diamondtveit

Unfortunately this storm arrives after a very rainy winter, plus a previous storm having hit the country just 48 hours earlier. Coincide with an early spring, trees already starting to bud and grow leaves, and soft earth meaning root networks have only sodden ground to try and cling to, its looking like hundreds of thousands of homes could be without power.

On the plus side, homes here are generally made of stone, brick, or concrete, or substantial solid wooden buildings. But pretty much every govt agency is warning against travelling apart from essential journeys only.

The last time we had a storm with wind speeds this high, it cut power to 70% of the country for 10 days (1987).

So, fingers crossed we're all still here come Sunday.

500x500 Alexander Skarsgård Icons for twitter or tumblr.

SURVIVORS OF RACCOON CITY

A new day has dawned, and your eyes slide open in the morning to reveal Alexander’s still-sleeping features. Glassy blue eyes dance beneath the thin veil of his veined lids, his pink lips parted only slightly to elicit a shallow puff of air. A shadow of a stubble grows on his lower face, and his grown-out sandy blonde hair is an unruly mess atop his head. You watch the steady rise and fall of his naked chest; the subtle dusting of freckles that dot the expanse of his collarbones and the urge to rest a hand over his beating heart is overwhelming.

Another year older.

Alexander’s own eyes fall open at the subtle stir of the down duvet around him, and when he catches sight of you, his lips curve up into a sleepy smile. “You’re staring at me.” His gravelly voice bares both the weight of recent sleep and a teasing lilt, and though this will be your fourth spin around the sun with him- his beauty never ceases to astonish you.

“Only for a second.” You admit.

You regard each other in the warmth from the sunlight pouring through your open window. Alexander reaches a fingertip toward you to trace a feather-light touch down the bridge of your nose, past your philtrum, and around the outline of your lips. He sighs softly to himself. “I want to remember your face forever, kid. No matter how old I get, you know?” He clears his throat. “I want to be ninety-three years old, in an old folk’s home talking to anyone who’ll listen about this breathtaking face of yours.”

You bring the palm of his hand up to your lips to press a kiss into the soft, warm flesh there. Happy Birthday Alex lingers tauntingly on the tip of your tongue and you ache to say it so much so, that you clench your teeth shut for fear of not being able to stop yourself.

As if sensing what you’re about to say, he gives his head an almost imperceptible shake. “Don’t do it, kid. It’s a trap.” He whispers warningly, though the playful glint in his eye gives him away. “Come squish me.”

Anything for the birthday boy…

You shimmy over to him and straddle his body, your face mere inches from his own. You’ve always enjoyed this vantage point; a front-row seat to the art gallery that is this man’s visage. Your favourite part? The delicate wrinkles next to his eyes that speak novels of how much time this man spends smiling. Years of laughter and joy- and yes, some heartbreak too, live in the creases next to his glassy blue eyes and they never fail to take your breath away. He just doesn’t do birthday’s- and even that isn’t really an accurate statement. He does birthday’s when they aren’t his own. He’s actually really quite fond of them when they aren’t his own. There is something in the continual passage of time that frightens him to no avail- like if he stops for a moment to take note of anything, he’ll lose himself in the things that he still has yet to accomplish. He splays warm hands along the length of your back and you take this opportunity to pepper his face with bunches of sloppy kisses. You only stop when you feel him grin into the touch. “Will you close your eyes for me?” You murmur.

Alexander hesitates a beat before rolling them and complying.

You lift yourself from the comfort of his body, to pad your way down the hallway to the kitchen where a lone, homemade chocolate cupcake sits atop the marble counter. You push a single yellow candle into the centre of it and light it with the lighter next to the fridge. Creeping your way back down the hallway you smile to yourself at the notion that the elder man has behaved. Taking your rightful throne back, you set the cupcake down on his bare chest. “You can open ‘em now.”

Alexander does as he’s told and eyes the cupcake before him with a small smirk. “And what are we celebrating, kid?”

“Well since it couldn’t be the day you made your entrance into this world, how about we celebrate to another year… together. Another year happy and healthy and terribly in love.” Alexander moves the cupcake to the night table next to the bed and wraps an arm around your neck, pulling you down to crash his lips into yours. You lose track of time when you’re with him like this; all that exists is the weight of his lips against yours, the way he kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever do it.

He pulls away from you to murmur breathlessly, “Now it’s your turn to close your eyes.”

You are reluctant to it, knowing that he will most likely rub a bunch of chocolate buttercream over your lips just so he can kiss it off. You end up humoring him and can feel his arm reach out of the bed to the night table next to him.

Yep, here it comes…

“Open them.”

Your eyes slide open to the small, navy blue box on Alexander’s chest and your mouth suddenly becomes void of all moisture. “What is that?” you whisper.

Alexander grins. “Open it and see, kid.”

Heart thrumming wildly inside of your chest, you reach a tentative hand towards the miniature box and open it. A ring- quite possibly the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen sits perched atop a bed of cream silk. “Alex, I…”

He clears his throat to ready himself for what he’s about to say. “Commitment, change, time… they’ve always been difficult concepts for me to grasp. Each time I got closer to understanding one, it would sort of move itself just out of reach…” he traces a warm fingertip over the back of your hand. “And then I met you- this wild, unpredictable, beautiful, hurricane of a woman and I thought… when the time is right, I’m going to ask her to be my wife.” He takes a deep, steadying breath. “Birthday’s don’t have to be scary things anymore, kid. Today- it’s realizing with more clarity than I ever thought possible… that time is running out and I’d like to spend the rest of my days with you. It’s not always going to be easy, but maybe- just maybe it’ll be worth it.” He squeezes your hand thrice as tears brim in the depths of your eyes. “What do you say?”

Swallowing hard, you blink them away, and nod your head. “There isn’t a universe that exists where I don’t wife you up, Alex.”

“So that’s a yes?” He quips with a smirk.

I don’t want people to know too much about me. It’s easier for people to suspend belief that way. There’s a risk when people see you in a part and they’re watching Alexander Skarsgård. Also, I learned from my father to keep your integrity and protect your family…there are certain things that you can talk about and certain things you shouldn’t talk about.

Yeah, actually. Sometimes I feel like that’s sometimes the case when you meet musicians in death metal bands they’re like the sweetest, loveliest people who talk about their grandmothers and stuff.

Commission done for @lazarustrashpit on Tumblr featuring what would Older!Noctis look like in the LANoire!AU ( I was so happy to have such a request! hehe ) 

Slightly debauched look much, Noct?