Ruby

22 / Artist / HP/FB / Marvel / Star Wars / Shadow and Bone

[flostvs1508]

Percival Graves.

Art by @flstvs on Instagram

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A post shared by Flo (@itsrubyart) on Sep 18, 2020 at 12:38pm PDT

[junkfoodcinemas]

The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002) dir. Peter Jackson

[littlefreya]

22 years and I still haven't recovered

[anxietyproblem]

[wordsmith-storyweaver]

[moonlightgrisha]

Wax and Wane

Ch. 16 It's been weeks since the disaster on the skiff, and you are now leading the Grisha revolution. You have been planning to go back to the Fold and look for the Darkling. It never occurred to you that he might come looking for you instead. [Masterlist]

Previous -

Be bold, be bold, but not too bold; that’s how the saying goes.

You wished you would have learnt that lesson by now, but you’ve been alone for a while, a moon with no darkness to soften its brightness, and you’ve grown too reckless.

You are in big trouble, now.

Hands bound like this, you cannot summon the smallest sparkle, let alone enchanting your captors. You stare at them with fire in your eyes, wondering if they think they’ll get away with this.

You also wonder if you’ll get away, with this.

“Now, now, witch”, the lieutenant says, kneeling in front of you. “Don’t you fret. This will be over soon. If you cooperate, of course”.

“What for?”, you spit. “You are going to kill me anyway, I’d rather make it as difficult as I can”.

“We are giving you a fair trial, first”, the man says. He’s from the First Army, a loyal collaborator of Vasily, and he just can’t believe he’s got the Moon Summoner, the vixen herself, the one who enchanted the Darkling to his death and who started the Grisha revolution across the whole country.

“Let me guess, you shall be judging me?”

“We just want to give you a chance to tell your side of the story, before handing you over to the King for your execution”.

You sigh. The Queen will be delighted. She chased you down like a scourge, sending spies and scouts all over Ravka, infiltrators, Grisha traitors. They all returned to her mad as a hatter.

The heath of a burning light blinds you for a moment. A soldier has put a lantern right in front of your eyes, just to make it funnier for them.

You are bound to a pole in the tent, in this forgotten First Army outpost you had been dragged you, after being ambushed along with your escort. You are quite mad to yourself, actually, for falling into the trap. Nobody should have known about your whereabouts.

You were on a secret mission, just about to enter the Fold for a second time. To go looking for him.

What makes you even angrier is that this damned First Army soldier prevented you to go ahead with your plan.

“Pray, tell us. Your truth. Your story”.

They are mocking you, but it’s fine. Zoya will come for you soon. You just need to buy yourself enough time.

“You won’t believe me”.

“Please. People won’t say we didn’t give you the chance to defend yourself. Tell us what happened on the day you killed the Darkling and attempted on the life of your Prince”.

“First of all, I didn’t do any of this. The Heartrenders in our party revolted and prevented me from summoning. That is how the skiff was attacked in the first place”.

“Our Prince reported that you left the whole crew in the darkness, on purpose”.

“Vasily lies”.

You feel the kick in your ribs, but you don’t even wince. You are already savoring the moment you’ll swallow them all in moonlight, leaving nothing in their brains but fantasy and desire. Not yet, though. You feel you might free one of your hands from the shackles, if you keep trying, but you need to distract them a little longer.

“I’m sorry, did I say something that offended you?”

“Your simple existence, moon vixen, is an offense to the Royal family”.

“I know that well enough”.

“You don’t deny your aim to the throne, then?” You scoff. “I couldn’t care less for the throne”.

“Shall I remind you that you are leading a revolution? Right after your coup in the Fold, you gathered all Grisha willing to follow in your foul attempt, and proclaimed independence. You have established a headquarter, built an army, and now you are making demands, storming our camps. What, next?”

“Freedom. I am protecting the Grisha. The King would have gotten rid of us all, after the Darkling was gone”.

“You mean, after you killed him”.

They are trying to exasperate you, and you see that. Still, it hurts you. Everybody has bought that version of the story. Some Grisha didn’t even side with you, thinking you had murdered their General by leaving him at the mercy of the volcras.

That story pains you even more than the loss of him.

“Why were you headed to the Fold, anyway? Were you planning on retrieving his bones and wear him as an amplifier?”

