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[saltsicklover]

Title: Fated to Run - Fated to Fly ꨄ︎ Part Two

Read Part One

Part Three Coming Soon!

Prompt from THIS ASK

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader SOULMATE AU

Word Count: 4000+

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Lots of Crying, Parent Trouble and Reconciliation, Insecurity,

We don't get to meet Bobby yet, I'm sorry!

My father's office looks the same. Honesty it has looked the same for as long as I can remember, and it's not just this office either. Every single one of my father's offices has looked just this way. Tan walls, that sort of sad, off beige color that every military installation, from this side of the world to the next, think outfit them so well. There's always a strong oak desk, sometimes it's pine, but either way it's always a sturdy piece of furniture that has no business around the thrown together particle board of the neighboring pieces.

My father has always brought in his own chair. It's faded leather is always well conditioned and it's warn in. Warn in just the way that when you sit in it, you can almost feel the ever lasting presence of the many years my father has sat in that very seat. He has hauled it with him all around the country, always in unaccompanied baggage so it would be sitting in his office and ready for him upon his arrival. He used to joke that if he made it there before his beloved chair, his time stationed there would be hell in a handbasket.

The day he got stationed at Top Gun as the Air Boss, that chair took it's rightful place behind the new desk. The same desk with empty drawers and too many files preemptively stacked atop it. But that's just how it is, right? After all, it's been that way since my father made Commander and things don't look to be changing anytime soon.

The decanter on his book shelf has been wiped clean of dust and fingerprints. No doubt filled with any run of the mill whiskey that may find it's way into my father's hands. It's an office staple, that decanter's about as old as myself, but the crystal still shines after 25 years, especially after a good cleaning. There's a bottle of good whiskey in the bottom drawer of his desk, sat beside a bottle of the best vodka he could find. Always ready for the COMPACFLT to drop by on a moment's notice, though the Admiral has never made himself known long enough to break it out.

I sit and stare out the windows, the ones that make up the back wall of his office. There's always windows, but strangely the size seems to correlate with rank. One might think it would depend on the building, on the base, on the climate or area of the world, but what I've come to find out is the higher the number on your Pay Code, the bigger your fucking office widows.

That, and the less time you have for your family. It seems the higher that Pay Code number, the more time I've managed to spend with clerks and assistants. More visitation with office windows and the low reflection that stares back at me as I try to focus on the air field. Aircraft take off and land, the service men and women knocking out their required flight hours as the sun moves its way throughout the sky. But still, there are times I catch my own eyes in that low light reflection, but there are less tears now. Or there had been, until that fucking incident at the airport.

Truth be told, I haven't stopped shaking. In that damn reflection of my father's office window I can see both my tear stained cheeks and the confused looks on Rhett and Jake's faces. The images twist together. It's all hurt, every last piece.

I'm sure the three of us would be a sight if we were all standing in the same place, the boys with those same lost looks, hurt flashing through there eyes, and me, red rimmed irises and damp skin. Skin that is already threatening to chap over from the way it stings. I should have savored the way they so fiercely defended me. The way they folded me into themselves and kept me safe. Isn't that what home is, if only so briefly? A lifted wing to a chick in the same way their kind eyes were to me. It's a shame, the way it all came crashing down with those four little words.

There's not even a part of me that doesn't ache when the memory of only hours ago runs through my head. Their touch still ghosts over my shoulders. Phantom fingerprints left upon my upper arms, still smoldering, smoking as they cool.

Friendship has to be written into the strands of the universe, it just must be. Hidden deep within the stitching, taking a back seat to the drips of ink that are marred into skin, so easy to see. Because if it isn't, my soul shouldn't feel this heavy. It couldn't feel this heavy. So it must be. It must be.

There's mumbling coming from just beyond the fire door of the office, voices that I can't make out by ear but I know those tell tale footsteps that can't help but get closer. My heart pounds in the same way his footsteps all but reverberate through the floor. The voices get closer, and closer, but I can't seem to focus on anything but the air field- the vision of my own red rimmed irises in the glass of the O-9 sized window.

"Sir, I'm trying to tell you that-" The words come through muffled then clear as the door nearly squeaks open. A call to DPW and those hinges wouldn't grind, but I know door hinges aren't exactly on the high priority list for a Vice Admiral.

"Birdie?" That damn nickname's spoken by my father, in that surprised tone that is just a little too irregular completely flattens all my resolve. The floodgates open, or moreover, they break, just as I turn to meet his eye.

"Hi Dad," The words come out too wet and too close to a sob, but we both just stand there looking at one another. In the time we stare at each other, the Earth has rotated almost two hundred eighty miles around it's access. Four hundred fifty kilometers in roughly fifteen seconds. His hand is still curled around the doorknob, the brass of the handle turned down just so. A Lieutenant stands next to my father, an apologetic look hung upon her features. The tightness of her bun pulls her eyebrows up, barely noticeable, but it makes her look a little more surprised, a little bit more of herself that's usually hidden under the mask, just barely breaking through.

It's another two hundred eighty miles before my father makes a move. He enters further into the office while the Lieutenant slips the door shut. I can almost feel how the handle must be warm beneath her slender fingers. The same warmth is rolling off of my hands; all of the nervous energy having nowhere to go but cycle out to my fingertips only to crawl back up my arms once more.

"Hey, kid," My father speaks after another moment passes, another few miles, "I- uh,"

There is so much hanging between us. After spending so many years arguing, instead of words left unsaid between us they all seem to be hanging in the air. Stiff and starched like a uniform collar, textured underneath my fingertips. The way they brush against my skin makes me itch as I inch closer. I wish to choke on them; on the words, longing for a moment that I had something else to say. Some sort of words found stuck somewhere between the tightness of my throat and the stickiness of my gums, lips dry and cracking under the pressure. Instead, they all still hang between us, a rickety old rope bridge while the few feet between us is a canyon's expanse.

The average argument lasts ten minutes, and families tend to have around a hundred arguments a year. That's a thousands hours of disagreements that stand between us over the last year alone. A hundred and twenty five words per minute. That's one hundred twenty five thousand words and I can feel each and every letter that hangs between us in this moment, thick between us like a fog. I can't seem to breathe.

The only thing that seems real is the hot tears falling down my cheeks and the sight of my father's downturned smile. There is so much pity there, or maybe it's remorse in the way one is remorseful for not appreciating a song the first time it's played through. It's the missing of the baseline and the way the bridge carries through to the end of the score. His eyes are gentle, in the way roses are- pricking, piercing from just the right angle.

"It's been a long time, Dad, I've missed you," The words have been hidden in the spaces between my molars, stuck there so long I barely recognized their honesty as they fell from my tongue. My lips catch on their sharp edges and I swallow down the acrid taste of bile and copper. Wiping at the new found streaks of tears, smearing them across the heat of my cheeks, my fingers come back tinged with watery mascara smudges.

"It's been too long, Birdie, sweet pea, too long," There's a slight hesitation in his tone, but it's all too genuine, in a way that makes my stomach turn. The nausea isn't new, not today. "How was-" I know he's going to ask about the last year, about the travel and the time spent in-between our arguments but I can't keep the words from slipping off of my tongue.

"I need to know about your Aviators," He stops, the words hitting him straight in the face leaving mouth hanging open mid sentence. His eyebrows scrunch with the narrowing of his gaze, the confusion evident in the way his head cocks gently to one side before he straightens it right back again. Parts of my father are slipping past the Admiral, like sand through fingertips, but he does everything he can to hold onto his hardened exterior.

"My Aviators?" There is so much hidden in the way the syllables crackle from his throat. He looks as though he has words still stuck to the roof of his mouth, words he keeps tonguing at to keep them hidden behind his teeth.

"I- yes," My brain is spiraling just a little to fast for my mouth to keep up. I can almost feel the way my nervous system is spiking, my neurons firing as my tongue tries to say the words in the forefront of my mind. The deep breath I force into my lungs does nothing to slow my thoughts, but my father's shoulders relax at the sight of my own shoulders dropping slightly. It's a shallow effort but it helps, if only a little.

"I met one of your Aviators today, at the airport," He nods in understanding, "Blond, tall, from Texas. Super nice. Said his name was Jake,"

"Jake?" My father huffs out, scrubbing a hand over his face. "A Texan with one of those shit eating grins?"

"He had a nice smile, if that's what you mean," I reason. The feeling of an impending argument is like static in the air, the hair on my arms standing on end as gooseflesh breaks out over my bare skin. That feeling is acknowledged with a quick glance between us, a look that has him moving closer to his desk. He picks up a framed photograph from it's corner before holding it out to me. I finally move closer, separating some of the distance between us. It's strange, being so close together after spending so long apart. I often wonder if that's how all children's relationships with their parents are after they grow up, or if my father and I are stuck in a unique form of perpetual misunderstanding. I take the photograph from his hand.

"This him?" He points at a man in the back row of the photograph, big smile and kind eyes. It's definitely him, that much I am certain of. There is just something so recognizable about that smile of his, the way the lines on either side of his mouth bend with a dash of mirth, bracketing perfect teeth. It's sick, really, how nice his teeth are.

There are a handful of other people shoved into the photograph together. Jake has his arm thrown around another man who sports a mustache and messy hair. That man looks at Jake like he emits pure light. Eyes squinted slightly with a smile too big to be contained with a closed jaw. That's Rooster. That's Jake's soulmate. There's no other explanation as to why the blond would be holding the other man so incredibly close, with his hands gripping into the material of Rooster's flight suit.

To Jake's other side is a woman. Her smile is smaller, almost practiced, but true joy emits from her eyes. With slicked back hair and sharp brows, she looks all business, like a woman not to be fucked with. But a friend, maybe? Her nametape is too small to read, but as one of the only women in the squad, she won't be too hard to pick out of the crowd. It's the man standing next to her that throws me. Another familiar face stands to her side, Rhett, only with shorter hair and glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. My eyebrows scrunch, mimicking my father's expression.

"Yeah, that's him," I confirm, my eyes still tracking over the faces in the photograph.

"Why do you ask, sweet pea?"

"I met a man on accident, really, his name is Rhett, and his friend was with him, this man here, Jake. We actually ended up on the same flight" I watch my father nod in understanding, one of his hands coming up to brush at his nonexistent five o'clock shadow. I huff, averting my eyes for the next part. "I might have had my soulmate sentence encounter earlier this afternoon," The confession is sheepish at best. I don't meet his eyes. There's no point. I know the expression he wears now and I know I can't handle it in this moment. There's already been enough crying.

"Was it with him? With Hangman?" I watch from the corner of my eye as my father's eyebrows knit together impossibly tighter. His voice is pinched at the callsign, lips tight around it.

"Yes, it was him, but that's not really the point, Dad," My eyes trail over him in the photograph again, but I'm pulled back to Rhett, confusion gnawing inside of my skull, just behind my eyes, "How old is this photograph, because this is Rhett right here, and he told me he wasn't military," I want to ask him if he really knows his aviators all that well, considering the lack of acknowledgement on his features.

"That photo was taken after their last mission, wasn't more than a few weeks ago, right after they all graduated their advanced training. It's recent, and there's nobody in that squad named Rhett,"

"There has to be! This is him, right here next to that woman. I swear it's him!" My fingernail, all chipped polish and sparkles, clinks against the glass, my father leaning closer to get a better look before plucking the frame from my gently shaking hands.

