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orangegreet · 3 years

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No Minor Miracles | Chapter 9

In a Cell, At the Bottom of the World

In which we find out how Aleksander takes the news of his Sun Summoner's impending nuptials.

Alina lay awake in the moonlight, white beams cast across their bed.

Between her thighs, the tacky seed was drying and growing itchy. On this last night at the dacha, they were lazy with keeping clean.

Exhausted and spent, the effort to clean up after every round cost too much and they opted to fall asleep in each other’s arms. Waking only occasionally to refuel with food.

She watched him doze, running her hand through his long loose hair and drawing lines across his features.

She could not leave him.

She could not go home.

At home was something she did not want to face. Did not want to do. At home were people who demanded too much of her and censured her own actions in the same stride.

Running had never seemed so appealing before now.

She could take him with her, keep him as she longed to do.

And the Tsar would die and Nikolai would be put on the throne and someone else would kill Zlatan and they would find someone else to lead the West and it could all be done without either of them.

They could go live in anonymity among the otkazat’sya. They could outlive this whole generation of people and then rise up in the next century if they wanted.

Two Immortals, two creators of the world.

What was to stop them from scrapping it all to start anew? Reducing this world into powder and regenerating something better in its place.

They held the Making at the Heart of the World between them.

Did that not give them the power to decide how the world spun next?

They could create a new world and walk it’s lands from the first day, together. They would ensure equality and freedom for all Grisha from the beginning and they would rule in tandem.

It would be a world made just for them.

With a pang she thought of Tamar. Tolya too. And Nina and Matthias.

Even of the ashes of Pabel.

The bodies of her father and mother that lay at the bottom of the True Sea.

Could she destroy a world which held all of them? Erase the people she loved, both alive and dead from existence?

Pabel would not like it. Pabel who had seen so much hurt and pain in the world that he struggled to remember how to hope.

Pabel who had claimed himself as her first true miracle. “The Sun Summoner made an old man believe things could be good again. That people with power could be good again. I thank the Saints for you, Alinochka.”

To take it all away would be to obliterate that hope entirely. Was that in her?

Her fingers brushed down the neck of her Shadow Summoner, his even breaths filled the space between them.

What would it mean to erase the Fold he created?

She wondered yet again what would have happened if she had been there to push back against his Shadow. What shape would his Shadows have taken in the presence of her Light?

It would not undo the pain he poured out onto the earth that day.

Perhaps it would be wrong to undo it. Wrong of her to clear away the evidence of his agony like wiping a tear drop from the face of the earth.

Pain is memory and Aleksander might not want to forget the few people who made a mark on his long life anymore than she wanted to part with hers.

Moreover, how could she erase the world when so many had made their marks upon it?

Just a few months and she and Aleksander would be together.

That was, if Aleksander choose to stand with her when all was said and done.

The thought of the Tsar and the Tsesarevich and their impending assassination and the secession of the West and the engagement to Zlatan and the murder of Zlatan and the transition of power to Nikolai and herself all swirled around her head, unsettling her anxieties.

Would he instead hate her for eternity? She had told him once that she could endure it. She prayed that was true.

Thinking of it any longer was causing the pressure to build in her chest and his brow was furrowed in his sleep and that was probably because her emotions were bleeding into him.

She placed soft kisses to his face until it relaxed. It relaxed her too.

But then.

His cock was hardening, pressing against her thigh and she welcomed the oblivion of sex. She kissed his pliant sleep-softened lips as he murmured unintelligible words to her and his eyes blinked open.

When he was semi-aware, Alina rolled him to his back, stroking his cock with her tongue before she settled herself over him. Soft groan issued from their throats and his hands spread over her thighs, running down them with splayed fingers in appreciative strokes.

She pressed her hands to his chest and circled her hips, warming him up and feeling the pay off as he grew inside her.

When Aleksander had fully woken, his hands captured her hips in a vice and he held her still while he thrust deep a few times.

Lightning was shooting through her belly and into her core and her head was thrown back in the pleasure of it.

Everything felt suspended. Worries, anxieties, fears. They pushed out from her being and she lived in the place where she and Aleksander dwelled as one.

The need to be close was overwhelming them both and when she pulled up on his shoulders he was already sitting up. His mouth met her breasts and his hand lay against her stomach.

His palm pushed in to feel the tip of his length as it moved in her and her mouth began to water at the feeling.

His other hand went to her lips and she laved his fingers with her tongue. His wet hand pressed firm strokes to the slippery lips of her cunt, ensuring she felt every sensation of him.

“Nothing is better than this feeling, Alina.” He confessed to the valley of her breasts.

She nodded against his hair, clutching his head as they strived to get deeper, tighter, wetter.

As if through this act they could possibly fuse together for good.

“Nothing,” she agreed, “nothing will ever be better.”

Aleksander pulled her mouth to his, struggling to keep the rhythm while he tried to consume her whole.

____________________________

It was at dusk the next day that they gathered their things.

Aleksander stood before her, dressed in his black kefta, hair pulled back into his warrior’s knot. In his face he was still soft and gentle, completely open to her and her alone.

His General’s persona was just at the edge of their room and she knew once they passed the threshold, she would not see him like this again.

May not see him like this again for a lifetime or more after this day.

Alina was already crying. Dense, silent tears rolled down her cheeks as she finished the last clasp over his chest.

His calloused hands held her face and he brushed the tears away with his thumbs.

“I cannot do this, Sasha.” She whispered.

His eyes slid shut and his forehead rested to hers. He breathed a deep, shuddering breath.

“Let us go far away from everything. We can do that.” Alina began in a flurry, “We could begin a quiet life away from everyone. Just for a while. Just for now.”

He was confused and shaking his head but she barreled on, unrelenting, “In a century we can rise up together, partners and creators and we will rule all of Ravka as we were made to do. No one will deny the sanctity of a Shadow Summoner and a Sun Summoner blessing the earth in the same moment. Everything can be ours then.”

Her knuckles were white where she clutched at his wrists and he began shushing her, thumbs still methodically brushing over her cheeks, soothing her.

If she could only make him understand that this would be the best thing.

“Where is this coming from, Alinochka?” She closed her eyes and shrugged helplessly.

His voice was strained as he spoke, “I cannot leave my people. You know that I cannot. My Grisha, all those at the Little Palace, in the Second Army. Grisha cowering from discovery for fear of death, enslavement, experimentation—you know we cannot hide, solnyshka.”

Her people waited for her as well. Waited for her to deliver them from the fate of Zlatan. From the impending alliance with Fjerda which would open hunting season on all the Grisha in the West. How could she even consider abandoning them?

Her legs were crumbling beneath her and Aleksander caught her and clutched her to his chest.

Alina was so full of everything.

Full of power and full of energy and full of passion and of love and of rage and contempt.

Why did it all make her feel so small in this moment?

Her body was some insignificant casing and in her was contained the full fury of the sun and who exactly thought this would fit together well?

She was altogether too young to feel the weight of this so acutely. It seemed that everything would go flying out from her body as soon as she rested.

Had Aleksander once felt this way? Perhaps it would take a few centuries for her to adjust.

Only she did not have that kind of time. Discernment and commitment and loyalty were already tangled inside.

His hand stroked her hair and he murmured into her ear. “Come with me now. Please, Alina. We can be together and lead as we were meant to do. It can all start right now, you just have to trust me.”

The agony of his request flared inside her and she wanted desperately to be able to follow him home.

But again she thought of Tamar—all of her friends and allies and knew that she was the lynch pin in their plan to free the West.

She knew without a doubt that she would regret not following him home anyway.

She thought of the words of his mother, Zlatan fears Aleksander. Zlatan will kill Aleksander, one way or another.

The gasping breaths of Aleksander.

A Fjerdan wolf. A zealous Secessionist.

The tether fraying in her chest.

The feeling of being unmoored. Set adrift.

Alina, floating through space and time, ungrounded, untethered.

Alone.

She had to push forward. Keep to the plan. Trust that her opportunity—their opportunity—would arise again.

They had eternity to figure it out. It was she who had determined they were Inevitable.

She who held this truth in her chest as a perpetual water wheel of hope. Rising within her and renewing her resolve to see through the circumstances before her.

One day they would truly belong to each other. The fires of doubt flared again and again but the truth of their inevitability rose and doused the flames time and time again.

She owed it to give her people their day now—those who did not have eternity.

Her breathing slowed as she composed herself. When her eyes met his, she did not need to voice her rejection of his request.

His mouth scrunched with the bitterness all the same.

“It is close.” She began, cutting off any possible disdain he could offer up.

“I am close to the end of my work in the West. I will come to you when it ends. I will follow wherever you ask when I do. I will devote myself to your will and your life and your pleasure until the world burns up beneath us. And if there is an after I will find you there and my vow will remain the same.”

Aleksander did not have words for the unease he felt between them. The anxiety and the guilt and the shame she was emitting sounded off inside of him like a warning bell.

He simply nodded, bending to gather her mouth in a kiss. One that filled them both with urgency and comfort.

“I will not be able to be in touch for at least three weeks, Sasha. Everything is all right, I just need you to know.”

“Not even—“

“No. I am almost to the end of something. If I have you to fall back on right now, I may not see it through. I have to see this through. For myself.”

He did not like the answer, she could tell. Still, he nodded in acceptance.

When he lifted her traveling cloak from the bed and secured it over her shoulders, he took care to caress her neck with the backs of his fingers as he closed the clasp.

“You promise it will be soon?” He asked.

“I do.”

_________________________

Alina emerged from the Fold well past midnight.

Her goodbye with Aleksander lasted far longer than either of them intended.

Ultimately, she ended up on her hands and knees, head arched back to view the undulating curtain of Shadows as he tugged her hair in one hand and steadied her hips with the other.

His hand wrapped into her locks and he thrust into her from behind with a punishing pace—unwilling to let her forget who had used her body in this way. Who it was who owned her body. Her soul.

Their dual cries were swallowed by the void before them and something about the swirling darkness made her feel even dirtier as she cried out her ecstasy into the void.

His head fell between her shoulder blades, arm supporting her torso as he rubbed her clit with his dripping spend, determined to leave her with another orgasm.

She came again with a whimper and he let her ride it out on his fingers and then pressed his cum back into her with soothing shushes.

She growled and then moaned. She wanted to kick him away but his fingers were still moving, feeding her aching center with his cum and she hated how much it roiled her belly with pleasure.

It was impossible to know if she could ever get enough of him.

When he buckled her trousers for her, cupping her clothed cunt all saturated with his seed, he whispered in her ear, “Wouldn’t want you forgetting me on the journey home, pet.”

And then with a kiss to her mouth, he sent her off into the shadowland.

The literal dark scar of his pain, etched into the earth by his hand.

As if she could forget him in here—her Shadow Summoner had the real flare for theatrics.

She did not want to think of anything but Aleksander anyway—did not want to redirect her focus to the other General. The man whom she would announce her engagement to in a fortnight.

Alina moved through the comfort of the Fold. Feeling as if she were still safe in the arms of her love.

Feeling that, for a couple more hours at least, nothing could touch her here.

She thought again of his request that she follow him home now. Tonight.

Just as she predicted, she already regretted her decision to say no.

__________________________

Three Weeks Later __________________________

Aleksander did not hear the sound of the cheering crowd. His breathing halted altogether.

Over the heads of thousands of people, Alina’s eyes locked with his. Her fear swirled into the swell of his anguish.

His chest tore open and the alley around him filled with a tidal wave of darkness.

Shadows poured out of his body in a geyser of black matter.

Alina was still standing on stage, with her eyes fixed on him while the other General stood beside her, waving to the crowd.

He made quick work, forming his shadow into something he could control, something large and dense which he could sweep across the crowd and use to pick up the little body of the otkazat’sya General and pull it apart into a dozen—

Aleksander froze in place.

His chest convulsed.

The shadow around him was dissolving. Blowing away like the sand at the top of a dune and he did not even have a moment to be properly confused before he fell to his knees.

He saw only blackness.

__________________________

He woke on a thinly cushioned bench, head pulsing with the furious pumping of blood and he put a hand to his forehead.

The metal rod strung between his wrists stymied the movement, clunking across the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck!” He blinked and looked down. Grisha slaver’s shackles. Aleksander shook his wrists in their steel bindings and cursed again.

Metal bars stretched from floor to ceiling across the back half of the stone room he was in. Nothing else was particularly notable with the exception of a small window inset near the ceiling of his cell.

The passing horse hooves and feet he could see through the square told him he was below ground. The brightness of the light told him he had been out a few hours.

Locked in a cell.

Shackled at the wrists.

Alina.

Alina engaged to General Zlatan.

Alina would be married to a Secessionist leader.

He had to get out.

“HEY!” He shouted, calling out beyond himself over and over again.

At the other end of the basement was a door. Aleksander fixed his eyes on that as he got to his feet, yelling as if it were powerful enough to bring the thing down off it’s hinges.

He began to hit the shackles against his cage so the vibrating metal jarred him and the clanging echoed off the stone.

The door to the chamber burst open.

Had there been any room left in his body for a spare bit of shock, he might have felt it as he watched his mother descend the stairs.

He squeezed his eyes shut, wanting desperately for her to be gone when he opened them again.

She was not. Baghra looked at him, sizing him up.

“It is good that I was close by before your little episode could play out, boy.” She said. “It would have been just like you to ruin a perfectly good plan by creating another shadow Fold and turning the public tide even stronger against Grisha.”

The shadows dissipating. How quickly his creation dispersed…

Of course his mother was involved. But then how did he pass out—

“One of our Heartrenders made quick work of you while I cleaned up your mess.”

Aleksander watched her, mind sluggish with disbelief. Pain. Betrayal too.

“I do regret that,” she said, pointing at the slaver bar keeping his hands from touching, “for what it’s worth.”

There was a muffled commotion sounding through the barrier of the door. Baghra glanced behind her and then returned her attention to her son.

“Humph. I supposed I will not have long uninterrupted—”

“Is this where you have been, Baghra?” Aleksander asked. He looked around again, gaining his bearings as he processed the events of the last twelve hours.

“Yes and no. West Ravka is new to me in the last few years. Before this we were mostly overseas.”

His eyebrows raised, surprised at how easily she was answering his questions. Struggling to take advantage of it even as he could barely comprehend the circumstances. The series of events which brought him here.

“You said…a plan—what are you doing?” He asked. “Who are you doing it with?”

Very few times in his life did Aleksander feel like he was out of step.

With Alina, that was essentially the rule. However, now he knew his mother was somehow folded into his captivity, he was growing weary with all the plot points that were not his own.

“Hush boy. There is barely any time to go over all of that with you. I’m here to talk to you about what you really want to know.”

Shadows fell from beneath his clothes at the reprimand. His shackles prevented him from controlling them properly but they congregated around his ankles all the same.

“And what is it you think I want—” He began through gritted teeth.

Baghra rolled her eyes, cutting him off, “Your Sun Summoner, stupid boy.”

The commotion behind the door was growing louder.

Aleksander sneered at her and looked away. The idea that his mother was privy to his desires was a gross realization.

He could not deny it. He hungered to know everything she knew about Alina.

His body craved to swallow up everything everyone in the world knew about Alina. On this side of the Fold, it was clear, just how much of her life was obscured from him.

“As I said, you almost ruined our plan today. The truth of the Sun Summoner is not yet known to the public—at least, not as Grisha. Alina or rather the otkazat'sya 'Anya', is a well loved public figure in the West. This engagement to Zlatan is what we would call an undercover assignment.”

Aleksander grew uneasy as more questions pestered his slow-moving brain. The blood still pumped furiously and the noise outside the door continued and he had not seen his mother is over ten years.

As if all of that weren’t dividing him, his insides were still being eaten alive at the image of Alina’s hand in Zlatan. At the image of a wedding day between them.

Aleksander cricked his neck, determined to focus. “Why are you telling me this?” He growled.

A bang sounded from the other side of the door and a white flash of light illuminated through the cracks.

Baghra had a look on her face that he could not place. She was hesitating—something she never did.

Then her wrinkle-lined eyes met his. Guilt.

He read it on her face, plain as day. Though, it had never appeared to him before. At least not in memory. It was a marvel to witness—rare as the Sun Summoner herself.

“What did you do?” He asked.

The guilt dissolved into a scowl.

“What I always do—exactly what has to be done. We needed a way into the Secessionist party so we could bring it down. Alina was able to provide one for us. She was simply doing her duty—”

The din from the hall was growing louder. Another flash and then a scream.

The door burst open for a second time.

Alina stood, silhouetted on the threshold, chest heaving.

“Get out.” She hissed at Baghra.

The malice in her tone was shocking to him.

Had he not been so murderously heartsick over her in the moment, he might have been aroused to feel something more.

The surge of heat he felt was quickly squashed under the image of Zlatan holding her hand and simpering to the crowd.

Baghra lifted one imperious brow and left out the door.

Alina bolted it behind her.

She practically ran to him. Desperation written on her face as her hands wrapped around his through the bars.

Aleksander stiffened, carefully wiping his face of emotion as he backed away.

“Are you okay? Have they hurt you?”

Her desperate and pleading looks were too much to bear. On her hand, the gleam of the engagement ring caught his eyes. He sneered at the sight of it. Shining, even in the dim light.

In himself he found a cruel smile to give to her.

“Alina. Welcome.” He gestured around himself. “As you can see, my new place is sparse but over time I’m sure I will come to call it home.”

“Aleksander…”

In spite of the fact that he did not want to succumb to his bitterness—at least not immediately—he found that the persistent gleam of her ring would not stop twinkling in his eye and he could not stop himself. “Forgive me, dear. Congratulations are in order, aren’t they?”

Aleksander gestured toward the ring, his hands still heavy with the steel rod. Her eyes lingered on the shackles and then met his eyes again.

She looked afraid.

Good.

He continued, “I should thank you, I suppose. For choosing me to work out all your pre-wedding kinks. As you now know, I am quite skilled between the sheets. My one downfall is that I’m a terrible bragger. I am thinking of writing Zlatan a detailed letter of every way I have used his future wife’s body.”

Horror was painted over her face and Alina shook her head at him. “ You cannot think that I—that is not what happened with us.” She was breathless. Catching up to his words and his emotions.

Both of them once again playing the game of trying to guess the other’s thoughts. Both of them trying again to head the other’s thoughts off at the source.

Alina swallowed, glaring at him with resolve. “Aleksander, no. You mean more than him…that week meant more than—”

“Come now, Alina. You don’t have to be shy with me. I have seen you from every angle now,” The abrupt shift in his tone alerted her that he spoke of more than sex. “Who better to describe every facet of your being than I?”

“Listen to me, Sasha, please—”

Aleksander hit the slaver shackle against the bars of his cage. Alina jolted and stumbled backward as the sound again echoed off the stone walls.

That she would call him that name. That she dare use that name to coax him into submission—it was despicable.

He tore his eyes away from her, willing his emotions to abandon him in the process.

She wanted to be candid, very well. He could provide candor. “You have betrayed me. Utterly and completely.”

Her breath hitched. He did not look at her to see the tears he knew were already in her eyes.

Aleksander continued, voice even and empty, “If I could rip the light out of you and give it to someone else, I would do it. I would do anything to cut my tie from you.”

Anything that will numb it all again.

In his periphery, he watched her legs give out. Silently crumpling beneath her weight until she was kneeling quietly on the floor, her hands still clamped to the bars for support.

“I asked you not to come.” She said, softly. “I said you had enemies on this side of the Fold."

“You failed to inform me that you were one of them.” His tone was still flat and lifeless.

“I am not your enemy, Sasha—“

He stiffened, his jaw clenched. “Do not use that name with me.”

The quiet fury seeped from his otherwise controlled voice. “That you would name me with affection when you have sworn yourself to another man is the gravest of insults.”

Alina reached her arm through the bars, willing to touch him—to have him look at her.

“I am not sworn to him, Sasha."

“You are not permitted to use that name!” He shouted at her, composure breaking as his yell also echoed around the chamber. She flinched.

He paced the wall, breathing heavy from his thoughts. How did this happen? How could he not have known?

How could she not have told him?

Alina took a breath.

“Zlatan does not know me. He does not have my true name nor does he have anything true about me. He is angling for a political marriage with Anya.”

Aleksander huffed.

In truth, even he had heard of this woman. This sainted being from across the Fold capturing the heart of commoners. It was a smart move on the part of Zlatan, this ploy to tie the love of the people into his rule.

Except—now Zlatan would have to be ripped apart by shadow as soon as Aleksander could get his hands freed.

Zlatan, his hand holding Alina’s. Zlatan, marrying the Sun Summoner before the entire country.

“And has Anya spread her legs for the esteemed General Zlatan?” He asked, hoping it hurt her to hear the words as much as it hurt to ask them.

“Has she done her duty for the new leader of West Ravka? This Anya might be a saint but I’m sure the way she uses her mouth and her cunt is completely divine.”

She clenched her teeth, growling at him. Sunlight rose to the surface of her skin and he stared down at her with blank eyes.

"I have never allowed him to so much as kiss my lips.”

He scoffed, “Saving it all for the wedding day, are we? Well I suppose Anya is as big a tease as you are, Alina. The part must be terribly easy for you to play.”

Tears were falling down her cheeks and she gripped the bars as she got to her feet.

“I cannot discuss this with you right now.” She choked on the words, starting to back away.

He launched himself at the door, chest pressed to her fist, trapping her hand around the bar where she stood, already half turned toward the door.

Aleksander’s eyes were feral as they finally met hers.

“You let me believe you were mine.” Her face crumpled further, tears streaming as she spoke.

“I am yours.”

“You are a liar.” His teeth were clenched and to his own growing horror, his vision blurred with unshed tears and his voice cracked. “I have been betrayed by hundreds of people over my lifetime. None have been as cold or as treacherous as this. I will never forgive you for this, Alina.”

Alina stared into his eyes for several long moments. With her sleeve, she wiped her eyes and her nose. Sighing, she pulled away from him.

“You must be hungry. I will be back.”

It was obvious she was about to return only because the yelling commenced outside the door.

Still, the door opened and she stood at the top of the stairs, quite alone. Her demeanor was rankled but she closed the door firmly behind her, balancing a tray on one hand.

Aleksander watched her from his seat as she unlocked the cell and entered. The cage was opened but his hands were still bound and he was dangerously close to her now.

It hurt to be so close.

The tether inside of him pulsed, itching to light up and stretch between their chests as it had done a dozen times the last month. Aleksander closed his eyes and breathed, willing the thing to coil itself back up so he could press it down again.

Alina straddled the bench next to him and picked up the piece of bread, dipping it into the stew on the tray and holding it out to his lips.