“Is this mocking trial over or what?”, you screech, trying to conceal the unbearable suffering in your heart.

It definitely isn’t. The lieutenant is going to tell you, but suddenly a noise comes from outside the tent.

He look startled, for a moment.

“Be right back”, he says to his soldiers. “Don’t let down your guard. You know what they say about her”.

Oh, you do know what they say about you. You recall all the voices, all the stories you heard in these past few weeks. The witch, the moon vixen, the Grisha enchantress. She has moonbeams in her eyes and can grind your heart with just one look. She has moonshine in her voice and can melt you with just one word.

The soldiers look not as cocky as they were a few moments ago, now that they are alone with you. You smile, knowing they won’t look at your wrist, and at how you are twisting it to get free of the shackle.

Suddenly, it all goes dark.

You heart leaps forward, its beating is all you can hear, like thunders preceding a storm. Something is off, you can feel it in your gut. It's like the balance has shifted.

The soldiers are definitely panicking now, flickering around, someone even grabs you by the collar of your dress and says: “What kind of trick is this, witch?”

But you don’t have a chance to answer him. He is swept up into the air, swallowed by darkness, or by someone in the darkness. Or something.

Finally, you free your wrist. Moonlight emerges from your palms in the shape of a glittering sphere, showing what words can’t really describe. There is a creature of darkness, smoldering in the tent, and nothing left of the soldiers who were supposed to guard you.

You are acting on instinct, now. Your moon opens up, it turns into a shield between you and the creature, to protect you. You don’t want to kill it, not yet. You want to understand.

The thing of darkness roams behind your gleaming shield, but it doesn’t seem to like your light. It recoils, shifting into the air, and vanishes like smoke blown away by the wind.

You rush outside. The outpost is burning. Soldiers are running, screaming orders, and you look around, trying to get the grip of the situation. You bend your head, cover your hair with the hood of your cloak, still draped on your shoulders, and start making your way across the bloodshed. Nobody really pays attention at you, maybe because they are all falling, one by one.

There were other Grisha taken captive and you head towards their cages, hoping to be faster than those creatures and to free them in time.

But you have a feeling you can’t ignore. It is driving you mad. It’s like a dagger, stabbing you within every step you take. These creatures storming the outpost are sick and savage and they smell just like the void and death you remember from your journey through the Unsea.

Who carried them here?

You finally reach the cages, bent and broken by the race, but they are already open. You raise your eyes just in time to see your former companions walking into the woods, leaving you.

It doesn’t make sense. Why would they? You are their leader. They swore to follow you. You are also their princess, as some of them like to point out. You might have lied to the lieutenant: you do sometimes think of the throne. The first Grisha queen, wouldn’t that be nice?

But you are nothing more than a lonely, scared, miserable girl now, with eyes open wide and full with tears, as you see a familiar shape peeking out of the woods, lit by the flames devouring the barracks.

He’s just as you dreamt of him: scarred, hurt, and hateful. You thought they were just dreams, haunting you after his demise, but maybe they were something more. There he stands, now.

His eyes are intriguing as ever, despite the dust and wounds on his skin. He stares at you, and it reminds you of the first time you met him, and the way he looked at you, slightly annoyed, completely puzzled.

The creatures of darkness swirl behind him like faithful old dogs and you understand why they seemed so familiar. You have been chased by his shadows more than once in the past. You have also dwelled into them, in his arms. But these shadows, you are afraid of them. They are born of hate, and rage, and they will consume everything they touch, maybe him as well.

The heath of the flames from the burning outpost is licking at your feet, and you might fall or even faint any minute now. If only you could speak, but your tongue is tied, your heart is breaking. You don’t believe in ghosts, and he certainly doesn’t look like one. He seems very much alive.

But why doesn’t he reach for you, then?

He looks down, at last, and turns to make his way into the woods. That’s when you find your voice, and yell: “Wait!”

He seems to hesitate, and glances at you from over his shoulder. Even if he doesn’t speak, you suddenly realize everything. It’s all in there, in that spiteful, unforgiving look. It’s all in the way he leaves you, his absence like a declaration of war.

You don’t know how he survived the Fold, but you can guess it, now. What you know for sure is that he believes that cursed story as well: the moon vixen betraying him, to take his place and rule the land.

