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mikavlcs · 1 year

Text

Reverie

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x cryomancer!reader

Summary: In the midst of investigating, a figure from your past returns, sending you into a panic. Wednesday is there to help pick up the pieces (and maybe get some revenge too).

Warnings: panic attack, implied abuse and violence, blood, reader is a Simp, it gets a bit morbid near the end lol, abrupt ending

Word count: 5.5k (sigh)

Notes: this fic made me realize just how much i struggle with character descriptions... but anyways this is a long request for literally the nicest anon ever, whoever you are i hope you enjoy this!

Masterlist | Part 2

Silence was something that you cherished.

Throughout the years, the numerous group homes, revolving door of foster parents, and whirlwind of schools you attended instilled a yearning for calm and quiet. A need for peace to soothe your daily anxieties.

Loud noises were bothersome, they reminded you of things better left forgotten which is why you put forth your best effort to avoid them wherever you ended up.

Nevermore Academy was no different.

Though it was a school for outcasts, it was still a school. A place that housed hundreds of rowdy, unruly teenagers for the better part of the year. And teenage outcasts were still teenagers.

You learned quickly to avoid the quad at all times of day except after curfew, the only time when it was completely empty save for some roaming teachers.

Lunches were spent in empty classrooms instead of the cafeteria and free time was spent exploring the campus for a place to claim as your own, like you have in every place you inhabited over the years.

But luck, it seemed, was not on your side because not a single place you found fit your needs.

Sure, there were quieter places like the library or the dorms (depending on the hour), but it was rare that found a place that offered actual meaningful silence.

Surprisingly, the solution to your problem came the moment you looked beyond the cramped campus of the school, and that solution was the forest.

The vast woodland that separated Nevermore and Jericho was thick, comprised of thousands of trees, and filled with life of all kinds—tall, vibrant green trees, a myriad of bird species, scampering squirrels, and even foxes during parts of the year.

Unfortunately, not all of the life that resided there was welcome. You heard whispers of something in the forest killing unsuspecting hikers and truckers. The mayor said it was bears, but you knew better.

Knowledge of the danger that lurked amongst the trees only made the woods that much more enticing to you. You trusted your ability to keep yourself safe with your powers. A wall of ice was a simple thing for you to create, but not for someone (or something) else to break.

The forest became your safe haven. Because of the murders, both students and Jericho residents alike tended to keep their distance, which made your solitude nearly guaranteed.

The chirping of birds in the distance and whistling of the trees in the wind made for a beautiful ambiance to read in. And it remained unequivocally yours for the first part of the semester.

Then a new student arrived mid-semester.

You never went out of your way to look for her, knowing you would hate that kind of attention yourself, but you still managed to see glimpses. Truthfully, she was hard to miss.

A girl dressed head to toe in black, twin braids framed a permanently impassive face, dead eyes set on the path in front of her. With her came a sense of foreboding, like storm clouds on the horizon. You would’ve sworn she was also a cryomancer with the way she seemed to chill the atmosphere around her.

Students parted like the Red Sea when she walked through the halls, determined to avoid her wrath. Given the few rumors you heard in passing across the school, you supposed you couldn’t blame them.

But those glimpses were few and far between, mere moments when your eyes caught a flash of monochrome, then she was gone.

She shared a handful of classes with you, but she was always seated across the room from you, just out of your sightline. By the time class ended and you got your things together to leave, she was on her way to her next class.

The first time you truly saw her was in passing.

You were at your spot in the woods, resting your back against the broad trunk of a tree as you read when the sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention. Curious, you glanced up toward the sound and sure enough, there she was a few meters away heading in your direction.

She paused when your eyes met but remained silent. The only indication of surprise was the way her eyes narrowed, brows lowering ever so slightly.

“It’s dangerous to be out here alone, you know,” she said. Her voice was cold as a winter breeze. You liked it, it suited her.

“I could say the same to you,” you shrugged, turning your attention back to your book. You kept your focus on your story, eyes dutifully scanning the sentences, but in your peripherals, you could see her still standing there.

Another moment passed before she resumed walking, heading off in the direction she had been going before and you couldn’t help the way your eyes lifted to the retreating figure, following her until she was completely out of sight.

A curious encounter, but not one you ended up giving much thought to.

Then she showed up again.

Only the very next day did she appear once more, the circumstances exactly the same as before. You read, she walked. Except this time she didn’t pause, just kept marching past you.

Same with the next day. And the next. And the next. You were almost convinced that you two had a pseudo routine when, with no warning, it changed.

One rather humid afternoon, you heard her footsteps and didn’t bother looking up, knowing she would just continue on her way. But today she didn’t. Today, her steps faltered as she went by you, and above your book, you saw her pivot.

Your eyes were drawn up by the unfamiliar movement. Brows furrowed, you watched as she settled against a tree opposite of you and rummaged around in her bag, pulling a textbook and paper out.

From where you were, you couldn’t see what the paper was, but the book you immediately recognized. It was a textbook for Botany—one of the few classes you shared with her. The paper must’ve been the homework that you finished in class.

You were almost tempted to offer your help, but you knew she had no need for it.

So you turned your attention back to your book, reading a bit slower with the distraction of the girl across from you.

The worksheet, unsurprisingly, took Wednesday all of ten minutes to complete, but she stayed there with you for the better part of the afternoon, pulling out a book after she finished the homework.

Not a word was spoken between either of you, not even an exchange of names. Just you, her, and the blissful, silent serenity of the forest around you.

She left at sundown, packing her things and walking away without sparing a glance your way. You left soon after, a smile pulling at your lips.

When she returned the next day, that same smile appeared. Even when she didn’t stop to sit.

Your pseudo routine had shifted.

Some days she left to venture into the forest, some days she stayed with you. And though you were content to just sit with her when she allowed it, you couldn’t help but wonder where she went off to on the days she chose to keep walking.

Your answer ended up coming from Enid. The girl had asked to sit next to you in Vampire Anatomy class and you didn’t have the heart to say no.

Through the blog posts that Enid insisted you read, you learned that her name was Wednesday Addams, and she was trying to find the “monster” that lurked in Jericho’s forest.

Your existing interest was piqued after that. The urge to tag along with her pulled at you every time you watched her disappear into the forest, but you tried to ignore it.

Though true crime had always been a passing interest, it wasn’t something you knew quite enough about to be of any actual use to Wednesday.

Still, you couldn’t help but try.

When you asked to join Wednesday in her investigation, you expected a cold and firm no. Instead, she neither accepted nor declined your offer. Simply looked at you, normally dull eyes shining chaotic as lightning, then walked off into the forest, leaving you scrambling to catch up.

Thus began your actual new routine. You’d head to the forest after class, read until Wednesday arrived, and wait until she informed you of her afternoon plans.

If she sat against the tree that you’d begun to call hers, then the afternoon hours would be spent together in blissful silence. But if she didn’t, she would walk past you, only pausing briefly to spare you a glance, extending a silent invitation that you always accepted.

Afternoons that weren’t spent in the serenity of the forest were spent acquiring evidence, gathering information, and sussing out any potential suspects.

Weeks of slow, but steady progress were made (mostly by Wednesday) and you enjoyed every second of it.

She still didn’t offer up much information about herself—her likes and interests (aside from general morbidity) were never so much as alluded to during your time investigating, but you liked that.

In your mind, she was like a puzzle that not many had the patience to put together. But you enjoyed the intrigue, savored the challenge.

You kept much of your own history to yourself as well. If asked you would say that you did it in a bid to make yourself seem more mysterious, but really you just didn’t like talking about it.

The past was something you desperately just wanted to forget and Wednesday excelled at making you do just that, even if she didn’t know it.

Before you knew it, you found yourself falling for her in a way you never had before. But who could blame you, really?

A short, but statuesque figure with eyes like black ice and a constellation of freckles scattered across her cheeks that put the stars to shame. How anyone couldn’t be entranced at first glance was beyond you.

Your closeness with Wednesday, even if only for professional purposes on her end, served to further the distance between you and your classmates but you didn’t particularly care. What they feared, you admired and while you could understand their fear, you couldn’t fathom ever being afraid of Wednesday. Even at her most grotesque, she was enchanting.

Stupid as it may be, you’d follow her anywhere. You knew that, once you exhausted your welcome, she would likely discard you, but until then you’d just sit back and enjoy the ride with her.

This sentiment led you to Outreach Day.

To put it simply, Outreach Day was a goddamn mess.

Part of your day was spent in a pilgrim-themed dystopian hellscape trying to find information on Joseph Crackstone, another deep in the forest behind Jericho, searching the dilapidated remains of a meeting house from centuries ago.

Naturally, this culminated in the two of you getting chased by the very monster you were trying to investigate, which certainly wasn’t part of your plans for the day when you woke up, but with Wednesday you never really knew what you were going to get.

Fortunately, your near-death experience wasn’t for naught because you had learned one incredibly important fact.

The monster, whatever it was, was human. It was someone that either lived in Jericho or attended Nevermore Academy with you and Wednesday. Likely, it was someone they had already interacted with, knowingly or not.

That thought haunted you the entire long walk back into Jericho. So much so that Wednesday had to tell you to calm down because you were freezing the rain around you into snow and leaving icy footprints wherever you walked.

By the time you stepped back into the town, you were ready to go to your dorm and call it a night. Thankfully, the day was almost over. The only thing standing between you and your bed was the stupid statue unveiling everyone was forced to attend.

You were walking to the town square when it happened.

Thoughts about the monster’s identity were just starting to abate, boredom taking its place as you entered Jericho proper. Wednesday was beside you, matching your strides perfectly while she talked with Thing about something you couldn’t quite hear.

Even in the middle of the day, the town wasn’t bustling (though when was it ever?). A few residents peppered the streets, going about their day quietly while you and Wednesday passed them.

You idly scanned the town goers, eyes snagging on a woman on the opposite end of the road who looked oddly familiar.

The woman had her head turned, appearing to be on the phone with someone. You watched her carefully, slowing your pace slightly, and when she finally turned her head, it instantly clicked.

Walking down that street was your former foster parent, Mary.

You could remember the day you met her like it was yesterday.

It had been years since you’d been adopted out and swiftly swept back into the system once your last family found out that you were an outcast. You’d been told that someone was finally interested in you again and you were overjoyed to meet them.

Mary was a tall woman with a kind smile and the name of a catholic saint. You weren’t religious, but you figured (hoped) that it had to mean something.

You thought her your savior, your ticket out of the system forever, and she ended up being responsible for the worst years of your life.

