#The Madman screams into the void

[charliespringverse]

made the mistake of talking to myself on twitter as i would on tumblr and now i wish i'd been violently burned alive as an infant

[itsdefinitely]

okay hi

was the frank bit scripted? at all? i cannot tell. that's something that sneeg could've come up with on the fly, but there's also this image:

which means they had to have had a set piece for him.

i don't think it was just a bit, at least, not completely. how many of those bits are put in there intentionally?

like the "i mean slime i mean slime i mean slime i mean slime" thing. that's obviously put in there for a reason.

was the. the drag bit was on purpose right? tell me that was in rehearsal. please tell me they had to rehearse doing the runway walks in drag (i know only ethan was in drag but still)

also with ep 1. showfall had both of them pre-record the cutaways, and both of them know it. when charlie reacts to the "uh oh. certain amount of time is almost up" it means he knows. does he know in that episode that he's on a show? does he think it's just some kind of cool cooking show? it would explain why there's applause on his entrance, and why he's completely unfazed by it (if he can hear it at all)

how thin is the veil? how much can slime see past it?

we know it's strong enough to keep him under control, as seen with his stream, but we also know it's thin enough around him to break (vivisection and the "i means slime i mean slime" cutaway). only sneeg has had the veil explicitly break around him (other than ranboo but that one's obvious) and that was only once; charlie has had the fourth wall break multiple times. why? why him?

does any of this make sense? i don't know.

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

I need a moment to appreciate this man. 👁️ 👄 👁️

Vincent Price - Diary of a Madman (1963)

[ririnya7]

I feel like everyone going into kinnporsche blind needs a guide of some sort

We can't be doing this alone 😭

[cantspelldragoonwithoutgoon]

a fairy lives in this staff, don't disturb her in her little house

the fae king staff isn't only pretty, it comes with free lore bending :3. eos goes into the staff when eclaire isn't scholar-ing. this fairy is her friend, she wouldn't just unsummon her like a tool. additionally eos also helps keeping her corrupted aether stable.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you do angst of ford x reader, where reader was Fords assistant and instead of Stanley pushing ford in, reader does while being possessed by bill.

Stanley is still there and they work hard to repair the portal but when Ford does get back he's really upset at reader because he still thinks that they themselves pushed him in and betrayed him. Ford won't let reader explain themselves, he just tells them to "get out his house"

Part 2 is right here

You didn’t want this.

Then again you weren’t the one to push him, Bill was after tricking you into making a deal with him. You should’ve known better than to put any amount of trust in that chaotic dream demon.

You screamed and shouted for either Ford or Stanley to notice the weirdness in your behaviour, the weirdly inhuman smile that spread across your face, anything as you were forced to watch yourself shove Ford into the portal.

‘BILL!’ You screamed but the demon possessing you acted as though he couldn’t hear you as he relinquished control of your body and let you back in it, just so that the last thing you saw of your dear friend was the look of betrayal upon his face as he disappeared into the portal forever.

‘FORD! No! IM SORRY! IM SO SORRY! IT WASNT ME!’ But Ford couldn’t hear you. He was gone thanks to bill you and you knew they no one would ever believe if you were to tell anyone that a demon did the deed. All they saw was what looked like you but not you in any other aspect that counted; However the fact that you were seen doing the crime was enough to fuel their biases against you regardless, fuelled but their needed to be right in everything, and it was difficult to change a persons mind once it’s made up.

‘It wasn’t me…’ you softly murmured to yourself as you collapsed on the floor of the laboratory as a seething Stanley stood behind you.

‘You pushed my brother.’ He snarled. ‘I saw you.’

You only stayed silent, it was better the beer the brunt of the blame then look like a madman trying to plead as to why they wasn’t true, and besides he wouldn’t believe you even if you did manage to make Bill confess before an audience that he had been the one to push Ford while possessed as you. The demonic bastard was far gone now, cackling at the ridicule you were receiving for his actions.

Stanley, not liking that you were silent, pulled you to face him by the collar of your shirt but before he could berate you further, he caught sight of your defeated face and tear stricken cheeks. ‘Go on, blame me because you would be believe me if I were to tell the truth.’ You said with a voice void of emotion. ‘Blame me all you want but I’m the only person who can help you get the portal up and running again. I’m willing to do so but not for you, but for Ford and in hopes of explaining myself to him and pray that he believes me.’ You add and without warning Stanley drops you on your arse and says in a voice equally devoid of emotion;

‘He’ll never believe you, he’s not that stupid.’

And after that interaction you and Stanley spent the next thirty years of your lives together rebuilding the portal, while Stan still blamed you for pushing his brother into the portal, he’s become more lenient as and when he would remind you of the reason you were doing this in the first place; more specifically during arguments after failed test runs of getting the portal open where he’d say to you in the best of the moment:

‘If it wasn’t for you my brother would still be here!’ Before storming upstairs while you remained in the lab, wasting away the midnight oil because you didn’t believe you deserved sleep after all that. You had grown numb to being Stan’s verbal punching bag, and would often times ignore his attempts to forget what happened and make peace with you, for you knew it wasn’t genuine because after you get his brother back you were more then likely to be kicked out of the shack for you had served your purpose for your crime.

So the relationship between yourself and Stan was never good and you tended to only act civil in the presence of Dipper and Mabel, two kids whom you have grown rather fond of during their stay. You remembered the first night they came here and were in high debate on whether they should stay with Stan or leave, you were quick to intervene and said;

‘Your Grunkle Stan is a wonderful man with a big heart despite his rough exterior. So please give him a chance instead of letting first impressions sway your thinking, you’ll be surprised as a result if you do and besides life is meant to be lived without regrets.’

You were literally the reason they decided to give Stan a chance and stay, but you knew you were never going to get that thank you from him, you were the person who pushed his brother into the portal remember? So you just carried on building the portal with him in awkward silence until the day finally came.

The day that Ford came home.

The day should’ve made you happy, ecstatic even but you knew that wouldn’t be the case for you as the moment Ford came out of the portal your blood ran cold.

He was glaring.

He was glaring at you with such a silent rage that you swore that you could’ve been killed by a state like that. But it was also a stare that told you of the damage your betrayal had caused him, he would never forgive you and that was your biggest fear this entire time, a fear that Stan knew and now it was proven true.

‘Ford-‘

‘Stop.’ He told you, breaking your heart. ‘I don’t want to hear your excuse.’

‘But-‘ you tried again.

‘I said no!’ Ford roared as everyone held their breath, even Stanley who had never heard his brother shout, in that moment he actually felt some remorse for you, some.

‘You’re the reason I was trapped in that portal for THRITY YEARS!’ Dipper and Mabel gasped as they too were now looking at you with hurt in their eyes, which made tears appear in the corner of your own.

‘Is it true Grunkle/graunt y/n?’ Mabel asked as dipper glared at you while keeping his sister as far away from you as he could.

‘No Mabel I-‘ you tried to take a step towards her but Ford was quick to cut you off and level you with a glare. ‘Stay away from my grand niece and nephew.’ He growled and you knew there was no point looking back at Stanley, who had kept uncharacteristically quite this entire time.

‘It’s wasn’t me-‘

‘Then who was it who pushed me then y/n?’ Ford asked.

You remained as silent as the day you let Stanley accused you of the same thing. There was no point in making your case when everyone’s minds have been made up, you were the monster in their story and now they were going to be rid of you once and for all.

‘Who?’ Ford asked again as he seethed, his eyes searching your dead ones for answers that have been in his mind for the past thirty years. You were his friend, he thought he could trust you but he guessed wrong, and now he couldn’t look you in the eyes without seeing the very person who shoved him in the portal with a sicken smile across their face.

Ford couldn’t trust you in the presence of Dipper and Mabel, no one was safe with you as far as he was concerned and he wanted to keep his family safe, even if it meant being rid of you once and for all.

When you didn’t say anything to save yourself, Ford points upwards. ‘Get out of my house, I don’t want to see you ever again. You’ve already done enough damage to this family as there is.’

You didn’t have the energy nor fight left in you to scream, shout or anything, you just swallowed the lump in your throat and moved out of the lab as Mabel and Stanley looked at you sympathetically; whereas Ford and dipper only glared at your retreating back.

‘Grunkle/ graunt y/n?’ Mabel called out to you weakly. You only shot her a small smile and mouthed ‘I’m sorry.’ She was always your favourite twin but it was time to say good bye and without another word, you pulled off the bracelet that Mable had made for you and threw it on the floor in front of her.

Mabel looked at the bracelet, then back up at you. ‘I made this for you.’ She tells you with tears in her eyes.

‘You deserve better than to put your trust in me my sweet shooting star, I’m a monster in your grunkles eyes,’ you shot a look towards Stan and Ford who were still staring before looking back at Mable, ‘It’s best that you start seeing me that way too because I only cause pain apparently to some.’ You replied and with that you left the shack and the pines family behind, venturing off into the pathway through the woods with nothing but a hole where you here should’ve been.

There was no point fighting your case to Ford, he wasn’t going to hear it, for he was no batter than everyone else and he just pointed the finger at you without second thought. So much for him being unique when he was just like the rest of them, so much like the rest of them that you find it almost laughable.

You’ll gladly stay out of his life, for whatever Stanford pines wished for, you’ll happily oblige as you were only ever the assistant that betrayed him in the end; a traitor.

[aajjks]

Destroyer (m)

Synopsis: you better start to love him before he destroys you and himself.

warnings: yándèrè, kïdnáppèd rèádèr, dárk contènt, câptívè rèádèr, obsèssíón, ünhëälthy bêhávïöür, dárk côntènt, ünstáble jk.

note: just a small little something, shouto’s ver. SHARE FEEDBACK AND TALK TO HIM. ENJOYYYY!!!!

“Jungkook… I hate you so much, I can’t even begin to describe how much I fucking despise your guts!” You scream at the top of your lungs, but your voice only comes back to you with the sound of echoing in the basement, Jungkook watched you with his calculated gaze. His lips were pressed in a thin straight line, you stared back at him with hatred filled eyes. A flash of longing and disappointment shined in his brown coloured eyes, but only for a second.

“Fuck you! Fuck you! I hate you!” You spat again, anger was coursing through your veins. He didn’t care, did he? Your skin was itching with irritation, it didn’t bug him. He was really insufferable. But you wanted to hurt him, in the worst ways possible.

