#hitmen everywhere

[imsiriuslyreading]

Thousands Of Good Deeds

“He’s getting up. Why is he getting up?”

“What do you mean he’s fucking getting up? I thought you just killed him?”

“I did! Fuck, Barty, I shot him in the head! ” Evan yelped into the phone, beads of sweat sitting on his forehead, now.

“Well, unless he’s got a skull made of reinforced fucking steel, he’s not fucking dead, Evan,” Barty scoffed. How the fuck did someone manage to bugger up a clean head shot?

“He’s… getting up. He’s getting up!” Evan was panicking now. How had he fucked this up?

“Get him again! You must’ve missed him. Rosier, fuck me, I can’t believe you fucked this up. Wolf is gonna kill us if you let a corpse walk out of here,” Barty said, and ran a hand through his hair, screwing his eyes tightly shut.

“Fuck me, Barty, it’s like an episode of The Walking Dead , help me! He’s fucking coming right at me!” Evan whisper-shouted through the phone.

The line went dead, and Barty froze. He wondered if he’d have to break protocol and head into the warehouse to kill an apparent zombie. Definitely not something he signed up for. Also, it sounded like something out of a fucking nightmare.

Barty heard a gunshot, followed by another, and then the rapid succession of two more. Fuck the protocol, he had to check on Evan. He never should’ve trusted he could do this alone.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I an asshole because I told someone to shut the hell up about his autism?

Now, please read this before making your vote.

I (21 F) started going back to school recently, I signed up for classes late because it took so long for the paperwork and processes to be finalized. I was taking a speech class in the morning and we had to do a group project in class. Now, I spoke with the professor and told her I did not do well in group projects because I either get treated like literal crap or I do all the work. She said she didn't care, either I join a group or get a 0. Someone (20 M) was watching, we'll call him Ed for clarity. I asked if I could join Ed's group and he said yes. I tried being really nice to Ed and waited for our group members to meet with us after class. He showed me which music he liked and I said it was nice. So, during the entire time period of this project I would meet a lot with my group mates and we'd do the project. It was very difficult because professor wanted over 10 resources and a certain length for the report, then to top it off a PowerPoint we'd be presenting too. Ed did a lot of things to make me feel very uncomfortable, but my group mates ignored it and didn't say anything. He'd talk about how he visited the dark web and looked into hitmen. Then he showed us an intro to a porno. I felt very uncomfortable and mentioned it to the other girl in our group, she said she would talk with the other boys in our group about it (they all had been friends since highschool except Ed) , she said the assignment did require us to find an intro that was terrible, but maybe a porno intro was too much. The assignment in question was basically a research project about why introductions are very important. They ended up choosing some 90's tv show intro, I don't remember which one it was, just that the show got 2 seasons and the intro was too stereotypical for the time. During the time Ed would send me random "hi"s and he added/followed me on all my social media. He would comment on everything and would try to make conversations on them when I wouldn't text back. I kept the texts as bland as possible. Ed just gave me a bad vibe and kept doing shit to make me uncomfortable. Now here's where the autism part comes in. I was talking to a guy I had a crush on instagram and I guess Ed noticed. So Ed basically calls me and asks if I'm not attracted to him because he has autism. I said what the hell and hung up. It made me feel so uncomfortable then he started bringing up his autism on all my photos, posts, tweets, you name it. I didn't know what to do anymore. Ed kept blowing up my phone too. He'd message me every 5 mins and would get mad when I wouldn't answer right away. So back to my crush, Ed messaged him I wasn't interested in dating him! Like dude! So my crush says he doesn't have time for immaturity and blocks me despite me trying to defuse and apologize hundreds of times for that. So I asked for some advice and basically I got that his autism was making him act like that. I don't want to sound ableist, I'm sorry if I give off that impression, but enough was enough. I told him to fuck off or else I'd get the authorities and school involved since what he was doing was harassment. He said he can't harass since he has autism so I told him to shut the hell up about his autism since it wasn't a "get out of jail" card so i finally blocked him everywhere. I don't know if I'm being an asshole or maybe I'm just not patient or equip to handle Ed? Even then, I am in no shape or form attracted to Ed nor was I ever. Now I just never want him bothering me again.