"Sweet pea, I think you're mistaken," His tone sounds like his words are treading a minefield somewhere deep in his throat. I can't help but cough at the thought. That tension bristles between us again, electric like a storm. My fingers knit through my hair to keep from chipping more of my nail polish from my already scraped up nails.

"That," My father taps the glass with his finger, "Is Lieutenant Floyd"

"Lieutenant Floyd?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Floyd," There's a faux confidence in his tone, the same one he used to use when he would call home to say he'd only be gone a little while longer.

"Dad," I raise my eyebrows as I finally swing my eyeline back up to meet his, "What is Lieutenant Floyd's first name?"

He sputters a bit, a hand rubbing at the lack of stubble on his chin. There's a sort of furrow to his brow, one I recognize, even if the rest of his features are laid out in a way I have never come to know. My father has always been a sure man, steadfast in his actions, information spread out in his brain easy to access. This grappling for an answer is unlike him, but it makes him seem impossibly more human. 

"Oh, Dad," The words are spoken with slight exasperation laced in the low chuckle that springs forth from deep within my chest. "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. I'll just ask the very nice Lieutenant who let me in earlier, she seemed... knowledgeable," 

I am met with the deep roll of my father's eyes, his hands no longer scrubbing over his face, instead he rubs carefully at his temples. His reaction makes me grip a little harder at my hair. It's stupid, this battle between us. Something left over from the strife of my youth; what we clung to with white knuckles and bloody nail beds just to keep a semblance of a relationship. It's all adolescent animosity stripped to adulthood anonymity, achingly arduous. 

"Honestly, Birdie," The words travel on an exhale, "I don't know his first name. Hell, I don't know most of them, especially if they don't give me trouble. I've always called him Lieutenant, barely ever needed Floyd tacked on the end,"

My father shrugs his shoulders unceremoniously, plopping the photograph back down onto the corner of his desk. He leans back into the long line of his desk, his usually pristine tan uniform wrinkling with the way he almost folds in on himself. My tongue flicks over my teeth as I fight the grimace I can feel rising over my features. I try and school my face back into pleasant nonchalance, much like my father usually does, however I think it's a skill better mastered with each star pinned to his collar. 

"Can I say something?" There's too much honesty in the way the words crackle out. I nod; it's easier that way. My hands find home near my hips, my thumbs tucked into my belt loops in a shallow attempt to keep from continuing the pull on my roots. 

"For what feels like forever now, it's just been you, your brother and I against the world. Just the three of us, and I know not having your mother has been one of the most challenging things, for all of us. I know there has always been this bond that Arrow and I have had, and maybe it's because he is my son, or because he decided that the Navy was his calling too. Either way, I know that there's a foundation there, one that you and I just don't have," I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes, but I do my best to blink them back. The more he speaks, the more the sight of him swims. 

"But, I want you to know that even though you and I have struggled," There's a little trace of humor there, but neither of us comment on it, "I love you so fucking much, kid. So much that my chest aches. And I knew this day was coming- your soulmate encounter. God, kid, I am so excited for you, but so fucking scared because you're my baby bird and I don't want anything bad to happen to you, I love you too much," 

There are tears steaking down his cheeks, a sight I haven't seen since my mother passed away. It makes my own chest ache in turn, seeing the strongest man I have ever known begin to crumble. With two quick steps, I am in my father's embrace. His arms are warm, cradling me into his chest, my face into the sandalwood scent of his collar. The stars pinned there less of an obstacle between us, now. He lets a land run over my spine, palm flat to my back, the warmth pooling through my top.

"I'll love you no matter what, kid, even if your soulmate is some military rat like me," He laughs,  low and rumbling, into my hair. 

"I love you, too, Dad, so much," I mumble into his collarbone, a smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. I can feel my tears sinking into the cotton of his shirt, the tan darkening with moisture. He doesn't seem to mind, or if he does, he doesn't say a thing. We stand there like that for a while, embracing. It's my father who breaks the silence. 

"So, kid," He clears his throat in an attempt to hide the mangled bit to tears that still sits on the back of his tongue, "Tell me, how did it all happen? What did Hangman say?" The distaste in my father's tone is evident. I pull away from the embrace with a rueful laugh, one that stirs around that anxious feeling that's been ever present since the airport. 

"Well," The word is all sigh, "Jake, Hangman or whatever you call him, was on the phone listening to his voicemail and Rhett had asked him who the message was from, you know? It was a pretty long message," I babble out the last sentence, trying to get to the point, but the words are stuck somewhere under my tongue. 

My father just nods at me, allowing me the space to continue. Instead, I plop down into one of the chairs that sits in front of his desk, ones that are meant for official meetings rather than anxiety soaked realizations. I scrub a hand over my face before winding my fingers through my hair again, gentler this time. He stares at me, patient eyes and expression neutral. It's practiced, but genuine. I stare at he ground in front of my shoes when I can no longer meet his gaze. 

"Rhett asked who it was," I begin again, back tracking a bit, "And Jake looked at him and said Oh, it's just Bob and that was it. I've had these words on my skin for so long that I thought hearing them would be so easy, but Dad, I panicked," 

"Oh Birdie, it's okay," My father hums, giving me a small grin on the side of reassurance, "It's not always like the stories, the fairytales are just to give us hope, but that's not how life is supposed to play out. It's alright," 

"It gets worse," My words are wet, "I ran, Dad, I ran. I heard him say that and I ran out of the airport and into the first cab I could find. I came straight here, I didn't know what else to do. I didn't even stick around to figure out exactly who Bob is to Jake. God, this whole situation gives me as much anxiety as a baby on board a pond jumper, look at me, I'm shaking like a fucking leaf." 

"What did you just say?" 

"I said I'm shaking like a leaf, look at me!" I laugh, but it catches in my throat and comes out all gargled. I hold my hands out, watching the way they tremor at the thought of it all. 

"No, not that," My father shakes his head, "The thing about the pond jumper," 

"I dunno, Dad, it was an analogy," I reply, it's all furrowed brows and tired voice. as if it could be anything else at this point. I watch my father's expression turn quizzical, his eyes tracking though the air as if he's watching a hop. His nose twitches for a second before he schools his expression back. His hands tighten a bit around the edge of his desk, then he's clicking his tongue to punctuate a sort of silent eureka moment. 

"Come with me, kid, I think there's someone we need to go talk to," Then he's pushing himself form the desk and heading towards the door with the same conviction the Admiral meets everything with.  

"What?" I push myself from my seat but can't keep my shoulders from sagging. He's stopped at the door, turning back to offer just a hint more. 

"I think you and I need to go see Captain Mitchell," There's distain in his voice at the name. I bite at my lower lip, tucking my hands back through my belt loops. 

"Why do we need to see Captain Michell? Isn't he the man you can't stand?" I ask, following after him. The whole thing seems futile but a curiosity thrums between my ribs. We pass the nice Lieutenant's desk, her seat vacant, before turning down the hall. It's not long before we are out on the air field and heading towards one of the large carriers.

[bigfrozenfan]

10-year-old mystery finally solved

One of the biggest riddles of Disney Frozen is how the choir gets up to the gallery. Nowhere in the movie is an entrance to the gallery or an access of any kind to be seen. All we see during Elsa's coronation scene is a completely open construction of the chapel, but there are twelve singers above the altar. How do they get there? Many fans have wondered how this is possible for ten years of Frozen's existence and everyone has puzzled over it. Even in books and comics, not a single clue is given and, stupidly, nowhere can you see the back of the chapel, i.e. from the west. Not even in Mindcraft designs is this side more clearly visible, which proves that the fans have no idea. However, there is Disney concept art and two, almost identical books about Arendelle Castle. The latter is clearly intended for children, but even there you can see the beginnings of a solution to the problem.

I myself was at a loss until yesterday, when I suddenly realised something while downloading screenshots and concept art. And tada!, suddenly everything was completely simple and logical. I could hardly believe it. You're probably asking yourselves now, "So how does that work? I don't believe anything without proof!" No problem. Let's go!

But first I'd like to show you my initial approach - until it turned out to be rubbish and couldn't work at all because of the open construction, no matter how you twist and turn it. Maybe you've already got there yourself.

Then I looked at the concept art of the chapel from the outside and the floor plan. Suddenly everything was clear to me and it made perfect sense. The only thing that didn't quite fit is the illustration in the book "All Around Arendelle" and the almost identical book "A Frozen World". There, the lower windows of the chapel are not shown, which can be seen in the concept art and round off the picture - also to the original model, St Olaf Church! But hey, it's a children's book and, in my opinion, the only incorrect depiction of the actual situation.

Here is the final proof:

Some side thoughts:

it makes no sense whatsoever to see a ladder or stairs in the church. It also makes no sense for something like this to be brought in from outside before every service.

a permanently installed staircase, but invisible to churchgoers, makes much more sense. But it must be easily accessible for the choir singers who a) want to rehearse independently of church services and b) do not enter the chapel at the same time as churchgoers. They arrive in their everyday clothes perhaps half an hour early and only need to put on their robes, which are c) always ready for them in a locked room behind the altar.

The entrance is well hidden behind the altar screen, and it is very likely that this door is even wallpapered in the style of the immediate surroundings, so it can withstand a casual glance from a curious person. In the room behind it, there is either a ladder to the gallery or - more likely - a permanently installed, narrow staircase leading to a hatch in the gallery. The singers' robes are always hanging ready for changing and the hatch at the top is there so that none of the singers accidentally tumble down the steps when closed. The stained glass windows around the small room also let in enough light for the singers to get changed in daylight without being seen, to talk face to face before the service and to get into the right mood with the coloured light from this type of window. There is another good reason for having a room separate from the church. The pastor or bishop can prepare there in peace, store things for the sermon and talk to the choristers undisturbed. I'm sure there are other reasons for such a room that I just can't think of right now, but you can certainly think of them yourselves.

This is how it would look like if the tapestry wall wouldn't be there:

PS: the only thing I haven't been able to solve yet is how to get up into the bell tower. There is a staircase that leads nowhere and no rope to ring the bell. Very strange… But on the real model, St Olaf's Church in Norway, you can see a ladder leading up to the bell tower.

Credits to: Art of Animation for the concept art images, and to GETTY images, David Nikel (for Forbes), Visitnorway.com for the images of St. Olaf Church in Balestrand, Norway.

Here are a few more pictures of St Olaf's Church in Balestrand, Norway, for those of you who are interested:

UPDATE 04/2024:

I stumbled upon a screencap from Frozen Fever where you can clearly see the rear left side of the chapel. And there are windows to be seen! I would say: because it's not only a part of the concept art but is seen in the Frozen Fever short too, my theory is confirmed now.

[furious-haste-of-malice]

❝ Thuringwethil licked her lips, her eyes flashing bright red. "I want your blood."  ❞

⊱ Prompt: Intoxicated sex ⊱ Pairing: Thuringwethil x Ilmarë ⊱ Synopsis: [Valinor falls AU - in which Melkor's forces manage to conquer Valinor and enslave its inhabitants] Thuringwethil accepts Nári's offer to help herself to a prisoner of her choice and finds a certain celestial Maia. ⊱ Featuring: Homoerotic blood drinking, (non-consensual) cunnilingus ⊱ Warnings: Sexual content, captivity, blood, hungry Thuri in a feeding frenzy (the intoxication part of the prompt), non-con

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: Finally getting another one for the @tolkienpinupcalendar Dead Dove December out (yes, I know). This one is yet another installment of the Valinor falls AU. I hope you enjoy!

It didn't take long for Thuringwethil to choose her victim. 

