#fic series: bones

[petertingle-yipyip]

STRANGER - KAZ BREKKER

//tags: @beekeepingageissome // an: i really hope i can pull this off. i anticipate this being 2-3 parts. right now, we’re set before the Ice Court. also i’m picturing danielle rose russell as the character. lmk if we want this as an OC or reader// next part

Pairing: kaz x rollins!reader (enemies to lovers) [no Y/N used yet]

Word Count: 5,892

Summary: Her father’s action led to the death of her only two childhood friends, Kaz and Jordie Rietveld. Only Kaz returned as the infamous Dirtyhands. Creating her own gang in the shadows, she considers allying with the Bastard of the Barrel, only it goes about as well as anything could with Brekker.

It all seemed so far away, the first time you had met Kaz and his brother. Years ago that seemed to be another life. And maybe it was. You had left your father not long after that. When you heard that Jordie and Kaz - or at least two boys that fit their descriptions and matched your sketches - were picked up during the Queen Lady’s Plague collections, your stomach had pitched.

You were only a child, the same age as Kaz give or take a few months, and his brother seemed a good boy. They ate dinner with your family, played with you and your dog. You and Kaz had come up with games late into the night until Jordie took him home.

And then suddenly, you and your family were out of the house. You didn’t understand but you didn’t question it. You never saw the boys again but it was easy enough to hear of who had died of the sickness and who hadn’t. And it didn’t take long to find out how.

Your father used an alias and rolled the boys for their money. They had nowhere to go except the streets and it killed them.

Well, one of them.

Kaz had managed to pull through, but the boy that came back wasn’t the boy you knew. He had changed and you weren’t sure if you had expected him to be the same. When you left your father, you had seen him around the Barrel. You considered talking to him but the unbridled anger in his eyes kept you at bay. Instead, you decided to bide your time. Build your own empire. And in time, you would offer Kaz a deal and take down your father together.

Leaving Jordie and Kaz to die killed not only one of the Rietveld brothers, but it killed you as well. You existed only in stories to him. Pekka Rollins’ only daughter, fled home as a young teen, building up a gang of her own.

You changed your hair, colored it a midnight shade of red, and cut bangs. You kept the rest braided and pinned. You wore a hooded cloak when you went out during the day. You never spoke your name in public. But you did help yourself to your father’s money.

Your money, technically, since it was placed into an account in your name. You withdrew from it once a month, never letting the balance fall beneath the initial. It filled the coffer of your growing gang, choosing a snake as your branding. Your father had Dime Lions. Kaz had the Dregs. You had your snakes, though a fitting name never came to you.

You were on your way to attempt a meeting with the Dregs’ Heartrender, Nina Zenik. She held occupancy at the White Rose, and she was not an easy woman to schedule with. Nor was she cheap. You were leaving the bank, your latest withdrawal under your cloak, when you saw him.

You’d seen him in passing over the years, heard all the stories of what he’d become. Dirtyhands Kaz Brekker. The Bastard of the Barrel. Some said he was a demon. Some called him a monster, a wretched boy with only bones for fingers. He was Death, the Reaper who sent his Wraith without remorse.

You had to remind yourself to breath when a hand clasped your shoulder.

You spun quickly and a hand went to the small knife in the sheath sewn to the inside of the collar.

“Boss has been looking for you.” A familiar voice said. You didn’t know his name, but the voice was one from your childhood. You didn’t miss the lion tattooed on his forearm. “He’ll be happy to see who’s been taking his money.”

You narrowed your eyes but remained quiet. You yanked your knife free and sliced the forearm of the hand touching you, cutting right through the Lion. Decapitating it. You would’ve stayed and admired your handiwork had you not been on a mission.

So you ran.

You worked through the busy crowd until you somehow ended up at Kaz’s side.

“I need your help.” You stepped in front of him. You hadn’t even realized it was him until you stood face to face.

You couldn’t have picked anyone else?

“You’ve come to the wrong person.” He shook his head.

“It’s one of Pekka Rollins’ men.” You tried urgently. “They’re looking for his daughter.”

That got his attention but he tried not to show it. It flashed across his face for a split second, a momentary sliver of the young boy you knew.

“Isn’t she dead?” He said flatly, as if it was a fact. “I sure hope so.”

“She’s not.” You said sharply and dared a glanced behind him. Your father’s goon was making his way through the crowd a few feet away. “But I’m guessing you’ll kill her if you get the chance.”

“In front of her father, yes. Maybe slice her open from her sternum and watch her heart stop beating.” He nodded, tapping the beak of his crow against the base of your throat, then paused to study your face. Your heart sped up and under your cloak, the grip on your knife grew tighter in an effort to not bat his cane away. It was already stained with the blood of your pursuer, and you weren’t above adding Kaz’s if he recognized you, but you were praying that Sankta Alina would help you avoid it. Never one for religion, but her story had always stuck with you. “What do you know about her?”

You lifted your chin slightly. “Why should I tell you anything?”

He leaned down slightly and you reflexively stepped back. “You came to me, remember? Unless you’d like me to leave you here for your friend back there.”

You sneered slightly before answering. “She’s alive, in the Barrel. She’s been building her own gang, using her father’s money for it.”

Kaz’s head cocked in interest.

“He has an account open for her and puts money in every week. She empties it every month or so.”

“A fool’s errand.”

“Excuse me?”

“Leaves a paper trail, on both sides… Why is she still here?”

“Why do you think? She wants to get rid of her father.”

“Why?”

You checked again and the Dime Lion was closing in. You shifted on your feet and Kaz took a step to the side, turning himself slightly to block you from view. You dropped your head and blocked your face with your hand as the man passed, hoping the scene looked like a blushing girl hiding her embarrassment. You sighed with relief and almost thanked Kaz.

He didn’t do it for you. You’re useful to him now is all.

“How do you know this?” Kaz asked after watching the Dime Lion for a few more seconds.

You replaced your knife and unbuttoned your cloak to pull your collar and show the snake tattoo winding across your shoulder. You fixed your clothing back to position and Kaz studied you silently.

“I’m sure we’ll meet again soon, Brekker.” You nodded.

He stood dumbfounded as you continued on. It took only a moment before the shock wore off. Kaz watched you go, his confusion burning to anger. He was mad that you had so much information yet gave so little. He was mad that you knew him, yet he knew nothing about you.

But what infuriated him most was that you were vaguely familiar. That he felt some old reminder of who he used to be, when he was just a boy with his brother. He also thought of Jordie with a shudder. He hated that you had some memory connected to his brother and he swore that he would get his answers, even if he had to cut them out of you.

When you were finally able to get in with Nina, it was a relief. She went into what seemed like a rehearsed spiel while you undid your cloak and draped it across your lap as you sat. You reached into your boot and pulled out the specific pile that was intended for her. You dropped it on the table and it silenced her.

“I didn’t come for the Heartrender, Ms. Zenik. I need the Dreg.” You began calmly. 

“The Dregs?” She tugged her sleeve uncomfortably. “What is this, a test from Brekker?”

“Not at all. I just ask that you deliver a few things to Kaz.”

“A delivery?” She laughed. “Drop it in the Post like every other lovesick girl that thinks they can fix him and move on, Dear.”

“He has a fan club?” Your brow quirked. You knew it was a joke but you wouldn’t be surprised if there was some group of girls that were fawning over Kaz. He was very pretty after all. “This isn’t a declaration of love or a marriage proposal. More of a… heads-up.”

“If this is a threat-“ Her hand raised and quickly lifted your own in defeat.

“I’d rather try my luck against his Wraith than face you.” You admitted. “I’d like you to hear me out, Nina. Please, you can turn me away and keep the money after. I’m sure every cent helps towards your Fjerdan project.”

Hesitantly, she lowered her hand 

You flipped your cloak and withdrew the small envelope from the main pocket. You held it out to her and waited until she opened it before you spoke.

“All I ask is that you get these to Brekker. He’ll know what they mean.” You said calmly, though your heart was racing. You wondered if she could tell.

“Drawings?” She looked up from the papers to you.

“She’s quite proud of those.” You smiled slightly.

It was a small collection of portrait sketches. A few of Kaz as a kid, one of Jordie and Kaz, and a few of Kaz in recent times.

“There should be something else.” You nodded and she shook the ring out of the envelope.

“Hmm, are you sure this isn’t a proposal?” She joked.

She examined it carefully, turning it at different angles and holding it close to her face. She slipped it on her own finger - it was so small, it barely fit her pinky -  and your jaw tightened.

“Who is this she you mentioned?” She asked, looking back to you.

“He’ll know.”

“I could just keep this ring, you know. It’s quite adorable.”

“You could.” You agreed. “But that’s a risk she was aware of. Truthfully, I didn’t think you’d care much for a child’s keepsake ring. Besides, it was either you or the sharpshooter, and I’m sure Jesper Fahey would’ve found some parlor that’d give him a line of credit for it.”

“It’s Grisha made, isn’t it?”

You rubbed the fabric of your cloak between your fingers. That had cost you quite a pretty penny. “Yes.”

“Must be a very well off child.”

“She was.”

“Merchant’s daughter?”

“Not quite.”

She quickly grew tired of your avoidant answers. “So what happens if Kaz gets all this?”

“He can do what he wishes with the papers. Those are only a part of a collection that needs to be downsized regardless, but the ring is what’s important… She’ll come for it when she’s ready.”

“She plans on waltzing up to Kaz and demanding the ring?”

“No.” You smiled. “She’ll simply take it back, almost like a placeholder.”

“She’s mad if she thinks she can rob Kaz Brekker” Nina laughed, and you had to admit the sound was rather infectious. “But I’d love to see her try.”

“Can I trust you with this, Ms. Zenik?”

She mulled it over and had to tighten your hands into fists around the fabric of your cloak when you saw your ring was still on her finger. You knew you couldn’t take it back. Not only because it was part of your plan, but because she’d stop your heart as soon as you stood.