Though the cell was open, his hands, evidently, would not be unbound for him to eat.

Aleksander turned his face away from the proffered food and stared out the small window at the fading daylight.

“Would you rather me send someone else here to feed you?” She asked, quiet and small again.

He hated her for it.

“I would rather you killed me than continue to force me through this humiliation.”

Alina sighed and took a bite of the food herself.

Just a few weeks ago, she had fed him. She sat on his lap and spooned jam on a roll and he licked the excess sweetness from her fingertips. Then when breakfast was done, they pushed the food aside and she fed him with her body, legs spread open on the table so he could feast on her cunt with the voracity of a starving wolf. His tongue had explored her, devouring and stroking until she had finished twice. After he had pulled her lips to his, feeding her body right back to her.

The memory sent a lurch through him.

Her eyes met his and she cleared her throat. The regret and shame in his gut told him they both felt the desire of that moment.

Just as he sometimes shared the feelings of her euphoric orgasms, she would feel his desire for her in return.

“Zlatan has never touched me.” She said, their shared feeling a natural lead in. “He will not ever touch me intimately. I swore the truth to you that day when I said I would only be yours.” She put the food behind her on the bench and shifted toward him.

“Zlatan needs me to further his agenda only. He does not require me to even pretend affection. We, my friends and I, are using him to bring me into a place of leverage and power. Once I am established, we will kill him. We know under his lead, we will never get freedoms or protection for Grisha. Under my rule, it will be law.

“Please believe me. There will be no wedding. No newly wedded kiss. No wedding night.”

Alina lay a soft hand on his arm, “I will slit the throat of Zlatan myself. I will do it in front of you if it is what you wish. I would have you watch as I take his life.”

His eyebrows twitched as indiscernible emotions waved across his features. His breaths were quick but deep. He could not deny the image she provided him was a pleasant one and she had all but cooed the promise into his ear.

“I understand you do not trust me, Aleksander. For that, I am sorry. If I could go back and tell you everything, I would.” She chewed on her lip, “Actually, if I could go back, I would have gone home with you when you asked me a few weeks ago. I would do anything to make this different.”

The churning in his stomach had been placated somewhat. The pain at the thought of Alina letting him into her body only to give it someone else had dulled a little.

A plot for power he could understand. Taking advantages when offered freely was a rule he generally followed without exception. This was war and Grisha would never be in a place to be given the freedom of a safe life. The freedom had to be wrenched from the hands of those who withheld it.

Alina took a chance, dipping the bread back in the stew and raised it to his lips again.

His eyes told her he still did not trust her but he did open his mouth for a bite.

He chewed in silence, unsure what to say next.

He wanted to know everything now.

He wanted to destroy her.

He wanted to fuck her until she cried.

He took the next bite offered and chewed.

“And the Tsar?” Aleksander said eventually, “You had him assassinated, did you not?”

She blinked, apparently forgetting her hand in the demise of the ruler of Ravka. Then again, it was not yet public knowledge on this side of the Fold. He had only received the intel hours ago.

“Yes and no. You told me the crown would align with Shu Han. Our Council has had someone in place for a very long time to take out the Tsar and the crown prince at our signal.”

Aleksander closed his eyes and grunted. The information he had shared had been useful to her after all.

He had been arrogant. Idiotic. Believing she would not be able to enter his territory without him knowing.

“How?”

Alina watched him with trepidation. Still, he did not look at her.

“A Squaller. He is young. We sent him to the Little Palace some time ago and he has been there waiting for the right moment.”

“A young Squaller…Kalem from Novyi Zem.” Aleksander said, nodding his head in understanding and internally screaming.

He had been highly impressed with the boy. Overlooked the fact that he was quite impressive for being so new to the Little Palace.

Sighing, he got to his feet, no longer able to stand being near her once again, “You have to let me go, Alina.”

She frowned.

“My army is marching back to Os Alta as we speak. Once the court finds out it was a Grisha who took out the tsar and the crowned prince, there will be no one to protect them. Not the army, not the teachers.”

He looked back at her, scrutinizing her. “Alina, there are children in the Little Palace. Did you not consider this?”

“Of course we did.” She seethed. “Kalem has ensured everything points back to the visiting Shu delegates. No one will be surprised that they have betrayed their own peace talks.”

“But you cannot be sure,” He said, pacing the cell. “You cannot be sure and I cannot stay here when there are people who count on me. Why did you not consult me?”

He glared at her, “Do you doubt me so much that you would go behind my back and put me in this position?”

“No, I do not doubt you!” Her tears and her tone made her surge of desperation all the more evident.

“Then why, Alina!?”

She flinched and then looked at the door.

“It was out of my hands.”

“Do not dare lie to me. You did not need to tell them what I confided to you about the arrangement with the Tsar and Shu Han but you did.”

“I did no such thing!” She got to her feet and was finally angry. "Kalem has been monitoring the situation for months. He knew it was time and he waited for approval from the Council first.”

Alina clutched his arms, forcing him to face her. “It was planned before we went away together. That is why I invited you when I did. I did not want anyone in the Palace to suspect your involvement.”

Frigid air cascaded into his chest, choking his lungs. A bitter laugh tore out of the cold.

He ripped his arms out of her grip and slammed the steel rod against the bars once.

The metal clang rang through the room once more forcing Alina to cover her ears.

He hit the bars again.

Then again.

Aleksander was yelling soon. Loud, raging bellows, deep and guttural, joined the clanging as he hit his hands against the bars over and over and over.

He could not stop the fury pouring out from him along with his shadows. They wafted around him without agency, their master unable to lift his hands to control them properly.

Aleksander shouted himself hoarse and blood seeped from the wounds beneath the shackles and the pool of shadows crept over the floor, filling the room.

Only then did he stop, chest heaving and forehead resting against the cell bars.

Alina approached him with caution. She touched a hand to his back and he stiffened. She flinched back.

“Let me out of here, Alina.” His voice croaked, raw from his rage. “This has gone on long enough. I have to go where I am needed.”

She said nothing for a moment.

“Aleksander, please.” Her voice was so small again and closed his eyes against her. He hated her. He had to hate her. It was easier than loving her.

“Sasha, I need you.”

If he could wish for anything at that moment, it would have been the will to believe her. The will to believe that most of the thoughts and words she had spoken to him over the last few years had been true.

He couldn’t.

“You have just told me that you not only took the throne out from under me, undermining my leadership of both the Little Palace and the Second Army in doing so, but on top of that, this week away together…This time which you so generously granted me, was some sort of ruse to serve your agenda.”

“That is not what I said. You are willfully twisting my words.”

“Am I?” He asked, his voice was empty again. Alina turned his face toward his, her palms were hot on his cheeks and he closed his eyes so he would not have to look at her. The anguished tears on her face already burned into his vision.

“Yes! You do not understand. You are used to being in charge of everything. You believe that I am in charge here but I am not.” Her forehead pressed against his.

He remained unmoved.

“Then take charge, Alina. Get me out."

The door to the chamber opened again and Aleksander turned to see his mother once more.

Alina scowled at Baghra like a feral cat. His mother looked between the two of them and eventually landed on Alina.

“I have convinced the Council it will be in our best interest to let the General return to Os Alta.”

Silence fell between the three of them. It stretched until Baghra let out an impatient noise and gestured for Aleksander to step toward her.

Baghra stood just outside the cell, a key clutched in her hands as she pulled Aleksander’s arms toward her.

Aleksander held still while his mother removed the bar from his wrists. Alina stood beside him, her hands closing over his bloodied wrists as they became free.

He watched her, cataloguing her features. Those wide and fearful eyes, her anger at the wounds he now bore. She wanted to fuss over him and he was tempted to let her.

Tempted to fall back in.

How easy it was to forget she was so young. She was still so malleable and full of raw potential. The people here did not know what it was they held.

And she did not know yet how to withdraw from the influence of others.

Perhaps he should have expected that when she fell out of his grasp, she would end up ensnared in another. Could he hold her responsible for this?

It felt impossible to decide. He was too close to the book and he had to put his mind and his focus back where it mattered.

Alina was out of his purview for the time being.

He tore his eyes from her and looked at his mother expectantly.

“We have horses saddled and ready to return you to the Fold and then on back to the Little Palace. It is expected that you will work with Nikolai, Darkling. As Tsar he will protect Grisha and keep the Second Army in his service.”

Aleksander made no acknowledgement, simply staring at the ancient woman before him. The one who raised him and endured century after century as he did.

He walked around her.

“You have done well without me, boy.” Baghra said to his back.

He scoffed, reaching for the chamber door. Alina was at his heels.

“And this Summoner,” Baghra gestured at Alina. Reluctantly, he turned to look. “She did not choose this. She is doing this for you—to protect you. For the good of Grisha.”

Alina’s eyes stared at the floor in shame as she passed.

Without a word, he followed her through the door.

________________________________

He stared up at the black curtain. The dark of nighttime surrounded them once more and their horses shuffled at the edge of the Fold.

Aleksander looked down at his hands. When he had come through the Fold just last evening, he felt he had something to hold onto.

The Light lived in his palms and was dependent on the strength of his connection to his other half.

Together, he and Alina had ventured deeper into the Making at the Heart of the World and while there, they could use the elements almost interchangeably.

And now, once again, he found himself removed from her. No trust between them—not any more.

Perhaps in time they could reforge something but, as it was, Aleksander could barely spare a thought for the woman who, just a night ago, ruled his very existence.

The pain was too much to bear and the offenses too great a burden to carry.

Only now, leaving it behind was an issue. The Darkling would be unable cross through his Shadow Fold without the volcra descending upon him. Without the protection of her Light—of their connection—it was useless.

“I need your help.” He said. The words wrenched from his mouth. “With crossing, I will need your help.”

Alina was quiet and he sensed the questions she wanted to ask but instead she just answered, “Of course.”

________________________________

The journey through the Fold was silent.

On the other side, Alina swung her body down from the horse without a thought and waited for Aleksander to do the same.

Longingly, he stared out at the field and contemplated taking off for Os Alta without a backward glance. It was easier than a goodbye.

Zlatan’s hand. Zlatan’s ring on her finger. Lie after lie after lie. He was so weary.

When he joined her in the small space between their two horses, he could not help the way his hands gravitated to her cheeks. She was warm in his hands and he wanted to swallow the gasp from her mouth. Wanted to hold his mouth over hers and share the same breath they way he felt they shared the same life force.

Her face was cradled in his palms and for a moment he distanced himself from his own confusion—long enough to look fully into her eyes.

“Alina. I don’t know when I will see you again.” Her eyes closed and she tried to pressed forward but he held her still. Lie after lie after lie. It was too much just now. “And I do not think I want to see you again.”

The space between them grew warm with her breaths which were barreling in hard and quick.

Aleksander felt the panic inside of her. Felt it trying to creep across their connection but he blocked it out as best he could. It hurt to love her and he was a General and he had responsibilities and she was engaged to another General and she promised she would not fuck him but he couldn't process that right now and it gave him no release.

“Do not try to get in touch with me. For now I want to pretend as if you never existed. I want to believe I have not met you. That I have not touched you.”

She cried, her head sagging in his grip. Her tears wetted his hands and he pulled up on her face, demanding her attention. She had to understand that she had pushed him beyond what he was capable of handling right now. She had to understand.

“Do you hear me? Not a trace. Please—I cannot bear it.” His voice broke. Alina’s eyes raked over his face, savoring his features and he knew he looked wrecked as he gazed down at her in return.

Any second he would cave inward, crumble beneath the weight of it all.

She nodded.

Aleksander turned from her, gathered the horse’s reins in his hands and pulled himself back onto the saddle.

He left her there, abandoned her at the edge of the Fold. He did not look back. His palms were still warm from her skin.

________________________________

When he caught up to his troops, it was before they had even completed the return trip to Os Alta. He welcomed the presence of Ivan and Fedyor in his company once more.

The torture of three days spent alone with his thoughts was finally ended and he entered the tent with a renewed sense of purpose.

Divulging all he learned to them—the assassination, the impending secession of the West and any next steps he worked out on a speeding horse in the last three days—returned to him a sense of control.

________________________________

A scant two weeks were spent at the Little Palace, securing defenses and paving the path for the new Tsar. Nikolai proved to be a more natural leader at least than his older brother, may he rest in peace.

Aleksander, thankfully, did not feel the need to grovel before him, nor did Nikolai expect it.

Indeed, when they are alone, save a couple guards at the door, Nikolai confided in his General. “I have received word from mutual friends of ours that you are to be trusted. I hope that is true.”

Aleksander eyed the newly minted Tsar and nodded. He had at least ascertained that the Tsar did not know the role their “friends” played in the assassination of his father and brother.

Nikolai was content to blame the Shu as all evidence indicated and Aleksander held the information close to himself, waiting for the appropriate time to use it.

________________________________

At the request of his Tsar, he returned to Kribirsk a mere fortnight after he left it. Having delivered the news that the West began steps in secession, Nikolai agreed that another trip through the Fold would be required as a final supply run before the inevitable civil war could begin.

The General thrived at the front, well distracted from the issues which plagued him just three weeks before.

Though he had meant it when he told her he wished to believe they had never met, it was not easy to commit to this sentiment for long.

At night, he dreamed of her. Felt her skin under his hands and could not stop himself from taking every part of her body for himself. In the darkness of his dreams she glowed and he watched in awe, always surrounding her, closing her into his cocoon of darkness. Protecting her, protecting them both from the world around them.

He tried not to let it drive him back into madness. Although he wished things could be different, he was at least resigned that it was only a matter of time before they reconnected.

They were magnets—opposite sides of the same thing. One of their existence beget the other and vice versa. What they were could not be undone or detached. How deeply he had missed her. How intrinsically linked they were and how wrong it felt to be divided from her.

They circled each other on and on and into eternity.

For now, though, he stubbornly clung to his hurt.

For her part, Alina did an exemplary job adhering to the promise she made to him. Alina did not so much as twinge in his direction for a solid month. And so, when the inexplicable tugging started in his chest, despite his request of her, a burst of hope radiated through him.

It was immediately followed by dread.

Accompanying the tug was a searing pain, rendered into the very heart of him. The General disappeared into the privacy of his tent, going to her at once.

“Alina?” He whispered, her body a hazy mass on the ground.

She was passed out on a dirt floor. Aleksander could not make out any of her surroundings.

“Alina?” He kneeled beside her.

Dark hair obscured her face and he tenderly lifted it, brushing it away. Her lip was cut and she had a gash across her temple but she was otherwise unmarred.

Her hands were trapped in a similar device used to keep him from summoning just weeks earlier, the steel Grisha slaver rod.

Aleksander lifted her gently into his lap, wrapping an arm around her back and cradling her head in the crook of his arm.

“Alina. Wake up.” Gently, he patted her face.

Her face scrunched.

“Alina, please.” He kissed her forehead.

Eyes blinking slowly, she looked up at him, “You came.”

“Where are you? What happened to you?”

“My friends cannot…” She coughed. “It’s been a while and no one has come…I’m sorry…I d-didn’t know what else to do.” She coughed again and he held a hand to her cheek, bringing her focus back.

“Your friends did this?”

She shook her head, eyes clenched in pain. “You have to tell them…they need to know. ’S going to ruin everything.”

“Who, Alina?” He held her face tipped up.

Her voice was croaky, “H-he is going to kill me in the morning.”

Alina took a deep breath and breathed out a sob which broke her composure, “He will kill me and then he will come for you. He wants you dead, Sasha and I won’t be able to stop him.”

“Zlatan? Alina, where are your friends?”

Her head lolled on his arm, “Look at me.” Aleksander said, jostling her as he brought her face close to his. “What happened?”

“Zlatan knows.” She whispered. “What does he know?”

“That I was going to kill him.” She said, voice fading. “He knows now that I am the Sun Summoner. He knows and now he will make sure I die.”

#darklina fic #darklina fanfic #darklina #alina x aleksander #alina starkov #aleksander morozova #smut #betrayal #power dynamics #politics #eventual hea #the grisha trilogy #grishaverse

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razorblade180 · 4 years

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An original story?

I finally have the time to answer the question @mrsevenplus7 asked about if I ever thought about creating an original story or world; the answer is most definitely! There’s several worlds over the years that I’ve created in my head and written things about. There’s one in particular that leans towards fantasy but still has realistic elements. (Keep in mind this concept was originally thought of when I was in middle and completely infatuated with RWBY/Final Fantasy. I’m in college now 💀) I apologize in advance for the words vomit.

Breakthrough

World building

This is a world that geographically speaking is much like ours. Rolling hills, scorching deserts, icy tundras, vast oceans, ect. Since the beginning, the make up of this world could be credited to eight elemental crystals. Fire, Water, Air, Earth, Lightning, Ice, Light, and Darkness.

Man since the beginning of their discovery of these crystals saw them as divine entities that helped them survive by giving them the potential to become stronger. It would’ve sound a bit ridiculous, if it wasn’t literally true. Around a certain age the human body gained an affinity to one of the crystals that manifested in a variety of ways. An ice user can be particularly skilled in creating objects out of the element while another used the property of snow. A fire user might envelope themselves in flames while a second user creates explosions. Even those with similar manifestations find unique ways to differentiate themselves through unique qualities of simple just being different people. It was quickly noticed the four basic elements were slightly more common than the others if only by a relatively small margin. Despite all the differences, one thing remained constant for all humans beings. An untapped potential that ran to the very essence of their power.

Many could feel this potential inside of them. These internal barriers that capped of the limits of their abilities. Some precived them as walls, while others envisioned them as chains or a fence but it was all the same. In time, people learned that with training of the body, the mind, their powers, and discovering a better idea of themselves, it was possible to overcome one barrier after another. They could break through and gain more power. This began an age of self improvement and technological advances. Knowledge was shared throughout the world. Civilizations expanded in even the most unlikely of places and it was common to mostly find people with the same affinity creating and living in places tailored for their needs.

Full blown cities that ran predominantly off of electricity. Fishing settlements and tribes that never feared the mysteries of the oceans thanks to their water control. Many other remarkable feats were achieved in the far future because of the power granted by the crystals. However, before humanity didn’t get to that glory over night. Before they reached the height of their progress they had to face the natural horrors of this world that went beyond the regular wildlife. The crystals might have given them strength, but it could also be the bane of their existence.

The elements itself had also taken the form of vast wildlife creatures that more often than not ruined what humans tried to build and seemed to have a natural aggression towards the species in general. Stallions made of earth with the power to cause tremors or mudslides as they stampede. Massive gust of winds that took the shape or large birds. Wolves that faded into shadows and stalked in the dead of night. Some “Elementals” were more difficult to dispose of then others but none could be taken lightly. A greater danger awaited once one was killed. Their bodies simply became like the element it was constructed out of and a black miasma like substance was expelled. Inhaling a small out was enough to hinder people and cause an incurable sickness that effects their powers. Inhale too much and your being would succumb and turn you into Humanoid Elemental that was devoid of any soul or the humanity they once had. All they had left was the strength they had acquired and a higher intelligence. It was one such monster that changed the course of history forever.

In universe lore

Something had happen back in the days where man was still getting the fundamentals tapping into their potential. Tales of a being in the form of a woman that had unlocked their full power spread across the globe. Not only that, but it had the power of all the elements and was laying destruction to any who barred its path. Such a tale was seen as just that, a tale. No one was ever that had the powers of each crystal. Also, such a person would surly had to have had some kind of spiritual balance if they had unlocked the end of their potential. Yet as ridiculous as it was, it soon couldn’t be ignored.

Slowly the weather became more treacherous. Stories of men, women, and children seemingly vanishing out of nowhere turned into entire villages being erased from the map. There was something out there and no one who has seen it lived to talk about it. The days themselves began to change which would bring on two more phenomena that were signaled by the moon. In the span of a month two events occurred. A blue moon that bathed the land in a light that enhanced powers for a full day. Then a red moon that did the same for the Elementals. All these strange things that could not be explained continued to raise more questions until humanity was given an answer in the form of a foe. Someone had finally lived to tell their tale. A battered man who was approaching deaths door.

He spoke about how a young woman with red eyes and ghost white hair came strolling into his village; the one closest to the wind crystal. The woman wore nothing but a worn out robe and her skin looked the color of bone. The only thing in her possession was an odd tool which would later be known as a scythe. Somehow she seemed drawn to crystal and new exactly where to go. His people forbade direct contact with it like all homelands did that were founded around it but she did not care. When warriors came to deter her, they were met with the same sight as anyone else. The look of a weeping women, then an instant death. The man didn’t see when she moved her arm but he felt the wind come off the attack before being sent flying and nearly blacking out. Barely conscious enough to see his people be slaughtered by Elementals of every type that obeyed her faithfully for she had created several before his eyes. The tale was true and terrifying. That woman continued to press on until it made contact with the wind crystal and caused the formation of a storm like no other. Not once did she ever smile. Only tears. But the man had seen something in her. An evil that ran deep and twisted as the darkest parts of humanity itself. Was this woman, this creature ever human? Or was it an Elemental that started off like this from the beginning? Stronger, faster, aware.....he asked it what it’s name was and it only said one thing. “Sin”

The man died shortly after telling the story but it had done the job it needed to, call people to action. Brave warriors everywhere rose to face this new threat and the beasts it brought along. Many of them confident in their unlocked potential to bring the being known as Sin down to its knees. Countless tried, and they failed. Hundreds upon hundreds either fell in a battle they weren’t prepared for or defending what they could. Soon all the crystals were thrown into a state of shock and the world ran rapid with extreme weather for years; humanity pushed to the brink and Sin vanished. It should’ve been the end. Until one day, one man met seven people and became legends.

This man have had enough of living in despair. Watching his people endure ever since the day he was born was painful. Being born in the tundra and granted power over ice meant weather was always an extreme to overcome from the start, but not like this. It was only possible with the help of trade from other villages which was all but destroyed. So he trained. He trained physically and mentally from the time he was a teenager until he was mid twenties like if it was his destiny to change things. Then one day he decided to finally put it to the test. The man traveled acrossd the icy landscape until he reached the coldest place near the center; the ruined homeland where the crystal still rest. Guarding it was massive and ferocious ice Elemental in the form of a snow fox. The man should’ve been dead on the spot. He was only armed with scythe as a way to tell the world that it could achieve power as boundless as Sin. Perhaps it was that belief that was the key. He slayed the beast and brought a calm to the crystal once more. It was a harrowing experience and he had partly a blue moon to think for it but he did it nonetheless. He showed the world that they weren’t gonna die so easily. And so began his journey.