But, To your disappointment, He only looked down.

“I know.” After what felt like an hour, he finally replied. Your eyebrows farrowed, what did he mean? “What?!?” You were now, genuinely confused. His tone was void of any emotion. It was cold, just like him. “I know, y/n.” He looked up from the concrete floor to you. His feet were starting to walk ahead in your direction, where you were held captive by the steel chains. “You never fail to express it. I-I know..” His eyes were glossy, his lips upturned, almost in a pout. If you didn’t know the real him, his tone would’ve made your heart shake.

But you knew damn well than to pity a monster like him.

“Oh that’s good! Kook, then… tell me..” you gave him a faux smile in return, taking in a deep breath. “Why don’t you fucking let me go?”

Your eyes never left his face. He was now close than ever, your faces were only inches apart, he could grab your face easily in his hands. You hated the way he looked at you, like you were his world. “Because I can’t. I can’t let you go, y/n.” His eyes were swimming in obsession, “I love you- AND I FUCKING HATE YOU!?!” It was infuriating.

This was starting to get frustrating, more than before. It had been months. Months without any human contact expect him, who claimed to be your lover. You only saw his face.

“I don’t care. I never cared. I love you and I only care about that. I don’t care if you hate or want to fucking kill me. I can even die for you.” Jungkook only dismissed your confession. His eyes had been covered with a dark shadow, his jaw was clenched, his tone was deadly. “Don’t you get it, sweetheart? I love you.” He chuckled at your disgusted expression.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to love me. My love for you is enough for both of us. I love you so fucking much, ever since I saw you, I have loved you ever since.” He whispered in a low husky tone.

He seemed to have completely change in a span of fifty seconds. It was scary. “I love you so much, like a fucking madman. I’m starting to go insane.” He gritted his teeth. His intense gaze sent shivers down your spine, his eyes were filled with craze, passion. “You’ll learn to love me, baby. Yes, you have to. You have to love me.” His fingers grabbed your face, gently but tightly. You only stared back in horror. His tone was dripping with craziness.

“You have to love me, sweetheart because now, my patience in running thin. I was never really a patient person y’know? But I have waited so fuckin’ long for you to finally become mine. Only mine,

So love me now, before I fuckin lose it and destroy both you and myself.”

[beckyninja]

Revelation

Pairing: Lt. Demetrian Titus x FemReader

Warnings: descriptions of torture

Description: Our favorite Ultramarine Captain Lieutenant realizes his personal serf means far more to him than he thought. And all it took was his subconscious concocting a truly horrific scenario.

Alright guys, you seemed to like my fluff. Now I thought I'd try my hand at some angst. As always, please forgive any non-canonical details. And thanks to @solspina who's Dante dream fic heavily inspired this.

Pain.

Demetrian Titus knew this feeling. In his long life as an Astartes, he’d experienced more kinds of pain than most Imperial citizens dreamed of in their worst nightmares. Stab wounds, shattered bones, burns, bites. He’d endured them all, healed, and moved on.

Not this time, though. This pain… lingered. It welled and pulsed within his very nerves, bypassing all attempts by his enhanced body to neutralize it. It stemmed from the chains bolted to his wrists and ankles, from the hundreds of injection sites scattered across his skin.

And from the mind of one Inquisitor.

“Ah, awake again, I see.”

The deceptively calm voice echoed inside his skull. A face came into view, seeming to float in the endless void.

It smiled.

Once, he would have lunged at that smug face. He would have strained against the shackles that bound him, warrior’s instincts screaming at him. Fight back! Kill!

No longer. That time had passed. Days? Months? Years ago, perhaps. Now he simply stared. He would not speak. He could not give the answers this madman desired, and he would not dishonor himself by lying. 

His silence was the only resistance he could give.

Normally, this infuriated his tormentor. He would rant and rail, promising new and varied forms of agony. 

“There is heresy within you, traitor. And I will dig it out, if I have to do so from your broken corpse!”

The Inquisitor often promised death, either as punishment… or reward. At times, Titus welcomed the idea. Then thoughts of the shame such a ignoble death would bring his Chapter filled him and he silently vowed to live another day. 

Eternal service. The vow of an Astartes. The vow of an Ultramarine. It did not matter the circumstances. He would endure. He would-

“I have something new planned for you this time, Titus.”

A sickly light illuminated his surroundings. It slowly revealed a figure crouched at the Inquisitor’s feet. After years of silence, a word fell from Titus’s torn lips.

“No…”

You. It was you. How? Titus’s mind whirled, trying to piece together a timeline that suddenly made no sense. You couldn’t be here. He hadn’t even met you yet! A deception. It had to be.

Then the Inquisitor reached down and yanked your head back. The hood of your serf’s robe fell and Titus looked into your eyes. Those beautiful eyes that had looked at him with hope and adoration. Now full of terror.

He jerked against his bonds without thinking, trying to reach you, trying to shield you from what was to come.

The Inquisitor laughed. “Such a reaction! And here I thought Astartes were above such mortal frailties as affection,” his hand left your head and strayed lower, “and desire.”

You yelped as that hand groped your flesh. Blind fury filled Titus and he lunged once again. 

“Do not touch her!”

“Or you will do what, exactly?” The Inquisitor gripped your chin and forced it up. “Look at him, girl. Look at your hero.” Another cruel laugh. “So strong and noble. And now all he can do is watch as I do this… and this…”

Your cries brought a pain greater than all the Inquisition’s tortures combined. Your eyes fixed on him, begging him to save you. He thrashed against his chains harder than ever before.

They only grew tighter.

The Inquisitor’s laughter rose to a shriek. “You swore to protect her, Titus! You swore to never let her come to harm again!”

He drew back his hand and struck you across the face. Again. And again. Titus watched welts and bruises bloom across your skin. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed. 

“This is your fault, Titus.” The Inquisitor grinned.

My fault. 

He had taken you for his own. Your companionship, in a galaxy that had abandoned him, soothed the ache in his soul. 

Now you suffered the consequences of his selfishness. 

For the first time in his life, the proud Ultramarine begged. “Stop, please!”

The Inquisitor threw you to the ground and brought his booted foot down on your arm with a sickening crack! You screamed.

Titus felt something break within him as well. “I WILL CONFESS!”

Silence. Darkness. He found himself alone in the void. He could no longer see you or the Inquisitor. For an eternity he hung there, waiting for something… anything.

Then, a voice whispered in his ear. “She means so much to you, doesn’t she?”

The sound of a blade splitting flesh. The overwhelming scent of blood. 

***

Titus’s eyes snapped open. All three of his lungs expanded as he gasped for breath. He lay on his cot, in his quarters, surrounded by the soft glow of candles. The omnipresent hum of the ship buzzed in his ears. 

His torment at the hands of the Inquisitor had ended over a century ago. You were not there. You had never been there. 

Why, then, did he still smell your blood?

At that moment, a soft beep came from the door as it slid open. You stepped inside, a bucket of cleaning supplies perched upon your hip. You glanced at him with a smile.

The scent of blood grew stronger.

In the blink of an eye he knelt before you, hands grasping your shoulders. “Where are you wounded?” 

“My Lord?” You gasped, the cleaning supplies clattering to the floor.

He noticed the reddish marks on your sleeves and growled, low and predatory. “Who hurt you?”

He’d find them and tear them limb from limb.

“No one, my Lord. I am not hurt.”

“Do not lie to me!”

You flinched. He winced, removing his hands.

“I am not injured.” You repeated. “The medicae are short-staffed at the moment and I offered to assist with the wounded in the infirmary. I know I should have asked your permission, but I didn’t think you’d disapprove. I’m sorry, my Lord.”

“I… I do not disapprove.” Titus closed his eyes and tried to regulate the adrenaline pumping through his veins. “There is no need for you to apologize.”

You were silent for a moment.

“You had another nightmare.”

“Yes.”

“It involved… me?”

“Yes. You were… injured. I could not… I tried to…”

Emotions ran riot through him. Some he could name: anger, guilt. Others were entirely foreign. He felt unmoored, severed from the comforting order of practical and theoretical.

“Perhaps I am indeed corrupted in some way.” He muttered, almost to himself. “Perhaps I deserve to suffer.”

“No!”

Something soft pressed against his face. He opened his eyes to find your hands cupping his cheeks. 

“Forgive me, but I hate it when you say such things.” Your beautiful eyes burned with conviction. “You saved me when no one else would. You are honorable and courageous and deserving of whatever happiness can be found in this life. You, Demetrian Titus, are a good man.” You hesitated then, your voice dropped to a whisper only an Astartes’ ears could have heard. “Emperor forgive me, I love you for it.”

Your words. Your touch. The strange emotions stirred up by his subconscious. All these things ignited in his mind… and Lieutenant Demetrian Titus of the Ultramarines experienced a revelation.

He covered your mouth with his own.

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@bispecsual @lemon-russ @kit-williams @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus

@justeverythingnothingelse @scriberye @bleedingichorhearts @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @mooniequeen

@passionofthesith

I hope I tagged everyone who asked!

[atlabeth]

come on back to me - nikolai lantsov

summary: five times you save nikolai and one time he saves you.

a/n: if you've seen my thoughts as i read through siege and storm and ruin and rising then you know that i am deeply in love with nikolai lantsov and since ive finally finished the trilogy i finally feel qualified to write about him lmao. i actually don’t think i’ve written a 5+1 which is crazy so here you go. i wrote this in like 2 days in a spurt of inspiration and im absolutely in love with it, so i hope you all are too!!

title from you’re the one by greta van fleet

wc: 7.3k

warning(s): fem!reader, canon typical violence, siege and storm & ruin and rising book spoilers (i have not watched the show), medical inaccuracies, nikolai's volcra era, hurt/comfort and a happy ending (as usual)

Os Alta

It all happened rather quickly. 

One moment, you were in the infirmary mending a poor soldier’s broken arm. The next, screams were erupting everywhere. 

You and the soldier locked eyes, and you did a final bit of healing on his arm before you nodded at each other and darted off. 

The soldier grabbed his gun and went further into the palace, no doubt to find the royal family, and you adjusted the collar of your kefta before you ran out into the fray. 

