#Medikal – Warning

[ghanamusicblognetwork]

Music: Medikal – Warning

In his latest single titled ‘Warning,’ award-winning Ghanaian rapper Medikal sends a powerful message to his colleagues in the rap scene. The track addresses a range of issues that the artist has faced, from criticism of his source of income to betrayal and competition for the title of the best rapper in Ghana. The song features a mellow and laid-back beat at the beginning, but gradually builds…

[rorygilmoreclown]

A start

Healer!reader x Nikolai Lanstov

Summary: The reader, who is a healer, was caught by drüskelle and then escaped their ship in a storm and then was rescued by Nikolai as Sturmhond and than slowly fall for each other and one day Nikolai sees reader hit on by someone else and gets jealous and sort of confesses. (I'm sorry I suck at summaries, also i changed the plot a bit so im sorry about that sorry sorry )

A/n: I took my sweet time, didn't I. Anyways, here it is, apologies for all the changes and this crappy writing. Might make a pt2, that's why the ending.

Warnings: None, except for this smirky smirky sunshine babygorl.

As you rouse from your slumber, a jarring realisation dawns upon you: you are no longer on your mission’s base. The scent of salt and brine pervades your nostrils, and the rhythmic groans and creaks of timber assault your ears. It takes only a moment to recall why you are in this predicament, and an acrid churning stirs within your gut.

You are a prisoner aboard the drüskelle vessel, trussed and bound, being ferried to their fortress to face their uncompromising brand of justice. The harsh squawks of the drüskelle assault your ears, censuring you for your supposed offences, their eyes brimming with nothing but antipathy and scorn for your Grisha talents. You strive to maintain your composure, reminding yourself of your mettle, but their venomous invective feels like barbs upon your flesh.

As the tempest rages on, you sense the ship pitching and yawing, at the mercy of the storm's capricious whims. Then, a deafening crack reverberates throughout the vessel, and you are flung forward, your head colliding with the bars of your cell. You hear the splintering of wood and the screams of the drüskelle, but all you can focus on is the pulsating throb in your head.

But then, a fortuitous miracle transpires. The cell confining you snaps free from its moorings and is hurled into the tumultuous waters. You acted quickly to save yourself, your appendages flailing as you struggled to stay afloat amidst the mayhem. Somehow, you manage to make it to the shore, gasping for air and quivering from the chill.

As you survey your surroundings, a colossal ship looms in the distance, and optimism swells within you, and so does dread. You remember that you are still clad in your kefta, and it may be your sole chance at survival, or another reason for a capture. As the ship draws closer, you discern a figure emerging from it, and your heart braces itself for either a negotiation or a fight. His eyes widen in astonishment as he espies you, a solitary survivor on the shore. He strides towards you, his voice ringing out like a sunbeam amidst the tempest. 

Greetings madam, I am Sturmhond, the legendary privateer and captain of the vessel. 

Are you injured, we have a medik on our ship? He paused, as if he said something humorous as well as imprecatory. Apologies for asking that question, is it offensive to ask a healer if they require medical assistance? 

That was the first time you saw that stupid smirk followed by a loud yet comforting laughter. It sounded true, as if you weren’t on some abandoned island, about to ask for an abode from a stranger, and you feel a lump form in your throat as tears threaten to spill over. And that’s how you boarded the The Volkvolny. 

You stare at Sturmhond in disbelief as he proposes his deal. Safety in exchange of your healing help. The words are hard to process, and your heart feels like it's in your throat. The thought of being safe from the Ravkans and drüskelle fills you with relief, but the idea of being on a ship with a stranger is daunting.

You take a deep breath and consider his offer, recalling the events that led you to this point. The Ravkan court, a place that was supposed to be safe and secure, turned into a nightmare when you were assaulted by one of its members. The thought of staying there was unbearable, and none of the other court members did anything to help you. You had to escape, and now you are at the mercy of a privateer captain.

But there is something about Sturmhond that feels different. His eyes are kind and understanding, and you get the sense that he genuinely cares about your well-being. You decide to take a chance, and nod your head in agreement.

He smiles at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Excellent. You won't regret it, I promise. And just to be clear, you will be safe from any Ravkans or drüskelle on my ship. You have my word.

As the ship sets sail, you find yourself growing more and more comfortable in your new surroundings. You observe the crew, their different backgrounds and stories, and feel a sense of belonging that you haven't felt in a long time. You start to let your guard down around Sturmhond, telling him about your past and your hopes for the future. He listens to you with empathy and understanding, and you feel like you can truly be yourself around him.

As a part-Shu, you find yourself forming a close bond with Tamar and Tolya aboard Sturmhond's ship. Tolya is a flirt, and he often directs his playful advances towards you. Sturmhond notices and becomes increasingly snippy, trying to interrupt your conversations with Tolya. But Tolya persists, sometimes just to get a rise out of Sturmhond.

One day, as you're assisting the ship's healer with her duties, Tolya comes up beside you and leans in close. Are you a healer? he whispers. Because you just cured my loneliness. You can't help but laugh at his audacity, but you know it's all in good fun.

In another scene, you're practising some Grisha skills with Tamar when Tolya approaches. Are you a Corporalki? he asks, grinning. Because you just made my heart skip a beat. Tamar rolls her eyes at Tolya's antics, and you can't help but chuckle at his attempt at humour.

A few days later, as you and Tolya are chatting on the deck, he looks at you intently. Are you a healer like me? he asks. Because I'm feeling a strong connection between us. You can't help but feel a small flutter in your chest at his words, but you know it's just Tolya being Tolya.

As the journey goes on, you appreciate Tolya's sense of humour and his easy going nature. You come to see him as a good friend and confidant, and you value the bond you share. One night, as the two of you are sitting alone on the deck, Tolya looks at you with a tender expression. Are you a Bonesmith? he asks softly. Because you just mended my broken heart. You smile at his words, but you know that you don't feel anything more than friendship for him. Unfortunately, Sturmhond takes these positive affirmations as an indicator of your interest in Tolya. As Tolya departs to attend to some task, you're left feeling grateful for the friendship you share and the camaraderie of your journey aboard Sturmhond's ship. 

As time passes on, the tension between you and the captain grows, being very transparent for everyone but you two. The night was alive with laughter and music as Sturmhond's crew celebrated their latest successful mission. You were enjoying the festivities, chatting with Tamar and Tolya when a Ravkan nobleman approached you. He looked at you with a smirk on his lips, his eyes scanning your body. Well, well, well. What do we have here? A part-Shu healer? You must be quite the exotic beauty.

You felt uncomfortable under his gaze and tried to step back, but the nobleman grabbed your arm tightly. Tolya and Tamar shot him a sharp look, but he ignored them. Just as you were about to say something, Sturmhond appeared by your side, his arm wrapped around your waist possessively. There you are, my love. I've been searching for you everywhere.

The Ravkan nobleman's eyes widened in surprise at Sturmhond's sudden appearance. Oh, I didn't know you had a lover. Sturmhond gave a charming smile, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly. Yes, she's quite dear to me. Now, if you'll excuse us.

He guided you away from the nobleman, leading you to a quieter corner of the room. You could feel his eyes on you, watching your reaction to the incident. Are you all right? he asked, his tone laced with concern. You nodded, grateful for his intervention. Thank you, Sturmhond. I was getting a little uncomfortable there.

He gave you a small smile, his hand still resting on your waist. I won't let anyone make you feel uncomfortable. After a boyish smirk that broke on his face, indicating of his crooked humour slipping through this serious situation, you knew it was to make the mood lighter. Afterall, the deal was to protect you from the Ravkans.

As the night wore on, you found yourself drawn to Sturmhond's protectiveness, his easy charm making your heart race. And as the party came to an end, you couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was something more between the two of you. Although you were a little disappointed as he mentioned protecting you only due to the deal. 

After Sturmhond rescued you from the trespasser at the party, he dragged you to the higher part of the ship. Your heart was pounding with anticipation, wondering what he wanted to tell you. As he looked at you with his piercing blue eyes, you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and safety in his presence. You couldn't help but notice how he kept looking at you with that intense gaze of his. Was he jealous of the other man who was flirting with you earlier? Did he really have feelings for you?

Suddenly, Sturmhond broke the silence with a joke, So, I'm guessing we're officially boyfriend and girlfriend now? You couldn't help but chuckle at his playful tone. He couldn't believe he had just made that joke. He had been wanting to confess his feelings to you for so long but was too afraid of rejection. Was he being too subtle? Did she even get the hint?

Feeling bold, you responded with a joke of your own, I don't know, Sturmhond. You'll have to take me on a proper date first. You couldn't resist teasing him a little. After all, he had been flirting with you all night. As you both laughed at your playful banter, Sturmhond reached out and gently took your hand in his. He held his breath as he waited for your response. Did he really just confess his love to you? Was he about to get his heart broken? You couldn't believe it. The person you had been crushing on for so long felt the same way. Was this really happening?