“I will, but only because I'd like to see how this’ll play out.” She nodded. “But what about the Wraith?”

You stood and fastened your cloak into place over your shoulders.

“He’ll send her for you and whoever sent these.” She warned.

“Trust. She expects as much.” You added over your shoulder as you left the room.

It took a few days but the unmistakable feeling of being watched from the shadows seized you as you were returning to your small dwelling. You ducked down a different alley, weaving your way through crowded passageways until you finally got to an empty, secluded area. Bold to lure the Wraith deeper into darkness, but you couldn’t risk anyone else hearing your words.

“I’m surprised he waited so long.” You said flatly and lowered your hood. To anyone else, you were talking to yourself. But soon after, her dark clad figure came from the shadows and you faced her bravely. “Hello, Wraith.”

She held up her hand and your ring tumbled out, tied around a string attached to her wrist. You stared at the small piece of jewelry for a moment and the chain around your neck you usually kept it on felt too light. You missed the light weight against your chest, the way it would bounce off your bones when you ran or trained.

“Ah.” You forced a smile. “I see Nina made good on our deal. I should thank her.”

“What business do you have with Kaz?” She finally spoke and her voice was level, void of any sort of emotional cue. You had to give it to Kaz. He trained his Dregs well.

“What business does he have with Pekka Rollins?” You countered. You knew it all, every minute detail, but you wondered what he had told her.

“Nina said that you work for someone else.” She changed the subject, wanting control of the interrogation. “An unnamed girl with Grisha connections.”

“Hmm.” You shrugged. “What did Brekker tell you when he sent you after me?”

“That you work for Pekka Rollins’ daughter.”

You tilted your head side to side in thought. “I suppose, in a way they’re both correct.” You conceded and flicked your cloak over your shoulder. You watched her hand fly to the knives at her ribs and you smiled innocently. You shifted your shirt collar and tilted your head away, waiting for her to see your tattoo. She squinted into the darkness but her hand slowly fell away. “I’d like to live long enough for the reunion, Inej.”

Her eyes went wide and she took a step back. You fixed your cloak over your shoulder and held out your empty palms.

“Yes, I know quite a bit about Brekker’s favorite Crows.” You said simply, keeping all malice out of your words. “Nina Zenik, the Heartrender at the White Rose with a Fjerdan friend out at Hellgate. Jesper Fahey, remarkable Zemeni sharpshooter with a tendency to wring out his coffers across the Barrel. You, Inej Ghafa, formerly Tante Heleen’s Lynx turned ghost story, utilizing those Suli acrobatics. Then there’s the Fjerdan himself that Brekker keeps tabs on, and the new one, the young demo expert.”

Wylan Van Eck - though he had an alias of his own - but you didn’t dare to say that. You wondered if Wylan would recognize you, but you had only seen him in passing years ago. You weren’t sure he knew that much about the Barrel in general. But given the fact that Kaz didn’t recognize you, you doubted Wylan would when you thought about it.

“How long have you been watching us?” She asked, squaring her shoulders and tucking the ring away. You were sad to see it go.

“Off and on.” You shrugged. “Truthfully, I just needed to establish a pattern before I could get that to him… He did get it, didn’t he?”

Her head cocked and you knew she heard something in your voice. Hope, or desperation maybe, and you cursed yourself for it.

“No.” She said smugly. “Nina delivered it to me.”

“Then I assume you have the same motives as she did, interest in what’s happening here.” You realized. “Tell me, Wraith. Has Kaz ordered my death yet, or am I still a target?”

“I believe the word he used was investment.”

“Investment… You know you won’t get anything from me. You’ll go and report back to Kaz with how much I know. If you two haven’t already, you’ll go over the ‘paper trail’ of her account and see it’s been tapped out, which’ll only serve as proof to what I’ve said so far. I’ll wander the Barrel, wasting nights at a gambling table while I bat my lashes to use someone else’s money or I’ll sample the menageries to pass the time. You or Brekker will get restless and pause your pursuit. And when none of you are looking, I’ll go back and you won’t see me again unless I want you to.”

You recognized a flash of silver and realized she drew a knife. You hadn’t even seen her hand move but you hid your shock by lifting your chin defiantly. You would not yield, not cower from Inej. You folded your hands in front of you, under your cloak so you could reach your pistol.

“I don’t want a fight, Inej.” You said honestly.

“I don’t intend there to be much of one.” She countered smoothly and the blade shifted in her hand. “I come as a warning. Keep her snakes away from us.” She said, adding extra venom into your gang’s patron.

“Us?” You instigated. “You bear no Dreg tattoo, Wraith. How can I be sure you’re truly aligned with them?”

“Doubt be again and find out.”

“We don’t want a war.” You reasoned.

“It doesn’t matter what you want. You and your shadow boss will not back the Dregs into a corner. Brekker won’t he-“

“I don’t fear Kaz Brekker.” You said firmly.

“Then you’re more of a fool than he thinks.” She snapped. She glanced around as if someone was listening, but no one in Ketterdam dared to watch the confrontations in the alleys. “Pride will be your downfall before he makes a move.”

“He wants to dismantle everything Pekka Rollins has.” You reasoned. You weren’t why you wanted so badly to convince Inej that you weren’t Kaz’s enemy, but when you thought about it, you knew he’d see you that way regardless. You worked for Pekka Rollins’ daughter. Actually, you were Rollins’ daughter. You’d be dead the second he found out. “She wants her father’s empire to burn as well. Why fight?”

“Do not come to the Dregs again, snake.”

“Is that a threat?” Your brows raised.

She smiled and her hand was a blur as the knife flew at you. You barely hid behind your cloak in time. You felt the blunt force of the knife against your cheek, thanking the Saints, before the blade clattered to the floor. You peaked out and another came, skating across the back of your hand. You yelped and clutched the wound to your chest.

Before you could react, she was on you. She had you by your cloak and slammed you against the nearest wall. You felt the distinct tip of a blade under your chin and you were quick to pull your own. You pressed it against her abdomen, grabbing her other arm to keep her close. You ignored the burn of the cut and righted your grip.

“The thing with snakes-“ You began and smiled. “We can wait. Bide our time until conditions fit us. We won’t back the Dregs into a corner, but you won’t flush us out either.”

Her eyes darted between yours as she tried to read your expression. Or maybe she wanted to remember your features. Either way, you acted. You slammed your head forward and collided with hers. She stumbled back and her blade fell away. You flicked your cloak to add to her disorientation before you kicked at her chest to knock her down.

Then you ran. 

It took a few more days before you saw either of them again. You had seen a Healer in that time, someone who wouldn’t give their name or let you look directly at them. Why they were in hiding you didn’t know or ask. They repaired your hand and that was all you needed.

You were wandering the streets when you saw her silhouette in the alley you passed. Moments later, she was on the rooftops above you, following. You dared a glance but as soon as your eyes turned that way, she disappeared. You knew she wanted you to follow so you sighed to yourself, checked that no one else was looking - of course they weren’t - and ducked down the alley.

You went as deep as you dared but there was no one else, only the faint tap of a cane behind you. You nodded slightly and put your hands up in surrender. You flipped down your hood and turned, facing Kaz straight on.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” You began innocently, though you added a bit of roughness to your voice. If Kaz was going to recognize you, you weren’t going to make it easy for him.

A soft thud of landing behind you but you kept your focus forward.

“Will you come quietly?” Kaz spoke simply, as if it was obvious you were beaten. You quirked a brow and considered how the fight would go if you chose it. One of them you could take, but winning against both of them wasn’t likely.

“You say that like there’s a choice.” You sighed. “I know when I’m out-gunned, Dirtyhands.”

You slipped your fingers under the opposite sleeve and slid the hidden retractable blade strapped to your wrist out. You tossed the cuff to Kaz and he caught it with the crow’s beak of his cane. While he examined the small device, you held your pistol to Inej, who took it without a word. You tapped the toe of one boot on the ground, then the other, and felt the blade shifting against your leg. Glancing up, Kaz didn’t seem to notice the movement but the gentle kick to shin told you Inej did. With a huff, you pulled it out and handed it over. All you were left with was the small blade at the sheath under your cloak’s collar, but you wouldn’t give that up.

Only an idiot gets taken hostage by the two most lethal Dregs unarmed.

“Nice to see you again, Wraith.” You said teasingly. “Although this isn’t much of a fair fight, is it?”

You put your hands up again and offered Kaz a sarcastic expression. He was stone faced as usual, though he nodded to Inej over your shoulder. Your brows furrowed and as you turned, the side of your head was slammed into the nearest wall.

You woke up tied to a chair in an office/bedroom with an empty chair across from you, Kaz’s cane resting against the seat. Your head was pounding and you could feel your pulse beating in the new wound, growing as the room came into better focus. Your cloak was thrown across the desk, your wrists tied tightly to the back of the chair with scratchy ropes, your ankles were tied a lot looser. You shifted in the chair to test the integrity and wondered how hard you’d have to fall for it to break.

“About time.” He complained from somewhere behind you.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do your usual hostages regain consciousness sooner?” You spat back, craning your neck to find him. “Should’ve brought your Heartrender if you were that impatient.”

Kaz was making it very hard to try for an alliance with him. At that moment, you wanted to kick his pretty teeth in.

“You’re not worth that much trouble.” He waved you off and you saw the infamous black gloves.

“Enough trouble for you to come and get me. What made that decision for you? Was it when Inej couldn’t do it herself?”

“Are you certain she wanted to?”

“Could’ve fooled me, but according to her, I’m a fool anyways.” You shrugged as best you could. “What's with the gloves?”

His leather-clad hands tightened into fists and he looked down at them for a moment, contemplating. You wondered what was going through his head, but you’d never know. His expression was as blank as ever and you cursed his self-control.