Little he knows of your sleepless nights, harrowing days, plans of entering the Fold to come looking for him. He doesn’t know of your feeling of guilt, grief and useless desire, when you felt like a widow and couldn’t tell anybody. Nothing he knows of how you conjured up your own strenght, and fought your way out of the mess. 

In his eyes, you are his enemy, now.

And you must fight him, just as you once promised, with everything you can.

Taglist

@mysweetlittledesire@budugu@flostvs1508@aoi-targaryen@sakshi2005 @rainy-day-lady @sakuracheol @sentimental---circus @thelastemzy @wonderland2425

[moonlightgrisha]

All those stories about a Moon Summoner? True.

Masterlist

Backstory 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Part one

1. First encounter

2. A dance of shadows

3. And then, she woke up

4. Ride on

5. How to lose a secret

6. Show me

7. Make a choice

8. New Moon

9. Everybody knows

10. Little Palace at night

11. The view from the hill

12. Summer Festival

13. The consequence of imagination is fear

14. The gift

15. After me, comes the flood

Part two

16. ?

Afficher davantage

[moonlightgrisha]

After me, comes the flood

Ch. 15 You enter the Fold to accomplish your plan. Whatever happens, you must go on standing. [Masterlist] Warnings: angst and very bad cliffhanger ** Author notes at the end ** Previous -

In the aftermath of your mission in the Fold, you will play the scene in your head, over and over, struggling to remember little details that will be most important to you. When you touched him last, for example, when he looked at you in the eye for the last time. For this is the problem with last times. You often ignore they are the last.

For now, you don’t even think about it. It’s not time, yet. You have just climbed on the skiff that will take you right into the mouth of darkness. You have never seen the Fold so close. It is like staring at a storm or a hurricane, a masterpiece of nature, powerful and deadly, from which you can’t look away.

Instead, you look at the man besides you, remembering he’s the one who made it.

There are other people on board, guests you made sure to invite to witness your plan. There are ambassadors from Shu Han and Kerch and Novyi Zem. Along with other Grisha there is Ivan, the Heartrender and the Darkling’s right hand man, and Zoya too, the Squaller, at the sail. You know the first isn’t particularly fond of you, but you like Zoya, you trained with her and you’ve always admired her. You are not friends, but you could be, and you are glad she’s here.

Your second cousin Vasily is here too, as the new First Army General, just as the Darkling predicted. You hardly stand him, but he couldn’t miss it.

“No representative from Fjerda, cousin?” He asks, approaching you with the falsest smile you’d ever seen.

“I praise your keen powers of observation, cousin”.

“May I dare to ask why?”

“You will know in due time. Very soon”.

He doesn’t look happy with your answers, but you are not going to give your plan away before its time, not even to your future king. You excuse yourself and proceed to check out the skiff, making sure everything is in the right place. A breeze is coming from the Unsea, carrying a sour smell and a chill in your bones.

You had never been scared of darkness, but being so close to the Fold is terrifying.

So you do the only thing that makes sense now, and join the Darling on the front of the skiff. His expression is unreadable, as he stares into his creation, but he smiles when he sees you.

“Everything allright?” He asks.

“All set and ready to take off”.

He stares for a second, then he raises his eyes, like he’s checking if someone is listening to you, and whispers. “I was asking about you”.

You are struck by his concern. “I admit, your grand creation is a little… intimidating”.

“When this is over, it will be a little more than intimidating for our enemies”.

“I hope so”. You lean on the railing in front of you, and you are about to say something meaningful, just to steal some time for the two of you before you enter the darkness, but he leans closer and talks with sudden urgency.

“I must make sure you understand”, he says. “That after this, come the flood. There will be no turning back. They will come for us, and we must go on standing”.

You are surprised to find a glint of fear in his eyes. “I know”, you say, filled with concern, “Let them come for us. Everybody will know what Grisha are worth. What we are worth. And then, one day, when the country is ready - because you know I will make you do this - we will get rid of the Fold. It will be our gift to Ravka”.

“You'll make me?”.

“There is no hurry. I have time to persuade you”.

He shakes his head. “What would be of a Shadow Summoner, once the Fold is gone?”

“You will be greeted like a hero. The Starless Saint. I know you are used to it by now, but I assure you that "Black Heretic" sounds a little too melodramatic.”

You take pleasure in his smile, and in how the revelation of his past is slowly becoming part of your future.

He looks at you fondly.