When you snapped back to the present, you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Wednesday was a few steps ahead, giving you a strange look. You wanted to explain or, better yet, grab her and drag her out of the town entirely, but it was too late. Mary was already looking your way.

Your eyes met and suddenly, you were twelve again. Angry shouts reverberated in your ears, mimicking the way they echoed off the cramped walls of the house. You saw yourself cowering in the face of her anger, shrinking into yourself as much as you could.

There was a flurry of movement, a sharp crack, and even now you swore you could feel the sting of the impact on your cheek.

She hated you, and you could still see remnants of that hatred now, even from across the street.

Distantly, you could hear Wednesday say something, but the sound was muffled by the roar of your blood in your ears. Despite the cool temperature, you were beginning to sweat, heart rate gradually picking up as you stared at the ghost from your past.

Mary hung up the phone and started toward you. That was all you needed.

The last thing you felt was the brush of cold fingers on your wrist before you ran.

You ran and ran and ran, feet carrying you as fast as physically possible. There was no real destination in mind, just away from her.

When the burning in your chest became unbearable, you stumbled into an alley. Your chest heaved and just as you were going to try and catch your breath, your legs crumpled beneath you, sending you careening into the nearest wall. You slid down to the ground and squeezed your knees to your chest.

Clarity evaded you no matter how much you tried to find it. You had seen people you knew in public before, even your other former foster parents, so you had no idea why seeing her was affecting you so badly.

Your heart pulsed endlessly in your chest, blood pumping through your veins like you were moving at a million miles per hour, yet you were frozen, your body permanently suspended in motion. A living contradiction that you couldn’t make any sense of.

The pain in your chest intensified, drawing your limbs in to try and relieve the ache. It felt as if your body was trying to collapse in on itself, like a dying star.

Tears gathered in your eyes, and you were helpless to stop them from streaming down your cheeks as the ache grew.

For an awful moment, you genuinely thought you were going to die.

A flash of movement and suddenly there was something—no, someone in front of you. They crouched before you, their face coming into view and familiar dark orbs stared at you in a way you’d never seen before.

Wednesday.

Relief momentarily cut through your misery. You figured she would find you at some point, likely after the ceremony, but the fact that she was here now made something other than agony bubble in your chest.

Suddenly, you noticed that her lips were moving. She was saying something. You tried to focus your hearing against the chaos, but nothing could be heard over the erratic beating in your chest. Frustration mounted, making you further curl into yourself.

Wednesday moved a bit closer, stopping just short of you so she was the only thing in your line of sight. This time you were just able to catch the tail end of her statement. “-st look at me.”

You complied.

“Identify five things that you can see. You don’t have to say them out loud,” she instructed you, slowly and firmly.

You took in her words, but your eyes never strayed from her.

The first thing you saw was her eyes. So dark that they appear black in most settings, but under direct sunlight they reveal themselves to be the most beautiful shade of brown you’ve ever seen. Second was her hair, the way her wet fringe clumped together, forming short tendrils on her forehead.

Next, you were drawn to the starry sea of freckles on her cheeks. The temptation to try and count them tugged at you. You disregarded it, wanting to complete the task at hand for Wednesday.

Your eyes moved to trace her jaw, number four on your list. It was clenched, the way it always was when she was either angry or worried about something. You briefly wondered which one she felt now.

Her lips were the fifth and final feature you saw. You didn’t let yourself think about them for long, simply cataloged them.

Once you mentally documented all five, you looked to Wednesday, your breaths coming somewhat more consistently.

“Got it?” she asked, voice sounding a bit clearer now. You nodded. She continued. “Alright, now four things you can feel.”

You stiffly unclasped your hands and set them on the ground at your sides.

Surprisingly, the first thing you felt beneath your fingers was the solid frigidity of ice. In your panic, you must’ve partially frozen the alleyway around you. The warmth of the air around you told you that you hadn’t frozen too much, thankfully. You counted the temperature as your second.

Third, you felt the weight of your soaked clothes. The way they clung to your skin pulled a small grimace from you. That segwayed directly into the fourth thing you felt—your wet hair. Droplets of water were still running down the back of your neck from it, making you shiver. Lastly, you felt the rough, uneven texture of the brick wall at your back.

Moving up slightly, you turned back to Wednesday, who was watching you attentively, and gave her a firmer nod. The tension in your chest was beginning to dissipate.

“Three things you can hear.”

Your ears perked and you tried to focus on the noises around you. Even on its busiest days, Jericho was a relatively quiet little town, so it was easy to hear things you normally wouldn’t be able to in more densely populated places.

The first thing your ears picked up was the chime of a ringtone a block or two away. A pop song, the kind that Wednesday detested. Second was a loud giggle from someone that sounded suspiciously like Enid. The sound of it almost made you smile. And third, the clatter of a cup onto the ground and an angry curse that immediately followed it.

Someone must’ve dropped their coffee. Again, you almost smiled. Your heart began to slow in your chest, the ache there subsiding as well.

Eyes returning to the girl in front of you, you nodded.

“Two things you can smell.”

That was easy. Wednesday’s usual scent of old books and incense was present, mixed with traces of wet grass, a reminder of your earlier excursion. Another smell you could identify was the pungent odor of days-old garbage. Your nose scrunched. Of course, you chose an alleyway with a dumpster.

Your posture loosened, muscles relaxing as you sent Wednesday yet another nod.

“One thing you can taste.”

The metallic taste of blood on your tongue almost made you startle. Pain flared in your cheek, an answer to your question of where it came from. You weren’t sure when you bit it, and presently, you didn’t really care.

Swallowing harshly, you gave the girl before you a shaky thumbs up. The firm set of her jaw relaxed as she continued to observe you. You returned the favor, gently resting your chin on your knees as you watched her.

“Who was she?” she asked, tone softer than usual.

Not expecting the question, you blinked. “Hm?”

“The woman, who was she?”

You swallowed. This was never something you wanted Wednesday to know about, but you supposed she deserved some sort of explanation after helping you.

“Former foster parent. Just one of the many people to hurt me over the years,” you admitted with a wry chuckle.

Wednesday didn’t laugh.

The faint sound of instruments caught your attention. It seemed that you were officially missing the unveiling.

“Shouldn’t you be playing?” you asked, remembering Weems’ comment about Wednesday’s cello earlier that day.

“The Jericho high school band doesn’t need me. You do. Weems will get over it.” She maneuvered herself to sit down next to you, bringing her knees up to mimic your pose. The space between you was virtually nonexistent, but she still wasn’t quite touching you, which you appreciated.

A few minutes passed in silence. The lingering effects of your panic began to fade, leaving behind an all-encompassing tiredness that nearly made you slump over.

Beside you, Wednesday sat perfectly still, occasionally sending glances that you pretended not to notice for her sake.

The chill she emanated was too soothing for you to really care about it anyways. You resisted the urge to lean closer, to steal more of it for yourself. But you just further lowered your body temperature with your powers instead.

You rested your head back against the wall. Honestly, just being within such close proximity of Wednesday was nice. You swore you could stay sitting there all day with her if time allowed…

An explosion in the distance made you jump. Concerned, you turned to Wednesday who looked much too unsurprised for it to be a coincidence. Only now did you notice Thing’s conspicuous absence. Brows furrowing, you leaned forward. “Wednesday, what did you do?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” she replied easily, lips quirking at the screams of terror that arose from the town square. Promptly, she stood and tilted her head down at you. “Come on, we need to secure our seats at the back of the bus.”

A soft nod was all you could manage in response. Standing was more of a struggle than you anticipated, your exhaustion so heavy it felt as if it settled into your very bones and weighed your limbs down, but after a few attempts, you were on your feet.

The moment you gained a semblance of stability, Wednesday snagged your sleeve and tugged you out of the alley, her grip gentler than you’d expect as she guided you back to the bus. You didn’t miss the joyful spark in her eyes at the chaos unfolding around the town.

When you arrived at the bus, the door was wide open and your companion wasted no time hauling you both inside, immediately making a beeline for the back row. She stopped in front of the seats you occupied on the ride into Jericho, dropping your sleeve as she stepped aside for you to sit.

You gave her a tired smile, grateful that she was giving you the window this time, and collapsed onto the seat. Wednesday slipped in right after you, sitting noticeably closer this time. Close enough that her arm lightly rested against yours.

Heat flared in your cheeks, but you didn’t dare point it out. You just rested your head against the window and closed your eyes.

The slow arrival of other students and staff barely registered, your focus altering between the events of the hour prior, and the comfortingly cold weight of Wednesday’s arm pressing against yours.

The bus ride back to school passed by in a blur and you were being pulled off the bus by Wednesday before you even realized it had stopped.

In a similar fashion, Wednesday dragged you by the sleeve to your dorm, all but shoving you toward your closet once inside.

“Get changed and get some rest. I will return in a few hours after I deal with something,” she said, eyeing you as she edged back toward the door.

“Where are you going?” you asked, concerned that she would try to continue investigating by herself. Wednesday turned to you, and for a moment you were convinced she would tell you that “what she did was none of your concern” or just leave altogether without a word, but at the last second her demeanor shifted.

“It’s nothing to do with the monster. I won’t be putting myself in danger in any way, you have my word,” she assured you, tone firm. There was no room for argument, and if you were being honest, you were compelled to believe her anyway.

You nodded slowly. “Ok.”

She held your gaze for another second then turned and strode out the door. You stayed standing in your spot until her footsteps faded completely.

Fatigue weighed on you once more and that was enough motivation for you to quickly shower and change into dry clothes. You abandoned your discarded uniform in the bathroom to dry, halfheartedly trudging to your bed and flopping down on it.

Scattered thoughts littered your brain, taking you from one turbulent topic to the next. Crackstone, Wednesday’s vision, the monster, Mary—until Wednesday herself came up and instantly everything else was irrelevant.

You thought about the way she treated you today, how she helped you, how she touched you. It made you much happier than it ought to.

As your eyes slipped shut, you wondered about where she could be. You just hoped she was safe.

Finally, your exhaustion overtook you, thoughts of Wednesday sending you into a deep slumber.

Hours later, you were woken by a sharp knock on your door.

The harsh sound nearly sent you tumbling out of bed. You were half-tempted to not answer it, but Wednesday said she’d be back later and the last thing you wanted to do was keep her waiting.

So you dragged yourself out of bed and opened the door, smiling when you were met with Wednesday’s usual deadpan stare. She walked past you into your dorm, not bothering to wait for an invitation she knew you’d give her, and while you shut the door, you took the chance to look at her.