As Sturmhond leaned in for a kiss, you closed your eyes and let yourself be swept away in the moment. All of your doubts and worries faded away as you realised that you had found the person who made your heart feel whole. As he kissed you, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. He had finally told you how he felt, and you had reciprocated. This was the start of something new, and he couldn't wait to see where it would take them. 

Word Count: 1.8k 

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Tags: @justalunaticfangirl @lunarthecorvus

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

Content warnings for this chapter: implied sa references, violence, trafficking references

AO3 link

Chapter 13 - Nina

Nina left Inej on a bridge just North of the Slat, and began to walk towards West Stave alone. On the way to the Barrel they had watched the world come awake with the final dregs of sunrise - black-suited merchers, mediks, and lawyers appearing and disappearing as they rushed between the streets on their way to work, runners moving back and forth like lightning between the Exchange and the Financial District to update on the earliest news of the day - but here there was no need for the slow progress of early morning; here the streets were as bustling as they would have been at midnight and every hour after, performers and players and tourists shouting and cheering and exchanging that beloved coin. It was perhaps quieter than it would be this evening, but the only true lull in the Barrel came with the lazy hours of mid afternoon. Nina watched the outline of the White Rose growing on the horizon as she darted in and amongst the crowds, lavishing the thought of curling up on her little chaise and closing her eyes for the rest of the day. She didn’t doubt she’d be working this evening but hopefully being back unexpectedly early would mean there was little time to schedule and she’d have a lighter day. Nina didn’t make commission on her work altering moods, so unless there was a good Tailoring job lined up she didn’t feel the need to take on any more clients than was the minimum for her monthly quota. Her percentage cut of the Tailoring was upsettingly low anyway, but she’d take it over nothing. Money was too tight to complain; there was a tiny stash of kruge beneath one of her floorboards, on its approach to two hundred and fifty, and if she didn’t remain frugal for the next month she may be forced to dip into it. She really didn’t want to. That money was earmarked for other means, but if she got any closer to falling behind on her interest payments to Per Haskell she might have to temporarily prioritise her survival over Matthias’ freedom. 

“Nah, I swear!” someone in the goggle-eyed mask of the madman shouted, as Nina slipped by, “I saw it, all splayed over the steps outside the House of Exotics,”

“You’re a damn liar, Al,” laughed his companion, her face hidden beneath the veil of the Lost Bride, “She’s ashes on the Reaper’s Barge by now,”

The same Suli girl from the Willow Switch was performing over the canal again - the swings this time, partnering with a lithe Shu girl in scraps of green silk. Neither of them could have been more than sixteen, and the only section of their arms not covered by glitter were covered instead by the dark ink of the Willow Switch tattoo. The Shu girl flipped in the air and landed upside down on the next swing, knees hooked tightly over the bar. Her long hair came loose as she twisted and fell in a black wave, dangling into the waters of the canal as she swung back and forth, the glittering pins that had held it in place flopping into the water with tiny ripples. The crowd gasped and Nina couldn’t tell if it had been an accident or part of the performance, to hold their intrigue. She hoped it was on purpose, but the brief flash of fear in both girls’ eyes made her doubt that it was.

For no real reason - and she probably shouldn’t have done - Nina stopped and watched the end of the performance. The Suli performed another trick and her hair fell from its tight spiral as well, spinning and shimmering as it unfurled, but Nina was pretty sure she’d seen her loosen the pins. Maybe she thought it would look better if they matched. They finished and landed on the side of the canal, bowing deeply to the crowd and accepting their applause. No-one seemed to notice that, once they’d finished their bow, they did not release each other’s hands. The Shu girl, eyes still frightened above the smile of an actor at the stage door, tightened her grip and mouthed something to the girl next to her, her lips barely daring to move. Even from this distance, it looked distinctly like I’m sorry. 

Nina kept walking. 

As soon as she was through the back door of the White Rose she saw Adrian and Elodie leaving the little kitchen, and as soon as they saw her they faltered. She didn’t notice straight away.

“Hiya, is Feliks in?” asked Nina, shaking the Ketterdam mists out of her sleeve cuffs.

She was already thinking about her nightdress and her blankets as she set down her trunk to briefly stretch out her arms, but if Feliks was at the house she’d let him know the job was done before she went upstairs. 

“Not for another hour yet,” said Elodie, softly.

Her face was slightly hidden behind the silver tea tray she was balancing on her palms, but even so Nina could see that her hair would soon need Tailoring again. Elodie was one of the few in the house that Nina knew for certain was there on indenture - even the salaried staff generally slept in the building just as Nina did, so it wasn’t always easy to tell - because she’d told her so the first time she Tailored her. 

“Will my eyes ever be blue again?” she’d asked quietly, looking up at Nina.

She could only be about twelve. 

“They will,” Nina promised her, “And if I’m still here when you leave then I’ll undo it for you, so you don’t have to wait for it to fade,”

Elodie had just stared at her blankly for a moment, then said “Oh”.

“What’s wrong?” asked Nina, gently coaxing the girl’s head back so she could continue working on her eyes.

Elodie gave a sort of shrug, as best she could from the position.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever leave,”

Now she was teetering slightly and Adrian caught the edge of her tray to level it.

“Go on,” he said, nodding towards the door as he helped her rebalance, “Mister Norell is waiting,”

Elodie’s cheeks flushed for a moment, and then she hurried on her way. Nina rolled her shoulders.

“I’m going to get some sleep,” she said to Adrian, “But would you mind bringing me a cup of tea?”

“Yeah, Nina, but-”

“I’ll make sure to come back down in a few hours, but could you let Feliks know that I’m back when he gets…” she finally took in Adrian’s anxious gaze and fidgeting, “…here - why are you looking at me like that? Oh Saints, don’t look at me like that,” 

Adrian blushed a little, but the nervous energy didn’t leave his twitching fingers or those wide, unnervingly pale eyes.

“Don’t tell me,” she sighed, and then a second of fraught silence: “Okay just tell me,”

“Five clients,” he all but squeaked.

“No,”

“And then the Geldstraat job again,”

“No,”

“The first client is going to be here in twenty minutes,”

“Adrian my love, I’m sorry but if you say one more word I will be forced to shoot the messenger,”

Adrian pursed his lips and Nina noticed that the colour was returning to them; she’d need to Tailor him again soon too. She tried to leave it as long as possible between sessions because Feliks charged them no less than he charged any of the other Tailoring clients would get charged for such a long job, and in the case of Elodie and several others it was added to their indentures. 

“Brekker hasn’t paid him yet,” Adrian but his lip, leaning the teeniest bit farther away from Nina as though she might actually lash out of him, “so he’s going to take it out of your cheque,”

Nina closed her eyes and took a very slow breath. 

“Saints give me strength,” she muttered, just on the off chance the old ghosts might be paying attention. 

“I’m sorry,”

“Not your fault, darling. You got a copy of the schedule?”

Adrian nodded. 

“I’ll bring one up with your tea,”

“You’re a star,” she turned towards the stairs, “See you in a minute,”

There was really very little time to prepare for her first client but luckily it was the third appointment with Langen, a merch from the Zelvar District who visited her once a month - she knew what the plan was, and he wouldn’t have complaints about her recent absence. Nina flung her travel bag into the bottom of her wardrobe, then changed and thrust herself into the uncomfortable fake kefta as quickly as she could manage. By the time Adrian knocked on her door she was sitting in front of the vanity, Tailoring the dark circles under her eyes as best she could in such a rush and running a brush through her slightly tangled hair. Even as she set herself to rights her mind was not yet on work - it was too busy being furious. Kaz must have already told Feliks that she was coming back early, which honestly pissed her off more than knowing he hadn’t paid him yet. But then again, why hadn’t he paid him yet? It seemed a very un-Kaz thing not to have done so. It probably had something to do with whatever money Feliks already owed Kaz; Nina didn’t know or care about the details.

Ah well, she told herself as she gratefully accepted the tea that Adrian had brought her, you can’t change it now. You’ll just have to keep Kaz’s money hostage until he’s settled everything. If there was one thing she could use to bend Kaz Brekker’s insanity to her will, it was cold hard cash. 

Nina had bare minutes to read through the schedule for the rest of the day and she salvaged every one of them. It wasn’t quite as bad as she’d thought it might be; a two hour season now, then no-one until four bells. Plenty of time for a cat nap. Why did they want her back at the Van Eck house so soon though? Nina might ask Inej to follow her again; she felt better knowing where she was going and why she was wanted, but the whole experience had left a strange sense of rotting in her stomach. And she’d have to watch herself now - no saying her name, as little talking as possible in front of Wylan. There was every chance he’d already recognised her voice when they were at the university, but if he had then he hadn’t been obvious about it. 

