#immortals;

[mixcoup-blog]

💎 — immortals ;

erisxmi:

There’s a teasing skeptical look that Seulgi throws his way, having to hide an amused smile forming on her lips—and she barely manages to do so, covering it with a playful roll of her eyes. “I mean, out of the ‘ethereal’ factor you would give all these new movie vampires a run for their money, so I guess I can take your word for it.” she plays along, flashing a small smile. “And it’s a good thing I haven’t tried to feed you anything with garlic. Might want to stay out of my kitchen, it’d be a death trap. Or is the whole death-by-garlic thing actually a lie?”

"yeah, the new movie vampires suck, but i guess the same could be said about all of us,” he joked, a subtle grin forming on his lips in response to his own pun. “oh, but that whole death-by-garlic thing is a total myth. you see, garlic?” he leaned in ever so slightly, and when he spoke again his voice was nothing but a whisper. “it actually makes us stronger.” his smile grew ever so slightly, though it remained subtle. “vampires started that myth, actually—not only would it clear our name if someone ever grew suspicious of us, but they’d actually be making us stronger in the process.”

[emmahalam]

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halfthechessboard

Solas shifted in his seat, laptop warming his lap as he looked at the screen thoughtfully. Rereading notes always seemed redundant, but he was nevertheless thorough. A pair of glasses was temporarily hiked up onto his forehead, resting there to give his eyes a break.

As the years had passed from the hundreds into the thousands and Thedas began to turn from castles to skyscrapers, huts to apartment buildings made of brick and steel, Solas had to adapt- as did the valkyrie he currently shared an apartment with. On a phone and lounging on the couch across from him, Solas and Phenix did not get along all the time, but shared immortality and experiences made them tolerable of each other.

As a job, Solas had taken a spot in a newspaper, writing articles that ranged from culture to magic to history. Called ‘Picking Sundries’, he usually described it as explaining many things people overlooked or ignored. Being with the company for many years, he earned a pretty penny. More than he would have expected for sharing his knowledge. Managing a blog about the same subjects under a penname had been a good decision as well.

“They’re opening the Orlesian Chateau in the Emerald Graves again. We could access it legally this time.”

[caillxach]

"You belong to me."

She’s standing in the middle of the parlour, body quivering like a leaf in the winds he commands. Head bent slightly, her ears simply listen for the familiar sound of his bare feet padding across the ice. Instead of the pitter patter of his feet, she hears his voice; that velvet promise of power. Instantly, Elsa turns around, searching, longing, needing to find him && suddenly she does.

    He’s no more than a few inches away, and once again he repeats himself with a cold hand sliding up under her chin as long fingers frame the lower side of her jaw. She shudders at his touch, melting into his familiar frost. There isn’t an denying it — Elsa belongs to Jokul. She belongs to this embodiment of winter, this spirit of snow; he promised her beautiful things of war and destruction, of pain and misery that she could bestow on stupid humans like those of Arendelle. 

          She can feel him grinning, those razor teeth just glistening. She’s holding onto his arm for dear life, body as light as the snowflakes they can create. Without him, Elsa would fall; her kingdom, her rule, her winter would all melt away. Finally finding her voice amongst the deceptively gently touches,  her eyes flutter open to stare at her Master from beneath thick lashes.

             “I belong to you.”