daring Dax to shoot, the gun held tight in her grip.

“Walk away and I won’t kill you.” The blonde boy offered, gesturing to the way she had come. It was obvious he’d only come here to take one life, not two. 

Clarke knew it was a good deal, her life spared, but she refused to leave Bellamy. He may have shot the Chancellor, but she knew somewhere in him was good, he didn’t deserve to be left dying in the woods of a planet that had once thought was dead. Clarke was growing impatient, anger laced in her tone as she spat,

“Put. It. Down.”

“Your choice.”

Both Bellamy and Clarke knew what that meant, the blonde quick to pull the trigger only for it to be a blank, nothing but gunpowder shooting out of the gun. Clarke moved fast, the blonde ducking behind a tree just in time as a bullet rang out throughout the forest. The echo of the gunshot ringing through her ears, the blonde having to cup them for a moment, trying to catch her breath from the shock of almost being shot. Another shot was fired, the sound of the boy heading her way caused her heart to race, only to hear an exclaim from the man she’d been protecting.

“No!” 

Clarke peered around the tree to find Bellamy had tackled the tall boy to the ground, clearly taking Dax by surprise. Bellamy swinging the first few punches as Dax struggled beneath him. The boy quickly gaining leverage and Bellamy took a punch that was bound to leave a mark. Clarke fiddled with the jack of her gun attempting to find a bullet that would actually work, the blonde gave up quickly hearing Bellamy struggle. She knew Dax was winning. 

Sucking in a short breath she ran at him, trying her best to hit him across the head with the butt of a gun. She’d seen it somewhere in a movie she’d watched with Wells once.

“Get off of him!” She screamed, by now Clarke was praying someone heard them, although she knew no-one was around. She and Bellamy had come alone.

Dax reacted fast, seemingly knowing Clarke would come to Bellamy’s defense, the blonde taking a blow to the stomach the force knocking her to the ground. It felt as though he’d sucked the oxygen from her body. The distraction had allowed Bellamy to take a hold of a foreign metal object, swinging it round quickly to sink into Dax’s neck. It startled them all, Bellamy watching as blood poured from the mans neck...the boy fighting to save himself. Clarke watched in horror as the life seeped from the boys eyes...it was his own fault, but the thought of them losing yet another one of their people, it still hit hard.

Bellamy was first to haul himself up, staggering as he struggled to the nearest tree to Clarke. Blood smeared over his face from the hits he’d taken, the wounds stinging but that felt like the least of his problems. The brunette’s muddy brown eyes gazed over to the blonde who had cradled her stomach in agony, pulling herself up to lean against his shoulder. The pair both struggling to breath, if they knew their day would turn out like this, they wouldn’t have come.

“Thank god...you’re okay.” Clarke managed, wishing the pain to go away, but thankful Bellamy came out of the fight alive. But when her blue eyes connected with his brown orbs, all she saw was pain. He didn’t appear to be glad that he was still breathing. 

Bellamy’s eyes averted hers, training on the dirt on the ground, avoiding sight of the lifeless body. “No, I’m not...my mother—the things I’ve done...she wanted me to be better.”

Clarke felt her heart break a little as she watched him crumble, tears burning in his eyes. She wanted to pull him closer, tell him everything would be alright, that they’d do good in the end but none of them knew that for certain. But Bellamy allowing her to see the good guy within him, it gave her hope that from now on, things in the camp would be different. Their leadership would be stronger.

“Bellamy—” Clarke muttered in almost a whisper but he cut her off.

“All I do is hurt people.” Bellamy paused for a moment, all his pain building up and pouring out at once. He sniffed sharply, before murmuring his next words that made Clarke realize how much Bellamy truly hated who he’d become. “I’m a monster. It should’ve been me lying there, dead.”

Silence hung in the air for a moment or two, the blonde saddened by his words. She didn’t want him to die, he had a sister who adored him, people who would follow him into a fire and Clarke...who didn’t want to face the future without him. But if it wasn’t for him taking Dax’s life, she’d have been dead too.

“You saved my life today,” Clarke took a hold of Bellamy’s mud covered hands, ensuring that he looked her in the eye to show she was telling the truth. He needed hope and that’s what she was going to give him. “You may be a total ass half the time, but...” Clarke hesitated on whether to continue, “I need you. If you want forgiveness, fine. I’ll give that to you. You’re forgiven. But we have to head back, we have to face them.”

It seemed as though Bellamy clung to those words, she could see the sadness slowly fading away, her words meaning the world to him. Bellamy shifted, his thumb subconsciously running over the back of her hand. The blonde tried to ignore the flutter that it caused in the pit of her stomach, knowing deep down she had a soft spot for the brown haired boy. A look danced in Bellamy’s eye for a moment, before it dissipated, walls back up once again. 

“Like you faced your mom?” He said harshly, causing Clarke to look away for a moment before he sucked in a breath, pulling Clarke closer so her full attention was on him, “Come with me.”

“What?” 