Is it now, maybe, the last time you touch him? He brushes your hand with his fingers, almost accidentally, and it makes you shiver. You’ll wish you payed more attention. When this is over, there will be no way of knowing it, and you will be left to wonder.

He gives the signal and the skiff takes off. You choke on the sudden velocity, and brace yourself. The Fold is closer and closer, and you hope you are strong enough to enchant the darkness, just like some say you enchanted the Darkling himself.

And just like that, the Fold swallows the skiff.

Pitch black shadows, like pools of ink, surround you, leaving you speechless. You spent years looking at it from afar and imagining what it would feel like to plunge into it, and now that you are there it doesn’t look like anything you ever dreamed of. How to describe this feeling of cold and silence, of stillness and void? Time doesn’t flow in here. Everything is still just like the day the Black Heretic cursed it.

You look at him. You can’t help but search his features, looking for a reaction. You can see thoughts roaming in his eyes. There is pain, and shame, and rage in his clenched jaw. You grab his arm, above the fabric of his kefta, and say nothing.

The skiff moves swiftly on the path you established, taking you closer to the Fjerdan border, where the forest separates it from the first outposts. It is all so quiet that you start to wonder if you’ll have to actually use your powers at all.

Then, one of the Heartrenders whispers something in the General’s ear. But you have already heard it, a distant flapping of wings.

The Black General turns to you. He’s so calm, you wonder how he does it. “It is up to you, now, little moon”.

You nod. You knew it would happen, he told you he’s like a beacon to the volcra. That’s why you wanted insurance and pursued the amplifier. That’s why you are not going to leave his side.

You move your hands and start fashioning the brightest moon you’ve ever manufactured. It’s made of loneliness and dreaming, desire and desperation, and it floats up in the air driven by the inhuman force of your amplifier, melted in your bones.

The sound of wings is louder now, you can hear people whimpering behind you, and you are suddenly scared you might fail at this. You grab the Darkling’s wrist, suddenly, and when he looks at you you whisper, so low only he can hear: “Aleksander”.

You didn't mean to call him like that. It came out of your mouth so naturally you didn't even notice it. His eyes widen at the sound of his true name, and they glisten, and he says: “I am here”.

The amplifying energy coming from the touch of his skin rushes through your blood, drives your moon up in the eternal night of the Unseen, and now you see them.

They look like giant bats, with dragon mouths, and they fly around your moon, like moth to a flame. They go round and round, meek and tame.

You did it. Adrenaline makes your heart pump faster, while the Darkling looks at you proudly. He is speaking now, to the people on the skiff, although you are so drunk with emotion you lose the first words. He praises you and your power and your allegiance, and then he talks of the future.

“You have witnessed what the Moon Summoner can do. Now bear witness to what I can do, with her by my side”.

And the Fold moves. It moves by his order, hands stretched forward like he’s pushing it onward with his bare muscles. It moves and gets through the forest, reaches the Fjerdan outpost and engulfs it whole.

You hear the screams, but force yourself to focus on your gleaming moon above your head. In your mind, the cries and pain of the Grisha refugees at the border are fresh memories. This Is retribution.

You glance behind to see the ambassadors open mouthed. Vasiliy is white as a sheet.

“Take what you have seen back to your home countries”, the Darkling says. He’s as thrilled as you are. “There will be no more war with Ravka”.

And suddenly you can’t breathe.

Your moon vanishes. Volcras screech. Passengers cry with horror.

And you are not your own, it’s not your choice. You can’t move, you are stiff as a dead body, blood getting colder and colder in your veins, your head exploding with terror, and you hear Ivan’s voice in your ear: “You are done with your tricks, you vixen”.

This will be known as the Heartrenders’ riot. As short as devastating. But the Darkling will never know of it, because as he turns to face you in the dark, all he sees is your silhouette, standing still and staring at him, while a volcra reaches down, plunges his claws into his body and seizes him away.

It’s all in a second, but it plays in slow motion in your head. It will be the matter of your nightmares forever and more.

But right now, all you think about is to break free and reach him, grab him, save him. You don’t know how you manage to sever the Heartrender’ spell. You scream.

David, the Durast, was right. Moonlight is matter. You only realize you used the cut for the first time when you see the bodies on the floor.