“You didn't wear them before.” You continued. “When you were a boy.”

“You know quite a lot, Dear.” He said simply and made his way in front of you. He moved his cane and sat, stretching his legs in front of him.

“Been around a while.”

“Who are you?” He leaned in a bit in interest. You were something new, something potentially dangerous, and he wanted to learn everything he could about you.

“A stranger that knows so much about you, Kaz Rietveld.”

His eyes narrowed and shifted the cane between his hands. You eyed it carefully, knowing the dangers that object held especially in Kaz’s hands. It could break bones, numb limbs, slice through skin. You’d be lucky if he didn’t use it on you, but the daunting silhouette of the crow’s head didn’t stop you from talking.

“You and Jordie… Her drawings are the spitting ima-“

The sharp beak of his crow topper sliced down your cheekbone and cut your words short. Your head snapped to the side and you cried out slightly, fresh blood slowly dripping down your cheek. You stared back at him angrily, new and sudden rage burning in your stomach as he stood over you.

“You don’t get to say that name.” He said viciously. The rage in his eyes made you worry he’d kill you there. “What did she tell you?”

“You can beat me all you like.” You said firmly. “I won’t break.”

“Then you’ll die.”

He pulled a knife and you shifted in your seat, pushing back as far as you could. One of his covered hands landed on your shoulder while the other pressed the blade to your throat. Your eyes darted in a panic and you noticed the silver chain around his neck.

“The ring.” You breathed and the knife froze. “You have the ring. You know she’s out there.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” He pulled the blade, causing you to wince, and you felt a thin stream of blood from your neck. He took up his cane with the other hand and tapped it against the floor, punctuating his words.  “I do, however, doubt you’re as steadfast as you claim.”

“It doesn’t matter.” You shook your head. “I’ll die before I give up anything on my snakes. You think I don’t know what you do to people you don’t like? I’ve heard all the stories, Dirtyhands.” You laughed. “I wouldn’t risk their lives just to save myself.”

The cold crow’s head came under your chin and forced your attention to him.

“Your snakes?” His head cocked and your eyes went wide with panic for a moment. Leave it to Kaz to pick up on your one rhetoric mistake.

“I serve as her lieutenant. The snakes are as much mine as hers.” You covered, but he didn’t seem convinced as you jerked your head away. “Are the Dregs not as much yours as they are Haskell’s?”

“The Dregs follow me.” He said firmly, an air of leadership and confidence around him. If you didn’t have a gang already, you would’ve asked him to take you in as well. “This will go one of two ways. You answer my questions and you can burrow back into whatever hole you and Rollins’ pathetic daughter are hiding in with minimal injury.”

You spat at his feet. He swung the cane at your ribs. You wheezed as the air left one of your lungs.

“Or I can flay you piece by piece until you’re unrecognizable, covered in tears and your own blood, and I still get what I need.”

“You’ll get nothing from me.” You rasped and shook your head.

“Or…” He trailed off, wagging his finger as if a new idea came to him. “I can simply keep you here, wait until she finally shows herself and then drag her kicking and screaming to her father’s doorstep.”

“And do what?” You dared to ask, though you had a feeling you knew the answer. “He won’t care. He gave up on her years ago.”

“If that were true, he wouldn’t have an account for her.” Kaz shook his head. “Yes, I looked into it and, as I mentioned, the paper trail was easy enough to pick up. But I must admit, the trail to you was quite the dead-end. Well done.”

“He’ll laugh in your face if you bring her to him.” You continued, but the air you breathed left the faint taste of blood in your mouth. “She ran out on him. You think he’d want to see her again?”

“Oh, I think he’s still hoping she’ll come home.”

The wicked look in his eyes told you all you needed.

“To protect his secrets, maybe. She knows every trick he has.”

“Secrets die with those who keep them.” Kaz mused as if it was his saying. “And the only ones worth keeping aren’t worth a life.”

“Oh, Saints.” You complained with your head dropped against the back of the chair, eyes cast upward. “You know no one is going to come for me, don’t you?”

Silence. Just the threatening tap of his cane on the floor.

“Her and I agreed that if either of us get caught by you or her father, we wouldn’t go looking for the other. It’s a good way to get us both killed so we sacrifice the other if push comes to shove.” You looked back at him. “And you’ve shoved.”

“No one is coming?” He asked. The question seemed innocent enough but the menacing way he spun his knife in his hand proved otherwise.

“Our secret dies with the other.”

“Meaning no one will hear your screams? You’ll cry out and plead. but no one will come… I almost feel sorry for you.”

“Hang on.” You tried and he pressed the knife to your collarbone, a few inches to the side of your snake tattoo. “I-“

“Giving in already?” He taunted.

You needed something to get the knife off of you, something to distract him. He didn’t seem all that interested in anything about your alleged leader. Maybe he knew all he needed about you on that front. Was there something you could ask him instead?

“She feels guilty.” You confessed suddenly. “About you. About Jordie.”

You flinched at the look he gave you.

“I don’t know who he is!” You lied quickly.

You hated that all your control, all your pose and power, fell away while you were strapped to the chair. You were helpless, at the mercy of the Bastard of the Barrel, the most notorious and merciless person in Ketterdam. Maybe you were out of your league.

“I’ve only heard the name… She says her father took everything and she wishes there was something she could’ve done. She wants to make things right.”

“Make things right?” He asked lowly before a rough, disbelieving chuckles left his lips. “Can she suddenly raise the dead? No, you see, she was a child. Just as I was. But breaking her in front of her father, taking the one thing he yearns for, now that just might ‘make things right’.”

“What happened to you?” You said desperately. “What changed?”

“The boy that girl told you about is dead.” Kaz explained carefully, as if saying those words took more effort than anything he’d ever done. “Kaz Rietveld is dead.”

“She doesn’t believe that.”

“What’s that old saying? Like calls to like? Believing that makes her more of a fool than you are… Where is she?”

“She’s in the Barrel.” You confessed carefully. The knife hit the ground but before you could feel any relief. a heavy fist connected with your jaw. Blood filled your mouth and you knew you but your tongue, hard.

“Tell me something I don’t already know.” He said, his voice holding a dangerous edge.

“No.” You managed through gritted teeth. “What will you do, hunt her? You’ll never find her.”

“What makes you think you haven’t led us to her already?”

Your mind raced. Had he or Inej seen you go to your most recent safe house? It was possible that he had been trailing you longer than you thought, but if that was the case, he’d know that there was no girl in the shadows leading the snakes. It was you.

It was a bluff.

“So string her up instead of me.” You sneered and shifted your feet, just able to brace your toes against the floor. “I tried to be civilized here, Brekker. But you know what I’ve learned?”

“Enlighten me.”

“You’re just a man. And all men can fall.”

His brows furrowed slightly and you threw yourself backwards. The chair hit the ground and broke with a loud crack. You got to your knees and were fiddling with the ropes that bound your wrists to the fragments of the chair when you had to drop to your back, the heavy crow’s head swinging past where you head would’ve been. You yelped and rolled to the side as it crashed into the floor in a high arc.

Finally, you freed your hands. However, the crow’s head landed against your same side again and the impact had you falling to your face. You coughed roughly and the ragged breathing and shooting pain had you fearing that your rib was broken.

With a whine, you climbed to a kneel.

Your eyes darted to your cloak before surveying for an escape route. You could go for the door but it was obvious and you knew the place would likely be crawling with Dregs. You weren’t getting out that way. Your only other option seemed to be the window.

You got to your feet and charged. You threw punches at Kaz, hardly any of them connecting. You growled slightly in annoyance at his ability to block your hits so you threw your elbow instead, smacking it to the side of his jaw. You followed it with a hard hook then a few body shots. You wanted to end it so you threw a hard kick for his head but he caught it.

He tilted his head in disappointment and you saw the blossoming red marks across his features. You watched his elbow lift, on a path to the side of your knee, and you reacted. You jumped and threw the other foot. It connected with his jaw and you both fell to the floor. You cried loudly and you landed on the rib.

You forced yourself up, ignored the dangerously threatening pain as you stood straight, and dashed for your cloak. Beneath it was the rest of your weaponry. You collected it in a hurry and climbed through the window.

“We’ll meet again, Kaz.” You warned, crouching in the windowsill. He had rolled to his back and you saw the cut your kick broke near his eyebrow. “Come for me before that, I’ll burn the Dregs to the ground.”

Then you were gone.

[wwillywonka]

HELLO SAILOR

[laney-rockin]

Kirk is the type of person to bring Spock weird flora he finds on planets when the Vulcan isn't on the landing party.

Like he'll see something that he thinks Spock would absolutely love to analyze and he brings it right to him once he's back from the landing party.

I like to believe that Kirk corners Spock in one of the labs and gives him the assortment of flora he's found and Spock is just very smitten by the whole thing.

But one day Spock isn't in the science labs so Kirk just runs around the ship looking for him. And the entire ship just sees their captain walking full speed towards their first officer holding what always seems to be a bouquet.

Needless to say the Enterprise rumour mill just starts turning from there.

[criminalamnesia]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

summary: Nikolai confronts you about unspoken feelings.

warnings: fluff, no use of y/n, not proofread, no gendered pronouns used (that I know of), grisha!heartrender!reader

author’s note: dancing with our hands tied by taylor swift inspired this! also listen I love zoya and nikolai but nikolai is just sooooooo ksjfjsjs I wanted to write a reader insert for him.

—

What you had with your captain was something no one understood– not even the two of you.

Sturmhond– or Nikolai, as you knew him in secret– was your friend. Your captain. But he was also something more.

He was a rogue ship, and you were a lighthouse guiding him home. He was a dangerous sea, threatening to drown you if you tested your luck– and oh, how you were so close to seeing what would happen if you did.

You shouldn’t even know his true identity. But, as fate would have it, he needed a heartrender with a specific set of skills that you just happened to have, and you needed an escape.