[kasagia]

Would've, Could've, Should've...

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/Darkling x heartrender! Kaz Brekker's sister! reader Summary: Your life would have been completely different if it wasn't for Aleksander. You regret meeting him... but saints only know that he is the one who can make you feel this way... Warning(s): angst, death, blood, violence, manipulation, falling in love with the wrong person, toxic love, Aleksander is a little manipulator and the reader enters his web, the reader rebels, they love and hate each other, kind of dark! reader? Inspired by "Would've, Could've, Should've" - Taylor Swift SPECIAL FOR 10K LIKES AND 500 FOLOWERS 💙🖤 Thank you once again!! Words count: 11,6k+ Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @morrigan-crowmwell ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

If you would've blinked then I would've Looked away at the first glance If you tasted poison, you could've Spit me out at the first chance

You were a thief and a paid killer. In Ketterdam you were known as the sister of Dirtyhand, Dreg's second bastard. But that was before you met him... or before you were commissioned to kill him.

You were in a bind then, a messed-up situation. Your elder brother, Jordie, died, and your younger brother, Kaz, was your dependent. You both had to work hard to earn money for food and a dry (but often cold) place to sleep.

That's why you packed up. You left your brother with the promise to return and provide him with a place to stay while you were away. You exchanged as many letters with him as you could. You learned that he was doing well in Ketterdam, slowly becoming the head of one of the most important gangs. You helped him build his "empire" as much as you could, travelling around the world and making money by killing your targets.

But everything went to hell and your life changed completely on the night of a winter fete in Ravka.

You had a very simple task.

Disguised as a servant, you were to deliver the glass with poison to the Darkling, mingle with the other servants, and leave. None of the nobles ever paid attention to the service. Especially when you cover your face with makeup, making it look so dull and ordinary that no one will remember it.

But Darkling was different... you were supposed to find out about it soon.

Everything was going well. You walked over to him and handed him a poison glass, avoiding eye contact with him. But as you walked away, glancing discreetly to see if he raised his glass to his lips, you noticed he gave you a second glance.

You shivered.

He stared at you intently without even blinking. You felt mesmerized under his gaze, like you couldn't take your eyes off him even if you tried... but you didn't even want to try to save yourself from the gaze of his dark eyes.

And just as he was about to raise the cup to his lips, a commotion ensued around you. One of the paid hitmen you worked with has been identified.

The general threw down his glass and gave chase to the hitman. You took this opportunity to run out of the ballroom unnoticed.

You were lucky the general didn't drink the poison after all. If he did, it would be harder for you to leave Ravka and go back to your brother, since you all got disclosed.

In retrospect, you'd rather he'd drank that poison... maybe he'd have gotten rid of you at that first night.

If I was some paint, did it splatter On a promising grown man? And if I was a child, did it matter If you got to wash your hands?

You ran through the corridors until you bumped into one of the people who worked with you. You were breathing heavily from running from the pursuers of the First and Second Army.

"These Grishas dogs are everywhere. They caught Kostrov. We have to get the fuck out of here before their crazy Black General catches us too."

"Kostrov is caught? Shit. He'll turn us in before we leave the walls of this damn palace." you knew very well that if that was true, it was only a matter of time before the man revealed your hiding places. You must run away from there. And as soon as possible.

The voices of the soldiers and their quick steps rumble around you.

"Please tell me you have a plan."

"I always have a plan." you answer confidently and take her by a hand. You lead her through the corridors of the Little Palace until you are outside.

You are heading towards the exit gate when Grishas suddenly appear in front of you. You both stop, looking uncertainly in their direction. Fortunately for you, your disguise makes them a little less suspicious.

"You, get back to the Grand Palace. It's not safe here, servant." they said to you. "You're coming with us." they say, taking your co-worker by the hand.