The man sailed of to locate the other crystals and start putting the world back in order. Calming the crystal had brought him more understanding of his power and that brought greater strength. This brought him to a grassy plain where another who was tired of living in fear wanted to make a change and asked to join him on this quest. Despite how many times he denied this middle aged man the right to travel along, the ice warrior could not get rid of him! Days passed before they reached the wind crystal and encountered another deadly Elemental guarding it. This time it was a was a massive wind condor. The ice man thought beating it would be a simple task but he was wrong. It had nearly cost him his life if wasn’t for the older man by his side. Not only did he control wind as well, but he managed to deliver the final blow needed with the iceman’s scythe and brought another crystal to peace. He too seemed to have grown from the experience and found new strength. The two of them continued on as equals to save the world.

The power of wind meant sailing to the ruins of island of the water crystal possible without the destruction of their boat. However, they needed a proper guide of the sea and found that in a young women who also wanted to make a change. The three of them sailed of together and the beginning of a pattern started to form. It wasn’t that humanity had given up fighting, but finding those with the will and means to go on was scarce. It was hard to self improve when so much tragedy fell around you. Like the last two, an Elemental stood in their way but together they bested it and their new teammate managed to calm the crystal.

The cycle repeated. For each crystal they traveled to, someone eager and ready to join tagged along. Each time the ice warrior was wary but grew to appreciate their help. A menacing Elemental of unique form tried to kill them but never got the chance. They knew that it wasn’t just random animals either. It was always indigenous to the region and more importantly, had a sinister and potent miasma unleashed from them that was more dangerous than the regular foes they encountered. As the group slowly grew, they learned from each other. Their lives, likes, dislikes, training, skills, dreams, fears..... it was all shared. They had become friends. All of them more than capable of learning how to use a scythe in order to spread the ice warrior’s beliefs. Sometimes they faught but they would make up. The team eventually became eight strong; one for each crystal type. All that was left was light. Seven out of eight had gained exceptional strength from calming their crystal and they felt ready for anything. Not because of their individual strength, but because a new power they had discovered over the three year long journey of saving the world.

Working together, truly connecting with each other. It allowed for something that the warrior of water and darkness people believed in; they could use each other’s powers in combination with their own. The technique was difficult and way more straining than other things they had learned. Not to mention it was only possible to use one other power at a time, but done right had amazing results. Results they did not know they would need for the final Elemental. The group found themselves walking up a huge tower known as The Stairway to Heaven. It was here that the light crystal resided, but not guarded the same way as rest. No, instead it was guarded by a familiar set of blood red eyes and ghostly appearance. Sin stood in their way. It had been here the entire time. Only this time it was bathed in a brilliant holy light with seven dark pools around it. The aura it gave off was immediately recognized as whatever remained from the previous Elementals. Sin had divided its power in an effort to defend the crystal; all this time they had been fighting the being that was supposed to have vanished years ago. Now it was back at complete strength.

The group did not waver; not even the warrior of light who had still yet to awaken her power by the crystal. It was now or never. Save the world or die trying. The only thing left to do before the fight was ask why? Why had this creature throw the world into such chaos. “If you have the potential to do anything, why shouldn’t you do everything? Destroy it all and create from the ruble.” The answer was unsettling. Any person with simple morals and able to have achieved such power surly would’ve known being able to do something did not inheritly mean they should. The warriors asked what exactly was it. Human gone Elemental? An Elemental in the form of man? It simply grabbed itself and embraced the dark pools of its fallen counterparts. A range of emotions washing across its face before settling on a mournful expression. “I am the end result.”

The battle was fierce and savage. Nature itself seemed to scream as all it had to give was being used to clash with in a way, itself. Landscapes changed, wildlife ran, the battle could be seen for miles. Somehow in all the chaos the heroes managed to calm the final crystal; gaining a slight edge that slowly kept building. Sin had faced many people but none like this. It wasn’t their strength that overwhelmed it, or the eight to one odds. It was there teamwork; the bond allowed them to use each other’s abilities and perform feats like no one had seen at the time. Things that could not be learned alone. In the end, it led to Sin’s demise. A lethal blow dealt by all of them that render Sin unstable and fading, but with a catch.

“Power like mine does not fade. Sin does not fade....it festers” the miasma shot off into seven pieces once more and found its way into all the warriors except for the Ice warrior. Stricken with fear, he watched his closest friends writhe in agony as they desperately tried to hold onto their humanity as temptation at away at their soul. Wrath, Lust, Pride, Gluttony, Sloth, Envy, and Greed. Still connected through their bond, he couldn’t help but feel all the suffering inside of himself. What could he do? Was this really the end? Tears started to well up before a voice called out to him. “It’s okay...” it was the first to join his journey, the wind warrior. More called out to him. “Don’t let this be in vain.” said water

“You know what you must do...” Darkness cried out.

“Trust our bond.” Earth said calmly

“Alone we might not be strong enough.” Lightning said wary.

“Together though, we’ll stand.” Light exhaled exhausted.

“So what are you waiting for?” Fire proclaimed.

All of them gave their leader one final look of relief; satisfied with the end results as they seem more radiant than any crystal. The leader had no words. Only resolve as he took hold of his weapon and stood ready. Their eyes said all that was left to be said. “I can’t believe we did it.” He made it swift, and cut them all down in one slice. The world was finally returned to normal.

Humanity rejoiced. Finally it could once again get on track to growing strong and mighty. Many searched for the brave heroes they had to thank for this accomplishment but only found their weapons; each taken and placed by a crystal in honor of them. As for the ice warrior, he simply vanished. No one could find him. When people eventually reached the ice crystal it had his scythe mysteriously placed there with no clue how. He must’ve been alive somewhere. Legend says the man took ahold of the seven sins and placed them inside himself for the sake of the world, but he did not lose his mind. He simply wandered off. That the bond he had with the team he grew to love was beyond death and kept the sins in check within him. It also said that the man spread knowledge of the abilities his friends cultivated and is why we have them today. Now anyone who dares learn how to wield a scythe do so in the heroess’ honor and belief that unlocking one’s full potential means facing the odds with comrades.

As for the fallen heroes, they are clearly not forgotten. Some people believe their will lives on apart of the crystal and will grant strength to a select few who rise to the challenge of beating the odds.

Phew 😅

That was more tiring than I thought. That was just explaining the world and some extremely important lore but I never actually talked about the main characters, the plot, how powers work on a more conceptual level, or the setting. Maybe I’ll make a second one of these if you all really, and I mean really want more. Looking back at this I have realized something staggering. Aspects from this story have bled over into my many AU’s. I’m talking down to the idea of mental headspace and two very specific characters that I know realize somewhat live through Yujin and Tenzen; fighting wise anyways. (Personality too for Yujin which is nuts and I don’t know how to handle that. They are even blonde.)

#razor rambles #my oc’s #breakthrough #ask me stuff #fanfiction #i told you all this ran deep and im crazy

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cutesuki--bakugou · 4 years

Text

Ancient Soul

Time Travel, Quirkless, Feudal Japan AU

“Your soul does not belong here.” Those were words you never thought that you would hear. Now, thrown into the past in feudal Japan, you must find a way to survive, all while struggling to avoid the growing feelings for one hot-headed war general. War, romance, death and love drive you forward, to find the place where your soul truly belongs.

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Want to start from be beginning? Check the Ancient Soul tag. New chapters released every Wednesday as long as schedule permits.

Genre: Romance / Angst Story Rating: Explicit | Adult Themes, Sex, Death, Depictions of Violence, Alcohol

Chapter 15: Recovery

Chapter Rating: Teen | Cursing, Making Out, Sexual Intimate Situation Words: 3432

One would expect to feel rested after a week of being unconscious, but when your mind was finally able to find a grasp on life, you immediately wished that you were dead. Already, you were suffering through the worst migraine imaginable, and your entire body was aching. It felt like there were millions of little needles in your skin, pricking you with fire over and over. What was worse, you were still feeling an unrelenting thirst, your throat so dry that you couldn’t even find the ability to swallow. The pain of attempting the mundane action was nearly unbearable, your entire body wincing in reaction as you gasped out in a choked yelp.

“She’s awake!”

“Tsu-Chan, help me with the water, please!”

“[L/N], don’t move so much!”

The familiar voices tugged at your heart, instantly bringing an intense burning to your eyes. Wanting to see someone, anyone that was important to you, you opened your eyes against the blinding light, only able to see shapes at first. Then, a familiar figure, the blonde hair and crimson gaze first coming into focus before the worried expression. From what you could tell, he was sitting beside you, but nearly everything else was lost.

“Ka… Kats…”

“Don’t try to talk, dumbass.” Looking up, Bakugou turned his attention to two other blurry figures beside you, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t pull your eyes off him, your mind racing between disbelief and longing. Was he really here? Had he been the one to save you? Needing to feel something physical to confirm that this wasn’t all a dream, you reached out with a trembling hand, clutching onto his arm and digging your tired fingers into the fabric. Not only did he allow it, he let your hand slide down into his, clutching it with his strong yet tender grip that you adored.

“Katsuki…” Somehow, tears began to stream down your face, flooded with happiness and relief that he was here. You had thought that you would never see him again, and yet, here he was. He had come for you, risked his life to save you. Everything you had been mad at him for, everything that you had argued about was completely erased from your mind, and all you wanted was to be with him.

Frown crossing his lips, Bakugou removed a rag from your forehead, dipping it into a bowl of water beside him. “I said shut up, don’t talk. Here--” He gave a gesture with his head, nodding towards the other two figures you hadn’t even bothered to look at. Not letting go of his hand, you turned your attention to them, finding two women looking down at you. Tsuyu was one of them, holding a wooden jug. The other was a woman you had seen very little of, her brown bobbed hair hanging down a bit as she leaned over you, working to prop your head up with extra pillows. You knew that her name was Ochaco and that she worked in the infirmary, and by her presence, you assumed that’s where you were.

“Here, [L/N]. Have some water, slowly.”

Taking a cup from Tsuyu, Ochaco held it to your lips, allowing you to slip from it. The cool water both soothed and burned your sore throat, but you didn’t dare stop, not until the cup was taken away from you. “Not too much, you may not be able to keep it down.”

After taking a moment to rest and catch your breath, you glanced back and forth between those that sat around you. There was a mix of relief and worry on their expressions, but as Bakugou placed the newly damp rag onto your forehead, you found the strength to question them. “What happened?”

“Do you not remember?” Tsuyu asked softly, filling the cup back up with water. With a small shake of your head, you used your free hand to wipe your eyes.

“No, no I remember that I was taken but… How did I get here?”

“We were able to figure out who took you quickly,” a small smile on her face, Tsuyu helped you to drink again. “When the time was right, we set fire to the building and took you back. I’m sorry it took us so long…”

Taking a moment to catch your breath after drinking, you couldn’t resist the small smile on your lips. “Don’t apologize… Thank you for helping me.” Turning your gaze to Bakugou, you noticed that his ears were flushed bright red and his brow was still furrowed with concern, which was made doubly obvious by his firm grip on your hand. “Did… you…?”

“I pulled you out of the fire, yes.” Bakugou finished for you, the redness of his ears spreading to his cheeks ever so slightly. “You stupid woman… So reckless.”

Feeling your heart flutter, that familiar bubbly feeling filled your empty stomach, only making the smile on your lips grow. “Thank you, Katsuki. I… I’m sorry for fighting with you--”

“Seriously?” Bakugou cut you off, scowling down at you with that embarrassed huff. “Don’t start with those apologies. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You gave a small nod, tearing your gaze from him to instead look up at the two women. “Am I in the infirmary?”

“Yes,” Ochaco spoke with a nod, adjusting your blankets. “You’ve been in and out of consciousness for a week with a fever. I was worried you weren’t going to pull out of it, but it seems like you’re stronger than we thought. Your wounds have mostly begun to heal… I want you to stay here a while longer, though, to completely recover.”

And so you did, for another week you were subjected to lazy days of sleep and recovery. Bandages were changed and medicine was taken, even though half the time the medicine made you feel worse. What was the hardest to heal, however, was the mental scars that the experience had left on you. Already, you were struggling with nightmares and jumping at any little creak or bump. Strangers that came into the infirmary made you incredibly nervous, and you even found it difficult to trust those who you had deemed your friends.

Someone had to have leaked information about your skills to the enemies, and until you could find out who, distancing yourself may be the best option. For now, Tsuyu and Bakugou were the only two who you found you could still talk openly with, and their occasional company kept your mind at ease.

Eventually, when Ochaco deemed you healthy, you were allowed to leave. A hot bath, a warm dinner and the comfort of your own room made everything that happened seem like just a nightmare, and with the help of jasmine incense and the knowledge that there were guards at your door, you slept without a single disturbance.

The morning was different, however. Almost immediately, you were summoned by a servant to come to Bakugou’s private quarters, which was a place you had never been. The servant allowed you to dress and prep yourself before leading you quite a ways through the palace, and though you knew you shouldn’t, you tried your best to memorize the path. You didn’t know what to expect from Bakugou so early in the morning, and you couldn’t help but be curious if he had some type of romantic intentions. A silly thing to imagine, you knew that, but your love-stricken heart couldn’t help it.

When you finally reached the entry doors, the servant slid them open for you, bowing deeply to allow you in. Nerves silencing you, the first few steps into the entryway were as silent as you could make them, eyes darting back and forth across the massive room. Much to your surprise, it wasn’t like what you had expected at all. It was neat and tidy, with weapons and armor as decorations in a very organized fashion. There was even art hanging from the walls, depicting battles in brilliant black and colored ink.

Being sure to leave your sandals at the entrance, you timidly made your way out into the open room, only stopping when you noticed him. Sitting by himself on the floor next to a low table, Bakugou had his back to you, though you could see by his posture that he was agitated. You could even hear soft grumbling as he mumbled to himself, though it was impossible for you to make it out. Still, you found it cute, smiling softly as you tried to ignore the burning in your cheeks.

“Katsuki?”

“Eh?” Looking over his shoulder, Bakugou glowered at you for a moment before he calmed, as if he thought you had been a different person at first. “Oh, Demon. I didn’t hear you. Come.” Turning back forward, he gave a vague gesture to the empty spot to his left. While he wasn’t looking, you fixed your clothing into place and made your way over to the spot, sitting down on your legs properly.

Now, you could see what he had been focusing on. You had grown familiar with what their official reports looked like, and seeing it just made your purpose there immediately obvious. He had to tell Lord Yagi what had happened, and to do that, he needed a full description from you. The sake bottle and cups that were set out at least gave you a little comfort to know that it wasn’t all that formal, but it still disappointed you a bit. You had hoped that maybe he just wanted to chat with you, to check up on you and--

“How are you?”

His question caught you off guard, almost expecting that he would get straight to business. Instead, he looked at you with a curious gaze, comfortable and seemingly actually interested in your wellbeing. You knew that he had been, as he had come to visit you at least once every day that you were awake in the infirmary. Swallowing your bashfulness, you gave a small shrug, trying to relax. “Ah, you know… I’m feeling a lot better, now. And I didn’t have any bad dreams last night.”

“Good. I’m glad you’re better.” Bakugou took a moment to pour you both a drink. “But I have something we have to deal with, and it can’t wait a second longer.”

“A report…?” You took the small cup as it was handed to you, looking down at the clear liquid. Through your reflection, you could still see the bruises on your cheeks that were yellowed and healing and the remnants of some cuts. They hurt your self-confidence, but you did your best to ignore them, knowing that soon they would be nothing but bad memories.

“Yes. My Lord wants one immediately. We need to know exactly what happened and what they wanted. He’s worried you gave them useful information...”

“I… Okay.” You couldn’t help your reluctance to avoid the conversation. You wanted to forget about it, to move on and hopefully repair the relationship that had been damaged by your arguments with him. Even though it was necessary, and you knew that you had to tell him eventually, it wasn’t the very first thing you wanted to do. Some casual conversation and maybe a shared apology would have been ideal, but once again, you weren’t sure why you had expected such a thing out of him.

“Is that a problem?” The annoyance in his voice and raised eyebrow told you that he had already picked up on your reluctance. Should you just go along with what he wanted, or should you fight it? Up to this point, you had been nothing but an obedient woman, doting to every command and word he had said, but you didn’t want to be like that anymore. No, you couldn’t be like that anymore. After being almost killed, you realized that it just wasn’t worth it to be treated like a tool all the time.

You wanted to be treated like a person, to have your feelings and troubles recognized for once.

Setting down the still full sake cup without taking a single sip, you placed your hands firmly in your lap, clutching onto the fabric that covered your thighs as you kept your stern gazed locked with him. “Yes. It is a problem. I didn’t expect to have to immediately talk about this stuff and be interrogated right out of recovery.”

“You’re lucky I was able to wait until you did recover. My Lord wanted a report the instant you were awake, but I pushed it back to give you time. It will only be a few minutes, I don’t see the problem-”

“The problem is that I don’t want to be treated like a tool anymore! I just feel like your lawnmower that got stolen, and now that you’ve gotten me back, you just want to use me all over again!”

“Lawnmower--? Damn it, can’t you just get that shit out of your head?! I don’t think you’re a tool!”

“That’s all I’ve been since I’ve gotten here, a thing for you to use for your own gain. The sense of security I had, of comfort and friendship, it’s nothing but bullshit to keep me around! I know that now, after all this shit I’ve gone though, and even still none of you trust me to keep my mouth shut.” Standing, you flattened out the clothing around your legs, struggling to keep your frustrated tears at bay. “I was beaten and starved for you people because I wouldn’t give any information to them! I almost died protecting you and your secrets, but I bet that no one will believe me!”

Before you could walk away, Bakugou stood up in your path. At first, you thought he was going to grab your arms, but he kept his hands to himself. “No, you have everything all wrong! Just let me talk to you!”

“I don’t want to talk, Katsuki!” Tears not streaming down your face, you tried to get around him, but he didn’t let you. “Just let me go!”

“Do you think that I would have risked my life and my men to come save you if I didn’t care about you?! I’ve already told you before, your visions or whatever the fuck they are just help me with my strategies, you don’t do everything for me! I was just fine before you, and I’d be fine without you!”

“That doesn’t prove anything! You could be lying to me, to just try and keep me totally fucking fixated on you so I don’t try to leave!”

“It’s not a lie! If I say I care about you, then I care about you!”

“Then prove it to me!”

At first, you thought that saying that was a huge mistake. You thought that he would just continue with his jumbled thoughts, to try and get you to listen to him with words. But it was obvious at that point that you had forgotten what everyone had told you up to this point. Bakugou wasn’t one to use words to express himself, nor was he good at it. It was actions that he preferred, and although you should have expected it, his actions still shocked you.

Pulling your body against his, Bakugou placed one strong hand on your hip while the other held the back of your neck, pressing his eager lips against yours. You had always thought that, if this exact moment ever occurred, you would be frozen in place, unable to react or decide if you should return the affection. Any reluctance you had imagined would come into play here was nowhere to be seen. Instead, your own wanting for him exploded like a firework, sending hot sparks pricking over every inch of your skin.

How quickly you gave into him had you immediately short of breath, but you didn’t dare allow this to stop. Your arms slipped around his neck, pressing yourself into him as he caressed you even closer. He was much more passionate than you expected, his kiss hot and rough as he invaded your willing mouth. It was everything you had ever wanted, and yet, you found yourself wanting more as you pushed yourself up on your toes to be as close to him as you could.

The hot taste of sake on his tongue and the heat of his hands on your body filled you with a burning fire, making your skin so hot that the feeling of the cold wall suddenly at your back made you squeak in shock. Smirking against your lips with a deep chuckle, Bakugou scooped you up into his arms, forcing your kimono up to your hips as your legs wrapped around his waist. “Damn, irresistible and fucking cute.”

One hand clutching onto his shoulder tightly, you slipped the other teasingly around his neck, massaging with your fingers that trailed up into his hair. You felt a sharp tingle through your body as he gave a soft groan into the kiss, spurred on by your nails against his scalp. He was so eager, everything about him so intoxicating that you couldn’t find it in yourself to stop this.

Wait… Should I stop this?

The further his hand slid up your bare thigh, the more you began to wonder if this was really okay. Did you want this? You could answer that question with a strong ‘yes’, not a single doubt in your mind that you wanted him. Every inch of your body was aching for him, the heat between your legs and tingling of your skin enough proof. But if you wanted it didn’t really matter.

Sex does not mean love. At least, not in your world, and you knew that it was the same here. And yet, he had finally made a move that was definitive for how he felt about you, that there truly was more there than just wanting to use you for war. Anyone would have thought that this was enough proof that he cared about you, but in what way? Was it true adoration or was it just lust? Going from zero to a hundred in intimacy scale was always a dead giveaway that it was nothing but lust, or at least that is how you saw things in your world.

Was this actually different?

“K-Katsuki, wait--” Getting ahold of what little wits you had left, you put your hands onto his chest, pushing back with just a bit of pressure. “--I can’t.”

Stopping just as you had commanded, Bakugou stared down at you in confusion, his brow furrowing in a way you had never seen before. It was that sinking feeling of rejection, that sudden punch in the gut that you didn’t want him. “You... can’t?”

Feeling your entire face heat up with embarrassment and shame, you dug your fingers into his clothes, finding it impossible to even look him in the face anymore. “I don’t… I just can’t do that with you.”

“But you told me--”

“Sex doesn’t mean that you care about me, Katsuki.” Finally, you forced yourself to look up at him, though you immediately wished that you hadn’t. You saw many things on that flawless face that made your heart feel as if it were made of stone.

Rejection. Confusion. Frustration. Contemplation.

It was obvious that he just didn’t know what to do or say, and if you were honest, neither did you. Apologizing wouldn’t mean anything, and there wasn’t a point in trying to explain your reasoning behind stopping him. Instead, you both stayed quiet, just the shuffling of clothes filling the air as he placed you back down on your feet. The feeling around you had become heavy and awkward, finding yourself trying to be as casual as possible as you fixed your kimono back into place.

With a small cough to clear his throat, Bakugou took a few steps back before leaving you completely, sitting back down at the table in front of his report. As you stood there and watched silently, he grabbed your still full sake cup and took the shot that had originally been for you. “Forget the report for now. I’ll just include what you’ve already told me and let my Lord know that you had kept silent.”

“Katsuki, I’m--”

“You’re what?”

His snap instantly silenced you, as did the blank glare he turned in your direction. He didn’t want you to apologize or explain yourself. It was obvious that all he wanted was for you to leave.

So, you did.

#bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #bakugou x reader #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #fanfiction #bnha writing blog #xreader #personal #ancient soul

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matthewgraygubelier · 5 years

Text

What Girlfriends Do

A/N: Here’s something I wrote that I’m actually really pleased with!! It’s pretty simple and just really fluffy, but I tried to step outside of my comfort zone with it. please comment and let me know what you think!! Happy reading <3

Summary: Girlfriends were a very new territory to Spencer, but he never realized how much was actually missing out on.

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Mentions of bruises and cuts, Mentions of general violence

Spencer stomped up the stairs to the floor of his apartment, his aching feet thudding heavily, causing the floorboards under him to creak more than usual. He shuffled to his front door, shoving his key in the lock and pushing the door open. He rubbed his eyes and yawned while closing the door, turning the lock back. He threw his keys and satchel onto the bookshelf next to the door. He fumbled over into the small kitchen rubbing his fingers into his eyes before grabbing a clean glass from the dishwasher and pouring a glass of water. He chugged it before filling the glass back up to the top. He was beat, literally. The unsub in the team’s most recent case was a 300 pound, 6 foot 6 mass of muscle, and he briefly got his hands on Spencer, giving him a black eye and busted lip. It was a wonder he didn’t break his eye socket or jaw.

“Spencer?” A voice chimed from another part of the house.

At first the voice frightened Spencer; it shot out of the quiet like a cannon fire, then he remembered.

(Y/N).

It was still a very strange thing to him. Coming home to someone.

It was strange to come home to a loving, kind smile. It was strange to come home to open arms filled with warmth. It was strange to come home to someone who made him feel like his best self, someone who banished and erased all of the bad things he saw during the day. She reminded Spencer of all of the good things in the world. She reminded him that after a long day of chasing monsters, there were still things to be thankful for, things to enjoy, and things to be excited about. He loved her with his whole heart, and he never, ever wanted her to not be there when he got home.

It still surprised him how much the sound of her voice calling out to him affected him. It shook him to his core. His whole demeanor changed. He suddenly felt a spring return to his step. He raised his head, a great big smile growing on his face. All at once, the pain of his facial injuries seemed to completely dissipate. At just the idea of holding her in his arms, his body warmed, like it was melting.

His heart leapt in his chest. He turned on his heels and practically ran into the dimly lit living room. He could see her silhouette etched into the couch cushions.

“(Y/N).” He spoke, his voice quiet and filled with awe.

Pure relief washed over him as she hopped from the corner of couch where she had been curled up with a book. He took long strides, bounding over the space between them in a matter of nanoseconds. He swept her up into his arms, lifting her and twirling around. He let her feet touch the ground again before pulling her into his chest. He enveloped his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head. He touched one hand to the back of her head, smoothing her hair down her back. With his other hand, he rubbed the entire length of her back. (Y/N) giggled lightly, returning the favor. She looped her arms around his waist, happily nuzzling her face in his chest. Holding her close to him, never wanting to let her go.

They stood like that for a moment, just very simply embracing each other, breathing each other in. Becoming one.

“Oh, (Y/N)…” He whispered, not even realizing he was speaking. He squeezed her tight, feeling her breath against his neck. He did not want to let go.

(Y/N) pulled away first, shifting too look at him.

“Oh, Dear, Spencer…” She said, as she examined his bruised face. She lifted her hands to his face, her fingertips ghosting over his lip and his eye. Concern colored her face.

He just laughed and looked away from her scrutinizing gaze. “Honestly, I can’t even feel it.” He said, trying to reassure her that he was all right. He looked down at her, totally amazed that she was his. His hands touched her shoulders as he drew his fingers up her arms. He squeezed her hands on his face.

“Nonsense.” She replied before pulling away. Spencer pouted, he wanted to keep holding her.

She disappeared briefly into the bathroom, coming out with a black bottle and cotton balls. She ran over to the freezer, sliding to a halt in her socks and returning with an ice pack.

“Come with me.” She instructed. She took his hand and lead him to the leather couch. He did as he was told, watching her with confusion as she plopped down into the corner of the couch, curling her legs under her. She gently pulled Spencer down onto the couch, patting the tops of her thighs, inviting him to lay his head on them.

Still confused, he twisted his body hesitantly, leaning back into her lap, his body stiff.

“Relax, Doc.” She laughed, her voice sweet and light. He smiled and blushed at her nickname for him. He wasn’t known for having many nicknames, and his heart flew when she addressed him as such.

He laid his head down on her thighs, the heat from her legs sending light chills from the back of his head to his toes. It was a comforting thing, and while he didn’t understand why he was laying like this, like a child, he enjoyed it.

He looked up at her. Looked at her bright eyes. The way he felt looking into them was unimaginable, otherworldly even. Without thinking, he reached up and touched her cheek. This caught her by surprise.

“You’re terribly beautiful.” He whispered, entranced by her beauty. He traced the shape of her cheeks with his fingers, following her nose and down to her lips.

She blushed but didn’t speak. She gathered the supplies she’d snatched from various parts of the house.

“What do you need cotton balls, hydrogen peroxide, and an ice pack for?” He asked, quizzically. He watched her as she screwed the cap off of the peroxide and poured a bit on a cotton ball.

“I’m going to tend to your injuries.” She answered. She dabbed the soaked cotton ball on his busted lip, making him wince and moan.

“Sorry.” She whispered as she dabbed his cut. “I should have mentioned it would sting.” He sighed, letting the stinging peroxide seep into his cut.

“Why?” He asked, again his voice curious. “An EMT did that earlier.” He closed his eyes, turning his head toward her stomach, his nose brushing against her.

“Because that’s what girlfriends do, silly.” She answered. “Close your eyes.” She instructed before laying the cold pack on his swollen eyelid. The cold was soothing.

This sounded like a strange reasoning to Spencer. Was that really something girlfriends did?

He figured he couldn’t really argue her logic, considering Spencer hadn’t ever really had a girlfriend.

They continued to lay there for a while. He was very still and kept his eyes closed. (Y/N) continued to clean up his face, using one hand to hold the ice pack on his eyelid and the other to pet his wild curls.

Secretly, Spencer loved when (Y/N) touched his hair. Whenever they were just laying together like this, she would run her fingers through his hair, gently working out any knots that got in her way. She would pause and massage his scalp, scratching his whole head and behind his ear.

He loved it greatly, but he couldn’t exactly figure out why.

He knew that it had to do with the release of dopamine in the brain, but it felt like so much more than that.

He also thought it was kind of strange that he could love something so simple so much.

“I love when you play with my hair.” He blurted, his sudden confession causing his cheeks to turn a light pink.

(Y/N) simply giggled, deepening her hold on his curls. “I know you do.” She answered.

Spencer opened one eye and looked up at her.

“How could you know that?” He asked, suspicion lining his voice.

“It’s easy to tell, Doc.” She whispered. “Your whole body changes. I can feel your muscles relaxing and your breathing steady. You almost always close your eyes, too, and they stay closed. Sometimes I watch goosebumps rise on your arms.” She leaned down to kiss his forehead.

Spencer blushed furiously. He didn’t even notice these changes in his own body, and the fact that (Y/N) noticed was down right embarrassing.

She laughed at him and gave him another forehead kiss.

“Why do you play with my hair?” He wondered, closing his eyes again, embracing the feeling of her touch on his scalp.

“Because it’s what girlfriends do.” She answered.

Spencer smiled. There was her funny reasoning again.

They stayed there for a while more. Spencer felt so nice. He was so at ease. He turned to face her, wrapping his arms around himself and scrunching his legs up under him. (Y/N) continued to run her hands through his soft curls. He was so comfortable and warm that he began to fall asleep. He felt his eyelids droop and become heavy, until they slipped past his eyes and he dozed off.

“Spencer? C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

Her voice woke him from his light sleep, along with her elbow nudging his ribs. He looked up to her, murmuring incoherently. “Sleep?”

“Yes, Doc, sleep.” She nudged him again gently, lifting his shoulders and standing up. She held out her hand to him. He stood up and followed her to their bedroom.

He shuffled behind her, his eyes still closed. He let her lead him to his side of the bed, where she pulled the blankets back for him. She helped him get into bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin. She crawled across him to her side of the bed, where she held his shoulders and pulled him into her, inviting him to curl up next to her and bury his face in her neck. He did it gladly, wrapping his arms around her waist and happily nuzzling his nose into the crook of her neck. He took a deep breath, her perfume filing his nose. She laced her fingers in his hair again.

“You don’t have to coddle me, you know?” He murmured so quietly, despite the complete and utter bliss he was in.

“Yes, I do.” She chimed, kissing the top of his head.

“Why?” He replied.

“Guess.”

“Because that’s what girlfriends do?” He looked up to her, barely able to keep his eyes open.

“That’s right.” She said before kissing his forehead.

Spencer began to realize how heavily he was missing out on this whole girlfriend thing before.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #emily prentiss #derek morgan #penelope garcia #david rossi #aaron hotchner #jeniffer jereau

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mushroomminded · 5 years

Text

Bend Until You Break (Part 1)

Written by @fundeadasylum, illustrated by myself.

Warning for heavy violence, torture, and generally a bad time.

“Mr. and Mrs. Sumney…you do realize what you’re consenting to by signing these forms, right? You understand that you will be under binding contract to never speak of what occurs in this facility to outsiders. You understand that we cannot be liable for any permanent damage done to the subject in question. And you understand that you are forfeiting the subject’s rights to deny treatment of any kind and that attending physicians can and will use force where necessary.”

The woman on the other side of the heavy oak desk raised her eyebrows at the couple perched on matching chairs across from her. They had been holding hands the entire time she had been explaining the contract to them, though the manner in which they did so seemed to be for show rather than out of any kind of intimacy.

“We understand,” Mrs. Sumney said softly, the barest of quivers in her voice, “Please, we just want our son back…we just want our boy…”

The woman in the lab coat nodded and closed the file that was thick with paper and legal documents, stowing it carefully in the filing cabinet behind her. Then she rose to her feet, straightening her coat and holding out her hand to the couple,

“The Facility for the Exegesis of Abnormal Realities thanks you for your compliance in these matters. We will do everything we can to help your son.”

———

Milo was trying very hard not to completely lose himself to the gnawing panic in his gut.

He was curled up in the only mildly uncomfortable chair of the room the nurses had herded him into, his legs drawn up to his chest, his face in his knees, and his fingers curled tightly into the stiff fabric of the hospital pajamas they’d forced on him. He felt cold and naked, too exposed without his shark hoodie. No one would tell him what was going on, no one would speak to him, and his throat hurt from shouting for help, for Cody, for his dads, for anyone.

The room they’d locked him in—definitely locked, he’d tried the door a dozen times—was sparsely furnished and sterile white like a hospital room. The bright overhead lights pushed away any shadows he might have been able to hide in and the dark, one-way window gave him a constant sensation of being watched. There was a cot against one wall with a thin blanket and a flat pillow, the chair he was currently in, and a low table. All the furniture was bolted to the floor, the door was weighted and heavy like a hydraulic press, and the only source of air flow were two, inch thin slits on opposite walls, far away from any of the furniture. The only other features were a boxy shape flush against the wall beside the door and the cameras under little black domes so Milo couldn’t see where they were pointing.

The room made him feel sick. It brought to mind a bunch of awful sci-fi movies he’d used to watch with Cody, aliens with their guts exposed and hooked up to millions of computers. That’s probably what they were going to do to him. Cut him open until they could figure out how to put him back together the “right way”.

The door to the room opened with a groaning hiss and Milo jumped, pressing himself against the back of the chair as if he could sink through it and escape. A no-nonsense looking women sharp eyes and rectangular glasses, strode in, her lab coat fluttering around her legs. She was followed by four men in nurses scrubs and Milo shrank back even more.

“Milo Sumney, you are now under the custody of the Facility for the Exegesis of Abnormal Realities, the Testing Center of Cryptozoology, Parapsychology, and Occultology. I am Dr. Orchid Pearce and—“

“I wanna talk to my dads.” Milo blurted out, the fear evident in the tone of his voice, “Where are they? I want to see them! I wanna see my dads!”

“Mr. and Mrs. Sumney have left you in my care,” Dr. Pearce said in a cool manner, “Now as I was saying—“

“Not those people!” Milo cut her off again, his frustration overpowering his fear, heat burning in his chest and giving power to his voice as he began shouting, “My real dads! The ones you all took me away from! Where are my dads!? Where’re Dan and Jake!? I want to go home!”

Dr. Pearce waited for him to stop shouting before she spoke again, “Daniel Fuller and Jacob Pierly are forbidden from contact of any form. A restraining order is currently being processed against them and lawyers are discussing pressing charges of kidnapping and endangerment through supernatural means. Now,” She pressed onward, talking over Milo as he sputtered helplessly at the acquisitions, “As I said, I am Dr. Pearce and I am going to be your primary physician. You have been entered into a rehabilitation program the goal of which is to either reverse the effects of the cursed object or to erase from your memory the years spent under the supposed care of Mr. Fuller and Mr. Pierly so you may adjust to your life with Mr. and Mrs. Sumney.

“Your birth parents have given their verbal and written consent for the staff here to do whatever it takes to fix you. From now until the moment you step foot outside this facility, completely rehabilitated, you are forfeit any and all human rights. You are now the property of the United States government under the Supernatural Objectification Act until otherwise released. You are to comply with any and all staff members unless explicitly ordered differently. Force will be used if necessary.”

“You can’t do this…” Milo whimpered. His blood was icy slush in his veins as the doctor continued speaking in the same, cold, indifferent tone.

“A change of clothes will be provided to you each morning or as needed. Meals will be provided three times a day and will be taken here in your room. You will be allowed one bathroom break in the morning, one in the evening, and at least one throughout the day as needed. You will shower every other day or as needed. You will be under escorted guard everywhere. The Facility is not liable for any permanent harm or damage that occurs during our rehabilitation program.” Her hard gaze drilled into Milo, lips pursed as she observed him, “Do you understand?”

Milo swallowed, his dry throat clicking, his hands shaking, “You—you can’t…do this. You can’t! I—I’m just a kid! You can’t just lock me up and—“

“Actually, according to the government, you are classified paranormal entity and have no rights within our jurisdiction.” Dr. Pearce cut him off, her eyes narrowing at the hopeless fear on Milo’s face, “For all intents and purposes, Milo Sumney, you are an object of the state. A specimen. Your rehabilitation begins now. Come with us, please.” And she turned to leave.

“No.”

The word slammed into the room like a heavy rock, puncturing the air with its stubborn ferocity. Dr. Pearce stopped and half turned to face the teenager clinging stubbornly to the chair with white-knuckled hands. He was scowling, eyes red-rimmed with the threat of tears, a ghost of a quiver in his lower lip, looking for all the world like a toddler about to throw a tantrum. But he met the doctor’s gaze with a fierce glare that burned in his eyes.

“Very well,” Dr. Pearce said in a way that said she had anticipated this sort of behavior, “Gentlemen, if you please.”

Milo’s stubborn expression instantly gave way to one of terror as the four nurses converged on him. He screamed and kicked out at them but one of them grabbed his ankle and pulled, dragging him halfway off the chair before he grabbed onto it, hang on for dear life. His free foot—bare and sockless—slammed into his captor’s knuckles and he was released. Milo dove for the nearest opening between one of the men and the wall. The nurse didn’t hesitate and jumped him, pinning him to the wall with a burly arm across his chest, his other hand pushing Milo’s face into the cold wall so the teen’s snapping teeth couldn’t get near him. Milo thrashed, kicking out and catching the guy in the thighs, the chest, his nails scraping at the exposed flesh of the man’s arms, but the man merely grunted at the pain and pressed down until Milo swore he felt his ribs creak in protest.

Working with frightening efficiency, the men forced his arms into itchy sleeves with straps and buckles, pulling the excess around behind his back so he was hugging himself. Realizing what was happening, Milo screamed louder and bucked in their grip, thrashing, trying to get away even as the thick leather restraints were tightened, pinning his arms to his chest. A choked noise escaped his throat, his eyes burning, a cold and desperate sensation burning him from the inside out because this couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. This didn’t happen. This didn’t happen to real people. It was a nightmare and all he had to do was wake up.

Milo screwed his eyes shut, chest heaving, willing himself awake, begging for this nightmare to vanish.

But rough hands pulled him away from the wall and set him on his feet, keeping tight grips on his upper arms as they steered him out of the room and it was either walk or get dragged. He stumbled along with them, glaring with a terrified ferocity through his disheveled bangs as they passed doors and one-way mirrors and branching corridors. It was a short and brisk march that Dr. Pearce led them on and they soon arrived in a small room that was empty except for a table and a stool. Milo didn’t get a good look at what was on the table (he thought he saw something metallic and it made his heart seize) before the nurses forced him onto the low stool, looping straps from the legs of the stool around his ankles and cinching them tight. He glared at Dr. Pearce who was sifting through the sheaf of papers on her clipboard before withdrawing a photograph and holding it out to one of the nurses,

“Mr. and Mrs. Sumney requested his appearance to be altered as his current look is…unfit for their family name. If possible, please refrain from harming the subject.”

“What? What’re you doing?” Milo stared at the doctor and then whipped his head around to gape at the nurses, “What’re you doing to me!? Hey! Hey, leggo! Ow! You’re hurting me! Stop!” One of the men snagged the piercing in his ear and he tried to pull away only for it to tug painfully at the cartilage, “Don’t touch me you bastards! Let go!”

“Language.” Dr. Pearce said with her usual cold patience, “We’ll have to work on that.” She checked something on her clipboard as a nurse pinned Milo’s face against his hip with one hand, the other carefully unpinning the metal band from his ear. Milo whimpered as the piercing was tugged away, his ear feeling strangely light without it.

With a bruising grip, his head was pushed down so his chin was tucked into his chest. He wriggled against the uncomfortable position, back bowed, spine straining and arms going numb where they were trapped against his chest.

“Hold still.” One of the men ordered and Milo stilled as he felt his long red hair being wound up into a pony tail. His heart was pounding, mind racing as he tried to figure out what they were doing and—

Metal sliding smoothly against metal. A familiar snick-snack of sound. A tug on his hair.

“No!” He tried to pull away but the scissors sliced through his hair smooth as a hot knife through butter and Milo cried out, voice breaking into a sob. Why did it hurt so much? Why did he feel so…so violated just because they’d cut his hair? There was a buzzing sound that lightninged through his thoughts and Milo panicked, lurching on the stool to try and see what was going on. But they grabbed a fistful of his bangs and yanked, pulling his head back down to expose the curve of his neck.

He let out another hoarse sob as he felt the electric razor drag across the back of his skull, shoring what little hair he had left even shorter. He squeezed his eyes shut and cried, shuddering at the feel of the razor, at the cold ruthlessness with which the nurses handled him. He didn’t even struggle when they straightened him up and began trimming his bangs, cutting them out of his face as ugly tears streaked over his freckles.

When they were done and were cleaning up, Milo chanced a shaky glance in Dr. Pearce’s direction. She was watching him with that same, unreadably cold expression. He hiccuped softly and dropped his gaze to his knees.

He felt like his world was ending, one unraveling strand at a time.

———

“I thought we’d start with the basics,” Dr. Pearce was saying, her legs crossed as she tapped the end of a pen against her clipboard, “Gaining an understanding of the connection you share with the cursed object is essential if we are to attempt reversing it. We’ll begin with exposure tests and move on from there. Roland, are we all set up? How are the levels?”

Milo watched with seething hatred as the doctor rose from her chair to consult with her fellow white coats. He paced around the small glass chamber they had him in, arms crossed over his chest and a tight scowl on his face. The mesh flooring bit into the soles of his feet as he stalked the perimeter of the room. He hadn’t slept the previous night, simply laying in the dark after they’d turned off the overhead lights, leaving him to alternate between panic and despair in the dark. He’d barely touched the food they gave him that morning, picking at the toast and leaving most of it on the table in the room. He was tired and afraid and more than anything he wanted to run into the arms of his dads and never leave them.

Dr. Pearce took her seat at the desk again, looking up at Milo who pressed his face against the glass of the room, blowing out his cheeks and leaving a smear on the spotless surface. The doctor ignored him and gestured to someone behind a bank of computers. Milo glared as the doctor pressed a series of buttons. A hydraulic hiss came from beneath Milo’s feet and he looked down in time to see water bubbling up from the mesh flooring.

“What’re you doing?” He pressed his hands against the glass walls as the cold water washed over his feet, “Hey! Hey, what’re you doing!? What’re you doing!? Let me out! Hey!” Milo splashed backwards, spinning around as the water rose to his shins, soaking into the hospital pajamas, “Oh g-god, what are you doing? I’m in here—there’s water—what the hell are you doing!?” He stumbled back up to the wall of glass, desperately crying out to the doctor’s on the other side, scrabbling at the walls, his breathing picking up as his panic climbed with the height of the water.

“Let me out!” Milo screamed, banging his fists desperately on the glass, kicking and splashing, chest heaving, tears welling up in his eyes, “Please! What’re you—this isn’t—please! Let me out! I want to go home! Stop! Please! Please…!”

Dr. Pearce watched without a hint of emotion as the teenager tilted his head up, gasping as the top of the water lapped his chin, his feet kicking to keep himself afloat. His fingers squeaked against the glass, a desperate last attempt to escape before the water closed over his head.

———

They didn’t let him drown.

Of course they didn’t. He was an asset, an object to repaired and returned to the owners. They wouldn’t let him drown. They revived him and kept him monitored for weeks after that before they resumed testing. According to Dr. Pearce, they wanted to see if the resemblance his hoodie had to a shark had given Milo any aquatic attributes.

When Milo had spat past the oxygen mask that they could have just asked him instead of almost killing him, the good doctor made it abundantly clear that she would not trust him to tell the truth about much of anything. Science, she said, would give them all the answers they needed.

Milo sincerely doubted that.

They continued conducting test after test, putting him through the wringer but always allowing him time to recover. How strong was his connection to the cursed object? Was it affecting his basic functions to be without it? Would damage to the fabric of the object be reflected on his own body? Were there lingering magical side effects on him somewhere?

“Blood is a strong component in magic,” Dr. Pearce was saying one day as the nurses pinned Milo down to the examination table and yanked up the back of his shirt. His skin prickled against the cold, sterile air of the lab and he sent a sour glare at anyone he could make eye contact with.

“In fact, blood magic is so powerful that many supernatural races have banned it from use,” The doctor continued, walking slowly around the table as she watched the proceedings, “But what most people seem to forget is that magic has a tendency to cling to the bones of a subject. Blood dries up, but bones can remain for hundreds of years.” Milo struggled, glaring at her as she passed his line of site, hissing when he felt the cold swab of a numbing agent against his lower back, “It’s essential to your rehabilitation that we discover just how deep this curse runs and if there are still traces of it in your body. To that end,” She titled her head to one side a little, to get a better view of what the nurses were up to,

“This may pinch a bit.”