You were his tailor– disguising his appearance and turning him into the infamous Sturmhond. That was the only reason you were allowed to see him without his mask– you were the one to put it back together.

“You’re not surprised?” He had asked you the first night your services had been requested.

The ginger hair of Sturmhond had faded. The crooked nose had straightened, but the same smug grin was still present.

“No,” you had said. “I know that heartbeat. I knew it was you a mile from your ship.”

That took him aback. How did you know his heartbeat?

You had laughed, your eyes twinkling with something he found mesmerizing. He didn’t know you– he was sure of it. He wouldn’t forget a face like yours.

One of your hands was on his shoulder, holding him still. The other roamed his face, fingers dancing across his skin as you worked.

“You’re staring,” you stated, your fingers moving to his messy blond hair. “Trying to figure out how I know you?”

“Yes,” he admitted, eyes watching your face intently. “Were you at the Little Palace?”

You nodded. “I was.” The blond of his hair started to turn red. “But I spent most of my time in the Grand Palace.” You paused, your hand leaving his shoulder to move to his chin, tilting his head to the side. You could hear his heart beat a tad bit faster.

“The Darkling gave me to your mother, as he did with Genya. I was her apprentice. She taught me how to tailor.” You told him.

“I didn’t suffer the same fate she did, if that’s what you’re wondering. Your father had eyes for her, not me.” You couldn’t help the bitterness in your voice. Nikolai flinched.

“You were rarely home– but I met you once, when we were both still small. That’s why I know your heartbeat. The only one of the Royal Family to have a good heart– not a sour one. It stuck with me, I guess you could say.”

“I don’t remember you,” he admitted, and you gave a small laugh. His blond hair was almost completely red now.

“I wouldn’t expect you to. You’re not the only one being tailored, Captain. The First Army can’t take me back if they don’t recognize me, now can they?”

“Are you listening?”

Nikolai’s voice broke you from your thoughts. He was sitting on the bed in his quarters on the ship. You stood between his knees, your hands on his face as you changed him back into Sturmhond.

“Mhm,” you hummed. You weren’t. This routine was something you could do in your sleep, and truthfully, you found your mind drifting off more and more whenever Nikolai required your assistance. It’s not that you found his company dull– quite the opposite, actually. But you didn’t want him to know that.

“No you weren’t,” he gave a small chuckle, one of his hands moving up to grab one of yours. He pulled it from his face as he intertwined your fingers.

“Nikolai,” you hissed, pulling your hand from his grasp. “Do you want me to mess up? I was in the middle of reforming your nose.”

He sighed, his hand falling back to his lap as you raised yours once more. You avoided his eyes, knowing you wouldn’t like what you saw in them.

Between the two of you, he was the more open with his feelings. For the past few weeks, he had continuously tried to corner you and get you to talk about whatever the two of you were. To try and figure things out. You had successfully avoided him thus far, but you knew you were dancing on thin ice.

It was only a matter of time before he recruited one of the twins to subdue you while he forced you to listen. You wouldn’t put it past him, and you knew for a fact Tolya would help him. Curse that hopeless romantic.

“You’re insufferable. And exhausting,” he told you as you grasped his chin gently between your fingers, turning his face this way and that to examine your handiwork.

“I know. You tell me quite often,” you remarked, nodding to yourself as you moved to focus your sights on his hair.

He sighed. Silence engulfed the two of you. It was almost smothering, full of unsaid words and the tension between the two of you. You were suddenly aware of how close you were to him– his knees caging you in as you stood between his spread legs. His face in your hands, his hands now on your waist.

“We keep dancing around this,” he said. You didn’t reply, choosing to focus more intently on the roots of his hair. “The whole crew thinks we’re sleeping together.”

That caught you off guard. You gave a snort, rolling your eyes. “Of course they do. You call me to your quarters in the night, every week. You always stare at me, especially when you think I’m not looking. And you’re handsy– you’ve always got a hand on my back or my shoulder or something.”

Nikolai chuckled. “Well, you’re one to talk. Every time you laugh at something I’ve said, you grab onto my arm and go ‘oh Sturmhond!’. And don’t act like you don’t stare, too.”

“I do not say ‘oh Sturmhond’,” you said, looking down at him. He grinned that same crooked smile.

“I know you’re thinking it. Probably thinking some other things, too. Like how you’d like to–”

“Shut up, or I’m going to give you a black eye.” You hissed, pulling his hair harder than you should’ve.

He laughed. “You wouldn’t. You like my face too much.”

“Im sick of it, actually,” you remarked. “I see it everyday.”

“If that were true, you wouldn’t be here.” He replied.

“You say that as if you’d let me leave. I’m the only tailor you’ve got.”

He shook his head. “That’s not the reason I wouldn’t let you leave, and we both know it.”

You dropped your hands as the last of his blond turned red. Your job here was done. There was nothing stopping you from bidding him goodnight and excusing yourself to your own cot. You knew he would drop it and let you go without another word, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. You didn’t want to say anything.

“So now you’re keeping me prisoner?” You said, suddenly all too aware of his hands squeezing your waist.

“Maybe I am. At least until you admit you like me,” he said, and you scoffed.

“If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t be here–” you began, but he cut you off.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

He moved to stand. You tried to step back, but his hands on you kept you rooted to the spot. You looked up at him, heat rising to your cheeks. Your chests were touching now, and there were only inches between your lips and his.

“When are we going to stop playing this game?” He whispered, one of his hands moving from your waist to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“You like it too much to stop.” You retorted.

“I’d like honesty more,” he said, and you shook your head. “As much fun as playing cat and mouse is with you, I’m growing tired of chasing. And we both know you’re tired of running.”

His hands were on your hips as he swung you around the deck, a laugh on his lips as you clung to his shoulders. You couldn’t help but smile as he dipped you, your eyes meeting his. There were unspoken promises in his gaze– too many feelings, and you had to look away.

Others danced around you two as a few of the crew played some song you’d never heard on makeshift instruments. Laughter and conversation made it hard to think straight. Spirits were high– you’d all just succeeded in breaking through a Fjerdan blockade– and that called for a celebration.

“They’re all going to think we’re together,” you had told Nikolai as he grabbed your hand and pulled you to the dance floor. He had laughed, leaning in close to whisper “let them” in your ear.

He had kissed you for the first time that night, after the party had subsided and everyone was asleep but the two of you. You had been talking quietly, watching the stars and listening to the waves, and he had kissed you and you had melted.

“Nikolai..” you sighed, your hands moving to rest on his shoulders. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“I don’t care,” he told you, and his heartbeat was as steady as it had ever been.

“I do,” you told him, meeting his gaze. “You can’t play pirate forever. What happens when you go back to Ravka, back to your family? You can’t marry me. I’m nobody– not a princess, not a diplomat. I’m an escaped servant who knows too much and would be imprisoned or executed for escaping.”

“Privateer,” he corrected, and you rolled your eyes. “And I’m the second son– a bastard second son. I’m already a disgrace in their eyes,” one of his hands moved to the small of your back, his thumb rubbing circles into the fabric of your shirt. “I can’t disappoint them any more than I have.”

“It doesn’t matter what they think of you now, they still won’t let me anywhere near you.” You replied, and he shook his head.

“Why are we even talking about this?” He asked. “We’re not in Ravka. We’re in the middle of the ocean, and no one cares what we do.”

He was right. You were far from Ravka and his family and your pasts. You were someone new, and he was, too. You weren’t an escaped servant– you were Sturmhond’s first mate. You were his most trusted friend– besides the twins– and you were the one he wanted.

And you wanted him, too.

“I don’t care about details,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t care about families or consequences or rumors. I care about you, about that little smile you always get before you win at cards, about how you let me drag you onto the dance floor while the crew stares, and how you put up with me more than you should.”

You didn’t say anything, too stunned for words.

“I would do anything,” he began, his face slowly inching towards yours. “To dance with you again. To kiss you again. To not hide behind stolen glances and little jabs at each other.”

“Nikolai,” you murmured, your eyes flitting down to his lips.

“Yes?” He asked as your eyes found his once more.

“Just shut up.” You said, and you closed the gap between the two of you, your lips meeting his.

Maybe nothing he said would be true in the morning. Maybe he would realize this was all a big mistake, but you didn’t care.

He was right. You were tired of running, and you were so glad he was tired of chasing.

And as you kissed, that heartbeat that you’d remembered after all these years– that you’d always remember– soared.

And you knew he wasn’t lying.

[spirk-trek]

For the fic prompt thing: how about Spock coming out as gay/bi/ace to a pining Jim (who thinks that Spock is straight)?

Merry writing!!!🖖

hello my darling anon! thank you for the request :) this one is very short and sweet. i like to think spock assumes everyone already knows, so he doesn't expect it to matter. i hope you enjoy!

quick side note to the anon who requested genius!jim... i started writing it, hated it, started again, then watched a documentary that made me change the entire plot but it's turning into one of my favorite little creations ever. thank you (and all the others too) for your patience <3

without further ado, let's get spock out of the closet!

(or read here on ao3 if you prefer)

~*~*~*~*~

"Please, Jim. Spock n’ I here are the only ones who know a thing about exes."

Jim, McCoy, and Spock sat around the Captain’s desk in his quarters, enjoying a particularly potent blend of top-shelf beverages. At least, the two humans partook. Spock held onto a mug of tea himself, sipping steadily while Jim continued to tip a vibrant green liquid past his lips. He raised an angled brow at the doctor’s statement.

"Doctor?"

"Well,” he leaned forward, elbows resting on the surface before him, inadvertently nudging a nearby plant dangerously close to the edge. “That T'pring didn't exactly treat you to the warmest welcome, did she?"

"I have exes, Bones,” Jim chimed in, delayed by his moderate intoxication. He reached out to push the plant back to a more sturdy position before Spock could do so, rubbing one of its leaves between his fingers briefly.