Nichevo’ya had surrounded everything, attacking anyone they could find, and their shadowy bodies were like a void’s blight on the land. You knew the sight would be forever burned into your mind.

You knew the Darkling was going to march on Os Alta, that he would have to do it directly to use his shadow soldiers, but this was so much earlier, so much worse than you’d expected. Enforcements were meant to come from Poliznaya. You guessed that was off the table. 

You were fine at fighting—alright with a pistol and better with a dagger—but you were a Healer. You spent more time dealing with the aftermaths of battles, more skilled at setting broken bones and mending bullet wounds than inflicting them. 

Times like these were the ones when you normally questioned your decision to not hone your abilities into a Heartrender, but now you would at least be a dead man either way. Nichevo’ya didn’t exactly have hearts to stop and organs to manipulate. 

You had to get to the other Grisha. You had to make sure the Sun Summoner made it through this attack, even if it meant you wouldn’t. 

You broke into a sprint, trying your best to ignore the crippled and broken bodies in the carnage. Your instincts tugged against you, but you knew there was nothing to be done. If you stopped to help a dead man, you would soon join them. 

You nearly battered into a group of people from your speed and lack of attention, and you reeled to the side seconds before a head-on collision. When you looked up, drawing in ragged breaths in the one second of rest you’d gotten, your eyes widened. 

You were face to face with the royal family. The King, the Queen, and Nikolai Lantsov. The absence was glaring. 

“Grisha,” Nikolai breathed, and he grabbed onto your shoulders like a madman as his fingers ran over the embroidery. He might as well have been one, the way wildfire flickered in his eyes. “You’re a Healer? One of Alina’s?”  

You nodded rapidly. “Are you—” 

“I’m getting them to safety on the Kingfisher,” he cut off, “and she wants me to get that old woman as well.”

“Baghra—?”

“You’re a Healer?” the King interrupted harshly. Your heart stuttered—you’d never been directly addressed by the King, but you supposed circumstances like these called for different standards. 

“Yes,” you nodded. “Are you hurt?” 

“My wife,” he said, and your attention turned to the Queen. Genya’s absence had taken a toll on her, and the shards of glass sticking out of her side weren’t doing her pallid frame any favors. 

“Madraya,” Nikolai whispered, his eyes wide, “I didn’t even notice.” 

“Alexander—” her voice was ragged, her entire appearance pallid— “we’ve much bigger concerns.” 

“Nonsense.” The King’s gaze bore into you. “We have time. Heal her.” 

You screwed your eyes shut, your hands closing into fists for a moment before both opened and you nodded. “Keep an eye out, moi tsarevich,” you huffed, and you moved to the Queen’s side. Nikolai’s head perked up for a moment at your words, but it disappeared just as quickly as he adjusted his grip on his pistol. 

“Of course,” he said wryly. “Not that I don’t trust your work, and not that I don’t trust my abilities, but it would be grand if you could do this quickly.” 

“Working as fast as I can,” you muttered, ignoring the noises the Queen made as you pulled the shards of glass out with little care. Your mentors would be rolling in their graves if they could see you. 

“Vasily is dead, by the way,” Nikolai said, attention focused on the nichevo’ya all around. Thankfully, you’d run into each other in a spot relatively hidden from view. Hopefully it extended to shadow creatures. “I know you were wondering.” 

Your hands faltered for a moment, but it was hardly noticeable as you continued to work. He wasn’t wrong. “I’m so sorry.” 

The Queen choked back a sob, and the King’s face betrayed the slightest bit of emotion. 

“An awful way to go,” Nikolai muttered, more to himself than anything. “But fitting that he brought about his own end.” 

His parents said nothing to your surprise, but you stood up from your knees and nodded at the King and Queen. “She’s healed enough. No internal bleeding, at least.” 

“Healed enough?” the King repeated. “That is not—” 

“It’s the best we can hope for,” Nikolai interrupted sharply. “We’ve already wasted too much time out here.” 

He then nodded, grasping your hands with fierce desperation. “The crown thanks you, darling.” You’d never seen him like this—you’d never seen him fear anything. The Darkling and his creations were a good start. “I thank you, truly.” 

“Just doing my duty,” you assured, and you pulled a small container out of the pocket of your kefta, leftover from your work in the infirmary before it all went to hell, and pressed it into his hand. “She should be alright, but I’ve been slightly rushed. Rub this salve on her wounds when you’re out of danger just to be sure.” 

Nikolai nodded again, slipping it into his own pocket. “Keep our Sun Summoner safe,” he said. “Or else this’ll have all been for nothing.” 

You nodded. “With my life.” 

Nikolai’s eyes met yours, and something unsaid passed between you. Then his hands slipped off of yours, and he continued to herd his parents away from the chaos. You muttered a quick prayer to any Saints that would listen for their safety, and then you head off on your own way. 

2. The Pelican 

You thought either the bones in your hands or the wood was going to crack with how tight you were holding onto the side of the ship. Your heart was still hammering away in your chest—the adrenaline from the battle and Nikolai Lantsov’s sudden appearance and being shot at a thousand different times by a thousand different militiamen still had you quite shaken. 

You knew the sort of chaos you were in for when you made the decision to travel with Alina Starkov rather than stay in the White Cathedral, but you think you hated being in the air like this even more than you hated being trapped underground with those zealots. 

Someone called your name, and you turned to see Adrik a while away with wide eyes. You huffed a sigh as you reluctantly let go and hastened your pace to catch up with him. If he was sent to fetch you, then someone needed healing, and you couldn’t exactly hold off on the one thing you were good at. 

Adrik led you over to a corner of the Pelican where a large portion of your group of Grisha were gathered. Tamar was kneeling next to whoever was injured, one hand splayed above their chest, and you took a deep breath as you forced calmness to wash over your mind. 

“What are we dealing with?” you asked Tamar, but it was clear enough when he spoke up. 

“I’m telling you, it’s fine,” he insisted. “Just a flesh wound.” 

“He was shot,” Tamar said dryly, “and he refuses to accept its severity.” 

“So we meet again,” you said placidly. 

Nikolai seemed to perk up when he saw you, any prior frustration absent from his face as he grinned at you and said your name. “If you’re the Healer here, then I guess I’m not so fine.” 

“Am I ever going to be around you when you’re doing important princely things,” you said as you crouched on the other side of him, Tamar continuing to keep his heart rate steady, “or only when you’re injured?” 

“This is a very important princely thing,” Nikolai said. “I’m showing my soon to be subjects that I’m just like them.” 

“You were shot and you thought you were fine?” You let out a loose sigh and shook your head—it wasn’t worth getting into it. “Keep it steady, Tamar.” 

She nodded, and you reached out to begin unbuttoning his outer coat. He wouldn’t stop shifting around, and it made it infinitely harder. 

“Will you sit still?” you snapped. 

“I am,” Nikolai said. 

“You are not,” you asserted, and you undid the final button on his coat after a struggle, “and you are making this much more difficult.” 

“My apologies,” he said. “Usually women that are taking off my clothes aren’t this angry with me.” 

You scowled, only making his smile grow. 

“You do it yourself if you want to be like that,” you said, letting your hands fall back to your side. “I’m sure the rest of your soldiers will listen to a Healer.” 

“Ah, but none of them bravely threw themselves into danger for you,” Nikolai remarked. “I’m sure that earns me a few points.” 

“Points that you’ve immediately lost by being this difficult with me.” You crossed your arms. “And you did not throw yourself into danger for me—you were in the battle and you got shot.” 

“We came to save you all, and you are a part of it,” Nikolai said. “I’d say I definitely threw myself into danger for you.” 

“You’re impossible.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Will you not even allow a dying man some honor?”

“You are not dying,” you said, “but you will be if you continue talking. Now take off your clothes and stop being so difficult so I can fix this up before you do die.” 

He tutted as he shed his jacket and worked on the rest of his clothing. Princes were apparently fond of multiple layers. “For a Healer, your bedside manner is remarkably poor.”

“Don’t worry,” Nadia piped in, “she’s always been like this.” 

“I have very fond memories of you healing my broken ribs,” Alina said dryly. 

“All of you are still alive,” you said tartly with a glance back at your fellow Grisha, “aren’t you?” 

“I think you made me wish I wasn’t,” Harshaw mused. 

You scowled again and Nikolai laughed. “That bodes very well for me, considering how much I seem to irritate you.” 

“You’re going to be fine,” you grumbled. When you turned back to him, he’d gotten down to his undershirt and unbuttoned it. Blood had spread across the white fabric, but apart from being shot, the wound wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. It’d had the chance to fester for a bit, but with Tamar’s aid it hopefully wouldn’t be a problem.  

You took a deep breath as you placed your hands on his chest—lucky as always, you could sense the bullet missed all his major organs—but Nikolai grimaced before you could even do anything. 

“Are you alright?”

“Your hands are very cold,” he said and you just shook your head. 

“How no one has wrung you by the neck is beyond me.” 

“Many have tried.” He flashed that smile again. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t add your name to the list.” 

You ignored him, taking another deep breath before you closed your eyes. You felt your power within you, the tug you’d grown accustomed to over the years, and you focused it into a single point. 

You slowly worked on healing Nikolai, making sure you went from the inside out to stop any internal bleeding before you carefully wedged the bullet out with your knife. Surprisingly, he managed to keep his mouth shut for the most part. He watched you the entire time though, wholly unyielding, and it was unnerving. 

Nikolai covered up his pain remarkably well, but you still caught the slightest grimace when you practically stuck a dagger inside him.

“Do you always try to injure your patients more when you’re healing them?” he asked innocently. 

“You typically don’t make fun of the person fixing you up,” you said, and you held up the knife, “or the one holding the blade.”

“Surely you could’ve used David to get it out,” Zoya offered lazily. “Better than practically stabbing the King of Ravka.”

“I’m not the king,” Nikolai said. “Not yet, at least.” 

“And I’m not stabbing him.” You held up the bullet with your other hand, then let it fall to the floor. “I just didn’t feel like digging around inside him.” 

Nikolai picked up the bullet, and you frowned in question. He just shrugged. “To hold onto the fond memories of this battle and the kindest, prettiest Healer I’ve ever laid eyes on.” 

Someone snickered behind you, and you turned to see all of them just standing around—Zoya, Harshaw with Oncat perched on his shoulder, Adrik ignoring his sister to watch, even Alina and Mal were still there. At least Tamar had enough sense to stay quiet while she helped you. 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you snapped. “It’s hard to focus with you all watching me.”

