Many people started following you!

Emma had been playing at the lake for a while, singing a song to herself while skating along the surface. She suddenly tripped and fell, but the ice didn’t even crack at all. She lifted her head, smiling to herself, when she noticed someone was watching. “Hello! Who are you?”

Seven People Have Acknowledged You
  • cute-tooth-fairy
  • callmeciel
  • the-guardian-of-luck
  • darkwinterspirit
  • theyellowmadness
  • shine-on-black-star
  • bloodisredrosesaretoo

Eve growled at the them all, eyes narrowed as he snarled at them without sound, showing his white razor sharp teeth. What purpose do you have with someone like me? I have done nothing to any of you, so leave me be. Eve growled at them, his dead eyes glaring at them.

Some people want to have a little fun...
  • ask-fira
  • clausofthe-north
  • cute-tooth-fairy
  • ask-emmaharrisonfrost

He could sense the presence of Guardians nearby, and it sent a flicker of anger shooting up his spine. Great. Just what he wanted to deal with. He could sense two others, one more familiar than the last, which was foreign to him, but still, Jack flew towards the feelings and perched down on a tree. 

“And what do we have here?” he hummed, tilting his head to one side. 

☾ A great memory begins from a trifle ★

It was late at night, when the cold wind was howling, blowing through the dark dismal passages and squares. It took away dry leaves, old newspapers and memories about the last day, where echo still hold those voices of zany people, the prays of beggars and screams of street rats, who asked for God’s charity. Old lithic walls, impregnated with mold, were still holding those sounds, crying deafly “Alms! Alms! Alms!”
These old walls remembered the last day and hundreds of other days and years, which were before it. They remembered people, faces, their stories and argues, wars and dreams. They remembered everything, but through all this time, stayed voiceless…

There are many things in this world, which can hold memory of past days. My aim is only to make you remember about them and that how you can call them for a help.
It can be anything you knew. It can be a book with lovable beautiful pictures or it, probably, will be a little thingy, which you were gifted with once. The only thing, which I should say is what memory these things may hold. Some of them may hold everything, like these massive cold stone walls. And some of them can seem tiny and pointless, but keep something really precious to your heart.
This is why Maria always collected tiny things from her childhood. When she was small she did it only due to childish great interest to learn more about the world around her. A child she was then was quiet and enough smart to understand such things as disillusionment, disdain and divorce. Somehow, it was strange, why all these words began with “d”, nevertheless, it never confused little Maria that much as the fact of her father being a rounder and drone. Maria never new her father as somebody worthy of respect, for her mother, late Susan Hope, never told that much and always answered that Richard was an irresponsible bommer, who had interest only in money and amusement. To their mutual misfortune, Susan was very honest and fair woman and after more few conversations about the past, Maria stopped to respect any memory about of her father and concentrated herself only on the present time. Always.

In her childhood, Maria was quite afraid of thinking about her future. May be it became a weird habit of hers, but she often let everything go with the tide of restless life, when she became older. If there was a thing about what Maria didn’t like to think about more than about her future - that was her past.    And, indeed, there were no happy memories in her past. She lived a life like thousand people around did, but even when she was a wee girl, a smile rarely appeared on her chubby lips. And then a cheerful smile turned into a cunning grin. Things do change with time, and people do, but somehow, a little girl wasn’t that little and careless like many people in her age were.

Miss Richardson was a young lady, who lived together with her witchy grandmother Lydia. They both owned a big pub, which always had a lack of visitors and charm. That was an old building, which once was an opera theatre. Although there were bad rumors among local people about that place, Maria against all odds still tried to build a good business on rotten foundation. It was her only hope to get something in that gloomy everyday life. She always wished for something she never really knew for sure. And she sincerely believed that her “cabaret” will make her life a bit more complete. She had no chance to have a wealthy life of a good wife, there were no men, who would love to marry, well, a girl with a strong character and ambitions about whom people around didn’t tell so much good. The cabaret, where Maria worked as a performer had guests only in old men, who liked to get drunk together with a roof above their heads and a lovely lady, dancing around them. And though this was true, Maria never sold herself for money. She was a thief sometimes, when she put her fragile pale hand in their dirty pockets, while they were drunk. And that’s how she got some pennies sometimes. People told she was a prostitute, for they saw men coming in her pub almost every evening. Rich people never visited that place. It was too run-down for them. Probably, this will sound amusingly funny, but granny Lydia had more cavalers than Maria had ever had. This thing didn’t make the songbird sad. She was glad to see her grandmother smiling and cheerful. That woman was agile and quite vivacious for her age, and beside her Maria by herlself seemed as an old woman, for she was too calm and quite thoughtful time by time. They were both different, but somehow they cared for each other and kept the “Shelter” in order.

