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lovingrosewho · 4 years

Text

The Executioner’s Song (rewrite, sort of)

NOW, ONTO THE GOOD STUFF, and that means, the new stuff :-) I’ve been rewatching all Supernatural seasons and just had to write this. Disclaimer: English isn’t my first language, feel free to give any feedback/suggestions! <3 Ily all, thanks for reading <3

ONE SHOT

Pairing: Crowley x Reader, sort of Castiel x Reader but in a friendly way

Rating: T. Angst, fluff

Word count: 3.1k+

Summary: the title pretty much explains it buuut, basically, Reader gets upset about Dean betraying Crowley

Warnings: SPOILERS AHEAD IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED SEASON 10, signs of depression, dialogues taken from the series at the beginning, a few curse words I guess?

When Dean handles the First Blade over to Castiel instead of Crowley, your eyes open wide in shock.

“You lied to me” Crowley says, you can sense the hurt from the betrayal in his voice.

“It’s not the first time today” Dean makes a pause with the demon’s expectant eyes “Cain’s list? You weren’t on it” Dean says and with this, Crowley vanishes.

You begin to feel dizzy, nauseous even, a void made of uncertainty taunts your heart and your stomach, you try to hide it behind being worried about Dean, which is partly true and you let that show as you hug him, relieved he’s alive, in one piece and, mostly, or so it seems, sane. Castiel looks over at you and you just know, he knows.

The four of you get to the bunker. Not a word from anyone. At the very arrival, you excuse yourself pretending a headache along the tiredness of the whole trip, so you practically run to your room.

The minute you close the door you dial Crowley’s cellphone, your hands shaking as you do so.

Straight to voice mail. You dial again.

“Damn it Crowley, pick up the fucking phone” you pray lowly.

Voice mail again. You’ve got to be kidding. You dial a third time.

“What is it that you want?” he finally answers, voice tone a bit raised, taking into account it’s you and he never raises his voice with you, either way, you can’t but let a breath out of relief at hearing him.

“Can you come over here? Please, I’m in my room” you’re not finished telling him and he hangs up.

“Damn it Crowley!” you exclaim again while you dial his number a fourth time, the second ring hasn’t sound when he appears standing in front of you.

“What?!” he almost screams, locking the door of your room with his demon powers. He’s not afraid about Sam and Dean coming in, all guns waving and pointing at him, no, he fears for you, aware that if the Winchesters hear you, not only will they scold you, but could also stop trusting you, hell, they could even lock you up thinking it was his doing the fact that you were friends with him.

“I didn’t know!” you confess instantly, body trembling and feeling like you’re going to puke any minute. You know how Crowley feels about treason, you know damn well and you just can’t let him think you had anything to do with it. He takes a few steps back and looks at you up and down.

“Why should I believe you, (Y/N)? And how? How am I supposed to believe you? Tell me” he raises his voice once again, he doesn’t like doing that with you but this time he just can’t help himself “If you four had only told me the truth I would have gladly agreed and helped you!”

“I know, I know!” you whimper, knowing that is a big-ass declaration from Crowley, and that he wouldn’t normally admit to it, he’s just doing it because it’s you, and he’s hurt. You try to maintain your posture and not let your voice crack weeping “I swear, I had nothing to do with it, if I had known I’d have tried to convince Dean to tell you the truth! I swear!”

Crowley is about to vanish, tired of listening to you, tired of the lies, of the doubts; first his minions being influenced by Abaddon, then his mother, next the Winchesters and now... he never thought he would doubt of his most beloved hunter. A single tear escapes your eyes and Crowley stops dry from disappearing, the temptation to remove that single tear being more powerful than him, the King of Hell.

You’ve known Crowley since he was a blood junkie, locked up in the Winchester’s dungeon. Your friendship started as a naïve excuse to pass the time, at first with just a couple of hostile phrases a day when you found him, and obviously discovered he was a demon, not just any demon but the King of Hell himself, and soon after it turned into something else. When you broke your arm in a fight and had to spend a couple of months skipping on hunts, the boredom increased your time in the dungeon with Crowley while the boys were gone, and you began to admit you liked the guy, perhaps a little too much. Months kept passing and the habit of sneaking into Crowley’s room while the boys were out, stayed, sometimes you would even take the cuffs and chains off of him and let him walk and stretch inside the devils trap, he would always behave and let you put the chains back on. When he managed to free himself from the brothers, he would visit you in your room when no one else in the bunker could hear you; you would talk about anything, his life, your life, Hell, current or past hunts, funny anecdotes... you were not ready to lose that. Not now, not ever.

Crowley stares deep into your eyes as he holds your face in both his hands and wipes the tear off your cheek.

“Look at me... and tell me if I’m lying” you say slowly. He sighs.

“I’m sorry, Pet. I can’t” and with this final sentence, he leaves the room, disappearing and leaving you alone.

You swallow hard, your steps conducting you backwards until you hit the end of the bed and are able to sit. At last, you break down in tears, sobs and whines flooding you from the inside out when you hear a knock at the door.

“(Y/N)?” it’s Castiel “(Y/N) are you okay?”

You don’t respond, and Cas is forced to unlock the door and come in. He stares in shock at you but immediately locks the door back so Sam and Dean won’t come up asking questions. He sits next to you and doubtfully touches your shoulder for you to look at him, which you don’t do.

“He won’t talk to me ever again Castiel” you say in between sobs.

“Who won’t?” he asks confused, but having a mild idea of who you might be referring to.

“Crowley! He thinks I knew about Dean handing over the blade to you and not him...” you keep whimpering “He won’t believe me, whatever we had it’s over”.

Cas nods understandingly and reaches out to hug you, your face covering his chest with tears.

“(Y/N) maybe it’s for the best... Crowley is...” he begins but you interrupt him, separating from his grip.

“No you don’t understand. He’s changed. I know it seems impossible but he has. And he truly believed he could be friends with us, I know it, I know him. Castiel I...” your voice breaks.

“(Y/N)” he intertwines his hand with yours “I know”.

He holds you again, and you cry and cry for hours in that same position with him until you fall asleep. Castiel lifts you up and leaves you laying across your bed, he takes your shoes off and puts a few blankets on top of you.

When he comes down everything is quiet, the Winchesters have surely gone to sleep, or at least get some rest after the day they’ve had.

The following morning you don’t come out of your room, not for breakfast, dinner, research, anything.

“What’s up with (Y/N)?” Deans asks, looking towards your room.

“She...” Castiel tries to explain “Wasn’t feeling very well. I’ll go check on her”.

The brothers look at each other and nod at Castiel’s offer.

“Hey, could you please bring her something to eat?” Sam asks politely.

“Yes. Of course” Cas answers.

When he enters your room, he notices you haven’t changed your clothes, and you’re in the same position he left you last night.

“(Y/N)?” he says, leaving a tray of food on your desk “How are you feeling?”

“Not hungry” you say without facing him, smelling the hot breakfast he just left a couple of feet away from you.

“Well... you need to eat. You’re human” he reminds you.

“So? Not hungry” you repeat. He sits beside you and slightly caresses your hair.

“Okay then, we’ll be downstairs if you need us... or just, you know, pray for me” he tells you before getting up and prepare to leave your room until you jump all of a sudden.

“Wait! Castiel!” you say, startling him.

“What? Whats is it?”

“Please... don’t tell Dean what this is about... he’ll just... he wouldn’t understand” you beg him. Cas nods his head in agreement.

“Of course”.

When Cas comes down, both Winchesters are looking at him, raising his hands as asking what is going on.

“It’s... like I said, she’s not feeling very well” he tells them when he’s at the table with both.

“Well what does she have?” Deans asks demandingly.

“I... she wouldn’t say” Cas lies, which gains him a weird look from Dean.

“Ok that’s it, I’m going up” declares Dean and Cas gets up sharply.

“Dean! No! She said she didn’t wanna be bothered” Castiel exclaims worried.

The weird look on Dean remains until he rolls his eyes, says “fine” and heads for the kitchen instead.

Sam has stayed silent the whole time until Dean leaves.

“Cas” Sams calls him in a low voice “Is this about Crowley?”

Castiel sighs and nods.

“Guess she’ll just have to pull through with this one” Sam follows Castiel’s sigh.

You don’t go out of your room for two days in a row, sadness consuming you. The third day you decide you’ve had enough and come downstairs to help the boys with research, no one says a word but Dean.

“Hiya there kiddo, had us worried sick but Cas said you didn’t wanna be bothered, everything okay?” Dean tells you, making you smile softly.

“Yeah, yeah. Just you know, some headaches, it felt like I was hungover the whole day, guess that tension from the last adventure really took a hit on me” you lie marvelously.

“Yeah. But you’re back, we are back, and that’s what matters” Dean tells you and you smile nodding, containing your tears again, you know you are not fully back.

It’s been a couple of weeks and Crowley won’t answer any of your calls, hence you stop calling him.

You miss him, you miss his voice and spending time with him. The boys notice even if you’re back up enlisting on hunts and helping them, something’s definitely off with you. You don’t eat enough, you practically don’t sleep, you barely smile or laugh anymore, and you seem distracted half of the time. It hurts Castiel more than anyone seeing you like this, so he decides to break his vow and talk to Dean.

“You have to call Crowley” he tells Dean when he and Sam are alone in the bunker whilst you are in your room “You have to tell him it was your idea to give the blade to me, you can even mention Sam but not (Y/N)”.

“And why would I do that?” Dean asks confused and a bit angry.

“Look around you Dean” Sam tells him “Something’s off with (Y/N) since that day, it’s not even 9pm and she’s already locked in her room, she didn’t even eat when we got back”.

Dean looks at both of them and grunts.

“How are you so sure this is about Crowley?”

“Because she told me” Castiel confesses “Now, call him”.

Dean looks impassive at Cas and Sam but takes his phone out and dials Crowley’s number.

First call goes to voice mail.

“Well that’s it, I’m not calling that dickbag again” he declares and Cas catches his arm, grabbing and stopping him from putting away his cellphone.

“Try again” Castiel threatens. Dean rolls his eyes but agrees.

“Squirrel, long time no see” Crowley finally answers “How are you?”

“Listen you son of a bitch” Dean begins “I don’t know what you did or told (Y/N) but...”

“Oh I didn’t tell, much less do, anything to her”.

It hasn’t been easier for Crowley. He’s got the advantage he doesn’t eat nor sleep, but distraction has definitely been present. Every time his mother or his minions call him he’s just thinking of you, about answering your calls, about calling back. He misses you, your voice, your laugh.

“Well she hasn’t been okay and the only thing I know is it has to do with you” Dean tells him “She hasn’t anything to do with the fact that I didn’t handle you the blade, that’s on me, Sam and perhaps Cas, but not her. She knew nothing, you hear me? Nothing. ‘Cause see here’s the thing, we didn’t tell her ‘cause I knew you two got along and if I had told her she would have put up a fight and claim it was unfair. Now she won’t sleep, nor eat enough, she’s distracted on hunts and that almost got her killed a couple of times already, so you either fix it or I’ll come down there looking to kill you Crowley I swear”.

With this last phrase he hangs up and throws his phone away, without expecting Crowley to answer, this is non-negotiable.

The King of Hell’s stomach suddenly fills with hope and excitement, it’s not the fact that Dean called him about what happened, no, it’s just that he did not know you cared that much for him, he’d figured after a while you would stop calling and move on.

You wake up in the middle of the night and... what time is it exactly? Phone says 3am. Great. You sit slowly, yawning, still sleepy, and turn on your bedside lamp.

Suddenly you see Crowley standing in front of you and you almost scream whilst reaching for your gun.

“Crowley! For the love of... what the actual hell are you doing in my room?!” you hiss at him, exasperated, tossing the gun aside.

“Well hello to you too, love” he exclaims sarcastically.

“Answer the question, what are you doing here?” you ask again, tired and afraid this is just some sick joke.

“I was bored. Thought I’d pay you a visit” he says walking, or more like snooping, around your room.

“And you needed to do that at 3 in the morning? When I’m sleeping? And when you haven’t returned my calls in weeks?” you reclaim but he stays silent, still going through some of the stuff placed at your desk.

You exhale sharply.

“Whatever, I need to pee, do not touch anything, you understand me?”

“Yes, yes. Understood, Pet. I’ll be right here”.

You get up from your bed and walk barefoot towards the restroom. When you’re sit in the toilet, your mind begins wondering what truly brings the King of Hell to your room. Perhaps he’s aware that you miss him. Perhaps he misses you too. Or maybe it’s a dream. Maybe he is telling the truth and was just bored of all the meetings.

You get back to your room to find Crowley laying across your bed.

“Everything alright, Pet? Was beginning to wonder what took you so long” he tells you. Deep, dark stare into your eyes.

“Yeah” you say, approaching the edge of the bed, staring back at him “I do everything slower at this time. Now, scoot over”.

He slides a few inches to the side of the bed, letting you lay down next to him. You turn a few degrees facing him, while Crowley keeps looking at the ceiling, but paying attention to every and each one of your moves, that is until you place your arm across his chest and your hand begins mindlessly caressing the thin fabric from his suite shirt, while you breathe in his scent, the sulphur, the ash, the expensive scotch and fresh cologne.

“(Y/N)?” he begins carefully, voice low “What are you doing?“

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Yes, beg your pardon, why are you doing it?” Crowley asks but cautiously places an arm around you and starts stroking your hair.

“I... I’ve missed you” you confess as you bury your face in his shoulder “Does... does this bother you?”

Your question puts a soft smile in his mouth while he turns to look at your half-hidden face.

“Not in the slightest, kitten” his declaration is greeted with a relieved and dreamy sigh from you “I’ve missed you too, you know?”

“You have?” you ask incredulously “I thought you didn’t care...”

“Of course I care. But here I thought you were the one who didn’t care...” that’s when your engines start rotating and it hits you.

“Did you speak to Castiel?” you interrogate him, fully facing him now.

“Castiel? No. I spoke to Dean though” he says guessing what happened. Knowing you, you wouldn’t have let Dean figure out what you were so upset about, Cas must’ve told him “He wanted some intel on someone, don’t know, don’t care, and it slipped the fact that you weren’t feeling so well”.

“What else did he say?” you ask him, going back to your task of running your fingers across his chest. In this moment, you couldn’t care less how he found out, he’s here, with you.

He inhales deeply.

“That you had nothing to do with the idea of lying to me...” he feels your body tense underneath him “Which, by the way, I figured a couple of hours after our little discussion”.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” anger beginning to creep on you, body still stiff.

“Because I thought you didn’t care that much” he admits “I thought it was for the best. To be honest, I was unsure about what to even tell you after the tantrum I threw that day”.

He places a hand under your chin for you to look him in the eyes.

“I am sorry, (Y/N)” the King of Hell apologizes and you relax, hugging him a bit tighter.

“I love you” he’s taken aback by your declaration but after a few seconds he smiles gently.

“I love you too, Pet” with this sentence he brings your chin up and lowers his lips sweetly onto yours. He tastes like honey, citrus and scotch, and all you ever thought he’d taste like.

The kiss is so tender and so slow that you’re able to wander your hand towards his hair and then his cheek.

When the two of you break the kiss, you spend an exaggerated amount of time looking at each other, assimilating the reciprocated love. After a while you start talking about everything and nothing, just like old times, cuddling until you fall asleep, and Crowley, the King of Hell, has the honor to be the one to hold you in his arms.