You fall on the ground too, bent on your knees, but still you reach for your power and summon another moon, sparkling with rage, and try to boost it enough to push it up in the shadows and play the same trick you did before. You look around in despair, look for him, but he’s gone.

The skiff is moving now, going backwards. People are still screaming, someone is hurt, you hear Vasily cursing.

You feel helpless. Your moon stands high above you all now, and you dare to run to the railing, to look down and search for him. You send out beams of moonlight to reveal what the shadows hide, but there is no trace of him.

You might jump off the skiff, if Zoya wouldn’t come suddenly at your side, grabbing you by the arms.

“Don’t”, she just says.

“You saw what happened”, you reply shakily. You heart is cracking, you feel it.

“I saw it” she answers. “Don’t. Please. You are all we have left”.

As you listen to her words and choke on your tears, the skiff comes out into the light.

He's gone, the flood is coming, and you must go on standing.

You don't know it yet, but is how you start the war.

Part 1 ends here! Would you like to read part 2?

Yes

No

Voting ended onAug 14, 2023

I have always imagined this story as a "two seasons" series. Season one, or part one, ends here. But it is not the end of the story, as I'd very much like to keep going and write part two.

Thank you for all your lovely feedback and support. Writing in English is such an incredible adventure for me. Please let me know what you think of this story so far and what you'd like to see happening next.

Taglist

@mysweetlittledesire@budugu@flostvs1508@aoi-targaryen@sakshi2005 @rainy-day-lady @sakuracheol @sentimental---circus @thelastemzy @wonderland2425

[moonlightgrisha]

The Gift

Ch. 14 When an expedition in enemy territory goes terribly wrong, will you accept an unexpected gift from the man that broke your trust?. [Masterlist] Warnings: mentions of blood ** Author notes at the end ** Previous -

You stand in a tent in the middle of the Halmhend Forest. In front of you lies the biggest owl you’ve ever seen, with white feathers and amber eyes. It was to be your amplifier.

It is dead, and you did not kill it.

At the back of the tent, the Darkling stares at the lifeless body. It seems he doesn’t have a clue, for once. He looks mortified, if you were to believe what comes across his face, but you must be smarter than that, now.

How did it come to this?

You wanted insurance. You had a new plan, one you are not allowed to fail. That is why he started proposing you several amplifiers. He was fond of the legendary ones, those created by his ancestors, but you refused. You had no interest in an endless quest for power. Besides, lately you had been dreaming of a strange feathered creature, gleaming under the moonlight in the depth of a frozen forest.

When scouts sent reports of a large owl with amber eyes at the Fjerdan border, you knew it was yours.

It was the same owl that lies dead at your feet, now.

The Darkling sighs, from his corner in the darkness. “There are—“

You stop him by raising your hand. You are so angry, you can’t bear to listen to him. “Don’t. Please”.

The deal you’ve struck with him has been working until now. Your alliance has never been more solid. You have made plans together, quelled the western rebellion, turned your focus on the Fjerdan menace, growing more dangerous by the day.

There are those who whisper that the moon vixen has charmed their General, but there are also those who fear you, and respect you both. Grisha are growing stronger under your joined guidance.

As promised, he has not touched you since your confrontation. And he still doesn’t, even now that you are so miserable that only and embrace would heal your wound.

“If you would just listen”. He tries it again, but you don’t even look at him.

“I listened to you, and this is what we got”, you say grudgingly, pointing at the dead owl in front of you.

“There are other amplifiers. I told you-“

“I won’t meddle with Merzost”, you reply, exasperated. “I won’t make your mistake”.

This is a low blow. Neither of you has ever mentioned your confrontation, or what you learnt by it. You really shouldn’t have, but he asked for it. He swallows it with a bitter smile.

“You realize you do need an amplifier, if you really intend to charm the volcras and enter the Fold”, he coldly remarks. “And you made quite clear you won’t use this one”.

“I cannot use it because you killed it!” You snap.

The scene keeps playing in your head. You had been on the trail for days, a small troop of Grisha and guards accompanying you, and him, of course. He came to lead the expedition. And when you found yourself thinking he might have come only for your sake, you hated yourself.

It had been so difficult to keep your mind steady and not wander off. Everything he told you on the fateful night of the Summer Festival entered your dreams and lingered in the waking world.

You kept thinking of that night so many times. His truthfulness had been somehow exciting. It scared how much you missed him, even knowing what you knew, and you much you craved to know more, learn more about him.