“Yeah, but the ones you do got ‘re angels.” McCoy jabbed a finger into the space between them. “Not to mention, they’d all take you back ‘n a heartbeat if you asked. You know I’m right.”

Jim hummed, bobbing his head in consideration and tracing a circle around the edge of his glass. 

“Not Gary."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Gary’s dead."

"He's still my ex, no?” He picked up his glass again but did not drink from it. 

"And T'Pring is Spock's." The doctor turned his attention back to the science officer, a smile on his face Spock couldn’t discern a reason for. He set his mug down on the desk and clasped his hands together.

"T’Pring was correct in her assessment that our bond would not amount to what she is likely to achieve with Stonn. Her actions were logical."

"Oh, c’mon now.” McCoy waved a hand. “Logic. She'd’ve been lucky to have you."

"I continue to resist belief in the concept of luck, doctor."

Jim leaned closer then, brushing their shoulders together. Spock turned to address him, watching as a warm expression reached his eyes, flecks of soft pink light reflecting back from golden depths.

“I’ll convince you yet,” he murmured. Spock’s mind went blank in its attempt to formulate a response, making it a relief when the doctor cleared his throat. 

He shifted back, centering his posture. “Regardless, Captain.” 

“Jim,” he corrected. “Off duty, remember?”

He touched his glass to his lips but still did not drink. 

“Regardless, Jim.” In his peripheral vision, Spock saw McCoy finish his own drink in one swallow. “You misunderstand my meaning.”

“Then what did you mean?” The doctor’s voice was harsh from the burn of alcohol, blue eyes narrowed.

“I am not interested in sharing a life with her on Vulcan, as my home is no longer there.” 

Jim had propped his head against his hand, swirling his last dregs of green lazily with the other, waiting for him to say more.

“Of course, the issue is compounded by my lack of attraction to females.”

The glass slipped from Jim’s fingers, shattering against the floor. Spock raised both brows as the man then raised his hand toward McCoy and shushed him loudly.

“I didn't say anything!”

Jim leaned in toward Spock with urgency, nearly slipping off his chair in the process. Their knees touched, broken glass forgotten below them.

“Lack of... attraction?" He repeated. Spock noted a change in color to his cheeks, deepening beyond the usual pigment caused by alcohol consumption. 

“To females.” 

Spock nodded.

“Explain.”

“They do not arouse me,” he answered simply.

“Well, would you look at that?” McCoy was looking down into his empty glass. “I need another drink.”

“But, Spock.” Jim reached out for his shoulder as if the interruption had not occurred, grasping tightly to regain his attention. Spock raised a brow.

"Men." He whispered the word as if it contained some sort of secret. “Do they-”

McCoy turned from where he’d crossed the room to retrieve the bottle of brandy. Apparently too quickly, as his steps stuttered sideways.

"Jim!"

Jim’s hand on Spock’s shoulder jumped away, though he pulled his eyes away with significantly more difficulty.

"What?"

"You can't just-"

Spock interrupted. "It is a logical question."

"See?” Jim was smiling brightly when he turned back toward him. “He thinks I'm logical."

"Yeah, well, I think you're both stupid."

Spock crossed his arms over his chest, but Jim ignored the insult. He attempted not to notice the anticipation behind his expression, the way it pulled at him, made him consider reaching out as Jim so often did.

"Well, Mr. Spock?"

Spock blinked. "Males are, indeed, of primary interest to me."

"That's a whole lotta words to say you're gay."

McCoy had leaned back against the partition, glass to his lips. Jim covered his mouth to stifle a laugh, though it escaped in the form of a huff through his nose, eyes sparkling with mirth.

"I believe, gentlemen, that is my cue to take my leave."

"No!” Jim’s smile fell suddenly and he leaned back into Spock, hand reappearing at his shoulder.

“Stay? Please?”

He swallowed, blinking slowly. Spock was all too aware of the four centimeters his hand slipped down his arm before his grip tightened to stop it, as well as the six centimeter decrease in space between their faces. 

“You haven’t even finished your tea, after all.”

This was a correct statement. Jim’s hand slipped another two centimeters lower.

“Yeah, Spock. Stay,” McCoy encouraged, downing the rest of his drink once again. “I’m leaving.”

Spock only briefly glanced at him before looking back at Jim. 

“Very well, Captain. If you wish me to remain.”

“Jim, Spock. Jim. And yes. I do.”

[dustykneed]

--Really, Doctor?

[motleyfam]

It begins as it always does: palms sweating, shivers down his spine, echoes of the Ides of March…

(Okay, maybe not that.)

It actually begins with Marcie Danvers bursting into tears as she scrambles up onto her desk, shrieking something about how the walls and floor are crawling with spiders. Only, there are no spiders. And, even if there were, it doesn't explain Angela Sinclair desperately trying to open a window because ”the ship is going down!”

And then Jason’s phone lights up with a single text message from Tim:

My dad’s here

That's when Jason realizes what's happening.

Fucking fear toxin.

Between one rapid heartbeat and the next, the school has erupted into chaos.

[misscalming]

(Spock got completely fucking wiped out while in a small tinny boat and is living his best “castaway” (2001) life rn ) (( edit: excerpt from my fic ))

[illegalpaladin]

It's here! My NSFW McSpirk fic, "How Wisdom Might Be Loved," is finally up on ao3. If you remember that erotic hand touching scene I posted a while back, this is the full fic!

This was a labor of love, and I'm so excited to finally share it with everyone.

[clockwayswrites]

Another Hollowing Bones/Salt in the Bones AU Note:

Danny now has an undead gecko skeleton he raised from the beyond because everyone kept calling him an """evil necromancer""" and he just needed to see if he actually could. Back off Constantine, he's fine. So what if he's been alone for several months now.

He's fine.

He has a pet now.

Constantine, Squiggles. Squiggles, Constantine.

No biting, either of you.

(I again blame @mokulule and insomnia. Even if I started it this time.)

[arttsuka]

what if there were wax statues of kirk, spock and mccoy in the museum who also came to life at night 😂😂😂

In an alternative universe maybe...

Limited time exhibition for pride month or something

[petertingle-yipyip]

STRANGER (ii) - KAZ BREKKER

tags: @beekeepingageissome @shadowzena43 @nikfigueiredo @mp-littlebit // previously // next // i hope i didn’t miss anyone for tags! //

Pairing: kaz x davina rollins (enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 6,271

Summary: Nothing is simple in Ketterdam. Davina learns a hard lesson when trying to expand her snakes. Bloodied with a bruised ego, she think she finds help in an unlikely ally, only to have to run. Again.

The next few months were uneventful. You continued your usual pattern of withdrawals and reconnaissance. You watched Kaz and the Dregs, even visited Nina Zenik a few more times to make a better acquaintance with her. You had no plans for her specifically in your overall schemes, but having her vote of confidence may prove useful for your potential alliance. Plus, it didn’t hurt to befriend a Heartrender.

But she always asked the same thing. “Your boss hasn’t claimed her little ring yet, has she?”

And your answer was always the same. “No. It’s not the right time, I suppose.”

And it wasn’t. Your gang, while managing decently filled coffers, was minuscule. You were a small, yet arguably skilled group. And it wasn’t just Kaz Brekker you had to convince. Even though he was the harder of the two to persuade, you’d need enough of a footing to convince Per Haskell. Unless a time came when Kaz took full control, he was technically Haskell’s lieutenant, and the old bastard could veto any deal you made with Dirtyhands.

“We need to start venturing out.” You told your lieutenant. You were seated in your office, spinning the tip of your blade against your desk. You had done it so much you had worn a little divot in the wood. “We need to start doing jobs or running cons.”

“Word is there’s a gambling hall near the Crow Club that’s struggling.” Melli offered up eagerly. “It’s a solid location.”

“Then why is it struggling?”

“Advertisement?”

“Melli.” You let your blade fall to the wood top and stared your lieutenant in the eyes.

“I think the Dreg presence keeps them from really capitalizing.” She answered, tugging at her sleeve.

“And you think adding snake presence will do anything towards pacifying Brekker and his Crows? They don’t trust me or any of us, and if Brekker finds out who I really am, he’ll burn down any business attached to us. Whether or not that is before he drags me, kicking and screaming and bleeding, to my father’s feet, I couldn’t tell you.”

“He won’t.” She tried but you simply raised a brow. “You’re careful, Davina. If he hasn’t figured it out by now, after he took you captive, he won’t find out unless you let

him.”

You tapped your finger against your desk in thought. You stared at your discarded knife and wondered if it was worth the risk, especially after your last encounter with him. The hits to your ribs had broken two and left your lungs bruised. Getting them healed was a pain and if you thought hard enough, you could still feel that pain in your chest.

Out the corner of your eye, you saw Melli fidgeting with her sleeve again and you redirected focus to her idea, though you made a mental note to talk to her about that tell. If you left Melli to run the hall, it could maintain your anonymity while also bringing in funds outside of your father’s unintentional donations. It could also be an opportunity to get in good with Haskell.

“Go see what the owner might sell for…” You waved her off, trying to ignore her giddy smile. “If it’s not an arm and a leg or my eternal soul, I will consider it.”

“Yes!” She celebrated.

“But.” You said firmly and her giddy movements halted. “It’ll be your passion project, meaning you will be responsible for any and all failures or success, and you’ll be compensated accordingly from the profits. And if we take it, I intend to use it as a foot in the door with the Dregs.”

At that, her mouth fell open.

“I can offer Haskell a small percentage of our profit to allow us to operate within his boundaries.”

“That’ll make us look weak!”

“We’ll look approachable.” You countered.

“We don’t need Dreg approval.”

“We’ll need Haskell’s good graces if we want to get Kaz.”

“We don’t want Brekker. You do.”