She appeared unharmed. Her uniform, now dry, was perfectly situated as always and not a single hair on her head was displaced. She looked as if she’d just returned from a peaceful walk through the woods, but something told you that was far from the truth.

Wednesday walked over to set her bag down on your desk, carefully slipping something out of it before turning to face you. She beckoned you over and you complied.

“I was told to give this to you.” She extended an envelope in your direction.

A brow raised as you took the envelope, inspecting it closely. You never got mail, so you were immediately suspicious, but it looked harmless enough. A simple, white envelope, entirely blank besides the small writing of your name on the back.

Curious, you ripped it open and to your surprise, it was a letter from Mary. The scrawl was messier than usual, almost panicked, but the handwriting was distinctly hers. You read through it slowly, your initial apprehension turning to disbelief.

The letter detailed all of her transgressions against you and how genuinely, unerringly apologetic she was for hurting you.

Under the body of text, her name was written in a red ink so dark, you’d think that it was blood… And there was a smudge of crimson at the bottom of the page. As if the ink had been crudely spilled onto the paper.

You knew you shouldn’t be finding enjoyment in this. Frankly, you should be terrified but the feeling that bloomed in your chest was the furthest thing from fear.

“Is it to your liking?” she asked, jaw set in determination. The look in her eyes told you that if you said no, she would go back to Mary and make her write another one. If she was still alive that is.

“Yes, it is,” you said, dumbfounded, “but you really didn’t need to do anything, Wednesday.”

“She deserved it,” she retorted, a touch of hostility in her tone. A beat. Then, “You said there were others. If you give me their names, I will hunt them down and seek retribution on your behalf.”

The declaration shouldn’t have made your cheeks warm, nor should the bloodthirsty look in her eyes, but it did. It was equal parts horrifying and charming—the perfect cocktail of emotions to get your heart racing.

Maybe Wednesday was starting to rub off on you more than you thought.

“That…won’t be necessary,” you said slowly. You knew you should just leave it; you really did. But you couldn’t help yourself. “How exactly did you find out where she was staying?”

The ghost of a smirk appeared on her lips, all traces of hostility replaced with blatant self-assuredness. “I have my ways.”

Her blatant cockiness pulled a laugh out of you, the first of the day in fact. You wondered if you were imagining the relief in Wednesday’s eyes at the sound. Turning back to the paper, you sobered a bit.

“Wednesday, seriously, thank you. This is more than most people have ever done for me,” you admitted. The ethics of whether you should be thanking her be damned, this was a touching gesture in your mind. Shameful or not, you were going to properly thank her.

The sudden emotional vulnerability seemed to catch her off guard, eyes widening slightly. But she caught herself quickly. Her eyes darkened a bit and her smirk softened, turning into something suspiciously akin to an actual smile. “Believe me, it was my pleasure.”

Another wave of warmth rushed through you, and you prayed that it wasn’t visible on your cheeks. It struck you that this was the first time you’d ever seen a (possibly) genuine smile on her face.

With that, the room lapsed into silence and like always, you let it sit between you.

She, too, let the quiet linger, holding your gaze with a confidence only she possessed. For just a moment, her eyes flicked downward, the movement so fast it was nearly imperceptible.

Nearly.

It was over just as quickly as it began and by the time you properly registered it, Wednesday was straightening up, dark eyes fixed on yours once more.

“Our investigation will resume tomorrow assuming there are no more unplanned interruptions. Meet me in my dorm after classes tomorrow.”

“Of course,” you responded automatically, still trying to figure out if what you saw was real or another possible figment of your imagination.

She headed for the door, and you panicked. You wanted to say something, anything to get her to stay for just one more moment. But nothing came to mind (nothing you had the courage to say, anyways).

Suddenly, she paused, turned to face you once more.

“Good night.”

You smiled. “Good night, Wednesday.”

A final nod and she was out the door, closing it behind her with a soft click.

Again, you stayed there until the echo of her footsteps was no more. You looked down at the letter in your hand, pursing your lips. Reluctantly, you set it down on your desk. You would unpack all of your feelings regarding it later. Now, you had more pressing things to deal with.

For the second time, you flopped onto your bed, but this time, sleep was the last thing on your mind. In its place was the girl that chilled you with her presence mere minutes prior.

The smile on your face was immovable, as if it were permanently etched into your skin. You replayed the conversation over and over again in your head, highlighting the moments before she left.

You wondered, maybe pointlessly, if she could possibly like you back… Either way, you supposed it didn’t really matter now.

Even if she didn’t feel what you did, today’s ministrations proved that she at least cared for you on some level. That simple fact was enough to send you into a high unlike any other.

The idea of her actually reciprocating your feelings only propelled you further, your giddiness threatening to swallow you whole as you lay in your bed.

You spent the remainder of your night in a quiet daze, your mind consumed with nothing but familiar obsidian eyes and an addictively deadly smirk.

#wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega #cryomancer is easily one of the coolest words i've ever seen btw #like look at that shit. it's awesome #oh and no offense to anyone named mary btw #i knew a very nice girl with that name #it was just the first thing i thought of while writing-

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keepingitneutral · 3 months

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Pinwheel Shelter, Upper Susa Valley, Italy,

Perched 2,850 meters above sea level, the Pinwheel Shelter represents a remarkable fusion of architectural innovation and a heartfelt tribute to the late alpinist Stefano Berrone.

This mountain refuge employs prefabricated Cross-Laminated Timber (CLT) panels and aluminium cladding to achieve both aesthetic elegance and environmental sensitivity.

Inside, the design is both functional and symbolic, with a central fireplace and sleeping areas arranged around it, reminiscent of traditional Japanese tatami mat proportions. T

By providing a safe haven for climbers and hikers in a region prone to sudden meteorological changes, the shelter serves a vital function while celebrating Berrone's legacy.

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watatsumiis · 11 months

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A Friend in the Shallows - a Mermaid!Kaveh x reader drabble

Pretty much exactly what it says on the tin! An extraordinarily late Mermay drabble!!

Content: Mermaid!Kaveh and gender neutral reader. Not inherently shippy or romantic, just a little drabble! A very light helping of angst towards the end.

It’s a relief, finally making it out to the forest again after nearly a week of constant storms. It feels like a brand new place, with a fresh coat of lush green paint to match. Branches and debris are scattered about everywhere, and you almost get lost a few times before finally recognising the two crossed trees that signal the clearing your safe haven rests in.

The water seems to be calm and still as you approach, barely a ripple on the surface. The azure pool is much deeper than it looks from the surface most days, but today you can clearly see just how far the depths go, even around the leaves and sticks scattered about.

A soft breeze blows through, disturbing the water and pulling you out of your thoughts. You look around for a few moments before spotting your preferred place to sit - a broad, flat rock nestled amongst the roots of a large, twisted birch tree. You clear some leaf mulch from it before sitting down and opening up your book, settling in to read.

The creatures of the forest make for nice companionship, despite the chill in the air. It’s not long before you recognise the cacophony of the duck family that has come to recognise your presence here, and smile in relief upon realising that they seemed to have made it through the recent storms just fine.

A while passes, and the wind begins to pick up a little more, and eventually you mark your place and set your book down beside you to regard the ducks, floating around in the pond. They seem to be focused on one area in particular, underneath a large clump of branches and bushes that seems to have grown since you were last here. They’re floating by it, pecking at the low-hanging branches and occasionally fluttering their wings.

You can’t help but frown at the sight, wondering if there might be something wrong. It takes you a while to muster up the courage to approach. You can just make out a figure in the shadows underneath the heavy layer of leaves, and redouble your pace.

Your heart drops as you wonder if it might be a body, some unfortunate hiker caught out in the storm, and you quickly begin to pull off the layers of branches from the other side, while the ducks nip and fuss about from the water.

“Hey, hey, hey!” A voice comes from within the bushes, startling you out of your stupor. “You hooligans!” They complain. “That is enough!” You hear a splash and freeze as the ducks scatter, quickly beginning to question if this is when you should be starting to run. “I was asleep!” You take a few steps back as the makeshift shelter shudders, and something large slides out from under the leaves and into the pond with a shimmer.

“That’s what I thought!” The person in the water shakes their fist at the retreating ducks. “You are not very nice neighbours you know! This happens again and I’ll be cooking one of you up for dinner!” Though, even as he speaks, you see him adjust the direction of his waving to help spook one of the ducklings off in the direction of its family before it can get lost in the reeds.

“Uhm.” You begin awkwardly, unsure of how to confront this situation. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were in there.” You take another few steps away from his shelter.

“Oh!” The person whirls around quickly, seemingly just as shocked as you are to see someone else here. “I-uh. Hello there.” His brown eyes meet yours, and his perfect eyebrows arch upwards. “You’re a human.” He observes, before you can say anything else.

“And…you’re not?” You respond dryly, setting your hands on your hips.

“Yes. Well, no - actually, kind of - I mean - I’m not human. Technically.” He stumbles over his words as he gestures vaguely. “Does being partially human count for anything?”

“What do you mean?” You frown at him as he flounders, twirling his long blond hair around his fingers, showing off the brown tips as he tilts his head to the side.

“I’m a mermaid.” He announces, with no preamble or beating around the bush. “Well, merman, I guess, if you want to be pedantic. I have yet to meet any mer who uses that title.” His chattering increases in speed, giving you no chance to butt in. “Humans made it up, actually, which is like - that’s fine, I suppose, but our biology is much more complicated than that, and-”

“A mermaid?” You manage to echo after a few moments, and the man in the pond stops in his tracks, looking up at you in a way that could either be mildly offended or somewhat amused. Now he’s still, you can see white, gold and orange scales beneath the surface of the water, shimmering softly in the light. Sprawling fins swish back and forth absently, though the mermaid is sitting in the shallows, his weight resting on the rocks and plants.

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” He narrows his eyes, a hint of a smile pulling at his lips.

You quickly avert your gaze. “Sorry.” You mumble sheepishly, cheeks warming.

He shakes his head good-naturedly and flicks his hair back. “Anyways,” he says, perking up. You brace yourself for another rant. “What’s your name?”

You introduce yourself, and the mermaid practically beams. “That’s a lovely name.” He comments, then falls silent for a few awkward moments before he remembers his manners. “I’m Kaveh, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Kaveh.” You offer a small smile, and the surface of the water ripples as Kaveh’s tail flicks about, stirring the small plants growing in the shallows.

“What brings you all the way out here?” He adjusts his position, turning his back to you as he moves towards the deeper part of the pool. “The nearest human village is…” He gestures somewhat vaguely in a direction that you most certainly did not come from. “A while away.”