Nári's offer had been greatly appreciated and she swiftly found out that her fiery friend hadn't promised too much: In one of the provisional prison cells she found none other than Ilmarë, loosely chained to the wall. Her head hung low, soft rose-coloured tresses of hair obscuring her face, and she seemed despondent, not even looking up when the other Aini approached. 

Thuringwethil took a moment to watch her in silence. Aside from the usual things that caught her attention – the quiet sound of breathing, the subtle pulsing of her target's heart, the warmth of a living body – she felt a strange sense of familiarity as she beheld the celestial Maia, though she was certain she hadn't seen her before – at least not before she woke up in Melkor's care and became part of his folk. Whatever her past had remained lost to her after her time in the Void, and as far as she was concerned, it didn't matter anymore either. 

Silent as a shadow, she entered the cell. It was only then that Ilmarë finally looked up, eyes wide and frightened – she didn't know what to expect from an Úmaia, but assumed it wouldn't be pleasant. Still, within the flash of panic in her gaze, there was also a spark of something else, mirroring what Thuringwethil had felt earlier. 

"Do you remember me?" she asked with mild curiosity and flashed the captive Aini a smile, showing off her sharp, glistening fangs. 

Ilmarë eyed her for a moment, then shook her head. 

"If I knew you at any point, you are no longer the Maia you once were," she declared. Her voice held the echo of glittering stars, though faint in the darkness and marred by fear. "What remains is a creature of shadow in the service of the Enemy." 

Thuringwethil chuckled dryly. She knew such words all too well – monster, beast, abomination. Foul, undead, evil. Countless times had her prey cursed her, yet they still bled the same. Inhaling deeply, her senses were assaulted with the sweetness of Ilmarë's scent, full of light, life and the fire of stars, a most exquisite and delicious meal for a being like her. 

Hunger rose within her, wild and greedy. 

"If that is so, I hope you don't mind skipping the pleasantries in favour of what I have come for," she purred, stalking closer. 

Ilmarë bristled. "If it is information that you seek, I have none to give. I am merely a handmaiden of my queen and a caretaker of stars; I don't know what I could possibly have to give you." 

Thuringwethil licked her lips, her eyes flashing bright red. "I want your blood." 

Her instincts taking over, she was on top of the other Maia before the gasp of shock had even left her lips. She pushed her against the wall of her cell and straddled her hips, her claws leaving marks all over her unblemished skin. Ilmarë tried to defend herself, to push her away, but Thuringwethil was relentless. Her fangs pierced the soft skin of her neck, and she began to drink, moaning in pleasure when blood began to fill her mouth. 

It was just as warm and delicious as she had imagined. The scent alone was enough to drive her mad, and she tightened her grip on her victim as her mind went into a frenzy. Thuringwethil had to hold herself back from biting down harder, a nigh impossible task, but she couldn't let Ilmarë bleed out too fast. She needed her alive for as long as possible so she could keep feeding until her hunger had been sated, until the emptiness inside her had been filled – 

And even so she wanted more. Needed more. 

Blood dripped down her chin, and there was a feral red glow in her eyes when she withdrew for just a moment to admire her prey. What remained of Ilmarë's dress was now stained red, her breath was flat and her struggling had grown weaker – soon she was going to be perfectly docile and completely at her mercy, Thuringwethil noted with a shudder of pleasure. 

She tore her dress with her claws to explore what lay hidden underneath. Had she not been drunk on Ilmarë's blood, she would have admired her beauty a while longer before she marred it with bites and scratches, eagerly licking every fresh wound. Red surrounded her. Her hands, her lips, all warm and wet. 

Yes...

When she parted the celestial Maia's legs, Ilmarë barely managed a whimper and attempted to squeeze them together, but to no avail. Thuringwethil could feel her pulse underneath her fingers, muted and weakened, but still unmistakably there, and traced it all the way up her thighs and to the most vulnerable part of her fána. 

"I wonder if you will bleed just as nicely down there..." 

She bit down, and Ilmarë screamed. The rich taste of her blood mixed with the lovely, alluring scent of her womanhood, and Thuringwethil couldn't resist giving it a few experimental licks. Oh, the things she could do to such a pretty Maia if she wasn't hungry... but then again, she had all the time in the world to enjoy her meal, so why not allow herself a little treat? 

"N-no..." Ilmarë once again tried to escape her hold and close her legs when Thuringwethil's tongue invaded her fána. "Don't..." 

But her pleas and protests were ignored in favour of the sweet nectar pouring out of her shivering form, red mixing with clear liquid as both were mercilessly coaxed out of her until she was twitching on the ground, lightheaded, helpless and barely conscious. 

Thuringwethil wondered whether she would even be able to force an orgasm out of Ilmarë, but as long as she kept bleeding for her it mattered not. She was going to bite, lick and drink to her heart's content, to slake her thirst, to gorge herself on her light and beauty and not stop until every single drop of her essence was hers. 

Thanks for reading! ♡

[olet-lucernam]

A Hollow Promise [24] chapter vi, part i

{_[on AO3]_}

main tags : loki x original character, post-avengers 2012, canon divergence - post-thor: the dark world, canon-typical violence, mentions of torture

-

summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of New York, the Avengers need a few days to build a transport device for the Tesseract. With the Helicarrier damaged and surveillance offline, SHIELD sends an asset to guard Loki in the interim: a young woman who sees the truth in all things, and cannot lie.

Even long presumed dead, her memories lost to her, Loki would know her anywhere.

And this changes things.

Some things last beyond infinity. And the universe is in love with chaos.

(Loki was never looking for redemption. It came as an unexpected side-effect.)

-

chapter summary : astrid gathers her allies, and draws the attention of her enemies. loki pays a heavy price for a victory.

recommended listening : all the good girls go to hell, billie eilish

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-

60 weeks and 1 day out

Astrid hated the Gallery.

The climate-controlled villa was a reprieve from the dense, nocturnal marine humidity of Madripoor. The side-gate and front door had quietly unlocked for her, sweat wicking from the bridge of her nose and nape of her neck as she stepped over the threshold and into the chilled air, navigating the quiet hallways with experienced familiarity.

Even years later, something about the place still grated on her- quietly gathering under her skin and congealing into a twitch of her fingers and the urge to break something.

Astrid swallowed it down. Her greed would make room to tolerate it- devouring anything that fed it.

Once she had something to aim for, everything else was secondary.

The hardened soles of her boots tapped against the charcoal tile. Drifting with slow, rotating steps as she typed on her phone, hammering out another forum post, Astrid felt the quiet of the empty hall press in against her as she waited.

The main hall was dimly lit. Partitioned by dozens of tall glass display cases forming corridors across the floor, each box was floodlit with LED frames of clean white light, suspending their wares in the darkness.

Despite the museum-grade display- at a quick glance, Astrid estimated that she was standing in the midst of a few hundred million USD- the exhibition resembled a nightclub more than a showroom. A fully stocked bar was built out from the far wall, bottles and liquors set aglow on shelves against butterscotch-golden lights, a state-of-the-art sound system installed overhead, the glass in the cases designed to withstand the heavy bass of EDM. From her visits to the Gallery during opening hours, Astrid had the impression that most of its clientele treated it as just another venue of entertainment; like a clear-topped shark aquarium installed under a dancefloor, or blood sports hosted in basement rooms, or experimental party drugs in candy bowls, the Gallery’s gimmick was the ability to order your next drink with a side of illicitly traded artwork.

It was empty for tonight.

She sighed, stretching her neck, and hit the publish button, before tucking her phone away.

Astrid half-wished that she was in the Brass Monkey instead.

The bar was a hub, a bureau of exchange and centre of information. It was a foothold that she had chiselled herself into early on, through months of work and whoring out her services and placing the right information in the right place at the right time- eventually earning an off-menu drink at the Saloon with her namesake, doubling as a method to contact her, if ordered with the right code phrase. Astrid had become a product that would earn the Saloon money; conversely, the Saloon was a rich resource for Astrid to exploit.

But the modus operandi of this client had changed, precluding any meetings out in the open. Astrid had decided not to begrudge it- not when she intended to wring it for every advantage she could get, anyway.

A set of footsteps sounded from behind her, sharper than her own, the snap signalling a pair of classic high heels.

Astrid turned her head to greet them, her body following its turn like a fouetté.

The woman breezing towards her was tall, slender, serene as lilies and polished to an edge. While they were both dressed in monochrome black, Astrid was dressed for the streets, light enough for the heat and sturdy enough for a fight- slim-fit jeans, a cotton camisole, leather jacket, and a scuffed steel-capped boots designed for wildland firefighters, her platinum hair wrapped up and secured with a few steel pins. By direct contrast, her client’s willowy frame was draped in a pair of gauzy palazzo trousers and a sleeveless blouse, capped off with a pair of iconic, red-soled Louboutins. A triple-row of diamond studs glinted in her earlobes, sharp against her dark, cool-toned skin, fine black tresses gathered up into a sleek chignon.

The dirt from clawing her way up from the streets had long been scrubbed from beneath her French-tip fingernails, buffed out and resolved into political-socialite glamour.

Astrid did not like the Gallery, but she did like Ophelia Sarkissian- redoubtable social-climbing bitch in Prada that she was.

Although they really should have another conversation on how designer label was not synonymous with prestige or quality. Ophelia owned a few too many Birkens to be respectable.

With a mostly genuine smile, Ophelia greeted her in a cloud of subtle perfume, sliding an arm around Astrid’s waist with nonchalant familiarity.

“Come on,” she said, “I know you hate this place.”

Astrid exhaled a laugh, noiseless and appreciative, letting herself be pulled along.

Their relationship may have been transactional, but they were still friendly. Astrid enjoyed Ophelia’s shamelessness; Ophelia liked Astrid’s casual confidence.

Ophelia steered her through to the private wing of the villa, away from the exhibition room. Beyond the show floor, the rooms became high-ceilinged and clad in clean white and golden oak; separated less by solid walls and more by tall glass-paned doors, it had the neutral gloss of a pied-à-terre or hotel suite, complete with brass clothing porters and florist-arranged vases. The décor was vacuous, flavourless as high-end vodka, but it was a little less obnoxious about it. The French doors were left ajar to the darkness of the gardens and outbursts of summer storms, and the cold pretence of domesticity, smooth as nail polish, tasted truer to Ophelia than the exhibition room.

The Gallery was not a business that she had founded. It was acquired, along with her crown- with Astrid as her kingmaker.

Without breaking stride, Ophelia led them through to a familiar sunken lounge. A full Western tea service had been arranged on the coffee table; Astrid immediately recognised the porcelain- trios of cups, saucers, and dessert plates in glazed white and vivid teal, the rims painted with dainty ivy-vine gold scrolling- as the Coalport set that she had authenticated for Ophelia as a personal favour, shortly after she had consolidated control over the Gallery. The silver, however, was new. Dramatically sculpted, faceted and delicately engraved, it was comprised of a tall kettle and stand, teapot, coffee server, creamer and sugar pot, imposing and imperious, complete with an etched mirror-polished tray, matching sets of filigree-wrought tongs, and gilded fruit forks.

Magpie.

She couldn’t be too snide. She knew where Ophelia’s compulsion to collect things came from, and it was far more sympathetic than her own idle materialism.

Ophelia pulled off her heels with a sigh, letting them clatter to the hardwood floor unceremoniously, padding over to one of dive-grey corner sofas.

“Tea or coffee?”

Taking a seat across from her, Astrid pulled each row of her laces slack, stepping on the backs of her heels to loosen the boots.