You often wondered if it mattered at all.

Even while hunting the white owl, you kept wishing things were different. You wanted to go back to his tent, not yours. You didn’t want to spend the night alone. And you wished you didn’t face it all by yourself, while you were getting closer to your prey, and to the day you entered the Fold to try the boldest task you could think of. Was the past really that important, when you were both living the present?

Snow had stopped falling in the forest, the air was cold and silent. Everything happened very fast, then.

The owl descended suddenly on your arm, and you stood there petrified, staring into its large yellow eyes. You knew you had to slay it. You took a dagger from your belt, trembling, because it felt such a terrible thing to do, but you were going to do it anyway.

It was right then that the druskelle came from the woods, throwing arrows and axes; and you were the closest to them.

Next thing you knew, your face was smeared with blood. Not yours, and not the blood of the Druskelle that lay in pieces on the snow. It was the owl’s.

Now, in your tent, the Black General looks both annoyed and sorry.

“You know it was not my intention”, he marks each word. “May I point out that I saved your life?”

You raise an eyebrow, full of disdain. “I can’t believe the Shadow Summoner missed the shot”.

“I acted on instinct. If you accepted my offer to learn the Cut, you could have strike yourself. But I bet blaming me gives you much more satisfaction”.

“I cannot kill. I can only charm”, you respond. “You are the master of both”.

Anger brightens his dark eyes, but that painful grimace reveals your words have struck him deep inside.

This is getting out of hand. You breath deep, trying to calm yourself down. The dead owl is such a sorry look, but you are not sure this is the reason why your eyes fill with tears.

“There is no time for hunting another one”, you mumble, while wiping your face with the back of your hand. “We need to enter the Fold as soon as possible. We must stop Fjerda. I shall do this with my own possibilities”.

“It is too dangerous. I won’t allow it”.

“What do you propose, then?”

He pauses. Then he moves a few steps in your direction, slowly, like he’s feeling out the terrain. You don’t stop him, this time, so he reaches your side. You are finally face to face. He looks at you  fiercely, right in the eye, and gestures at the owl.

“If you really want to do this, you may have it”.

“I can’t. You killed it. It is yours”.

“I give it to you. A gift”.

You let out a nervous laugh. “Don’t tease me. It can’t be done”.

“Do I need to remind you that I have a few centuries of experience over this kind of things?”

You look at his black, bottomless eyes. It is the first time he talks of himself this way, assuming you know what you know.

It reminds you of who you are actually talking to. And suddenly fears sweeps you away.

“Is this some kind of trick?” You stutter. “Is this… was this all staged?”

He frowns. “What are you even saying?”

“Did you plan it to go this way? The Druskelle— did you know about them? Just like that you had an excuse to kill my amplifier, then persuade me to wear it anyway, while being yours— is this your plan to use me, like Baghra said?”

“Enough”. He crosses the last distance between the two of you and firms grabs both your arms. You stop your rambling at once.

“Tell me, please” he continues, his voice much softer now. “Why should I do anything like that?”

“You know why”.

He shakes his head. You are so close, now, and you should push him away, but you need to hear what he has to say so desperately. You drink up on his voice, heart racing furiously, hoping to find truth in his words. “Why would I have a slave, when I can have my equal? Even though we are not the same, as you kindly reminded me many times during our acquaintance, we share the same hope for the future. After centuries of loneliness, this is enough”.

“She told me you’d say that”, you whisper.

“I know what she told you. This is what I tell you today. Accept this gift”.

There it goes. You can’t ignore the past, but you can’t ignore the present either. You close your eyes. It is easier to talk, this way. You are not blinded by the sight of him, by how much he has grown on you despite your best efforts.

“What would you do, if I ever decide to stray from your path?”

His answer is viciously honest. “I will fight you with everything I can”.

Your heart is racing. “I will fight you, too”.

“I am sure you will”.

His hands are resting on your wrists. He gives you the slightest pull forward, almost an invitation, and you fall into his arms.

You let him kiss you, just one, long kiss, lips pressed on yours so hard it hurts, and all that’s unsaid is finally told in your embrace. You are grabbing the hem of his kefta so tight, you might tear it apart.

Your heart is aching, when you pull away. Maybe time will heal you, and you will forgive yourself for this burning desire.