You walk around the outskirts of the pool to stay in his line of sight as you answer. “Well, I come here a lot.” You inform him. “To read, do papers, write, those kinds of things. It’s…quiet.” You shuffle your feet and look down to watch the crisp green grass spring up where you’d been standing just a moment ago. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I…ah, I’ve been hanging around a while since that big storm, y’know. Taking in the scenery, helping out, waiting for inspiration… That kind of thing.” Kaveh smiles airily and waves one dainty hand about.

It doesn’t take long for you to see through his charade. “You’re stuck, aren’t you?” You raise an eyebrow.

Kaveh seems to wither in on himself a little, crinkling his nose up in distaste. “Perhaps just a little.” He admits after a few moments.

You can’t help but laugh, and his tail flicks back and forth, shimmering in the dappled sunlight coming through the leaves as his pointed ears take on a distinct downward tilt. “Well, where did you come from? Can’t you go back?”

Kaveh lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Theoretically, yes.” He waves a hand about. “I’m drawing up a schematic for a device that will be able to carry me through the forest and back home.” He taps a pouch on his hip. “There are just a few bits and pieces I need that I can’t find here. Wheels, elastics, those kinds of things.”

“Oh.” You mull over the problem for a few moments, scratching your chin in thought. “Well…Maybe I might be able to help you with some of it.” You run over your budget in your head, and vaguely wonder where you’d be able to source the cheapest wheels from.

“Really?” The way his face lights up is akin to watching the sun come out from behind a cloud, and his fins flare out in excitement while his tail all but wags, sending a few small fish darting back towards the outskirts of the pond.

“I mean, I don’t see why not.” You manage to smile, though you’re a little preoccupied with trying to figure out the exact way you’d go about all this, when you’d come down to help. “I couldn’t just leave you stuck here.”

“You know, I think my housemate would like you.” Kaveh informs you with a cheeky smile that suggests that perhaps his housemate is a touch more judgemental than he’s letting on.

“Mermaids have houses?” You ask, before you can stop yourself. “And housemates?” You try to picture it in your head, but all you can come up with is an image of a mermaid palace from a book you read as a child.

“What, did you think we just flop upside-down and float down the river like dead fish when we get tired?” He scoffs, rolling onto his back in the shallows with a dramatic flourish, sending a spray of water showering over you as he flicks his fins, his piebald-patterned scales glimmering in the dappled light of the clearing.

You yelp in surprise and shield your face from the cold droplets. “Hey!” You scold him lightheartedly. He gives you a grin that’s somewhere between apologetic and mischievous.

“Come on, let me show you the schematic.” Kaveh tells you suddenly, pulling a rolled up scroll of something that looks akin to paper, but a little more sturdy. “Come on, get over here, I’m not drying myself out sitting in the dirt with you.” He waves you over.

You both spend the next few hours poring over his schematics - he shows you a few other projects he was working on before the storm, while you both exchange details about your own respective lives. You share a bit of the lunch you packed, and he offers you some interesting little edible plant wraps from one of his satchels in return.

Before you know it, the sun is beginning to set, and the clearing is getting darker faster than you’re comfortable with. You sigh regretfully and make to pull yourself into a standing position. “I’m sorry, Kaveh, I should go.” You look up at the sky, splotched with light grey clouds.

“Wait.” Before you can straighten out, you feel Kaveh’s cold hand around your wrist, and his brown eyes fix you with a doleful look.

“What is it?” You ask, a little worried that he was under the impression that you were going to stay here overnight, or come back with his supplies today.

“You…” His voice seems to die in his throat, which comes as a bit of a shock to you - even though you’ve only known him for a couple of hours, it seems like he’s always got something to say, and no measure of impulse control to stop him from saying it. “You’ll come back, right?” He tries for a smile, but it comes out a little wobbly and nervous.

“Of course. I said I would, didn’t I?” You return his smile, though the intensity in his gaze feels almost intimidating.

“I- well, yeah, yeah, you did.” Kaveh lets you go, shrugging his shoulders as if he’s shedding a heavy backpack. “Just, be safe, won’t you?” He tilts his head to the side. “I mean, you’re my ticket out of here.” He runs his fingers through his hair and lets out a little laugh that turns into an awkward cough as you don’t laugh along.

There’s something in his gaze, some sad sort of longing that makes you realise for the first time that he’s carrying a heavy loneliness within him, one that stems from something more than the few days he’s spent isolated in this little clearing. It makes your heart ache. “I’ll be back.” You assure him. “I promise.”

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagiarise my writing! I do not consent for my works to be translated and posted elsewhere, or used to teach bots!

#kaveh #kaveh x reader #genshin kaveh #kaveh x you #kaveh x y/n #kaveh fluff #genshin x reader #my writing #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin self insert #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #platonic genshin x reader #mermay #mermaid kaveh #mermay genshin #ive never written kaveh before. if you can tell. no you cant. shh. hehe

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danvswild · 3 months

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"Have you ever read Wild?"

Okay this is a question I got all the time when I told anyone that I was hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. And the answer is yes. I also saw a Tik Tok on how to annoy thru-hikers and this question was on the list lol

Well I personally don't mind the question and I bring up this book now because this next part is where Cheryl Strayed began her journey on the PCT. From Mojave/Tehachapi to Kennedy Meadows. This stretch lasts for roughly 150 miles and it took me about 6 days to complete.

After my well earned rest in Tehachapi, I headed back out on the trail to go through one of the most beautiful sections of the trail so far.

This is the foothills of the Sierra so naturally, the terrain changes into a more lush landscape and we began to gain some elevation. The campsites between Tehachapi and Kennedy Meadows were all stunning and at night I could see SO MANY STARS it was unreal.

I also need to note that the water carry out of Tehachapi was the longest by far! I want to say it was close to 40 miles? but don't quote me on this. I was very mindful of my water consumption in this part and hiked FAST trying to catch up to some hikers who left a day before me.

I also want to note I cried the most on this stretch of the trail. Not because of sadness but more so because I was in awe of my surroundings and felt surreal and blessed. This is definitely why I love to be outdoors immersed in nature. The sheer magnitude and beauty of the landscape evokes a certain feeling in you (◕‿◕✿)

^That was where I bawled lol

Anyways, I was able to catch up to my fellow hiker Strider in the next stretch and I made it to Walker Pass. We hitched a ride into Ridgewood and stocked up on some supply to push to Kennedy Meadows!

Fast forwarding a little bit, this next section was very hilly and I witnessed some of the most striking sunsets here. I can't stop recalling how beautiful it was and I keep thinking I need to use the word "beautiful" a bit less lol

Push Push Push

And there I was, in Kennedy Meadows!

Aw man, you wouldn't believe what I felt there. PURE ECSTASY

The fact that I had hiked 700 miles was mindblowing and seeing others who had walked the same journey melded a sense of solidarity and unity in this community.

The common topic of this hiker haven was where to go next. Because of the high snow fall in the Sierras, many decided to bypass and go up north. As for my trail family, we decided to head up to Mammoth Lakes to go skiing for a day and jump up north.

As for me, I had decided to get off the trail to attend Electric Forest and skip up to the Canadian border to hike down lol In retrospect, this was not a good decision.. but I have no regrets! I'll try to talk more about this process in the next post ＼(*T▽T*)／

#backpacking #hiking #pacific crest trail #pct #thru hiking #nature #camping #pct2023 #wild #kennedy meadows

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ashwritesmonsters · 10 months

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The Thru-Hiker (interlude)

Female Reader x Male Mothperson (Desmond)

Prev: [Part 1] Next: [Part 2]

Words: 2k

Note: Just thought I'd put out something sorta cute and short to set up for the rest of Desmond's story! There's more coming, I'm just slow 😭

Long before Willow Grove wakes, Martha has already begun her day. The sky is still painted with stars when she ascends the spiral stairs of the old lighthouse.

Inside her cozy studio, built into the circular brick room just below where the lighthouse's lamp used to be, she brushes a hand over her equipment, the cool metal as familiar and comforting as an old friend.

She pours herself a steaming cup of coffee blacker than night. With the practiced ease of decades, Martha adjusts her headphones, the soft padding a familiar weight against her silver-streaked hair. She takes a moment to gaze out of the window at the slowly brightening sky. From here, she can see the town stirring to life - an early bird Selkie heading out to the sea, the night-shift Mothman flying home, a Lupine yawning on a porch.

As she takes her last sip of coffee, she turns the dials on her control panel, and with a deep breath, she begins another day in Willow Grove. The gentle crackle of the airwaves, then her voice, warm and comforting, fills the silence.

"Good morning, Willow Grove! It's your favorite voice, Martha, back again to brighten up your morning here on WG 98.5. What's the buzz around town, you ask? Well, let's dive in with the morning news!

Remember the Langston's garden gnome that mysteriously disappeared last week? Yes, that cherubic one with the red pointy hat. Well, it's been found! Our mayor's son, Desmond, found it perched on a pine tree during his nightly flight. Nothing like some harmless mischief to add a dash of excitement to our lives, isn't it?

Now, our Selkie friend, Bella, deserves some applause. She's just returned from a successful sardine run. Ah, to be blessed with such fresh catch for the upcoming town bake-off! Do drop by the dock to show some love. I'm sure she's got something delicious in the works.

On the Lupine side of things, have you seen the majestic new mural on the side of the grocer's? Talented painter and Lupine, Marla, has been adding the finishing touches under the moonlight. Don't miss it when you're in town for groceries, it's a true masterpiece.

Now, for the drumroll, folks! In just under two weeks, our favorite time of the year will be upon us. That's right, the annual Founding Festival is right around the corner! I can already taste the moon cakes and hear the shell flutes piping. Mothpeople, Selkies, Lupines, and Humans alike, let's get ready to celebrate the vibrant tapestry that makes Willow Grove our home. So, mark your calendars, folks!

That's all for the morning roundup, Willow Grove. Let's have a splendid day and remember - keep your smiles wide and your hearts open. Martha, signing off. Now, the music."

***

As you stand at the edge of Willow Grove, your heart swells with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. The last leg of your hike along the Appalachian Trail has left you feeling haggard, your once-neat hiking outfit now with far too many holes, and the straps of your camera bag digging into your shoulders. But as you gaze upon the town, you can't help but feel that it was all worth it.

"Here goes nothing," you whisper to yourself, taking a deep breath and stepping onto the cobblestone streets.

The quaint charm of the town immediately envelopes you. The buildings are an eclectic mix of architectural styles – from Victorian cottages to modern storefronts, each adorned with colorful shutters and planter boxes overflowing with flowers. The scent of fresh-baked bread wafts through the air, tempting you to forget everything and eat your way into a carb coma.