“Coffee. You’re not my only appointment.”

With a soft noise of approval, Ophelia reached for the tall server. She poured a clear, dark ribbon of espresso into one of the coffee cups- the strength of the brew turning Astrid’s stomach for a moment- before adding a few cubes of sugar and dousing it in milk, in a series of clean, efficient motions.

“Busy bee,” she commented, sliding the cup across to Astrid on its saucer. “You must be glad to be back.”

Astrid slipped her fingers into the delicate handle and lifted the coffee can to her lips, taking a sip, the bittersweet cooled latte melting across her tongue.

“No rest for the wicked.” She said, slanting into her seat and gazing into the silverware. “And I’ve been sitting still for long enough.”

She rarely drank coffee. It always seemed ungracious to refuse, though, when Ophelia specifically stocked a few roasts that didn’t leave her feeling nauseous and never commented on how her tastes turned it into a drinkable dessert- despite Ophelia being an insufferable connoisseur of blends and flavour profiles and brewing techniques.

On the other hand, Astrid had once eaten instant coffee grounds with a spoon.

Her father had caught her at the island counter- wrung out from exams and compressed study and a lack of sleep, running out of matcha powder at the last minute- and confiscated the jar, shoving her to bed with a cup of chamomile tea dosed with a sleeping spell.

That had been an undignified morning.

It was going to be a similar kind of hell-week, she suspected.

“Eighteen thirty-five, by the way,” Astrid remarked from over the rim of her cup.

Ophelia paused, leaning over to the cake stand, floral-scalloped tongs in hand.

“The coffee service,” she elucidated, setting her cup in its saucer with a gentle clink. “William Bateman and Daniel Ball. The tea service is from eighteen forty-three. Joseph and George Angell. All wrought solid English silver, gilded interiors, original chasing, no significant repairs. The forks are eighteen forty-nine, silver gilt, Aaron Hadfield. Good condition, similar era.”

After a moment, Ophelia settled back in her seat, the corner of her unpainted mouth ticking up.

Astrid shrugged.

“An apology. For taking such a long hiatus on short notice.”

Nose crinkling charmingly, Ophelia swung forward, setting a plate piled high with confections- vanilla madeleines, gloss-shelled pastel macarons, shard-like cardamom biscotti- on Astrid’s side of the table.

“You came to see me first,” she said, almost warmly, “no apology needed.”

Astrid smiled mildly, editing down her smirk.

As expected of the Power Broker.

Ophelia knew the power of information better than almost anyone else in the entire city, keeping the threads wrapped around her fingertips and effecting a shift with the slightest tense and twitch. It was why she had kept Astrid on side, all these years- and why she would have been watching for her return.

“How was your sojourn, anyway?” Ophelia asked, her expression just slightly too sharp, dipping a biscotti into her espresso. “Productive?”

Astrid skimmed the gilded rim of her coffee cup with a fingertip.

“Enlightening,” she conceded, soft as muslin, tilting her head. “Actually- I have a recommendation, based on what I observed while I was there. If you’re interested.”

“And what’ll it cost me?” Ophelia asked teasingly.

“Serious consideration,” Astrid replied evenly, “no more, no less.”

She sat up slightly, sobering.

“Well, now I’m worried. You rarely give out freebies unless you’re in a very good mood.” Ophelia cocked an eyebrow, lifting her demitasse cup in a half-toast. “Or if it’s going to benefit you somewhere down the line.”

“Hmn.”

Astrid denied nothing. Taking a pistachio macaron, she sat back in her seat, lifting her eyes to Ophelia with a steady blink.

“Cut ties with the serpent. That is my advice.”

Ophelia stilled, eyes fixed into nothing.

It was like watching a predator that had caught the scent of another predator.

“That,” she said, measured and calculating, “is a very lucrative investment.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Astrid took a bite of the macaron, the light, chewy honeycomb interior disintegrating in her mouth. “But smart investors tend sell their stock before the market crash.”

That gave Ophelia pause.

“Is it going to?” She asked shrewdly.

“Yes.”

“Are you going to make it crash?”

“Most likely not.”

“But you’ll profit off it.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Exhaling sharply, Ophelia flicked her head aside, breaking into a bright smile.

“I’ve missed this,” she admitted. “You always say what you mean.”

“And you never wonder why?”

“Please, I already know you’re self-interested, Thia. It’s why I like doing business with you. You say what you say to get what you want. I know that. And anyway- all I need to do is ask if you’re trying to screw me over.”

Astrid felt herself relax, slowly easing back into her seat.

She had almost forgotten what it was like, negotiating with someone who knew and acknowledged the conditions binding her, and played the game accordingly.

“Then are you going to ask?”

Ophelia’s expression slackened, exasperated.

“Are you going to screw me over?”

“No.” Astrid said simply, taking another draught of her latte. “The opposite.”

She hitched an eyebrow.

“Does this mean I’m going to be indebted to you?”

“You mean more indebted?”

Ophelia’s beautiful features hardened slightly.

“I hadn’t forgotten,” she said coolly.

Astrid smiled placatingly, clement as sunlight streaming through stained glass.

It hadn’t been a threat, or even a reminder, just a statement of fact.

“I know,” she said gently. “And haven’t I always made it worth your while, being indebted to me?”

Astrid watched her defensiveness unspool, slowly.

“You’ve been a dream come true,” Ophelia admitted. “Considering the things you want, and the things you have no interest in. You’re so fair that I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or maybe a guillotine.”

Astrid laughed aloud.

“And take that useful head of yours? Why would I do that? I gain nothing by destroying you, Ophie.”

So please don’t change that. It would inconvenience us both.

With a resigned press of her jaw, masquerading as a phantom smile, Ophelia shrugged.

“And I gain nothing by making an enemy of you,” she conceded on a faintly grudging exhale. “I would just prefer to know the price I’m due to repay.”

“Ah-huh.” Astrid fixed her with a piercing look, burning. “And whatever happened to being willing to take a risk? Or are you refusing your own counsel?”

Ophelia’s cheek twitched.

It was the exact phrasing that Ophelia had used, long ago, when she had asked Astrid to back her in her coup. Astrid had pointed out that she had far more to lose, in the event of failure, than she ever stood to gain in the event of success, and Ophelia had given her killer smile as she asked if such a thing would prevent the audacious Alethia from taking a gamble.

Ophelia melted into a pout.

“Give me a clue, Thia.”

Astrid twitched her shoulder, taking a drink of coffee.

“If you are the woman that I think you are, this won’t ruin you.”

“Is that flattery?”

“I don’t lie.”

“You don’t threaten either.” Ophelia acknowledged, setting aside her empty demitasse cup. “Alright. Say I’m open to the suggestion. How much will it cost me? Cutting ties?”

“Less than it would cost if you didn’t.” Astrid met her gaze. “There will be opportunities to recoup. Especially given your career ambitions.”

The corner of her eye twitched.

“And if I don’t cut ties?”

“I wouldn’t have to do anything to make it hurt.”

For a long moment, Ophelia simply looked at her.

“Well,” she mused casually, “I suppose they are bastards.”

And that was what Astrid liked about Ophelia. She was perfectly capable of doing good, when the contrary wasn’t sufficiently profitable.

It was why she would make for an excellent politician.

“I can vouch for that,” Astrid said. “Not that you require it, I’m sure.”

“I thought your problem was with the eagle?”

“I can hate two things at the same time.”

Ophelia snorted in amusement.

“You are a multitasker,” she teased.

“Mm. Speaking of which.” Astrid leaned forward to set her dessert plate aside. “I know that you probably found another authenticator while I was on leave, but- if you held anything back in the vault, I can take a look at them now.”

Ophelia’s brows lifted. “Oh? I thought I wasn’t your last appointment?”

“The others can wait.”

She smirked, reaching for her phone.

“Why, colour me touched.”

Before Astrid could make a reply, she was tapping out a summons to her team, sending it with a flourish of her thumb.

“We do have a few obscure ones- the kind with fewer experts who can verify them, so it’s been too great a risk to send them out until we were certain. But Fliss just kept sourcing them, and I just couldn’t say no, and I decided that when you got back, I could just- ah. Actually,” Ophelia looked up, “I haven’t said it yet, have I?”

“Hm?”

She smiled, the gesture lifting the corners of her eyes.

When the words left her mouth, Astrid realised that Ophelia was mostly sincere.

“Welcome back, Thia.”

-

After leaving the Gallery, Astrid returned to the penthouse lounge. With only the cool, ambient cast of a sea of glittering light beyond uncovered windows to see by, she took out a small notebook, and made an addition to her list.

New shoes.

-

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[jaspavca]

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[universalimagines]

Strangers on a Starship (Part 1)

WARNING: Possible Triggering Content in this Story

So I’ve had this idea for a multi part La’an/Spock story for a minute and I’ve now decided to write it out. FYI this story will be dark and might contain content that’s triggering for some people so just be warned.

Jenna Mitchell usually liked the calmer missions. They gave her time to catch up on her reading and they weren’t getting shot at, boarded or drawn into complex drama. But the quiet ones always came with a catch. Usually that catch was boredom or a surprise shooting battle at the worst time. Today it was worse though. Power was fluctuating across the ship, internal sensors were down across entire decks and engineering was having a hard time keeping up with all the malfunctions.

That had translated into two problems for Jenna. First, it meant doing anything on her off hours that required power impossible. The lights would keep going off at the worst moments meaning she couldn’t ever enjoy her book. Second, the cascading level of the issue had meant that Chief Hemmer had drafted anyone who’d scored higher than an 80% on their engineering exams to aide in keeping up with the busted relays. And of course, Jenna had scored an 83% in Engineering which meant she’d been one of the unlucky draftees.

That was what lead to her to her current predicament. Stuck in the access tubes at 2300 fixing a relay that had knocked out power to the crew lounge. She’d been sent there after a mountain of complaints from the crew there had annoyed Hemmer enough to send someone down to fix it.

She’d arrived with a tool kit to hear the constant gripes of the crew about spoiled food or drinks without any buzz to them. She silently cursed them as she walked behind the kitchen and climbed the tube into the service tunnel that fed power into that section.

The light was out in that section of the tunnels as she walked around looking for the bad relays. She hoped that she could find the damaged one quickly. Repairing a busted relay or replacing it was a simple job but finding it was often more luck. The damage to the relays she’d seen hadn’t all be done the same way. Sometimes the damaged relays were obvious with sparking and fried wires. Other times the wires looked no different that the good ones and she’s had to check each relay to find the bad ones, which would take hours.

Today she was lucky though. She saw the broken relay quickly, since the relay was sparking and adding some small illumination to the hallway. Jenna quickly shut off power to the relay. Behind her in the lounge, she could hear the groans and gripes of the crew no doubt annoyed that their lounge was dark on top of not able to serve them food anymore.

With the power offline, she extracted the busted relay from the wall and put it down as she picked up a fresh one from the tool kit. She inserted the new relay into the wall and ran a final check with her scanner to make sure she’d installed it right before she turned power back on.

The scanner reported that all was good, so she put the scanner on her hip as she prepared to reengage the power. Just then, her scanner beeped loudly causing her heart to skip a beat. She looked at the scanner results.

“SCANNED OBJECT: DAMAGED RELAY”

"ANALYSIS: DAMAGE NOT CONSISTENT WITH OVERBLOWN FUSES. 95% LIKELYHOOD DAMAGE CAUSED BY DIRECT PHASER FIRE.”

Jenna had to reread the report to make sure she’d seen what she thought.