Alina blinked, seeming to come back to her senses. You almost didn’t blame her—she had so much on her shoulders, it made sense to just want to stand and stare for a minute.

“Right,” she nodded, and she gestured at Zoya and the Squaller siblings as she started walking across the ship, “Adrik, Nadia, I need you all over…”

Alina's words trailed off as she got farther away, and the small crowd dissipated to find duties to carry out without their Sun Summoner to indulge their whims. 

“Thank you for your help, Tamar,” you mumbled. “I can take it from here.” 

She nodded and went off to join the others—the controlled state Nikolai had been in dissolved as she let go of the hold she had on his heart, and the slight daze in his eye went away. 

“Are you always this mean?” Nikolai asked. You turned back to find him with that same unshakable confidence, same lazy smile even in the face of it all. It was no wonder noble and commoner girls alike tripped over themselves when he returned to Ravka. 

It was no wonder Alina fell for his charms despite the tracker by her side—he always knew the right thing to say to make you feel like everything would be okay, and in the midst of Ravka’s endless war, that was a valuable quality indeed.

“I save it for irritating princes,” you remarked. With a final flourish, his wound was sewed up, and Nikolai raised his eyebrows as he touched the newly healed skin.

There was another slight wince, but he still smiled up at you. “Excellent job.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you said.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to Grisha handiwork,” Nikolai said as he pulled himself up from the side of the ship. “Especially the healing kind.”

“It would do you good not to get used to it,” you said. “You may not be king yet, but Zoya is right. I’d appreciate it if you tried to stay out of my infirmary.”

“Do you not enjoy my company?” he asked. 

“I don’t enjoy bringing Ravka’s only heir back from the brink after every battle,” you corrected. “You’ve got a lot more weight on your shoulders now, moi tsarevich.”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly at your Ravkan. “Say that again.”

You frowned, wondering if you’d heard him correctly. Nikolai continued staring at you, so you sighed. “Moi tsarevich?”

He laughed, and that only soured your mood further. “What are you laughing about?” 

“I recognized it back during the attack but I didn’t fully think about it,” he said. “It comes out the most with your R’s. You’re not Ravkan, are you?”

You paused at his sudden subject change. “You were focusing on my accent when everyone was dying around us?” 

“Answer the question.” 

Your frown deepened. “I am in most senses of the word.”

Nikolai’s eyes narrowed. “You’re Kerch.”

Your lips twitched. “Yes, but I don’t—”

“You still haven’t lost the accent somehow,” he continued. “At least, in how you speak certain Ravkan words. Is it Ketterdam?”

“Don’t you have better things to do than quiz your Healer on her childhood?”

“Perhaps,” Nikolai said, eyes twinkling, “but if you’re really my Healer, as you said yourself, I’m surely allowed to ask as many questions as my heart desires.”

“Your heart desires no more,” you said wryly. “I have other injured to attend to. Call if you find yourself actively dying.”

To his credit, he didn’t try to fight it. Just offered that same smile that weakened knees from the Kaelish to the Shu. “I’ll be sure to ring before I’m dead and buried.”

“Put your clothes back on before you do,” you said.

“Ah, but isn’t this your reward for putting up with the irritating prince?” Nikolai asked with a slight gesture at his chest. “I’d imagine you’d want to keep an eye on your handiwork.”

That sparked a rare smile of your own, and you bowed your head. “Moi tsarevich,” you said before you walked off.

You felt Nikolai’s eyes on you even as you approached an injured First Army soldier, and after the first few preliminary questions you couldn’t help but look back. 

When you did, he was gone. 

3. Monastery of Sankt Demyan

You sat on the Spinning Wheel, off to the corner so you wouldn’t be disturbing anyone, staring at your hands as you tried to ignore the thousands of things bumping around in your mind. You’d been on the run with the Sun Summoner and a smattering of other Grisha for longer than you would have liked, but you had to accept that this was what life would be like until the Darkling was either defeated or destroyed you all. 

It was a damning sort of fate, knowing what awaited you unless the impossible was done. At least it would be quick if the nichevo’ya tore you apart. 

You grimaced. That was one thought that would do you no good—if you’d made it this far, from Os Alta under the Darkling’s control to Os Alta under Lantsov control to the White Cathedral and now to Fjerda of all places, what was one more piece of the puzzle? 

A very big piece of the puzzle, of course, and there was still the intrinsic distrust that some soldiers—and even Alina at moments, flickers of it you could see in her eyes against her will—had towards you. You, like the rest of the Grisha here that hailed from the Second Army, served the Darkling until you’d switched sides. You wanted nothing more than to see the Darkling to his grave, for Ravka to be restored and for all of this to be over. 

But you had switched sides in the first place, and you knew enough from the looks of those soldiers—they still believed that if you could betray the Darkling, you could always still betray the Sun Summoner if given enough cause. 

You didn’t try to dissuade their views through words; it wouldn’t do any good. You just hoped the long hours you spent holed up in the infirmary healing the injured would. You missed Maxim if only so you wouldn’t have to do it all alone. 

“Vlachka for your thoughts?” 

You looked up, surprised to see Nikolai Lantsov of all people. You hadn’t held a true conversation with him since you healed him after his bullet wound. He’d been busy with princely things like banishing his parents and saving Genya’s livelihood. 

You were thankful for that, at least. She’d suffered too much at the hands of the Darkling and the King. 

“You’d need a lot more than that,” you said. 

He smiled. “I’ve got quite a bit. Have you seen this place?” 

You chuckled and shrugged. “Just thinking. About our next move, about the Darkling, about what will be after this.” 

“You certainly aren’t the only one,” Nikolai said. “Lately it seems to be all anyone can think about.”

“I’m sure you’d much rather have them thinking of you,” you said wryly. 

“Oh, there’s plenty of that going on as well.” Nikolai smiled. “An even balance, I’d say.”

You chuckled again. “What brings you here, Nikolai?” 

He shrugged. “I wanted to get to know my Healer.” 

You huffed a sigh and looked away. “Why do you call me that?” 

He was awfully good at feigning innocence. “Call you what?” 

“My Healer,” you repeated. “Your Healer. I don’t understand it.” 

“I like the sound of it,” he said. “I’ll stop if you don’t like it.” 

You felt your cheeks heat and you felt his eyes on you. “It’s not that. It’s just—” 

“Because I can,” he continued. “Would you prefer lapushka? Milaya? Perhaps babya.”

You scowled as you turned back to him, and you hit him lightly on the shoulder. “You should stick to the seas and the throne, moi tsarevich. Comedy is not your strong suit.” 

“I like it when you call me that,” he mused. “I like your accent, your voice.” He sat down next to you, mildly unexpected, and you hoped you did better at hiding your surprise than it felt. “There’s something soothing about it.” 

“I am from Ketterdam,” you said after a moment. “You guessed right. Born and raised. When my abilities started showing, my parents put me on a ship to Ravka with a map, some vlachki, and the clothes on my back. I made my way to the Little Palace, pleaded my case to the Darkling, and I haven’t seen them since.”

Nikolai was silent, and you fully turned to look at him. “You wanted to know more about me. That’s who I am. A girl from Ketterdam in over her head.”

“Give yourself some credit,” Nikolai said. “You’re a woman from Ketterdam in over your head.” 

You huffed a laugh, and Nikolai’s expression softened a bit. “Why did they send you away? If that’s alright to ask, of course.” 

You shrugged. “Being a young girl in the Barrel is bad enough. If anyone figured out I was Grisha, I would either be dead in the streets, indentured before I could blink, or worse.”  

“They thought it would be safer in Ravka,” he guessed. “In the Second Army.” 

You nodded. “They couldn’t have known any of this would happen,” you said dryly. 

“Do you miss your parents?” he asked. 

“Every day,” you said quietly. “We sent letters when we could, but it was never enough. And those stopped after Alina left the Little Palace, obviously.” 

You didn’t need to recount the months of the Darkling’s madness as he searched for his Sun Summoner. Nikolai might have been Sturmhond at the time, but you didn’t doubt that he had contacts in the Little Palace. You didn’t exactly want to remember it either. 

“How about this?” Nikolai adjusted his position so he could look right at you, those smart hazel eyes enough to get lost in. You forced yourself not to. “On the slim chance that we make it through these next few weeks, when the dust has settled and I’m officially King, I’ll charter a ship for you back to Ketterdam.” 

Your head whirled back to look at him, eyes widening. There was no sign in his eyes of a false promise, only that soft smile, charming as ever. You had the sudden, misplaced urge to wind your fingers into those blonde curls and kiss him. 

“You’d do that for me?” 

He nodded. “Of course. Only the best for my Healer, right?” 

That got a laugh out of you, but the heat rose to your cheeks all the same. “That would be incredible, Nikolai. Thank you.” 

“Of course.” 

He looked—gazed— at you for a touch longer than usual before he spoke again. 

“There’s going to be a meteor shower later tonight,” Nikolai said. “One of my crew figured it out—he’s very fond of the sky, and he told me it would be… quite the sight.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. Was he—

“I’d like to watch it with you,” Nikolai continued. “Of course, I have to put on a display with Alina, but after that,” he looked over at you, hazel eyes gleaming, “I’d like to spend the night with you.” 

It took a moment for your brain to fully process his words. “Moi tsarevich, are… you asking me on a— a date?” 

“Just Nikolai, please,” he said with a grin. “And yes, I am.” 

It seemed so trivial in the scheme of things. You were leading an impossible battle against the Darkling, and as a traitor to his throne, you would end up dead or worse if he caught you. The near entirety of the Second Army was dead, friends you’d grown up and honed your power alongside with ripped apart by nichevo’ya. Your chances for victory relied on the firebird, and no one knew a damn thing about it. 

It was trivial. It was frankly ridiculous, for the prince— the King of Ravka—to be asking you on a date, especially when it was imperative for him to present a certain image with Alina. 

But for all the triviality and ridiculousness and idiocy, you found that you’d never wanted to accept something so badly. 

So you did. You nodded, smiled, brighter than usual. Nikolai seemed to have that effect on you. 

“I’d love to.” 