Milo felt the thick needle slide into his skin at the base of his spine, going deeper, deeper, deepest. And he screamed.

———

Testing was put on hold when Milo broke his arm trying to stop the slot in his wall from closing. It was normally flush against the wall, sealed so tight he couldn’t get his fingernails in it. But when they delivered him food or a change of clothes, it hissed open, deposited its gifts, and withdrew.

Milo tried to stick his arm in the thing, hauling back on it to try and keep it open so he could climb in and escape. The pressure snapped his forearm—radius and ulna—in several places. Dr. Pearce had tutted at him in an exasperated manner when they’d rushed him to the medical wing. Through the tears in his eyes, Milo could see her standing in the corner of the room, out of the way, keeping notes on that stupid clipboard like she always did.

But even when he was recovering from a broken arm, they wouldn’t leave him alone.

They were constantly scanning his arm, measuring the healing progress, comparing it to the average time it took for a teenager his age to heal broken bones. His reactions were tested on and off pain medication, he was fed placebos until the pain grew too much for him to take and left him weeping on the floor, and they observed his struggles to feed and dress himself with a non-dominant hand. It was frustrating and humiliating and sometimes the only way Milo could get to sleep at night was if he cried until he was too exhausted to keep his eyes open.

And when the cast finally came off, when his arm had fully healed, it was right back to the regularly scheduled testing. It was a grind. And it was starting to do a really good job of wearing him down.

———

Milo had bandages around his head from a test he didn’t remember.

Later, when the bandages came off, he noticed a patch of his hair had been shaved off and there was a raw, scabby circle of irritated flesh.

He didn’t want to think about what had made that mark.

———

“Milo Sumney, please rise from your bed so we may begin testing.”

“No thanks.”

“It was not an offer, Milo. Get off of your bed or we will be forced to make you.”

“Okay.”

Dr. Pearce sighed impatiently and Milo heard the nurses cross the room. They hauled him up under his arms and set him on the floor. He swayed on his feet, looking at the polished white tiles of his room, vacant and tired. Dr. Pearce’s shadow approached him across the floor, practical flats barely making any noise as she drew near,

“Now, Milo, as of today we’ve—“

Milo threw himself at her with all the ferocity of a rabid animal.

He snarled, screaming, baring his teeth and lashing out at her with his bare hands. Dr. Pearce stumbled backwards and Milo collided with her, sending them both crashing to the floor. Her clipboard pressed into his chest, the plastic edge digging into his throat as he snapped his teeth at her, hands scratching at her lab coat, at her shirt, towards her face if he could reach. A nurse snatched at his shoulder but quick as a flash, Milo whipped around and bit the man’s hand, hard. The nurse pulled away with a shout of pain while other voices were barking orders.

But Milo’s fury only had eyes for Dr. Pearce. His mouth tasted like ash and copper, his breathing erratic and rapid, his heart straining against his rib cage as it pounded in his chest. His entire body was numb and electrified all at once, lightning burning through his veins until it sizzled against his nerve endings and burned him from the inside out. All the rage, all the despair, all the loneliness, and hurt, and hated was pouring out of him in that moment. He hadn’t stopped screaming. His hands hadn’t stopped reaching for the doctor’s throat.

The nurses grabbed his ankles and dragged him backwards off of Dr. Pearce. He shrieked in rage, hands still clawing at her, nails leaving jagged runs in her nylons as he thrashed about. Once they’d hauled him away from the doctor, the nurses pounced on him in earnest. They wrenched his arms behind his back, hauling him to his feet even as he tried to kick out at them. One of them closed a hand around his neck, pinching his jaw closed so that he was seething spittle and blood through gritted teeth. Angry tears were smeared down his face as he watched another nurse help Dr. Pearce to her feet. Once she’d straightened herself out, she looked at him with a frosty sort of anger and it clashed against the hot fire in his belly.

“I think we will need to alter the security measures when it comes to Milo Sumney,” She said, never breaking eye contact with him even as his lip curled to show his teeth in an animalistic snarl,

“A muzzle seems like an appropriate place to start.”

———

The silicone of the mask was pressed against his mouth and under his chin, wrapping all the way around to the back of his neck. The thick straps were tight where they connected behind his head, the one that hooked over his nose and arched over the top of his head almost obscuring his vision.

Five nurses had to hold him still while a sixth and seventh fastened the muzzle on him. They hadn’t been gentle about it and Milo had bruises on his body for weeks afterwards. The only pleasure he derived from the whole ordeal was that the dumb bastards had to take it off of him at least three or four times a day and he made sure it took up a good chunk of their time, making himself as big of a nuisance as possible.

Until they started leaving the mask on at night to save themselves some trouble.

———

Milo yanked against the restraints pinning him to the examination table, twisting his head back and forth and snapping at anyone who came to close.

“Open your mouth!” One of the nurses pressed a palm into his neck, fingers pinching into his cheeks, and he hissed, “Open your mouth, now!” When he continued to refuse, she plugged his nose.

Milo tried to pull away but the hand on his neck held him firm. His legs and arms jerked, making the buckles jingle in a mockingly pleasant manner. His chest was burning, tears welling in his eyes. Maybe he could just hold his breath until he died and escape this hellhole and—

Another nurse put unexpected pressure on his diaphragm, forcing him to expel the air in his lungs with a strangled gasp. Instantly, a wooden palette was wedged into his mouth, pinning his tongue down. He let out a strangled scream, eyes darting around the cluster of figures nearly blocking out the overhead lights. Blue latex hands approached with a vial of minty green liquid and Milo bucked, struggling to free himself.

The vial was jammed down his throat, making him gag, retching at the sour taste of whatever they were pouring into him. It was either swallow it or drown. He felt it burning down his sternum and coughed, shivering and gagging as the nurses stepped back.

“Wh—what did you…what did you give me?” His voice sounded hoarse and small in his own ears.

“Drug trial.” Pearce said simply, “Mark the time. Trial one of twenty.”

———

“No, no, please, I don’t—please don’t make me do this. Please.”

“Eat it or we will force feed it to you.”

“No, god, please, don’t—I don’t want to. I don’t want to! Get it away from me, I don’t want it!”

“Okay, get the tube, he’s not taking it.”

“N-no, wait, no not the tube, please! No! No I don’t want—no! I SAID NO! STOP IT! STOP! STO—GHK!”

“Feeding tube in place. Administering chum mixture.”

———

Milo was slouched against the wall underneath the one-way mirror when they came to get him. His head was bowed, eyes ringed in an ugly bruise color from tears and exhaustion, a rattling wheeze puffing out from behind the muzzle. His hair was plastered to his forehead, a consistent tremor shivering through his thin frame. When the shadows of the nurses fell across him, he looked up at them with glossy, unfocused eyes.

“Looks like death warmed over.” One of them muttered, snapping a latex glove over one hand. He crouched down and put the back of his gloved hand against Milo’s forehead, “Damn. Might want to get the thermometer to double check but I’m pretty sure he’s running a temp.” The man looked up as Dr. Pearce approached, “What’s the verdict, doc?”

Pearce met Milo’s blurry gaze, her brow only slightly furrowed, as if this was merely a puddle on the sidewalk she had to step around to reach her goal. Milo dazedly searched her expression for some kind of sympathy, found none, and let his head loll back down, eyes sliding closed once more.

“Interesting,” Dr. Pearce said more to herself than anyone, “The host isn’t protected against external or internal attack. It appears that the relationship between the subject and the cursed object is almost entirely one-sided.” She turned away, marching briskly towards the door, “Bring him to medical. Get him cleaned up and quarantined. As soon as he’s healthy again, we’ll move onto reconditioning. I doubt we’ll get much more from testing.”

When the nurses picked him up off the floor, Milo was hit with a dizzying sense of vertigo that made the entire room spin. They had to hastily yank the muzzle off of his face so he didn’t suffocate on his own vomit.

#bend until you break #art tag #fics #mico #milo #bummers

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realityhelixcreates · 5 years

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Lasabrjotr Chapter 2: Lure of Sleep

Chapters: 2/?Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: Illness, Alcohol Mention Relationships: Loki x Reader Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), OFC, Heimdall (Marvel), Brunnhilde/Valkyrie (Marvel) Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending, New Asgard, Stark is Stubborn, Loki is Impatient, The Power of Dreams

Summary: Loki tries to keep his head on straight as a mysterious illness creeps up on him.

Loki awoke in a feverish haze. That dream again. Again! For the past six months it had filled his sleeping hours, more and more often. It came every night now, and robbed him of rest. It wasn’t an unpleasant dream exactly, but it was accompanied by growing weakness. He was sickly now, and people were starting to notice.

Especially his brother, who shot him a concerned look when he stumbled into their hastily set up council chambers, sheen of sweat shining in the electric lights.

He took his usual seat at Thor’s side, determined to be present, even though his head was swimming. Luckily the meeting was mostly discussion of delays of the next shipment of building supplies, due to their makeshift Bifrost’s continued inaccuracy issues. The thing worked, but just barely. It could only be used a few times a day, and tended to drop things anywhere from thirty to two hundred yards from their intended target. With the large, natural fen just north of the construction grounds; that inaccuracy was a potential problem. They’d already lost some supplies to the mire, they really couldn’t afford anymore.

The government of Iceland, and its people had been blessedly welcoming of their refugee nation; however, there was only so much aid they could give. The people of Asgard survived as they could, offering their knowledge and skills in exchange for the odd paper currency of this world. It was slow going; an entire year and they’d only gotten a few buildings up and finished. The creation of the makeshift Bifrost had been cause for celebration, but it simply was not effective enough. Their engineers were working on it every second that they weren’t needed elsewhere, but the old one had been completed eons ago, and none who worked on it still lived. The younger generations knew how it was supposed to work; they’d just never had the experience of actually building one.

The discussion turned to lists of necessary supplies, price lists and available funds. Loki drifted in and out, his mind sliding between the mystery of his dreams, and the thing that lingered on his hand. He still didn’t know what to make of it. Certainly, it was magical in nature, but he had no idea from where it sprang. That woman from the tower…of course it came from you, but the whys and hows eluded him. He had been assured firmly that it was not intentional, and once security arrived, there were no more chances to ask. You were whisked away, and he had been ‘encouraged’ to return home.

Yet half a year later, and he still remembered the face of a woman he’d spent less than a minute with. You were in his dream.

The meeting ended without him noticing, the people shuffling out of the room and back to their work. He had work to do today. He had work…

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

“Brother, are you…ill?” Thor asked, expression full of concern. Loki looked up into his face, reading it as confusion.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He said. “We don’t fall ill. I simply didn’t get enough rest.”

Thor sat back down next to him. “You’ve been having this problem for some time now. Something has to be done. We need you, Loki, and you’re not here. Is it the dreams?”

“What do you know of-“ He began.

“You mentioned it some months ago.” Thor interrupted. “A recurring dream you were having, but you gave no details. So you’re still having them? Dreams mean things to people like us. Tell me, perhaps we can come up with a solution.”

He didn’t want to. Dreams were private things, and this one might be construed as a little embarrassing. But galling as it was, Thor was correct. Something had to be done. He was wasting slowly away, and it had to stop. He didn’t have to give every little detail, after all.

“Do you remember, some months ago, the incident in the tower?”

“With that girl? Did you ever figure out what happened?”

Loki shook his head. “If we still had our libraries, perhaps I could find something. But I have not been able to locate another single such incident happening in the history of this realm. It was magic, but other than that, I do not yet know what that was. But I see her in my dream. She is… in danger. “

It wasn’t a clear danger, just a nebulous darkness that tried to drag you in. In the way of dreams though, he knew it was dangerous, and so, he would reach out to you…

“I save her from it, but it follows her. I keep her close and safe.”

The darkness s could not be dispersed, not by magic or force. It wanted to devour you. He’d once let it do so, and he’d been drained so badly when he awoke, he hadn’t been able to rise from his bed for hours. That was when he realized that the dream was connected to his health, somehow. After that, he made sure to always save you, and even began to enjoy it a little. Playing hero to a helpless little thing made him feel powerful, and the way you pressed against him in appreciation and fear, as if he were the only thing in all the realms strong enough to protect you, gave a welcome stroke to his confidence. He didn’t really want the dreams to stop. They were self -indulgent and somewhat pleasant, but if they were indeed related to his declining health, he had to put an end to them.

But in the dream, you had…

“She has a mark on her hand. Like mine.”

“Didn’t that heal?” Thor asked.

Loki rolled his eyes and held out his right hand. The illusion he held over it dissipated, revealing an odd, rectangular shape, and a collection of circles with pitchfork finials on each line, all burned into his palm.

“I didn’t want any awkward questions.” He explained. “And it hasn’t flared up again since that day in the tower. But it did not heal either, and I have found out what it is, if not why it’s here. It’s called galdrastafur. A little spell about locks. Midgardian attempts at our magic. Nowhere near as effective, of course.”

“Effective enough, if you can’t make it heal. Do you think she still bears this mark as well?”

Loki shrugged. “In the dreams she does, but in life? Who knows? Nothing has happened since then, except for those dreams. Which have been making me ill, in the way of a human…damn. I’ve been too burned out to make the connection.”

“Do you think these marks may be connecting you? Do you think you are sick, because she is?”

“If I am ill because of this, she may very well be dying.” He stood. “If she dies, we never find out what this is, or what caused it.” If you died, there might be no more pleasant dreams.

His brother stood with him. “If she dies, who knows what might happen to you? So. We find her?”

“We find her.”

“Very well. Though, I thought you didn’t care much for humanity.” Thor teased.

“I don’t. But we live on their land now. And besides, my reputation is fragile. If this woman dies, and it is pinned on me, her entire belligerent country may decide to take it out on us.”

Thor nodded. “I will speak with Stark on the morrow.” Noticing his brother’s sour expression, he added, “He owns the tower, and his security will at least help us narrow down who we are looking for.”

“I know what she looks like.” Loki protested.

“But not where she lives, or what her name is, nor anything else about her, save some nebulous feeling of danger. Stark may be able to provide us all of those things. Now you…” He steered Loki towards the door. “You are to take what I believe is referred to as a ‘sick day’. Get something to eat, have a bath, and most importantly, rest. Rest as much as you can.”

Loki went along with it with only a cursory protest; a testament to how out of sorts he really felt.

The kitchen was always open, and stocked with simple, easy to eat staples. With so many workers and sentries about at all times of the day, it was a necessity. Loki grabbed a small bunch of grapes out of the fruit bowl, and headed back to his rooms, eating them along the way.

He knocked on the door to the guard room, just inside his suite and informed the live-in guard-a young man from a prominent Asgardian family-that he was retiring early. The young man took up his post instantly. He was decent at his job, even if he wasn’t strictly necessary.

Once the grapes were gone, he decided a bath really did sound very nice. He started the water running and grabbed a book to read while he waited.

There had been a lot of debate on how to go about building their nation. Thor hadn’t really wanted to burden the people any further with providing excess luxury just for himself and Loki. He’d gotten used to living in cramped quarters and dressing like a peasant in his time on Midgard.

Loki however, knew that it was important to put on a good show, not only of power, but of capability. Midgard could be an exceptionally savage place, and people who were perceived as having less, were all too often perceived as being less. There were nations here who would love nothing more than to use them until they were empty, take everything that they were, erase their claim to their own selves, and then discard them like so much garbage. There were more who would hold every Asgardian man, woman, and child responsible for the things he had done, and wish to punish them in his place. They had to show their greatness from the first step. For their own protection.

So there would be no golden palace. That was fine. But no one would say that Asgard was lesser. No one would be allowed to take advantage. Asgardian ingenuity, capability, and power would be shown to the world. They would be envied. They would be emulated. They would be coveted. But they would never be up for grabs. In the end, he and Thor had compromised.

This was why Loki got to have his large, sunken bath, but had to fill it himself. There weren’t really any royal servants anymore. Truthfully, neither brother really needed them. There were maids, and cooks, and sentries, and janitors of course, but aside from a few guards, there was nobody specifically to attend just to them. In their short years away from home, they’d both grown much more self-sufficient.

How much could happen in just a few years. It seemed no more than a blink of an eye, and suddenly everything was different. Loki set his book aside, discarded his clothing, turned off the water, and slid into the bath. The water felt delightful, easing the ache of muscles that were sore for no real reason.

Why was that happening? What was causing it, this strange and detrimental connection to you in dreams, through this mark? He raised his right hand out of the water and examined the mark once more. It hadn’t lit up since that meeting in the tower, but nothing he did made it fade. It couldn’t really have been you that caused it, no mortal could possess magic so strong that he could not undo it. That meant it had to have been him. Somehow. It was always him. The how and why still eluded him.

Loki sunk down to the neck in hot water. There was planning to do now. They had to find you, first of all. Bring you here to study what had happened. Erase it if they could. Find a way to deal with it, if they could not. He very much doubted that he would die from this thing, even if you did, but it would still likely be very uncomfortable, and not the desirable outcome. You would need a place to stay, certain basic amenities. It might be a few days, or it might be the rest of your natural lifespan. Either way, it wouldn’t be all that long from his perspective.

He stayed until the water began to chill, then drained it, toweled off, grabbed his book again, and headed to bed. He read until his eyes grew heavy, and the book threatened to slip from his hands. Heeding Thor’s advice for once, he allowed himself to drift away.

*****

The void pulled harder than ever, threatening to yank you out of his arms, but he planted his feet and held on. He was a god, he would not lose to a formless blob of darkness! But as he clung to you, defying the nothingness that loomed over you both, the pull only increased the shadow unmoved by either godly pride or mortal fear. It stole his footing, sent you both crashing to the ground. He kept his grip on you, but he no longer had traction; the terrible pull towed you both toward the void. It swallowed your legs before he got back to his feet and tore you free. The darkness did not seem to care that it had been denied; it was not some stalking, thinking enemy. It simply existed. An inexorable danger that loomed, without wanting or needing anything, just being. It would continue being, continue growing in strength, until he either failed, or did something about it.

*****

It was late in the morning when he woke. He had a headache, but he felt a little better than he had yesterday. Getting out of bed and dressed was still tiring, but not so much of a struggle. Breakfast was actually lunch; half a sandwich, and a hearty soup to ward of the chill. Not that he needed protection from the cold, but it still tasted good.

When Thor found him, he was attempting to catch up on some of the paperwork he had neglected the day before. One look at his brothers dour expression told Loki he was about to hear bad news.

“Your meeting with Stark did not go in your favor.” Loki said flatly.

“He refused to give me any information about the woman.” Thor growled. “Oh, he knows who she is, but he won’t tell me anything.”

“Did you really expect otherwise?” Loki asked. “He is never very cooperative when I am involved.”

“I thought he might be, for the safety of his countrymen, but I can also see his point of view. We don’t really have much information to give him, just that some woman we don’t know is in some kind of danger, and you are somehow tied up in it. Naturally he wants to check it out for himself.” Thor sighed. “I don’t like it, but I understand it. Would I do any different?”

“The difference here being that Stark is not a king, and has no responsibility to the people around him, save what he decides for himself. Nor does he have any real authority over them.” Nor me, he thought.

“I left Brunnhilde with him, to plead my case.” Thor said, and Loki choked over a barked laugh. “Stark bends more easily to strong women.” Thor explained.

“Oh yes, and the fact that she will drink through all his alcohol so quickly that he will soon be doing whatever it takes to convince her to leave has nothing to do with it?” Loki asked. The last Valkyrie was not a diplomat, but she certainly did have some political usefulness.

“I can’t imagine what you mean.” Thor said, the ghost of a smile sweeping across his face. “I’ve merely put Stark in a position to reconsider cooperation. In any case, we will hopefully have the information we need in a few days. Now, I’ve got to go meet with an environmental specialist, regarding the fens. I think they’re afraid we’re going to destroy them. Do not neglect your rest.” With that, Thor left, and Loki set his paperwork aside.

This wouldn’t do. After last night’s dream, Loki had grown certain the there was no time left. Not for formalities, and certainly not for waiting for a stubborn Stark to come around. He left his paperwork with an aide, and headed back to his rooms to retrieve his cellphone.

Most of them had one now, though few of them had taken up the habit of carrying them everywhere in the way of humans. Thor was still not very good at handling Midgardian tech, but Loki had become somewhat proficient. He sent a quick text to Brunnhilde, and waited.

Can you expidite?

Why? You have a date?

Yes.

I don’t believe you.

All I need is the name and address. Can you do it?

Yeah, yeah. I can probably do better than that, if this guy doesn’t have a fit first. Give me a few.

The Valkyrie was usually as good as her word. Loki grabbed his book, took a seat, and waited. It took an even shorter time than he had anticipated, the information popping up in terse snippets. Full name. Age. Address. Family. Workplace. He typed out a quick thanks as he went over it. It was with some small relief that he saw you were well into the human age of adulthood, but had no family other than a father. That would make your leaving easier. He wouldn’t have the time to convince, or cajole.

He left his rooms, left the limits of New Asgard altogether, and headed straight for the makeshift Bifrost. Heimdall looked him over impassively, taking in the light armor and the horns, and saying nothing.

“It is important to a life, that I go here, right now.” Loki said, showing your workplace address. He thought it was about the time a person in your time zone would be going to work.

Midgard was so very, very large. The largest of the nine realms, by a great margin. So large, that it didn’t all exist at the same time, at least, by human reckoning. Heimdall gazed out over the vast expanse, and twisted his sword in its socket. The narrow beam of light that made up the tiny Bifrost gathered up everything Loki was, and flung it out over the expanse of the ocean and beyond.

#loki x reader #lasabrjotr #loki (marvel)#thor (marvel)#Heimdall (marvel)#valkyrie (marvel)#marvel fanfiction

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adventuresloane · 5 years

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Lup, Raven Queen, Barry, Ango and totally Ren. ;) maybe sloane also! For the HC meme❤️

(for this meme)

Kat this is……SO many oh my lord. I’m gonna put most of theseunder a cut!!! You’re a doll tho thanksfor all the asks.

Lup:

A) What I think realistically: I love the idea that,contrary to popular belief, she’s the younger twin! When they were kids, Taakowould always be the one who had to get her out of the trouble she got herselfinto. Taako’s always been a bit more pragmatic, but Lup just couldn’t standdisrespect towards her or her brother and would always address it. She stood upto people and probably bit off more than she could chew a number of times,meaning Taako had to help her out of a tight spot.