Nina sighed, finished the last gulp of her tea, then straightened the cuffs of her kefta and flicked her hair over her shoulders. Time to put on a show. 

Or it would have been, if the plan hadn’t gone out of the window very, very quickly. 

Nina glided down the stairs and into the lobby, hand poised on the bannister, mysterious wise Grisha smile setting into place. Langen was sitting on one of the white sofas, an untouched glass of near-colourless wine in front of him on the table. If he drank at all he had never done so in front of Nina, though she always offered and he was of course always given something whilst he waited. His eyes were drifting through the room but she knew that he had seen her, and she gave him a slow nod as she approached. He finally looked up when she was just a few steps away, and stood to meet her.

“Nina,”

“Mr Langen,” she gave him a brief, polite bow of the head, and the next step should have been to ask him to follow her upstairs.

As Nina lifted her gaze back to meet his, she stopped. Across the room she could see Elodie, still with her tea tray as she refilled the bone white teacup of someone who, though he had removed his mask to sip his drink and eat his pale little cake, was dressed in the distinct cape of Mr Crimson. What had actually caught Nina’s eyes was that the man had leaned forwards, close to tiny little Elodie, and his hand was slipping down her back. Elodie gasped and stumbled a pace backwards, then cried out as tea spilled from the pot and onto her hands. She almost dropped the thing and set it hastily down onto the table, rubbing her hand repeatedly down the front of her skirt. Attention turned vaguely towards her and then drifted away again just as quickly, but Elodie’s cheeks had turned scarlet and Nina’s head was crying alarm bells. She stood quite still for a moment, aware of Langen watching her, her eyes on the laughing Mr Crimson as Elodie apologised profusely and tried to reach back to the teapot with shaking hands. He said something Nina was too far away to hear, and then leaned forwards again. 

“Excuse me sir,” Nina said to Langen, “I will be right with you,”

Her tone shifted quite irrevocably as she marched across the room.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Mr Crimson looked up at her, grin not even slipping.

“Just a bit of fun, eh pretty girl? Why, you wanna join us?”

“Sir, I am going to very politely ask you to leave but I am only going to do that one time,”

His eyes flashed. In an instant he had grabbed Elodie’s wrist and pulled her towards him, the cup still in her hand spilling over her shoes as she gasped. 

“Well now I’m just intrigued what happens after that one time,”

“My patience wears thin quick,” she didn’t risk using her power - not yet, at least, though she wouldn’t hold back if she had to - but she clamped her hand onto the collar of his stupid cape and yanked him close to her, “And then things get ugly,”

He shook away from her, shoving Elodie to the floor and advancing on Nina.

“You think your boss’ll be happy with you talking to me that way?”

“My boss isn’t here right now so you will have to deal with me,” she hissed, raising her hands ready to make good on the threat if she needed to, “Get out,”

He made a fumbling grab for her shoulder and she dodged easily, then twisted her arm around his so he was stuck in place as she kicked him hard in the shin.

“Nina!” someone shouted in panic, she wasn’t exactly sure who. 

Everyone was looking at them now. One of the house girls had helped little Elodie to her feet and one of the other servants was looking at the burn on her hand, but Elodie was staring straight at Nina with wide eyes. 

“You get out of this house,” Nina hissed, releasing the man’s arm, “And you don’t fucking come back,”

He glared at her for a moment, eyes wilder than black seas beneath a storm in the night, and then marched through the open doors with a swish and billow of his ugly red cape. Nina breathed. Everyone was still staring at her. 

She took Elodie upstairs - Langen could wait - and sat her down on the little chaise. 

“Are you okay?”

“I ruined my shoes,” she whispered.

“Did you burn your feet?”

“No,”

“You can get new shoes. Are you okay?”

She nodded, a little shakily. 

“Can I see your hand?” 

There was a brief pause before Elodie slipped her hand into Nina’s, and Nina ran her fingers over the reddened skin until it healed. 

“Thank you,”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Nina told her, smiling.

“Not just my hand,” she whispered, “Thank you…”

She trailed away, but Nina nodded.

“I’m always here for that too,” she promised.

There was a brief pause and Elodie’s voice was anxious when she ventured:

“Will you, though? Nina… are you going to get fired?”

“I…” Nina tried to control the shake in her own voice, the real weight of what she’s just done finally hitting her over the head like a sack of bricks, “I don’t know,”

She had attacked a client. She had attacked a client. Oh Saints, she was cooked. What was she going to do if she got fired? Would Kaz be able to find somewhere else for her, or would she be stuck running deeper and deeper into debt with Haskell until… until what? There was no way out of this, not without going back to Ravka - maybe not even then, what money did the Triumvirate have to bail her out? And she couldn’t go back anyway. She couldn’t abandon Matthias any further than she already had. 

Elodie shuffled closer and Nina offered her an arm so she could lean in.

“I don’t like it here,” she whispered, resting her head against Nina’s side.

“I know you don’t, poppet,” Nina murmured, “I’m sorry. We’re gonna figure it out though, yeah? You and me,”

“Really?”

“Promise,” 

What a stupid fucking thing to say. But if it made Elodie smile, even for the briefest moment, was it okay to lie so terribly?

[usmsgutterson]

THE HALLOWEEK OF HURT: DAY THREE

Rest- poly! Wesper x male! reader

ALL RIGHT!! Day three of this event and so far so good! I never really write for poly! wesper and I was looking at my prompt lists and managed to find something that worked for them, so yay!

This is the first time I've ever used a combination of my own prompts in a fic that wasn't requested! The prompts and their numbers are listed below, with the prompt copied and pasted into this directly.

Prompt 9: "I just need a minute to rest."

Prompt 10: "It's okay," Character A whispered. "You can rest now. It's fine."

Fic type- this is hurt/comfort

Warnings - mentions of a stab wound

You, Wylan, and Jesper had lost everyone in the haze of what had to be the rainiest day you'd ever experienced in Ravka. You'd lost track of everyone except for each other as you bolted away from a too-close-to-death experience, one where the six of you were left to fly by your coattails in the escape while still trying to hold onto the items you'd stolen.

You, Wylan and Jesper had made it to the harbor when you found yourself resting a hand against the nearest wall. Jesper told Wylan that he was going to get everything ready on the ship and make sure it wasn't a decoy like the stunt Kaz had pulled with the Ferolind during the Ice Court, and you were looking at the two of them like they were the loves of your life, but also like you were in unimaginable pain as you watched Jesper run to the boat.

"I just need a minute to rest."

"It's okay," Wylan said. "You can rest now, it's fine."

"How much time do we have til we're meant to board the boat?"

"Another ten minutes," Wylan said, helping you sit on the ground, leaning against the wall of one of the buildings that lined the harbor. "We can make it in two minutes if we can run. That gives you eight minutes to sort yourself out."

Your breathing was labored, and as Wylan pressed a kiss to your forehead, he half wondered why--it wasn't labored like it would've been after all of the running you'd just done, but it was worse. So, so much worse.

"Are you okay?" He asked. He'd remembered seeing you get into a fight with one of the guards who'd chased you halfway through the city, but he couldn't actually do more than focus on running. He had no clue if you'd come out of it injured, nor how severe those injuries were if any had been sustained.

"I've been worse," you said as Wylan cupped your face. Your hands found his, and you held onto him like he was the lifeboat that would save you in the middle of a category five hurricane. "Been better, too."

"Did you get hurt?"

"A stab wound," you managed, bringing a ragged breath in.

"You were stabbed?" Wylan asked. "And Jes and I didn't notice? We are the worlds worst boyfriends."

You laughed. "You're the best, I think," you said. "It's a light stab wound, though, if that helps? It was a hit to the chest but if we can make it to the boat in time and the medik Kaz brought on knows what they're doing, I'll be fine."

"We've gotta run now, then," Wylan said. "Do you think you can manage that?"

You did not think you could manage that at all, but you had decided, from the moment you were stabbed, that if you were to die you would do it on the boat. You would do it wearing damp clothes and with Wylans hand tucked into one of yours and Jespers hand tucked into your other one as Nina fussed over you while shouting obscenities at Kaz, not in the middle of a rainstorm with one of your boyfriends holding you like you were porcelain.

"Yeah," you lied. Wylan helped you up and off the two of you went, running through the rainstorm and to the boat, where Jesper, the medik, and Inej waited with Nina.

Wylans gaze flitted to the medik as soon as you were falling forward, exhaustion collapsing over you like one of the waves in a tsunami.

Jesper let you lean against him, pressed a kiss to your forehead, lifted you up and carried you bridal style down the hall and to a bed where the medik could start working.

Wylan watched the three of you go, letting Inej pull him into a hug as he tried to trick his mind into believing that you would survive. To him, it seemed that there were no other options.

For all that Wylan Van Eck had been through, it seemed as though the death of one of the loves of his life was simply too much to bear.