"Wow," you murmur under your breath, already feeling your weary limbs lightening at the sight of this picturesque haven. It's unlike any place you've ever been before, and yet, it feels strangely like home.

You walk further into town, your eyes drinking in the lush, wooded surroundings. Leaves of every shade of green rustle gently above you, casting dappled sunlight onto the cobbled path. Birds flit between the branches, their cheerful melodies sounding suspiciously like a welcome. You can't resist snapping a few photos with your trusty film camera, capturing the beauty of this magical place. Maybe Desmond would like these shots; perhaps he'd be proud that you followed through on your promise to visit his hometown.

"Keep it together," you chide yourself, shaking off the butterflies threatening to take flight in your stomach. "You came here for a fresh start, remember?"

But even as you remind yourself of your initial intentions, there's no denying that the thought of possibly bumping into Desmond again sends a thrill down your spine. You went on this insane journey seeking solace in nature and photography after the breakup, but now that you're here, the possibility of rekindling things with Desmond is too close to ignore.

"Focus," you tell yourself firmly, snapping one last photo of a particularly charming ivy-covered house before making your way further into town. "You're here for you, not just for him."

With that in mind, you continue your exploration of Willow Grove, utterly enchanted by its beauty and magic. And as you wander the streets, camera in hand, you can't help but feel that maybe – just maybe – this place is exactly what you need.

"Excuse me," you approach a group of friendly-looking townsfolk, hoping they can point you in the direction of a place to stay. "I just arrived in town and was wondering if there's an inn or something nearby?"

"Of course!" one woman replies with a warm smile. "There's a lovely little bed and breakfast run by a Lupine named Evangeline. It's just down the road, on the left side."

"Thank you," you say gratefully, already feeling welcomed by their kindness.

"By the way," another person chimes in, "You're just in time for our Founding Festival! We're all getting ready for it, so there's a lot of excitement around town."

"Sounds like fun," you reply, imagining the celebrations and camaraderie that must come with a big event in a small town. "I'll definitely check it out."

With their directions in mind, you continue on your way, finding yourself in the town square not long after. A weathered, important-looking statue stands at its center, depicting a Mothman, a Selkie, and a Lupine, all standing tall and proud in unity. The plaque at its base is weathered to the point of being near-unreadable, but it's easy to gather that the town has been quite diverse ever since its founding hundreds of years ago.

Around the statue, townsfolk are busy setting up stalls and decorations, their laughter and cheerfulness filling the air. You can't help but feel a sense of belonging in this close-knit community, and the anticipation of the upcoming festival only fuels your excitement. You raise your camera to your eye, and unlike people in the big cities, the townsfolk don't mind that you're snapping a picture with them in it. If anything, you think they smile a little wider.

After taking in the scene, you make your way to the bed and breakfast, finding it as charming and inviting as described. The scent of fresh-baked bread wafts through the air as you enter, and a fire crackles in the hearth, welcoming you with its warmth. You can't help but smile as you approach the front desk, where a friendly Lupine woman greets you, her fur dark brown and shiny. She's slightly hunched over in a way that makes you think either the ceiling is low or she is huge.

"Welcome to my bed and breakfast," she says with a kind smile, tactfully baring only the faintest hint of her sharp teeth. "I'm Evangeline. How can I help you?"

"Hi, Evangeline," you reply, returning her smile. "I'd like to book a room for a couple of weeks, if that's possible."

"Of course! We have plenty of availability." She begins the check-in process by pulling out an actual paper and pen with her paws, and you feel a sense of relief knowing you've found a place to call home during your time in Willow Grove.

As you settle into your new lodgings, the excitement of the upcoming Founding Festival mingles with the possibility of seeing Desmond again. You remind yourself not to let that prospect overshadow the personal journey you're on, but there's no denying the allure of reconnecting with him. For now, though, you focus on the present — immersing yourself in the charm of Willow Grove, camera always at the ready for picture-perfect moments in this picture-perfect town.

The late afternoon sun filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room as you close the door behind you. Your new temporary sanctuary is cozy, with a plush bed and antique wooden dresser, adorned with framed photos of Willow Grove's natural beauty. The anticipation of meeting Desmond again brings a fluttery sensation to your chest, like butterflies dancing between each heartbeat.

"Alright," you say to yourself, trying to shake off the nerves. "Get it together."

As you unpack your belongings, your thoughts drift back to the night you shared with Desmond on the trail. In the grand scheme of things, it was so brief and quick. But between the vulnerability you both had exposed to each other and the heartfelt conversation around the fire (and the mind-blowing sex), you couldn't help but feel drawn to him. So deeply drawn to him that you were here now.

"Wish I could've called ahead," you mutter, placing your camera on the dresser. "Would that have been less... weird?"

You pause, staring at your reflection in the mirror above the dresser. A tired but determined face gazes back, and you take a deep breath. You paid for two weeks in this room—there's no turning back now.

"Okay, let's think this through," you tell yourself, sitting on the bed. "If Desmond thinks I'm crazy for coming here, I'll just... deal with it. We're both adults. Right? Besides, I didn't come all this way just for him. I came for me too."

You shuck off your dirty windbreaker, shaking your head. You're too tired to think things through. You lay back on the bed, the soft mattress embracing you like a specific long lost lover. The tiredness you feel goes beyond the physical. You're mentally and physically exhausted from living like a cavewoman the past few months. But here, in this cozy little room, surrounded by the enchanting beauty of Willow Grove, you finally feel a sense of peace. The kind of peace that comes from being in a place that feels like home, even if it's your first time being here.

As you close your eyes, you think of Desmond, his chitinous features and piercing carnelian eyes. You can almost feel his touch again, his mandibles on your lips, his strong arms wrapped around your body, his proboscis... elsewhere. You let out a sigh, knowing that there's no point in kidding yourself. You came here for Desmond, and Desmond alone. You're not sure where things stand between the two of you, but you know that there's a connection between you that can't be ignored. Even if it makes you look a little crazy. Okay, a lot crazy.

But for now, you allow yourself to drift into a peaceful slumber. This is the first real bed you've slept in for months, and tomorrow, you'll take the first real shower in months. And also apologize to the kind Lupine lady downstairs for getting your filth all over the sheets.

#ashwritesmonsters #monster x reader #monster x human #terato #exophilia #mothman #mothman x reader

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sagemonsters · 9 months

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Kaia on ko-fi has a blind date with...

Stelios the Centaur

Stelios has the lower body of a chestnut draft horse and the upper half of a muscular, redheaded human man with lots of freckles. He works as a ranger in a large, mountainous wilderness park, and takes his job very seriously. He is always rescuing lost hikers and tending their injuries, and sometimes scaring off bears! He carries emergency medical and food supplies in his saddlebags and always has a helping hand at the ready.

Ecology is Stelios’ primary hobby, and it’s not just for work. He is very passionate about reforesting now-barren former woodland and getting rid of invasive species. He can talk for hours about it, but also wants to hear about your own interests and passions. He understands what it feels like to realize that you’re the only person in the room who truly cares about a particular subject, and knows how to push forward against other peoples’ indifference.

Stelios loves gaming, but unfortunately rarely has time for it due to the nature of his work. He’s easily frustrated by technology and prefers tabletop games to video games (and yes, his D&D characters are primarily druids). When you invite him to a TTRPG session, he makes every effort to clear his schedule and come to the event; he wants to make more friends.

Stelios drinks a lot of coffee… maybe too much. Although he isn’t picky about what kind of coffee he drinks, he makes a point of avoiding chain coffeeshops and tries to support small businesses in his area, especially ones owned by queer folks or else that are havens for marginalized people.

CW for giant arachnid (scorpion) + use of firearms

“Get on my back,” the centaur wearing a ranger’s jacket mutters to you.

“Why?” you mutter back, although you are nonetheless already very close to the centaur’s flank in the steep-sided, marshy gully.

“It’s doing a threat display,” the ranger explains, eyeing the giant swamp scorpion with its enormous, snapping pincers and venom-dripping stinger, “we don’t have much ti—”

The massive arachnid rushes forward at you, its legs thudding into the soft ground. You hoist yourself up onto the centaur’s back faster than you thought possible outside of an adrenaline-fueled emergency, and the centaur wheels around and gallops as fast as he can away from the threat—but not fast enough. The boggy terrain is slowing him down, and the swamp scorpion’s wide, flat feet help it move more quickly.

You pull a pistol out of the holster at your hip, twisting on the ranger’s equine back to fire off a few shots at the scorpion. Even on the back of a struggling centaur, your aim is true, and black ichor gushes from the scorpion’s new injuries. It squeals and twitches in pain, slowing down just long enough for the centaur to reach the end of the gully and start climbing up a slope onto firmer ground. Unwilling to leave its lair, the swamp scorpion remains behind to nurse its wounds.

“You could have used that a little sooner,” the centaur grumbles. “The noise of a few shots might have scared it, at least.”

“I don’t have a permit to hunt scorpions,” you explain. “I wasn’t sure I was allowed to shoot that thing.”

“You would have been in luck if you’d tried—they’re invasive, so we would pay you rather than the other way around—and self-defense is a valid defense against being fined. I’m Stelios, by the way.”

You introduce yourself as well, and Stelios lets you hitch a ride back to the nearest ranger station. Along the way, he offers some suggestions for how to replace your lost hiking and camping gear more cheaply, and you have a good time chatting with him and swapping emergency medical treatment tips. Once at the ranger station, the swamp scorpion’s lair is reported so that a better-equipped team can handle the giant arachnid, and a kindly human ranger offers you a ride in an ATV back to the park’s main entrance.

All in all, it turned out to be a pretty fun-filled day.

see here if you'd like your own blind date with a monster!

#monster romance #monster lover #sage's monster matches #terato x reader #terato #monster x reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #x reader

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kimberly40 · 6 months

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The Ghost Town of Lost Cove:

Lost Cove is located in Yancey County, North Carolina. What once was a thriving mecca for moonshine and timber, Lost Cove is now a ghost town deep in the Pisgah National Forest. Lost Cove was the home to a small community of people from the mid 1800's to the 1950's and it is estimated that around 100 people used to call this town home. Now, all that remains are abandoned homes, rusted cars, crumbling rock walls, and the tombstones of former residents from over a century ago.

What Happened:

In the late 19th and early 20th century the town prospered from farming and logging operations. This brought the railroad into the Blue Ridge community, and with it, more residents. During prohibition the area became a haven for moonshine producers. Due to it’s proximity along the North Carolina and Tennessee border, local law officials couldn’t agree on who had jurisdiction to police the area, which emboldened moonshiners to move to the region for production.