B) What is fucking hilarious to me: Lup at one point had apretty major crisis in her life because she loves to cook for people anddesperately wanted to show her affection for Barry by cooking for him, but.This man has lived off late-night hot pockets out of his laboratory microwavefor years. He doesn’t have a palette. One time she overheard him call ketchupspicy and she just kind of stared at the wall for five minutes. She spent manyan evening slaving over recipe books to try to find SOMETHING decent that thisuncultured man would actually enjoy.

C) What is heart-crushing and awful but fun to inflict onfriends: She’s got…a number of lingering issues after her release from theumbrella. There’s a lot of talk about how she develops claustrophobia, andwhile I think that’s certainly true, I think another thing that leaves hershaken is the utter darkness inside the staff. Before she was able to get herpowers back to create fire, the darkness in there must have been absolute andchilling. Imagine how long she lay there entirely blind and unable to make outanything. I don’t think she can sleep with the lights off anymore. She alwaysat least leaves the hall light on outside the bedroom, but even that’s notenough much of the time, and she often plays with a little fireball in herhands until she can’t keep her eyes open anymore, so that she knows there’sstill light where she is.

D) What would never work with canon but the canon is shit soI believe it anyway: Griffin says that the Legato performance was the firsttime the rest of the IPRE crew realized that Barry and Lup were in love butcome the fuck on. These guys??? They’re so incredibly obvious and crazy foreach other. Even if they didn’t tell their family explicitly EVERYONE knew forYEARS.

Raven Queen

A) Every raven in Faerun is at her beck and call. The birdshave a bit of magic to them inherently and find it easy to slip from plane toplane. She’ll dispatch them to carry messages or keep an eye on things for herand report back. She VERY rarely comes to the mortal planes, but you can alwaystell when she’s on her way. Thousands of ravens circle together tightly in thesky, their iridescent wings shining, and from the almost blinding andotherworldly shimmer a portal forms through which she comes.

B) Has motherly instincts towards Kravitz but no concept ofwhat being a parent to a former mortal actually entails. At what age does onestop picking up mortal children? 35? Her idea of mother-son bonding is enactinga blood oath. She’s trying her best.

C) Kravitz became her “ward” of sorts when he begged andprayed to her for months on end to spare his sick mother and take his lifeinstead—he made a brave trade and she respected him for it, hence his positionas a reaper.

D) She grants Magnus a “limited” amount of extra time livinghappily with Julia in the afterlife but honestly do you think she’ll ever makethem stop living in that little cabin? Heck, do you really think she’s going tokeep their friends from leaving the sea of souls to visit them whenever???She’s willing to turn a blind eye to their little party for the rest ofeternity.

Barry

A) He is just……so visibly huggable tbh. You look at him andyou’re like, “That’s a man who’d be good to just hug for a little while. Chubbysoft belly. Just a teddy bear of a man.

B) The boy is a classic academic research scientist, whichis to say a damn mess. He’ll periodically crop his hair short but then won’tbother to get it cut again for months on end because he’s too busy, so it growsout all wild and looks a mess. He has one (1) mug he keeps on his desk and likenever washes because it’s always filled with coffee anyway. Shows up to work ina stained T-shirt because it’s not like anyone’s paying attention to him whenhe’s locked up in his lab all day anyway. Grody science man.

C) Next to Taako, he’s the one who takes the longest toforgive Lucretia, and I sort of think he never completely gets over what shedid. Unlike everyone else in the IPRE crew, he was deliberately isolated fromthe rest of his family AND HE WAS AWARE OF IT. That’s fucked up, and he learnedto hate Lucretia for awhile, and that’s not the kind of thing that can beerased as soon as Story & Song is over. He can barely look her in the eyefor awhile.

D) He does NOT have a mullet do not to my boy dirty likethis.

Angus

A) All this debate over Magnus or Taako or Lucretia orwhoever the fuck adopts Angus post-S&S? Screw that noise. It’s not like anyof the adult figures in his life AREN’T walking disasters as individuals—it’sonly together that they’re sort of capable of functioning. That’s why he haslike twenty parents and splits his time between like five different houses,inside each of which he has his own room and where he is welcome at all hoursof the day and night. That kid is living the dream.

B) Absolutely drops f-bombs on purpose knowing that it willscandalize the adults he talks to. This boy is a delight and has never doneanything wrong but he is NOT the innocent little one everyone thinks! Sneakyboy!

C) Gotta be honest, I don’t have the heart to actuallyimagine Angus having any suffering inflicted upon him, BUT I do like the ideaof Taako being lowkey terrified every time he goes off on his own/tries toconduct an investigation that has a chance of being dangerous. He tries not toshow it and definitely plays it cool when Angus comes back safe every time, buthe’s got so very few people he feels really connected to and he doesn’t want tolose one of them (again).

D) Controversial, but he remains a shrimpy nerdboy foreverand does not get to be buffer than Magnus sorry.

Ren

A) Hot take: she’s a soft butch. My evidence? I know a bunchof butches named Ren and also she just gives off those Lesbian Vibes. Butch Ren2k19.

B) She is…small. Just so short, even by the standards ofelves, which are on average smaller than humans. It might be partly because she’sa Drow, since I personally headcanon that they don’t grow quite as big, buteven then she’s just. A little creacher. She has to use a spoon to knock downthings from shelves that everyone else in the tavern can easily reach. Cassidyjokingly uses her head as an armrest.

C) Her family is definitely still around and definitely wereoutside of Refuge when the barrier was created around the town and they justhad no way whatsoever of contacting her. They aged while time didn’t touch her.

D) This is more in opposition to D&D lore than to theTAZ canon, but I personally don’t like to think that Ren ever faced anyprejudice for being a dark elf. The whole idea of the Drow being cursed and 99%of them being evil is, imo, very tired (not to mention racist), so I just don’twant that being a part of her story. I think maybe Underdark elves have a bitof a reputation in the surface realms for being kind of staid and dour, so inthat way Ren defies some conventions by being her bubbly self. But aside fromthat, she never had an issue with anyone thinking less of her or hating her forbeing a Drow.

And fuck it, I know I did Sloane already but I have gothbirb headcanons coming out of my ass so I’ll do her again.

A) Tbh I like to think that her alias is something she put alot of thought into and something she identifies really strongly with. Like,ravens are obviously just objectively cool and fit the goth aesthetic she’sgoing for, but also I think growing up in Goldcliff (which I picture as beingjust like the American Southwest) she had a lot of experience observing themand felt kind of a kinship with them (and probably fed them to get them tofollow her around tbh). In some folklore, ravens are considered shapeshifterson account of how the sun reflects off their wings and makes them look likethey’re changing shape. I think that by assuming the persona of the Raven, shebecomes something more than what she appears to be, and it’s a bit of escapismfor her. (Also, ravens are known to be family-oriented and mate for life sothat proves fitting later on…)

B) It kinda breaks my heart whenever people draw her (orhalf-elves in general) with shorter/smaller ears than full-blooded elves,because in my head hers are long and twitchy! She’s pretty good at hiding howshe feels and not giving away too much with her body language, so her ears don’tnecessarily move around a ton to express how she’s feeling, but they doinvoluntarily react to sound, e.g. perking up when she hears a sudden noise.Hurley finds this adorable and exploits it to no end—like snapping her fingersnext to one of Sloane’s ears and then the other to make them pique alternatelyuntil Sloane finally gets fed up.

C) This is kind of more of a headcanon for half-elves ingeneral, but I remember seeing a post awhile back that said something along thelines of “D&D cryptid: a half-elf with a good relationship with theirfamily.” It was funny, but it did get me thinking: what’s a good narrativejustification for this? One of the answers, I think, is that half-elves grow ata rate that must be completely bewildering for their elven parents. They reachmaturity at around 20, compared to a full-blooded elf becoming an adult ataround 100. There’s probably a lot of potential for friction there as elvenparents are unable to handle or understand their kids as they mature soquickly. Plus, most half-elves don’t outlive their elf parents, and knowing you’remore than likely going to bury your kid one day has got to be hard. I think allof this was sort of the situation for Sloane growing up, and it was the sourceof a lot of the isolation she felt as a child.

D) She has big biker energy and actually prefers motorcyclesto battlewagons and that’s the tea.

LAWD this was a lot. Hope you like them!!!

#i typed this in a word doc initially and it was almost 2000 words fsdkjbvkgbdlj #starlight seeker #ask meme #headcanons #lup #barry bluejeans #angus #ren #raven queen #sloane #blupjeans #taz #taz balance #the adventure zone #my txt

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asahi-no-kagayaki · 5 years

Text

Rainbow 6 OCs

I!!!!! Finally!!!!!! Finished!!!!! My!!!! Rainbow 6 Siege OCs!!!!!!!!!!! I’m really happy how this kinda turned out jifjfi my new babies i love them. I’m gonna have so much fun implementing them in r6s universe lmao i’m gonna post my first (r6) fic about them soon lol

Also i cant draw shit so i made their (casual-look ofc cuz cant find military-chara sheet thing) character design using Picrew (this website is really great btw) so dont blame me if theyre looking too anime-y jdojofjfo

More info about OCs below!!!!

1. Beruang (’Bear’ in Indonesian) Real Name: Lukman Susilo Sanjaya Age: 37 (As of 2019) Organization: Kopassus Position: Attacker Birthplace: Tegal, Central Java, Indonesia Date of Birth: January 12, 1982 Height: 5'10'' (1.79m) Weight: 177lbs (80kg) Armor: Medium Speed: Medium

Appearance: He wears standard Kopassus uniform but his face is covered by black half-mask and shades. In his free time, he usually wears bland t-shirt and sport pants. He’s kinda hairy, has a little bit of stubble and scar under his right eye. (Casual look:)

Personality: Serious 24/7. Difficult to approach since he only gives necessary/short answers if asked. He never seeks company of other people, and sometimes can be oblivious about things not related to his job.

Appears stoic, but it’s not because he doesn't have any feelings. He just doesn't know or can't express his emotion to other people except Jasmine. Lowkey insecure about himself, like thinking he's 'not good enough' and people deserves someone better than him.

It's hard for him to have a close relationship with other people other than Kirana because of his insecurity as well his oblivious and stoic personalities. It's not impossible, just hard and take a lot of work before someone could call Lukman their friend or even boyfriend.

Special Gadget: Bear Knuckles - It's basically a pair of gloves shaped like bear paws, used to further increase the power of Lukman's fist (It should be noted that his punch is already strong before he put on the gloves), allowing him to break any surfaces (except steel, for now at least). Yes, it's technically like Sledge's hammer but it's his fist instead lol. Punching a person without holding back with this will likely put them unconscious or heavily injured.

Unfortunately, it's powered by battery and can only be used a few times before it runs out. It must be charged before he can use it.

Short Biography: As a son of the current Major General of Indonesian's Special Forces Kopassus, Beruang's life was revolved around how to be just like his father. With his incredible strength and agility, coupled with knowledge of various martial arts, a fight without a weapon is what he shines the most. Calm and obedient, Beruang is one of excellent soldier Kopassus had, a War Machine ready to serve under his country.

Psychological Report: Suffers from a condition where he can't express his emotion and low self-esteem where he claimed that he's never good enough. It is believed that harsh training and upbringings from the environment he lived in was the cause of those problems. While he's good at his job, his social skill is very lacking, and he himself appears to be distancing himself with his teammates other than one person.

2. Jasmine Real Name: Kirana Tunggadewi Pitaloka Age: 26 (As of 2019) Organization: Kopassus Position: Defender Birthplace: Malang, East Java, Indonesia Date of Birth: July 18, 1993 Height: 5'5'' (1.65m) Weight: 131 lbs (59kg) Armor: Light Speed: Fast

Appearances: wears standard Kopassus uniform and her face is also covered with black half-mask and shades. In her free time, she usually wears colorful clothes, along with this black-chocker thing she always wear. She has short, neck-length straight short hair. (Casual look:)

Personality:

She has two personas. A facade she used to manipulates others: Kind, supportive, and positive. And then her real self, which so far only Six and Lukman knows: Lazy, vengeful, manipulative, and cold. She loves gossip, and although usually lazy, she will put a lot of effort into works that beneficial/important to her (such as maintaining her face around other operators or learning 'perfect english' before joining Rainbow).

But, Kirana is loyal and helpful towards people she thinks as her friends. If they're in trouble, you bet Kirana will try to cheer them up or maybe even hurt those who hurt her friends. She can be easily stressed, which surfaced as paranoia and mild anxiety. She also has abandonment issues, but no one know about this.

Due to her upbringings and her job as a spy, she would do anything to obtain important information she ordered to. Like for example, if someone ask her for intercourse in exchange of information, she would do it as long that information is very important and worth the deal (if not, she wouldn't do it and if they lied about it, she would kill them on site). She doesn't believe in and sometimes even disgusted with people in romantic relationship (like dating/engaged/married/etc), especially those who is in relationship with their workmates, but she's down for one night stand and such.

(It's not impossible for her to be in romantic relationship, but it is very hard to tie her in it)

Special Gadget: White Petals - Five small gadgets shaped together to look like jasmine flower. There's two set of this, one that function like Kapkan's gadget: Putting it on the side of a doors/windows/any openings and watch as everyone that walk through it get electrocuted. It's strong electric surge could even renders someone unconscious. Unfortunately, people could just jumped over/crawled under the gadgets to avoid it when it activates. But the gadget itself is very small, so it can be difficult to spot.

The second set of White Petals is a gadgets that works kinda like smoke grenade, usually used by Jasmine when she have to run. When thrown, it filled the entire room with a special, thick smokes that not even drone could see through. Unfortunately, it last only for a couple of seconds.

Short Biography: Born and raised in a family where her parents worked as spies, naturally Jasmine herself was shaped to be one. Claimed to be one of the best spy her country ever had, she never failed to complete her mission in obtaining and gathering information. While her firearms skill is lacking compared to other operators, her skill of espionage, her cunning thinking, and her good self-defense skill prove herself to be a spy to be reckoned with.

Psychological Report: Her facade personality seems to be a defense mechanism she put up to make herself appears benign and easy to communicate with, which what she needed for her job so she would be least suspicious. On rare cases someone's grow suspicious of her, she would be stressed which resort to anxiety and paranoia. Regardless, she doesn't have any issues in engaging in large group of individuals and offers genuine help and advice to people she care about.

3. Angel Real Name: Florence Marie Walanda Tambayong Age: 31 (As of 2019) Organization: Indonesian National Armed Forces (Land) Position: Defender Birthplace: North Minahasa, North Sulawesi, Indonesia Date of Birth: April 29, 1988 Height: 5'7'' (1.70m) Weight: 143 lbs (65kg) Armor: Light Speed: Fast

Appearance: Wearing standard Indonesian Army uniform, also wears crucifix-necklace. In her free time, she usually wears long-sleeves black/gray/white/pink shirts with silly designs (like some Indonesian words or random bootleg characters) or sweaters and capri pants. If she's on duty treating operators in the medical facility, she wears lab coat, surgical mask, and white gloves. Also her skin is darker compared to the other two ops. (Casual look:)

Personality: Brutally honest but also cheerful and friendly. She likes to socialize/interact with everyone, joining any kind of 'fun' activities, and laugh the loudest at jokes that’s not even funny. She cares a lot about her teammates' condition, so much to the fact that if she ever see any kind of injury or sickness, she will 'fix' them. She doesn't care if they refuse her treatment, she WILL treat them with or without their permission.

She's very dedicated and focus on her works. Even if she lose her limbs, as long she's still has consciousness and able to move, she will try her damnest to treat injuries and sickness.

Special Gadget: Nightingale - A first aid kit she named after a figure she idolizes. Said kit is filled with numerous vitamins, boosters, bandages, medicines, scissors, needles, etc. It's equipped with every medical stuff you can imagine, people wonders how the hell can all that stuffs are stored in it. The gadget itself isn't very special, but Angel's adrenaline rush make her performs medical operations perfectly whenever she uses this kit on someone, so it's more like a mixture of a very-equipped first aid kit and Angel's excellent determination to save lives, just like Florence Nightingale.

In game, this could heals or revives operators to full-health with additional 30 health points. Unfortunately, it can only be used thrice before it ran out.

Short Biography: Her involvement in medical world began at University of Indonesia where she eventually got her medical degree. After that, she worked as a nurse in a local hospital before she joined Indonesian Red Cross Society and eventually served as medical staff in Indonesian Army. With her excellent comprehension of human anatomy, she vowed to erase sickness and pain from everyone.

Psychological Report: With her optimism and carefree attitude, Angel has no trouble making friends in every place she stay. However, trauma about her failure to nurse injured civilians back to health in 2009 Sumatra Earthquake took a toll in her mental state. This resulted in her strong dedication and commitment in her job, which usually would be a good thing to have but it made her force anyone with injuries or sickness, no matter how small it is, to be nursed by her. She doesn't take no for an answer, in fear of her past experiences. It is best for one to approach her in a healthy condition.

Trivia:

- Jasmine studied in Airlangga University and got bachelor's degree in Psychology, Angel studied in University of Indonesia and got (obviously) medical degree, while Beruang studied in military academy.

- Jasmine speaks Japanese to some extent, like she doesn't know proper grammar for each situation (Japanese has different grammars for any situation, like speaking in workplace or towards elders for example) but she can understand and communicate in it. She studied it all by herself, mostly because she's a weeb.

- As said before, Jasmine is a big weeb. She watches a lot of Japanese dramas or animes, also plays a couple of Japanese's mobile games like Fate/Grand Order and Love Live. This is what she mostly do in her free time.

- All of them like spicy food, although Jasmine likes sweet food a little more. As such, if they're cooking a meal you bet it will be spicy as fuck.

- Beruang loves coffee while Jasmine and Angel loves iced tea. Both Beruang and Jasmine doesn't like alcohol, although Jasmine might drink wine or champagne a little, while Angel is open to trying variety of alcohol drinks.

- Jasmine's hobbies includes cooking and gaming, Beruang's hobbies are reading history or watching documentary films, and Angel's hobbies are treating patients and jogging.

- Regarding their sexuality, Beruang is gay (still in the closet, only Jasmine knows). Jasmine's down to have sex with anyone so she’s more of a pansexual, while Angel is straight but dedicates her life to her work so much she doesn't care about romance or sexual activities.

- As said before in his special gadget entry, Beruang is strong. Literally strong, his fist could destroy wood in a second without him putting his gloves on. Although without his gadget, he can't destroy bricks and such (might leave a dent on it though). If angry (which is thankfully unusual), he can't control his power and might break something he hold at the moment.

- As mentioned in his biography, out of various martial arts' learned, Beruang is great at judo and silat. He would use Judo technique the most in a fight, though.

- Beruang thinks of Jasmine as his little sister, while Jasmine thinks of Beruang as either her best friend or a dad. They have close platonic relationship regardless, although Jasmine had a crush on him a while ago (before she knew he's gay).

- While regarding Angel, Jasmine and her dislike each other. Beruang is neutral with Angel, and Angel regards him as a friend.

- Beruang's favorite animals: German shepherd. Jasmine's favorite animal: any cats. Angel's favorite animals: Parrot.

#rainbow six siege #rainbow six siege oc #r6s oc #siege oc #beruang #jasmine #angel #r6s #everyone in r6 fandom: stop with the tags ho #OK SORRY #also im kinda unoriginal about their special gadget im doijdfojdfoifjof

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ren-akimiya · 6 years

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Stalker Metamorphosis

I walked into my office with a crime investigation folder in my arms. After a long chase, we finally put that psychopath behind bars. However, despite knowing that she can get sentenced for her entire life, or put in an asylum, she didn't resist much. Or maybe not at all. She simply put everything in her hands down on the floor as we pointed guns at her. And those eyes... just staring into the abyss of nothingness. It was rather creepy. I have seen similar eyes on victims of homicide. Shock and extreme trauma cause it most of the time. It felt like... she was a completely different person from what we were expecting. She had a diary with her. I know it is rude for one to read a complete stranger's diary, however, I am really interested in what can be in it. Wacos like her usually write interesting and creepy shit, and I always loved horror as a genre in almost everything. Games, movies, books... let the genre be horror, and I always gave it a try. The chills running down my spine, before a good scare or when an eerie music began to play in the background, brought a sense of euphoria as well. Sometimes an effective jumpscare filled my mind with ecstasy as well however it always felt cheap on the long term. Guilty pleasure what I call it. Maybe I sound creepy, but tell you what, I am a genuine and cool guy. Sometimes a little bit too passive.

I put down the folder on the closer end of the desk and jumped into my chair. The diary was inside my pocket, ever since the arrest so I did not need to take it away from the evidence safe. There is a smaller chance I get discovered this way. Holding back evidences can put me into every kind of trouble however curiosity got the better of me. I guess there is no turning back at this point. My fingers slip under the cover and with a steady motion towards myself, I opened it on the first page. As expected, nothing was on the first page. Why the hell did I even open on it. Turning on the next page revealed what I was looking for. The handwriting was pretty and organized. It was odd from a sort of artist as far as I know. Or maybe I am just generalizing.

Entry 1:

Dear Diary,

I’m happy I’m starting you.

Well, my psychiatrist suggested writing a diary so that I clear up my mind from all the things happened to me. I am not entirely sure though what he was referring to...

He was asking questions about what was the last thing I remember before I fell into a coma. I had a really hard time answering them. Until my CT scan doesn't come back to him I am restricted of using anything electronic since it can worsen the possible damages in my brain. Better safe than sorry I guess. However, he recommended me to write a diary or some sort to clean my head from the cloud that blocks my thoughts and help me remember certain scenes. I have no idea why he wants me to do that. Did I see a wanted criminal or something that bad happened they need to catch someone? I think it is better for me to pull myself out from the case entirely. I don't want any other trouble in my life I already have. Speaking of problems, ever since I got back to my senses I can't shake this odd feeling off of me that someone or something is watching me from behind. I also happen to catch glimpses of it on my horizon but never too close to identify it...

Sound and feels pretty unnerving if you ask me knowing someone is watching me maybe going to do something to me… I just hope nothing happens and I am just imagining things.

Oh well, this all that I wanted to write down for this day. Wow writing my thoughts down to you is pretty fun as well. I might develop a habit out of this. I feel so old school right now...oh well I hope I write down on you soon.

From, Naomi

I put the diary down on the wooden table, under the light of my desk lamp then crossing my fingers in front of my head and resting it. Thoughts rush through every synapse of my brain, piecing together the unnecessary info and the already known facts about the caught girl. No motive or possible explanation in this entry…

Reaching down under the paper again, I turned the page to reveal the next entry in the strange diary

Entry 2:

Dear Diary,

Finally, back at school. I was worried that I would fall behind my studies and fail, after working so hard for getting mom and dad’s approval to get in this college. I cannot let my hopes and dreams shatter just because of this little coma. I know they can’t make huge exceptions like letting me pass all the test. I would not want it either. I would just pull more unnecessary attention on me. I don’t want that…. I don’t want to be noticed anymore...Please just leave me alone...Not anymore...I think I uncovered the secret that lying that certain night’s shadows...