-

You woke in a bed in the Little Palace, grinning slightly as you felt Wylans hand in yours, Jespers hand tucked into your elbow and one of his hands holding your other one.

"Oh, Brekker, I could have killed you," Nina repreimanded. "I could've. I almost did. You assured us safety and Y/N has been hanging onto a thread for three days. Three days!"

"Y/N will get an additional share per the courtesy of the Ravkan crown and an anonymous contributor," Kaz said. "Just be glad you aren't helping Wylan and Jesper make his funeral arrangements."

You let yourself stir, resting your head against Wylans shoulder and giving his hand a squeeze before giving Jespers hand a squeeze in turn.

"If we would've been arranging Y/Ns funeral, Inej would've been arranging yours," Jesper cut. "You assured us safety, Kaz. You said it was a heist for the Ravkan royal crown so safety was guaranteed. The fact that I have barely seen one of the loves of my life do more than breathe proves the opposite. They chose us because we're criminals, and if we were jailed they could've denied involving us at all."

"Zoya wouldn't do that," Nina cut. "She might've done it to Kaz, but Y/N? She didn't mind him. Certainly didn't hate him enough to send him to jail if we were caught."

"That's rather comforting," you said, throat dry and voice hoarse with the disuse. "Do we have water?"

"We have tea," Nina said as you sat up. You were still exhausted and probably wouldn't shake the exhaustion until you were home, but that was fine. As long as you had Wylan and Jesper, that was fine. "I'll get you some. Don't you dare move a muscle."

You gave Wylans hand a squeeze and rested your head against Jespers shoulder.

"The medik said you'd be exhausted when you woke up, but it'll go away within a few days," Wylan said as Kaz gave you a single nod. You glowered at him in response--you should've known better than to trust a guarantee for safety in a line of work such as yours, but still. It wasn't the guarantee of safety you trusted, it was Kaz's innate ability to keep his word. He'd broken his word and it had nearly cost you your life.

"I'm sorry for how things ended with the heist," Kaz said.

"I'm sorry, too," you said. "I am grateful that you had a medik on the boat just in case, but if you ever again guarantee safety on a heist where such a guarantee is not able to be met, I will make sure that you have hell to pay."

Kaz smirked. "I expected nothing less."

And, just like that, the anger between the two of you was gone, replaced by only a plenty more mild version that would fizzle out within the following days, taking your exhaustion with it if the medik had been correct.

You thanked Nina as she gave you a cup of tea, pressed the back of your head against the wall behind you.

Everything, you had to hope, would be fine.

[sissytobitch10seconds]

Febuwhump 7: Quiet, For Once

Fandom: Grishaverse: Six of Crows Summary: Blood is easy to hide when you're covered in someone else's. Warnings: Blood, wounds, gang violence, hiding injuries, possible/implied character death, and heavy mental angst Word Count: 1,590 Ship(s): Kaz Brekker/Jesper Fahey

Archive link!

In their line of work, things went wrong quite often. Blood, gore, and viscera were something that was unfortunately common for them to see. It was standard for each person to help the other back to a safe location and then to vie for the attention of whatever medik or Healer had managed to be secured for that job. They worked with each other to make sure that they were safe and then became greedy for the real help that would prevent death.

Kaz had seen it more times than he could count and yet it would never fail to make his heart stutter in his chest when he realized that it was happening to one of his Crows. He had seen Matthias almost die when he had been shot during the Van Eck job, he had seen Nina laid out by a poison that had helped her body for only a short time, he had seen Inej almost bleed out on the ship in the belly of a boat, and he had seen Wylan on his knees with hand prints covering his pale swan neck.

Nothing would ever compare to the way that it felt to find Jesper as he had now.

He could barely even remember the point of the job. He was fairly certain that it had been a favor that the King of Ravka had called on them for, something that would promise them a lot of money and even more notoriety. Kaz was not only greedy for kruge, after all. It was something that was going to require a lot of stealth and the talent that Jesper had tried hiding away until he had gotten married to a Grisha from the Second Army. They had snuck away in the night so that they could complete the tasks assigned to them and then returned in a sight worse than Kaz had seen them in for a long time.

Nina had already collapsed down onto the couch in the front room of the boarding house that the royal couple had placed them into. She was being fawned over by Inej, the one that knew how to suture a wound, and Wylan, the only one that could actually take instruction when one of their own was ill like this.

Kaz had wandered down the hall so that he could find them something to clean up the blood. He knew that the innkeeper that had leased them the rooms would be very upset to find that they had soaked all the way through his couch, after all. He figured it would be a better use of his time than standing over Nina and fretting like he always did when one of his Crows was sick. It was a task that would be useful in the end and remove himself from Inej and Wylan’s way. Matthias could take the job of being underfoot.

The bulletwound in Nina’s arm was a big enough gash that he had completely forgotten about the fact that Jesper had strayed into the same house and had faced the same end of the weapon. He knew that his husband was far better at redirecting metal and would have been more likely to come out unscathed, but it was possible he was being a giant idiot about it all.

Jesper had never been like the other Dregs or even the other Crows. When he had gotten injured after his first month on the job, he had sat sullenly near the kitchen counter while waiting for the medik that they had hired to finish with the others. The wound that he had sustained on his head led to a concussion and him being out of commission for a good long while. Kaz had half assumed that the concussion was the reason that he hadn’t spoke up to try and get some attention on himself, at least until the next time that Jesper had been hurt. He had nearly shattered the bones in his ankle and yet hadn’t said anything until the others had all been seen to. 

He had an insanely high pain tolerance, which meant that he didn’t have to cry out for the strong alcohol that the Dregs usually shared when they were trying to cope with cuts and bruises. He had also grown up on a farm, which meant that he knew at least somewhat how to set a bone and deal with his own injuries until someone else could.

Kaz was still standing in front of the linen closet of their rented rooms. His dark eyes bore down into the fluffy white towels as he replayed those facts over and over again in his mind. He knew what they meant, what they could lead to. He knew his husband inside and out, even if Jesper let his own brain run away so that no one else could understand how it worked.

He could feel his stomach drop out from under him and the adrenaline shoot through his veins at the same time. He left his cane leaned up against the built ins without a second thought as he darted towards the bathroom. He banged on the door with one hand while pushing against it with his shoulder. “Jesper! Jesper, open the fucking door,” he snarled. His voice was harsh and raspy because of the stress of the day but it only sounded more like a demon now that he was shouting.

He grunted as he felt no give, which meant that the thing was locked. Now that he had been given no response from the man inside, he dropped down to his knees. A simple flick of his wrist brought the lockpicks he always had stashed in his sleeves out into his hand. He shoved them into place and acted like the Queen of Ravka herself was going to bite his head off if he didn’t get the door open. Something much, much worse might happen if he failed at his task, he reminded himself.

Kaz finally got the lock to click and then flung the door open. He didn’t even bother trying to raise to his feet before he shoved himself through the doorway and into the bathroom.

Just as he had feared, Jesper was laying on the floor of the bathroom in a puddle of quickly growing blood. His white shirt and green pants had already been doused in the stuff when he had returned home with their wife, but Nina was squirming so much that they had all assumed that it was her’s. Now that his face was visible after that stupid hat had been taken off, Kaz could see that his lips were ashy and his eyes were glassy. The blood spreading out form under him into a large circle would have been proof enough of that without the rest of the symptoms.

“You stupid, stupid-” Kaz gasped as he shuffled over to his husband. He didn’t pay any attention to the sticky red mess clinging to his knees as he wrapped his arms around Jesper to bring him up slightly.

“Come on, Kaz, you’re quicker with your tongue than that,” Jesper winced.

“Shut up, you’re dying, I can’t think of something to say to you other than the fact that you’re dying!” he nearly screamed. He turned towards the door. “Inej! Wylan! Someone come help!”

“I’m sorry, Kaz,” Jesper whispered. His voice was just as hoarse and scratchy as Kaz’s was when he had spent the entire day shouting at the other Dregs. It made Kaz wonder how long he had been in there screaming or repressing noises for.

“Where are you hit?” he demanded. He gently placed his husband back down on the ground and then began the laborious job of trying to undo twenty buttons with shaking hands.

“Chest, s’upper right quadrant,” Jesper gasped out. The hand furthest away from Kaz raised up so that he could gesture vaguely at it like that would somehow help.

Kaz eventually ended up wrenching the two pieces of fabric away from each other, sending buttons flying everywhere. “Shit, fuck, Jes,” he whispered as he saw the actual scene in front of him. The bullet had entered just to the left of Jesper’s shoulder so that it had shattered his collarbone, but there was another wound underneath that. There were two wounds that weren’t bleeding at the same rate because the other man’s binder had managed to act as a sort of tourniquet despite the garment being ruined.

“We’re going to get you help, we’re going to figure this out,” Kaz whispered. Despite himself, he reached up and cupped Jesper’s face with his hand just to remind himself that his husband was still there.