“Wonderful.” Somehow, impossibly, his grin grew bigger. Nikolai took your hand and pressed a delicate kiss to it before he stood back up—you’d never been so thankful for his confidence, because you found yourself at a loss for words. “I’ll see you tonight, darling. Try not to get into too much trouble without me.” 

You nodded again, and you knew you looked like a dazed idiot. The better half of a decade spent training as a Grisha and all it took was a kiss to your hand for your brain to stop working. You really had been at war for far too long. 

Nikolai could tell every thought—or lack thereof—in your head by the overly pleased expression he wore as he walked away, and your entire face burned as you bit back your smile. 

He knew exactly what he did to you. 

4. The Bittern 

Sergei sold you out. 

That son of bitch had betrayed you all to the Darkling the first chance he got, and he’d been rewarded with a quicker death than any of you would get. 

You’d been left fighting for your lives against the Darkling’s oprichniki, Grisha, and nichevo’ya alike, and as usual, you were hopelessly outnumbered. You knelt over Adrik as Zoya, Nadia, Harshaw, and David kept the crowd of enemies back, doing your damnedest to keep him from bleeding out from his nichevo’ya bite. 

His arm hung at a bizarre angle, and you didn’t know how you would tell him and his sister you didn’t think you could save it. You were sure Genya’s whispered words were the only thing keeping him even slightly calm.

By the time the Bittern was in the air, precarious but afloat, you were about ready to collapse. It had all been too damn much, with the Darkling and Baghra and Nevsky, and now the poor schoolboy lying beneath you with an arm you couldn’t save. 

“He’ll be okay,” you murmured to nobody but yourself, wiping beads of sweat from your forehead as you laid against the side of the ship. As okay as any boy who lost his arm to a shadow monster and went through what he just did. 

Thank the Saints for Tolya keeping both Adrik’s and your heart steady during that ordeal, because you were sure your panic would have won over. 

Everyone in your motley crew was injured in some way or another, and you were the only Healer. Soon you were back on your feet, pushing the horrors of the night out of your mind as you mended lacerations and fixed up bullet wounds. 

Every so often, your eyes would drift over to Adrik. You’d healed him the best you could, but it wasn’t enough. 

And then your mind went to Nikolai. 

Nikolai. 

In the chaos of the battle and the subsequent healing haze, you hadn’t even realized he wasn’t with your group. The Pelican had taken off before you all got to the Bittern, but Nikolai wouldn’t have left Alina on her own after all he’d done to ensure her safety. 

You were almost too scared to ask, but you did anyway. 

“Alina,” you asked, slightly surprised at the sound of your voice in the silence of the night, “where’s Nikolai?” 

Her eyes were unfocused, arms crossed around her midsection for warmth despite the light that glowed beneath her skin. “The Darkling,” she murmured. 

“Wh— what did he do to him?” you continued. “What in the Saints’ name happened to him, Alina?” 

“He ruined him,” she whispered. “He turned him into a monster.” The look on Alina’s face broke you into even smaller pieces. “He turned him into a monster all because Nikolai dared to stand against him. He’s gone.” 

Your grip tightened on the side of the ship as she explained what she had to watch, and your knees threatened to buckle. 

Maybe it was stupid, but you hadn’t even realized you cared this much about the prince. The king, you had to keep reminding yourself. But the thought of him hurt—a hurt that you couldn’t heal—it tore your heart to shreds. 

Only last night you were laying on a blanket next to him, staring up at the meteor shower through the glass dome. He’d never looked more beautiful than he did then, with the streaks of light illuminating his handsome features and those hazel eyes you’d grown to appreciate. 

Few words had passed between the two of you, but once Nikolai had taken your hand in his, neither of you let go for the remainder of the night. That urge to kiss him came back in spades, but you never acted on it. 

Saints, you wished you had. 

“Do you think you can heal him?” Your voice sounded oddly foreign, but you didn’t even feel like you were in your body. Like you were watching it all happen from above, because this couldn’t have been happening. Not to Nikolai— to your Nikolai. 

You were his Healer, and he was your Nikolai. That was how it was supposed to be. 

“I don’t know,” Alina admitted, her tone strained. “My light might be able to help, but… but whenever I’ve used it against the nichevo’ya, against the volcra, I— it kills them.” 

Her voice broke on the last few words, and you wanted to hug her. Alina didn’t love him, you knew that much, but anyone could tell she’d grown close to Nikolai over the months. She was hurting just as much as you. 

You didn’t. You found that you couldn’t do much but stare into the night sky.

He was all alone. Forced into a monster, and now he was all alone. 

It felt like ages before the Bittern finally landed, everyone’s teeth stained rust-orange and bones run deep with exhaustion. Everyone was still alive when you woke up the next morning, and after another check-up on Adrik, you went off into the woods under the guise of searching for kindling. 

Really, you needed some time to yourself. After what had happened—Sergei’s betrayal, losing even more Grisha when you had little to start with, Baghra’s sacrifice, Adrik and his arm, and— and Nikolai—

It was too much. It was just too damn much. 

You’d never gotten close like this to anyone before, never moved further than some useless flirtations and a few stolen kisses with various Grisha when you were bored back at the Little Palace, and when you finally did, with the damned future King of Ravka, this is what happened. 

Guilt tore away at you as you plodded through the woods, and you let the tears you’d been holding back all night fall. You wished you’d been there for him. You wished you’d kissed him. You wished you were strong enough to take the Darkling down on your own for what he’d done. 

The hairs stood up on the back of your neck, and you heard the rustling of branches. You whirled around to the source of the sound, taking a few steps to peer through the trees, and that was when you saw it. 

Your eyes widened and your heart cracked all at once. 

“Nikolai,” you whispered. 

You’d have recognized him anywhere. Despite the shadowy veins splintering across his chest, the wings furled behind his back, claws and fangs in place of fingers and teeth—he was still your Nikolai. His blonde curls remained, his sharp cheekbones and strong jaw, even his clever eyes—even if they were black instead of hazel. 

The smear of blood around his mouth was a sharp contrast to it all. You wondered what—or who—had become his unlucky victim when he could no longer control his hunger. 

Nikolai didn’t move as you stepped closer. His dark gaze was unreadable and you wanted to sob for what the Darkling had done to him. 

“It’s me.” You continued to speak softly as you moved closer, saying your name in hopes of even a spark of recognition. “Your Healer.” 

His eyes followed your movements, his gaze falling down to your hands. He pointed at them with a clawed talon.

You held them up. “My hands?” 

You realized the blood around his mouth wasn’t the only bit of it on his body as your eyes trailed across his bare chest. There were cuts all across his arms and chest, most small but some deeper. He pointed at a thin scar near his abdomen, the only sign of the bullet wound you’d stitched up. 

He wanted you to heal him. He knew who you were. 

This time, a small sob escaped you, and your hand flew up almost on instinct to cover it. You brushed the tears brimming in your eyes as you moved closer to him, and you gently placed your hand on his arm. You felt his limb stiffen for a moment before they relaxed, and you couldn’t help your small smile. Your Nikolai was still there. 

The thin cut vanished as you healed it, and you continued to do the same for the myriad of other injuries on his body. You felt his gaze on you the entire time, and some part of it was comforting. Nikolai was still there—his humanity was still there. This was the least you could do to make him feel the part. 

Once you’d healed up the last of his wounds, you felt the glow of Grisha power inside of you. Nikolai grabbed onto your hand the moment you’d finished, and you looked up into his dark eyes as your fingers clasped around his talons.

“We’ll figure this out, Nikolai,” you whispered. “I promise.”

The corner of his lips curled up ever so slightly, the barest sign of the old smile you’d grown to love.

And then he let go of your hand, and he shot up into the air. It took only seconds for him to disappear, but your gaze remained stuck in place. 

All you could think of was Nikolai’s dark eyes and the shattered shadows beneath his skin, the feel of his taloned hand in yours.  

You would find a way to bring him back. You knew that much. 

5. The Shadow Fold 

“For Saint’s sake— catch him, Zoya!” 

“You screeching at me isn’t helping,” she snarled, her hands held out above her as she summoned wind to break Nikolai’s fall. 

It was almost laughable, how Alina ended it all with a bit of stabbing. First Mal, then the Darkling—now Soldat Sol and oprichniki alike were glowing like human lamps around the Fold. The nichevo’ya dissolved with the Darkling’s power, the same thing that created Nikolai’s monster—you screamed in general when you first saw him falling, and then you screamed at Zoya. It was a credit to her growth that she didn’t slap you first. 

Thankfully, the updraft did its job, and he only landed in the sand at concerning speeds rather than very concerning. 

You ran for him without thinking, not even feeling the jolt in your ankles as you lept from the skiff onto the sands. You no longer had to fear the Fold—the various Sun Soldiers that had gotten Alina’s powers had done away with the remainder in no time—and even if you did, you would brave a thousand volcra for Nikolai. 

He looked so small, so vulnerable laying there in the sand, only clad in torn pants and a myriad of bruises. The last of the shadows receded when you finally reached him, and you didn’t try to stop the tears as they flowed freely down your cheeks. 

“Nikolai,” you whispered, falling to your knees in the sand next to him, “Nikolai, can you hear me?” 

You cradled his head in your hands, tears splattering in the sand around you, and then his eyes opened. 

His beautiful hazel eyes opened and looked right at you, his lips tugging into a smirk as he said your name. 

“Would you say this is an important princely thing?” His voice was husky, damaged from whatever dark thing that had taken a hold of him, but the usual lilt was there. “Or just another injury?” 

You broke into full on sobs, unabashedly and unashamed as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a hug. You felt his arms around you as well, and he rubbed circles on your back. 

“I had time to think,” Nikolai murmured, “and I think I’ll settle on lapushka.” 

Darling. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, and you moved away from him just so you could look at him, gaze at him, never forget his beautiful features. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

“I knew I would be,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I had you looking out for me.” 

“Stop,” you said, your voice watery. “I can’t keep crying in front of you.” 

“I think you’ve more than earned it, lapushka.” 

You laughed again as you shook your head. “How do you feel? Can you still move all your limbs?” 

Nikolai took his hand in yours, fingers intertwining with yours. His gaze didn’t move from you. “Limbs are fine.” 

You let your smile shine unabashed as you squeezed his hand, thankful for the lack of talons. “Can you sit up?” 