However, this night wasn’t the night of all those memories. Maria, who walked through the empty dark streets without a fear to be attacked to any thieves, was the one who was searching for some quiet and loneliness. All what she remembered were gloomy days, few or ten deaths, which gave her some money, again by stealing, and then, again, her dull pub. If there was any happiness in her past, she, probably, had forgot it. There was nothing else, but only she and the light of street lanterns…
The songstress stopped in the middle of the street, standing on the road, laid with pebbles, still wet after yesterdays rain. It was quite stuffily, probably, it was about to rain again this night…
The young lady decided to return to “Shelter”, but then noticed like something flashed quickly in the dim light. She squinted her eyes, trying to make out what it really was and felt anxious, slowly placing her hand in the secret pocket of her dress, where she had a little, but sharp knife. She always had it, when she was about to leave her home. Her little weapon.
Maria made few steps forward and then dared to pronounced few words firmly:
“Who’s there?”, she said and saw how something flashed again right beside her. Something small. She felt a soft drift on her skin, still being attentive.
“Come out! I know you’re hiding there!”, she said, frowning.

wings-up-no-prisoners-deactivat  asked:

OOC: I like awkward situations. So... I'm almost sorry about that. Kill Me.


He couldn’t see a thing. Darkness obscured everything, blocking out all light. How had they gotten into this situation? He couldn’t recall, but he couldn’t even see a few inches in front of him, and Jack turned sharply when he heard a dark chuckle, seeming to echo around him, and he gripped his staff tighter in his hand.

“Jaaaack..” the voice murmured softly. “How are you going to get out, Jack…?” it whispered, and Jack stiffened, waving his staff to the left, but hitting nothing but air.

The charade continued for a while, and Jack could feel himself growing frustrated, and more irrationally angry at what was happening. He scowled slightly, the darkness feeding off of his anger and amplifying it, making him see red. He had had enough.

Summoning his energy Jack let out a loud yell as he swung his staff, seeing red as the voice taunted him, and released a heavy barrage of ice spikes flying into the darkness. When the scream echoed around in the darkness, Jack’s expression fell, soon replaced with horror. He knew that scream.

“No.” He gasped, and began to run forwards, the darkness seeming to part for him as he ran, until she saw her. Tooth was pinned awkwardly against the wall by some of the spikes, one through her leg, the other her torso and the other being her left arm. Her wings fluttered weakly as her eyes looked up at him, and Jack felt terror, horror and purse self-loathing wash over him. What had he done?

“Tooth..” he gasped out, his staff falling to the ground with a clatter as he ran towards her, tears building up in his eyes as he gripped one of the icicles, moving to pull it out of her. Her cry of pain shook him to the very core, and he threw the blood-stained ice sharp to the ground, a sob threatening to rip itself out of his throat. “I didn’t.. I’m so sorry..” he gasped out, gripping the one on her arm and pulling that one out next, and tears were now openly flowing down Tooth’s face, and when he pulled out the final one, she slumped forward in his arms, unable to hold herself up.

Jack slumped to the ground with her, eyes wide, and face paler than usual as he held her close to him, trying to stem the bleeding. She couldn’t die. That.. that was impossible, wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry..” he gasped out. “I didn’t mean to get you, I’m s-s-sorry..Tooth I..I..”

A small, blood soaked hand reached up to touch his cheek gently, and Jack looked down at Tooth’s wide, teary eyes. She had no words to say, but Jack understood, and his hand covered hers as a sob finally broke through him.

Tooth’s eyes slowly slid eyes as she took her last breath, and Jack had never hated himself more.

It was all his fault.