“Probably not, I think,” Jesper groaned as he let his gray eyes fall shut in a grimace. “At least I didn’t go out because I was a Grisha.”

“No, you went out because I love you,” Kaz whispered. “No, fuck this, you’re not dying. INEJ!”

He heard footsteps on the wooden ground of their hotel before the aforementioned woman appeared in the doorway. Her eyes widened almost comically when she saw the blood before she sprinted away. He knew that he was getting her suture kit and the others to come and help him repair their husband, but he couldn’t help but feel that he had been abandoned. He was left with Jesper, who was bleeding out in his arms because he hadn’t valued his own life enough to tell them that he had been wounded too.

[patrocool]

i would love to hear about pekka rollins:( torture fic, honey in your ears, spice in your mouth, slaz crack fic, and trying to change!!!

ooooh okay, so!!

pekka rollins:( torture fic is a rewrite of one of my 'verses from band-aids on our bullet wounds (chaps 21, 25, and 31 i think?) that has been expanded a Lot. it is now 15k words with 6/18 planned chapters written entirely. its @randomcat1832's fault that it is now so long. in this fic, kaz was taken by rollins and tortured for six months. he ends up blinded and Very Fucked up and traumatised, the the fic is over the course of roughly a year after being rescued as he slowly heals and becomes himself again. also trans kaz for the win:)

honey in your ears, spice in your mouth is a companion to my sick fic, and i hate myself every day that's dealt that i couldn't comfort you, where kanej have a fight, inej leaves on the wraith, and kaz ends up getting deathly sick, all in kaz's pov. honey in your ears is inej's pov of all of that!!

slaz crack fic is uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh well. if you know me irl please dont read this. the fic is basically what if,,,, the slat,,,,,, fucked kaz,,,,, and also inej was there

trying to change is a short lil thing inspired by the mother mother song of the same name. it sits unfinished bc i thought it was bad but now reading it, i think it could actually be an interesting start to something. i just,,, dont have a plot for it. but basically, kaz is beating himself up for not immediately becoming Better for inej post-ck

snippets under the cut!

pekka torture:( fic

TW: implied past torture, extreme trauma response, a bit of racism, violence, poor mental state, all around Bad Time, and its in 2nd person!

Most of the townsfolk think Inej is your nurse. You know you should be angry and you think you are, but it feels muted. Distant. As if behind a thick curtain, or perhaps on a separate floor of a house.

(As if you were still in that cellar while your heart was out of your chest, far, far away while Pekka was too damn close–)

You consider using the knife strapped to your arm underneath your sleeve to take a stab at some of the particularly nasty commenters, but it feels more like a learned behavior, a routine you can fall back into rather than an urge in the moment. You think you might be so used to violence that it's become your default, and you hate that you even have to resort to your default when you should be angry. You should be furious–

But you’re not. You’re just numb.

-

honey in your ears, spice in your mouth

Once the letter was in her hands, Specht subtly nodded towards her captain’s quarters. He knew as well as she did that whatever was on that piece of parchment was important– and likely sensitive information.

She didn’t need to be told twice.

She barely even registered Wylan’s wax seal as she cracked it open to Jesper’s familiar scrawl.

It didn’t say much but what it did made her stomach plummet in the worst way.

Wraith,

KB is sick. Raging fever. Called-me-Jordie-again-and-didn’t-seem-to-know-he-was-wrong sort of sick. Don’t know for how long, finding medik.

He keeps mumbling your name.

-J

Within half a bell, the Wraith was heading towards Ketterdam with a vengeance with only the little dinghy sent ahead as a warning.

Tell him I’m on my way, was all she wrote on the return note.

-

slaz crack fic

cw: nsfw lmfao

No one understood Kaz like the Slat did. No one knew what he needed like it did either.

Kaz couldn’t stand the touch of another person, the very thought of skin against his repulsed him, but he was still a man with certain urges and, well. The Slat didn’t exactly have skin, now did it?

-

trying to change

tw: implied parental and child death (kaz's backstory), self hate

“What’s wrong?” She asked, looking him over carefully– he felt her eyes lingering on his still scabbing knuckles and the stiff way his leg was laid out. 

I missed you, he wanted to say. I didn’t have you by my side. I couldn’t do even the one thing you asked of me. I’ve failed you at the very simplest of things, things that Jesper had managed within days of knowing you and yet I still have nightmares about. I can’t do this, I can’t be what you want. I can’t be the man you want me to be– I only know how to be the monster the Barrel made me into.

He turned back to his books. “I’m fine,” he said, stiff as dry wood.

“You’re not,” Inej said, her words cutting through him like a knife.

(Like a plow.)

Kaz swallowed down a lump in his throat and his eyes found the date of the most recent log in his book. He hadn’t changed, and Jordie would never get the chance to. Because that was what it was really about, wasn’t it? That’s what it always was– he couldn’t even just move on with his life. He was forever stuck in this limbo between dead and alive, crumbling under the weight of his dead forever-13-year-old brother.

[internutter]

Challenge #03766-J113: Kitten Miss

An unfortunate illness has begun to spread among a station's cat population, both skitties and transfers. People begin trapping the animals to test for the illness and get them treated, at least until an inoculation can be found. Spay / Neuter, treat, release. -- Anon Guest

[AN: The Skitties are self-regulating with some genes added for population control. Sort of related to how locusts swarm]

"This is Fernweh Station broadcasting a general distress call. This is a quarantine zone. Do not dock if you have cats or Skitties on board your vessel. We have detected a dangerous new infection that targets felines, felinoids, and like species[1]. It is deadly. We are searching for solutions, and you may only dock if you have them, and you do not have cats of any kind on board." There was an option to download a full documentation of the infection, replete with every offensensitivity warning they could provide.

It was a nasty disease, and the lingering pain its victims suffered was not for the weak of heart.

On Fernweh, it was easy to capture and contain pocket colonies of Skitties by sending out alarm pheremones. They could be isolated, have samples taken, and remain in their respective pods until something new happened. That vector of social contact was closed. The problem was the 'regular' cats. Feral or tame, they didn't like being captured and they really didn't like being isolated in little habitats. They hissed and spit at the people trying to take samples. Some used their claws against the attending Mediks' livesuits, no matter how ineffectual that was.

[Check the source for the rest of the story]

[cmweller]

Challenge #03766-J113: Kitten Miss

An unfortunate illness has begun to spread among a station's cat population, both skitties and transfers. People begin trapping the animals to test for the illness and get them treated, at least until an inoculation can be found. Spay / Neuter, treat, release. -- Anon Guest

[AN: The Skitties are self-regulating with some genes added for population control. Sort of related to how locusts swarm]

"This is Fernweh Station broadcasting a general distress call. This is a quarantine zone. Do not dock if you have cats or Skitties on board your vessel. We have detected a dangerous new infection that targets felines, felinoids, and like species[1]. It is deadly. We are searching for solutions, and you may only dock if you have them, and you do not have cats of any kind on board." There was an option to download a full documentation of the infection, replete with every offensensitivity warning they could provide.

It was a nasty disease, and the lingering pain its victims suffered was not for the weak of heart.

On Fernweh, it was easy to capture and contain pocket colonies of Skitties by sending out alarm pheremones. They could be isolated, have samples taken, and remain in their respective pods until something new happened. That vector of social contact was closed. The problem was the 'regular' cats. Feral or tame, they didn't like being captured and they really didn't like being isolated in little habitats. They hissed and spit at the people trying to take samples. Some used their claws against the attending Mediks' livesuits, no matter how ineffectual that was.