MASTERLIST

#supernatural #crowley x reader #crowley #crowley supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #castiel x reader

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needtherapy · 4 years

Text

to be human is a haunting, Part 1

A love story for Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen

In a modern world, in a modern city that still has need for cultivators, Song Lan

(war hero, rogue cultivator, orphan)

goes for a run in the park, kills a dankang, makes a friend, and meets a beautiful man with a dog, all before he has to go to therapy. It's the best day he's had in ten years.

Read more Kristina Writes Tiny Stories

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Read over on AO3 instead

Title from molly ofgeography’s song Runaway, Run

Rated E for Explicit sexy times, mild demon killing, and swearing.

Part 1

Song Lan wakes to the sound of screaming

familiar

too familiar

and he knows it is his own voice seconds

long seconds

before he can snap his mouth closed around the last trailing sob.

The thrum of the city leaks back in, pushing past the roaring in his ears, and reminds him to ground himself. The clean white walls of the stark room around him. The feel of the bed underneath him, the smell of lemon dryer sheets, the glow of the neon light across the street. All known. All safe. He skips the taste of morning breath.

If he could remember the nightmares, the exact details, maybe he’d tell his therapist. It would at least give them something to talk about instead of the silent hour he wastes twice a week now.

No. That’s a lie. He knows what’s in them. He still wouldn’t talk about it.

The clock by his bed claims it’s 5:04 am, a fairly reasonable time to be awake, so he gets up. May as well get his run over with.

— ⚔ —

“Do you run every day,” Dr. Wen asks.

Song Lan nods.

Dr. Wen writes something down.

“Do you enjoy running?” Dr. Wen asks.

Song Lan nods.

Dr. Wen writes something down.

“Why do you enjoy it?” Dr. Wen asks.

Song Lan shrugs.

Dr. Wen writes something down.

— ⚔ —

Song Lan doesn’t really enjoy running any more than he enjoys digesting food. But it’s too ingrained in him now, the rhythm of air and feet and arms. He couldn’t stop if he wanted to. It is the anchor of his day.

Ten miles covers a lot of the city, and as familiar as it is, as long as he’s lived and run here, it looks different every morning, like noticing a light freckle on the back of his wrist. When it’s cloudless before dawn like today, he runs down the lakeshore path to watch the sunrise at the halfway mark. On cue, with all the fanfare and flourish of a seasoned professional, at 6:17 am, the sun erupts in yellow and pink over the horizon and turns the water to diamonds. It looks like magic every time.

This he loves and doesn’t have to lie about.

Song Lan is two miles from his place, running through the park, when the skin on the back of his neck prickles, and he slows his pace. Is it a hundred yards away? Maybe closer? He opens his mind and sends out a questing wave of qi from his core. He doesn’t know if he needs to draw the sword strapped to his back yet. There’s no one else around. Maybe whatever it is will just...mind its own business.

He doesn’t hunt anymore, not actively, but he still runs with his sword. It’s just habit, probably. He would feel incomplete without Fuxue’s weight between his shoulder blades. And even if he doesn’t go looking for danger, danger is often waiting.

Without warning, an enormous dankang explodes from the bushes by the running path and careens toward him. The green pelt that had camouflaged it glows in the early morning light, and Song Lan is swinging Fuxue almost before the sword is even in his hand. The boar roars in a very un-pig-like way, and he idly wonders, as the blade cuts into the demon’s hide, what the taxonomic difference between dankang and pigs is. Are they different families? Orders? Or is there some divergence further back? It squeals in pain but doesn’t give up the attack, changing direction mid-stride and flashing wicked yellow tusks at him.

It takes six strikes to kill the monster. He always counts. The counting, like the running, is an integral part of him. One downward hack. One thrust to the shoulder. One spinning jab in the dankang’s ribs. Two upward slashes. One strike in the throat and the beast is dead.

Song Lan texts the Nie cleanup crew his coordinates and takes a thin cloth from his pocket to wipe the blood off of Fuxue, dropping it on to the body when he’s done. He’ll clean the sword properly when he gets back.

“Six strikes,” a voice says from behind him, and he whirls, surprised to be surprised. “Was it luck, or are you really that good?”

There’s a man in a long trench coat standing on the path with a dog sitting next to him. The dog is one of those scruffy brown mutts that would be completely ordinary in every way except it looks far too clever to be a dog. It cocks its head and one floppy ear flips inside out.

The man is backlit by a golden ray of sun

not ordinary

in no way ordinary

and Song Lan can’t see his features clearly enough, not from this distance

a hundred and thirty-three feet

wind from the east

but it looks like he might be carrying a sword.

— ⚔ —

Sometimes in therapy, Song Lan counts the holes in the acoustical ceiling tiles.

Sometimes he counts the colored pencils on Dr. Wen’s desk.

Sometimes he counts the number of times Dr. Wen spins his pen in his fingers, waiting for Song Lan to answer a question. Any question.

— ⚔ —

Song Lan counts to seven before he answers, the numbers slowing his heartbeat.

“It was one more than last time.”

The man laughs, a bright chime of bells that wrinkles his nose. The dog looks up at its master, and its mouth drops open in a doggy grin.

“Clearly a failure, then. I hope the next time I see you, you will have improved.”

Song Lan is distracted by his voice, deeper than he expects, more musical than he expects, and he’s acutely disappointed when the man turns and walks away, the dog at his heels. He’s almost overcome by the impulse to call the man back, just so he can see his face again, so he can decide if it’s real or not.

“I’m here every day at 7 am,” the man calls over his shoulder before he disappears around a corner. Or maybe he disappears into a beam of light. Song Lan can easily believe either.

He takes one step to follow, and then realizes what he’s doing. It’s ridiculous. He takes a second step anyway. But a woman is suddenly at his elbow, handing him a clipboard, asking for his ID and signature. He has no idea how the cleaners got there so fast.

“I haven’t seen a dankang in this park before, have you?” the woman asks.

Song Lan shakes his head.

“Yeah, they usually prefer the suburbs. More hedge rows,” she says, and Song Lan isn’t sure if this requires an answer, so he doesn’t.

She takes the clipboard when he’s finished and peers at it. “Oh, I should have known. You’re the silent rogue—not technically a hunter, but still has more kills than most of the competitive cultivators? Wild!”

Silent rogue, he wonders. As opposed to what?

The woman hands him a card as her team finishes loading the demon into a step van.

“Luo Qingyang. Call me directly next time. I have an office competition to win.” She winks at him and saunters away.

By the time Song Lan gets to the corner where the man disappeared, there’s only cars and pedestrians and noise, and it’s 7:30 am. He has somewhere to be at 9 am, and he doesn’t want to be asked why he’s late.

— ⚔ —

“Dankang?” Dr. Wen asks.

Song Lan’s eyes flinch, glancing up in confusion.

“Well, that was almost an answer,” Dr. Wen says cheerfully.

Song Lan frowns.

“If you want to know, you’re going to have to ask,” Dr. Wen says, eyebrows raised in what might almost be a challenge.

Song Lan doesn’t care. He really doesn’t.

“How did you know?” his voice says anyway, low and soft. Maybe no one heard the question, and Song Lan can pretend it didn’t happen.

To his credit, Dr. Wen doesn’t gloat, but he smiles. Song Lan suspects he’s not going to be able to stay silent forever after all.

— ⚔ —

Song Lan takes a shower after therapy, not only to wash the tattling green dankang fur out of his hair, but scalding enough to burn the words off his skin.

I’m here every day at 7 am

Is he really going to feel like he is fluttering at the end of a rope for the next twenty hours

twenty hours and seventeen minutes

until tomorrow’s 7 am?

Evidently, yes. The shower doesn’t shake the man’s voice loose from his thoughts. Neither does lunch, the library, an episode of a cooking show in a tent, weights, two more episodes of the show—whatever a kouign amann is, he wants one—and sixty pages of Dune. He doesn’t even bother trying to work.

Song Lan makes a salad for dinner, neatly arranging paper-thin slices of carrot, cucumber, jicama, apple, and red onion on a bed of dark green leaves and half a chicken breast. He likes salads that are more toppings than lettuce, so he throws almond slivers and cranberries in his bowl too. “Love yourself enough to make a salad,” is practically the only thing he’s learned in therapy. He’s not sure about loving himself, but he’s pretty fond of salad.

He takes his meds before bed, turns on the white noise, and for once, falls asleep before the world spins into a new day.

— ⚔ —

“Do you blame yourself?”

Song Lan keeps on the blank face he’s so familiar with and stares over Dr. Wen’s shoulder at the photograph of three black cats sitting in a window.

“If you don’t blame yourself, who do you blame?”

Song Lan does not narrow his eyes. Or maybe he does, because Dr. Wen tips his head and gives him a piercing look.

“Even if you’d gotten there sooner, Song Lan, what could you have done? Tell me one thing you could have done.” Dr. Wen almost sounds like he’s pleading.

What I should have done, he thinks. Die with them, he thinks.

— ⚔ —

The man is there at 7 am, sitting on a bench.

With the dog, who is also sitting on the bench.

And that face.

Oh, the face is worse, actually, because Song Lan can see it clearly now. The man smiles when he sees Song Lan, a curving, curling, invitation of a smile on a mouth that looks like a bow without an arrow. The angle of his cheekbones, the graceful lines that can’t fairly be called anything as mundane as dimples, make Song Lan wonder if the rumors of fae in this country are true. The man’s eyes tip up at the corners when he notes Song Lan’s inspection of him, and Song Lan stops moving, maybe stops breathing.

The dog sticks its wet nose in Song Lan’s hand, and he jerks back, staring down at the animal. He doesn’t like to be touched, even by animals, but he isn’t angry, just surprised. He’s just surprised. He can’t understand why he’s just surprised.

“She’s inviting you to sit,” the man says, laughter in his voice.

The dog snorts at Song Lan, a chuffing noise that sounds like she is laughing at him, too.

“Is she?” Song Lan asks, and the man grins

an unfairly perfect expression of genes

and shakes his head.

“No. But I am. Will you join us?”

Song Lan sits on the bench on the other side of the dog.

“A-Qing, get on the ground like a normal dog,” the man scolds.

The dog harrumphs but stands, delicately sets her front feet on the ground one at a time and stretches her long body the rest of the way, as slowly as caninely possible. Song Lan feels the corner of his mouth twitch.

“I’m Xingchen,” the man says, his lips shifting to a different kind of smile, a tip of the hat friendly smile.

He is wearing a white sweater, a white scarf, baggy white pants, and his name is stardust. Of course it is. Song Lan wonders if it’s a real name or one he’s invented.

“No last name?” Song Lan asks, and the man laughs again. Song Lan can’t imagine what it must be like to have so much laughter bottled inside him. Even before the war, before the massacre that took everything from him, laughter was a precious commodity, not something anyone would squander in the park on a cloudy day with a man like him.

“If I tell you my last name, you’ll think I made it up,” Xingchen says, and it’s so close to Song Lan’s thoughts, he tips his head, realizing belatedly that he looks like the dog when he does it.

Xingchen’s face shifts to mischief, and Song Lan’s mouth feels dry, chasing a mirage in the desert, only to discover it’s real. “You tell me your first name, and I’ll tell you my last name,” Xingchen says.

“Zichen,” Song Lan says immediately, without thinking, without the capacity for thought. He backpedals. “No one calls me that anymore, though. I’m just Song Lan.”

He has not been anyone’s treasured child in three years. He only thinks of himself as the mist now. It’s easier to be insubstantial, just passing through, nothing to see here.

“Oh no, you must be Zichen. Precious child, treasured seed,” Xingchen says in a singsong voice like it’s a line from a song or a poem. “Song Zichen, I’m Xiao Xingchen. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Would you like to have breakfast? With us?”

Song Lan does think it’s a made up name now, but he could have said his name was Horsehead Nebula, and Song Lan would still say yes.

“Yes, thank you.”

Xingchen stands and a-Qing, who had been laying on her back in the grass, snaps to attention, dashing over to lean against his left leg, looking up at him with clear adoration.

It hadn’t been a sword.

It is a cane.

“Well?” Xingchen asks. “Are you coming? I’ll tell you about it on the way, if you like.”

Song Lan nods, and then answers out loud, in case the nod was stupid and thoughtless. “Yes.”

— ⚔ —

“Do you have friends?” Dr. Wen asks.

Song Lan frowns at the rude question, which inexplicably makes Dr. Wen grin.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he says. “How about this? Do you want friends, Song Lan?”

Song Lan doesn’t give an answer, but Dr. Wen seems to think he sees one anyway.

“Well. What are you planning to do about that?”

— ⚔ —

Xingchen says it’s not that interesting of a story. He is slowly going blind. There is nothing anyone can do, and everyone has tried. Surgery. Magic. Lasers. Everyone. Everything. He says a-Qing is helpful. He says he decided to learn to use the cane now, while he can still see a little. He says all of it like it doesn’t matter, and it is Song Lan who is numb with the pain of a loss that isn’t even his. That he didn’t even know about until five minutes ago.

Oh, and Xingchen says he does have a sword, actually, but it seemed like bad manners to bring it on a first date

first date

implying date

implying subsequent dates

even if he hadn’t been entirely sure Song Lan would show up.

Breakfast is in a diner not much wider than a dead dankang, and they tuck into a booth in the back. A-Qing lays on Song Lan’s feet, and it still doesn’t bother him. She’s warm, and he thinks he likes the way it feels when she rolls on her side and sighs.

They order pancakes and a poached egg for a-Qing. He tells Song Lan that a-Qing came from a local shelter because there’s no requirement that service dogs be purebred, they just usually are. He says it’s just harder to pick mixed breed dogs who will be good service dogs, but he didn’t pick a-Qing, she picked him.

“She scaled an eight-foot chain link fence and sat at my heel as though she’d been in service her whole life,” he says with a laugh, reaching his foot to poke a-Qing on the belly and accidentally brushing Song Lan’s leg.

It is a very good thing, Song Lan thinks, that he is accustomed to hiding his reaction to being touched because the feel of Xiao Xingchen’s foot rubbing against his leg makes him suddenly, painfully, embarrassingly hard, and he can vividly recall what it was like to be a teenager in want of a very large notebook to hold in front of himself.

Song Lan rarely eats food he doesn’t make, even more rarely eats fluffy pancakes drenched in butter and syrup, and he has no idea why. They taste like heaven, and watching Xingchen eat is...an experience. He cuts his food precisely, examines every piece, and closes his eyes when he chews, as if each mouthful is a fine wine he plans to savor. He finishes in twenty bites.

“Is your name made up?” Song Lan finally can’t resist asking, and Xingchen shrugs.

“Aren’t all names?”

Song Lan snorts, almost a laugh. “Is it the name you were born with?”

“No one is born with a name, Zichen.” Xingchen sounds like he is very seriously and very patiently explaining why the sky is blue, and Song Lan wants to shake him.

But that makes Song Lan think about laying his fingers on Xingchen’s shoulders, caressing his skin, grazing his collarbone with his thumb, and he shudders, blinking for a heartbeat too long.

“It is my real name,” Xingchen says softly, touching the back of Song Lan’s hand tentatively, as though he understands it might not be welcome. It aches like a spark from an autumn campfire. “My mother is a bit of a hippie, and I was a beautiful baby.”

This time it is a laugh. A real laugh. He hasn’t laughed in so long, he forgot what it would sound like, how it would feel to vibrate through his chest, how it could turn to tears. He covers his eyes with his hand

not the hand Xingchen is touching

and tries to turn back the choking gasp that catches in his throat and forces its way out.

Xingchen doesn’t ask, just holds Song Lan’s hand and waits.

“You are a beautiful adult,” Song Lan says, when he can swallow again, and Xingchen smiles.