They drag her towards the Little Palace, but she doesn't give up that easily. She breaks free from their grip, hugs you from behind and puts a dagger to your throat.

"One step closer and I'll kill her." Grishas' joined hands, ready to use a small science. You feel her dagger pierce your neck gently. Blood drips onto your collarbone just like the drops of your sweat. From this position, you can practically feel both her and your heart racing.

"What are you doing?" you whisper, angry at her.

"We'll both get out of here, or no one does." she growls furiously in your ear, backing away slowly. The dagger digs deeper into your skin as she realises there may be no way out of this situation.

You let out a loud scream, and suddenly her grip on you loosens. She falls dead to the ground, and you are right next to her. You press your hand against your throat and try to stop the bleeding. Your eyes study her lifeless body intently.

There are no injuries. No blood. No wound. One of the heartrenders must have stopped her heart.

You look around at the Grishas who are now coming towards you, and in a panic, you realise that there is not a single red kefta among them...

If it wasn't one of them then...

You shake as an unlikely thought comes to your mind, and the world slowly begins to blur into blurs as you feel the blood flow more freely from your neck and seep into your clothes. The dull, thumping beats buzz in your head, making it even more difficult for you to remain conscious.

Black material flashes before your eyes. You feel someone's strong arms lift you up. And before you completely lose your consciousness, you can feel HIS heart pumping warm blood rapidly. Yours is getting slower and slower.

And you wish you had died in his arms right then, before it all started...

A few hours later, you wake up in the Little Palace infirmary. You find out that you are a heartrender, and with your scream, you knocked down not only the woman who worked with you on this assignment (luckily no one knows about your identity and what you were really doing in the palace), but also the Grishas who caught you both (for the second time, the saints took watch over you, so you only knocked them unconscious for a moment).

Ah, and the Black General brought you here himself… the day like others.

Ooh, oh All I used to do was pray Would've, could've, should've If you'd never looked my way I would've stayed On my knees

You were kneeling in the chapel. The stained-glass windows and images of saints gave you a kind of solace in a strange way.

You often prayed to the saints. Even though there weren't many believers in Ketterdam in anything but profit and money.

You believed that they were somehow listening to the prayers of the people on earth… you just didn't know why they chose to so painfully ignore the cries for help for the lifes of your family.

You clutched a letter from Kaz in your hand. The tears had long since stopped falling from your eyes and had already dried on your face. After all, how many hours could you cry while sitting on one of the pew?

You didn't want to leave him like this. He was your little brother, and you loved him more than anything. Yet he threw it in your face for choosing your own comfort over his well-being. That you wanted to join the ranks of saints, forgetting who you were and leaving behind your past.

As if staying in the Little Palace was your choice.

You were thrown into the role of Grisha. You didn't even know how to control it... yet you were able to hold back thousands of hearts without any training or learning about small science.

You were capable of much more than an ordinary heartrender. You could manipulate the blood. Move people at your will, controlling the movement of blood through their veins and into their muscles, manipulating people's bodies to your will.

And you found out all this in just a few weeks.

You closed your eyes and rested your forehead on your joined hands. You were tired. Tired of being forced to accept a life you never wanted. You were a thief and a paid killer. Not any Grisha.

In the distance to your right, you heard a faint heartbeat. You sighed. Another bonus of discovering your powers. The sounds of the hearts of people around you overwhelmed you to the point that you had to hide in some secluded place to get rid of the pounding in your ears.

It sucked. And the man who was responsible for your miserable situation was standing right next to you now.

"I wouldn't take you for someone who prays to saints." his whisper echoed throughout the chapel. You turned your gaze away from him. You started looking at the stained glass windows in front of you.

"Maybe I just admire art, general."

"On your knees, with your hands together?" he asks sarcastically. You ignore the intense look of his dark eyes on you. He sighs, sitting on the pew next to you. "And it is Aleksander. I've told you many times."

"Shouldn't you be planning a war or something like that?" you huff, earning a small chuckle from him at your annoyance.