[Check the source for the rest of the story]

[aacehypez]

Stonebwoy - Far Away

Stonebwoy - Far Away

Stonebwoy – Far Away mp3 download Stonebwoy Far Away mp3 download. Reggae/Dancehall artiste and Def Jam signee Stonebwoy dishes out this new song tagged “Far Away” off his yet to be released “5th Dimension” Album. Check it out below and kindly share it with your friends and loved ones. Also Download: Medikal – Warning Listen to far away song by stonebowy and kindy add it to your favorite music…

[wesper-ao3feed]

Lay your secrets on my lips dear

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/t6DJliH by Reonnex "Medication?" Jesper frowned. This was not the direction he expected this conversation to go. "Like medicine you had as a kid?" "Yeah!" Wylan smiled out. "Couldn't stand the smell of alcohol for the…the longest time. I would get so nauseous and worry the doctor my father hired was back." Wylan said with such little care. "Slow down what doctor?" Jesper asked, moving to place his drink down before leaning back on the couch, looking at Wylan worriedly. This didn't seem like the normal medik that any kid would get treatment from being sick. Medicine was supposed to make you feel better. Not feel nauseous and dizzy. "You know! The medication to cure me. To...to try to fix my brain and help me read? I told you about it didn't I?" No. No Wylan didn't. After a long day of filling papers and meetings, Wylan and Jesper decide to celebrate with wine. Everything is going great. That is until a drunk Wylan starts to admit something from his past that wasn't meant to be revealed. Words: 5950, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo, Shadow and Bone (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Jesper Fahey, Wylan Van Eck Relationships: Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Bad Parent Jan Van Eck, Drunk Wylan Van Eck, Jesper Fahey Loves Wylan Van Eck, Wylan Van Eck Needs a Hug, Jesper Fahey Needs a Hug, Hangover, Sad and Sweet, Domestic Fluff, One Shot, Domestic Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck, Drunken Confessions, Medical Trauma read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/t6DJliH

[kobbymichael]

Strongman - Dirge

Hip-hop rap artiste Strongman, hailing from Ghana, has released his latest track titled “Dirge,” produced by Tubhani Muzik. The song, which appears to be a diss track aimed at a fellow musician, is already generating a lot of buzz in the Ghanaian music industry. Upon listening to the song, it’s apparent that Strongman is responding to Medikal’s recent release called “Warning,” where he dissed…

[hardynwa]

Video: Amerado replies Medikal's warning with his famous red letter

In the Ghanaian music industry, the beef between artists is not a new phenomenon. From Sarkodie and M.anifest to Shatta Wale and Stonebwoy, fans have witnessed some intense rivalries over the years. In recent times, Amerado and Medikal have been in the headlines for their ongoing feud, which has taken a new turn with Amerado's response to Medikal's Warning. Many fans were left wondering what the content of the "red letter" could be, and it turns out it was a reference to a song Amerado was planning to release in response to Medikal. In the song, Amerado rapped about Medikal's work input over the past years, claiming that he should stay focused. He also referenced Medikal's recent controversies, including his diss to fellow rappers. Amerado didn't hold back in his criticism, and his lyrics were biting and direct. It's unclear whether or not the feud between Amerado and Medikal will continue, but one thing is for sure: Amerado is not backing down. He has proven that he is willing to stand up for himself and redeem his position as Ghana's best rapper. Watch Amerado - a RED letter to MEDIKAL here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvGeNILiGuk Read the full article

[usmsgutterson]

THE HALLOWEEK OF HURT: DAY FOUR

What If? - M.H x gn! reader

Okay! Fourth day and I have officially kept to the rule I brought up on day two! Also the first time I've written for Matthias and my brain went "okay, what if this canon event from the books was different?" so I went where inspiration took me. This one is shorter but longer fics will come out for the rest of this event

Fic type- this is just. this is so much angst

Warnings- mentions of chest wounds, gun shots/being shot, and a lot of mentions blood in the general sense

When Matthias found you, sitting on the front steps of the Van Eck mansion, he noticed immediately that you were bleeding. You had your hand over the wound but the blood had seeped past that.

You'd been shot in the chest, so it seemed. It also seemed like there was nothing that could have been done to save you but still, Matthias saw you and was determined to find a way to do so from the moment he registered you sitting on the steps.

You reached out to him and like a loyal wolf being beckoned to it's pack, Matthias was beside you in an instant. You'd loved him as long as you had known him, and sometimes, Matthias almost felt like he'd loved you since then, too. Meeting you had set off a chain reaction of events that went in a way that turned out weirdly good.

"Are you okay?" You asked, even as Matthias was taking off his coat and pressing it against the wound in your chest to try and staunch the bleeding. "Matthias, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said. "Nearly got shot by a druskelle but I made it out. He missed. Are you?"

At that, you laughed. Matthias tried to ignore the blood he saw through your teeth.

"I've been better," you said. "Infinitely better."

Matthias was doing all that he could, but still, he felt like there was more he could've been doing. Shot wounds to the chest were easy to survive, weren't they? They had to be if there was enough time to react to them.

"I'll go inside," Matthias said. "Get someone to call a medik and we can--"

"No," you said. "No. I'm dying, okay? There's nothing that can be done to fix that. We have to deal with it as it is, and if you leave me to die alone I swear to all of the saints--"

Matthias pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Okay," he said. You could've been right about your point and Matthias did not want to spend your last moments arguing.

"You're the love of my life, you know that?" You asked. "I died loving you, Matthias Helvar, and right now, I think that's all that matters to me. I died in the arms of the person I care the most about. Please don't let me go."

"Never," Matthias said, fighting off a random surge of tears. "Never. I promise."

Your gaze flitted to the sky, and Matthias pressed a kiss to the side of your head, and then you were gone and there was nothing left for Matthias in Ketterdam.

[ghanashowbizonline]

Fella Makafui reacts after Twitter user accuses her of ‘sleeping’ with Medikal’s ex-manager

Actress and wife of rapper Medikal, Fella Makafui, has issued a stern warning to a Twitter user who accused her of sleeping with Medikal’s former manager, Flow Delly. According to the user, Flow Delly, who stopped being Medikal’s manager two months ago, was allegedly having an affair with the Yolo actress. This follows Medikal’s revelation in an interview on Daybreak Hitz where he tagged the…

[trinitros]

“don’t worry?”

their voice was high pitched as they held jesper up, tears prickling a the corners of their eyes. ghezen’s hand, leave it to jesper to make wylan go from worried to extremely stressed out within seconds. they didn’t even know how jesper had gotten themselves into that situation, how it always seemed to happen right after they’d warned jesper to be safe and then when he’d promised to be safe, it was like those words were poison themselves.

they turned towards the servants that had scrambled around the corner, they grasped jesper tightly and tried their best to drag him into the nearby room, plopping him down onto the couch they’d managed to find in their panic. they were shaking, their breathing ragged as they tried to get a grasp on themselves. get a grip. a little voice in their head spoke as they panicked, servants came pouring into the room with cloths, water and other medical stuff that wylan knew little to nothing about. 

“we need to get a medik, go find someone, please.”

their voice was flooded with desperation, as if it was the only language they knew. the servant they asked nodded frantically and ran from the room as they turned their focus back to jesper, lifting his shirt in order to get to the bleeding wound.

“do you even remember how you got that?”

wylan had spent the past few hours of the late evening and night pacing around their shared living room, worry taunting them at every turn they made as if they couldn’t escape the overwhelming thoughts that something had happened and jesper was never going to walk through those doors again. that they’d be alone again in that big house that they had come to love as much as they did because jesper was in it, he made it home when nothing else could and wylan was forever grateful for such a thing.

he heard the front door open and his feet moved before his thoughts could, if it was such bad news that jesper would dead, it would’ve been a knock and kaz never entered the from door, he preferred to scare the two crows by coming in the back and sneaking up on them with whatever plan he had schemed in his head that day. 

“jesper?”

once they’d gotten into the hallway, however, any relief that had sunken into their body by sheer dumb hope was shot down and they furrowed their brows. there jesper stood, in the doorway, looking like he was about to fall any moment and wylan didn’t quite know how to process it. he scrambled forward, almost falling over his own feet trying to get to the door as fast as he could. his arms wrapped around jesper while trying to keep him upwright as he yelled down the hallway, hoping some of the servants were still awake to hear him and come quickly. wylan thought himself a little strong but not strong enough to trudge jesper towards a comfortable place. 

“ghezen’s hand, jesper, what have you done to yourself?”

[sophierequests]

Can I request a Hurt/Comfort & Angst fic featuring Nikolai x f!Reader? Maybe f!Reader is some sort of duke's daughter and promised to the second prince of Ravka who is serving in the first Army infantry at the time. However, when news of his devastating injuries arrive to the palace, she rushes off to see him in the medic tent at the Fjerdan front as the doctors are unsure whether he will live or not - only to be joined by a person she'd least suspected by her side: Vasily Lantsov. His royal idiotness himself. How will they react to seeing Nikolai dying? Maybe f! Reader has some previously hidden abilities that will be able to save the little Lantsov...

my blood is tainted // in the bright lilac light part one

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Request

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x f!Reader

A/N: This request was so good oml! I loved writing it, even though I was very sleep-deprived whilst reading it for the first time, because I thought you wanted me to write a love triangle kind of thing with Nikolai and Vasily dslgsakg (don't ask). But I really like how this turned out, so thank you for the request! <333 Also, I love the term royal idiotness, so thank you for that.

You can find part two here!

Summary: After Nikolai gets badly injured, the reader throws all caution to the wind to go and see him. Is there still a chance for him to survive?

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, slight Fluff

Word Count: 4.0K

Warnings: mention of death, injuries, blood, infections and Vasily Lantsov (this is a teeny tiny bit gorey, but not too much)

You felt sick. Violently sick. At this point, you would have preferred hunching over the toilet to empty the contents of your stomach than obsessively rereading the slightly crumpled-up letter you held on so firmly. It didn't matter how many times your eyes skimmed over the neatly written lines, the words didn't magically distort and somehow create a different sentence. They stayed the exact same.