“So are you. Although, I have no idea what you looked like as a baby. This could be a recent development. Maybe you were hideously ugly a year ago.”

Now he sounds like he’s teasing, and Song Lan looks at him. Xingchen’s head is propped on one hand, and his expression is both curious and evaluating.

“Would you like to come home with me?” Xingchen asks, threading his fingers through Song Lan’s as though it is completely natural, and somehow, it is. His fingers fit perfectly into the spaces between Song Lan’s. The flames that spill from his fingertips into Song Lan’s arm and flow through his blood whisper the answer.

It is the easiest thing in the world to give them voice and say yes.

Read Part 2 Here

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #songxiao #xiao xingchen #song lan #a qing #luo qingyang #wen ning #kristina writes tiny stories #this one is sort of medium sized #some serious stuff #but mostly cute songxiao #therapy dog #dog #moral of the story: therapy works

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mamamittens · 4 years

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In honor of the New Year and as of right now, three people who have voted (3 for Yuki, and 1 for Emi and Joan), I’m letting you guys see character designs more in style for their respective shows with some more information! Remember, questions are encouraged and you can vote multiple people if your interest isn’t cleanly split!

Yuki is actually half Russian on her mother’s side! She’s also completely fluent Japanese, English, and Russian!

Her quirk is called Winter’s Aria, which has a base form of mutation but can branch out into an emitter and transformation type. In short, her internal body is nearly completely frozen, maintaining a temperature range between 27-29 Fahrenheit or -2.7 to -1.6, which is the mutation part. She has a health usage license to maintain her body temperature so long as she does not damage or injure people or property using the emitter properties of her quirk. The emitter part allows her to control the atmosphere and ice in various forms, in action this allows her to create ice and control these elements so long as they maintain a cold temperature. She cannot control water unless it approaches freezing or below. Her control can be strengthened when she sings, which she rarely does with an audience due to social anxiety, but can accomplish great feats. Such as creating a polar vortex, but it would require a great amount of vocal and emotional power to do so. Transformation turns her whole body to ice and lowers the ambient temperature as a matter of course.

Her quirk is a combination of her parents and their grandparents.

Mother: Frozen Heart (nearly identical to Yuki but somewhat weaker and without the musical part).

Her father: Winter’s Heart (his internal organs are frozen and he exudes a cold temperature uncontrollably but can control and create ice directly from his body)

Her mother: Seasonal Change (she can control the atmosphere around her in a limited function, usually generating winds or altering the clouds, which allows her to instinctively know the exact atmospheric weathers)

Father: Musicality (The ability to create a musical in his environment through song, often with unintended consequences)

His Mother: Perfect pitch (Exactly as it sounds, she can sing perfectly any note within reasonable human range)

His Father: Musical Theatre (He can compel his environment to become a musically inclined environment, though not always guaranteeing that people sing)

Emi!

This is her first wanted poster for the crime of stealing an emerald from a jeweler’s workshop that was owned by a Celestial Dragon to be set into a new necklace, hence the high price. But she absolutely insists that it wasn’t theft since the emerald wasn’t the Celestial Dragon’s in the first place. And yes, I am avoiding drawing their full bodies for the time being in the One Piece art style until later!

As a fun fact, she doesn’t actually know her name, so she simply shortened her name from “Emerald”. And as a bonus, she can create either two fans or an umbrella for combat and defense. The fans can create blades of energy and the umbrella can fire either a beam or shots of energy. I repeat, this isn’t a crossover with Steven Universe, but it is inspired by the ideas in that story. An astute reader will know why Emi is firm in her belief that she didn’t steal the emerald, but is very insistent on not showing her features unless absolutely necessary. No one knew she was sentient before this point and it’s not due to a devil fruit, either. She’s curious and enjoys fixing things, usually after taking them apart.

Joan!

This is her first bounty poster as well! You’ll notice that this poster has her name wrong! That’s because the marines mistakenly thought her name was ‘John’ and took her height and pre-teen frame as an indication she was male. The ‘Spade’ was added since ‘John’ is a very common name in the hopes of setting her apart from other wanted pirates who happened to be named John. The Spades did not take this well, though Joan thought it was humorous, so they took to loudly calling her ‘Little Queen’ to fit the card theme of the ship and crew. This exact picture was taken when she was pushing a barrel onto the ship. The bounty is exceptionally low for the Grand Line and the Spade crew at the time, because her position on the crew was unknown and she hadn’t been seen fighting in any capacity. Her position in fact being assistant cook where she helped prep and cooked herself from time to time, a necessity for a crew with a prolific eater like Ace on board. She also stuck close to Ace to prevent him from falling overboard or into his food when he has a narcolepsy attack, being one of the few who can manage not to be stabbed when reaching near his food. She does not willingly fight, but she does know some self defense from both her father and official classes at the private school she used to go to.

Her talents lie in the field of cooking and knifework with a soft spot for food sculptures and desserts. She is also quite intelligent and skipped grades in part because of her prolific height (as she otherwise would have stuck out in her classes to the detriment of her social life, which suffered anyway because of her height and appearance). She doesn’t have a devil fruit, but her curse personifies emotion into objects or physical transformations, of which her current one is a combination of hunger and fear.

As a New Years bonus, here’s the pictures I mentioned previously in the style of their respective shows! Mostly, I haven’t gotten one for Calypso yet since she’s not a wanted criminal, if ever. But I will have a fun fact for her at the end!

Originally, Halia was going to be called Joan too! But I decided two characters with the same name was a bit confusing and went with a Hawaiian name meaning “in remembrance of a loved one” after her late father, who died before she was born. Her step-father does not like her mixed heritage and her mother agreed to refer to her as “Hailey” on most cases so she wouldn’t stick out too much as a child in Galar, which only mostly worked.

Isabella looking appropriately classy and, as a fun fact, I didn’t realize how simple Ouran’s style was when I started this picture. Everything looks like it’s cotton and there’s hardly any jewelry to be seen, which is probably as a limitation of the mangaka and also because it’s from the POV of Haruhi, who doesn’t care about such things. So I literally didn’t have any easy to find references for silk, gold, or gemstones.

And Isabella is actually childhood friends with Haruhi, as her godfather was a work friend with Haruhi’s mother before she passed who kept in contact with Ranka because of Haruhi and Isabella’s friendship. Isabella acts like an annoying older sister to Haruhi who is ready to spoil her, if only Haruhi didn’t object literally every time she tries. This includes wiping away her debt to the host club, which Haruhi feels honor-bound to fulfill despite the dubious circumstances, so yes, the plot will still happen.

And for Calpyso! She actually does have a devil fruit! The Lonely-Lonely devil fruit, which in essence, can make her unnoticeable. It’s considered cursed since most fail to control the fruit and die from natural circumstances, usually starvation or illness from going completely unnoticed by anyone. Like, one got stranded on an island with no food sources and another was accidentally shot and only had their body discovered after the fact. It renders the user a ghost of their world, earning her the name “Ghost of Paradise Lost” on her file in the Marines, and when utilized to the full effect, lets her walk through objects. With careful control and physical contact, she can bring others with her into this state, but they must not draw attention to themselves (talking loudly or touching other people) as the effect is lessened to a sort of mild ‘notice-me-not’ type of deal. But they can’t be taken with her to pass through physical objects or disappear completely like she can herself. She enjoys scaring people with her fruit powers and wears sea stone earrings when needed to ensure she remains mostly noticed in conversations or meetings, particularly if those involved have trigger fingers. She also carries a truly prolific amount of knives. Just in case.

Vote here!

https://strawpoll.com/uzvpd982z

#Poll #ouran high school host club #my hero academia #boku no hero #mha #bnha #One piece #pokemon sun and moon #pokemon sword and shield #Ocs #archive of our own #AO3

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paradise-of-guilty-pleasures · 5 years

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Shattered Reflections {4}

[Helsa RP- Fanfic]

Fandom: Frozen

Genre: Post-Frozen/ Canon Divergence

- Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance

Pairing(s): Hans/Elsa, Kristoff/Anna

Synopsis:

Prince Hans is a mirror at heart, but wishes to shatter his reflections and correct his past mistakes. He returns to Arendelle, willingly surrendering himself to Queen Elsa’s judgement. Uncovering truths, unforeseen circumstances and a bit of je ne sais quoi, bring the Ice Queen and the Mirror Prince together in a way neither of them would have imagined.

A/N:

(( This is a collaborative RP Fic written by lovely fellow Helsa shipper FOW and myself. We RP for fun and just wanted wanted to share this story with fellow shippers, especially all my lovely shipper buddies over in the Helsa Discord Server. Long live the Province of Helsa! Thank you, Beta Reader Friends, your help is much appreciated. Hope you enjoy~ ))

Previous Chapter: Chapter 3. Bear Your Burdens

Chapter 4. Siren's Song

It was a new day and Elsa was back to daily queenly duties. The sister session with Anna had calmed her nerves a bit, yet he was still on her mind. It was hard to focus on her paperwork. She had received no update on his condition yet, she assumed that meant he had remained stable, at least she hoped. She sighed, she knew she wouldn't get much work done with this eating away at her mind.

She got up from behind her desk, and began to pace, like she usually did when she pondered. Elsa sighed deeply and walked out of her study. She knew she shouldn't be doing this, but there was no stopping now, she was past the point of no return. When she arrived at the hall at the opposite end of the castle, she saw the guards stationed at the door, her heart skipped a beat, but she pressed forward. She walked up to the door and stopped.

The guards glanced at each-other and shrugged. They knocked to herald Elsa's arrival, and opened the door for her. It was unlocked, but it seemed they didn't see that as a concern.

Hans was, surprisingly, sitting up. He had straightened up a bit on her arrival, but opted out of a shirt. His torso was mostly covered in bandages, it seemed to do well enough, but it also showed that he was no idle prince. His arms and torso had plenty of muscle. He was growing a bit of stubble as well- no-one had given him anything he could have shaved with.

Usually he would have greeted her, but at the moment he seemed uncertain how he felt. He didn't seem as positive toward her, but didn't seem to dislike her, either. It was not his forced neutrality, just a general uncertainty.

"No letters today, I'm afraid. I've been a bit preoccupied." He remarked. He still clearly wasn't up to full form (else he probably would have put on a shirt), but he seemed to be conscious and aware enough. He seemed different without the layers of shirt and coat, a bit more of a rugged Navy man than the prince who stood tall. And, beneath the bandages, he was still wearing treasoner's striped hide.

Seeing him shirtless had caught her off guard, even if he was mostly covered in bandages, she tried to avert her gaze, but eyes kept darting back to examine him.

Letters? She had completely forgotten about those.

She let out a hum. "Oh, I didn't come for a letter..." she paused, maybe she was starting to regret coming to visit him.

Hans looked away as well. "Come to ask questions?" He proposed, less than content with the idea. "Or just to make sure I don't lie about being fine again? I'm afraid I have no intention to change that, but the doctor is checking on me regularly, so I can't be hiding anything." Perhaps his annoyance wasn't with her, but was more of a self-loathing. He certainly seemed to have enough of it.

Why was she there? She really had no business being there, but to pry. She felt genuine concern about him, after witnessing his afflictions, yet he wasn't aware of her presence during his surgery due to being unconscious. He would surely view her concern for him as pity.

"I'm sorry," she apologized impulsively. " I shouldn't have come."

She had come to check on his well-being, and he seemed to be better than the day before, even if he was in bad spirits, but she couldn't blame him for that. Her mission had been completed, she could move on with her day, it was best for her just to turn around and walk away.

"No-" Hans impulsively reached out a bit, then realized the gesture was strange. That, or he just felt his back twinge and bandages catch and had to stop. He pulled back as quickly as he started. "My apologies, I'm a bit surly this morning, I'm afraid. It's not in my nature, usually. Please, do ask your questions. I'll enjoy the friendly company." Even if he didn't seem happy, it was more pleasant to see the Queen than to be lost in his thoughts. He briefly looked up at the ceiling, as if looking for something, but he didn't look for longer than a glance. There was nothing there but the decorated and relatively flat bedroom ceiling one might expect of a palace.

Elsa hesitantly stood in place for a moment. She followed his gaze up to the ceiling.

"Are you sure? I would not like intrude if you would just wish to rest and recover," she said as she already started to bridge the gap between her and bedside. She paused and asked a question that would have been strange not given the circumstances. "...Would you like some ice?"

Hans thought about it a moment. "...Sure. Some ice would numb the pain." He would never show his pain, but at least he admitted he had it. "Hot packs and cold packs, one or the other always, it seems. Please, do stay. I enjoy your company, even if I don't always show it." It was almost intimidating, when she was close to him. He knew she wouldn't hurt him intentionally, but it didn't stop him from holding his breath when her hands were close to him, or when her gaze met his and asked questions she never said.

The heat emanating from him was no longer searing like it had been last night, yet it was still fairly warm, she wondered if he still had a mild fever or if he was inherently that warm. She was cautious as she focused her powers to create a light layer of frost over the bandages on his back.

"Better?" she asked as she finished, bringing her hands down to her sides.

Hans couldn't help but tense when she touched his bandages. Not in fear, per se, but perhaps in anticipation. He could almost feel the way the frost crept in shards and fractals over the bandaging.

"Yes, thank you." He nodded, not sure how he felt when she pulled her hands back. He was struck -not for the first time- by her beauty and grace, and the kindness in her words and deeds, tone and poise. "I hope I didn't ramble too deliriously yesterday. I didn't realize I was in such a poor state until I was too tired to do anything about it." And he definitely didn't remember it. He vaguely recalled writing his note and feeling unfocused, then definitely not being able to properly focus on the people in front of him, and laying down. He wouldn't never lay down in front of company unless they were going to, as well. He must have been doing poorly.

Elsa gave as soft smile at his thanks. She shook her head at his comment about deliriously rambling. And then she stood there awkwardly, not knowing how to continue.

Elsa was not a conversationalist, that was definitely Anna's prowess not hers.

Hans waited a long moment, and seemed as engaged in the silence as he was in conversation. Waiting for her to speak, pondering over the time it took, and the expressions she gave. Hans was an analyst, someone who watched others and gauged them. He had to be, if he was to mirror them.

"Would it be easier if I put on a personality? Told another story? I believe it was the sirens, last time, right? I liked that story. Before Arendelle, I tried to believe we had made it up. Now I know that we didn't." He considered telling her she had a few similarities to them, but he couldn't imagine she would take that well, no matter how he meant it.

" I believe," she muttered under her breath as she remembered the words she had written on the note she had planned to give him. "The sirens yes," she said drifting out of her daze. "I enjoyed reading your tale ...and the song, even though I'm not familiar with the tune, so I couldn't quite place the notes." she stated. "My heart is pierced by cupid," she said mindlessly remembering the lyrics.

Hans smiled a bit, almost sheepishly. "I... played the harp, in the Isles. All my brothers learned an instrument, mine was the harp. I could play a bit, if we had one. My voice isn't as nice as a siren's, but I know the words." He seemed embarrassed of the feminine instrument, but he was proud of the skill it took to learn it.

"The harp is a beautiful instrument,"she smiled. " We might be in luck, 'cause I'm pretty sure there's a small harp in the music room, though it's probably best not to strain you playing the harp now, but I do wish to hear you play it someday," she said delightedly. "I think your voice would be fair enough, if you don't mind indulging me, could you please share the tune? I would love to learn it." She was so eager to hear the song, that it didn't cross her mind that it was strange or awkward to ask him to sing to her.