At first, you were afraid of this terrible, Black General of the Second Army. Over time, however, you allowed yourself to be more impertinent towards him. (When pretending to be an obedient Grisha irritated you to no end, you got into a fight and ended up in his war room while he was scolding you. You guess that you fascinated him not only with your powers then.)

"Shouldn't you get enough sleep for training with Baghra?" you groan in despair at his words. Baghra... another reason to run away from this place as fast as you can.

You get up from your knees and sit on the pew next to him. Kaz's letter tucked safely in the sleeve of your kefta, but you wonder how long it will be before he notices the unusual stiffness in your left arm.

"I'm not going there. This woman will kill me one day and tell everyone that it was my own incompetence that did it." his soft chuckle definitely shouldn't make your heart beat faster. You were glad he didn't have powers like yours to find out about this embarrassing fact. "I'm also a little concerned about you knowing my timetable." you say, actually suspecting that the general's good intentions are based on something completely different than your well-being. You still didn't know how you sold him the story about how the orphan from Ketterdam managed to become a servant for Ravka's royal family and didn't pass a single test during her stay in the Grand Palace.

"I care about every Grishas. Some require my attention more than others." He says, shifting his gaze to the stained glass window you were staring at.

Sankta Ursula of the Waves

"You can mock all you want, but I believe in them. You have to believe in something if you want to survive in Ketterdam."

He trembles slightly. He thinks you haven't noticed, but you have. He clears his throat and looks down from the image of a Sankta to look at something else in the chapel.

"Why you pray to her?" he asks, and you, not knowing the importance of this question at the time, shrug and simply say the truth.

"My brother crossed part of the sea alone when he was only 10 years old. If not thanks to the saint's help, I don't know how he survived…" you tell him.

You don't know why, but he has such an aura around him that you just WANT to tell him everything. It was easy to trust him enough to share some of your secrets... After all, everything that's in the shadows is safely kept from the world, right?

And in those dark eyes and that mysterious, confident smirk you could get lost so damn easily…

If you knew better, you would have tried to push him away from you instead of spending nights with him in the chapel, talking about your past or when he "accidentally" joined you, or in the palace garden when he "accidentally" wanted to walk around the lake in the moonlight. You have unknowingly let him to direct you straight to his intricately woven spider web.

And I damn sure never would've danced with the devil At nineteen, and the god's honest truth is that the pain was heaven

Genya has provided you with a wonderful kefta. However, its red was different from the others, Corporalki. It was more bloody, wine-like, and so dark that one could say it was mixed with black.

Aleksander said he needed to recognise his best heartrender, and this kefta, too fanciful for your taste, was supposed to be a symbol of your importance to the Second Army. As if the ridiculous amount of black thread he had ordered to use to decorate it wasn't enough of a sign that the Black General favoured you over his other soldiers.

It was one of many celebrations in the Grand Palace. However, on this occasion, the Tsar and Tsaritsa decided to invite the Grishas as well... or rather, have them entertain a crowd of self-righteous nobility on the occasion of the anniversary of the Ravka uprising.

You weren't a Ravkan. You weren't interested in some artificial celebration, but the general almost forced you to come to this stupid holiday with others... at least you could drink wine secretly with Genya and Fedyor.

You felt the blood flowing freely through your body as you danced with some other Grishas. You laughed carelessly for the first time in a long time and let yourself spin around as the handsome blonde held you in his arms.

The others' heartbeats hummed softly in your ears as you allowed yourself to let go of control a little. The orchestra's music effectively allows you to drown out the sound your powers have picked up.

Being so distracted, you didn't even notice when Grisha leaned closer to you and started whispering something in your ear. You laughed at the ridiculousness of his flirtatious offer and were about to reject him when suddenly an arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you into a strong chest.

As soon as the familiar smell of burning wood and musk mixed with kvass enveloped you, you relaxed. Suddenly, the possessive, too-tight grip on your waist where his large hand was pressing against your stomach and holding his breasts too close to be appropriate didn't bother you as much.