“You’re right.” You nodded. “And while I respect your opinion as my lieutenant, I’m not debating this with you. Dime Lions won’t hesitate if they get a chance to wipe us out, neither will the Razor Gulls. Especially if either of them figure me out. You want the gambling hall?” You made a platform with your fingers as your elbows came to your desk. You rested your chin on said platform. “You have my terms, Melli.”

She opened her mouth, likely to argue, but thought better of it. Instead, she nodded with a heavy, defeated sigh and stomped out the door. You dropped back into your chair and rubbed your tired eyes.

If you had known how tiring it was to run a gang, plot revenge, and seek alliance from your father’s sworn enemy, you may have thought twice.

You decided you wanted something stronger than the poor quality coffee Melli kept warm in the main room. You tossed your cloak over your shoulders, fastened it at the base of your throat, and slipped out your window. You slid down the peak of the roof from the building practically leaning against yours and caught yourself on the usual broken guardrail at the edge. It hung off into a sliver of an alleyway and the small space became a small altar to Sankta Alina.

You were always careful not to disturb it when you made your landing. Once, you even drew your own sun on the wall around it.

You pulled your hood up and blended into the streets. You were lucky to set up business in a building that was near the edge of the Barrel. It was out of your father’s reach and that was what was most important. But in the nights you needed the comfort of bustling nightlife and drinks, you wished you had found something a few blocks closer.

At the end of the night, you were safe when you slept. You were warm every night. You were fed, not always well but you and your snakes never went without necessities. It was all you could ask for to start with, yet did nothing to quell the need for more.

You didn’t end up at any clubs or bars. Instead, you ended up walking the canals until you reached the one spot that you hated, yet always found a way back to. There was a small space where you could see Reaper’s Barge. It was far enough that you couldn’t make out any specific bodies, if there were any, and you couldn’t smell the rot or decomposition. It was just the salty tang the ocean always left in the air and the ever present mist hovering. You used to wonder if the Council of Tides had put that mist there, but you came to be thankful for it. It seemed to keep the worst of the dread away.

“When they said the monsters were in the shadows, it was supposed to be a story.” You threw over your shoulder after you felt the stare at your back. “You weren’t supposed to take it literally.”

“There’s enough truth in every story. Besides, I am the nightmare.” He answered. 

“So I’ve heard…” You nodded. “Some say you’ve got bones for hands, the flesh rotted away by all your misdeeds. Others that you don’t have hands at all but are just cursed with phantom fingers. I’ve also heard you have claws, so which story has your truth?”

“All of them. Or none of them. You can pick, really.”

You were surprised to find he seemed relatively docile and it made you wonder how long it would take for you to say something that provoked him. And part of you wanted to try.

He came and stood by your side.

“Are you here to slice me open again?” You joked and turned your head. He stared ahead and you stuck your arm out, exposing your bare forearm. “Go on then.”

He glanced down then and pushed your arm away with a sound that almost resembled a chuckle. Then his eyes found your face, tracing the length of scar from his cane. It burned with the memory and you almost felt the stream of blood down your face again.

“I think it adds a certain charm. Don’t you?” You tried another joke and he shook his head, looking away. You frowned to yourself and looked back to the water. “Why are you lurking in the shadows anyway?”

“Midnight stroll.” He answered calmly.

“With a leg like that? I don’t think so.” You scoffed. “Is it even midnight?”

As if on cue, the bells began to ring.

“Oh, Saints.” You muttered.

“Let that be a lesson.” He commented and you turned towards him. “I’m almost never wrong.”

“Almost? So it is possible.”

“Nothing is impossible.” He shrugged. “Improbable, yes, but not impossible.”

“The Wraith told me pride would be my downfall, yet here you stand.”

“As I’ve mentioned, Dear, I’ve already died.”

You nodded slightly and looked back to the water nearer the Barge. When you went there, your thoughts always strayed to Jordie. You wondered how long he had been in the water, if there was anything left of him. You wondered if Kaz had been in the water or did someone have to pry him off his brother’s body, screaming for the only family he had? You always shuddered at the thoughts.

“How is Davina?” Kaz asked suddenly.

Your eyes moved, head staying forward. You saw he was leaning his elbows on the railing. His leather clad hands were fidgeting with the cuff of his shirt beneath his coat, and the moonlight bounced off the silver crow-topped cane at his side.

“She worries.” You confessed. You had missed Kaz so dearly, so you were taking the small opportunity he had given you to just talk. “She’s not sure we’ll have enough to offer when she needs to make the deal. That’s part of why she doesn’t come out often.”

“Why she sends you, Melli?”

Your comfort was yanked away at his words and your hand began to creep towards the blade inside your collar. You were a fool to think there was anything other than malice in his intent. “What?”

“Yes.” He turned towards you and you took an instinctive step back. “You see, after our last run-in, I looked into the little clutch she’s built. Fortunately for her, not many know her roster, but her lieutenant’s name has a few whispers.”

You felt a swell of panic. If Melli’s name was known, how long did you have until yours was tied to your face? Was the gambling hall a ruse to lure Melli, thinking you would show, for capture? What would happen to Melli?

“I am not Melli.” You said firmly, maintaining eye contact even though you wanted to bolt to the gambling hall.

“Are you telling me-“ He lifted that cursed cane and you pulled the blade from the sheath. “-that my sources are wrong?”

“Not quite.” Another step back. “There is a snake named Melli and Davina trusts her, but I am not Melli.”

“Then who are you?”

“You're Kaz Brekker, aren’t you? Figure it out.”

In a swift movement, the blunt end of his cane slid under the fabric of your cloak, where the clasps met, and he pulled you forward. You stumbled slightly and his free hand grabbed your face, leather-clad fingers digging into your cheeks. You could’ve sworn you had felt the sharpness of the fabled talons he hid, but you knew it was your imagination.

Kaz was human. You knew that, but he was also dangerous.

“If you value your hand, I suggest you let go.” You threatened but with his grip your words were mumbled.

He just raised a brow and pushed you to step back. Your empty hand grabbed his forearm desperately as he bent you backwards over the railing. You felt yourself lifting off the ground, toes of your boots scraping the ground and you scrabbled for purchase.

You could feel the dull end of the cane pressing on the underside of your chin. You gripped his arm tighter and you saw a change in expression. His jaw tensed, the grip on your face faltered, his entire body seemed to go rigged. In that hesitation, you acted.

You found the upside down crow’s head and slammed your foot down on the beak. You felt it slide away before it clattered to the ground. You slashed your knife in a careless move, seeing it skate along the front of his hip. He winced slightly but you let go of his arm, holding to the railing instead. You put the knife’s handle between your teeth and braced the other hand against his chest.

You shoved as hard as you could and he stumbled back. You tumbled over the railing, slamming your side into it as it spun your arm in your socket. You glanced down and the darkness made the water seem hauntingly endless. You turned back to climb up and you saw the silver arc. You yelped and had to switch hands in a hurry, the impact of the crow’s head vibrating through the railing. You thought to yell at him for trying to break your fingers but he swung the cane again. In a panic, you simply let go and fell into the waters.

You were dripping wet when you got home. Your cloak was sticking to your chest, hood heavy against your forehead. Your knife was lost to the waters and your teeth were chattering, loose hairs sticking to your face.

“Send Melli to my office when she returns.” You told one of the snakes in the common room as you stomped away, leaving squishing sounds and wet footprints in your wake.

Almost immediately after you slammed the door, a light knock sounded before it opened. You turned and saw Melli.

“You’re unharmed?” You asked. You were worried but your voice was level. The cold waters had seeped the heat of your anger and worry away.

“Yes.” She nodded and you could see her trying to hide the smile. “The owner’s willing to sell, but he isn’t the majority owner. He says that’s why it doesn’t seem as profitable lately. Once ownership changed, he stopped advertising or putting in much effort other than paying the bills and bringing in enough for his family!”

“Fine. How much does he want?”

“5,000.”

You blew out a sigh and unclasped your cloak, draping the fabric over your desk with a wet thump. “I supposed it’s fair if he doesn’t own it all. What can you put in?”

“What?” Her smile fell.

“You wanted it. You’ll run in. You need to put in. I’ll cover some and the snakes’ coffers will do the rest. So what can you put in?”

“Um.” She tugged her sleeve and you glared at the nervous movement of her hand. “Maybe… 1200?”

“Good. I can give 1800, and then the other two wi-“

“If you put in more than me, doesn’t that undermine what I put in?”

“First.” You held up a hand. “Don’t cut me off, Melli. I’ve had a horrid night, if you couldn’t tell, so I’m in no mood.”

She closed her mouth tightly and nodded.

“Second, it’s not about you or me putting in more. It’s about lessening the strain on our gang’s funds. We’ll meet tomorrow night with him. Now, who’s the majority owner?”

“You won’t like it.” She sighed.

“Who, Haskell? Because I swear if I have to deal with Brekker again so soon.”

“You saw Dirtyhands?” She quirked a brow. “I suppose that explains why you look like a wet cat.”

“Yes, and he is continuing the infuriating habit of making my life difficult. He nearly broke my fingers before throwing me into the canals. And he thinks I’m you.”

“What?” She laughed.

“He found out your name as my lieutenant and he thinks my hooded charade is you, which means you need to be more careful for a while with your name. Understood?”

“Of course.” She began fiddling with her sleeve. “Do you still want an alliance?”

“I want to watch my father suffer.” You said plainly, leaning your palms flat against your desk. “I want to take from him the same he took from me as a child, and if it takes wooing Kaz Brekker - who wants the same thing, mind you - into some sort of partnership, so be it. Now for Gods’ sakes, Melli, quit picking at your cursed sleeve and be a lieutenant! Who’s the majority owner?”

Her hands folded behind her back and she righted her posture. She drew her shoulders back and lifted her chin.

“Pekka Rollins.”