“I accept your gift. And tomorrow, we enter the Fold together”.

“Together”, he repeats.

And this sting of joy, where does it come from, now?

Later, David comes to meet you. He has made a ring out of the owl’s bones, and as he presents it to you, he shyly remarks that, despite being gifted, it might still somehow connect his slayer to the actual owner.

“Nobody but you will wield its power”, he explains. “But the amplifier will always recognize who took it first. You need to know the implications of this. It might create a bond, between the two of you, that could last… potentially forever”.

The Darkling says nothing. Arms crossed, he looks at you, waiting for your reaction. And there are a million theories roaming your mind, but you choose to listen to your heart.

“Let’s do it”, you shrug. “I feel we are already bound to each other, anywhere this might take us”.

As David places the ring on your finger and begins the process, the Darkling stares at you with a blank face, but you have learnt to read him, by now, and you know what’s behind that look.

You know you mean it. You do share a bond, already, deep and unbreakable.

But you have not specified what kind of bond it is.

And by the glittering moonlight sparkling in your irises, while the amplifiers takes root, he can tell that if you were not his ally, you’d make the most unforgiving enemy of all.

Next chapter will conclude part one on this story. But don't worry, part two is coming right away! Things are about to get really rough for you, as the Moon Summoner, and I won't leave you without knowing what happens next.

If you like this story, please, reblog and comment. I love reading your feedbacks, they give me a lot of motivation to continue.

When I started writing this fan fiction, purely for fun, in a language which is not my own, almost ten years after my last fan writing and after years of working as a professional writer on the edge of a breakdown... I actually never expected to get this far. And now I'm determined to get to the end of it.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist

@mysweetlittledesire@budugu@flostvs1508@aoi-targaryen@sakshi2005 @rainy-day-lady @sakuracheol @sentimental---circus @thelastemzy @wonderland2425

[sebastians-stan]

Henry Cavill The New York Times ph. by Tom Jamieson

[littlefreya]

Feral Collision

Summary: After quitting the military, Captain Syverson began working at your university as the coach of the football team. You hardly ever crossed path with him, until an err in time set your on a collision course. 

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Reader (2nd person POV)

Word count: 4K

Warnings: Smut. Age gap (female character is over 18), inappropriate relationship, fingering, choking, unprotected sex, creampie. 

A/N: So if there I have Professor Cavill why not have Coach Syverson? It came to me in a dream! Many thanks for @agniavateira​ who did the beta in nothing but couple of hours! And for the coffee that help me up till 4am to write this. 

Comment & Reblog if you enjoyed :)

Title: Feral Collision

Afficher davantage

[henrycavilledits]

HENRY CAVILL | Hugo Boss Eyewear

[littlefreya]

I will ALWAYS reblog this, because damn that look is everything. That’s how I love his hair the most, fluffy, a bit outgrown… 🥺

[05am]

[nikolaj-costerwaldau]

Colin Farrell as Gellert Grindelwald Percival Graves in Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them (2016)

[schoolofrock-deactivated2021112]

it’s about the *proud big brother look*

[acecroft]

Henry Cavill as Sherlock Holmes in ENOLA HOLMES (2020)

[henrycavilledits]

HENRY CAVILL as Sherlock Holmes in “Enola Holmes” (2020)

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

A Grave Life Masterlist

Pairing: Percival Graves x Reader

Rating: T

Warnings: Some violence Notes: Set ~ 3 years before Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Summary: Three things happened very quickly:
 1. Wesley let out a yell of pain 
2. Tina let out a shocked laugh, and then immediately slapped her hand over her mouth when she saw who was in the other doorway
. 3. Percival Graves snapped, “Hey!”

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven Part Eight  Part Nine

Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen

Part Fourteen Part Fifteen Part Sixteen

Part Seventeen

Part Eighteen

Part Nineteen

Part Twenty Part Twenty One

Part Twenty Two

Part Twenty Three

Part Twenty Four Part Twenty Five Part Twenty Six Part Twenty Seven Part Twenty Eight Part Twenty Nine Part Thirty Part Thirty One Part Thirty Two Part Thirty Three Part Thirty Four Part Thirty Five Part Thirty Six Part Thirty Seven More parts to come! 

[henrycavilledits]

HENRY CAVILL photographed by Michael Schwartz (2019)