It looks like the entry ends here. The part with the dots appears to be less organized and more like scribbles. The psychology book about handwriting would say that the person who wrote this was in fear. The strokes of the pen suggest that the writer’s hand was shaking while writing. I bit down on my finger, ripping of a small fragment of my skin chewing them into softer dusty matter then swallowed it. A really bad habit of mine. I start doing this thing when I feel excited or I am bored. Few of my colleagues who I am friends with said that I should try dropping this childish habit, since they and science says that removing your skin causes bacteria to invade your body. Are they thinking that I am some kind of idiot? I am fully aware of that fact. I just can’t help it…

Shaking my head, I turn a few more pages only running through the lines with my eyes. Nothing really interesting except this shadow figure that entry 7 describes. I stopped scrolling to put on under my metaphoric magnifying glass.

Entry 7:

The shadow person is getting more and closer with each passing day. This goddamn faceless figure. I think it resembles a huge figure. Mostly humanoid in shape however it keeps on warping and warping sometimes. And not just that but I think I began hallucinating even weirder shit. Sometimes when I turn on a corner, everyone disappears from this city. It becomes abandoned. I roam the empty streets for a while, begging to find someone with me without any luck whatsoever. When I snap back to reality I am usually at the same spot where this hallucination started. Yes, I classify them as hallucination since I see them clearly but no one else does. I never move from my original spot either. What else could it be? Exactly, nothing else, other than a hallucination.

I heard about killings taking place in the city more and more frequently. Coincidentally, my hallucinations became more common and longer. What if...these two things are linked somehow…

The entry ends here. The author noticeably became more frustrated than ever. Organized writing and structure were thrown out of the window at this point. Her fear emitted from her writings, like a sinister miasma choking me. Chills ran down on my spine while reading the entry. This is what I was waiting for. Excitement. From the very moment I first averted my gaze at her broken facial expression and empty emerald green eyes I knew I was in for some exciting events.

My pupils filled most of my eyes, pushing out my iris to the outer rim of the inner ring and every single hair on my arms stood on their edge. I could not wait even a millisecond and turned to the final page. The entry was this:

Entry 13:

Dear Diary,

I was really glad to start you so I could talk about this dark secret with you. Dark secret... sounds pretty cliché if you ask me. I am finally putting together the pieces of the puzzle. The meaning behind this hallucination, the Shadow Being and the genocides occurring across the city. Meaning? What the fuck am I even trying to say. There is no meaning to anything what am I doing. I don’t even know why am I hallucinating. Maybe I am just simply going nuts. These medications that the doctor gave to me have no goddamn use.

I hear him telling things to me. I don’t know what, but I am certain that he is talking to me in a strange language. I can’t even think it is human language… He is getting closer to me. One night I woke up to him staring at me, just a couple inches away from my face but when I blinked, he was gone in an instant. Why am I referring to that thing as a “he”? It is something beyond human knowledge. A malevolent beast that wants nothing else just to take people away and murdering them in unspeakable ways. Or maybe this is just all in my head…

Never mind... Nothing matters anymore. Whatever that thing is, imaginary or real, I am giving myself up to it. I am tired of running…

Thank you, my dear Diary. You were a wonderful companion throughout this journey.

I closed the small journal and put it back on my table. Averting my gaze at the case folder on the very edge of my desk, I pulled it under the yellow light of the desk lamp. The newly gained information fit right into the missing spots of the case’s jigsaw puzzle. Though the case was solved as soon as we caught the poor thing in the forest. She made a shelter there to keep herself from hurting more people. Her final acts are worthy of acknowledgment, as Naomi, however, it will not erase the fact that she killed people.

I let out a long sigh then got back up from the comfortable hold of the leather chair and I left my office with the journal in the pocket of my coat. The rain was pouring from the sky so for the distance between the door of the building and my car, I opened my umbrella. If I am correct, she must be in jail still. I don’t remember the chief talking about transferring her to an asylum or prison. Starting the engine, I drove down in the dim lit road towards the district’s police station. The words from the diary formed images in my head, flashing into my mind like lightning. For some reason, I felt myself more and more agitated with each passing street light as the distance between me and the complicated serial killer lessened. Pain stung into my stomach like a tiny blade and my arms became shaky again. I have not felt like this ever since my first case. Adrenaline rushed through my veins and my heavy feet pushed down on the gas pedal ever so slightly. The engine roared up and the mechanical beast that I was sitting in almost muting the popping sound that the rain gave as each drop landed on the windshield. The adrenaline rush got the better of me until another traffic light put me to a halt by changing to red. It was strange that only the final light gave me a red signal. All other were green or just changed to green like some strange coincidence. And only the final one stopped me, for the better. I would have been sent to the afterlife by the coming truck with a frontal collision. most likely sending my body flying across the windshield or the breaking glass piercing through my skull.

As the light switched to green I took the final turn to the police station. It was technically closed by this time of the day, however, there were always a few officers who were on nightshift to look out for the ones locked up and to answer possible calls. Rushing inside the station from the rain, the officers looked at me dumbfounded.

I asked where can I find the girl that we took in a couple of hours ago. They looked at each other, dumbfounded by my request then one sighed and took me to the cells in the room that opened from the very back of the building. I told him that I would want some alone time with her, to that he widened his gaze then shrugged, leaving the room. I venture forward to the only cell that held someone captive. There she was, sitting by the wall, looking downwards at the floor, or at her feet. Her hair, a brown and semi-short mess. The body was still covered in dirt and her clothes were tattered and torn. When she heard my steps getting louder she raised her head up from between her knees and looked into my eyes. The same soulless eyes I have seen when we caught her. Her huge pupils, trying to focus onto mine, as her emerald iris was only visible on the very outer rim of the central ring. It was like she was in some sort of trance.

Sighing, I pulled the journal out from my pocket and giving it a push, I slid it to her. To this it looked like, life went back into her. Reaching out to it with shaky hands, she lifted it up and held it close to her chest. A gentle smile curved onto my face then took a few steps backward.

“So you have read it. But why?” she asked, in an extremely low tone. It was like she was whispering. My answer was presented to her with a sigh.

“No particular reason. I thought that a psycho’s diary would hold many horrors, waiting to be uncovered. And it looks like I was right.”

She responded with an “Oh,” then looked back down on the floor.

“But why did you bring the diary back to me? It makes no sense…” she said. And that struck me. I had no answer to this question. Possible answers raced through my mind like cars, however, neither of them would have done any good. I was wondering if I would be able to chat with the other one inside her. The so-called Shadow Person, however, it was a fact that bringing her out would only do harm to her. I already broke a few unwritten regulations of mine with bringing the diary back to her. It was time for me to leave, so I left her with the question, hanging unanswered.

On the way back home, in my rear-view mirror, I noticed something. I adjusted it a little bit to gain a better sight on it. Something that I should not be able to see. It looked like a hole anomaly in space, warping and changing into... into a humanoid shape.

#creepypasta #horror #thriller #first person view #psychological #spooky #tie in #short story #crime

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nercomancyandbooks · 7 years

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It all began with the silence as it stretched out its wispy fingers to touch every inch of her being with a cold and soothing caress as if to say It is alright, now. I'm here and I will make it all better. As she moved through the halls of her childhood home with nothing but the echoes of her steps to fill the air, Caroline became extremely aware of the lack of noise. The house was no longer filled with her friends and other well-wishers that wished to offer their condolences, there was no music or television left playing, and the police scanner that she had grown accustomed to hearing since adolescence sat lifeless in its spot on the counter. As if the universe had decided to mute itself in her presence, even the fabric of the intricately folded flag refused to rustle when she carefully placed it within the triangle shaped frame she had been provided. Just leave it to me. The silence whispered to her without words as she picked up one of her mother’s sweaters that had been discarded on the sofa and brought it up to her nose, coaxing all of her restless thoughts to bed while luring her stronger, more resilient inhibitions out of the darkness where they normally resided. She closed her eyes as she inhaled the naturally sweet maple and lavender scent that had always clung to Liz Forbes like an expensive perfume, filing away the memory before welcoming the silence further and her breath caught in her throat. Don't fret, it breathed as it curled around her nerve endings and became entangled with her veins, It is going to be okay. “I said I was fine, Elena,” she said in a smooth, controlled voice that sounded so odd in comparison to the noiselessness that filled her. “I don't believe you.” After taking a deep breath, Caroline turned to face the brunette that filled her doorway. “All day something’s been bugging me,” Elena continued, not waiting for a welcome. “You wanted to pack this all in so quickly like you had somewhere that you needed to be. I mean, you were so concerned with getting through today without a hint of how you'd feel tomorrow and then I realized… you don't want to feel tomorrow. That's the plan, right? You're not going to feel tomorrow. Because you're going to turn it all off.” “I thought that I could get through the rough patch and then just pick myself up after like I usually do.” The blonde shook her head, heavy eyelashes blinking rapidly in an attempt to keep the moisture in her eyes at bay. “But then Damon made me realize that it's just going to get worse.” “You’re listening to Damon?” Elena asked, her timbre moving with her obvious confusion. “Well, I can't do worse, Elena, okay? I didn't even think there was a worse. It's better this way.” “Better? Care, you're talking about flipping the humanity switch. There is nothing ‘better’ about that.” “That is your experience,” she snapped, “okay, I have more control over my vampire self than you ever did. My experience will be different.” “It's not going to be different, Care, it's going to be deadly. You saw what happened to me when I did it.” “Yeah, that's my point, Elena! You did it. You couldn't handle the pain when your brother died so you turned it off. Damon died so you erased all of your memories. Stefan moved to Savannah and became an auto mechanic. What? Do you think you guys are the only ones who get to escape grief?” “You just mentioned two of the biggest mistakes that I ever made.” “Were they mistakes?” Caroline asked, “because when you came out on the other end, the worst part of your pain was gone. And that's what I need. I just need the pain to be gone.” I can do that, spoke the silence once more. “My mom is dead, Elena. And I… it hurts so bad I can't breathe. I can't do worse. I can't. Okay? I shouldn't have to.” “You shouldn't. It's not fair. You shouldn't have to.” Elena spoke as she pulled her into a hug, one of her hands moving to cradle the back of Caroline's head as if she were a small child that was in need of a warm embrace. “Please listen to me.” As Elena continued to talk, the chill within her bones began to give way to a numbing sensation as her hot tears and flushed skin were slowly being kissed by internal snow flurries that chilled her to the bone and covered her anxieties under ice and snow. Aren't I a nice change? It had silently sighed as it dimmed the lights inside of her until it seemed as if she were in a state of midnight, Don't I make you feel better? It was only after the last of her inner light had been hidden away and the scene was truly set that the monster made its appearance within her. It didn't act as she had always imagined.There were no dripping fangs or black eyes, no trail of bodies and destruction left in its wake. It was only a girl - a monster of a girl, but a girl nonetheless - whose shoulders didn't share the same weight, whose eyes weren't clouded by tears, and whose heart wasn't as utterly broken as her own. Why don't you let me fix it all for you? The monster had said in her own, coaxing voice. You need time to heal. Let me make this right. “I'm not gonna let you do this,” Elena was saying, unaware of the pieces that were clicking into place beneath Caroline’s skin until the blonde's hand gripped at her neck and gave it a sharp yank to the side. Turn it off and I will make everything go away. “That’s not your choice to make,” Caroline and her monster said in unison, speaking through the same pair of lips, as she stared down at the limp body of her friend that now decorated her living room floor. ~ ~ ~ Caroline had bared witness to quite a lot of oddities in her short life. In fact, she had been up-front and center to more than a few things that no one should ever see: as a body shriveled up at the end of a wooden stake; as a man that she had known her entire life transformed into a giant wolf before her very eyes; the blood of her friends dripping from the fanged mouth of a monster. Even still, she felt an intriguing and dangerous sort of allure as she moved through the city of New Orleans under the veil of night with the evidence of her latest meal coating her lower lip. Everything around her buzzed as if the city itself was bursting with energy, eager to welcome her into it's latest tryst. She could practically feel it seeping from the streets, up through the solid heels of her boots, and settling into her bones. Before, Caroline had never given much thought to the illustrious city unless Mardi Gras, Popeye’s, or Hurricane Katrina were being mentioned but now, being completely immersed in the colors, sounds, and smells, she didn’t know how she’d stayed away for so long. It called to her - beckoned her deeper into the Quarter with the enticing curl of a lovers finger - and the darkness inside of her was all too eager to accept the challenge that was laid out before her on a silver platter. Her golden blonde locks floated about her head as a large gust of wind tunneled through the narrow street, causing her to reach up and hold tight to the thin scarf around her neck. It wasn’t anything close to the bitter, bone chilling winter cold that she’d grown up with in Virginia, but it was enough to send a chill throughout her small frame that only the warmth of another - whether it be with blood or body - could cure. As she walked further, the multi colored buildings and bars lined with neon lights were slowly meshed with rustic rot-iron gates and older style formations until they were replaced all together, statues of weeping angels and columned architecture of the older structures taking their place. The chalky, white dust floated up from the ground with every step that she took, coating her shoes in the process. Never in her life had Caroline ever found herself in a part of town so elegant and ornate. Despite its obvious age, the resting ground was in pristine condition. There was no sign of vandalism or graffiti that often disgraced the older cemeteries in towns even as small as Mystic Falls. The monuments were clean and defined, like they’d been erected only days earlier; the above catholic structures, with their crosses and carved figures, stood proudly and untouched aside from the fresh flowers that rested in a few scattered vases and the occasional forgotten beer bottle. All around her, the night air was as still as the dead that occupied it, with only Caroline to disturb the pristine scene with her harsh edges and bloody clothing. It was all very beautiful, but in the way that a devastating storm had the ability to take one's breath away: tantalizing and mesmerizing, all the while masking something devastating and rotting. The other female's scent caught up to Caroline before the rest of her did - that natural flowery smell that always seemed to cling to the young woman like an expensive perfume that had been applied too generously in hopes of masking the underlying smell of death, only slightly masked by the lingering breath of her mint toothpaste and the always present tang of liquor that filled the bar. When they had first met, Caroline had been so intrigued by the Necromancer’s interesting smell. Now it just scraped at her senses like nails against a chalkboard - yet another reminder of the many reasons why she had left the trivial sentimentalities of her humanity behind. Following that scent to a nearby bar - one she had frequented rather regularly since arriving in the Quarter due to its magical ties - she discarded the body in the adjoining alley before dusting off her hands, tossing her hair over her shoulder, and making her way inside. "Stop me if you've heard this one," Caroline stated smoothly as she slid into the barstool to Aaron’s right a few moments later, signaling for a drink, before crossing her tanned legs and tilting her body in the familiar blondes direction, "a necromancer with a death wish, a humanity-less vampire, and a hundred-some innocent humans walk into a bar...."

#Caroline 12

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datawesomenessdoe-blog · 6 years

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TFtCS: Uninvited Guest

Melissa let out a bothered grunt as she finished stretching out her various bothered muscles and joints. “Heh, seems like the pirate needed a both nice AND amazing wizard to save him~” Rather than being met with some kind of unamused response that Davy has imprinted onto the woman, Elo begins to lose his sense of security. The automaton stands and begins to furiously type on the multiple consoles, the still-functional screens displaying as he activates various defenses. >Blast Barriers: Online >Sonar Cloak: Online >Bulkhead Locks: Online "Hey man, are you alright? That thing’s dead already.” The wizard placed a palm along the taller, yet much more fear-intolerable member of their little duo as all of the ship’s thick doors lock and windows close, though he merely ignores her and continues to furiously type. “Does-this-ship-have-any-defense-turrets!?” The question was slurred into one panicked sentence while glaring at the large monitor with his shrunken artificial eye. “Dude, relax! The thing’s already dead!” Elo hadn’t been able to reactivate the binds between each of the console's buttons and levers, so he was forced to aggressively type in every individual command instead, the aggressive clattering of the old-timey physical keyboard translating his distress. “BECAUSE MELISSA!” His semi-wheezy voice began to exclaim through worry and uncomfort. “Who knows where that thing came from or how many more there are!” He turns around to face the robe-dressed woman. “That could have just been a scout, so who knows what else could be coming for us!” Realization punches the woman in the gut as she takes a knee, now inspecting the makeshift drone. “You’re actually right… And it looks like this is an attachment drone, so it has to have some kind of base honing in on it. From what I can tell this is a thrown-together Spectator droid, Drone-class. During the war these things were usually paired with…” She slowly tilts her head back to gaze upon Elo’s unslotted back. “This belongs to an Observant droid...” He looks back over to the woman. “So whatever is hunting us… Is most likely one of my kind…” Elo quickly types a command into the computer. “Lucky for us, I was working on the communications array before that thing tried to kill us, so…” >Communications Array: Online “YES!” The two happily shouted in sync with each other, only to exchange a giggle. “Hold on...” Elo pauses. “We got a call from Davy too! Maybe she ended up finding some kind of civilization!” The automaton prepares to enter yet another command. A mass of blue dust and hollow squares forms at the bridge’s door, and it was charging right for Elo. As the shape finished taking its form, it was revealed that the backless invader had his right arm raised and ready for a powerful punch. Melissa quickly reaches out, almost as if the world had entered some kind of slowness. Purple veins trail up the smaller machine’s left arm, and as Melissa pulls back her arm and twists her hand, it almost seems as if she yanked him out of the way. The reality-bending invader quickly plants his larger fist into the command console, actively erasing all of the progress Elo had made. The windows’ blast shields hadn’t completely closed, so late-daylight had still been peering in without invitation. The bulky intruder’s gauntlet was still inside of the ship’s main computer as his head turned, only to gaze upon Elo and Melissa as they both sat on the floor. His eye was red and screen cracked, and his voice reflected a deep, computer-generated voice. “Ahh, so I get to finally meet you two in person… It’s strange really, seeing a Sentient-class artificial intelligence that is of the same build as myself, yet is so small and weak. Don’t take any of this personally, as I have no emotional conflict with either of you. Observant soon takes a charge towards Melissa, causing her to quickly rise upon two feet. The woman had no time to dodge, and the space’s size was perfect for slow melee combat, so she created a large purple barrier, an exact copy to the one she used with Observant-b prior. However, Observant’s blunt force effortlessly bashed down the otherwise-strong shield, and most of the force had still made its way to the wizard’s chest, sending her flying back into the wall. As the hulking droid stepped towards the injured woman, Elo managed to jump onto his back. The smaller automaton quickly began to bash at his larger counterpart’s neck with the same metal tool he had been using earlier, though it was ineffective. Observant growled and forcibly grabbed at Elo’s right arm with his own and crushed it like a tin can, then whipped him across the room with the destroyed limb. The muscular machine slowly stepped toward his two prey, ready to painlessly finish them off. “Please forgive me.” He requests in the usual dead tone, though is stopped by a sudden rumble. The sound of shockwaves cause the entire ship to shake along with a loud, squishy cracking sound that fills the air for miles. Observant falls down onto his back and is unable to lift his heavy frame, giving Melissa the opportunity to slowly lift her palm. Observant-B was once-again enveloped in veins, and was turned to face it’s larger base-droid. Her palm opens, causing a jet of electricity to fly out from the smaller companion, filling the Frankensteined machine with a fatal dose of raw power, effectively frying his circuits. “WHAT!?” Nemesis shouts to herself as the factory begins to vibrate, the loud cracks of sound now reaching said facility as she crawls out from the rubble Davy forced her into. The several dozens of armed guards that surrounded the two pirates all began to look up in a worried curiosity. “THIS IS THE GALACTIC VANGUARD, REMAIN WHERE YOU ARE OR RISK POTENTIAL ASSAULT.” That sentence echoes throughout the facility as the sound of several ships begin to swarm around the factory. Metal beams begin to collapse from the roof due to the intense shaking, and virtually everything inside that isn’t pinned down begins to shake. Orange spotlights peer in through the broken windows near the top of the worn-down structure. “DAMMIT! EVERYONE EVACUATE!” Nemesis and many of her forged creations begin to rush along her mile-long transport ship, utterly ignoring Jessie and Davy as they stand and merely watch. The ship lifts up from the ground as Sentients continue to try and rush onto their Ark, though as Vanguard gunships begin to whirl around and peer into the hangar, the ship engages an emergency slipspace jump and vanishes from sight. The smaller military spacecrafts begin to fly in through the hundred-foot tall opening and into the open floor, causing all of the remaining machines to either drop their weapons and fall to their knees, or attempt to run and hide. Jessie looked up at the ships with a relieved grin across his stubbled face. Davy looked up with similar relief, but she was jumping and exclaiming her happiness instead. The ships began to lower down to the factory floor and land on three propped-up legs, their entrances opening to reveal a multitude of Vanguard soldiers, all of which poured out. A mix of armored humans and Sentient droids began to relax as they exited the vehicles. They were all dressed in bulky armor, grey and white, almost like cleaned and newer versions of the armor Davy and her crew wore. A large, 20-foot droid stepped out from a much larger gunship. His one eye was met with three long panels, making a “Y” shape around it. Metal tentacle joints were all clasped to the bulkier chunks of armor that made up most of her limbs. The tentacles, however, seemed to have an orange glow run through them. The two pirates’ dreadlocks began to stop fluttering from the violent movement in the air as the ships settled. Jessie stood up and began a fully-confident and highly-triumphant laugh, Davy, however, just stared at the large figure as if she were mesmerized. “Davy! Do you have any idea who that is!?” An uncanny amount of joy was displayed across the co-captain’s face as the large automaton walked up to them. It peered down at them with its singular eye, then crouched down onto one knee. “You two must have a lot of questions, and it would seem as though one of you is already aware of who I am.” The strange figure recited with a male, British tone. Davy continued to look up at the orange-highlighted figure, one eye more squinted than the other. He moves back up into a standing position. “Perhaps you have heard of me from stories of the War, or maybe you are aware of my sibling…” The giant takes a pause to look back and forth between the two humans. “I am Brother, holder and keeper of the Armament of Sol.”