Eventually the timber from logging operations ran low, which led to the decision to halt the railroad service that brought passenger trains through the area. Despite a wagon road, a proper road was never built, and the loss of train service isolated the town residents making it difficult to receive supplies. All of that, combined with the area’s rough terrain, led to a gradual departure of residents until the last known family left in 1957.

Many of the structures that were left behind were consumed by a fire in 2007. However all was not lost (pardon the pun), and adventurous hikers can still find the ruins tucked deep in the forest. You can visit the remains, but only by hiking into the area. There are a couple of ways into the cove, but each requires a full day of in-and-out hiking. The slope can be rather steep in some areas as well so expect dramatic elevation changes

Getting here is a journey in itself. There's two main routes to Lost Cove. The easiest route is the Lost Cove Trail which you'll find from an unlabeled trailhead off Forest Service Road 278. The 2.5-mile trek starts with ascending two miles up a gravel road then leading down Flattop Mountain, eventually ending at Lost Cove. Once here, you can explore the many abandoned buildings, cars, even a small cemetery situated on top of a hill. All places here once breathed with life and although the last remaining resident didn't leave until 1957, it feels as if it's been abandoned for hundreds of years.

•Learn more at https://www.brendajwiley.com/lost_cove.html

•https://www.fs.usda.gov/recarea/nfsnc/recarea/?recid=48550

•https://www.appalachianhistory.net/2021/04/the-vanished-community-of-lost-cove.html

(From Wikipedia and Onlyinyourstate)

#appalachian #appalachian mountains #north carolina #appalachian culture #appalachia #western north carolina #the south #nc mountains #ghost town

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automeris-io-moth · 1 year

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Can we get more of the Amnesiac Hero pretty please?

The kindness of a stranger pt. 3

It had not rained once in the evergreen hills Hero had inhabited for at least four weeks, rain was a rare thing at that time of the year in the area, Villain had explained, the humidity was well maintained by the dense canopy over their heads, and the sunrays barely hit the ground.

But as they drove further and further, the grey clouds above them filled the sky, raindrops falling nonstop over the windshield, harsh wind hitting the crystals. It had lulled Hero to sleep long ago, head resting against the window of the copilot seat.

Usually, the valleys were left alone, tourists found little to do, and the climbs were too treacherous for hikers to explore. They had lived at peace for the short while they could manage, before the heroes discovered where they were. Yet, that night, police lights and sirens approached rapidly, the roads were filled to the brim with trucks, ambulances and black, unlicensed plates.

Villain gripped the wheel, palms turning white from the force. Their haven was to be destroyed before the sun rose, they knew it, the unconscious body of the other Hero would certainly guide them to their cottage.

All that was important was always tightly kept inside a suitcase, ready to grab and go. The knick knacks Villain had bought to make the cottage homey to Hero were replaceable, and still, something still angered them. It had not been the place but the peace what the heroes had disturbed.

No matter, they thought turning to look at Hero, asleep, illuminated by the light of the streetlamp, Villain remembered why they were doing all that for. A getaway to the beach never hurt anyone.

Villain fixed the blanket covering them.

Four hours later, at the side of a road, Hero woke up with the sound of the car doors locking.

The sky was clear again, the coldness of the morning seeping through the windows. Hero buried themselves more into the blanket cocoon made during the night, looking outside to the gas station, trying to get a look of Villain inside, to call their attention to ask them for a bottle of water to calm the ache on their throat.

Hero couldn’t find them.

Perhaps they were in the bathroom, Hero thought, reaching to the door handle.

The door was closed.

The keys were nowhere to be found.

Hero tried again, their door, the pilot’s, the windows wouldn’t go down either.

So they waited.

Only a couple minutes after, Villain left the store, white plastic bags hanging from their right hands, left lifted to fix their face mask.

Hero did not know how their own expression looked, if the trace of panic birthed in their stomach was visible through their eyes, but at sight of them Villain rushed to the car, opening the car quickly, as locking it closed just as fast.

“What’s wrong, love?” Villain asked, reaching for them.

Hero flinched back. The ground trembled for a quarter of a second.

They did not know why.

Villain was frozen in their seat.

“I’m sorry I’m so…, I don’t know what happened,” Hero rushed to excuse themselves “I guess I’m still startled from earlier.”

And after a moment, Villain smiled.

Those known, warm smiles they used to comfort Hero on those first nights, when everything was blurry, and they were scared. Hero swallowed their guilt.

“I understand, it’s okay, I’m not mad,” they answered, trying to reach again, successfully this time, they held Hero’s hands together in one of them, allowing them to grab them tight, as tight as Hero needed.

Hero reciprocated the gesture, smiling down after a second of silence.

“I brought you water, coffee and some snacks, we still have a couple hours to go.”

They grabbed the bag offered, placing it down under the seat.

“Thank you Villain,” answered Hero, turning to face them, gripping their hand tighter and meeting their gaze “Thank you, really, for all you’ve done for me this time.”

Villain’s smile changed for a moment to something less warm.

Hero ignored it.

“It’s truly my pleasure, Hero.” They answered, “I will always take care of you.”

Masterlist

(Which I think it's broken, the links to each sections are not working properly for me, but I'll check)

Yes you can!

(I'm really trying to work on the other requests :c)

#hero x villain #villain x hero #hero/villain #villain/hero #hero and villain #villain and hero #heroes and villains #villains and hero #hero #amnesiac hero #villain #manipulative villain #creative writing #writebrl #heroes and villains community

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blurscolours · 1 year

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The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea | Part Six

Masterlist

Summary: An attack on Arthur’s imprisoned brother Orm leaves him with no choice but to rely upon you, a friend made due to unfortunate circumstances nearly a decade ago, to provide safe haven while he restores peace to Atlantis. Suddenly tasked with sheltering a sullen former king results in a very different summer vacation than you had originally envisioned, but changes both of your lives forever.

Warnings: Bear Attack, Orm Injury, Blood, First Aid, Discussion of Atlantean Healing

Word Count: 2083

By the following weekend, the pile of logs to be split had dwindled significantly. Activity on the lake was picking up again, so you suggested you go on a walk into the woods, to both look for felled trees and get away from the racket.

Your planned route was not arduous, but it was hot in the thick of the trees and sunbaked granite, so you put your bathing suit on underneath your shorts and tank top to be ready to swim as soon as you returned to the lakeshore. You also applied sunscreen to your exposed skin, as he read the back of the bottle curiously.

“We can’t all be as perfect as you…” You teased lightly. “Sunburns are terribly uncomfortable.”

Making sure you each had a bottle of water, and a bucket to collect any blueberries there might be, you headed off with him down the path to the railway tracks. You stopped at the edge and let him take in the space without a freight train barreling through the landscape, before leading him across and deeper into the trees. You were by no means an elegant hiker, but you made your way up the slope of the path, avoiding the mud churned up by ATVs. The two of you noted some trees that had fallen as a result of wind or at the end of the life. He stated he would come back later to collect them.

You emerged from the thick of the trees onto a landscape of granite rocks and twisted jack pine trees. It was a rather foreign landscape compared to the woods or the lakeshore.

“Here is where we might find blueberries.” You said excitedly and headed over to inspect one of the patches of green. You crouched down and carefully ran your fingers through the leaves before picking a few triumphantly. “Aha!”

You enthusiastically began to pick a few more before putting them in your hand and rinsing them with a splash of water from your water bottle. You popped a few in your mouth and smiled as they were still warm from the sun and reminded you of a fresh blueberry pie.

“You enjoy the taste then?” He asked, much closer than you remembered.

You opened your eyes to see him crouching down right in front of you. You held out your hand and he plucked a few from your palm, the tips of his fingers sliding along your skin. You were powerless to stop the shiver that thrilled through you. You watched as he slid the blueberries past his generous lips before popping them with his teeth and nodding.

“They are sweet but not overwhelmingly so…and warm.” He commented.

His words brought you back to the moment and you nodded quickly.

“Exactly. It reminds me of a dessert my mom makes every summer. Blueberry pie.”

He smiled a little at the mention of your mother…And you realized you had listened to his entire life story without sharing any part of your own.

“I would very much like to try it…” He replied.

“Well then we need to pick a lot more of these.” You laughed and settled in to pick everything within your reach, teaching him to pick only the darkest of the berries, leaving the white or green ones to ripen a while longer. As you shifted around the patch, the bucket getting fuller between the two of you, you told him stories of berry picking with your family…of eating more blueberries than you put in the bucket…

As the time passed, however, you began to feel…unnerved. You found yourself looking across the clearing to the edge of the trees until the shadows moved. You inhaled sharply, and his focus was immediately on you.

“Bear.” You said quickly and quietly, and his eyes shot across the clearing to see the black bear emerge fully, sniffing the wind. The animal was startingly large…not like the females that came close to the cottage sometimes. No, this was a huge male that roamed a large territory, and you were now in it.

“Stand up slowly.” You spoke low and even, moving carefully. He followed your direction, shifting subtly to place his entire form between you and the bear. “Wave your arms slowly and talk to me, we have to show we are not prey.”

You both began to wave your arms.

“Are humans not prey for bears, then?”

“No. We are not. This type of bear is a scavenger…they like berries and fish and dead animals.” You peered around his torso and frowned as the bear started huffing defensively, pawing at the ground.

“It might charge.” You said with dread in your voice. You were doing everything the nature books said and yet the bear still seemed threatened. Orm was in and of himself a very threatening being. That may have been the issue.

“It is charging.” He confirmed with surprising calm.

You heard it roar and start across the clearing.

“Hit it in the face!!!” You managed to squeak out and pressed yourself fully against his back, admittedly terrified.

You felt Orm brace for the impact, holding his arms out to defend you as the snarling bear drew closer. It let out a bellow as it plowed into him, sliding the two of you backwards along the bare rock, but Orm kept his feet, and you were able to do the same by wrapping your arms around his waist. The bear reared up and snarled again as it swiped at Orm’s left arm with its wicked claws before you felt Orm shift and slam his right fist into its muzzle.

The bear let out a rather pathetic noise, one of pain mixed with surprise, as it tumbled back. It scrambled to its feet and scampered off into the woods. At least the books were right about that – black bears could indeed be scared off by fighting back. You unwrapped your arms from Orm’s torso and stood, immediately seeing the angry gashes on his forearm. He turned to face you once the bear was out of sight and seemed much more focused on your wellbeing. You grabbed your water bottle and quickly dumped it over his wound.