Nikolai visibly winced at the effort, but he managed with your help. “My chest hurts quite a bit.” 

“You’ve definitely broken some ribs,” you murmured, “but it’s nothing I can’t fix up.” 

“There’s nothing you can’t fix,” Nikolai said. 

“Careful with all the praise. I might get used to it.” 

“Good.” 

You glanced over to see Tolya and Zoya moving across the sand towards you and you looked back at Nikolai. 

“We’re going to get you back on the skiff, Nikolai,” you said. “I’ll get you healed up and then we’ll get you some clothes. Alright?” 

“I told you,” Nikolai said, “this is your reward for putting up with the irritating prince.” 

“That was for the prince,” you said, running a hand through his blonde curls to untangle them. “My reward for putting up with irritating kings is to make sure they’re clothed and healed.” 

His smile shone brighter than anything Alina could conjure up. 

The Darkling’s Skiff 

You ended up below deck with Nikolai, Tolya, an unconscious Alina and Mal, and the Darkling’s body. It normally wouldn’t have been a cheery atmosphere, but you were just thankful to be alive after all you’d done. Thankful that Nikolai was alive and himself and that the Darkling was dead. 

A First Army uniform was folded next to Nikolai’s makeshift cot where you sat next to him, and Tolya’s companionable silence was appreciated as he stayed by Alina and Mal to ensure they stayed alive. 

“You broke a few ribs in your fall,” you murmured, your hands placed on his chest, “but overall, I’d say you made out pretty well.” 

“Yes,” Nikolai said wryly, looking at his hands. Faint black lines ran across each of his fingers, where claws had torn through his skin. Though the other shadowy marks had faded, these appeared to be permanent. “Pretty well.” 

“You know what I mean, Nikolai.” You moved your hand over his ribs and focused your power—by the slight grimace on his face, the itch that came along with Grisha healing, you knew they were mending back together. “You’re still alive. You’re you again. That means everything.” 

“And your hands are still freakishly cold,” he mused. You smiled. 

A moment passed before he spoke again. 

“You know,” Nikolai said, and you felt his eyes on you again, “I remember everything. Everything that I did when I was that… that thing.” 

Your throat bobbed, but you nodded, encouraging him on. 

“I went to you,” he said, “and… you helped me. You weren’t afraid—you understood what I meant, and you healed me.” 

“Of course I did,” you said softly. A smile tugged at your lips. “I am your Healer, after all.” 

Nikolai placed his hand over one of yours, and your power wavered for a moment as your heart stuttered. 

“One of your ribs is still broken, Nikolai,” you said. “I have to—” 

“I love you,” he interrupted. Your eyes snapped to him, and you thought you misheard him. 

“What?” 

“I love you,” he repeated, as if it came as easily to him as breathing. “Forgive me for the lack of ballads and sonnets on how to express it—I plan to remedy that as soon as we’re back in Os Alta. But I love you, and it’s the one thing I’m sure of at this moment.” 

You continued to stare at him, as if you’d suddenly forgotten how to speak. Nikolai was no Corporalnik, but you were sure he could hear how loudly your heart was beating. 

“It’s alright if you don’t feel the same,” Nikolai said, “or if you’re not ready. I’m a very patient man.” 

It was like your limbs had suddenly regained the ability to move, because something clicked in your mind. You took his face in your hands and you kissed him with a brazen fierceness you didn’t even know you had. 

For a man with two bruised ribs and one broken one, he kissed you back with the same intensity, if not more. You poured all your fear, all your anxiety, all your worries about him into the kiss, reveling in the warmth of his lips and his hands and—

Tolya cleared his throat. “We’re nearly out of the Fold.” 

You pulled away as quickly as it had started, Nikolai looking very pleased with himself as you fixed the collar of your kefta and looked over at him with eyes that were surely more pupil than iris. 

“Thank you, Tolya,” you said, and you cleared your throat as well. Good of him to ignore the two of you. Embarrassing of you to nearly forget about your surroundings when you looked at Nikolai. 

“Yes,” Nikolai said, mirth in his voice, “thank you, Tolya.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned back to him, your lips still burning from his kiss, and you settled your hands back on Nikolai’s chest. 

“No more interruptions,” you said. “I’ve got to get you healed and dressed before we’re off the sand.” 

His eyes twinkled. “Whatever you say, lapushka.” 

You had no idea what was next. The Sun Summoner died on the Fold, the Darkling’s reign of terror was finally over, and Nikolai was to be King. You didn’t know where you would fit in, though you were sure he would find a place. 

But you loved Nikolai, and by the Saints, Nikolai loved you. 

And for now, that was more than enough. 

[alicerosejensen]

Find Me. Pt 2

Synopsis: In the cold light, you can see some old secrets of the old castle. Be a beautiful lady from the portraits while your knight is on his way to try to save you from the clutches of a madman.

Warning: Kidnapping, ancient architecture, mentioned that the reader does not have a father; two-person narrative (Leon v reader); angst; trauma; dark; blood; mention of vomiting; severed limbs; loss of consciousness; B.O.W.

A/N: after a long break, bursting in with a continuation. I hope for support and that at least someone will be pleased. I think I wrote all the warnings, of course, I'm not a master of writing all sorts of horror, but still, read at your own risk (see warning).

A small spoiler - In the next chapter, one very familiar character will appear, although he died in canon, but I send canon to hell.

Prologue, part 1

A strange voice echoed inside, sending small waves of trembling, forcing your palms to involuntarily clench into fists as if a weapon might appear in them. You tensed your whole body, looked up at the upper tier, where the stranger's voice was coming from. Taking a few steps back, carefully climbing several stairs, you hoped to see a face, but the upper floor was still a dark corner without a light source, no matter how hard you tried to strain your eyes.

"Come to me

And see true love"

It's hard to stay calm and unbiased when you find yourself in a strange place, but panic slowly took over your mind. You took a few more steps up, holding on to the railing, involuntarily bending your knees, but no one appeared. Your heart started pounding, your fingers dug into the wood, threatening to leave nail marks, as if a monster would come out of the dark corners and a pathetic railing would be the only way to somehow linger in this world.

"Excuse me" You spoke up after a long silence. For a couple of seconds, it even seemed to you that the male voice was just a figment of your frightened imagination, however…

Thunder boomed loudly, echoing in the castle walls, leaving behind an eerie echo from the rumble like the screams of restless, forgotten souls. You gasped loudly in surprise and a brief flash of bright light broke through the dark stained glass window, but it took a moment to see the silhouette and make sure that someone was upstairs.

He laughed too cheekily, almost mockingly at your fright. It was hard to tell if he was looking out the window somewhere or at you, but you tried to straighten your back as you continued on your way back, eventually clinging to a wide marble column and cautiously peeking out from behind it.

"It would be better if you didn't walk around the castle at such a late hour… It's very old, I wouldn't want the floor to collapse under your feet." Vaguely, the stranger's voice was familiar to you. Deep at the same time pleasant, but making the wound on your forehead throb unpleasantly with pain. A cool breeze hit you in the face, cheering you up a little, even though the uncertainty was making you shiver.

You winced at the unpleasant sensations, but you didn't look away even after a few more short loud flashes in the sky illuminating the dark hall.

"Go back to your room and we'll continue our acquaintance in the morning. There is no need to look for unnecessary problems when you have such potential hidden in you." The stranger turned away from the stained glass window after taking a couple of steps forward, and even though you were separated by pitiful meters, he did not have the opportunity to reach you. This already added a little courage to you, but it made the invisible gaze uneasy "I have big special plans for you"

“What?.." You asked perplexedly into the void, noticing how, without waiting for your answer, he simply walks out the door leaving you alone with a whole bunch of questions. "Hey, wait! Who are you…"

The slam of the heavy door made you flinch again, followed by another flash of lightning.

After waiting for some time, you anxiously looked around, hearing nothing for several seconds except the annoying clock. Nevertheless, I decided to go downstairs, staring at the bas-relief located on most of the wall.

"Hades kidnaps Persephone, taking her to the underworld, and next to the chariot in a team of four horses is the very flower whose fragrance the goddess of spring inhaled a moment before the arrival of Hades"

There is even some irony in this. It is noteworthy that the flower itself was somehow different, not that you paid much attention to it, but there was a feeling that it could be important.

At least there's time to look around and try to avoid meeting that mysterious man whose face you never saw. The lighting left much to be desired, but still involuntarily you looked at various paintings with landscapes, feeling like a tiny ant in this castle. You took one last look in the direction from which you came, considering that it would not be easy to find your way back and stretched out your hand to the west door turning the handle, feeling how it gave way, after which the damp air hit your face.

In any case, your priority was and is to find some means of communication.

Clearly no one here wants to answer your questions. After casting a final glance around the small hall, you stepped out the door with a strange feeling of being followed, although perhaps that was just your imagination, fueled by shadows, glare, and fear that made your palms sweat.

"You can't know that this is revenge!" Ingrith raised her voice for the umpteenth time. "Why would someone kidnap her and then never contact you?"

"I don't know!" Leon answered rudely, turning his back to her, grabbed the bag from the closet, threw it on the bed, involuntarily lingering his gaze on the gunshot wound on the wooden door.

The thought that you could be dead… Every night he drove them away. He jumped up to find a new lead, witnesses, at least something that could shed light on your disappearance, but apart from traces of your DNA and drops of blood from the syringe, nothing was found. Tears welled up in his eyes every time he thought about how you could have suffered. Because of him. Because of his work and how many enemies Leon had made for himself since becoming an agent.

"It was my mistake," he said quietly, pulling out your chiffon scarf instead of his things. The familiar scent was pleasant but subtle, making everything inside ache even more. Hannigan's eyes showed regret, but she had no words to console her. "No one else had a motive to hurt her. She was kind, so good and innocent. I thought I could save her from the evil that was happening in the world, but in the end… a cruel joke, because of me she suffered."

She lowered her head and fell silent.

"Half a year, Leon, you know perfectly well that the chance that she might be alive is very low. I would even say catastrophically low, that recording doesn't prove anything even if it's real."

"Maybe, but even if I have one chance in a thousand, I'll take it."

His fingers carefully and tenderly folded the scarf, leaving it lying on the shelf with the others. As if the owner of these clothes would return home at any moment. Hannigan didn't know for sure, but for some reason she was sure that Leon's deep affection did not allow him to get rid of your clothes, or books, or anything else. Moreover, she knew that if she went into the bathroom now, your toothbrush would probably be there.