“What the hell-“ Jenna began before she felt something grab her from behind and slam her into the wall. The hit disoriented her and messed with her vision. She then felt herself get thrown again. The second throw caused her shoulder to impact on the hallway before falling to the floor. Jenna thought she’d felt something break as she tried to recover and crawl away. Her attacker straddled her, pinning her body and head to the ground so she couldn’t move nor could she see her attacker.

But one of her arms was still free and close by, was one of the tools in the kit. Using all of her remaining strength she swung the tool and felt the item make contact with what she assumed was her attackers head.

But her attacker barely flinched and within seconds was back on the offensive. Her attacker backhanded her hard cutting her lip in the process. Disoriented, Jenna could barely put up any resistance as her attacker grabbed her neck and lifted her to her knees. With both hands, her attacker slammed her head into the bulkhead, hard.

Jenna was slumped against the bulkhead wall, blood trickling from her head. She could feel the pain in her body numbing as she slowly started to lose consciousness. She started to feel her body move without her input. It took a great deal of energy for her to realize her attacker was dragging her. Eventually the attacker stopped dragging her, leaving her sprawled out on the floor. By now, Jenna ability to remain conscious was waning. The last thing Jenna remembered as her vision went black was a hand raising up her shirt, and the feeling of utter revulsion.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Captain Pike had just finished his shift on the bridge and had left Ortegas in the Chair while he got some sleep. As he made his way down the hallways to his quarters, he noticed that there was a rather large and angry crowd handing around the crew lounge, which was now in pitch black.

As he marched inside, he saw that some of the crew were using their own flashlights to create some kind of light for the room. He spotted LT Sam Kirk sitting down with Cadet Uhura and Nurse Chapel having a chat.

“Hey guys.” Pike smiled as he approached them. All three got up from their seats in a sign of respect. Pike gave them both a hand indicating they could sit back down again. “What’s going on?”

“Power’s been intermittent for a bit now.” Sam answered. “The complainers finally irritated Hemmer enough that he sent someone down to repair it.” He then gestured to the room. “But as you can see, they haven’t finished yet.”

“Yeah.” Pike admitted having figured out where the annoyance was coming from. “Who did Hemmer send.”

“LT Jenna Mitchell sir.” Uhura added.

Pike frowned. Mitchell was competent at repairing relays since she’d been drafted to help. Plus, she wasn’t an egoist. If the job was above her skill level, she’d have asked for help by now.

“She has been down there a minute, hasn’t she?” Chapel added. “What could be taking so long?”

“How long has she been down there?” Pike asked.

Sam looked at his watch and frowned too. “Over an hour.”

The four officers all shared a look of concern. “Maybe we should check on her?” Uhura offered. “Make sure she’s good?”

“Officer thinking Cadet.” Pike smiled. The group got up from their seats and went to the back room where the access tube was.

Pike pressed the button to the hatch only to find it wouldn’t respond. He gestured to Sam as both men pulled on opposite ends to the door leading into the service hall, finally opening it up.

By now, the crowd had gotten angry. “Will someone light a fire under that dumbass engineering sent to fix this place?” Someone had whined out.

Christine and Uhura both nodded heads at each other and went into straight crisis management mode. “Hey, take a breath guy.” Chapel began. “We’re all have the same goals here. Fix the problem so life goes back to normal. Yelling at a fellow officer won’t get it done faster.”

“Plus, I know the officer they sent.” Uhura added. “if it’s taken this long it must be a serious issue. I’m sure she’s doing her best.”

Pike nodded back at Chapel, smiling at her skill as defusing situations. He and Sam headed into the hallway confident that Chapel and Uhura could hold the masses at bay till they found out what had happened.

The pair walked into the hallway until they found Jenna’s toolbox on the ground. “Well, this must be the relay she was working on.” Pike state.

“Looks finished too.” Sam remarked as he pulled up the damaged relay she’d removed. “So why didn’t she turn the power back on?” Sam pointed to the nearby relay that had been turned off.

Pike rubbed his chin in confusion. “Not sure…” Pike started observing the relay closer, trying to see if there was something in it that might explain where Jenna was. “I’d say she went to repair another relay but the why did she leave her tool bag?”

“Sir…” Sam said softly pointing to a section of the wall. When Pike looked there, he saw something that made his tension rise. Right on the wall at eye level was a red stain. He put his fingers up to it feeling the soft liquid. He could tell instantly the liquid was blood… human blood.

The pair silently turned down the corridor raising their lights to shine a path down the dark passage. Nearing a corner that led into two separate paths, the pair each decided to take a different direction and remaining at full alert.

Sam had gone left and was shining his light down the hallway when he noticed something out of place. Hidden hastily in the wall panels was a tool Sam recognized as one belonging to an engineer’s kit, but this tool had blood on its head. Sam was eyeing the tool when out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something. It took him a second to comprehend that what he saw was indeed the truth and not a nightmare. It was Jenna.

She was lying flat on the floor, unconscious. Sam’s cursory examination informed him that she had been attacked. Her uniform was in tatters and barely hanging off her body, having been torn in several places exposing large portions of her chest, back, hips and legs. In each location where her skin was exposed, her skin was marred with scrapes and bruises. Finally, her head had a terrible gash on the back and side covered in dried blood and there were thick bruises on her neck.

“Chris!” Sam yelled down the hallway. “I found her!”

Chris sped down the hallway less than a minute later. He too stopped in his tracks when he saw what Sam had. “She barely has a pulse.” Sam breathed out.

“MEDIC!” Pike screamed down the hall at the top of his lungs.

The two men rolled Jenna onto her back searching for signs of life-threatening injuries. They had just finished examining her when Chapel showed up, clearly having sprinted the whole way there. Chapel took quick stock of the situation and got to work assessing the wounded officer.

She dropped her head down by Jenna’s head to try and hear her breathing then moved her hands along the wounded officer’s body. “Airways not obstructed. No signs of major bleeding. But this head wound worries me. We need to get her to sick bay.”

“The malfunctions have been messing with the transporter.” Sam admitted. “We’ll need to take her straight there.”

“Sam, run ahead and see if you can find something we can cover her with.” Chapel ordered, hoping to ensure they could protect her modesty as well.

Sam nodded and sprinted off while Pike pulled out his communicator. “Pike to Bridge. Send security personnel to lock down the crew lounge and all routes into the service hatch on that level.”

“Yes sir.” Ortegas replied, her voice not hiding the shock of the request.

Sam was back within a minute with a blanket that had been draped over one of the couches in the lounge. Chapel quickly covered Mitchell’s unconscious body with the blanket and secured it to her so whoever carried her wouldn’t trip.

Pike then gave his comms to Chapel as he gently lifted Jenna’s unconscious body up, careful to avoid moving her head too much.

“Chapel to sick bay.” Chapel called into the comms. “We’re got a seriously injured crewman on deck 3. Head trauma, significant lacerations and blunt force trauma. We’re coming to you.”

The group exited the service corridor and began a breakneck sprint to sick bay, ignoring the looks of shock in the crew as they ran by.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Spock and La’an were together aboard the shuttle Galileo as it made its final approach to the Enterprise. The pair had been off ship aiding a Federation outpost in getting their defense grid established by helping them work through several bugs that had caused the grid to short out.

“Last time I agree to help anyone set up defense grids.” La’an groaned, her impatience with their completed mission evident.

“Perhaps next time we take part in such an operation we will remember to ask the staff how many experiments they are running and how much power they are draining from the grid.” Spock replied back.

“Next time?” La’an gasped. “Oh no. I am never taking part in any mission where I have to teach officers who’ve never even held a phaser how to set up remote phase cannon turrets and shield generators.”

“You are the ship’s chief of security.” Spock pointed out. “Is there anyone else on the ship with you knowledge of weapons and defensive systems?”

“You know you could’ve set the whole grid up by yourself.” La’an offered.

“Perhaps.” Spock stated “But Captain Pike does not like sending officers out alone on away missions. If you refused to accompany me. The Captain would’ve insisted I travel with LT Ortegas or perhaps even Nurse Chapel.”

The thought of Spock flying off alone with Christine Chapel sent a feeling La’an couldn’t describe into her head. Since their mind meld when facing the Gorn, Spock had been on the forefront of her mind more often than she liked to admit.

She was pulled from her thoughts when Spock spoke. “Curious. We have been within range of Enterprise for several minutes now and they have yet to respond to my hails.”

La’an immediately adopted a serious expression. The crew was usually on top of their game and not responding once in range was red flag in La’an mind. She’d hoped they’d just caught Uhura or Christina asleep at the comms but she knew that was wishful thinking.

Spock reached out on comms again and this time he got a response. Before he could even speak, a hard voice came through. “Shuttlecraft Galileo, proceed to docking immediately. LTs Spock and Noonien-Singh, proceed to sickbay upon arrival.”

The pair looked at each with similar expressions of confusion before they piloted the shuttle into the docking bay.

Once on board, the pair had rushed to sickbay to find Captain Pike, Nurse Chapel and Doctor M’Benga huddled around engaged in a deep and tense conversation. In the back, Spock could see that one of the private patient suites was active and likely occupied.

“Captain.” Spock announced himself as he and La’an came to a stop by the group.

“Spock, La’an.” Pike sighed, his voice tight with tension and grief. Spock recognized this as the same tension that dominated his mind whenever they’d learned about the loss of crewman. “We’ve got a serious situation here, one that is going to shake the crew when the scuttlebutt gets loose. LT Mitchell… Jenna… She was raped.”

Both La’an and Spock, though normally stoic and hard individuals were shaken by this announcement. While outwardly, they appeared only slightly more tense than usual, those who knew the two officers could see the tension, anger and sadness displayed in their subtle actions. Spock, who normally stood at perfect parade rest started shuffling on his feet and the clasp hands behind his back had tightened. La’an meanwhile had balled her hands into fists and her facial muscles tightened as her anger rose to the surface.

“Do we know who was responsible?” La’an asked, her voice tight in anger, waiting for a target to unleash it on.

“No.” Doctor M’Benga whispered. “She was brought in unconscious a few hours ago and she has yet to awaken.”

“Plus her attacker didn’t leave any DNA behind.” Chapel added.

“Where did the attack take place?” Spock asked, his focus trying to shift to solving this brutal act.

“The conduit tunnels that connect to the crew lounge.” Pike answered. “Security is currently holding all the entrances to the conduits sealed along with all personnel present at the lounge.”

La’an looked at Pike seeing where he was going. “Sir, are you looking to make us the primary investigators for this case?”

Pike nodded. “With internal sensors crashing ship wide, I need someone to investigate who is bot someone I trust and had an airtight alibi, which both of you have.”

Pike pulled out his PADD and handed it to La’an. “This investigation takes priority over everything LTs.” He explained them. “Pass off your other tasks to your teams. The crew wont sleep easy till this case is resolved.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

La’an had returned briefly to her quarters in order to change into a fresh uniform and grab a quick cup of coffee before she went right back to work.

As La’an removed her uniform, her shirt got briefly stuck in her hair as she removed it. In frustration, she slammed the shirt into her couch.

La’an could already tell this investigation was going to be a hard one. Not because of the difficulty of the case but because how close to home it would strike. La’an didn’t have many friends on the Enterprise but she’d recently counted Jenna in that list. At first, the two hadn’t gotten along. Jenna was always too optimistic for La’an’s taste but overtime the pair had developed a friendship. As La’an had started to open herself up to the crew, Jenna had been one of the first to include in group get togethers including those involving Chapel, Ortegas and Nyota. To hear that such a kind soul had been violated in such a horrid way was crushing to her.