“Truly?” You smiled and she nodded. “Well, maybe this is a good idea after all.”

The next night, you dressed for the first public appearance of Davina Rollins since her disappearance. You left your hair loose and left your cloak. Instead, you wore a fitted vest, similar to a corset but with thicker straps and less restriction of your breathing. It was another Grisha made item but this one had been far cheaper than your cloak. You had gotten it from a Fabrikator at port who had deserted the Second Army so she was willing to give it away for practically nothing. It had several knife sheaths and was damn near impenetrable.

You wore it over a dark blue long sleeved button up, tucked neatly into your pants, with two knives tucked into their homes. You wore your usual boots and added a pair of black leather gloves. The accessory made you think of Kaz and you found yourself wondering why he had added the gloves. Was it simply for mystery or something more?

You shook the thought away and reached for the last thing you needed. A dark piece of fabric that you had cut and sewn into a makeshift mask. It would cover the lower half of your face and loop over your ears before you pinned it into your hair. The hooded cloak could hide most of what you did, but you needed a statement with a true appearance.

Well, as true as you could risk.

Your deal with the man was easy enough. Paperwork for the sale would be submitted in the morning and you had him send word to your father that he was selling and the new owner wouldn’t pay him anything. You also had him add that you would be at his doorstep at midnight. Melli tried to talk you out of it, but your own spite drove you to it.

“You should meet in neutral territory. Is that what that square is for?” She reasoned and gestured towards the area most deals between gangs were made.

“I don’t know enough about the way it works there.” You shook your head. “Besides, it’s too open. Stadwatch can be bought, people can turn. I won’t risk it.”

“It’s riskier doing this!”

“Well, I’m sure dear old Dad will be too shocked to try to kill me.”

“Davina.”

“Go home, Melli. You know your tasks if I don’t return.”

“Abandon the revenge against Rollins. Forget allying with the Dregs. Make our own name.” She listed with a nod to punctuate each command. “I still don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to. The deal is the deal.”

You were ushered into your father’s office quickly. Two large Dime Lions stood post and your father kept seated at his desk. You crossed your arms and your fingers grazed the handle of the blades. You were glad to know they were easy to reach.

“What business?” He finally spoke.

Hearing his voice sent a chill through you. He sounded the same, yet completely foreign. He had no warmth towards you, no yearning or longing. He wasn’t your father. Just the Barrel Boss, head of the Dime Lions, Pekka Rollins.

“Is that how you speak to your daughter?” You tried and raised a brow. “The power you claim to have has made you cruel.”

“Am I to believe you’re Davina?” He laughed. “My daughter wouldn’t hide. She’d face me as she is.”

“I wouldn’t hide?” You cocked your head. “Papa, I’ve been hiding for years. Who do you think has been building the snakes that have been making neat little dens all across your precious Ketterdam?”

You thought about taunting with the account, but if you lost those funds, your gang might drown unless the gambling hall proves fruitful.

“Snakes.” He spat. “Vile little creatures.”

“Maybe we’re more alike than I wanted to believe.”

A Dime Lion kicked at the back of your knee and you fell. Your father came around his desk and knelt in front of you, jerking your head towards him by your chin.

He stared into your eyes, scanned your face, looked at your hair. He was looking for some resemblance and you hadn’t realized how much you had changed until then. Yes, you had changed your hair, but also the set of your shoulders had changed. You didn’t cower from eye contact. Your voice matured. You held your head higher. Your round, childish cheeks had sharpened.

Even under your mask, after staring enough, he recognized you.

“I thought you were dead, Davi.” He said softly. “Where were you?”

“I tumbled with the Reaper.” You smiled beneath your mask. “I knew my time was coming when I left. I could either die at twelve or at ninety three. You’d be surprised how many thought I was so pretty, they bought a room.”

His mouth opened for a response but you spoke again.

“Yes, my tongue’s grown quite sharp with spite in my time away. I sold off my pride, figured it was easier to focus on that price you put on my head. Ego never pays so I found men who would.”

“You went into the Pleasure Houses?” He sounded disgusted.

“There was no one I wouldn’t fight to get what I wanted. Can’t you see? Worthless parents make stupid kids. Your conscience never compromised, not even when it killed the only two friends I had growing up. Looks like the apple didn’t stray very far.”

“You aren’t my daughter.” He shook his head. 

“I am Davina Rollins.” You said firmly. A hard right hook that you didn’t expect hit your jaw.

“I am the only daughter of Pekka Rollins.” A left hook that made your head jerk.

“I am the leader of the snakes.” You saw the next hit coming so you leaned away. “And I will not cower from you.”

You could taste the blood in your mouth while you got back to your feet. You made a show of dusting off your pants before you ran your tongue over your bloodied teeth. You turned your head, pulled your mask down, and spat on the floor, scanning the room to see it was still the two thugs at the door before replacing your cover.

Them plus your father. You might be able to do it. You had two blades but no pistol. Disarming one of the three was a possibility.

“That how you greet your children now?” You commented and adjusted your shirt sleeves. “I feel bad for the boy.”

“Do not speak of my son!” He shouted. “You abandoned your family!”

“Maybe.” You nodded. “And I miss my mother dearly, but that was all I left behind in that house.”

“Watch how you speak to me, Daughter. You may bear my name but you gave up your place here.”

“No, you never intended a place for me here. I was part of your schemes, always, but your empire was never going to be mine… You think I didn’t hear your whispered conversations with Mama? Maybe that’s part of why I decided to build my own. Not why I left, of course, but I’m sure we’ll get to that.”

“Why are you here?” He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“I came to face you.” You explained, putting your arms out to either side dramatically. “As I am, of course. I’m taking possession of that neat little gambling hall a few blocks from the Crow Club.”

“That pisspot?” He laughed. “It brings in pocket change, Davi.”

“First, stop calling me that. You have no right.” You said firmly and you saw one of the men make a move toward you. Your head snapped in their direction. “If you like the bones of your leg intact, do not kick me again.”

He hesitated but stepped back so you faced your father.

“Second, if it’s so poorly, you should be glad I’m taking it off your hands.”

“I keep it as a thorn in Per Haskell’s side.” He explained, waving his hand through the air. “A reminder that I am everywhere.”

“Save me your dramatics, please.” You rolled your eyes. “The paperwork will be submitted and you, dear Dad, will not be involved in my new project.”

“Why do you want it so bad?”

“Profit.” You shrugged. “Isn’t that what it’s all about in Ketterdam? In Ghezen’s name and such.”

A faint explosion sounded from outside and you wondered what gang was riled up now.

“That place won’t feed your snakes.” He shook his head.

“I didn’t come for advice.”

“And yet clearly you need it, Little One. How about this? You bring your snakes and come here. We will welcome them with open arms and I can teach you how to truly become what you wish.”

“No.” You said flatly. “My snakes are mine and mine alone. I’d rather die than ever consider your help.”

“You’re a child.” He laughed, the condescension heavy in his words. “You won’t best me.”

A shadow passed by the office window and you could’ve sworn you had seen a glint of silver.

“Like calls to like. I’m sure I’ll make allies.” You answered.

You heard a pistol draw behind you.

“Tell your man to stand down.” You warned and your hand inched towards your blade.

A second pistol.

“You should’ve called to meet in neutral territory, Davi.” He sighed, then signaled to the men behind you. “It was nice to see you, one last time.”

You felt the hand on your arm and you reacted. You freed your knife and slashed, cutting a deep line across the man’s face. You whirled and saw the pistol raising. You gasped and dropped to the floor, the bullet landing somewhere in the wall. You reached forward and grabbed the man’s pant leg, yanking it towards you till he fell to his back and the gun fell away.

You sprung for it but the heavy foot of the other pinned your hand down. You cried out and you felt the squish of your flesh against the ground. Your other hand guided your knife along the back of his ankle, slicing through the tendon, and the man’s leg gave out. You rolled away and clutched your hand to your chest.

With heavy breaths, you jumped up and held firmly to your knife, the other hand still pulsing from the pain.

Another explosion, this one close enough to rock the building. You glanced towards the window but you saw your father pointing a gun at you.

“Oh Saints.” You complained, missing the safety of your cloak. “All this trouble just to kill me, Papa?”

“It’s not personal, Davi.” He almost looked regretful.

“Feels personal.”

You threw the knife in your hand before he fired. The blade buried itself to the hilt in his shoulder and it made his arm jerk, his shot going off course and he fell into his chair. The bullet burrowed into your own shoulder - of course it managed to miss the protection - and you couldn’t help but cry out. The force of the bullet made your arm jerk back and you stumbled towards the wall behind you. You slammed your hand against the wound as the pain shot down your arm.

You took in the scene ahead of you and quickly plotted a way out. There was only one Dime Lion standing, still armed. The fallen one had dropped his gun, as did your father. You could see he was torn between helping your father and going after you. You, however, needed to get out. You figured the gunshots would’ve called more Lions on the other side of the door, and the office was too high for you to take the window, so you needed a pistol of your own. You took a deep breath, clenched your jaw, and dove for the closest gun.

As soon as your wounded shoulder hit the ground, you winced sharply but refused to let it stop you. You held the pistol tightly, ignoring the way it felt slick in your bloodied hand, and dared a glance at your father. His Dime Lion had decided to help him instead of pursue you so you ran.

You burst through the door and found a surprisingly empty hallway. You didn’t hesitate, barreling down and taking the stairs two at a time. Every step sent a jolt through your arm and you cursed your father’s name each time. When you made it to the ground floor, that’s where you found the rest of his gang.

They were shooting at something in the streets but a few saw you come into the room. They pointed and opened their mouths, but your bullets came faster than their voices. You shot at their chests, bullets piercing lungs and hearts, before you ditched the gun and climbed through a nearby window. It took you into an alley and you crept along the building till you reached the street.