#TFtCS #Tales From the Cosmic Sea #My Writing

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lightnovelsonline-blog · 7 years

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ATG Chapter 946

Chapter 946 – Freezing Snow City The trio had unwittingly flown through a few thousand kilometers of the snow region. Snow Song Realm did not have an ocean of water, only a boundless ocean of ice. During the few thousand kilometer journey, the Snow Song Realm touched Yun Che greatly. Aside from the god realm aura that was completely different than that of the Blue Pole Star, there was a stifling empty silence. The Snow Song Region was much more vast than the Blue Pole Star but whether it be the amount of people or profound beasts, those were incomparably sparse here. “We’ve arrived,” Mu Bingyun stated as she opened her eyes that had been resting the entire time. The direction of the flight suddenly shifted downward. The sea of clouds scattered and an enormous world shrouded in illusory icy mist instantly appeared before Yun Che. The temperature had suddenly dropped and the originally extremely dense energy of heaven and earth quickly became even richer. Even though they were high in up in the skies, the enormous world didn’t seem to have a limit. Within the icy mist, glaciers, cities of ice and ice origins were scattered across the area. They were covered with a layer of might so sharp that its ice-cold suppression caused Yun Che to involuntarily hold his breath. A long cry pierced through the high skies. A huge bird that was at least a few kilometers wide in body length alone flew over from the icy mist. Its approach brought along an oppressive feeling that caused Yun Che’s entire body to stiffen… For him, it was a tremendous, totally incomprehensible suppression. He had no doubt that this huge bird only needed an instant to erase him from this world. However, the huge bird held not the slightest bit of hostility in its aura. In fact, it shifted the trajectory of its flight and actively made way for them. It seemed as though that long cry was its greeting call. In the next instant, Yun Che was stunned to see countless shadows within the icy mist that filled the air. There were huge blue birds, white single-horned beasts and all kinds of oddly shaped ice beasts… there were even several kilometer long ice dragons! The profound beasts which flew through the skies of this world were all, without exception, ice attribute profound beasts and any one of them, even the weakest, left Yun Che trembling in fear. “This is the Ice Phoenix Realm, where Divine Ice Phoenix Sect is located,” Mi Bingyun narrated with a soft voice. “Our Divine Ice Phoenix Sect should not be the same as the sects you know of. Ice Phoenix Realm is around the same size as the Profound Sky Continent but there are not more than two hundred million people here.” “Two hundred million?” Yun Che was shocked. “These two hundred million people all belong to Divine Ice Phoenix Sect?” “No.” Mu Bingyun shook her head. “From the lowest Snowfall Palace disciple to the highest Main Sect Master, Divine Ice Phoenix Sect only has a total of ten million members. As for the others, the majority are the Snow Song Realm’s profound practitioners with the minority being lower realm ascenders. In order to enter Divine Ice Phoenix Sect, they would reside within the Ice Phoenix Realm year round to cultivate, settling down in the Ice Phoenix Realm and even go as far as to establish some forces of various sizes here. You can perhaps view the Ice Phoenix Realm as a special country with Divine Ice Phoenix Sect as its core. The places between Divine Ice Phoenix Sect and the borders of the Ice Phoenix Realm are all generations of profound practitioners who work hard in hopes of joining Divine Ice Phoenix Sect. Mu Bingyun’s gaze slightly shifted as she mumbled softly, “Elder Sister…” The icy mist grew more and more faint as Yun Che was gradually able to see what was below them. A blue, indistinct silhouette appeared. Yun Che was able to recognize the tail of a phoenix at first glance. However, completely different from the fire phoenix, this phoenix tail was a flowing cold, icy blue color. There was either a city or a huge palace on top of each phoenix feather. The shape of the Divine Ice Phoenix Sect was precisely a reclining ice phoenix more than fifty thousand kilometers long from north to south. With Yun Che’s eyesight, even at such a high altitude, he was only barely able to see the silhouette of a phoenix tail. Could it be that the ice phoenix really is an ice type phoenix? The icicle beneath their feet suddenly accelerated at this time, fast enough to make Yun Che subconsciously close his eyes. When he opened them, the speed of the icicle suddenly slowed before completely grinding to a halt. Ding! Amidst a light sound, the icicle disappeared and Yun Che’s feet landed on the incomparably hard ice crystal floor. Before him were numerous unusually tall structures, palaces and buildings. The tall ones were at most three kilometers tall and the shortest were close to three hundred meters. They were all built with ice crystals and reflected ice-cold light. In this area, the element of ice was so rich and active that it had reached its pinnacle. If he looked into the distance, he would see fast moving white or blue robed silhouettes and the silhouettes of kinds of ice profound beasts and profound arks from time to time. At the extreme limits of his line of sight was a three kilometer tall palace bigger than the entire Blue Wind Imperial City. Beside the palace was an ice crystal phoenix with its wings spread, as though it was in flight. The might it released was so thick that it nearly enveloped the entire world. Everything seemed as though he had arrived in a wonderland of ice and snow. The Snow Region of Extreme Ice could be said to be the Profound Sky Continent’s coldest, purest region where the ice element was the most concentrated and active. However, if it were to be compared to this place, it would be as insignificant as dust. “Phew! We’re finally back. This is the first time I’ve left for this long after entering Divine Phoenix Sect.” Mu Xiaolan closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the pure cold air in this place. Even though she had only stayed for a month, the Profound Sky Continent’s aura was still turbid to the point where she couldn’t endure it. “This is the Ice Phoenix Realm.” Mi Bingyun looked at Yun Che and said, “Up ahead is Freezing Snow City, the place where Freezing Snow Hall is located. Unofficial disciples are not allowed to enter and exit at will. If they encounter a disciple of the sect, they would be sure to be interrogated. However, since you were brought here by me, you do not have to worry.” “Elder Sister already knows that I’ve returned. I must see to her immediately, lest she get too worried. I will also tell her of your situation in passing,” Mu Bingyun stated. “Ah?” Mu Xiaolan softly gasped. Then, she hung her head and muttered in a small voice, “It’s even hard for someone like Senior Brother Hanyi to see the Great Realm King… How could the Great Realm King even bother with a small lower realm bad guy like him?” Mu Bingyun slightly shook her head. “Xiaolan, Elder Sister definitely won’t treat him unfairly just based on the fact that Yun Che saved my life. So… Yun Che, you do not need to be too nervous here and just treat this place as an ordinary cultivation ground.” “Alright.” Yun Che nodded. “I’ll be troubling you then.” Profound practitioners, even those from the Snow Song Realm that had come to the Divine Ice Phoenix Sect for the first time, would all tremble in fear. Those ascenders from lower realms would be even more nervous, such that they would shrink to their smallest. However, what Mu Bingyun saw from Yun Che’s face was actually deep curiosity and even faint excitement… unexpectedly, not a hint of nervousness was found there. “Xiaolan, go bring Yun Che to the Freezing Snow Main Hall. Use my name to directly take an Ice Phoenix Engraved Jade for Yun Che so he could become a disciple of Freezing Snow Hall. As for which hall he’ll be placed in, let fate decide that. Afterwards, go take him on a stroll in Freezing Snow City.” “Yes, Master.” Mu Xiaolan complied with unwillingness written all over her face. “In addition, let me say this again. You mustn’t tell anyone that Yun Che cured my poison and learned the Ice Phoenix God Investiture Canon!” “Don’t worry Master, I definitely won’t let out a single word.” Mu Bingyun slightly nodded. She quickly rose, turned into a streak of blue and completely disappeared from their line of sight. “Seriously, why does she treat him so well…” It was not known how many times Mu Xiaolan mumbled those words but she did it yet again with a tone that contained a distinct tone of jealousy. “Cough, Little Sister Xiaolan…” Once Yun Che said those words, Mu Xiaolan turned around lightning quick and answered aggressively, “What Little Sister Xiaolan! Call me senior sister! Senior sister! Also, before I bring you to Freezing Snow City, you better remember this well, you can’t secretly run around wherever you like, can’t say random things and your eyes can’t randomly roam around! Especially since our Divine Ice Phoenix Sect has more female disciples, y-y-you… you definitely can’t do things you shouldn’t do! Otherwise… otherwise, don’t blame me for not warning you.” “Things I shouldn’t do? What things I shouldn’t do?” Yun Che asked with a face full of innocence. “In short… just do whatever I tell you to. Otherwise, you better behave and stand there doing nothing!” Mu Xiaolan said in a really loud voice. “Understood.” Yun Che gave a rather helpless reply. “Hmph, now that’s obedient.” Mu Xiaolan nodded in satisfaction after seeing this “lowly bad person” behaved quite well under her admonishment. Then, she flew up, “Follow me.” Under Mu Xiaolan’s guidance, Yun Che entered the Freezing Snow City. Freezing Snow Hall was located in and directly headed for the Freezing Snow Main Hall. The three kilometer tall palace hall Yun Che first saw upon his arrival was precisely the Freezing Snow Main Hall. North of the Freezing Snow Main Hall were also exactly one hundred and eight Freezing Snow Halls and they were all around the size of a city in the lower realms. After entering Freezing Snow City, the surrounding aura changed once more. An extremely dense ice aura assaulted his face as human figures also increased within his line of sight. It was at this time that Yun Che suddenly thought about a phrase Jasmine had once said. He conjured some energy and his right hand suddenly grabbed forward as his profound strength surged. Bang!! With Yun Che’s strength, whether it be the Profound Sky Continent or the Illusory Demon Realm, this attack was enough to cave space at a large scale. At this moment, Yun Che’s profound energy did create the ear-splitting sound of an energy explosion but space… forget about caving space, not even a minute distortion or ripple had been created. Yun Che, “…” At that time, Jasmine had said that the God Realm’s spatial laws far exceeded that of the Profound Sky Continent. With his power, even if he used all his strength, he should forget about causing the slightest amount of damage to the God Realm’s space. At that time, he somewhat doubted her words but it was now that he completely understood that Jasmine had not exaggerated the least bit back then. The God Realm and the lower realms… truly were two different planes of existence. “What are you doing?” The sound behind him caused Mu Xiaolan to be on guard as she turned around. “Oh… I was just wondering what the ‘Ice Phoenix Engraved Jade’ Fairy Mu was talking about earlier was,” Yun Che stated. “It is basically the nameplate that says that you are a disciple of Divine Ice Phoenix Sect!” Mu Xiaolan kept her temper as she explained, “Different ranked disciples of Divine Ice Phoenix Sect will also have different Ice Phoenix Engraved Jades. Snowfall Palace is light blue, Freezing Snow Hall is ice blue and our Ice Phoenix Palace is… sky blue!” Then, she pointed at the sparking stone around her left collarbone which was releasing an illusory blue light. “Look, it’s this! The deeper the color, the higher your rank. It is your proof of identity and it can also be used to store items, transmit sound or even absorb cold energy to assist you in your cultivation. The teleportation formations of various sizes within the sect also require the Ice Phoenix Engraved Jade to activate. Different engraved jades also activate different teleportation formations. For example, once you obtain the Freezing Snow Hall’s engraved jade, you are only able to activate the teleportation formations of Freezing Snow Hall and Snowfall Palace. If you want to go to Ice Phoenix Palace’s regions, hmph, fat chance unless Master or I bring you along.” “Oh,” said Yun Che. At this moment, two especially pretty white-robed Freezing Snow Hall disciples came over. When they saw Mu Xiaolan, they hurriedly stepped forward and bowed, “Senior Sister Xiaolan.” “Strange, why are there so few people here today? Did something happen today?” Mu Xiaolan asked. The girl on the right side answered, “In reply to Senior Sister, today’s the final day of this year’s new disciple examination for Freezing Snow Hall. The Main Hall Master has ordered all disciples without an assignment to stay in their respective halls. If they don’t have any special matters, no one is allowed to casually walk around.” “Oh, right!” Mu Xiaolan came to a realization. “It really is around these days, I actually forgot about it.” “Senior Sister Xiaolan, this is?” The girl on the right looked at Yun Che. His profound strength aura was only at the Sovereign Profound Realm and he didn’t have an Ice Phoenix Engraved Jade so he was a dubious individual who shouldn’t appear in this area. “He’s someone my Master brought here from a lower realm. From now on, he’ll be your junior brother.” Mu Xiaolan casually explained, then gestured at Yun Che. “Alright, let’s go already. I forgot that these days are Freezing Snow Hall’s new disciple examination days. We should hurry up and go get an Ice Phoenix Engraved Jade. We can’t disturb the busy hall masters.” Astonishment flashed past the two Freezing Snow Hall’s females as they watched them leave. Mu Xiaolan’s Master… who was also a grand Ice Phoenix Palace Master, brought back someone who was only at the fifth level of the Sovereign Profound Realm from the lower realms? This? Mu Xiaolan was an Ice Phoenix Palace disciple. In this Freezing Snow City that was one rank lower than her, she could walk against the law and any Freezing Snow Hall disciples had to immediately greet her upon encountering her. The most basic requirement to join Freezing Snow Hall was stepping into the divine way. Getting into the Divine Origin Realm was also merely obtaining the qualification to participate in Freezing Snow Hall’s examinations. Every year, countless people who had reached the Divine Origin Realm still did not qualify to enter Freezing Snow Hall and could only continue on as a member of Snowfall Palace. As such, any person one would encounter the in Freezing Snow City would release the aura of the divine way, were in the formidable Divine Origin Realm and were all well-known people of excellence. If any one among them were to go to the Blue Pole Star, they would definitely be absolute existences without parallel. This was the terror of the God Realm. Previous Main page Next Read the full article

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drawandbewell · 7 years

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Draw Well, Be Well

My Daughter’s Reminders

My daughter grew up falling down, with a black eye here and a broken leg there. She doesn’t have enough balance to stand or walk, not without falling that is.

She’s crashed face down on floors, and scraped herself roughly against sidewalks, all while trying to take just a few more unsteady steps. She’s fallen off chairs and sofas, and struck hard, sharp things, like table corners, one of which left a crooked hairline scar on her lily white chin.

But as these wobbly pictures of Jenny’s remind me, she’s often been able to draw herself back to a steadier state of mind – faster than she might otherwise have – by reaching for her pencils and pens. I call these pictures of her’s my daughter’s reminders. They remind me of things, bitter and sweet, about her struggling childhood and adolescent journey towards a challenged adulthood.

They poignantly recollect the people, places, and things she’s been drawn to while moving over the thin ice of her tippy 29-year life. They remind me, too, of some of her most black and blue times; times so fracturing that simply picking up a marker was a Herculean task. A picture drawn with a swollen hand and a black eye is to her just another picture. For me it is a badge of courage.

Made during a painful, difficult time 13 years ago, these particular pictures remind me that with a well-inked marker in her wobbly left hand, Jenny can find the inner strength to draw herself towards a kind of greater equilbrium. Again and again she’s leaned on drawing to reach towards a greater awareness of herself and others.

She draws rapidly, rarely pausing, and never erasing. Her pictures, which she mostly tosses away, have served her about as well as any images can. Perhaps because they help remind her that while she can’t skate, swim or run, she can handily picture a world of real and imagined things. Transforming her idea of a bird’s feathers into bright pink and purple plumes, for instance, isn’t a matter of image-making. It’s a rhytmic, physically rewarding act that is brimming with muscular release. She can draw for hours, and generate fresh energy as she goes.

“I have zero paper fright,” she says in her halting speech, adding, “When I make pictures they can go out to anywhere.” This oft-repeated phrase “go out to anywhere” speaks to Jenny’s wish to be unbounded, free, and able to do anything. And, so she says, “It is great to be drawing-able.”

Looking at these pictures, my memory swings back to her third birthday when she was coming out from under the fierce weight of a painfully drawn-out illness. She was struggling to hold onto a red crayon which kept falling from her tiny hand. When she finally produced the first bold marks that she had in a very long time, her pale face rouged up, and she declared in utter delight, “Look, momma, look! I make go!” The action of making things go -- partly serves as an antidote to her movement disorder -- and is yet another reminder of why she clings so tenaciously to her picture-making habit.

I hope never to forget the night when she drew her fast-falling peanut shell and broken, ice-cubed clock in a furious sprint in our New York City apartment. They flew from Jenny’s hand on a dark, blue December night as she labored to speed her recovery from one of her longest falls ever: her shattering fall through her REM cycle. It happened in late August, four months before, when she crashed in that hard to find place in the human mind where unrecoverable sleep falls.

She was 16 and had been a frightened, unhappy camper at a special sleep-away camp for youngsters with disabilities. While she went sleepless over several nights, the young counselors and nursing staff completely misread the alarming signs of her incoherance, incontinence, and loss of appetite. My wife and I were in the dark until we received a call from the mother of one of Jenny’s camp-mates. “Katie’s afraid that Jenny’s cracked up,” she told us. Katie, had it right.

In the wake of that fall, Jenny was so lost and disconnected that she couldn’t draw a simple picture or sing a solitary song from late August until the last week of December 2004. Sleep deprivation becomes a torturous thing when it crumbles the mind of a person with a fragile, cognitively impaired brain like my daughter’s. Like Jack following Jill, I myself became exhausted and sleep-deprived trying to keep vigil over her. There was little comforting her as she reeled backwards into reawakened memories of her scariest fears. I remember her swatting the air around her head of brown curls as if she were shooing away August’s mosquitoes.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her.

“Seizure monsters want me,” she said warily. “They’re going back to my brain.”

She wasn’t suffering from seizures or skin rashes. Those maladies had stopped buzzing her several years before. But as these drawings remind me there’s no erasing the difficulties drawn in permanent ink by her hard to pronounce genetic disorder. It’s name – Incontinentia Pigmenti – still freezes on her tongue.

It is owing to this rare, X-linked chromosomal disorder that Jenny’s vision is impaired, that she sits forever on the edge of her next fall, and struggles to retrieve her spoken language. And it’s why she lacks the precise kind of graph-o-motor control that her artist mother and artist brother have. It is this fine motor shorfall that may help explain why at the age of 29 her pictures resemble those of a much younger person’s. Some might say a child’s.

Clearly, Jenny looks half her age, if not younger. She’s small in stature, has a high-pitched voice, and gaps in her warm smile where a handful of teeth refused to grow. And yet, as these pictures also remarkably remind me, she has grown up to be 29, a nice warm age I once really feared she might never reach. As her black and red seizure monster recalls to me, her childhood resembled one long convulsive time, an eleven year stretch in which she regularly fell through her own conscousness. Those long, seizurous falls ripped entire weeks out of her school calendar. They left her as floppy as a Valium-soaked rag doll. Yet just as soon as she could manage to hold a marker again, she wielded it tenaciously. The results, even the scratchiest, most indecipherable, became energizing spring-boards.

She doesn’t draw for my sake nor for art’s sake, but for her own sweet sake. I can see now, in my sixty-fifth year, that her picture-making has rarely forsaken her. By reaching for her place on the ancient red line of drawing, Jenny has repeatedly found a pathway on which to keep herself living as well as she possibly can.

Is it any wonder why these pictures are worth a thousand pictures each to me? A thousand, if not more. Their value reaches beyond their immense worth to her. For me, there is something gorgeous and uplifting in her left-leaning shapes, shaky lines and triumphant colors flying incontinently over thousands of freshly started pieces of paper.

Jenny doesn’t recall drawing her backwards facing rooster or purple head rolling down August. It took a year from the time of her depriving fall at that sleep-away camp before she fully recovered. And it wasn’t until several years later that I was able to take them out of the desk drawer where I had hid them from myself. They were too potent like a once familiar song heard on the radio from long ago that absorbs one in a by-gone gloom. They had a wicked bite to them, but when seen a few years later in light of her enormous progress and a growing foreground of her newest joys, next greatest loves, and generally happier self-portrait, they looked altogether positive, hopeful, and important. They looked like a parade of curious icons and images, marching boldly, if unsteadily across the pinstriped lines of difficult times passing by.

They are nothing more than the handi-work of a pencil-thin,16-year-old daughter strenuously drawing herself through a dark winter’s night to recover her healthier rhythms. In this rediscovered cadence are the notes of the first song she sang as she began reconnecting her severed memory to the rest of her lonely self. The glue she needed to hold her delicate sleep genie in its fragile bottle didn’t come from a new medicine or her hospital stay. It was squeezed from her pens and pencils.

We have since given names to a few of these images. Some she has offered captions for. Others appear to be of no interest to her whatsoever. But taken together they evoke that time of sleep-disordered days and nights, crying-jags, sweat-soaked pillow cases, and embarrasing public explosions of inappropriate laughter. But they also underscore her return to hope, and the wellness which followed right behind it, because just when I feared that she might have landed permanently down Humpty Dumpty’s wall, she spotted the red placemark that dangled from my outdated appointment book, and with it she found her spark again.

I was about to trash my 2003 appointment book in a pique of anger. My frustration had turned to rage as we hung in the limbo of her un-wellness. With the New Year just a few days away, I watched her push away another bowl of pasta. How could she still have no appetite? As she sat staring blankly out the kitchen window I wanted to shake her. That’s when I swept up an armful of my old hard-covered journals, diaries, and calendars from a nearby bookshelf and hurled them into a plastic trash can. The crash startled her. She could see that I had lost it. I was bent on getting rid of every single datebook I had ever bought. There were mover a dozen, and each reminded me of my worst frustrations. They marked years of my fruitless work, wishful thinking, and her countless medical appointments. They were mocking me with their dust, and rubbing it in about my obsessive habit of writing things down in little printed boxes, in hopes of bringing some order to my disordered daughter’s life. What good had they done? Here we were, drawing a complete blank in our boxey, low-ceilinged Bronx apartment. Home had never felt so bleak, so stale, so drab.

It was a good thing that the bright red cotton ribbon placemark leapt from the binding of my 2003 Lettes of London diary as I aimed it at the trash. Serendipitously it landed in her sight.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“It’s a book mark, it remembers your place.”

“Really?” she said. “I want to draw in it, where are my markers?”

They were piled high in a long, wide tray exactly where they had been resting since August.

She hungrily opened the dairy. And as she began drawing, her eyes brightened and her skin pinked up. After three hours of continuous picture-making she could barely hold up her head. I mader her stop and carried her to bed. She rested with the book alongside her pillow and awoke a little bit after five a.m. "Can we get up yet?” she asked, “I want to draw some more." I told her to wait a while, at least until the morning sun rose. When we returned to the kitchen table at a nine she looked much better. She drank some light, sweet coffee and had a few bites of buttered toast. For the next three hours later her images continued moving along the meridians of weekly reminders. Every time she turned the pages to draw across a new area she moved the crimson ribbon along with her. “It’s a bookmark, it reminds you,” she said.

"Look at all these amazing pictures you made," I told her.

"Thanks," she said, “can I please draw some more?"

“Sure, you can. You draw so well.”

She set down her pencil, quickly picked up another, and with the hint of a lilt in her voice reminded me, "Well dad, you know, draw well, be well."

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