Hans seemed uncertain. He was going to ask that he play it instead, but he remembered the way his back twinged when he reached out to her before. "That may be for the best." He admitted, reluctantly. He felt it supremely awkward to sing for anyone else, but she asked, so he would acquiesce. Besides, he recalled singing back to the sirens, even though there were others around. Why did it bother him now then?

"It's not an uncommon song to hear on land, in the right places." He assured, And at least this song was mostly voice, and didn't need music to be beautiful. So he started at the beginning of the song.

Upon one summer's morning

I carefully did stray

Down by the Walls of Wapping

Where I met a sailor gay

Conversing with a young lass

Who seem'd to be in pain

Saying, William, when you go

I fear you'll ne'er return again

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold

There were more verses, and he seemed to know them all. None of them were like the one he retorted with, however. That had been Hans' own creation, it seemed. The song was soft; unsettling, but affectionate. The song of someone who wouldn't be seeing their love again, whether they knew it or not.

Elsa picked up the melody right away and began softly humming it herself, to try to memorize the tune.

Hans had a lovelier voice than he was willing to admit, Elsa found his voice quite soothing, even with the slightly somber words.

"That was quite beautiful, Thank you for your indulgence," as she continued to hum.

Hans shrugged. "As her Majesty commands." He assured sweetly. She had asked, so he provided. He wouldn't have been truly bidden to her crown, as a prince- but as he had said, he was a prince 'in name only'. Perhaps, as her prisoner, he truly was. Both in practice and in theory.

It remained silent between the two, except for Elsa's hum. Elsa didn't mind silence, it was quite comforting to her, but thought maybe it had been dwelling on too long. Her hum stopped as she tried to rekindle a conversation. " Would you like to share another story? I would be happy to listen, though I might have asked too much of you with my last request and you would rather rest," she offered. Elsa seemed to forget she had other duties to attend to, though she could get to them later. In a strange way she was quite enjoying his company, and did not want to dismiss herself, as if he had been just another one of her obligations.

He thought a bit about it. "What sort of story would you like? I have stories of fighting pirates on the open sea, stories of the mischief I used to get up to as a boy, it just depends on the sort of story you would like to hear. I certainly enjoy talking when I'm away from the Isles, as long as the room doesn't echo." What a strange stipulation.

Both options he offered were quite interesting. She really was curious to know more about his childhood, yet she knew talk of the Isles seemed to inflict pain, and she really didn't want to cause him any more discomfort right now. So decided to opt out for the pirates, since she also knew how much he loved talking about the sea. "A story about pirates sounds compelling. Did you really cross them yourself?"

Hans smiled a bit. "That was my job, protecting the merchant vessels through the area on my ship. I was acting admiral and captain of the Conch Cat. It's a term for a cat with extra toes, they're supposed to be lucky, and as the thirteenth, I needed all the luck I could get. We had a cat on board, 'Big Red'. We called him 'His Highness' because he had the same fur color as me, and we'd direct people to the cat any time they asked for the prince." Hans grinned a little at the thought. He tried to lean back, then stopped and sat forward again. He didn't express pain, but it was pretty clear he had felt it.

"So, one day, we were stuck in a fog. You can't move in a fog, generally, because if it's too thick, you can't see where you're going and might run aground, or worse. So we had the sails away, anchor down, and were just waiting for it to clear. That day, we had a young man named Fletcher up in the Crow's nest. Fletcher's a good lad, and the best set of eyes you could have aboard a ship. Next thing I knew, he was at my elbow saying 'Pirates off the port bow'. I wasn't about to doubt him and his eyes, he had never led me astray before, but I had always fancied playing games with pirates." Hans grinned a little bit.

"I have respect for pirates, truthfully. They treat their crews well, generally, they would sometimes have female captains or pirates among them, they never cared about one's color or creed, only what one could earn. They even had healthcare and took care of their own. I can respect that. So anyway, I told my crew to get their weapons and hide. We were midway through a long journey, we had some empty containers in cargo. So men took their weapons and fled in all corners, looking for places to hide. Even the cat seemed to hide under a bed in wait."

"But of course, as the Captain, I needed to have a primary role in defeating the pirates and bringing them in, and I had every intention to. So I went to the stairwell down into the hold, where most of my crew was hiding away, and I climbed it. Hands on one wall, feet on another, I climbed up above the door, like I've done to escape my brothers before. I even put myself in a nonchalant sitting position with my sword in-lap, and just waited there. Now in truth, that's rather difficult to do for a long period of time, but it was worth it. I held until the pirate captain passed right under me with his crew before. 'Hello, Gentlemen', I said, then dropped down like a cat from a shelf. My crew popped out from hidden compartments and beer barrels and under tables and stairs, and they were quite held fast. There were a few scuffles in getting everyone tied and handled into the brig, but the only one who did any real damage was a female pirate cursing our crew, her crew, and every Navy man under the sun. I admired her spirit, the boatswain not so much, when she near cut a chunk out of his arm, but we stopped her. Made for a nice story back at port."

Hans grinned at the whole story, thinking back fondly to the Navy. The same Navy that nearly killed him. It was strange how he could smile about it.

His grin was contagious. Elsa couldn't stop herself from smiling along as he told the story. It was way more than just his grin though, it was how he told the story with so much passion it was hard not to smile. Reading his letters were nothing compared to hearing them straight from the source. The way he told the story was so lively and immersive Elsa almost felt she was there herself.

She picked up part about his brothers that seemed out of place in the talk about pirates. In fact it almost felt like he had more admiration for the Pirates than his Brothers.

It saddened her that he would no longer be able to do something he spoke of with such fondness.

" His Highness, huh? I don't think I've ever seen a cat with red fur, that would definitely be a sight to see."

"He was a bit, beautiful longhair. The problem with that was, he also liked me, and would lay on my shoulder all the time, so I constantly looked like I was losing my hair from all the fur he left on my uniform." Hans laughed, gesturing around his neck, though the gesture was a little stiff as pain halted him again.

"He'd purr in my ear all the time, a most calming creature. Cats are lucky on boats, and necessary to keep mice out of the stores, and he was a big fluffy sweetheart. Probably still on the boat, he's old but he's not that old." Hans liked cats. It didn't come up often, but he did. Cats and horses.

"Speaking of animals, how is my horse? Sitron has always been good, I was happy to hear you would be kind to him."

The question caught her off guard. She hasn't thought much about his Horse since his arrival. She had sent the horse to royal stables where he would be treated well like she promised, at least she hoped that was the case, she really had to check in on the Sitron now that he mentioned it.

"Sitron, is in the royal stables, he should be properly provided for," Elsa said. "You really care for your horse don't you? It was a bit strange that you brought him along with you."

Hans nodded. "He's been mine since I was a young man. Horses and swords, the Isles are pretty traditional. The only thing I could talk to without feeling like I would be teased or chastised later for what I said- as long as I rode far enough from home, first. I never wanted to be near home anyway, so it worked out nicely for me. I brought him for companionship on the boat."

The Isles seemed like a very traditional nation. There was nothing wrong with traditions, yet the way Hans spoke about his own homeland sounded less like a case of excessive discipline, and more like vigorous cruelty. Elsa didn't know how to respond.

Perhaps Hans caught the look on her face.

"It's not the way it sounds. The crown is kind. My father, and the eldest brother are good men. Great men, in fact. If they adhered to the grim law as well as they say they do, four of us would have been hanged. Two as common thieves in Corona, one is in trouble with the church and is a thief, and me. A treasoner. None of us have been. Brothers are just personally violent toward each-other naturally, I'm led to believe. Though as princes with perhaps too much leeway, it got out of hand on a regular basis." To say the least.

"I do like some of my brothers. It's the seven or so in the middle I can't stand." Slightly over half, as if that helped.

"I can't imagine having so many siblings. I only had one and-" Elsa trialed off for a second. "...that was hard enough."

Hans tilted his head curiously. "Was?" It was strange, Elsa spoke in the past-tense.

"Good god, did something happen to her?" He sounded genuinely concerned for a moment. Ironic, for someone who tried to kill them both.

"Wait, what? No, Anna is fine!" she burst in fluster. Her tone softened. "...I was just think of our childhood, and how I couldn't be with her...even if I wanted to..."

Hans nodded thoughtfully. "Every family has its idiosyncrasies, I suppose. But your relationship with your sister is beautiful and warm. I have that with a few brothers, it can be... lifesaving." He seemed lost in his own thoughts as well.

"Will you continue to visit? Or am I just lucky because I don't have paper to write?" He smiled a little toward her, something of respect in his look. He must have respected her, he continued to tell the truth, or at least to claim to. He wasn't keeping his false neutrality, but he didn't seem to be putting on an act in particular. If he was, he didn't seem to notice.

"Kicking me out already?" she tried to tease. "Hmm... I have to admit listening to your stories was more enjoyable than reading them, makes me reconsider giving you pen and paper... Regardless, I would probably come visit to provide more Ice if you still desire it." She returned a soft smile.

He smiled a little. "I can't, I'm in your home." He pointed out, jokingly. "Surprised the guards stand on the outside. Maybe they realized I never try the doors, though they don't seem to be locked." Hans knew he could open the doors. Then what? Run? He had no desire to, and wasn't certain he could get far even if he weren't injured.

"I'm happy to tell stories any time you ask. Or just talk about whatever. I came here to give truths, not more lies. Whatever you should ask. And, I wouldn't say no to more ice." There was a bit of a smile there that suggested he might have asked even if he didn't need the ice. It would easily have been an excuse for her to visit, though in this case, he actually did need it. "Someday I'll play the harp for you, if you like." He had not forgotten that idea. 'Someday'. A someday he almost seemed to be looking forward to.

Elsa glanced towards the door, when Hans mentioned it, he was always very observant.

His stories she would be eagerly awaiting to hear. Truths on the other hand she was still unsure of, especially ones that had been brought up in the Throne Room, they had been weighing on her mind & would require more deliberation (but she could dwell upon those later).

Elsa had really enjoyed keeping him company. She realized that this was the first time since he returned to Arendelle that she really felt at ease in his presence.

Hans really shouldn't have pledged he'd do whatever she'd ask, cause she could be likely to take him up on his offer, and to his dismay, she might make him sing for her again or worse.

The Ice had truly been more of an excuse to return, but was glad it was purposeful as well.

" I would really like to hear you play, someday," she smiled. There was a brief pause of silence. " I really should take my leave, I do have paperwork still waiting for my attention, and it's very possible that Anna as well."

Hans nodded, hesitantly. "Does she... know that I'm here?" He sounded like he almost didn't want to know the answer. "At least in the dungeons I was fairly certain she wouldn't visit. I'd sooner go through this again than hear what she thinks of me now." He gestured to the wounds on his back. "Though it is a very slim margin." He would sooner endure pain that could kill him than endure one upset woman telling him how horrible he was- but most particularly, the one he had been engaged to.

The question made her tense up. Elsa pursed her lips, something about Hans inquiring about Anna made her uncomfortable. She dismissed it as her over-protectiveness, that was strongest when it involved him.

Anna might not have known that he was here in this room, but she was well aware of his presence. Elsa had informed her sister right away about the Prince's new residence in the dungeon, she did not want to keep that a secret from her. Of course, Anna had been upset with the news, and had wished to visit him just to assault his face with her fist yet again, but Elsa had forbade and fortunately Anna had complied with her wishes.

" She... she is well aware of your return to Arendelle," she answered softly.

Elsa had feared the two crossing paths again, for she knew her sister would give him more than just a piece of her mind. There was a reason Elsa was wary of mentioning Hans as the reason behind her distressed state last night.

She was afraid of telling Anna about her visits with Hans and what she might think them, that's exactly why she hasn't been open to sharing details with her.

There was a higher chance of them having a confrontation now, with Hans now residing within the castle walls, and that scared Elsa. Especially since Elsa was well aware of her sister's curious nature, the risk of her stumbling upon this room was high.

Hans nodded thoughtfully.

"It's okay, I can withstand what's deserved. I did attempt treason, after all. Whatever my reasons, treasons are treasons." He laughed a little, dryly, at his wordplay. "Perhaps she'll take pity if I'm still dressed in bandages." That was a joke, though it was almost certainly true.

Anna was bound to find out sooner or later, but Elsa didn't think she wasn't ready to tell her just yet, mostly because she didn't know how. The clash between Anna and Hans was inevitable, it might be better to let it run its course sooner rather than later. Elsa just felt she ill-prepared to deal encounter and its aftermath.

Elsa let out a slight huff and flashed a grim smile.

" I should go now, " she said softly as shifted awkwardly in place.

Hans closed his eyes briefly, and nodded.

"Until next time, your Majesty. I shall look forward to your next visit." His tone was positive, but it seemed that Hans was still thinking of something grimmer. As she began to leave, he moved to lay down again on his bed. The doctor would be along shortly to change his bandages, anyway.

"Until Next Time," she said heading towards the door. As her hand reached the doorknob she peers back to look at him. She can sense a shift in his mood. "... I can ask the guards to bring you some books, if you like, to occupy your mind." She offers.

He thought about it a bit.

"Your favorites, perhaps? I'm curious what you would choose." He suggested fondly, without telling her his. Of course, as an adventurer, his preference was for adventure novels. But he wanted to know her better. He told her, much, it was her turn to share her interests.

" All right, I'll see what I can find," she said turning the door knob. "I'll keep them a surprise until they arrive." Elsa flashed a playful smile.

Hans nodded, amused by her attempts at suspense, and settled himself on his arms like a great cat again.

Elsa exited the room, gently closing the door behind her. The guards acknowledged her as was customary, but didn't say a word. They were the same two guards as before (they still had not had their rotation), They had known how much time Elsa had spent in there with the Prince. The realization made her cheeks lightly flush in fluster, but it just a twinge of short lived embarrassment. She'd done what she set out to do, which was check-in on Hans, yes, she might have lost track of time, but that was okay for she had enjoyed his company, for once.

She continued on her way back to her study, reminding herself to stop by the library on her way to pick up some books, as promised. Unconsciously, Elsa began humming the tune the Prince had reluctantly sang to her.

#Helsa #IceBurns #Hans x Elsa #Frozen #Frozen FanFiction #Shattered Reflections

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borisbubbles · 5 years

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Eurovision 2010s: 225 - 222

225. Cesár Sampson - ”Nobody But You“ Austria 2018

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[2018 Review here]

If I’m honest, I remembered Cesár as worse than this? lol. My critique from last year still stands, though: This is not third place/jury winner material. However, looking at it now I think “Nobody but you” has only one, GIANT glaring flaw to me and that is the staging. I think the act is a giant ball of pretentious, self-aggrandizing, britney mic’ed RUBBISH. It’s distracting and pointless. Like, WHAT IS THIS???

Which of course, allows me to continue down the same paradigm as I have for the past week: “Nobody but you” is actually a pretty competent gospel song, so... why the contrived staging circus? Just let the song sell itself? It’s not like Cesár lacks the charisma to do so.

Of course once Cesàr gets off that stupid platform, the song actually reaches its full fun potential. Watching Cesàr joyfully skip around the satellite ring injects so much life into “Nobody but you” and dear god it needed that. I would assign green status if the staging were just Cesár interacting with the Altice Arena crowd, but it isn’t, sooooo bye.