Returning to their thoughts, they met eyes for just a moment before Leon continued to pack his things.

"I just want to say that the disappearance could be related to the family or some information that she accidentally learned."

"Her mother wouldn't hurt a fly, and what could she have learned that would cause her to be kidnapped? That the statue in the museum is not real?" Leon quipped, to which Ingrid rolled her eyes.

"And the father?" she carefully brought up the topic, and Leon turned around, looking at her questioningly. "I know we've already considered this option, but for some reason you point-blank reject the option that it could be related to the family and not to you."

"Because Fiona raised her alone." Leon picked up a framed photograph of you with your mother and dog, smiling happily, from the table, turning it so Hannigan could see. "You know those stories where a man gets scared of responsibility and runs away with his heels flashing. Fiona decided to keep the child despite all the difficulties. She is a good woman and does not deserve to be left without her only daughter."

Leon turned away again, continuing to pack. There is no point in taking a weapon with him; his mission is unofficial and unsupported by the government. There will be no support, so he cannot count on others, however, it seems to him that way it is even easier on the soul. At least a few innocent souls will linger on this world.

"Any mother wants to believe that her missing child will one day find his way home. Especially if this child was the meaning of life."

Leon knew it. Self-hatred clouded his mind every time the tears and pleas of the poor woman clutching his hands begging him to find and return her daughter appeared before his eyes again. A month after your disappearance, he finally found himself on the threshold of your former home, where your mother let him in, inviting him into the living room. On the coffee table lay an open photo album with your childhood photos, which Fiona constantly looked through, peering into the child's face. She offered him tea, but Leon politely refused, not wanting to disturb the unfortunate woman. And yet, in her tear-stained red eyes, a hope for at least some news flashed, but just as quickly this hope faded, leaving behind a new stream of endless maternal tears. He knew that he should not have come and stirred up your mother's already painful past, but still, he was not a fool, so the version with his father had to be checked among the first.

"She was such a good girl, Leon," the words echoed in his mind. "Why would anyone take her? She didn't do anything wrong."

Hannigan knows one thing for sure: Leon will still rush forward, without looking back, grasping at a thin thread. So she carefully hands him the DSO smartphone so that he can contact her when he gets there.

There was only one possible option left.

Revenge on him.

"I won't be able to be in touch all the time, and you know how much trouble you're risking. The big shots won't like it when they find out you chose your problems over them."

"Someone still owes me" Leon gratefully accepted the smartphone, smiling without sarcasm. "You know, sometimes it pays to save the daughters of former presidents."

Ingrid chuckled, shook her head, sighed tiredly, and sat down at the table to dump all the necessary information into his phone.

In fact, these walks in the dark were starting to get on your nerves more and more, which is why your heart was already beating painfully against your chest so that breathing exercises were hardly helping you cope with panic attacks. But still, the endless adventures ended with finding a fairly spacious, light kitchen with very old appliances. You walked forward, running your hand over the worn surface of the cabinet, noting that although this kitchen has long needed repairs and new furniture, someone was cleaning here. Moreover, there is some kind of electricity and gas here, judging by the gas stove, which you would jokingly call from the last century, but there was a large empty saucepan on it and next to the sink there was something very similar to an almost defrosted chicken. Perhaps they will even feed you. You shook your head, deciding that thoughts about food would be out of place right now, especially since you still felt sick. The lamp above your head continued to hum annoyingly, forcing you to look up a couple of times to see a moth flapping its wings above the dim bulb.

Brrrr disgusting.

You shuddered, either from the cold or disgust, turning the corner of the kitchen, seeing a staircase leading down to the basement or cellar in front of you. True, the passage was blocked with some boards, so you had to use a little brute force in the amount of a couple of kicks on the wood, forcing the nails to fall out and the boards to fall to the floor, after which you were able to go inside, where, like a miracle, on one of the shelves with some boxes lay a completely modern flashlight. You immediately grabbed it, pressing the switch to see if the batteries were working, and luck smiled at you for the second time. At least something good happened that night. Alas, but apart from expensive bottles of aromatic wines, the years of aging of which were clearly longer than you. You rummaged through the shelves trying to find something else useful like a bag or maybe a map… the latter would be great if you could find it. However, that was where your luck ended, you of course tried to climb up to the top shelves with the help of a ladder and see what was interesting there. After sorting through a bunch of dusty rolls, something huge black quickly ran in front of you and disappeared into the corner. You stopped, clicking the flashlight switch, directing the beam of light right behind the box and…

"A-A-A…"

A huge hairy spider the size of a fist quickly crawled straight towards you, making you scream and fall down along with the ladder, dropping the flashlight.

Having fallen painfully on your back, despite the pain and the cloud of dust raised, you looked forward at the culprit of your fall. Jumping up, limping from the blow, you quickly grabbed the flashlight, deciding to hell with this search. Huge spiders in a huge castle wouldn't be such a rarity, if it weren't for your arachnophobia, and this, apparently, was a tarantula.

Lord, if Leon were here, you would have sent him there instead of you without a second thought. Spiders! This is simply disgusting! He used to get rid of them, thereby protecting your nervous system. Apparently, some of the fears of parents are passed on to their children.

Well, that's what Leon joked when he found out, during his first meeting with your mother, that you were both horrified by arthropods.

In any case, you had no intention of staying even a second longer in this terrible place, so you slipped out of the kitchen and found yourself right in the spacious dining room. Heavy velvet scarlet curtains hung to the floor, revealing the dark, endless forest massif outside the wide window. The moon seemed like nothing, since black clouds covered the sky, but still the moonlight seeped in, falling on a long table covered with a red tablecloth, on which plates and cutlery stood opposite each other, and in the fireplace, the wood had clearly only recently burned out, but above the fireplace there was something that caught your attention, causing your pupils to dilate in surprise.

You.

Blinking a few times, you took a few steps forward, not believing your eyes. Some kind of evil joke?!

Or… the chances are so small, but the longer you looked at the portrait of a young girl in front of you, the worse you felt. The dizziness intensified and it felt like you were hit on the head with a sledgehammer, forcing you to bend over, clutching your forehead, and leaning your other hand on the back of the chair. Your stomach twisted into a knot, causing you to feel your mouth fill with saliva and bile, which you spat out onto the floor beneath you, falling to your knees.

This was nonsense!

The ringing silence seemed deafening, and your vision was becoming blurrier and blurrier, losing the outlines of objects, but the girl's face was still as clear as possible. You sat down on your knees, trying to catch your breath so as not to faint, while simultaneously wiping the remaining bile from your mouth with your sleeve, staining your snow-white sleeve. You had never had such attacks in your life. Of course, you fainted several times, and even once in front of Leon, after which he insisted on an examination, but that was due to low hemoglobin, but now…

Standing up carefully, leaning on the same chair, you peer into the face in the portrait. Maybe it's a joke, but you are still an exact copy of this lady in a stunning beige tea dress, looking at you with the same eyes, holding a book in her hands.

"Philosophia Occulta"

Interesting. In addition to the well-drawn title on the book that reminded you of your teenage years, you noticed another remarkable detail when you shone the flashlight on the portrait. A brooch. The same one that was in the box in the room you woke up in and that you attached to your clothes. In different sources, there are flashes about how some people from the past are terribly similar to some modern people, which gives rise to different theories. In the end, no matter how frightening it was, it was easier for you to believe that this picture was painted recently, just to scare you.

Having turned off the flashlight, you could not tear your eyes away from the portrait. The headache subsided a little and you would prefer to drink some water to get rid of the nasty taste in your mouth. Fortunately, the kitchen was behind you. Turning away, you took a few steps before you heard the noise and someone's shrill screams.

It was impossible not to give in to curiosity bordering on the approaching horror. The shadows began to thicken again when you reached for the door, pulling the handle. Closed, but downstairs.

Click.

One small turn of the latch was enough to unlock the lock and the door gave way forward, opening the way to a new corridor. Shining a flashlight in front of you, you suddenly realized that you had only opened a cut for yourself and you only needed to go up the stairs to get to your bedroom. Not knowing how good an idea it was to follow the men painful screams, you nevertheless carefully stepped up the stairs, feeling how a cold sweat began to break out and your fingertips froze with horror. Your heart began to pound. You were the only one completely alone and if these screams had a completely terrifying reason…

Holding your breath, a shudder ran through your entire body. A hurricane was raging outside the castle, and something unimaginably terrible was happening here. You walked past your room, although the desire to hide in it and lock the door was so natural in the current circumstances, however, driven by stupid fearlessness, you walked forward, and the screams became louder and louder, but now a guttural animal roar was added to them.

Someone else's footsteps resembling running were clearly approaching you.

You directed the light of the flashlight forward, peering until a disfigured, bloody and disfigured face in screams of agony appeared before you. Horror paralyzed you so that the scream stuck in your throat, not allowing you to utter a word. Instead of a left hand, shreds of what was left of it were visible, but with some hope, he stretched out his right hand to you as if before death you could appear to him as an angel who showed him the light in countless dark corridors.

"Help… me" Blood flowed profusely from his mouth. Barely stretching out his hand in response, a deafening scream rang out that eclipsed everything around. A huge animal muzzle with scarlet eyes appeared behind the man's back, clinging to his neck with fangs, tearing his throat with amazing ease. The sounds of tearing flesh made you cover your ears with your hands, but your eyes still watched as a huge clawed paw, only vaguely resembling a human one, tore the head from the body, throwing it to your feet and a bloody mouth growled at you. The flashlight fell with a thud.

At some point, you realized that that scream was actually yours. This was the end. Collapsing to the floor due to the horror that buckled your legs, you found yourself right in a puddle of warm alien blood, which made you look again at the torn head that the monster touched and it rolled back to you, making you sob as you crawled to the wall thinking only about how your death would be quick.

Some spider appendages controlled by it crawled out from behind the monster. Tears flowed down your cheeks as you curled up into a ball, closing your eyes for the last time, screaming, preparing for pain.

"Stop right now! Don't you dare touch her, you worthless thing!"