But her anger stream was broken was the sound of an incoming message on her console. Not bothering to put on a new shirt over her sports bra, La’an walked over to the console and pulled up the message.

The message was a repeating spoken sentence, in a voice that sounded like a busted computer. But the words sent a chill down La’an spine.

“That’s one. More to come. When I’m done, I think you’ll be fun.”

[lit-works]

The Fantastic Four - negativity trilogy

End of Book 1 : Warlords of Baluur

Chapter 6 : The Living Bombburst

The alien pod streaked ahead of them, traveling much faster than the Brave. It looked as though they had lost it, when they received a call from Nick Fury. "We've been tracking the escape pod," he said. "It landed at a construction site in Lower Manhattan near the World Trade Center. I'm relaying the exact coordinates to your ship's computer.

"Hold everything! We've just intercepted a transmission between the pod and the mother ship. Blastaar was in the pod! He has found something called 'The Cosmic Control Rod'. You'd better get to Blastaar before he escapes!"

-

It was late at night. The glass and steel skeleton of a partially constructed skyscraper rose high into the air.

A flash of light at the top grabbed the attention. Standing in the whipping wind was the awesome form of Blastaar, The Living Bombburst!

With a swipe of his powerful arm, he knocked a man wearing a dark business suit into the shadows behind a stack of crates. Blastaar raised something high, as a brilliant cloak of energy engulfed his body. With a triumphant bellow, he shouted, "The Cosmic Control Rod is mine!"

The Skyscraper stood 50 feet tall, only the lowest five floors were finished. Those above were simply a network of steel girders without windows, walls, or floors. A service elevator ran around the side of the building.

Before attacking them, Blastaar taunted the Fantastic Four, "So! You weaklings think you can stop me! Now that I have the Cosmic Control Rod, the entire cosmos will quake with fear!" He then used the powers of the rod to battle the F4.

Much of the top story was without solid floor and there were many places where one could fall through. A number of loose steel girders lied on the top floor, also on the roof were several crates of construction materials and tools which were broken into kindling and scrap metal by The Thing as weapons against Blastaar.

The mysterious man in the dark business suit was Lew Shiner. Before his death and subsequent rebirth, Lew worked in the demolition business. Tormented by his bizarre existence to the point of madness, Lew found a strange sense of comfort and familiarity while at the construction site. He spent most of his nights secluded on the top floor of the building, trying to fathom all the intricacies of the Cosmic Control Rod. Lew was surprised by Blastaar, who wrestled the rod away from him. While hidden behind the crates, he watched the battle between the Fantastic Four and Blastaar.

After the Fantastic Four defeated Blastaar and recovered the Cosmic Control Rod, Lew Shiner moaned pitifully and pleased for help. "Please," he cried. "Help! I'm dying! Only the energy of the Cosmic Control Rod can save me. I'm begging you, please let me grasp it for just a moment."

When it was forfeited to the man, he used it to escape after shifting into an alien form. Lew Shiner was truly Stygorr.

-

After capture, Blastaar was turned over to the Vault, a SHIELD-designed maximum security installation designed for incarcerating super-powefed individuals. The Flagship retreated into the Negative Zone via gateway after the defeat of their leader and the threatening of return to free their lord Blastaar. Stygorr's gateway was no longer growing, and no longer posed any threat of swallowing earth. If the Cosmic Control Rod has been retained, it could have been used to completely seal the gateway, but since it had not, who knew what creatures mught fome to pass throufh it from The Negative Zone.

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[makmore]

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[jonathanbossenger]

The Dreamscape

Prologue

It was a little after midnight. Bob, the security guard, sat down, took a sip of his coffee, and turned the smallest monitor in front of him on. The entire wall was covered with monitors of differing sizes, feeding video streams from the various cameras installed throughout the warehouse, but one was dedicated to the local satellite television service. 

Bob had never understood why a warehouse of empty storage crates might need that many security cameras, but the salary was good. As a night owl, late-night security was the perfect career for him, and keeping an eye on the security screens in this warehouse was easily the best job he’d ever had. Nothing ever happened. 

In the top left corner of the monitor bank, a blur of motion caught his attention. He turned to look, but the monitor just showed an empty corner of the warehouse. Shrugging, he turned back to the game. As he did, two more blurs shot across the screen. 

***

Shit!

John was out of breath! He’d managed to get so far on luck and willpower, but he was running out of both. He sat upright against the crate, trying to catch his breath when he heard a noise no more than a few meters away from him. 

Shit!

They must have caught up with him when he stopped for something to drink at the local corner store. He was sure he had lost them, but when he turned the corner towards the warehouse he was positive he’d heard someone snigger. When he turned he saw nothing, but it was enough to make him nervous enough to break into a jog. By the time he reached the warehouse, he was sure they were behind him. He’d heard a low growl, followed by a chuckle, which he was almost sure was Exhibit A’s signature noise. At that point he broke into a sprint, and cleared the wall with a single jump, running towards the nearest door. When he heard two almost inaudible thuds behind him, the sounds of padded feet making the same jump he’d just done, he knew they were behind him. 

Shit!

He was out of options now. He’d managed to get inside the warehouse, but the only way out was the only way he could not take, or he’d show his hand. At this point, no one else besides Kenji knew that he could make a jump, and he wanted to keep it that way. 

Then, from off to his left, he heard the sound of a sabre igniting. He knew Exhibit A was too feral to use a weapon of any kind, so that meant Exhibit B! While Exhibit A was a ferocious monster who’d rip his limbs from his body, Exhibit B worried him far more. Exhibit B would want to capture him, torture him, drag it out until he’d extracted every little bit of information from him, and then feed him to Exhibit A.

Shitshitshitshit!

He had one shot at doing this right. Digging into the recesses of his jacket pockets, he took out the small, flat coin-like object Kenji had given him when they last saw each other. He had no idea what it would do, but he knew he didn't have any other choice. Doing a quick triangulation calculation, he threw the coin back and to the left, close his eyes, and counted.

1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi, 3 Mississippi, 4!

There was a sudden flash of light, and someone screamed. It sounded feral, so he figured it must have connected with Exhibit A, but it should be enough to distract Exhibit B as well. He could hear the screaming continue and the sounds of someone running toward the commotion, away from him. 

Directing his attention to the air in front of him, he focused his energies on Kenji’s last known location. Suddenly, a bright blue light in front of him appeared, circular in shape, as if a bright blue drop of the show had suddenly materialised. It grew larger and larger, a blue outline  surrounding a wavering black oily film. It looked almost like a CGI rendition of a black hole, which wasn't far off from what it actually was. 

Judging its size to be around right, and with the noise behind him starting to subside, John swore under his breath again and jumped. 

***

[mythologyfolklore]

Baldr in Hel - Ch. 06

Baldr's POV

Ganglöt and Ganglati objected to having to accompany their mistress and Baldr to Angrboða's abode, which turned out to be because she had her home in a high tower at the other end of Hel's castle.

But Hel was resolute, much to their chagrin.

“Why can't you at least install a lift?”, Ganglöt complained.

“Or tubes and trains?”, added Ganglati.

Hel rolled her eyes. “You already asked me that a month ago. I told you then and I will tell you again, the transport services are still under construction. End of the discussion.”

And so the two gave up and resigned themselves to the fact, that they would have to follow the queen the long way to the top of her mother's tower.

Baldr felt bad for the elderly couple.

“I can carry you, when you're too tired”, he offered.

Ganglöt giggled in amusement. “My, such a gentleman! But no, thank you. We have always managed just fine in the past. As long as you walk slowly enough for us to keep up, we'll be fine.”

The Bright One shrugged. “Alright. But my offer stands.”

.

Nanna had insisted on accompanying them.

Partly, because she didn't want to stay behind all by herself, but mostly – she claimed – because someone would have to distract Baldr from the creepy surroundings, if he got scared.

Hel had laughed, but agreed to take her with them.

“You're just spooked by the howling of my dog”, she teased.

“Am not!”, Nanna huffed.

Either way, the brunette goddess was coming along.

Turned out, the way to Angrboða's home was long indeed.

The group of five walked through dark and fluorescing hallways.

After half an hour of walking, Nanna asked: “Why are the hallways in this castle so big? Could it be, that you have a thing for Gothic architecture?”

Hel, who was walking in front of them, paused.

When she faced Nanna, Baldr was surprised to see a sheepish expression on her face.

“I'm claustrophobic”, the Queen of the Dead confessed.

Nanna smiled: “Oh, I see. Don't worry. That's nothing to be embarrassed about. I'm asking, because I've been noticing a trend. Besides, I used to be agoraphobic as a child. I grew out of it, when I came to Asgarðr in Freyja's entourage. I mean, I had to. Asgarðr has so many wide places and streets.”

“Freyja's entourage? So you're a Vana?”, Ganglati asked. “I wouldn't have guessed! Though, to be fair, I have never seen a Vana before.”

Nanna just shrugged in response. “Yeah, most people think all Vanir are blond. Anyway”, she turned back to Hel, “thanks for telling me. I appreciate the trust.”

Hel gave her a warm half smile, before pointing toward the other end of the hallway. “Let's keep going. I want to be back before lunch. Remember, Hermóðr will arrive around three pm.”

Now Nanna was the one to stop dead in her tracks. “What?”, she breathed as all colour drained from her face.

Her shock caused Hel to blink in confusion. Then her right eye widened in realisation. “Shit! I forgot to tell you, that your former lover is coming to negotiate your and Baldr's release!” She tore at the blonde parts of her hair and her left side turned skeletal from distress. “Fuck, how could this happen?! I never forget important stuff like-”

“Leave it be”, Nanna said tiredly. “At least now I won't be caught off-guard, when he shows up.”

“But still! This is horrible! I should have made sure-”

“Hel, stop. Let it go. Everybody makes mistakes. Don't wreck your head over it, okay? I'm not upset. Shocked and a bit bewildered by the news, yeah, but not upset. It'll be alright.”

Hel nodded (though her expression remained glum) and turned back to the corridor ahead.

They continued on their not so merry way and crossed the entire castle, until they reached a lone, narrow corridor.

It was eerie: deadly quiet, chilly and filled with thick ground fog. The walls didn't fluoresce and high windows were pointing northwards, so the blue fire from the torches was the only light (Baldr's own glow not included).

Normally Baldr liked the darkness just fine, but this here was just creepy.

So he went ahead and took the hands of Nanna and Hel.

“What's wrong?”, Nanna inquired. “I thought you're fine with the dark.”

“This is probably different from the darkness he's used to”, Hel assumed. “Are you afraid, Baldr?”

“A little”, he admitted. “In the rest of the castle, the Gothic architecture looks amazing and there is at least a little more light, because of the black sun and the fluorescing walls. Here it feels more like I'm in a gothic horror novel by Edgard Allan Poe. Or in some ancient city from a Lovecraft story- HOLY COW!”

With that scream, he let go of the women's hands and leaped back at least three metres. He had just nearly bumped into what had to be the scariest statue he had ever seen.

“Frick!”, he gasped. “If I wasn't already dead, I'd be having a heart attack right now! What is that thing???”

“It's a gargoyle”, Hel answered. “Nothing to be afraid of. The only thing it does is let water run into this drain.” She pointed at the small channel in the floor beneath the gargoyle's maw.

Baldr blinked. “Huh. I didn't notice that before.”