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224. Daniel Diges - “Algo pequeñito (Something tiny)” Spain 2010

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Poor Daniel. Always setting himself as the butt of the joke from the moment he entered Eurovision with a song called “Something tiny”, about “the tiny, simple things in life make people happy”, which the dirty of mind (all of us, don’t lie), of course immediately took as a euphemism for his penis. 🍆

Naturally, the misfortune doesn’t just end there, because Daniel ALSO had to deal with a stage invasion on top of that. 😂 Stage invasions are always asshole moves, but I think the incident broke Daniel. You can pinpoint the moment where turns from ’Fake Nice’ into ’Barely Contained Homicidal Maniac’

Tom Dice later revealed in a Flemish talk show that Daniel had an Actually Scary Meltdown afterwards, spewing profanity and throwing water bottles are nearby handlers <3

So after all of that, I WAS ready to stan ironically and show respect for professionalism, as I’ve done with SuRie, but Spain of course had to accept a reprisal to remind everyone of how silly-nilly and banal “Algo pequeñito” really is. Oh well.

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223. Sinplus - “Unbreakable” Switzerland 2012

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Okay, so Sinplus. Here’s the deal with them, and with Eurovision Rock entries in general. Rock is an amazing genre in studio version because of its power spike, but it often transitions into underwhelming lives. It really needs crazy staging, good camerawork or an engaging lead in order to work and Sinplus well... don’t have any of that, lol?

What do they have? Well other than a lot of weird-ass facial expressions (mild <3), Gabriele provides hilariously bad diction:

SWEEM EGENST DA STRUEM. FALLOWEEN YO WALDEST DRIIM, YO WALDEST DRIIM!!! ANBREKABUWL.

However, I need something more to remain invested. You see, 2012 already had a toe-tappingly good rock song in “We are the heroes” and and a comically bad one in “Don’t close your eyes” and both completely cancel “Anbrekabuwl” for me. I still somewhat enjoy Sinplus, but we’ve seen much, much better of their kind.

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222. Marta Jandová & Václav Noid Bárta - “Hope never dies “ Czech Republic 2015

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As my ranking has made clear, “Hope never dies” is not the song for me. It’s one of those sentimental drawn out ballads and that’s just... NOT what I’m into.

However, “Hope never dies” has its charm? Vaclav and Marta have decent chemistry and sing really well (the first instance of ANYONE from Czechoslovakia singing in tune at Eurovision lmfao). LOVE the shoe-throwing Marta does near the end. Love that, even though they NQ’d, hope never died for Czechia and they have managed to qualify thrice in the next four years. Czechia are a great example of a terrible ESC nation reinventing themselves and reaping the rewards, and while “Hope never does” doesn’t *pop* for me, I appreciate that it set the stage for a renaissance that will hopefully result in a victory, very, very soon. CONGRATULATIONS TO LAKE MALAWI FOR BEING THE BEST CZECH ENTRY IN THIS DECADE. Not like that was ever in doubt, but ‘gratz all the same. 🤗

The next update will be the FINAL yellow one :o

#Eurovision #Eurovision Song Contest #Czechia #Vaclav Noid Barta #Martina Jandova #Hope never dies #Switzerland #Sinplus #Unbreakable #Spain #Daniel Diges #Algo pequenito #Cesar Sampson #Nobody but you

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rainy-rose · 5 years

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11/11/11 Tag Game!

Hullo. I was tagged by @fiama-l-hernandez and @thewordreaper Thankies ^^ I am going to these one at a time staring with Fiana’s.

Rules: answer 11 questions, ask 11 questions, tag 11 people.

1. Which oc is the morning person and which is the night owl?

Morning person: Tarioush, Osgar and Takeru

Night owl: Elise

Vincent used to oscillate between the two, but nowadays he is tired all the time and just wants to sleep.

2. How would your Oc’s fare in a school setting? Who excels more at school and who is counting the days until they graduate?

Vincent excelled but school was meh for him.

Takeru was good at studying, but had limited patience for it, so he counted the days until graduation so he could do his own thing without assignments to derail him from his work.

Tarioush and Elise both enjoyed school and did quite well, excelling in different fields, arts for Tarioush and history for Elise. None of which have anything to do with their current occupation but oh well!

Osgar is tricky. High school is a black hole, he skipped a lot, drank a lot, got into fights a lot. He cleaned up his act in college, but didn’t actually like it until his last year.

3. What’s your favorite writing tip?

I think it’s a mix of something I heard in a true crime podcast. Basically it boiled down to: write for yourself and enjoy what you write because it is your story and it doesn’t matter if it gets published or not. Also when looking at reviews don’t take everything to heard because there will always be people who hate your work.

4. What food do you associate with you OCs?

Elise: soups, baked potatoes, also fast food burgers and shaworma

Tarioush and Osgar: homemade meals, cakes, muffins, salmon with cherry tomatoes

Vincent: cabbage rolls with polenta, fried potatoes with onion and bacon bits, apple pie with cinnamon and ice cream

Takeru: sushi, udon noodles, miso soup, gyoza all of them vegan. vegan omurice

5. Who is your main character’s favorite person and why?

For Elise it’s Tarioush hands down. They grew up together and have been beside each other for everything. Her older brother Valen and Osgar come close second because of their warmth.

6. What is the weirdest way you’ve ever been inspired?

My inspirations comes in bursts so I don’t really know... Probably hearing random snippets of conversations.

7. Favorite writing snack?

I write mostly at work, so I don’t really snack while I am there.

8. What’s your favorite scene in you WIP so far?

I don’t think I have a favorite one. There were a few moments between Elise and Tarioush or Vincent and Takeru where my brain “friendship at it’s finest! yes!”. There is also this which is completely out of context and pretty far into the story as opposed to where I am at right now, but the prompt fit so I went with it. I’ll have to edit it a lot, but I like how the interaction between Vince and Tari turned out.

9. Songs you associate with you WIP?

Errr, for the moment I have only Trooper - Voodo which Elise was trying to sing along to while driving. May High Hopes by Panic! At the Disco and Bad Company and Jekyll and Hyde by Five Finger Death Punch because I have been listening to playlists that have included them and my hand just flowed on the paper :)).

10. Are you inspired by any media?

Some movie scenes. I got inspired a bit by a scene in Marry Poppins Returns to create The Sentinels which are small glowing orbs use for surveillance.

11. How badly would truth or dare between your characters end?

They might end up drunk, depending on their mood. Osgar and Tari would kiss a lot cause of Elise, Vincent and Takeru would do any dare thrown at them cause they are nit good at telling the truth. That of Vince would just lie to Takeru’s mild annoyance. Takeru would point out when anyone is not being honest and have them admit to it. Elise gives the most random dares and at some point they just keep asking her to list heavy stuff to find the limit to her strength. Ingrid face palms a lot cause she is surrounded by children! All of them! Even the 3 who are her age!

Phew, that was a lot, and now for the second set. Am I bending the rules at this point? Most likely!

1. What colours do you associate with your wip ?

I used a lot of red, green, shades of brown and black and white so I guess those.

2. Summarise the beginning of your wip in three to five words.

Escaped serial killer brings panic among law enforcement. 8 words...

3. What character do you like writing about the most ?

I think both Vince and Elise because of the contrast between their personalities.

4. Did your plot ever make any major deviations from what you originally planned ?

My current first draft also functions as a outline so there is no original plan per se. Although! I ended up writing a character having a panic attack in what was supposed to be a semi domestic ending for a calm chapter.

5. Do you listen to music while writing ? If you do, what kind ?

Yes, mostly rock music with all it’s variations. Whatever spotify can throw at me for a particular band and bands similar to the one I initially searched for.

6. Favourite animals of your main characters !

Elise loves snakes! She used to raise them with her family back in Ireland and her first apartment in Glasgow still has snake decorations. She wants to get some on the safe house as well.

7. What was the inspiration behind your current wip ?

The role play I did on a Romanian forum years ago. It was Harry Potter based, but I didn’t get the chance to write that much on it. I liked the backstory I had for Elise and wanted to use her again. Same for Takeru. Tarioush is based on one of my current RP characters and Vincent is the result of other characters combined.

For the plot itself, I knew I wanted Elise to be in law enforcement and that somebody in her past had a grudge on her so I went from there.

8. Which author would you compare your writing style to ?

I am still finding my style so I don’t know. + I tent to avoid comparing myself to others because Everybody’s style is different so.

9. Is there a new form of writing that you plan on attempting in the future ?

I don’t think so, no.

10. What instruments do your main characters play/ play want to play ?

Takeru plays the piano and that is kind of it :)). And he is not really a main character yet.

11. Are there any of your characters you would love to meet irl ?

Maybe Tarioush and Osgar cause they are adorable. And Hiei, Takeru’s falcon, but not Takeru cause his silence is intimidating.

My question:

1. What bands/kind of music do your OCs listen to?

2. Are there any animals in your wip? What is their role?

3. Describe your OCs in 3 words each.

4. Does your OC swear? Why? Why not?

5. Is there an object in your wip that keeps resurfacing? Can you share a bit of the story behind it?

6. What is the predominant climate in your wip?

7. Are there any myths/fairy tales your OCs grew up with?

8. Do any of your OCs carry any specific objects with them>?

9. Did your longhand or went straight into typing?

10. What are the main themes of your wip(s)?

11. Do your OCs have any behavioral/nervous habits?

Tagging: @igotablankpage @insearchof-solace @zburatorii @virginiawritesforlovers @kobalt-ink @24zallurabbits @shaping-infinity @phoenix-the-write-thing @isanyonetoknow @writernour @concerningwolves

#tag game #tag #11/11/11 tag #violetvineyard #writeblr #my ocs #writing #silver serpent

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the-blissful-one · 4 years

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1 - 5, 9,11, 13, 20,22-30,34

Thank you, thank you. I generally thought I wouldn't get anything on the ask meme, so you made my day when I noticed the ask :3 I will do 30-34 in another ask, since it was asked there too! Hope you enjoy and never be too shy to send a message if you feel like it <3

1) name three things (internal and or external) that you like about yourself ohhhh, this one is hard....I will try, but I generally do not find things about myself I don’t like but I know it’s import for self image and confidence. 1): I do have thick eyebrows and long eyelashes that curl naturally upwards. I don’t have to wear make up. I don’t to that regularly, but its pretty nice to get that for free 2) I build muscle pretty easily. 3) I have a genetic skin disorder that controls my life in milds ways, but I try to not let it get to me too much.

2) what do you like to do when you’re sad? When I’m sad, I usually just lie down on the bed or the floor and listen to some instrumental music on repeat. I lie there until I fell ready to face the world again. Sometimes I also fall asleep.

3) what is the cutest animal? This is hard one. But hedgehogs are pretty cute and I think snakes are too. Generally speaking, house pets are all too cute too. And also turtles and frogs....plus like every animal walking on earth.

4) talk about your crush/significant other. Neither have a crush or a significant other, sorry, can't do this one!

5) rant about something that makes you happy. Generally, I could talk about astrophysics all day long. or pokemon or whatever game i’m currently into. But I also want to talk about haikyuu. I wish I had someone to talk to it about on a regular basis. The anime and manga is incredible. It’s so deeper than just volleyball. It’s about friendship, figuring out what you want in your young adult years and spending a little bit of each day doing something you love. It’s about compassion and hunger for life. It’s about building bridges with people you never guessed to meet and working on yourself to become abetter version of yesterday. It was the reason I started to play volleyball. Its about loss and picking yourself off the ground when your down.

9) what is a positive coping mechanism you use when you’re sad (ex: drawing, cooking, exercise, listening to music, ect.)? I listen to music when I’m sad, but I have a thing going where I only listen to that kind of music when Im really sad and depressed. If I do tha on the way to uni for example: I’m scared of getting sad.

11) what is a random act of kindness someone did that you’ll never forget? Well, I kind of fall in love with anyone that is nice to me bc I expect people to get tired of me (note that I’m joking). But I remember when I was in the military, during basic training. I had broken my foot, but we didn’t know that yet. We first thought I had only sprained it. So I hopped around on crutches when the others were marching, in the woods and outside of it. Every night since that happened in the first week, I couldn’t sleep because of the pain. I didn’t want to eat because I felt awful and was in pain. On the 5th day of feeling shitty, the crutches and I, managed to hop up to the second floor of the barrack we slept in. I was going to talk to the sergeant on call for help. He wasn’t there, but there was another private there that noticed that I was in distress. I asked him where the sergeant was and he just said he didn’t know. I sat down on the staircase, feeling so exhausted from the week prior. He asked me kindly if I was okay, and I started crying. It had been a shitty week with a lot of pain and little food, and little of sleep and finally it caught up to me. Another one notice me and him (since he was a friend) and the guy that asked me if I was okay asked his friend if he could find the sergeant on call. While the friend went on a little search, the guy sat down with me and talked to me to calm me down until the sergeant came and helped me. He was really sweet towards me and it’s too bad I don’t remember his name.

13) whats a happy memory you have? Lots, I do have lots. I like easy memories. Those that are simple to make, but rare to happen. I have a memory of me an my friend sitting at the bar counter in my kitchen and my mother is making waffles for us. I have a memory of my best friend and I sitting on the veranda, eating chocolate and strawberries in the midnight sun. I have a memory of my and my friend playing mario kart until 03.00 in the morning. I have a good memory of last summer when my gran parents, my cousin and I was at the beach and having a bonfire to celebrate the summer. I have memories of me and my friends driving on road trips I have a good memory of me and my friend deciding to go on a small mountain hike in the middle of the night.

20) show me a stupid picture you have saved that makes you smile In my study group we are four. Three out of us as have a moomin bottle, so regularly, I draw a moomin character on a sticky-note so she can also have a moomin bottle. Sorry the bad picture :<

22) what is/was your favourite subject in school and why? I’m a math and physics nerd. I do like physics a tad bit better, since then i can learn about space and starts and stuff like that. I did also like sport.

23) what is your go to feel good song? Queen- Don’t stop me now. The chainsmokers: Don’t say Bag Raiders- Shooting stars (the meme song, don’t judge me)

24) what never fails to lighten up your day? I don’t really know. I do have things that makes me a little bit of happy throughout the day, but noting that can turn a bad day to a good day.

25) favourite plants? I have like 40 plants in my room! I love plants too much. My absolute favourite must be sunflowers. Yellow is my favourite and I just think they are so pretty. I always want to buy myself a bouquet in the summer, but I always just skip it. I also like plants that hang over their pots.

26) rainy days or sunny days? Depends on what I want to do. Sometimes a rainy day comes in handy, sometimes a sunny day. Sometimes a rainy day can feel energising and sometimes a sunny day is what’s needed. I can't decide, sorry ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also, people should also ask if snowy weather is preferred, because when it’s snowing- I am thriving!!!!

27) perfect rainy day activities? Lie on the floor with the veranda door open and listen to the rain. Also, jumping in poodles. When I walk to university on rainy days, i purposely walk into the poodles when I’m walking home just for the fun of it.

28) favorite craft? Drawing and painting. Usually don’t have the energy for it, but I do really love it when I do it.

29) favorite vine/tiktok/short video? Vine: That guy that almost dropped his croissant! Tiktok: There is this one I found in the start of march last year. It’s too long down for me to look at it, but it’s generally this inceptions thing and its just about a guys that is tripping kind of. And it’s really funny and not that serious. Video: There is a dog edit. Were the dog sneezes a lot of times and then the dog explodes. It last like under 10 seconds, but it’s just a description on what the internet is really about. Animal edits in general is pretty high up on my list.

#ask meme #ask me anything #please #there are so fun to read and to do #:D

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valianova · 7 years

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Get to know me tag

Tagged by @teakoii

1. What is your full name? Valentina

2. What is your nickname? Tina, V, recently I’ve been called Val, occasionally Robin. Online I’m usually called Bookie or Chat Mom.