With a quiet squeal the monster dropped to all fours slowly backing away from you in front of its master, tucking its appendages back behind its back. Whatever it was you saw it take the man's headless body and run off into the darkness before your savior appeared before your eyes

Dark hair framed his face beautifully, highlighting his natural pallor, or maybe it was the poor lighting, but his green eyes looked straight into your soul with deep concern. He kicked the head, causing it to roll away from you, squatting down to you, carefully taking your face in his hands, wiping away the tears with his fingers.

"I'm so sorry, you shouldn't have seen this, but if you had listened to me and gone straight to the your room, you wouldn't have witnessed such a tragic scene. Calm down, she won't touch you."

"Lord-d..."

You whispered with just your lips, feeling everything inside you turn over. The blood beats like an alarm in your ears, but instead of another headache, you fall into darkness from which you have no desire to emerge.

Even the smell of blood disappears, however, perhaps the reason is that the caring owner of the castle just picked you up, hugging you to himself, carrying you back to the bedroom where you woke up.

"Hannigan, maybe you can make it a little easier for me by narrowing

The Spanish flashbacks continued to roll over Leon, although there was no village here, no sign of a biological weapon, a premonition stubbornly told him that evil was waiting in the depths. When a certain area was highlighted on the smartphone Ingrid gave him, he checked the gun again.

"Alright, that's better."

"Leon, I'm not entirely sure, but I did find some information. Not entirely reliable, although it might be interesting."

Opening the file that had just been sent to him, Leon quickly scanned the lines, still surprised despite his years of working for the DSO. But it looked like he was in for another stroll through the historical sites, although he was unlikely to be expected there.

[sunfloo-wers]

I HAVE BRIBED AN IRL FRIEND INTO DOING (what I’m tentatively calling) A FANDOM SWAP AND IM SO EXITED YIPPPEEEEEEEEEEE

The main thing is that I read fics and look at fanart for the main fandom she’s in, that being Batfam, and she looks at LU stuff, and it’s all around a good time!!!!

We’ve gushed about little guys to each other a lot before but neither of us have really looked into the other’s stuff, just listened to the madman’s ramblings, so this is gonna be SUPER FUN!!!!

Besides just celebration happy screaming into the void, I’m also asking if anyone has any fics or fanart that they really love because now that I have to compile a list, my brain is no thoughts head empty ._. SO if you’ve got a really good piece (if you made it or otherwise) please tell me!!! :D We’ve put a soft less than 20K words thing for the first go around just so we’re not staring with long fics but if you have any recs at all I would love to hear them!

[centrally-unplanned]

RIP Ted Kaczynski, your episode of Cowboy Bebop is my favourite of the bunch.

But seriously, while an obviously deeply morally wrong person and someone whose societal analysis was even more wrong, his writing did influence me. There is a fork of truth only a madman can deliver, and if he is your first time touching that genre as a young political reader, he more than anyone will show it to you. In many of us are his futile screams of rage into the void of impossibility, and giving that incoherence a voice is a valuable service. A salute for that role you played.

[sunsetmaidenwrites]

Hi! In Your Eyes? 👀 (I have been down the Ava x Bucky rabbit hole before)

Hi! Thanks so much for asking me about this one. This is a rarepair that really captures my interest. I wrote a one shot for them not too long ago and have been wanting to write more. (I have a bit of an Ava Starr-agenda. She's made a few cameos in recent stories, too. I find her very fascinating!)

This one is a movie au based on an indie flick by the same name. It has a twin flames concept, with Bucky and Ava being strangers who can sense what the other one is feeling. Somewhat aware of this from an early age and not really understanding it, they've managed to shut the bond down and shut the other out.

But as they get older, both find themselves desperately lonely and at a crossroads needing a connection. Ava is trapped in a loveless marriage to a controlling man; Bucky can't seem to escape his troubled past. Feeling vulnerable, frustrated, and lost, their mental connection sparks back to life and they begin communicating with one another through their shared bond.

Here is a snippet (language warning):

After that visit, he’d gone back to his cell, huddled down on the hard lumpy cot that was his home for the foreseeable future and he’d sobbed. Deep, silent, shaking shudders. Surrounded by the moans and howls and cursing of his fellow inmates, the smell of piss, sweat and broken dreams hovering heavy in the air as he mourned every way he’d gone wrong. Every mistake he could never fix because every path set before him had always led exactly here.

If he didn’t die in this hell hole, it would be another. Alone and miserable, getting what Fate determined from the start he had coming. His hands clenched into fists, and he wished he could hit something…probably himself. He deserved it after the disappointment he’d seen in Steve’s eyes.

I’m sorry, his soul screamed, but who was he apologizing to? Steve? Becca? His Ma for turning out too much like his ol’ man? Or maybe…maybe there was someone else. Some distant aching memory he’d pushed and hidden away, never completely relinquishing though he’d refused to give it a name for fear it made him a madman. Carefully, in the depths of his misery and recrimination, he unfurled one hand, letting it rest listlessly by his side as he waited. He could do it. Just once, though it’d been years. He just had to concentrate, open his mind, pull the cord on his tightly shuttered heart and let the phantom light in. Gulping down breath, spit, and guilt, he opened his eyes and peeked into the void. There was nothing there. Just the peeling, cold unforgiving gray of the ceiling. No other pictures for his mind to cling and sift through, probably because he’d forgotten how to dream so long ago. But there was something…just beyond him. Out of reach. An itch. A tingle. A certainty that he wasn’t as alone as he insisted. I did it for you. His mind screamed, his fingertips twitching in desperate beckoning. Just once. One more time. One last time. And I’ll shut you out. I’ll never ask again. He swallowed hard, tears leaking from his eyes. He was 18 years old, and he’d already fucked up every chance at a decent life. Please. Then by some miracle he’d never understand—surely the imaginings of a fucked-up brain—he felt it. The flutter of fingertips, grazing the length of his own. Warm, safe, and capable as they traveled up the length of his fingertips, before flattening so they were hand to hand. His real palm and an invisible shadow palm that existed only in his mind but felt more fucking real than anything else he’d experienced. He felt the sliding sensation as fingers sank into the crevices of his and squeezed. Held on.

Bucky closed his eyes once more, the silent sobs abating as he sank into the serenity of the moment. A simple touch. Surely all in his head. But it didn’t let go. And neither did Bucky.

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

The beauty of Vincent Price in Diary of a Madman (1963)

[hey-sherry]

Act VIII Ending this... SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

Let's save the world \o/

(acting chipper, but I am writing this after finishing the game and haha I AM NOT OKAY)

Puzzle solving with Watson, weee! The PoV switching was fun, I loved their banter, I wish Watson had actually kicked me, poking fun at all of the tomb raiding from two British men was fun fun fun.

The cave labyrinth - so creepy. We got so much distressed Sherlock in this one, poor guy! And yeah, he died once because I insisted on exploring... as I said, we ignore the main objective in this house.

This was such a haunting moment, and we could maybe stretch it into Sherlock's disdain for the solar system...

I was so distraught in the moment, I didn't even notice the SHOULDER GRAB we've all been waiting for. Well! We love a good parallel, yes good good.

My beautiful mad boy. I had to laugh out loud when he chastised Watson for killing the man - after I watched Sherlock die three times in a row because I can't aim to save my life.

Big "For me, it's always like this" moment imo, especially after looking at the Void painting. (Will I ever stop drawing parallels between Silent Hill 2 and every other game I see? No. It's good!!)

This happened BACK TO BACK, what perfect timing! My beautiful pure perfect boy. I miss him so much. :'(

UM!!! Screaming inside.

Nothing like a gritty, bloody Holmes and a complete madman having a dialogue battle in a raging storm. I selected the wrong answers a few times just to see what happens, which brings us to... a problem:

This. This, a QTE in the year of the Lord two thousand and twenty-three, dampened SO much of my feelings and enjoyment for the final moments of this game. It wasn't fun, it didn't make me feel smart or scared for Sherlock or... anything. It took me out of the whole thing and reminded me that, yeah, I am playing a videogame. Introducing a new gaming mechanic (a widely disliked one at that) at the very end of the game is the real insanity here. I'm really disappointed by this.

The beam puzzle itself was fine and I had fun figuring out where to point the beams. Just not the crowd part.

I will not mention that other game I love to draw parallels to, but I did think of it. A bit too on the nose this time, mayhaps!

This poor man :'(

I could be posting screenshots of the dialogue all day, really - so many famous quotes, references, all the while making it very clear about a cycle that repeats itself, ha.

OOF.

Yeah, so.

We have to talk.

About being lulled into a sense of safety.

Before everything you think you know and believe about people gets flipped upside down.

Because...

WHAT THE FUUUUUUCKKKKKKKK

????????????????????

My friends, the way my jaw fucking dropped. I-- Watson-- WHAT????

This game was dark enough as it is, well - expectedly. This, however, I did not expect in the slightest (I don't think ANY of us did). This is so bloody dark?!

So, I half expected Sherlock's addiction to be mentioned in the beginning of TA - in the 2008 game he is just kinda melancholy, in Chapter One the 7% solution is presented by Vogel, so I think most of us assumed he used it at some point after Cordona to cope with all the stuff - but then it just wasn't. Instead he used Watson's syringes as pins. If this is meant to be how the addiction actually starts, then I really don't know what to think of it.

The implications are really dark.

I need another game.

[historypoem]

Chernobyl's Cosmic Horror

In the heart of Soviet lands, a horror did unfold A place where none could escape, a story left untold The power of the atom, a force beyond our grasp Unleashed by human hands, a nightmare we now clasp

The utopian dream of Bolshevik's grand design A cult of engineers, who thought they were divine Masters of a power, they could not comprehend Their arrogance and folly, led to Chernobyl's end

The reactor was their temple, the core their deity They worshiped without caution, ignoring sanity A madman's grand design, a Frankenstein's creation Accursed abomination, beyond all imagination

They delved into the void of the atom A realm where none dared to fathom The forbidden knowledge they did crave Their lust for power no one could brave

But as they danced with the dark and unknown Horror from beyond was quietly grown A nameless terror that did lurk Unleashed upon the land with a deadly murk

The reactor screamed with a sickly light For shadows danced in the still of the night The cult's dream became a waking nightmare As eldritch horrors arose from the air

The people of Chernobyl, doomed to suffer Their flesh and bones transformed into the other Their souls consumed by the eldritch abomination Spawned from the cult's twisted fascination