“Just you and me, Clarke. Screw everyone else, it’s not like they need us.Let’s just...go.” Bellamy’s voice was desperate, hoping she would go along with it. Come with him and spend their days on Earth together, not having to deal with the people of the Ark when they come back down.

For a split moment Clarke wants to say no, to claim it’s a ridiculous idea to say everyone would miss them if they up and left. But even Clarke knew that wasn’t true, they weren’t special, they were simply just two out of ninety-nine other people that had come to this planet. No-one was forcing them to stay, of course Octavia was one of Bellamy’s worries. But right now the girl didn’t appreciate anything he’d done for her. They could go, maybe just for a little while.

“Yes.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, he’d been expecting a no and some kind of speech to get him to come back with her. Which he’d have gone along with anyway because after today the idea of Clarke getting hurt without him there to protect her. Terrified him as much as it scared him the idea of him losing Octavia. Bellamy grunted as he pulled himself to his feet, grimacing because of his injuries, before holding a hand out with his signature charming smirk.

“Then let’s start our adventure, princess. Together.”  

Clarke already knew leaving the hundred, her friends...it was a big step. But coming to Earth, she wasn’t going to allow herself to be some test subject reduced to a cell when they come down. She’d allow the wristband to remain active as long as she could, as much as she hated her mother, she would spare her the heartache of thinking her child was dead. Clarke slipped her hand in Bellamy’s which somehow managed to fit perfectly, a pearly smile on her face as she stood before him, excited for what’s to come.

[bornofsnowandice]

Lost in the Woods Part I || AU Drabble

“Elsa!”

Turning Elsa glanced at the darkened path that laid behind her as the wind carried an echo of someone calling her name. The voice sounded vaguely familiar like the dream that nagged your mind upon awakening but you could not quite recall. Ignoring the voice Elsa turned back to the towering mist in front of her with a gasp. It was like a dark curtain had been dropped over the land obscuring the forest she heard so much about. It rippled with magic she could not quite identify, but it was magic no doubt. “I can feel you,” she muttered as she reached out her hand only to be prevented from touching the mist directly. “My magic can feel you,” Elsa muttered again as she attempted to touch the mist only to be denied a second time.

“Elsa!”