Lady Y/N Y/L/N,

I deeply regret to inform you that your fiancé Nikolai Lantsov, Major of the Twenty-Second Regiment, has been majorly wounded in action in the performance of duty and service of his country. The nature of his wounds has not been fully assessed as of now, but I would advise you to calm your worries. Our mediks are highly trained and will do everything in their power to restore his health. You will be promptly furnished with any additional information received.

Your obedient Servant,

Sergeant Pechkin

Sergeant in Charge of Records

No matter how many soothing words littered the text, you were well aware that his actual state was far from decent. After years and years of political training from your father, you knew that the First Army only bothered to send out notifications once the soldier was on the brink of death.

Nikolai was dying.

Your soon-to-be husband was dying, and they didn't even have the guts to tell you the truth. The man you had been friends with since childhood - the man you had been promised to for even longer - was dying and there was nothing you could do about it.

Well, nothing official, at least.

"Ma? Da? I'm going out for a ride!" You called into the drawing room of the visitor quarters of the Grand Palace. You didn't push your luck by going in to say goodbye to your parents properly. They would never approve of your plan, so any sort of confrontation would be ill-advised.

"Of course, my dear!" Your father's baritone voice called from behind the door. The sound of his voice was rather joyous, indicating that he already had one too many glasses of wine today. Maybe this would help with concealing your absence.

"Be back before supper! We're not waiting for you this time." Your mother added in her usual scolding tone. Maybe staying away unnoticed wasn’t that easy after all.

"I promise!" As soon as you finished that sentence, you began hurrying off in the direction of the stables. The bag on your shoulder wasn't filled with your usual riding equipment, but with a few rations of food and other things you would need for a three-day ride to the Fjerdan border.

On your way down the stairs the devil himself - Vasily Lantsov - passed you. He paused, letting his eyes dart over your dishevelled appearance. By now, they should have also received the notice about Nikolai’s injuries. However, the King and Queen were notorious for keeping their letters stashed away until they had time to open them in the evening. You imagined how they would react. Would they be devastated? Would they want to seek revenge? Or would they continue to act stone-faced, even though their son could already be dead?

“Well, you look…lovely.” He chuckled, giving you a quizzical look. Even though it was still early in the afternoon, he looked like he was already terribly drunk. And judging by the sour smell coming from his mouth, that shouldn’t be too far from the truth. “Where are you headed?” Saints, you really couldn’t stand him.

“I’m off to go on a ride. The weather seems pleasant today, so I just have to seize the chance.” The honeyed pitch of your voice would have been blatantly obvious to any sober person, but thankfully, Vasily didn’t belong to that group of people.

“Sadly, my dearest brother isn’t here. I’m sure he wouldn’t have allowed his future wife to go on a ride all by herself.”

“What a shame he isn’t here then. But if you’ll excuse me, I intend on leaving while it’s still light outside.” You didn’t wait for him to say anything in return before speeding down the few remaining flights of stairs.

The military encampment wasn’t too far from the Fjerdan border, so with a bit of pep in your horse’s step, you completed the journey in three days. You only took breaks to eat and rest, but the adrenaline of needing to see Nikolai before he died kept you awake.

“Lady Y/L/N! What are you doing here?” Pechkin appeared from one of the tents as you handed your horse to one of the soldiers, who was assigned to take care of it. The sergeant looked as if he hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in forever, and you couldn’t help but flinch at the thought of what might’ve caused his distress.

“I’m here to see my fiancé.” You answered sternly, putting all the years of training your facial expression to use. The man shifted on his feet, not wanting to deny you, whilst also not wanting you to see whatever husk was left of Nikolai.

“His Royal Highness is currently not in a state to allow visitors I’m afraid. It really would be best to.-”

“I’m here to see my fiancé. I won’t leave until I know what happened to him, and how his chances of survival are. This is not up for discussion, Sergeant.”

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his already greying hair. He knew that you were stubborn - you were supposed to wed Nikolai Lantsov, of course, you were stubborn - but he had hoped that you would at least be a bit less persistent.

“Fine. But you might not enjoy seeing him like this.” He motioned for you to follow him in the direction of a small grey tent. The medik tent. Your heart sank when you reached the entrance. What would you see? Would you be able to stomach it?

Pechkin halted briefly, sparing you another thoughtful glance before lifting the flap and allowing you to enter the cluttered room. It seemed to have been his personal tent before it was repurposed as his infirmary. You peered around. A tiny desk stood in the corner of the room, a stack of opened letters - probably yours - was sprawled out on top of it, right next to a collection of various maps and plans.

Your heart dropped when your gaze met the reason for your distress. An unnaturally pale-looking Nikolai Lantsov laid in a makeshift sickbed. His face was completely devoid of any emotion or life, as a medik stood next to him, presumably checking his vitals and medicine intake.

"Saints…" You whispered under your breath. You had seen him injured countless times before, but never had he looked this empty.

The man behind you rested his hand on your shoulder in a futile attempt to comfort you, but you didn’t even acknowledge his presence. The medik turned to face you with a glum expression on his face. In that moment, you assumed the worst.

“How did he get injured?” It took you a few seconds to register that the words were your own. It felt surreal.

“His group got ambushed, and he tried to defend the others. They got overpowered and he was stabbed. We were lucky to find them while it was still daytime. Had the night already started to set in, we would probably not have been able to retrieve them.” Pechkin explained. You didn’t have to face him to know that a tight scowl was adorning his face. He and Nikolai had gotten along great - it was a fact that always seemed to matter greatly, when he brought it up in his letters - so you could assume that he was quite affected by the whole situation.

You walked over to the bed, sitting down on the free space right next to him. If he hadn’t looked so pale, one could have mistaken his critical condition with a very relaxing good night’s sleep. His breathing was unnaturally shallow, but it still could’ve just meant that he was asleep. However, you knew better.

“His heartbeat is drastically too slow.” The medik spoke up, taking the elongated silence as his turn to address you. “There were minor scratches we managed to heal fine, but the stab wound seems to have a much larger effect on his body than we had expected, even though it appeared to be quite minor on first glance. By being exposed to dirt and other outside influences, it looked quite infected once he came into our care. We tried to treat it as best as we could, however, the infection still remains. It pains me deeply to say this, but it is unsure whether he’ll manage to survive his injuries.”

“Has he been awake at some point or has he been unconscious the whole time?” You asked suspiciously. The mediks assigned to treat the sons of the Royal family were highly skilled, and you had your doubts that the effects of a supposedly minor stab wound would cause him to be in such a terrible state.

“Yes, there have been a few times he has been semi-conscious, but it appeared to be more of a feverish daze than actual consciousness. We have not found a feasible explanation for this sort of behaviour, though.”

“What does the wound look like?”

“I don’t think that this information is suited for-”

“Sergeant Pechkin, I have seen people’s tongues get cut out after betraying their country. I have seen people get beheaded for way less than that. I have seen the marks of war, and I wish to live long enough to survive its wake, so I should begin to get used to it.”

“If that is what you wish for.” The medik said slowly, coming up to stand right next to you. He removed the heavy blanket, revealing a previously white bandage that had been soaked with blood by now. You could see the man frown, as he worked on removing the fabric that covered his injuries.

Nothing could have prepared you for what hid underneath.

The gash truly didn’t seem to be that deep, what really startled you were the purple and black veiny bruise patterns that originated from the wound, spreading over the expanse of his chest. The smell emitting from the wound smelled foul, sickly-sweet, whilst also carrying the stench of mould with it. This wasn’t a normal stab wound.

“How long have the bruises been there?”

“Uhm, they started showing one day after he was retrieved. They started off as blue and purple bruises, but have changed over the last few days to look like…this. We have never seen an injury similar to this.”

This told you everything you needed to know. The sadness you had felt prior to this was replaced by anger.

“That’s because it isn’t-”

The flap to the tent was thrown open again, revealing a person you would have never expected. Vasily took wide strides as he walked inside. He looked surprisingly calm, but as much as you wanted to discredit his feelings, you knew that he would still be devastated if he had to watch his younger brother die.

“Your Royal Highness!” Pechkin called out, visibly startled by another royal showing up without notice. You imagined that another unannounced appearance would cause him to go into cardiac arrest. The sergeant wanted to speak again, but Vasily silenced him with a simple wave of his hand.

“I’m here to see my brother, that is my right.” You moved to stand up in order to allow him access to Nikolai, however, this offer was quickly dismissed by a disapproving glance. “Stay there, it’s fine. You,” He turned to the two other men inside the room with a grimace on his face. “I’d suggest you leave for the time being. I’m sure Lady Y/L/N would like some time with her betrothed without the presence of military officials.” After giving each other a reserved look, they both left the three of you alone.