“Bear claws are filthy.” You babbled, adrenaline making your hands shake a little. You needed to stop the bleeding. You paused, trying to formulate a plan, before pulling your shirt up and off, folding it into a long strip. As Orm looked on curiously, you pressed the center of the fabric strip to this wound, wrapping it under his arm before pulling the ends back to the front and tying them tightly over the wound to put pressure on it. You picked up his hand and pressed your finger into his skin, pleased to see the blood flow replenish the colour quickly.

“We have to get you back to the cottage…” You turned to pull him back to the path, away from the bear, but he pulled you back to him, the fingers of his good hand sliding under your chin, raising your eyes to his.

“Are you alright?” He asked calmly, seemingly unfazed by what had transpired.

You blinked and nodded dumbly, forcing yourself to take a few calming breaths.

“Yes, sorry, thank you.” You murmured sheepishly.

“Then we can go.” He nodded and let go of your chin, leaning down to pick up the bucket of hard-won blueberries, before letting you lead him back down the path in your bathing suit and shorts.

Neither of you seemed inclined to break contact, and so you held his hand the entire way, taking him straight into the bathroom. You motioned for him to sit on the stool and took out the first aid kit. Your hands were thankfully no longer shaking. You unwrapped your ruined shirt and dropped it directly into the garbage bin. You grabbed some antiseptic and looked to him apologetically.

“This might sting a little…” You knelt on the ground to be face-to-face with the wound on his forearm as you very carefully cleaned it out. You could see right before your own eyes he was already healing; the bleeding had stopped. The bear’s claws had not been able to cut very deep into his Atlantean flesh, but the wound still needed care. You added anti-bacterial cream before closing each gash with sets of steri-strips, offsetting and trimming them with careful precision. You placed gauze over the wounds and wrapped it with bandages.

“Too tight?” You asked once you’d tied it.

“Not at all.” He murmured and you nodded before cleaning up.

“Between you and me, we’re going to use a whole first aid kit before this month is out.” You muttered ruefully as you changed the Band-Aid on your thumb. You looked back to him, still sitting on the stool. “Are you in pain?”

“I will be fine. Thank you,” he replied, making eye contact again. “for your prompt care and the sacrifice of your garment…”

You shook your head quickly.

“I would have died…the thanks are all mine…” You blinked as you remembered he’d just punched a huge land animal. You quickly picked up his right hand and examined his knuckles, putting gentle pressure on the bones of his hand. “Is your hand ok?”

He nodded as his fingers closed around yours, gently turning you hand and lifting your knuckles to his lips. “I am fine.” He confirmed again before pressing a kiss to your skin.

The air shuddered from your lungs, stunned that hands so strong could feel so soft…that a mouth that could speak so harshly had such tender lips.

“I…” You dropped your eyes and they looked around for something to focus on, landing on the bucket of blueberries. “I will get these cleaned up then.” You slipped your hand from his, grabbing the blueberries and fleeing to the kitchen.

The intensity of your body’s response to him was overwhelming, particularly when it mixed with the residual adrenaline. You rinsed the blueberries carefully and lay them out to dry on paper towel, before going down to the lake for a swim. You needed to cool off and calm down or you would absolutely embarrass yourself further.

You jumped in and dunked yourself a number of times before simply floating, the frenzied feeling leeching away into the water. As you climbed out of the lake, he offered you a towel…making you realized you’d forgotten to bring one with you.

“Thank you.” You smiled sheepishly and wrapped yourself up in it. “So.” You looked to him. “Blueberry pie?”

He nodded softly and you headed up to the cottage together. You changed into real clothes and worked with him to make the filling and crust before assembling the pie. Once it was in the oven, you pulled down a wine glass. “I am going to have a glass of mead, an alcoholic beverage made with honey. Would you like to try some?”

“Yes, please.” He answered and you grabbed another glass. You poured a tasting size portion for him and a proper glass for yourself, before bringing the bottle with you as you sat in the living room to relax while the pie baked. He sniffed and swirled the mead before tasting it and you were once again struck by the cultural similarities – though how beverages were serviced and ingested in the ocean was something you would ask him about later. He gave you a nod of approval and you added to his glass.

The warmth of the alcohol spread from the centre of your body out to the tips of your fingers and toes, relaxing you deeply. As you drank, you took the opportunity to tell him about your life – your family, your childhood. The timer beeped once the pie finished, and you pulled it out to cool. Together, you threw together some leftovers for dinner and continued drinking and talking over your meal and dessert.

Thankfully the pie turned out to be worth it effort he had put into collecting those blueberries with you, and you finished the night by cleaning the kitchen. The very close encounter with that bear had truly driven home the importance of keeping the cottage clean. By bedtime, the bottle was empty. You were both thoroughly relaxed, and he was also well-versed in your life in turn. Crawling into bed, it was not a struggle to fall asleep. You melted into the sheets boneless after the effort of the day and slept soundly through the night.

Read Part Seven

Masterlist

#orm x reader #orm marius x reader #orm imagine #orm fic #orm marius imagine #orm marius fic #ocean master x reader

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littlelesbinonny · 9 months

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The Devil's Den

Chapter 21: In Which Strings Are Tightly Twisted

You can read this also on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/117962293

The weekend was almost over which meant the long visits between the two of you was coming to an end, which Alcina disliked greatly. But the last two nights had been wonderful, as always.

For the first time in a long time her mind was noticeably mellow.

She was stretched out on her cream colored chez lounge enjoying the quiet, puffing slowly on her cabriole as she watched the ornate ceiling above do absolutely nothing.

Alcina was becoming more and more grateful for you as time continued on. The circumstances of reality slipped through her fingers when she was with you; she was feeling awake, strong and tall in the present, alive and free. You were freeing her mind, her heart, her long dormant passions and drawing her back into what she thought she could almost remember life feeling like.

She smiled.

A soft knock at her bedroom door rattled her thoughts loose and she sat up.

"Yes?"

The door was opened slowly and Daniela's innocent grin greeted her.

"Mamă, mătușa Donna este aici." (Mother, Auntie Donna is here.)

Odd. It was easily 10 or 11 in the morning by now. What a perplexing hour for her to visit.

Alcina nodded, "arată-i dragostea de studiu, spune-i că voi fi acolo pentru moment." (show her to the study love, tell her I'll be there momentarily.)

She sighed heavily as she rose, donned her white robe, ruffled her hair and made her way through the manor to the other side where Donna was waiting patiently by one of the many bookcases.

"Donna, my apologies for the delay. What brings you at this hour?" Alcina asked with a soft smile, closing the big red oak door behind her.

Donna was dressed in a usual tight fitting, plain black dress. Hair done up in a loose but beautiful bun, her dark brown locks curled and pinned on her head with precision. She was nothing if not meticulous.

"I came to tell you I found the culprits responsible for disturbing the priests, as you had asked me to look into."

"Ah, and who was it?"

The rolling of her eyes was an answer all its own and they began to chuckle.

"Angie, and a few of the younger lycans. Apparently they've been terrorizing several people recently. I, of course, have spoken with her."

Alcina folded her arms and shook her head with a smile, "it is still wondrous to me the two of you are related at all."

"The irony is not lost on you or I," Donna laughed.

The lightness died out. Alcina knew from the moment she walked in that there was something else; this news required only a phone call, there was something much more pressing for her to come all the way to the manor. Donna couldn't hide a thing from her, that was her only downfall.

"You didn't come here to tell me just that, did you," she said, watching Donna's eyes harden at the rhetorical question.

Her sigh was telling enough.

"I'm afraid not," Donna began to twiddle her thumbs slowly as she walked towards Alcina, only looking down once before she was much closer, "the news from Karl reached me only this morning. There has been some odd activity in some areas outside of New York. Mitch, along with a few of his men who still travel quite frequently, have reported what they believe to be rogue vampires."

Alcina's eyes narrowed, "rogue vampires? In what sense?"

Another sigh, this time, sharp.

"That's the troubling part. They don't know, they had no other way to describe them. Mitch explained when he and his party stumbled upon them they fled immediately. They found 4 dead hikers where they were gathered. When his men attempted to follow them they were at a complete loss; they left no scent trail to find. They all had... white eyes."

Her mind began to turn at the news. White eyes? And no scent? Everyone has a scent.

"Did he say how many? Where was this?"

"Half a dozen, possibly more. Connecticut, outside of New Haven."

"That's..."

Mother Miranda's territory.

The two looked at each other without a word, unreadable expressions exchanged.

If Mother Miranda brought in or made new fledglings, Alcina was the first to hear about it. Always. And she'd heard nothing thus far from her. While new vampires not of her making were not uncommon, like any other clan, they were to report all new bloods to Mother Miranda and now Alcina herself, that's how it had been done for centuries.

"I have told Karl to tell his men to not interact, pursue, or intervene. I came also to ask if I may take a team and investigate myself."

"No," Alcina replied abruptly, "I don't want you out there, and there are very few vampires I trust down here as it is. If I send anyone, it will be Mateo and Gerard and I will join them... but as it is..." she stalled as she wondered how drastic of action this truly warranted; were these really rogue vampires? Had news just been delayed from an outer clan?

"I don't want anyone doing anything yet, not until I know more. I will make some calls to the clan leaders. Please relay to Heisenberg and his men to keep their eyes open and report anything else they might come across, but I agree; I don't want anyone searching these vampires out intentionally. Unless a problem is directly presenting itself, I'd rather not cause a fuss and put out a fire that didn't need starting. However, their actions will be addressed the minute I find out who they belong to."

Alcina was normally the first to jump at the chance to fight, protect and defend the city; she was one of the greatest warriors the vampires had ever seen and never batted an eye at a battle. While Donna knew the underlying reason for her hesitancy, she worried deep down that it may be misplacing her attention and focus. If a problem was brewing, which in her core she felt may very well be the case, the root of the weed might be too deep by the time it spread to their door.

Donna nodded gracefully, accepting the Matriarchs decision, "as you wish."

Oh, Alcina knew that tone anywhere.

Her eyes darted back and up to Donna's, "I mean it, I don't want you putting yourself in danger. Please, obey this without making it difficult."

Choosing the right words and tone for this required the biting of her tongue for a moment.

"Alcina, I need you to hear me without losing your temper," Donna began gently as she stepped in closer, placing her hands lovingly on the side of Alcina's arms, "I will adhere to your command. As my leader and my friend, I will respect your decision. But I humbly request you think on this carefully... I know you are in a place where making decisions to run off to a possible altercation is undesirable, but we depend on your guidance and wisdom. Please..." her voice sank very low, "love and care for your human, but don't forget you are our Matriarch."