“Well, you were close to falling into the water”, she deadpanned. “Then you would have noticed.”

Nanna burst into laughter, Ganglöt and Ganglati were struggling not to giggle.

Baldr shrugged it off. This was just Hel being Hel.

At that moment, an icy gust of wind came from outside the windows, making them all shiver.

Ganglöt and Ganglati groaned and flexed their joined, making a cracking sound.

“Yeah, a lot of windows still need to be glazed”, Hel said. “But this castle is huge, so it takes ages. And none of the glaziers wants to come down here.”

“Can't say I blame them”, commented Nanna. “This place is the creepiest thing ever! Darkness, blue fires, ground fog, freezing wind that chills you to the bone … only thing missing is the howling of wolves or the cawing of ravens.”

At that moment the deepest, most resounding howl Baldr had ever heard came from outside and echoed through the corridor.

“There it is”, Nanna noted, while Baldr froze in terror and grabbed one of Hel's arms.

Only a minute after the howling died down, did Baldr finally whisper: “What the here was that?! That wasn't a normal wolf!”

“It wasn't”, Hel confirmed. “That was my dog Garmr. But don't worry. He wouldn't harm anyone, unless I command it.”

Baldr was almost relieved to see the solemn look in her right eye. No laughing, giggling or even smiling from her, nor from Nanna or the elderly servants.

That didn't make him less embarrassed though.

“Sorry”, he mumbled in shame and let go of Hel's arm.

But then he noticed, that Nanna seemed hardly affected. “Wait a minute! Why aren't you scared?”

“I am”, she smiled weakly. “It's just not the first time I hear it. I've already heard it several times, back when I had to shovel snow in the garden. It still scares the shit out of me, but it doesn't catch me by surprise anymore. This is what Hel meant earlier, when she teased me about being scared of her dog.”

“I'm sorry about that”, Hel told them. “But it's okay to be scared. I used to be afraid too, when I was younger. Not of the howling, but of everything else here.”

“That's true”, Ganglöt piped up. “Back when she was a little girl and had just been given jurisdiction over Niflheimr and Helheimr. The first times we brought her here, she clung to our arms and shook like a leaf. Poor, frightened little thing.”

“Does that mean you two have been here longer than her?”, Nanna asked the elderly couple.

Ganglati nodded. “Much longer. We're as old as mankind.”

“Wow!”

Baldr pondered.

As old as manking, huh? That meant they were among the oldest beings to still exist. Which made him wonder even more what exactly they were. But he would ask them about that later, because for now the five of them had another goal.

Right as he had finished that thought, another, much deeper and darker howl made him shiver and he clung to Hel's arm again.

“Don't be frightened”, she tried to soothe him. “That's just Fenrir.”

“Just Fenrir???”, Nanna exclaimed incredulously. “Are you seriously trying to convince us not to be scared of the Fenriswolf?! I know, he's your brother and all, but don't tell me to not be scared of a wolf the size of Mount Everest!”

“Actually, he's bigger than- okay, I'll stop”, Hel chuckled, when the Vana glowered at her. “Anyway, let's keep going. We've been dawdling for too long. And Baldr, please let go of my arm. It's the dead one, if you tug at it too much, you'll rip it off.”

He apologised and released her arm.

Hel just shrugged and continued walking.

Ganglati tugged at the sleeve of Baldr's shirt to get his attention.

“I'm surprised you don't mind touching Her Majesty's left arm”, the old man remarked.

Baldr caught on. “It's fine”, he assured the other. “I don't care about the state of her arm and hand. They're hers. That's all that matters to me.”

At those words, Hel whirled around and gawked at him. Her left side was lively and her ghostly white face was flushed pink.

The sight was so adorable, that Baldr blushed a little as well.

In the background Nanna and the elderly servants snickered into their hands. A stern look from Hel silenced them, though.

Eventually, they walked around a corner and Hel stopped in front of a giant door (hand-carved ebony and adorned with weird-looking reliefs, because of course it was).

She knocked thrice and the door opened by itself to reveal … nothing. Just black. But Hel snapped her fingers and a circular staircase appeared in front of them.

A staircase with … glowing stairs?

Okay, that was surreal. And creepy as Niflheimr.

The black light of the stairs was so dim, that Baldr outshone it.

However, the walls absorbed 100% of the light, so the stairs were the only thing visible. Which made it even creepier. Like they were ascending within a big, black void.

Out of instinct Baldr reached for Hel's hand. This time he caught the right one. And as soon as she gripped his own hand firmly, he calmed down considerably. She seemed to have that effect.

Unfortunately, the effect was ruined by what Hel said next: “Mind your steps, Baldr and Nanna. There are no walls. The stairs are wide and rough to prevent slipping, but-”

“What???”, Baldr yelped, making everyone wince.

“Uhm … sorry … it's just … so this is no staircase at all? Just stairs? And we could fall off? And then we'd be lost forever?”

“Or hit the far off ground and smash like eggs?”, added Nanna.

Hel shook her head. “Neither. You will fall for a while through the darkness, until you enter a magical mist. It will gradually slow down your fall, until you gently land on the ground. Then you wander aimlessly, surrounded by nothing but fog and the wailing of the damned. Of course I'd come to get you out, but by the time I find you, you might have … lost your mind? I'm not sure, it's been only once, that I had to retrieve someone from the Abysses of Despair.”

Baldr wasn't sure, if he should laugh or cry.

And judging by her face, neither was Nanna. She was clinging to Ganglöt like a leech.

“Just hang in there a little longer, you two. We just need to get to the top and then we're there”, Hel tried to cheer them up. “The stairs don't go on for much longer-”

“Speak for yourself, young lady!”, Ganglati reprimanded her. “My legs are killing me!”

“Same”, said Ganglöt.

Hel sweatdropped.

.

All of them were relieved, when they finally reached the top of the stairway and came to a big platform.

“There”, Baldr said and carefully set Ganglöt and Ganglati onto the floor.

He had carried them on his arms for the rest of the stairs, after they had complained about their legs.

After they adjusted their clothes, the old couple smiled at him broadly.

“Such a gentleman! And so strong!”, Ganglöt giggled. “A true shining knight!”

“That's true, I suppose”, chuckled Ganglati and gave Baldr a pat on the back. “Thank you, lad. Everyone says how good you are, but few would be so attentive as to gladly help an old couple up the stairs.”

The Ás blushed, but waved it off. “It's nothing. I did offer to carry you, if you grew tired, didn't I?”

“Still!”, Ganglöt insisted. “You didn't have to do that, but you did it anyway. Don't play down your kindness, young man. It's not as much of a given as it should be.”

“I-”

“He has a point there, you know”, Nanna spoke up. “You think people would have loved you as much as they did, if kindness was universal?”

To that the Bright One didn't know what to say.

“Is everyone here?”, Hel asked. “Ah, yes. Good. Come on. We're almost there.”

She strode towards an archway at the other end of the platform, crossed it and disappeared into the green fog behind it.

The two elderly servants followed her, but unlike their mistress stopped to wait for the dead deities.

“Go in”, Ganglöt encouraged them.

Nanna shrugged and strode into the mist with a boldness Baldr wished he had right now.

Ganglati followed after her, leaving only Ganglöt and Baldr.

“Shall I hold your hand, Óðinnson?”, she offered. “I see you're still shaken.”

Gratefully he accepted and she led him into the green mist.

For a while there was nothing visible, except for the path (which had handrails, thank goodness) and the three people in front of them.

“This reminds me of something”, Baldr said to Ganglöt. “Remember when you guided me to Hel's audience hall and we had to cross Fallandaforað?”

Ganglöt nodded: “Yes. You clung to my hand, like your life depended on it.”

“And you freaking hummed 'Walking in the air', while we crossed the chasm!” Baldr shook his head.

The old lady laughed: “I thought it would be funny!”

“Eh, it was more absurd than funny”, he retorted. Then he thought of something. “Oh! How was it for you, Nanna?”, he called out.

“I crossed it on my own, tripped twice, scraped my knees and nearly broke my nose”, his ex-wife answered flatly.

“'Crossed' isn't the right word. She sprinted across like an Olympic athlete. I've never seen anyone run so fast without being chased by something.”

Suddenly Hel burst into laughter. She laughed so hard, that she had to support herself on the handrails.

“Oh my Norns, this is hilarious!”, she wheezed. “That image! Hahaha!”

“It wasn't funny!”, Nanna snapped. “Why does your threshold need to be an invisible magic bridge over a fucking chasm?!”

Hel shrugged, still snickering: “Sorts out the worst of the worst! The more people fall into the pit, the fewer souls I have to judge personally! So it takes a load of work off me!”

“It scares the everloving crap out of people is what it does!”

“Wait!”, threw Baldr in, “Didn't you say that only really bad people trip?”

“I cheated on you, Baldr. No matter the circumstance, adultery is generally considered a punk move”, Nanna pointed out.

“Oh. Right. Ah, whatever. You and I have sorted it out and later I'll sort it out with Hermóðr. So let's not talk about that anymore.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

And that settled that.

From here it was just a short walk until they arrived at another door. It was a normal wooden door carved with magic runes, with ivy creeping around the frame.

“We're here”, said Hel. “Behind this door lies my mother's humble abode. I called ahead yesterday, so she-” Before she could finish that sentence, the door opened by itself. It revealed a large circular antechamber filled with rustic furniture and exotic flora. There were several fireplaces, filling the room with warmth and orange light.

Hel and her two servants entered first.

Baldr and Nanna hesitated at first.

Then a woman's voice called out to them. It was placid and similar to Hel's, albeit smoother.

“What holds you back, young Ás? What holds you back, young Vana? Come in, you both!”

[reas-of-sunshine]

What to Put on Your Sideboards

Sideboards (additionally understood as a buffet) are hassle-free items of dining/living area furniture, which can save all the points that you might not always want on screen but you do not desire them to take up precious storage space in your kitchen either. There is a differentiation we have to state in between sideboards as well as buffets, so if you position your furniture in the living room, it is much more frequently called the sideboard, yet if you place it in your dining area, it is much more commonly called buffet. For top affordable designer sideboards, visit https://beststylishfurniture.com/

A sideboard is a long low storage item and also will most frequently have a short leg as well as a cupboard. They are viewed as about waist elevation. All those elegant flatware sets, table fabrics, placemats and also coasters can be concealed away in the sideboard ready to find out for Christmas, parties and other unique events. Offered in traditional, contemporary and trendy designs, sideboards are an essential storage space service, but what's on display screen is just as important as what's kept within.

Traditionally, sideboards were used to offer buffet food. They can supply an extra surface to dish up celebration snacks as well as finger food, as well as glasses and beverages. There is nothing to quit you from using your sideboard traditionally in the very same means without compromising on design, putting little style items to enhance around the food. If you intend for your sideboard to be practical in this way, you can keep the surface clear for such occasions past simply a couple of statement pieces such as a light or vase to add a little elevation variant. Smaller accessories adorned around the food and also drinks when offered can add some subtle design to the sideboard.

Yet sideboards are likewise an effective means to anchor every one of the design parts of your eating room right into one natural theme. As well as also makes doing so a breeze, permitting a number of modifications to your sideboard design to alter the context of every other component of your dining area. Neutral colour styles of the dining area furniture can be used to match seasonal decor throughout the year, as defined by the sideboard attribute. If you want your sideboard to become the show-stopping piece de resistance of your dining-room at www.homefurniturespace.co.uk you need to know just how to design your sideboard to fit your certain dining-room as well as private taste.