Habitually, you reached for your hood but found nothing. You sighed and ran a hand over your face, smearing the still wet blood along with the sweat on your forehead. The cold feeling of the leather was a stark contrast to your burning skin and the searing pain, so different you flinched away from it, but it also reminded you of Kaz. You groaned slightly and wiped your sleeve across your eyes instead.

You shook the thought and peered out into the streets. Your meeting had gone completely array and with the fire fight and explosions in the street, you needed a new way home. You took a few steps out and looked deeper into the night, trying to figure out what they were shooting at. You saw nothing, not even return fire. Curious, you dared another couple steps.

“Hey!” Someone yelled. “It’s Davina!”

“Get her!”

“Don’t kill her! The boss wants her alive!”

No he doesn’t.

You turned and ran. The pumping of your arms caused more blood to seep from your shoulder and you tried to ignore the pain. You looked over your shoulder just once and saw three of the Dime Lions in pursuit. They were smaller than the build your father usually employed, but you assumed it made them better for chases like the one you were currently involved in.

You knew you couldn’t go straight home. You’d lead them right to your snakes. There was a smaller place closer, a safe house that you had commandeered from the Razor Gulls before you had your current building. It wasn’t much but it was safe enough, with what you’d need to clean and bandage your shoulder.

You made a mental note to put out word you were looking to employ a Healer.

As you were running, a hand grasped your wrist and pulled you into an alley. You screamed but their other hand covered your mouth as you were pinned to the wall. Their body was pressed lightly against yours, your back flat against the wall, while they watched the streets instead of looking at you.

Your eyes were wide until you recognized who it was.

Kaz.

You sighed deeply in a strange sense of relief. Kaz was in no way your ally but at least he was familiar and unlikely to kill you in the alley. You two stayed huddled in the alley until the Lions ran by, shouting about which direction you went.

When you could no longer hear their footfalls, he backed away.

“You’re bleeding.” He said with a frown.

“I’m aware.” You said through heavy breaths. “Hurts like hell too, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t.”

You rolled your eyes slightly. “Why are you here, anyways?”

“Are you really questioning me when I just saved you?”

“Yes, because you don’t just appear when someone needs saving, Kaz.”

“I heard you were meeting with your father. I wanted to see if it was true.” He said with a small shrug, as if you should’ve known.

“And do you believe it?” You asked.

He stared at you in study for a minute. His eyes seemed to take the same path your father’s did. Your eyes, your nose, your face shape, your hairline. He looked you up and down before the ghost of a smile graced his lips and he gave you a small nod.

“Hello, Davina.” He finally answered and you smiled behind your mask.

“Hello, Kaz.” You replied, relief plain in your voice. “It’s good to finally talk.”

“We should get you to a Healer.” His tone changed and you saw a shift in his body language as well. Tension, control, like elastic ready to snap. Your brows furrowed and suddenly felt no relief in his sudden appearance.

And he hadn’t answered what he was doing there.

“No.” You said carefully. “I don’t want to go to Nina Zenik.”

“I didn’t say Zenik.”

“You didn’t have to. Why are you here?”

“I’ll explain later, but you won’t hear any of it if you decide

to bleed out in an alley.” He snapped.

“You’ll explain now.” You pulled your blade. You knew he was right. You were still losing blood, though it had slowed. You were tired, light-headed, growing weary with every step. Your bulleted arm was growing heavy, more useless with every pump of blood that left. But you would die fighting the Bastard of the Barrel if that’s what it took. “Or you can bleed out with me.”

“Dammit, Davina.” He sighed. Another figure appeared at the entrance to the alley and you whirled on them quickly.

You grabbed their shirtfront and slammed them against the wall. His hands went up in surrender as your blade threatened his throat.

“Woah!” He said quickly. “You wouldn’t slit my throat if I’m unarmed, would you?”

It took you a second but you recognized him.

“You’re Jesper Fahey. You’re never unarmed.” You countered.

At that, he grinned widely. “True, but you can see my hands, Love.” His eyes darted to your shoulder. “And I think you’ve already taken one bullet tonight.”

You shoved off him and glared back to Kaz.

“Oh, Saints. Kaz!” Jesper complained. “You shot her?”

“I did no such thing.” He said plainly. “The idiot got herself shot somewhere else.”

“A parting gift from my father.” You spat. “If you were just here to verify I was alive, why bring your sharpshooter?”

“If you think I’m daft enough to plot against the Dime Lions alone, then you’re a fool.” Kaz countered and you didn’t miss the hint of condescension.

It made you think the figure from before wasn’t just shadows. “No, I suppose that’s my job, as you do so like to point out.”  You looked to the rooftops.

“The Wraith here too?” You asked.

“She’s good.” Jesper praised. “Maybe we shouldn’t-“

“Shut up.” Kaz muttered. “Davina, Dear, we really should go.”

“What were the explosions?”

“Wylan’s handiwork.” Jesper said proudly. “Nothing dangerous, moreso just sound and some bright lights.”

“It shook my father’s building.” You deadpanned.

“Well.” He grinned again, his face alight with the thrill of a fight. “Maybe a little dangerous.”

“This wasn’t curiosity.” You turned on Kaz, his expression as unreadable as ever but he gave up the charade. “This was a heist. You wanted to kidnap me. Was my lieutenant not enough? Breaking her ribs, throwing her into the canals, that wasn’t enough?”

“You think me a fool?”

“You don’t want to know what I think you are.”

“Your lieutenant is a girl named Melli. She was visiting a small gambling hall last night and, funny enough, she didn’t wear that little cloak. And her hair was a different color, different cut, and her face was rounder than the hooded one. So, either you have multiple lieutenants or the girl you send out is someone else. Which is it, Dear?”

He knew something. You could see it in his eyes, even in the minimal light. You could hear it in his voice. He knew more than he was claiming, and he wanted to goad you into a confession.

“I’m going home.” You said firmly, though you could feel your hand with your blade trembling. “I’m hurt. I’m tired. I’m pissed off and in no mood to fight with you, Brekker.”

“No, we’re due for quite the chat.”

You sighed and tucked your blade away. You looked to Jesper, who was a bit uncertain of what to do next.

“Sorry about this.” You muttered.

His brows furrowed and as he opened his mouth to speak, you punched him in the throat. He coughed and grabbed his throat, so you grabbed his forearms and shoved him at Kaz. Both men fell in a heap so you took off running towards your little safe house.

You’d clean your wound, pry out the bullet, sleep off the worst of the pain. In the morning, you’d meet with your unnamed Healer before you returned home and planned what the hell you were going to do next.

[wwillywonka]

i always thought the forced mind meld scene in undiscovered country was out of place and, more importantly, wildly out of character for spock. i think that's the general consensus from the fandom as well, but i also feel like not a lot of people have actually seen this movie or thought deeply about it considering the lack of analysis i've been able to find on it. but the more i think about it, the more it makes so much sense that spock would do something that extreme all in the name of protecting not only jim and the enterprise crew but starfleet as well. jim even says it to him later in the film, "we're both extremists," and spock wonders if they're so used to falling into roles and routines around each other that they've lost the ability to combat something completely different and unique that might come along to challenge them. it is this predictably that valeris was able to use to manipulate him, to get him to trust her, to get him to help her rise in rank in starfleet. because he saw her as everything he could never be: a full vulcan, completely and totally logical and dedicated to her work, without emotional attachment. of course he doesn't regret his friendships with the enterprise crew but still, there is a small part of him that will forever want to be more vulcan. we know that from unification. how long did spock know valeris? all the way back to her first academy days? how long was she his student, his favorite student? how much time and effort did he put into helping her, all the while blind to her ulterior motives? how the hell is he supposed to trust his own judgement now?

she's destroyed the sanctity of starfleet, the place spock escaped to as a teenager to find inner peace and purpose, the place that has given him a home and friends and people who trust him, who would follow him into anything if he asked.

and now he's become a danger to the enterprise crew. he's become a danger to jim and leonard.

and so, the forced mind meld scene comes not from anger towards valeris alone but a deep anger towards himself. and in his anger and his shame at being angry in the first place and his shame for feeling that shame, of course he would do anything to protect his friends, even if it means violating and sullying the most important ritual in vulcan culture.

it's still horrible, he still shouldn't have done it. but it makes so much sense in the wider context of his character and thus makes for a strong and effective plot choice.

[heatherfield]

♪ I don’t want you, but I need you. Don’t want to kiss you, but I need to… ♪ The heady notes of the music swirled around them, stoking the ache in Brom’s chest as he and Matilda drifted closer together. In some ways, he still felt like he was walking on thin glass, like he needed to be careful with every step in case he shattered this delicate new thing with Matilda—something that he was desperate not to mess up.

Walk Me Home: A "Headless" Fic, Chapter 14 [ read | watch ] ↳ art by @booigi-boi, commissioned by @ilikecrocssuckit – thank you!!

[smolandweirdwriter]

unpopular opinion but i really think inej would change the name of her ship. she told kaz herself that she didn't want to be the wraith anymore. she and her ship would be the Jackal, the suli's holy animal

[littlest-w01f]

MAIN MASTERLIST

Hello, people of Tumblr, welcome to my home, please be nice during your visit. Constructive criticism is welcome, and so is cash/credit <3 Thank you for spending your time on my page :) Feel free to request moodboards of your favs, not really ready to accept fics requests right now

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

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Flames and Darkness - OC x Eris Vanserra

Blooming Flowers - OC x Rhysand

Meeting in Grey - OC x Nyx

THE EMPYREAN MASTERLIST (coming soon)

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Shining Light - OC x Xaden Riorson

GRISHAVERSE MASTERLIST (coming soon)

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Xinqic - OC x Nikolai Lantsov

Wicked Dark - OC x Kaz Brekker

MY LADY JANE MASTERLIST (coming soon)

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LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MASTERLIST

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MISCELLANEOUS

Kinktober 2024

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Birthday Celebration