Just a fandom girl making her way in the world and mostly communicates with gifs. Also, check out my tumblr to seeing what fandom I'm currently obsessing over
So I wrote this #darklinaprompt a while back and then a bunch of prompt fills set in that world. Let's see if I can keep it going, no specific order to the them except date they were posted. Haven't come up with a title yet but if anyone some ideas, feel free to send them to me
https://t.co/crME1nRldg
So i wrote this prompt on tumblr, it's up for grabs if anyone wants to write but credit where credit is due please
#darklina#darklinaprompt
a bottle of his favourite wine. how did she know? he’s only her bodyguard.
“I wanted to thank you”, she says softly, “for helping me the other night.”
when her period had hit her unexpectedly.
“don’t mention it”, he says.
“I thought I was pregnant.”
“would you want to be?”
“yes.”
After triple-checking that Ana Kuya is asleep, Alina pulls her radio out of its hiding place.
"... here to support you at Grisha Radio. Remember, you are not alone."
"Not alone," Alina murmurs as she summons an orb of light and lets the Darkling's soothing voice wash over her.
When Alina asks, he tells her truthfully that all letters she's written to her tracker have been posted.
Of course, what might happen to those letters after, and whether they ever reach Oretsev, is another matter entirely.
His Sun Summoner doesn't need any distractions, after all
hurriedly she pulls down her underwear to see—red.
“oh for f—“
“everything alright Ms Starkova?”, her security detail calls through the door.
“uh”, she mutters, “no.”
in minutes he gets her pad and painkiller and escorts her to her room.
“how can I thank you?”
“don’t. just rest.”
He examines the painting carefully as the nervous curator paces.
"Fake."
"Surely not! Three different experts have -"
"It's excellent work, but a fake all the same."
He knows one person who could produce a fake this good.
He smiles, pleased to have a reason to track Alina down.
"She's a menace, sir!"
"She's eight, Ivan."
"Exactly! An eight year old with no impulse control and the ability to burn people to a crisp."
"I don't know what you mean. Alina is an angel."
"For you, maybe. For me, she's a demon masquerading as a little girl. I need a holiday."
“we have always lived in the castle”, Genya says as they stand before it amidst high grass and straws.
“we?”
“Grisha.”
Alina sighs, gently strokes her aching back, “I don’t know why we’re here and how this happened”, she gazes at her protruding belly.
“Aleksander will tell you.”
"Alina's losing it."
"What's wrong?"
"She's covered up all the mirrors in the house, and anything else with a reflective surface, even the TV. She won't go outside, just hides in the bedroom with the light on."
"Why?"
"All she'll say is that the shadow man is trying to get her."
When Alina reaches for her tea, she doesn’t even look up from the pile of papers she's been going through for hours.
She only realises she’s picked up the wrong tea-cup when she takes a sip.
“Saints, Sasha! This is so sweet. How many spoons of sugar are in it.”
“Oh, only eight.”
a fist banging on the door.
“done in there, Lina? everything alright?”, Gen asks over the loudspeaker blasting “Thriller”.
“‘course”, Alina replies, voice brittle as she opens her mouth to inspect her aching teeth in the bathroom mirror.
two of them are growing.
becoming—
fangs.
None of her friends believe Alina.
"It's just vivid dreams," says Genya.
"You're overtired," Nina suggests.
"Ghosts aren't real," Mal scoffs.
But she knows she's being haunted - hunted - by a dangerously obsessed spirit, one determined to make Alina his by any means necessary.
"You look tired, little saint."
Alina is exhausted. She has no idea how the Darkling managed for so long - to be Second Army General is to do the work of ten people.
"I could help you. If you came to me, we could work together."
"Never."
She means it less every time she says it.
Ghosts are harmless shades with unfinished business, unable to affect the living.
The Darkling, who has haunted Alina since they burned his body on the pyre, is more than a ghost.
Cold fingers on her skin, shadows curling around her.
"Leave me be," she begs.
"Never, my Alina."
“I can see why my brother likes you so much, Alina.”
She frowns, turning to her new friend in confusion, only to freeze in horror when the Darkling steps from the shadows, “hello, my Alina.”
“I am sorry,” Ulla adds, “but I owe Sasha a favour. I know he’ll take good care of you.”