“I see that you have diverted quite a bit from your original plan.” Vasily stared you down. It was the same stare he used to give Nikolai and you after finding out about your newest shenanigans back when you were young kids. “Do you have any idea how worried the duke and the duchess were, when you didn’t return in the evening? Having their only daughter suddenly disappear without any trace or note about her whereabouts? You should be glad that my parents didn’t send out the Royal Guard to look for you.”

“I know, but I had no other choice, Vasily! My parents would have never allowed me to go, and I couldn’t have lived with the fact that he might die without me seeing him one last time.” You felt the heat rise up in your cheeks. His chiding was the last thing you needed right now.

“You have no idea how long it took me to convince them to allow me to look for you.” He sighed, throwing the bag he carried on the ground next to him. His tone had also grown a bit softer, even though he still sounded as boastful as ever.

“Why?”

“I saw the letter, and I opened it. All hell would have broke loose if my mother had found out about her little precious boy being on the brink of death.” His gaze wandered to his brother, but it flinched away as soon as he saw the extent of his injuries. “I knew immediately where you went. It was the perfect opportunity for me to get here unnoticed, even though I’m sure that spell won’t last too long. I assume that they’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“So you lied to your parents, because you didn’t want them to know what actually happened?”

“When you put it like that it sounds a lot less honourable than I had imagined it. But yes. That’s precisely what I did.”

“I- I’m not quite sure what to say. That’s probably one of the most honourable things you’ve done.” He waved your comment off, allowing himself a more concrete glance at Nikolai, his eyes never meeting the wound, however.

“Saints, that smells terrible.” The crown prince had to cover his mouth in order to resist the urge to vomit. And for once, you couldn’t even blame him. “What happened?”

“Stab wound.” You didn’t feel like voicing your suspicion, but Vasily wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

“A stab wound? That does not look like a simple stab wound, Y/N.” That’s because it wasn’t. You knew exactly what it was, and how you could still give him a chance to survive this. The only thing keeping you from it, was the measures you had to take to make it happen. “You know more than you’re letting on. What is it?” It was for the best to give in. Maybe he could help you.

“Have you ever heard of Vaizite?” He shook his head as a response. “Some also call it the Violet Rot. It’s a very strong, chemically created poison, that you’d usually only find in Shu Han. I have no idea how the Fjerdans managed to get their hands on it, but I’m sure there had to be some crooked scheme going on.”

“Is it fatal?”

“That’s difficult to say.” He gave you a frown, but you weren’t keen on seeking his approval. “It was not specifically created to kill. The Shu usually tend to put it in their prisoner’s drinks to torture them. If ingested it poisons you from the inside out, but it doesn’t kill you. It does, however, make sure that every waking moment is spent in excruciating pain. It slowly eats away at your muscles, until you’re unable to do anything but lay there and endure the pain. When they think you have suffered enough, they dispose of them through killing them as a supposed act of mercy.”

“But he hasn’t digested it, has he? What happens if the blade was laced with it?”

“It is to assume that it could be fatal. Not immediately, but eventually. By indirectly injecting the poison in his blood stream, it could have a way worse effect on his health than if he had consumed it. I have never seen the bruises develop that fast.” You fiddled with the straps of your coat, avoiding his penetrative gaze.

“How do you know all of this?”

“Do you still recall what I studied at Ketterdam University?”

“Something that had to do with plants?”

“Herbology. That’s what I studied. There was a very long and drawn out unit on recognizing and working with poisonous plants. One unit included a plant called Oshrovov, also called Assassin’s Polkweed. It’s deadly when touched, but once you dilute it with some other chemicals, it can be the perfect weapon for torture. We talked about that quite a few times, so I do know a few things about it.”

“So you know what to do to save him?” Hope was evident in his voice, and you knew that you had no other option than to reveal something you had hoped to keep hidden for just a bit longer.

“I can try, but you might not like what I’m doing. And you have to promise me that you won’t allow anyone to enter while I work.” Vasily raised a brow in confusion. What exactly were you planning to do.

“A promise coming from me isn’t worth a dime, but if that’s all it takes for you to help him, I can’t say no.” That was good enough for you.

“Good. Get that bowl over there.” You pointed at a brass bowl that stood on one of the sidetables close to the entrance. He obliged, carefully watching you as you began to lean over Nikolai’s torso.

“Where am I supposed to put it?”

“You’re supposed to keep it in your hands, until I tell you to do otherwise.” Vasily had to bite back an offended remark as he listened to you bossing him around, but you just didn’t care about his royal feelings at that point. “I’ll need you to act quickly and catch the poison once I extracted it.”

“Extract it? How are you planning on-”

“See for yourself.” With that, you let your fingertips hover over his body, whilst shutting your eyes tightly. You had imagined that you might be a bit rusty in using your Small Science, but after you felt a familiar hum hit your palms, it was as if you had never stopped training it in the first place.

Since you had never been officially trained at the Little Palace, you had only a few minor lessons with your mother to fall back upon. They had kept your abilities hidden away from anyone that wasn’t close family, so it was a pretty dangerous for you to be so callous with using them, especially around someone like Vasily Lantsov. All of these worries faded away when you realized who exactly was lying in front of you. You needed to save him.

Your hands twitched ever so slightly when you located the poison. Quickly, you focussed your Small Science on directing the substance towards the open wound. You felt how it tried to latch onto his arteries, but your determination was stronger.

“Vasily, keep the bowl ready.” Not wanting to be asked twice, he stretched it out towards you, keeping it as far away from him as possible.

Slowly but surely, a thick mass of purple crawled out of his wound, taking the dark black tendrils with it. When you finally removed all of it from Nikolai’s torso, you didn’t hesitate to quickly drop it into the bowl. The substance splashed as it met the cold metal, but it didn’t manage to get even close to touching either of you. Even though you had been quite careful, Vasily still recoiled after watching the liquid fall. Before he could dump it on his shirt, you grabbed it from his hands, hastily making sure to keep it out of reach.

When your gaze shifted back towards your partner, you felt your heart do a flip as you noticed his normal breathing pattern return. The wound was still there - you weren’t a Healer, so what did you expect - but the dark bruises that littered his chest were finally gone almost completely, just like the rotten smell.

“You’re Gri-”

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll make sure to dump the whole bowl of poison on you.” You threatened, pointing an accusing finger at the slightly frightened Vasily. “And if anyone else should ever get wind of this, I’ll make sure to provide you with an even more painful death than anything you could imagine.” It was a completely empty threat, but it still did its job.

“Alright, I will take this secret to my grave!” He exclaimed, raising his hands with a scared expression on his face.

"You better do."

Vasily quickly called for a medik, giving him some half-arsed explanation for the sudden disappearance of the bruises. The medik quickly got to work, cleaning and disinfecting the gash again before bandaging the wound again.

You didn’t even have to wait a full day before Nikolai’s cheeks reclaimed their previous colour, and his eyes eventually pried open. He let out a low groan as he attempted to sit up, but you reacted faster. With one hand on his chest, you pressed him back down into the mattress. It was only then, that he noticed where he was.

“Y/N?” His voice sounded hoarse, but as long as he was alive, that didn’t matter. “Y/N! What are you doing here? Why are you-”

“You almost managed to get yourself killed, Nikolai. Of course, your fiancé is going to be here.” Vasily cut him off, a self-satisfied grin on his face as his brother’s head whipped around to face him.

“Vasily? What are you doing here?”

“Your situation was critical. No matter how many differences we might have, I’d still not let you die alone. You’re my brother, after all. Or do you really think that lowly of me?” If he heard your muttered ‘yes’, he chose to tactfully ignore it, rather taking joy in Nikolai’s utterly befuddled expression.

Whilst their brotherly bickering was continuing, his hand snaked its way into yours, gently squeezing it in an act of reassurance. You couldn’t even begin to describe how grateful you were, that he was still alive, giving you the warmest smile he could muster.

“I was poisoned?!” He exclaimed as his brother had finished the basics of what happened before you arrived.

“You were stabbed and poisoned.” You added with a sly smile, watching as his concerned gaze shot towards you.

“What happened to the poison? How did they get it out?” His eyes filled with realization, as he glanced between you and Vasily. “Y/N, please don’t tell me-”

“Vasily is the only one who knows. Don’t worry. The information will be safe with him, won’t it?”

“She threatened to kill me if I tell anyone, so I’ll keep my mouth shut.” Vasily grumbled, causing Nikolai to let his head fall back in relief. He had expected the worst, but he knew that you were smarter than that. “Wait, hold on a second, you knew about her…disposition?”

“Of course, I knew. She'll soon be my wife, in case you have forgotten.” You pressed a quick kiss to Nikolai’s hand, soaking up the feeling of finally being near him again. From now on, everything would be okay.

Well, after you explained to your parents why you had disappeared for other a week. You sadly couldn’t use your Small Science for that.

Taglist:

Grishaverse in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light

Nikolai Lantsov: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @kaye-here @maximoffgxrl