3. What is your zodiac sign? Pisces~

4. What is your favorite book series? The Leviathan Series by Scott Westerfield probably.

5. Do you believe in aliens or ghosts? Yes.

6. Who is your favorite author? I used to exclaim PATRICIA WREDE when I was a tween, but now I’m not so sure. Ray Bradbury? C. S. Lewis? Moliere? Who knows! Not me, that’s who.

7. What is your favorite radio station? 98.3 when I’m home in California. Otherwise . . . *shrugs*

8. What is your favorite flavor of anything? Strawberry probably. Peach is good too. If we’re talking ice cream, Vanilla, Coffee, or Strawberry. I don’t have complicated tastes.

9. What word would you use often to describe something great or wonderful? Precious. Absolutely amazing. Super.

10. What is your current favorite song? [https://youtu.be/ilw-qmqZ5zY] This one, for some reason. Reality--Lost Frequencies. I’m a sucker for chill songs.

11. What is your favorite word? Perspicacious. Or maybe Darling.

12. What was the last song you listened to? Probably something weebish. Been mostly watching anime lately. It might have been Genghis Khan. Oh, no it was Kpop. I was showing a friend a Kpop group.

13. What TV show would you recommend for everybody to watch? American? Anime? Uh, probably. . . ATLA, BNHA, Haikyuu, Voltron, or something similar.

14. What is your favorite movie to watch when you’re feeling down? I don’t usually rewatch movies, I do watch Haikyuu when I’m feeling bad. I also have always been attached to the movie Singing in the Rain and Oscar.

15. Do you play video games? If I can. I usually don’t have a platform.

16. What is your biggest fear? DEEP OCEAN. Most definitely. I like the beach just fine, but anything down deep terrifies me. Like crap, so many things can go wrong.

17. What is your best quality, in your opinion? I don’t get angry, or more accurately, I’m not upset when others have conflicting opinions if they’re reasonable about them.

18. What is your worst quality, in your opinion? Laziness. I’m all for relaxing, but I can and will take it too far quite often.

19. Do you like cats or dogs better? I freaking adore them both, but cats are my soul animals most definitely.

20. What is your favorite season? Summer

21. Are you in a relationship? Probably never.

22. What is something you miss from your childhood? Innocence.

23. Who is your best friend? That’s a hard question at the moment, for multiple reasons.

24. What is your eye color? Black.

25. What is your hair color? Black.

26. Who is someone you love? A great many people. It hurts and it’s scary.

27. Who is someone you trust? Depends on what I’m trusting them with.

28. Who is someone you think about often? Too many people. Um, friends I don’t get to see like @teakoii and my Jesika. My friends who just graduated. People I’m just getting to know. People I don’t see/talk to anymore.

29. Are you currently excited about/for something? Relaxing. Breathing and not feeling anxious, I guess.

30. What is your biggest obsession? . . . Haikyuu?

31. What was your favorite TV show as a child? Code Lyoko? ATLA? I had a lot of fun shows as a kid.

32. Who of the opposite gender can you tell anything to, if anyone? My best friend, but the idiot has to live very far away.

33. Are you superstitious? Casually, I am I suppose. I avoid breaking mirrors, I throw salt over my shoulder if I spill it, etc. I don’t think too much about it but I do a lot of traditional superstitious things.

34. Do you have any unusual phobias? I used to be scared of skeletons, but that’s not really a phobia.

35. Do you prefer to be in front of the camera or behind it? Behind it.

36. What is your favorite hobby? Nail art I suppose. Or writing.

37. What was the last book you read? Besides school? A crappy top twenty from the teen section. I was disappointed tbh. For school, I read a Jane Austen book recently.

38. What was the last movie you watched? Batman: Lego Movie (finally!!)

39. What musical instruments do you play, if any? I sing. I don’t count that, but my music friends and acquaintances tell me to count it, sooooo.

40. What is your favorite animal? I really really love animals, but cats make me super happy. Dogs as well. I LOVE guinea pigs. Oh, geez. I don’t know.

41. What are your top 5 favorite Tumblr blogs that you follow? @teakoii, @all1sees @engekihaikyuu @lightprince @miyakuli @littleballofspace @theonegirlunderyourbed @embrace-the-yaoi Couldn’t make up my mind. And of course, I can’t leave out @thatsthat24 It’s just impossible tbh.

42. What superpower do you wish you had? It’s a toss-up between flying and invisibility. I’m so original. I know.

43. When and where do you feel most at peace? When I’m not at college and people aren’t actively expecting things of me. Probably curled up with a cup of coffee and good show to watch. If possible, watching things with family and my closest friends.

44. What makes you smile? Almost anything. I smile a lot.

45. What sports do you play, if any? I used to be a competitive gymnast and a ballerina. Learned volleyball for a few years as well. I’ve been interested in getting into dance again lately.

46. What is your favorite drink? Oh! I just answered this the other day! For soda: Cherry Coke || Dr. Pepper with lemon || Strawberry Crush || Ginger Ale Then it’s coffee (sweet or unsweet, I like it all), hibiscus tea, and chrysanthemum iced tea.

47. When was the last time you wrote a hand-written letter or note to somebody? Like a month ago probably. I handwrite a lot of things and like to send letters to anyone and everyone who enjoys them.

48. Are you afraid of heights? Definitely not. I love them.

49. What is your biggest pet peeve? People leaving their shopping carts out.

50. Have you ever been to a concert? Yes.

51. Are you vegan/vegetarian? Nope. For sure not.

52. When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up? A vet or an animal cop. I think I used to want to be a teacher too. Radio talk show host and a weatherlady/news anchor.

53. What fictional world would you like to live in? Hmm, tough. Maybe BNHA’s or the new show’s universe I’ve been watching lately.

54. What is something you worry about? EVERYTHING.

55. Are you scared of the dark? Depends on the kind of darkness. Natural darkness is calming, but the staircase at night still freaks me out a little tbh.

56. Do you like to sing? Veeeeery much yes.

57. Have you ever skipped school? Yes. Mostly when I’m feeling really bad.

58. What is your favorite place on the planet? Pike’s Place Market

59. Where would you like to live? Seattle or just somewhere far away.

60. Do you have any pets? A dog and a bird at the moment.

61. Are you more of an early bird or a night owl? Most definitely a night owl.

62. Do you like sunrises or sunsets better? Sunsets I see more often, but sunrises have their own kind of charm.

63. Do you know how to drive? Yes.

64. Do you prefer earbuds or headphones? Headphones.

65. Have you ever had braces? Never.

66. What is your favorite genre of music? A little of everything, but I tend to avoid screamo, rap, and usually country.

67. Who is your hero? My parents probably. They’re superheroes in their own ways.

68. Do you read comic books? Occasionally. I want to read more.

69. What makes you the most angry? Not much, but people who refuse to change bad habits they know are wrong and hurt others in the process make me upset.

70. Do you prefer to read on an electronic device or with a real book? Real book. 100%

71. What is your favorite subject in school? Uhh, I enjoyed balancing out equations in math waaaay too much. Really enjoying studying English at the moment in college. I love seismology as well.

72. Do you have any siblings? Older sister.

73. What was the last thing you bought? Groceries. Lots of them.

74. How tall are you? 5′3

75. Can you cook? Sorta. I can get by cooking things I enjoy.

76. What are three things that you love? People in general, pretty lights (city lanscapes, stars, etc.), and good food.

77. What are three things that you hate? Abusive relationships, unnecessary conflict, and anxiety.

78. Do you have more female friends or more male friends? Female

79. What is your sexual orientation? Straight

80. Where do you currently live? America

81. Who was the last person you texted? My sister

82. When was the last time you cried? Recently probably. I’ve been a wreck from this last semester.

83. Who is your favorite YouTuber? ReacttotheK

84. Do you like to take selfies? Not ones I show people.

85. What is your favorite app? Instagram or Line I guess.

86. What is your relationship with your parent(s) like? I love them indescribably.

87. What is your favorite foreign accent? Korean

88. What is a place that you’ve never been to, but you want to visit? Venice

89. What is your favorite number? 8 and 13

90. Can you juggle? Nope.

91. Are you religious? Yes.

92. Do you find outer space of the deep ocean to be more interesting? Space is amazing but, remember my immense fear of deep ocean? There’s sooooo many amazing things down there to learn about!

93. Do you consider yourself to be a daredevil? Definitely.

94. Are you allergic to anything? Soaps, perfumes, bandaids, certain medications, and pineapple (to a mild extent).

95. Can you curl your tongue? Yup, the taco and the clover.

96. Can you wiggle your ears? Nah.

97. How often do you admit that you were wrong about something? Whenever I can.

98. Do you prefer the forest or the beach? Forests are gorgeous, but the beach probably. California has it’s hooks in me, I suppose.

99. What is your favorite piece of advice that anyone has ever given you? "You can give up, I won’t mind. But you definitely will. So just keep going.”

100. Are you a good liar? I’m not sure to be honest. I don’t lie, but I can’t say I never have. I think I am a good liar, but I hope I never have to prove it.

101. What is your Hogwarts House? Slytherin.

102. Do you talk to yourself? Yeah.

103. Are you an introvert or an extrovert? An extroverted introvert.

104. Do you keep a journal/diary? No.

105. Do you believe in second chances? Definitely.

106. If you found a wallet full of money on the ground, what would you do? Find who it belongs to, however I can.

107. Do you believe that people are capable of change? For sure.

108. Are you ticklish? Not at all.

109. Have you ever been on a plane? Lots of times.

110. Do you have any piercings? Double piercings in my ears.

111. What fictional character do you wish was real? Probably all the ones I’ve ever had a crush on.

112. Do you have any tattoos? Nope.

113. What is the best decision that you’ve made in your life so far? To keep living.

114. Do you believe in karma? In a sense. When you continually do good/nice things to people, you’re bound to find those who will return the favor and vice versa.

115. Do you wear glasses or contacts? Both.

116. Do you want children? Yes, but not until I can settle down properly.

117. Who is the smartest person you know? Some of my college teachers. My family are all very intelligent people too.

118. What is your most embarrassing memory? My skirt got pulled off in front of a few people when I was a little girl. Still stuck in my memory. Or maybe when I misunderstood what my Spanish teacher was asking and rambled some nonsense in response.

119. Have you ever pulled an all-nighter? Many times.

120. What color are most of you clothes? Black.

121. Do you like adventures? Of course!

122. Have you ever been on TV? For an interview once, I think. It was local so I didn’t pay much attention to it.

123. How old are you? 22

124. What is your favorite quote? Um, I collect them, so here are a few, “Everyone wants sunshine, no one wants rain, but you can’t have a rainbow without a little rain.” “Sticks and stones only break bones, but words can shatter a soul.” “Don’t cling to a mistake just because you took a long time making it.”

125. Do you prefer sweet or savory foods? Savory probably. you don’t have to do it but if you want to @all1sees, @lightprince, @embrace-the-yaoi, @littleballofspace, @theonegirlunderyourbed and anyone else who feels like it, tag me. I’d love to read your answers.

#get to know me #get to know me tag #teakoii #you're lovely #thanks for tagging me #misc

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borisartamonovblog · 6 years

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The enigmatic abductor. (Chapters 1 - 3)

Chapter 1.

Her eyes just opened, it seems, by themselves, breaking the course of empty thoughts, which are chewed in the sensitive morning sleep. Thoughts which had little important in itself, it is they are forcing her for a while to forget the reality which sometimes is hard to remember by those who is just waking up. The first moment of the stopping these thoughts and an indifference, it has changed by astonishment: during any part of second Inga has not understood but felt that this reality is going to be more than strange. In a strange and cramped interior the sun rays of morning struggled through stripy walls like tarpaulin one.

Inga has stirred instinctively. A mild pain signaling from back, in a moment it has helped her to remember everything. The fate gave an unusual reversal: it flung her not from a nightmarish dream in the carefree reality, but quite the contrary. That, it seemed, which would be a dream, it declared itself clearly, pretending to the most real existence. That, what nobody would believe in, if to tell anyone, it turned out enough palpable.

And the nature, it seemed, there was no way it wanted to admit the horror of her situation. A green forest was swarming with various life forms, filled up with joyful songs of the birds. It was as if all things on the outside wanted to congratulate and to welcome her and the fact that she is found in a captivity. Somewhere in secret nooks of her conscience she had discovered a treacherous thought: "And why do you actually grow hysterical? Look how it's beautiful all around! Here's nothing as terrible one. Is it well by cause of the small troubles..." Immediately another thought had interrupted the first one, but without words. It seemed to her the parents, the former classmates, families from a large courtyard of Moscow, all of them, young and old alike. What if they will find out, all the details?! And what if they will find out, how just she have connived all this? But the common sense had interrupted this thought immediately, for that was going too far. Certainly they would cannot reach for her sincere deep thoughts. Are they like Messing really? (Messing - a Polish Jew, the famous psychic, was escaped from Hitler's Germany in the USSR - author's note).