And if, instead of inhaling his scent and perfume like some drug and getting high on it, you saw the death glare he was sending towards the guy who was only flirting with you, maybe you would understand that it was better to run away from him as far as possible instead of melting into the soft fabric of his black kefta and appreciating his muscles you felt through it.

But you couldn't think of anything else but how lucky you were that your summer keftas were so thin.

“I'm going to steal Miss Y/F(ake)/L/N for a while." he says as if he has every right to you. But you are too intoxicated (both by his close presence and the wine you drank) to notice that something is wrong.

And instead of yelling at him like you should have, showing him that you weren't a thing he could take whenever he wanted, you blushed as he turned you towards him and gave you that damned, dangerous smirk that made many Grishas women swoon.

"You looked like you needed saving." he whispers into your ear, gently touching his bearded cheek to yours.

You bit your lip, looking at him as he pulled away from you, perfectly playing the role of gentleman and your fucking knight on a black horse. Too perfect for you to notice then...

"Thank you, general, for caring so much about an ordinary heartrender like me." you tease him as he leads you in a dance.

"My best heartrender." he replies, running his hand down your back, making you shiver. He suddenly dipped you down, forcing you to lean on his hands and trust that he won't let you fall on the floor. You were so close in his arms that you felt every breath he takes matching yours.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Grishas whispering about you, but you don't care. Not while you have him with you, not while he's looking at you with such curiosity and admiration that you feel like you're the only damn person in the room. And you see his eyes linger longer on the black stitched decorations of your kefta on your waist and chest.

"Be careful, Ivan will be jealous." you tease, giving him one of your prettiest teasing smiles, and you almost hold your breath, seeing a hint of something akin to lust in his eyes, as dark as his shadows.

"He has his Fedyor." he replies, pulling you slightly closer to him, and you know he can feel your rapidly beating heart.

He was dangerous—everything you should avoid—something that young and naive girls were warned about. But you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. And the fact that such a special, powerful man like him was interested in the thief and killer from Ketterdam like you made you unable to push him away.

You liked his attention. The way he touched your cheek tenderly as he brushed the hair from your face after riding with him. The way he sought your presence and the way he showed up at unexpected moments when you really needed someone. The way he gently grabbed your hand, amplifying your already formidable powers so you could practice bigger, more impressive things with him than with Baghra.

He made you felt special, chosen. And with every single second you spend with him, you wanted more from him…

He left you with the tingling feeling of his lips on your hand after thanking you for dancing. He walked away from you, giving you a second glance and a wink. And then you knew he would be your death...

And now that I'm grown I'm scared of ghosts Memories feel like weapons And now that I know I wish you'd left me wondering

"I do not like winter." you say, sitting in one of his armchairs in the war room, warming your hands by the fireplace.

Baghra forced you to train outside, and the cold ingrained itself into your bones. You tried in vain to warm yourself up using your power. The old witch, seeing your incompetence, only let you go when your lips turned blue enough from the cold. And Aleksander was bustling around you now, wrapping an absurd amount of blankets around you and making tea for the two of you.

"Why is that?" he asks, placing the warm mug in your cold hands. You smile gratefully and take a sip, deciding that he did it perfectly, just as you loved it. Which, by the way, wasn't so strange, knowing how many sleepless nights you spent in that chair talking with him.

"My brothers once took me to a frozen lake to go ice skating. I fell into an ice hole, almost froze to death, and got a terrible cold. My mother said that I miraculously escaped death. My parents spent all their money on doctors and medicines for me. And as a result, my brothers and I were strictly forbidden to go out without her supervision. As you might expect, they weren't very grateful to me for this."

You see him swallow and stare into his cup in silence. You don't miss his tense shoulders and the frown on his forehead as he mentions something—something very bad, judging by the pale knuckles of his hands as they grip the cup tightly.

You slowly get up and put your mug on the table. You walk up to him and kneel in front of him. You take the cup from his hands before it breaks under his force, and you slow down his rapidly beating heart with your power to calm him down a bit.