The simplest trick to make the dining room feel quickly lighter and also much more spacious than it actually is a big mirror either standing on the sideboard leaning versus the wall surface at a very mild angle or wall-mounted above the sideboard. Tilted toward the ceiling a little can include even more elevation to the area, yet wall mounting it instead might look a lot a lot more cosmetically pleasing in basic.

To ensure that your sideboard is still the primary focus function of your dining-room, racks installed above the sideboard give added surfaces for design as well as accessories. This is especially efficient if you have whole lots to display, whether you're intending on utilising the sideboard functionally for food and beverages or otherwise. The wall surface function can serve to aesthetically include a little additional height to the pendant ceiling lights from https://www.touchoflighting.com/ by drawing your focus upwards.

A sideboard is an all-natural residence for showing off images and prints. Sideboards are the ideal location to add a component of organic layout.

moss rounds plants a trio of the same potted plant.

[airslingerseo]

How to Get the Most from Your A/C Unit While Saving the Most Money

How to Get the Most from Your A/C Unit While Saving the Most Money

Running an air conditioning unit efficiently is essential for maintaining comfort during hot weather while keeping energy costs in check. With the right strategies, you can maximize your A/C unit’s performance and save money. Here’s how:

*1. Regular Maintenance is Key

Description: Keeping your A/C unit in top condition ensures it runs efficiently and lasts longer.

Tips:

Schedule Annual Tune-Ups: Have a professional technician inspect and service your A/C unit annually. This includes checking refrigerant levels, cleaning coils, and ensuring all components are working correctly.

Change Air Filters Regularly: Replace air filters every 1-3 months, depending on usage, to maintain optimal airflow and efficiency.

Clean the Outdoor Unit: Keep the condenser unit free of debris like leaves, dirt, and grass clippings. Ensure there’s at least two feet of clearance around the unit.

Savings: Regular maintenance prevents costly repairs, improves efficiency, and can extend the lifespan of your unit, reducing long-term costs.

*2. Optimize Thermostat Settings

Description: Smart thermostat settings can significantly reduce energy consumption.

Tips:

Set the Temperature Wisely: Keep your thermostat at a comfortable but energy-efficient temperature. The U.S. Department of Energy recommends 78°F (25°C) when you’re home and raising it by a few degrees when you’re away.

Use a Programmable Thermostat: Set your thermostat to automatically adjust the temperature based on your schedule. This avoids cooling an empty house, saving energy and money.

Consider a Smart Thermostat: Invest in a smart thermostat that learns your habits and adjusts the temperature accordingly. Some models can be controlled remotely via a smartphone app, giving you flexibility and control even when you're not home.

Savings: Proper thermostat settings can save you up to 10% on cooling costs annually.

*3. Enhance Home Insulation and Sealing

Description: Insulating and sealing your home can prevent cool air from escaping, reducing the load on your A/C unit.

Tips:

Seal Windows and Doors: Use weatherstripping and caulk to seal gaps around windows and doors. This prevents cool air from leaking out and hot air from coming in.

Insulate Attic and Walls: Proper insulation in your attic and walls helps keep the cool air inside and reduces the need for your A/C to work harder.

Install Window Treatments: Use blinds, curtains, or reflective films to block out heat from the sun, especially on south- and west-facing windows.

Savings: Improved insulation and sealing can reduce energy bills by up to 15%.

*4. Use Ceiling Fans to Assist Your A/C

Description: Ceiling fans can help circulate cool air, reducing the burden on your A/C unit.

Tips:

Set Fans to Spin Counterclockwise: In the summer, set ceiling fans to rotate counterclockwise to create a wind-chill effect, making the room feel cooler.

Use Fans with A/C: Run ceiling fans in occupied rooms to help distribute cool air more evenly. This allows you to set the thermostat a few degrees higher without sacrificing comfort.

Savings: Using ceiling fans in conjunction with your A/C can allow you to raise the thermostat by 4°F without a reduction in comfort, reducing cooling costs by up to 10%.

*5. Reduce Heat Gain Inside Your Home

Description: Minimizing heat buildup in your home lessens the workload on your A/C unit.

Tips:

Cook Smart: Use the oven and stove during cooler parts of the day, or opt for the microwave, slow cooker, or outdoor grill to reduce indoor heat.

Use Energy-Efficient Lighting: Incandescent bulbs emit a lot of heat. Replace them with energy-efficient LED bulbs that produce less heat.

Close Blinds and Curtains: During the hottest part of the day, close blinds and curtains to block out the sun’s heat.

Savings: Reducing heat gain can lower the demand on your A/C unit, cutting energy costs by up to 5%.

**6. Upgrade to an Energy-Efficient A/C Unit

Description: If your current unit is old or inefficient, upgrading to a new, energy-efficient model can result in significant savings.

Tips:

Choose a Unit with a High SEER Rating: The Seasonal Energy Efficiency Ratio (SEER) measures the efficiency of an A/C unit. Higher SEER ratings indicate better efficiency.

Consider a Ductless System: For homes without ductwork, ductless mini-split systems can be more energy-efficient and provide zoned cooling.

Look for ENERGY STAR® Certification: ENERGY STAR-certified units meet strict efficiency guidelines and can save up to 20% more energy than standard models.

Savings: Upgrading to an energy-efficient A/C unit can reduce cooling costs by up to 40%.

*7. Use Natural Ventilation When Possible

Description: Taking advantage of natural ventilation during cooler parts of the day can reduce reliance on your A/C unit.

Tips:

Open Windows at Night: In the evening or early morning, when temperatures are lower, open windows to let in cool air and ventilate your home.

Use Window Fans: Place fans in windows to draw in cool air or expel warm air, creating a cross-breeze that cools your home naturally.

Savings: Utilizing natural ventilation can reduce the need for air conditioning, lowering energy bills.

Conclusion

Maximizing the efficiency of your A/C unit while minimizing energy costs is all about smart maintenance, optimizing your home’s environment, and making informed choices about how and when you use your air conditioning. By following these strategies, you can stay cool and comfortable throughout the summer while keeping your energy bills under control.

AirSlinger.com: Your Trusted HVAC Experts in Pinellas County, Pasco County, and Pinellas Park, FL

At AirSlinger.com, we are committed to keeping your home and business comfortable year-round with our top-notch HVAC services. Serving Pinellas County, Pasco County, and Pinellas Park, FL, we specialize in comprehensive AC repair, furnace repair, and full-service HVAC maintenance.

Why Choose AirSlinger.com?

Expert AC Repair: When your air conditioning system breaks down in the Florida heat, you need fast and reliable service. Our certified technicians are skilled in diagnosing and repairing all makes and models of AC units, ensuring your home stays cool and comfortable.

Reliable Furnace Repair: Even in sunny Florida, a functional furnace is essential for those chilly nights. We offer expert furnace repair services, ensuring your heating system operates efficiently when you need it most.

Comprehensive HVAC Services: Beyond repairs, AirSlinger.com provides full-service HVAC solutions, including installation, maintenance, and system upgrades. Whether you need routine service or a complete system overhaul, we’ve got you covered.

Service Areas

We proudly serve the communities of Pinellas County, Pasco County, and Pinellas Park, FL, offering prompt and professional AC repair pinellas county, AC repair pasco county,  AC repair hillsborough county, furnace repair pinellas park,  HVAC companies in pinellas county tailored to your specific needs.

Trust AirSlinger.com to deliver exceptional HVAC solutions with the expertise and customer care you deserve. Contact us today to schedule your service!

[dimensionmedicalservices]

OT Light Supplier in Jaipur: Ensuring Precision and Clarity in Surgical Procedures

Operating Theatre (OT) lights play a critical role in the success of surgeries by providing the necessary illumination for precise and safe procedures. In Jaipur, the demand for advanced, high-quality OT lights is increasing as hospitals, clinics, and healthcare centers expand their services to meet the growing healthcare needs of the population. Whether it’s a government hospital, private clinic, or specialty surgical center, having the right OT lights is essential to ensuring a sterile, well-lit, and optimized environment for complex surgical tasks. Our services: OT Light Supplier in Jaipur

Importance of OT Lights in Healthcare

OT lights are designed to deliver consistent, shadow-free illumination to the surgical area, which is crucial for surgeons to perform intricate procedures with accuracy. They help in visualizing critical details such as tissue layers, anatomical structures, and potential complications that may arise during surgery. Poor lighting can not only compromise the surgeon’s ability to work but may also lead to complications, increasing the risk of post-operative issues. Therefore, investing in high-quality OT lights is indispensable for any healthcare facility in Jaipur.

Types of OT Lights Available

As Jaipur continues to advance in medical technologies, OT light suppliers in the city are offering a wide range of solutions that cater to various medical requirements. These include:

LED OT Lights: Energy-efficient and long-lasting, LED OT lights are widely used in modern healthcare settings. They offer bright, shadowless illumination and generate minimal heat, making them ideal for lengthy surgical procedures. LED lights also allow for adjustments in color temperature and intensity, improving the surgeon’s focus and visibility.

Halogen OT Lights: Although being gradually replaced by LED lights, halogen OT lights are still favored by some institutions for their consistent illumination. They are cost-effective but may produce more heat compared to their LED counterparts.

Ceiling-Mounted OT Lights: These lights are fixed on the ceiling and can be easily adjusted to focus on different parts of the operating area. Ceiling-mounted lights are a popular choice for larger operation theatres where flexibility in light direction is crucial.

Mobile OT Lights: Portable and flexible, mobile OT lights can be moved around as per the requirement. These are often used in clinics, emergency rooms, and minor surgical units where mobility is a priority.

Wall-Mounted OT Lights: Ideal for smaller operation theaters, wall-mounted OT lights provide a compact solution without compromising on illumination quality.

Choosing the Right OT Light Supplier in Jaipur

When selecting an OT light supplier in Jaipur, it’s important to choose one with a reputation for reliability, innovation, and customer support. Some key factors to consider include:

Product Range: Look for suppliers that offer a variety of OT lights tailored to different types of surgeries and healthcare facilities. A wide range ensures that you can find the perfect solution to meet your specific needs.

Quality Assurance: Ensure the supplier provides high-quality, certified products that meet international standards for medical equipment. This guarantees safety, durability, and effectiveness during operations.

Technical Support and After-Sales Service: Installing OT lights involves technical expertise. A good supplier will provide installation support, training, and after-sales services like maintenance and repairs. This ensures that the equipment continues to function optimally over time.

Customization and Flexibility: Depending on the size and design of the operation theater, different lighting configurations may be needed. Suppliers who offer customizable OT light setups are ideal for healthcare centers looking for tailored solutions.

Top OT Light Suppliers in Jaipur

Several reputable OT light suppliers in Jaipur cater to the needs of hospitals, nursing homes, and surgical centers. These suppliers focus on delivering high-quality products that comply with international standards and offer excellent customer support. They offer a range of products from basic surgical lights to advanced LED OT lights with features like adjustable intensity, shadow management, and energy efficiency.

By partnering with a reliable OT light supplier, healthcare providers in Jaipur can ensure that they have access to the best lighting solutions, improving the precision and safety of their surgical procedures.

Conclusion

In Jaipur’s expanding healthcare sector, the availability of quality OT lights is paramount to the success of surgical operations. The right OT light supplier can provide advanced, reliable, and cost-effective solutions, helping surgeons perform procedures with the utmost precision. As Jaipur continues to grow as a medical hub, partnering with leading OT light suppliers will be critical to enhancing the overall quality of healthcare services.