Of course, for a while it was not anything terrible. If the monster would like to kill her, he had lots and lots of very good instants for this, and long ago he would profit from the favourable situation for realization any fancy which is able to come to the sinful mind of a maniac. But even he didn't rape her so far. Though in this Brezhnev's epoch nobody of her known people would dare to consider this man as a normal one, but how exactly he had calculated all! Quickly she has played mentally over the events of the last weeks: it seems, her captor didn't do just only one a mistake. And let he is a madman, but he is a clever, intricate and calculating madman and it is doubtful he would grow hysterical in his detriment or to the detriment of a cause which he has ventured. Inga has caught herself that she is thinking, she is thinking independently, logically and correctly. Prior to that, she had never to work mentally in this way. It seemed, all thought together, that is she and all who was near her. And there was not a fear "to lose the way", then just they would correct her thinking. It seemed, all knew the way and all knew, if one may say so, a certain "timetable" in which it is indicated, in what age one must or one must not do something, that is the "timetable"which all "normal" people lives under. But the "timetable" has not foreseen the things were going on last days with her. She was thrown either into a remote past or into another planet, almost into the other world, and if to compare this with the real life, it was not more alike than a sudden arrest and jail for anyone who never kept in mind anything like this. Today her brain worked, as never before, accurately and clearly, and she suspected whereof so. The day before yesterday, the evening her tormentor had given her some trash, adding secretly something into the tea with jam made in the mess tin and poured into the mugs. By all appearance, he did by himself go to some town because he came back with two big backpacks full of food supplies and all sorts of small things needed in the forest. And yesterday she had wakened well over afternoon for some minutes before his return and not that to run away, but even it was difficult to move with a finger because of the exact influence some hypnotic or drug. She would have time to move away only several hundred metres, one day this happened and she knew, what she would get for this. At all she had no desire to get it again. However, there was nothing special what she would can be glad for: this morning as every other one, she was waiting for the shame, the cold and the pain. -Have you awoken, broad? - a hoarse and harsh voice had heard from outside. (Unfortunately, this was not Vysotsky, though the voice was resembling). -What? Is it time? -It's half past ten. You may drowse a half an hour else. Or do you want it now? -I've better more later. -The law is on your side, babe. However, about ten minutes she was bored with this tedious waiting and she had ventured to bring closer this morning rite: earlier start - earlier end. And having a good sleep as never before, she hated to lie idle. According as this mad rite ordered, she had taken off the turtleneck sweater, the bra, the tracksuit pants and even the panties and had come out all naked, like those who would plunge into the slough. -All right. It's hard to keep a place after such rest. Now then! Turn your back! Inga obeyed. All her back was covered over fresh welts from the yesterday's and more early wild rites and her careless faults. More lowly, greatly paled traces of that unforgettable whipping for the unsuccessful escape and the resistance. That time he had run down her and, grabbing the ear, bent down her to the ground. She tried to kick him with her foot on the genitals, but failed. Further he led her silently and imperturbably. "So, it's probably, once, Joan of Arc was led in her last way " - Inga remembered from the lesson of history. Then she was terrified, and she tried to hide the fear by a naive question: -Even you don't scold me. Why is that? -Now my lash is going to scold you. On the way to the reprisal, her childhood came to mind involuntarily. Sometimes the father punished her with belt, but the mother stood up for her always, while calling him as a nutcase and a pervert, which made him blush and after this he tolerated Inga's tricks a long time. However the same mother, in case of significant faults, punished her very seldom but with cruelty. Last time Inga caught very hot at the age of fourteen years old, when her numerous fake signatures of parents under an obstinately growing number of the bad grades in her pupil's book were disclosed. Unexpectedly she had grown bolder, reasoning with herself: "It's awful only for the children. Until what age I will be afraid of flogging? Mom will whip my bottom, no big deal!" At that time she had obeyed mother, baring her bum, which was protuberant already at that age, and allowing to clutch her head between mother's knees. At first, Inga had stood silently seven or eight swats of jumping rope. Wanting to hide the increasing pain, this became already unbearable for her, Inga had given voice: -Mom... it hurts... indeed... - this sounded with a tone clearly ironical, what could be translated in the ordinary language as follows: "Although, it is unpleasantly a little, but you, mom, are doing nonsense". But the skipping-rope continued to whistle spanking, already Inga didn't control herself, but she was screaming that usually young girls scream in such cases: -Ouch, what are you doing?! What hurts! It hurts! Ouch, don't...ouch! I will not anymore! - And finally shouting: "Oh I can't stand it anymore!", - she had turned into a chaotic, frenzied, breathless and confused yell which had quietened down just after the last lash and was changed into a hissing and a groaning in a low voice. Shouting several swear words at her address, the mother whipped Inga one time else, and now the only swat provoked a loud scream of the girl. After the punishment she had looked with tearful eyes at the window and seen an adult fellow, a land surveyor who was standing with a surveyor's pole at the corner of the house and listening. She was ashamed: he well heard just she be spanked and it is good that he didn't know her. However this recent flogging for the escape had surpassed all that she had experienced in childhood. That time he had ordered her to encompass a thick tree with outstretched arms, tied together her wrists not touching each other a little, trailed another rope under the armpits, winding round the shoulders and tied the tags of the rope to an upper bough, to limit her ability to squat down to the ground. Also the malefactor had tied every foot separately below, that is with ankle joint, she wouldn't try to cover her bottom by feet. Then leisurely, he had taken from the pocket a wire was winded and folded in two, the round cross-section in the cover of polyvinyl chloride, the inside is of copper. In the form folded in two, the wire was a little longer than a half of meter. A melodious whizz was heard. Surrounding the left hip and the left buttock, the flexible tags of the wire have stuck into the right one. The first instants Inga felt nothing, but right away the pain was almost suffocating, it captivated her without intention to abate. -Ouch,- the girl uttered a moan almost in a whisper, throwing back her head. A second following swat was as well surrounding and melodious, then a third, a forth, and all of them were fallen on the same point almost. A loud yell was heard in the forest. The barrier of her standing was crushed. Baring her teeth and staring with a pleading look in the monster's face, Inga yelled at the top of her voice, but this didn't keep him from flogging. He, entering into the taste, continued to welt her resilient and white bottoms which she twisted with and jumped up, and all this was very seductive, even for seasoned types. Her body, it seemed, hoped instinctively to evade the unwanted and cruel pain and herself was ready for all the things this maniac would demand from her, if only to stop this torture. -What do you want, I'll do anything! Ah-ah-ah-ah! What do you want, I'll do it! - she cried at the top of her lungs with a hoarse voice, frightening away the neighbouring birds and the wild boars. And the whip continued a long time to pierce, now into one point several times, now into another by the same way, and she thought that he intends to flog her to death, and if it is so - let faster. Such thoughts, accompanied with her heartrending cries, flowed not smoothly, as usual, but they flashed and disappeared like lightnings in the night. And now he was stroking her hair, effortlessly pulling her ears, so why is she still screaming? Inga had stopped screaming and burst into tears. The cascade of tears relieved her pleasantly off all the simmering and aching things in her soul, which were ripened during these six years of the adult life without tears, when one starts to swallow silently insults and troubles, pretending to be imperturbable, becoming a hypocrite, so the soul harden, the look goes out, every trifle deposits on his shoulders, accumulating to old age as a heavy load of the past, which one bends under, what after nothing makes him happy any more, neither mountains, seas and forests, nor the dawns and the sunsets. Inga wailed and the soothing pain was changed into the feeling of a catharsis. So a forest is cleared after a tearing storming downpour. As she had become a little girl again, ready to fulfil any whims of cruel parents who had just punished her, and she, being driven into the infernal ecstasy by the cruel pain, had promised them to obey at all, not affected, but enough sincerely. The nice feeling of the body and soul, who were shuddering in sobbing, was changed gradually into the disappointment at her own weakness in comparison with partisans of the Resistance, the Christian martyrs and victims of the inquisition. "They hadn't submitted because of severe trials, but I have given in to a simple flogging. It is possible, he is going to screw me; it may be he will make me to perform fellatio. Let be it! It serves me right! Let all burns in the blue blaze!" An idea flashed through her mind timidly "He is like an old man, but not a bad chap" immediately was restrained in imagination by hooting faces of all the familiar groups which with she had to associate last times. -You want to overcome the pain, however you use a wrong way. I will teach you, broad, but there is a time for everything. You are dead! You are dead not here, not today, but long ago before I had abducted you. Now you are dead, but I want to make you alive. If God's will for this, I will get my way! He looked at her tenderly and enthusiastically and continued: -Henceforth you are a forest broad, my forest helpmate. You will obey me at all. I will force you to obey! With me you must be more sincere, more outspoken, than with yourself you are, because you don't know yourself. You have driven into the subconsciousness all your essence and imagined that you are the same like all the rest of the world. But God didn't create identical humans each with other. On the Earth you would not find a couple of identical men as well as you will not find a couple of identical fingerprints. There aren't even identical flies, not saying about humans. So take the trouble to learn, who are you? -My name is Inga. My mother had called me like this in honour a figure skate or a gymnast, don't remember. -You could be named Maria, Valentine, Lucia but even Nick in prison, such a thing exists, then I will tell you about this. So take the trouble to learn not a label, which one had stuck on you, but your essence. After these words a mute scene followed. He looked in her face, and she was taken aback a little, trying to digest what she has heard. -I'm your lord, your master. I'm your teacher. You are under my power. Do you want, I will flog you again as fifteen minutes ago? Inga began to worry, her lips began to tremble, her eyes flickered uneasily, and she had fallen to her knees. -You are my teacher, you are my lord, I'm your helpmate, I'm your forest broad, I'll do anything for you. Do with me what you will. But I beg of you, don't so painful, don't so cruelly! - she blanched and her eyes filled with tears. -Already it depends on you. All the same, I will flog you every morning, but slightly, as a formality, for you don't forget your place. And you yourself must ask me this doing. And now descend to the brook, wash your face and go learn the Code of prisoner's behaviour. After all, you are my prisoner now,- he became thoughtful.- Maybe some day you will thank me with all your heart. That day she learnt the typed Code of prisoner behaviour, and her tormentor didn't touch her with finger anymore. And now, that is two weeks later, she naked was standing in front of him, turning her back being flogged, and he, like a painter, was examining his traceries on her svelte and young flesh. > Chapter 2. -How beautiful you are! But let your back takes a rest a little, and this prankish thing is wearying for amusements and one must play with it,- he said, pinching Inga gently on the very middle of the right buttock. Now come on the log! Inga obeied, came to the log, mounted on it, squatted down. It was their toilet. The abductor prepared some paper already. She had to ease herself before his eyes looking at him, without looking aside in the process. So he trained her to be sincere, to exceed all the bounds in frankness. She must uncover all parts of her body, all nooks of her soul before him which just is possible to open. The gnats, feeling a gratuitous pray, flew together little by little. Two stung her already by their probosces into the haunch, several of them stung her into the back, one stung into the buttock, another one stung into the most vulnerable place, provoking an unbearable itch. Inga made an effort and evacuated finally. -I've done all. As usual, her warder came to her place with papers in his hand, without any disgust he wiped up her. Inga at all did not want to get used to it, and blushed with shame. He threw the paper on the bonfire site and had set fire to it. Obeying to a crazy custom, Inga walked to the river along the trodden path where nobody went, excepting both them. The malefactor followed her closely. The river flowed parallel to a stream falling into it, with spring ice-cold water. This stream flowed along a bottom of a deep ravine and their tent was standing above. Even in the river the water was colder than in others neighbouring rivers, because these cold streams fell in the same river. Descending the steep and high bank is covered by forest, Inga came in the water, higher her knees a little. The abductor wearing always only a swimming trunks at such cases, came next, taking a soap, leaving the soap dish on the ground. Washing her some rest that was not wiped with paper, he has soaped his hand again and stuck his soaped middle finger into her narrow hole. Inga has twitched involuntarily. Certainly, it would be quite agreeable, if a thought about other people didn't make her blush. It didn't reach her reason, that such an action can inflame her passion strongly. She started to notice that her tormentor is excited in such moments, however this could be explained by approaching flogging, because the joy he flog her with, she has noticed since the first days. She was curious, is it the same sadism which she heard about from a distance? Or the sadism is some other thing? She considered herself as a competent girl from an upright family. She is cautious, wouldn't commit a disgrace or follies. Certainly, she was not a girl already, but she had enough of the cunning and the intelligence don't allow that after "this" anyone points at her with finger with a derisive, telling to others drunks, how was he with her, what does he with her together and et cetera.As everyone around she was grown up without God, instead God there was the public opinion which for she could sacrifice anything. If there exist (Lord, absolve me) a cult of the public opinion, we should have the Saint Inga among others saints. But here, in the forest, communicating with this brute, her opinion about herself was defeated decisively, but a needed standard, what she must be, it was not determined for the present. The relax alarm for her life, the fear of pain, now all this was changed to the feeling of her own shame and littleness, which, it is possible, the feelings, that the "cocks" have in prison, that are the rape victims, who are raped recently. However, as distinct from these latter, she had a possibility to hide or to embellish many things, then the shaken public opinion of her after her strange disappearance, it would become balanced again. Partially this consoled her, only partially, because now she has to do double dealing. She was displeased, because this was unusual and as well as reprehensible. -Have you forgotten?! To plunge seven times! The walls fell in through the number "7" in Jericho! - repeated he his habitual phrase. Docilely Inga sank in the cold water seven times up to the neck. These seven blows of the cold drove her out of her wits almost as well as seven swats of a lash, but a completely different way. She heard about Jericho only that there was a "Jericho's trumpet", so one says about a stentorian voice - she didn't know about those events of the distant past anymore. She considered herself as a developed girl. Also she lived in Moscow, almost near the centre, but here this forest brute presented to her surprises of his erudition every day, which in comparison with she felt herself as an unskilled barbarian, and it was a single consoling that she is not worse than other people are. After bathing she went higher, the abductor was next. Reaching their conventional place, she stopped, turned her face to him, dropping her eyes, she began to say with a trembling voice: -Sir teacher, one must flog me more often and more painful for I don't get out of hand. Flog me ,please.- The last words she had pronounced almost in a whisper and was afraid of additional swats for this. -I'm going to satisfy your request, my forest wench. You are going to get fifteen swats as always. -What an attitude must I strike? -Go down on all fours, head on the ground, hands back, interlace, don't disunite them! Don't fall on the side! Or I will renew the counting. The malefactor had taken the birches wet in the forest puddle and played with them in the air. (On Wednesday and on Friday an electric wire operated) Inga was ready and thought: "I've better, he would fuck me, he is a wretched crazy!". He passed over her perineum with a tip of the rod, passed along all the slit, up to her back, but didn't delay anymore. The twig had cleaved the air, a savoury whip... keeping silent... Second... Third... -Ouch!- Inga squealed after forth one. Now these "Ouch!" alternated with constrained sobbing and became longer to end. At the end of the thrashing, at his command she had stood erect, continued kneeling, thanked her teacher through tears, for doing good to her. Then she stood up and took a breath, with relief and joy: the punishment is finished now. They went both to the tent. She helped her master to kindle the firewood, prepare the food, the tea. The daily morning rite is finished. Now it may rub themselves against gnats and feel free. Despite the fact that he could flog her again for any accidental inadvertence, these little punishments, though even these she couldn't almost stand without tears and yells, but they didn't provoke such a panic terror. Only now she has paid attention at the sombre and severe beauty of the spruce and birch forest, which is crossed by ravines, by slopes and rises; some place non-typical for the Moscow area, and the sky was covered by crowns of trees for the most part, it was saturated by bright blueness as well as washed one, in contrast to the off-white sky near large towns. There was something whereof the heart would be filled with joy, but Inga may not allow herself this. Nobody instructed her anything, excepting how to look attentively at the people to be the same like they are, try not to differ in nothing. The bookstores were overloaded with communist jabber and eulogies for Motherland, Party and Lenin. It was not possible to buy in normal even the most innocuous in terms of poliсy belletristic literature, but at least just a little intelligent one, free from the propaganda. It was an item in short supply which costed ten times more expensive covertly, than its real value was. And where from this poor girl could learn a valuable Carnegie's advice: "If the life has prepared a lemon for you - make lemonade". There was no trace of the Carnegies and others. Even nobody heard of them. The enigmatic abductor, making a show of being busy, watched the girl. -Remember,- his voice had sounded. Inga had raised her eyes.