The touch of your soft, gentle hands on his brings him back to reality. His dark eyes stare at you with great intensity, assessing and wondering something deeply as he pierces your very soul.

"I fell into the freezing lake too." he finally says, lowering his gaze to your joined hands. He plays with your fingers and draws patterns with his fingertips on your palm as he weighs his words, not looking at you, as if he might break down under your compassionate pattern. "I was 13 years old… two other children, my dearest friends, attempted to drown me in that freezing lake."

A cold chill runs through your body. You unconsciously squeeze his hands, trying to catch his gaze.

"Why?" you whisper, shakily, imagining that cruel moment.

He doesn't say anything. He lifts his head and looks at you, and he finds something in your gaze that makes him decide to stare hopingly into your eyes with his dark irises that reflect the glow of the fire in the fireplace for a while.

He sighs, closing his eyes, and suddenly you feel your hands tingle where your skin meets his. And it's not the usual feeling that washes over you every time you're in his intoxicating presence.

NO.

It was something bigger, more powerful, and much more addictive than anything, than Darkling himself was already to you.

"Use your power. Listen to the heartbeat." he whispers his command quietly, completely unlike the way he expresses his orders. And if you opened your eyes, you would see him staring at you intently, watching the reaction on your face.

And then you hear it. Thousands of heartbeats, you feel every flow of blood in the bodies of thousands of people present from the Little and Greate Palace, even throughout the whole capital.

Overwhelmed by so much power, you let go of his hands and breathe heavily, still feeling the blood rushing through your veins and that warm tingle spreading throughout you.

"What... what the hell was that?" you ask him in shock, trying to catch your breath. "How... how did you..."

"You know what an amplifier is, right?" he asks, sliding out of his chair and kneeling in front of you.

He reaches up and slowly tucks your hair behind your ear. You flinch at first at his touch, and he freezes, but you quickly nuzzle into his hand when you notice that you no longer feel as much power emanating from him to you as you did with his earlier touch.

"Yes, but..." you freeze, realising what he's implying. The impossibility of it all only stuns you for a moment. But so many impossible things have already happened in your life that, in the end, this little piece of information doesn't make that much of an impression on you. But you can't say the same about what you found out... about what he must have gone through in his childhood. They practically hunted him like those animals that enhanced Grishas' abilities. "Oh, Aleksander." you whisper and lunge at him to hug him tightly to you.

And by the short sigh he let out as he buried his face in your hair, and by the way it took him a moment to undoubtedly return your strong, tender hug, you knew that this wasn't what he expected, that this wasn't the kind of reaction he was used to seeing.

If only you knew back then that he would start using his memories more often as a weapon in the fight for your feelings, your affection, your forgiveness, and your compassion, then you would rather he left you in the dark, for him to never start sharing THE REAL parts of him with you.

If you never touched me, I would've Gone along with the righteous If I never blushed then they could've Never whispered about this And if you never saved me from boredom I could've gone on as I was

Ravka's love day celebrations are… more successful than you would like to admit.

You went to breakfast, convinced that you would spend today's day off alone, locked in your room or gossiping with Genya about anything other than the romantic, tense atmosphere in the palace.

You were wrong.

It started with you being presented with various flowers from various Grishas along the way, asking if you would spend the evening with them. And they were various proposals. Dinner, a walk in the palace gardens, a horse ride, even spending the night with them (which you found disgusting).

You entered the dining hall and sat down in your usual seat, responding to Fedyor's teasing as you placed a bouquet of all the flowers you were given on the table next to you.

"You don't want to take them from me? Ivan would be happy." you try to shush him but he just laughs more.

"Better tell me which ones are from the general." he teases you, picking up one of the flowers and hitting your shoulder with it.

You tense up and blush slightly. You make sure to mask the beating of your racing heart so that Fedyor can't use it as a clue to your true feelings for the General, which have developed over the months you've spent in the Little Palace.