Pushing her shoulders back, Elsa stared up at the mist a moment longer in silence as she wished it would part for her. How she wanted to see what was on the other side! There was something just beyond waiting for her and she could feel it. This was where she was meant to be... “Please,” she begged softly reaching her hand forward for the third time. “I belong here,” Elsa called out hoping her pleas would work. If the owner of the voice calling to her reached her before the mist allowed her into the forest she would be made to go back to Arendelle. “I am like you,” Elsa explained as she pulled her gloves off and tossed them onto the brown grass. Closing her eyes she tried to focus on the vein of magic coursing through her body and calling it forward like plucking the string on a guitar. Opening her eyes and hands Elsa noticed the delicate snowflakes burst forth from her hands and swirl in front of her and dance towards the mist. “See,” Elsa whispered. Elsa smiled as she noticed the mist rippling and parting slightly in front of her allowing her access to the Enchanted Forest of her father’s stories. It was as if it was opening its doors and allowing her to glimpse inside if she was brave enough to take it. Glancing over her shoulder once again, Elsa looked down the deserted path. If she followed it back it would lead her straight back to Arendelle, back to her family, and back to her responsibilities. Everything she had ever known was back there waiting for her, but the forest held the answers she was seeking. “You’ll be fine Elsa,” she muttered her father’s last words to her as she turned back and stepped into the forest. “Woah,” Elsa whispered in surprise as she looked at the forest that now surrounded her. The world had exploded in vibrant hues of reds, oranges, yellows, browns, and muted greens that were truly magical. “This forest is beautiful.” Running her hand along with the bark of a nearby tree she could feel its roughness and it rubbed at her skin causing her to lift her hand slightly. Even then silence was broken only by her own footsteps on the fallen leaves. The forest seemingly had the power to mend wounded hearts. Was this really the same forest her father had been to as a boy? “Is anyone here?” Elsa called out feeling a presence following her. “Hello?” Pivoting she glanced over her shoulder but saw only unadulterated wilderness to greet her. A gentle mist had fallen over the forest she now noticed, which seemed odd since the sun had not yet fallen or had not outside the mist. The forest, however, seemed cloaked in semi-darkness and shadows. “I know you are there,” Elsa started only to be interrupted by a rustling of leaves. Okay, she could take a hint, and eagerly jogged in the direction of the noise. Perhaps whoever it was wanted to show her something. Elsa was patient and would wait if she must. She pondered calling out to the person or spirit ahead of her as their pace quickened, but instead, she jogged down the covered path trying to keep up. Elsa’s breath caught in her chest as she tried to keep up with the guiding spirit. “Slow down,” Elsa called out after a moment stopping to try and catch her breath. “I am coming,” she muttered as she resumed her frantic pace after the quickly fading noises. Halting suddenly Elsa looked up to find the scenery around her had suddenly changed. The painted forest had given way to a vast meadow painted in the brown hues of a dying grass waiting for the kiss of the first snowfall. She could see for what felt like miles and miles. “I..” She started only to feel a sudden wind rustle past her blowing her braid into her face. Wiping her hair from her face, Elsa turned to notice a structure off to her left in the open field. “Stone monoliths in a forest?” Cautiously, Elsa walked in the direction of the massive monuments. They were not built by Arendellians for sure as they preferred a more polished appearance to their stones. Her own father’s memorial stone had been made of a similar stone but this was rough and seemingly unfinished. Why would you put four such stones in a seemingly empty forest? “Why,” Elsa asked as she reached out and placed a hand on the first stone as she stood in its shadow. It was cold to her touch but not unfamiliar. She could feel the same magic radiating off it as she had felt from the mist. “Are you the same?” She asked curiously. Racking her brain, Elsa tried to think back to her father’s story from when she was a little girl. It had been hard to pay attention with Anna whispering in her ear comparing their father’s story to their own make-believe Enchanted Forest. “Far away as far north as we can go stood a very old and very enchanted forest,” Elsa started recalling the story. “But its magic wasn’t that of goblin spells and lost fairies. It was protected by the most powerful spirits of all; those of air, fire, water, and earth.” Elsa said quietly the memories coming back full force now. Slowly she went over the tale in her head until she came to the end of her father’s story. “The Spirits were enraged by the fighting and turned against us all. The spirits then vanished and a powerful mist covered the forest locking everyone out...” Elsa tilted her head as she pondered the story a bit more. In her worry about the story and the spirits, she had asked her father if he thought the forest would one day awake along with the spirits. Agnarr had answered he did not know, but they needed to be ready in case that day came. Angry magical spirit were not for the faint at heart. “Are you here?” Elsa asked as she reached out and laid her hand on the stone before her. “Air.” She touched the monolith carved with the symbol for the air before moving to place a hand on that of fire, water, and lastly earth. Instinctively, Elsa conjured up a flurry of snow as she tossed her hands up as an offering to the spirits of the forest. “Come to me,” she muttered desperately as she tossed another magical blue orb into the sky that burst into a firework of snow and ice crystals. She had never done that before! Curiously, Elsa thought of all the snowman they had made before Anna forgot as she waved her hands, and magically, the snow burst forth into perfectly round orbs and fit together to recreate the snowman from her childhood. It was as if her magic was perfectly in tune with her thoughts and not running rampant like it tended to do. Flicking her hands again, Elsa created a new flurry of snow that settled in the pattern of an elaborately carved ice fountain. “What else can I do,” she told herself as she looked around her once more and to the stone carvings looming over her. “What can you do?” She asked only to receive more silence as an answer. Biting her lip, Elsa turned her back to the monuments figuring they held no more secrets they wished to give away just yet. Still, the wind had seemingly lead her there for a reason. “I am ready to listen,” Elsa called out hoping the forest would give her another sign. “Can you show me?” Elsa asked as she raised her hands shooting out more ice fractals and snow into the air. She could feel the magic inside her growing every day and it scared her. What if it kept growing and she hurt Anna again? Hurt her mother or Arendelle? She needed to find the answers of how to control her magic here in this forest. Sighing Elsa raised her hands again summoning more of her magic. Something had to be there watching her and listening to her pleas. Yet, this time, the wind swept across the plains and blew her snow back in her face. “That’s not funny,” she said with a laugh wiping the snow from her face and hair. “Okay, it’s a little funny,” Elsa admitted as she glanced around her surroundings again. “Have you decided to come back out again?” She said to the wind again, to the air spirit. With a shake of her head, Elsa laughed as she summoned up another burst of snow watching the wind pick it up, swirl it around, and create a swirl of sparkling snow in the sky before dropping it again on her head making hair and clothes sparkle. Only this time when the wind blew the snowflakes off Elsa herself they settled into familiar objects; a horse, a fire, and what appeared to be an Arendellian soldier. Frozen moments in time. “Are you trying to tell me something,” Elsa asked as she reached out and touched the frozen memories intrigued. “I don’t know what it is.” She admitted with a laugh as she glanced around at the frozen statues knowing she didn’t know but she wanted to find out. As if to answer her question, Elsa caught glimpse of lights dancing off in the distance. Red and blue flames dancing along the horizon creating a spectacular light show only rivaled by the aurora that lit up Arendelle from time to time. Cocking her head to the side, Elsa wondered if the forest was trying to tell her something else. Well, there was only one way to find out. “Come on, Gale,” she said to the wind, the name oddly popping into her head unexpectedly as if she had known it all along. As if to answer her question, Elsa felt the Wind Spirit rustle through her hair and wrap around her before dancing off to her left. Laughing she summoned up more snow and shot it off in Gale’s direction watching the wind pick it up and weave a path of light and magic to lead her way. Pulling her hair down, Elsa felt it whip in the wind and could not help but laugh. This feeling it felt like freedom; freedom she never had in Arendelle! Tossing up jets of magical snow, Elsa laughed again as she turned and sprinted after Gale, the Wind Spirit, and the forest.

All thoughts of the voice calling her back to Arendelle forgotten...