- Remember! There is no an objective criterion of the correct attitude to life. This attitude rendering someone happy, only it is correct. That attitude to life rendering someone feeling himself unhappy - is not correct. Remember this, I'll ask it. You may not agree to it, but remember. Only a correct attitude to life will render you happy! -Is it you consider I can be happy here? -In fact, you cannot nowhere be happy excepting here. Do you remember I said you that you had died long ago? That life you lived, there is not to be a happiness. Such a life is not better than death. Look at women who are a forty years old. Many of them still haven't known what an orgasm is. If you go their way, you will arrive in the same place like they have. In fact a woman forty years old can love and be loved one as in twenty. Already they've buried themselves, gave up as hopeless, they refused all the things by this trite excuse: "We need nothing" and even try to defy it. -All the world lives like that. -They don't live, but drink from a close-stool. It's better don't argue. It's better to test this, to test that, then early or late the truth itself will come to light. Her warder became more talkative. This time he let himself go so that if someone appeared in the distance, he would guess tourists with a tape recorder listen to a Vysotsky's recital. -Well, my dish. Let's come down to business. Take off your swimsuit and sit down on the heels. So sit during ten minutes, then it will be the asanas for the stretch. Inga had performed all the exercises impeccably and it was unexpectedly even for him. To the end of them she lay down on her back, relaxed and fell asleep about two minutes. In half an hour he had called her: -Here's a problem, my girl. Take a pen, a notebook, but at first write what one must. While she had to write seven times: "Be a diligent o girl, not to be flogged". Of course, Inga was lucky not always to be a diligent enough. The little punishments were following just after her blunders, now they provoked not fear, but some kind of a mental unacceptance like unpleasant medical treatments as a painful injection or a bathing of wounds and etc. When the ritual phrase was completed, the abductor began to speak right away: -All the attention here! We have a segment with a point in the middle. We call this point as "the center". We call this segment as a "one-dimensional sphere". Inga looked up suddenly at him. -Do you want to be sure whether am I crazy? At first, listen to the end, then solve, if you don't want to be flogged again, and only after this you will conclude. If I'm crazy, there wouldn't be a solution, but it is in my pocket, finished one, on a sheet. And you are to make a little discovery which was discovered long ago. Also, a volume number one of the one-dimensional sphere is equal 2R. Let's take a two-dimensional sphere - this is a circle. A volume number two of the two-dimensional sphere is equal... - he looked at Inga inquisitive. -Pi R squared, the volume number two - this is the area, - answered Inga willingly drawing into the game and rejoicing at her own keen wits. He wanted to answer with an irony: "And you are quick-witted, broad". But he had checked himself in time, understanding that it's better don't cloud her interest just waking in the mathematics. -That's correct! And the volume number three, that is the usual volume of a sphere, it is equal 4/3 pi R cube. Also, broad, in the mathematics it is possible to work not only in the three dimensions, but in four one, in five one and more, for ever and ever. It is in the physical world we don't know dimensions more than three, we can draw only three perpendicular reciprocally directions, but in the mathematics one can check all the calculations of the multidimensional objects. All things fit, then the theory works. So, find a formula of the volume number four of the four-dimension sphere. I give you half an hour for this. Inga had inclined above the note-book, took out a draft sheet was put in it, turned over a page don't see these words "...not to be flogged", and it is possible, it will happen so. She had plunged into the work. Fully half an hour she looked for a regularity among the three formulas were well-known since school, being worried as at the exam, but failed to find this regularity. She had noticed this strange man stood behind her and looked into her notebook, where the course of her thought was reflected in the form of formulas, during the feverish search. Inga had turned to him. Her tormentor stood keeping a sleek scrap of paper in his hand, which it was written on, in big letters and well: V=1/2 pi squared, R is raised to the fourth power. -What did you learn in the institute? You've passed one year of the teaching, reached the differential equations getting more complex to the end of the year, however here is usual integration, not complex one. Look: the length of the segment is the integral sum of the points; the area of a circle is the integral sum of all the parallel chords, including the diameter; the volume of a sphere is the integral sum of all the circles are formed by crossing the sphere with parallel planes, including the big circle. And finally, my girl, the volume number four of the four-dimension sphere is the integral sum of the spheres. Then there are an usual calculating. Now you know what to do, however I'm going to tell you all the same. He took from Inga the notebook, the pen, did all the needed calculations which led to the well-known result. -What can you say? -I need to be flogged, - and added in a cheerless voice.-Properly. -I shall satisfy your request, forest broad. -What position must I stand in? -Take off your swimsuit, you will stand straight, keep your hands behind your head. You may be crying and jumping. You may not squat down or disjoint your hands. You may not stoop down very low. Bring me the twigs. I will flog you on your haunches in front; ten swats. Inga had stripped to the skin again. She would like to cry in her vexation, because of her own inability during the solving of the problem. Somehow she didn't feel a fear. Instead this, it was an unpleasant feeling of a person who was duped. Chapter 3. By the way for taking the switches, a thought occurred to her about escape, but she could not find her bearings on the ground at all, and her warder had time to clear this. In the second day of the abducting he spanked her a little, because he had ordered her to gather some brushwood for the campfire a hundred meters away to the West, but she had gone to the East. On an overcast day she would can make a circle and come to the same place and on a sunny day if she takes a constant direction, one doesn't know, how long time she would have to go, it was possible to stay in the forest without water, however it was hot. It was possible to go along the river only downstream, and he would catch up with her quickly. But upstream there is a spacious marsh where it wouldn't drown, but you can get stuck and lose the footwear in the quagmire. Where they are, Inga didn't know. She was on a visit to her friend Tania in a village where this friend came on summer vacation.There were all the people who recognized each other long ago. The place was relatively an out-of-the-way corner and one wasn't afraid of any casual unbidden guest. That day she was found at the opposite end of the village from the house where Tania lived, and it was necessary to pee. She came into the shrubbery, did her deed, and suddenly someone had thrown a strangling rope on her neck. A hoarse voice had pronounced: -Go where I say! Otherwise, before you succeed to yell, I'm going to tighten the rope, you will swoon, and I'll drag you all the same. The resistance is useless. You'll be worse without any doubts. They went about five minutes. She was all pale, with a noose around her neck. Then he had taken off the noose. Inga swung round and saw an unknown guy in front of her. He was not a big guy, but a sinewy, fit one, his age was vague, however it was clear he was older. His eyes sparkled with joy because of the prey is caught well. -Now listen me, broad... -I'm not your broad! -That's not the point. I know you. I know a street in Moscow you live. There are three windows in your flat,- he told her address of Moscow, said where her parents work, who of them and when is at home. He told a lot of other details, even about the mother had flogged her when she was fourteen years old. -What do you want something from me, in fact? - Inga tried to pass to the offensive. -I've good news and bad news. Here good one: I'm not going to kill you, not to rape. -And thanks for that... -And here is a bad one: I'm abducting you! From now on you are under my power, become submissive to me. If I want it, I'll make you all bare to creep ten kilometers on all fours, and you will execute it. -Not likely! Don't you want a dick, fuck... The dangerous stranger's hand had done a quick movement as lightning. A whizz had sounded. Inga had flinched and just had time to think "Ouch, I'm fool! Have made angry him, however he is a loony, he is going to kill me!" Something encircled her left thigh with whistle and stuck into it through the tracksuit pants. A pain was augmenting and immediately it was the second lash. Inga had grasped the hurting point and rubbed it, hissing of pain. Just only she had understood it was a flogging and no attempt on her life. During she was squatting, he had given two lashes else to her, one lash on her bottom and another one on her back. Inga had howled, eyes wide open, and jumped up. The stranger seized her by the hand saying: -Now I don't order you to creep on your fours, but we are going to go for a walk, otherwise you will be fat, lose your beauty because of staying without moving. However you are a girl of the top-class, though a rubbishy one as all the world, but you will obey my every word. Now I can take off your pants; five times I've whipped you already, the rest is ninety five else. -Do not! That hurts! S-s-s, - girl hissed, ready to submit already, rubbing the back with her free hand. He had put a black band on her eyes, so that she can't see where they go and led her for a long time, telling carefully about tussocks, little pits and twigs being on the level of her face. They walked near two hours, then the band was taken off. The sky became covered with clouds, but it wasn't raining. Often the abductor inspected the direction using the compass and while this ordered her to turn aside. They walked very long time and had arrived at the destination only on the third day. Two nights they had spent under the open sky. Several times else, he put the band on her eyes, three times of them, it seemed, they crossed over some highways. It was clear they had gone near fifty kilometers from the start and, it was probably, to go back in Moscow they have to use another direction of the railway. No combing the forest surrounding the village would bring nothing. When they do the first miss abducting, understanding what it happened in fact, it would be too late, no dog would take the track. -What a rogue! - the girl thought. - He has appeared as a bolt from the blue! In the village, where the rumours spread with lightning speed all over the neighbourhood and exaggerate, however there nobody noticed a suspicious stranger who waylaid her a few days for sure, maybe a few weeks. Still somewhere on a border of the mind Inga began to understand that the proverb "the knowledge is a power" is not an idle phrase. Now she is on the territory of the strong state, which moreover likes to meddle in all sides of the life, including conjugal infidelity and the education children in the spirit of the Marxism-Leninism, but she has found herself in another state at all, where he is a lord and she is a slave girl, whom he flogs every day as a nanny goat, and as a result he has made her, an adult girl, to obey as a little child; it's good that he still doesn't... But what is going on, herself?! A pleasing wave moved below of the belly. Inga wagged by the thighs, suddenly she has recollected. Returning, stretching out the switches to her executioner, at the first time she said from the heart, sincerely: -Flog me, please, let it would hurt. It's really that one must flog me properly, - and she went on to herself mentally: For I'd not want to fuck with this madman together! She stood up; put her hands behind of the head and closed her eyes. A whistle was heard, and the twig whipping by its middle on the right thigh, stuck with its tip into the left one. The strokes followed one by one. Inga opened her eyes which soon, it seemed, like sparkled, then she started to jump a little, as a wind-up toy. When the flogging was over, she stooped, shrinking and rubbing the reddening welts, sighing slowly. There were no tears. Then she came to her senses, went down to her knees, pronounced as usual: -Thank you for the lesson, my master! He stroked her hairs, playing pulled her ears. -Don't you forget, my beauty, according the order we have a lesson of the auto-flagellation for today? Oh, how she hated such lessons! He trained her, as a medieval nun, to flog herself. Only three strokes with electric wire, but he demanded from her the perfect real strokes. It was her due to receive ten strokes with his hand for one missed, and he could flog more hurt, than her mother with jump-rope. -Today you have to spank on the right haunch. Here, keep it, - he gave to the girl the same wire. Inga took the implement of her torture in her hand and stood up, feet apart widely. This damn pleasing wave passed through herself again. Oh no, away! She has whipped her right haunch with all her might so, that the middle of the wire touched the front and its tip, encircling the haunch, stuck behind. Right away she has whipped herself in the second time, and a drawling "Ouch!' has escaped her lips, almost in a whisper. She found the courage to whip in the third time. After this the girl's face reddened and the eyes exuded the tears. -Attagirl, broad! Only take into account, it is a body who feels the pain, however you are not implicated in it. It is difficult to explain it with words, you will understand it during the experience. I give only one example. The pain is falling on you as a hard load and you are trying to fight down it only with your own force. There aren't enough of them. One doesn't play with pain "someone who would chip". One leaves it. Here are key questions one must ask himself: 1. What is the pain? 2. How does it concern me? -How you flogged me for the escape, all your theory would go to the dogs. It was impossible to think anything. -It served you right, naughty wench. However I feel, we shall play jump-screech with you in plenty, - said he, failing hide his delight. - You want to overcome difficult things at one stroke. I've introduced the lessons of the auto-flagellation only for your starting from easy things. One doesn't learn a manual from the tenth form being in the first one. But sometimes one can turn the pain into the joy. Of course, it depends of an individuality. The pain can have a lot of shade like the colours, the sounds, the smells, the tastes. You couldn't fail to observe that both pains are different if to whip, of a long switch and of an electric wire. -Yes, the pain of the mother's jump rope and one of the father's belt, these are different too, but one spanked me rarely. only if some awful took place. -The badness wasn't they flogged you rarely, but that they stopped to flog you early. However it may be for the better. Somebody must punish who is able to teach something. But I've not finished saying about different reaction to the pain, right up to the joy. Is it known to you that the Spanish flagellants scourged themselves with lashes to the extent that the blood squirted and if young girls walked to meet them, they tried that the drops of blood would squirt on the girls. And the girls of Sparta were flogged not only like a punish, but for developing of the sensuality too, and sometimes they had a few orgasms while the spanking. By the way Inga opened her eyes wide increasingly because of the astonishment, looking at the strange storyteller inquiringly. -I heard something else, I don't know exactly, is it a truth or isn't it, long ago some people, to have a good luck in anything, they employed experts flog properly, so to say, those who were knowing their trade, then these people stripped to the skin, allowed to tie up themselves, yelled because of pain, as you did at that time, after this they thanked these masters, even paid them money. But I don't know, what there were more, a superstition or some mystical truth in fact. Of course, you are thinking that I'm a madman who is crazy about the flagellation. It's not known, what you will be crazy about, when you will be yourself. -I want to be like all the sane people. -But you will be unhappy, then. The humane society, which exists, it's incompatible with the happiness. Jean-Jacque Rousseau was right that a human is unhappy in the society: "I hasten to reach with rapid steps a country. As soon as I see a verdure, I'm starting to breathe. May one be surprised that I love the solitude! I see only the animosity on the faces of the men, but the nature smiles me always". (Translation by the author).So he wrote in his last book "Reveries of a Solitary Walker". And this great man wanted to construct a happy society - here is his tragic mistake! In fact, as it turned out, the same concepts the "happiness" and the "society" are incompatible. -May I sit down on the stub? I'm tired. -Take a seat, my beauty, I'm allowing. Only now he has noticed, she is carried away by the conversation so much, she has not only forgotten to put on her swimsuit, but even continues to keep the wire in her hand. Inga has sat down straight with her bare bottom on the rough stub. At some points she felt hurt a little after today's spanking. (After that terrible flogging for the escape she couldn't sit that day and the following one too). -What I've just spoken about? Inga tried to remember being afraid. -Give me the wire. Inga obeyed and has remembered right away: -You've said that the happiness and the society are incompatible. Her tormentor has rolled up the wire and hitched it to his swimming suit by a special clip. -I'm not forcing you to believe in it, only remember that such an opinion exists too. I agree with this opinion, then you will may receive evidence, was I right or I wasn't. However I don't advise to protract the experience: your life will can be spent in vain. -But what a happiness may be in the solitude? It is impossible! -The Soviet power has intimidated all of you, supposedly a man being alone means nothing. You may don't agree with me. One has to outgrow by many verities by experience, not every of them may be proved in words only. But... It may be... Solitary like-minded persons find each other if there are very much of coincidences as well as it's possible, in their views, inclinations. The history knows such great consolidations. After this a desire appears to increase the circle. At first they accept beginners with caution, overplaying in something. Then they underplay, accepting in their community anyone from the street, and it's gone-gone: stool pigeons, underlings, in conclusion, the great unity turns into a banal society, however the society, as Rousseau had written one day, is a people's herd. To attempt to create a happy society is the same thing as to attempt to heat outside of a house in winter instead one must heat at home, in fact, and close all the doors more tightly. To the point, you are tired. One must not give so much of the information at once. Otherwise it will be flying into one ear and flying out through the other one, - saying this, he has pulled her ear a little. - However, my beauty, tomorrow is Wednesday, and in accord of the 'Code of prisoner's behaviour" I shall spank you with wire. Hold on, wench! - Her tormentor has smiled merrily. And Inga was excited by sitting on the stub. She could not get rid of the pleasant sensations which were evoked by all around: the rough stub, the fresh air refreshing her body by an agreeable coolness, because the sun has just hidden behind the cloud and the voice of this strange man speaking with her at the first time so long and his flesh is excited by swimming trunks well evidently. Suddenly again she has wanted to give him herself, to be sat on his stake, to be pierced, and come what may. Or to fall on her knees and give him herself as she gave herself today to his switches, digging her head in the ground and and to yell because of happiness as she yelled because of pain. Is it still a happiness on the Earth? But what the people would say!? Oh, my God! So she was changed that is sitting on the stub, is naked completely, even has forgotten to put on the swimming suit, is sitting in front of the guy who is well excited who is clothed only in swimming trunks! Inga has jumped up and started putting on her swimming suit. The abductor observed her. She has sat down on the stub again. The desire went away. If anyone saw them! One would must send them both to a madhouse! But it has been so nice! -The society and the happiness are incompatible, - these words have escaped her, are pronounced sadly and pensive, and from her eyes a tear has rolled down, which she had brushed away, and reproached herself mentally for the sentimentality which not existed before. -It is possible, you are starting to understand something already, - he turned aside, rubbing the swimming trunks in the front. His captive had noticed it, and the wave of the voluptuousness passed through her body again, from the lower part of the spine. Suddenly he had swung around, looking at her with enthusiastic eyes, straight in the face: -You are ready now, and tomorrow, after the morning rite I'll open a great verity for you, a truth which is urgent for all the peoples and for all the times.

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