That burned.

Instead of reacting with rage as she might normally, Alcina considered Donna and her words deeply.

It was all true.

"I have not forgotten," she began softly yet with a sternness, "you must understand the truth to your statement is more bitter and apparent everyday that passes, it does not go blind in my eyes. You should also know that my initiative to fight for all of our protection is more prevalent than ever before," Alcina lifted her chin slightly, "if there is any altercations to be had, I will be at the forefront as I always have been and there will be no prisoners taken."

Donna smiled. Alcina had always been fueled and driven by a blazing fire, and now the flame that was once brilliantly orange and gold, was now blue and white; it burned hotter, longer and fiercer. Perhaps this human lover of hers was more good than bad after all.

She pulled Alcina into an embrace and held her tight, "I could never question the fight within you, my friend. You were born a fighter and will die kicking and screaming until your last breath if it is to your liking, that I have no doubt."

The two of them chuckled, parting slowly and regarding the other with warm grins.

"Please inform me of anymore news, but keep this as quiet as possible. And while I don't necessarily wish to get Angie involved, she is awfully cunning, sneaky, and observant. Her services may be required down the road."

"I will formulate some plans. In the meantime... give my regards to your human, she seems to have tamed a beast I thought to be forever feral."

Had Donna not moved as quickly as she had, Alcina would have landed the swatting to her arm. She left giggling through the door and down the hallway leaving Alcina to send the glare after her, the smirk on her lips nullifying any terror behind it.

Shaking her head with a tumbling laugh, Alcina sat at her desk and mulled over the news once more.

Was she being under-cautious? Did this need military attention? Should she lead a team with Mitch and travel to said location and see for herself immediately?

She shuddered as Mother Miranda came wafting through her thoughts like a suffocating fog. Miranda's main stronghold was in Connecticut, near where these supposed rogue vampires had been seen. White eyes, no scent, repeated in her mind. They must have been mistaken. They must have.

Unless...

Mother Miranda had spoken about dreams and plans of a pristine, unmatched vampire army at great lengths to her when she was first turned. But that was when the internal wars between vampire clans and the external wars with lycans were still alive and thriving; the need and drive for such a thing had been abandoned many years ago, hadn't it? Once the treaties had been solidified Miranda never mentioned it again. Alcina couldn't imagine her work would have continued.

Alcina shook her head. It couldn't be.

Leaning back in her chair she closed her eyes and huffed.

This isn't news she wanted to receive tonight.

Yes.

Yes, you were once again listening to Alcina's cassettes on repeat all day today.

It was Sunday and you'd made a commitment to yourself to sleep at least a few hours after she left you in the early morning. It wasn't as difficult as you were expecting and you had to admit you did feel a little better getting some shut-eye. But, the moment you woke you grabbed your old as hell portable cassette player you had since you were a kid and hit play.

What better way to enjoy a lazy Sunday than listening to the lilting melodies of a voice that caressed your mind and soul like a soft velvet glove. You wished there was a way to get these digitalized so you could listen on your phone while you were at work.

There wasn't much for you to do today but you tidied your apartment. Some odd tapping sounds kept catching your attention in the later afternoon. Where it was coming from was annoying you beyond belief. You searched and looked and investigated but was never really able to put your finger on what the cause was. You gave up after it all seemed to stop and grabbed a book, plopped on your bean bag chair and read away the rest of the sunny day.

You were in the kitchen when Alcina appeared. She stood leaning against the door jam with her palm outstretched and a puzzled, inquisitive look on her face.

"Is there a reason a pen, a silver hair clip, $1.82 cents worth of coin, a shiny piece of blue glass and a silver ring much too big for your delicate little fingers were on the ground outside your balcony door?"

Placing the last cup you'd washed on the drying rack your grin tilted into the same perplexed visage.

"Uhm, I have no idea," you said as you walked over to her, gazing at the items in her palm.

You held out your own hand and Alcina carefully rolled them into your grasp.

Weird.

Really weird.

Looking back up at her with a shrug, you smiled, "I honestly have no clue where they came from, none of these things are mine."

"Hmm, well perhaps you've got little fairies or gnomes leaving you gifts?"

"Yeah I certainly hope not, I don't know how to make peace treaties with those folks."

Alcina laughed and pulled you into her, kissing you deeply as she held you there for her to admire, "if I catch you with another mythical creature I will be terribly heartbroken, draga mea."

"Psh, yeah right. You're the only one for me babe," you sighed nuzzling into her with a warm smile.

She grinned brightly and pulled you deeper into her embrace.

"Come, our hours together tonight are short, I don't want to waste a moment.

Latching the antique rotary phone down for the ninth time tonight, Alcina propped her forehead against her balled fists as she sat fully discouraged at her desk.

The study was unsettlingly quiet.

The girls were out who knows where doing who knew what, the other vampires and lycans of the underground were going about their own nightly business, you were hopefully fast asleep, and she was no closer to having any answers about these "rogue vampires" Donna had told her about this morning.

She was, of course, as vague as possible when she spoke with each clan leader over the phone; simply calling in to check if any new fledglings needed to be added to the books. Nothing out of the ordinary for the Matriarch to call about.

Nine resounding no's.

It was still possible these vampires had moved in from another state, or even another country, and had not reached or gone through the appropriate check points done for all vampires when entering new territory. But, if that was the case, then perhaps action did need taking before their bullshit got out of hand.

Regardless of who they belonged to or where they were from, she was in command and responsible for what fuckery took place in this area when it came to vampires and lycans alike. And yet, no one had heard one damn thing about their appearances, killings, or activity across the board from what she could tell.

No human city officials had come to make her aware of their presence, no vampire leaders, no lycans, no one outside of Donna had told her about anything.

For fuck sake.

Alcina sat back with a huff and she tongued her teeth and mulled this over again and again.

Yes, something had to be done.

She didn't want to risk Mother Miranda finding out about these rogue idiots anymore than she wanted her finding out she knew about that and didn't do anything about it from the beginning.

Was it time to mobilize?

This would mean several nights away from the city. Meaning she wouldn't see you for as long as it took to track down and understand the whole of the situation. Which, in hindsight wouldn't be too unbearable if you were aware of her absence from the start, but that also meant leaving her post here; risking the chance these rogue vampires have already moved into the city, leaving it all the more vulnerable and weaker without her being here. Her military forces were capable, yes surely, but the fact of the matter is the city is her responsibility and she should be the one at the front lines regardless of what is happening anywhere. But where was the current front line?

"Christ al-fucking-mighty!" she exclaimed as her thoughts engaged a 'what if' match inside her echoing skull.

Frustration slapped her back with a sting and she lit a cigarette, puffing the smoke through her nose with virile determination to get something under control. Whether that be her anxiety, the actual situation at hand, or a fucking plan to tackle this, so be it.

She had to get something figured out and quickly.

"You and I really outta stop meeting like this."

Donna didn't share his humor as she slipped quietly in through his shop door.

It had been 3 days since her meeting with Alcina and nothing more had been said between the two of them about it. And it didn't appear anything was being done, either.

She had also revisited with Karl the same day she spoke with Alcina, explaining her stance, to which they both left in an agreed displeased mood. There was no pushing or pressuring the Matriarch if she wouldn't have it. While Donna hadn't pushed too hard, she was beginning to wonder if the stubborn woman actually needed a violent shove instead. Her instincts were on high alert and she hadn't been able to turn them off.

"Karl, I know you often lack the capacity for seriousness but is now the time?"

He just looked at her.

"Look, a twisted and inappropriately timed sense of humor has always been part of my charm. Angie is your sister for god sake, I don't wanna hear it."

"Yes, often two peas in a pod. You're only redeeming quality is the lack of complete and continual destructive chaos," she tossed back with her hands on her hips.

After a brief pause she rubbed her forehead.

With a sigh she retreated from her bark and walked closer to his work table, "sorry, I'm trying to not be as bothered about all of this as I am."

"I know," he replied much softer, "I'm still pissed at Alcina's reaction and silence about all of this. Maybe that's what's putting me over the edge. She's always ready for a fight, that's what we love about her; never having to question if our leader is prepared and on our side."

Donna huffed, "I'm feeling the same. I know if it came to it she'd be here, rallied and hungry for a fight... I'm just... wishing she was more present with us right now. It isn't as though we can't act without her knowledge or approval, but the mess that comes afterwards is another headache I don't wish to pursue. If Mother Miranda hears about us enacting military measures without Alcina... that bitch will be down here quicker than we can blink."

"She's visited enough for one year, she can fuck off for another 20 or so and I'd be happy. Actually never seeing her smug crumpled face would make me happiest but... I digress."

They sat in silence for a while as they stared down at the mangled wood of Karl's workbench.

Finally he huffed.

"Look, I might as well tell you because you'll find out eventually; I've got men on it. Not directly, but I couldn't let this sit. I've got 3 patrols: one near New Haven, Port Chester, and outside of Yonkers. If this is what you think it is, I'm not sitting idly by while super-sized bitch is off with her human play -"

"Karl!" she hissed.

"Eeeey, eey, relax - you know I don't mean it... You know I care about that giant banshee as much as you do... I'm just having a really hard time deciding how long to wait before we get or find real answers. I know she's preoccupied, but now is really not the time for this shit."

He was right as much as Donna didn't want to admit it. She felt the unnerving pressure of something coming, something awry, but if Alcina wasn't going to listen or heed the warnings, someone needed to be on top of it.

She finally gazed over to Karl, "thank you. I know you'll be careful and I won't hover. You will keep me updated?"

"Of course, D. You're the only one outside of Mitch and those on patrol that know, and even they don't know all the details. If we do get busted it'll look better that it's just us and none of you being involved."

Before Donna could respond a ruckus could be heard down the hall from Karl's shop. They both stood quickly as the sounds came closer and through the door burst a lycan soldier.

He was ragged and bleeding, holding to his left shoulder that was hanging limp and disjointed. Panting and sweating he stumbled to the neighboring bench and slumped.

Karl was immediately to his side to hold him up, Donna was right beside him to look over his wounds.

"Blake! What the fuck happened, kid?!" Karl nearly barked.

His response was a little garbled, but Blake shook off the immense pain in his shoulder with a growl through gritted teeth.

"Ambush."

#alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu/female reader #alcina dimitrescu/original female character #alcina dimitrescu/reader #lesbian #f/f #fanfic #fic #wlw #donna beneviento #karl heisenberg #daniela dimitrescu

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