"None. And it better stay that way. As if all these women didn't look at me with hatred anyway. Can you believe that for all these flowers, no one brought me my favorites? Or any sweets?" you complain jokingly, digging into your food and trying to act as if you were unimpressed by his comment.

"And what are your favorites?" he asks casually, also starting to eat his food. You answer him and then suddenly someone sits next to you. Inferni - Luke, the one you danced with at one of the events and your faithful library buddy, gives you a shy smile.

"Are you doing anything tonight?" he asks, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck.

You feel Fedyor's eyes on you, but you try to ignore him. The heartrender flies away, leaving the two of you alone. You don't know how to answer Luke. He was that classic nice, funny guy that any woman would kill for attention. And probably, if your life were different, you would gladly accept his invitation and reciprocate his shy flirtation.

But you can't and don't want to do it. You don't feel an ounce about Luke what you feel about a certain dark-haired man in a black kefta. And when Inferni's hand connects with yours, you mentally compare the feeling to the tingling excitement that the mere look of Aleksander's dark eyes stirs within you.

Fortunately, you're not the one who has to answer. A grunt from the two of you makes Luke let go of your hand. You both stare at your general, who stands with his hands clasped behind his back. He approaches you slowly and catches your gaze with his dark irises before looking at the Inferni sitting next to you.

"Unfortunately, Miss Y/F/N will be busy tonight." he replies, not even trying to hide from you the silent, unspoken threat he sends with his gaze towards the boy who tired to ask you out.

Luke nods and leaves with a quiet: "Yes, General."

Alexander looks at you, and for a moment, that's all you do. And if you were a little more careful, less blinded by your fascination with this dangerous man who, for some reason, puts you at the centre of his universe, you would try to get away from him as far as possible.

But you are not.

He offers you his hand, patiently waiting to see if you take it or reject it. But you both then know that you are too deeply enchanted by his intoxicating appearance, too mesmerised by the sound of his voice, and too hungry for his touch to allow yourself to lose his attention for even a moment.

So you gently placed your hand on his. He wraps it in a safe hug and helps you up. He pulls you a little closer to him so that the materials of your keftas rub against each other. And the overwhelming amount of black embroidery on it practically hides the red material underneath, matching perfectly to the general's black kefta. This obvious match only now seems trivially obvious to you.

And if the Grishas had any doubt that you belonged to the Dark General, the fact that he pulled out your favourite flowers from behind his back and handed them to you with a small, charmed smirk as you took them from him and buried your nose in the petals told them so quite clearly.

In that moment, you too realised how deeply you felt for this man.

That's why, when he leans towards you, his bearded cheek brushing yours, flushed from the overwhelming feeling that overwhelms you in his close presence, you don't object when he whispers in your ear:

“I'm about to kidnap you for tonight.”

The rational part of you screams at you that this is a bad sign, that he is saying it with too much confidence and hunger in his eyes to be considered mere flirtation and not an act of pure possession and dominance.

But you don't listen.

You don't want to listen.

You want to drown in those dark brown irises, be consumed by his darkness, if it meant that for the rest of your life he would look at you as the only person he wanted.You want to finally feel wanted. Needed. Chosen. The one and only.

And the fact that it was this most powerful Grisha who made you feel this way only fueled your desires more and blinded everything your mind was screaming to your deaf heart. A heart that was deaf to everything that wasn't HIM.

"I can't wait." you whisper back.

And you know, by the way he nods at you and walks away with his usual confidence, the twinkle of victory in his eyes, and the huge, satisfied smile when he realises you're watching him closely until he's out of your sight, that you are gone for good and there is no going back to who you were. That he has clawed his way into your soul too deeply to ever try to deny it.

But lord, you made me feel important And then you tried to erase us

This is one of the best nights of your life.

You knew this from the moment you climbed with him to the highest tower in the Little Palace, which was used to teach little Grishas astronomy lessons.

He laid down with you on the blankets and pillows he had prepared, especially for this occasion, and let you lean against his chest as you both gazed at the stars. You, safely wrapped in his arms and blankets, listened to his slightly accelerated heartbeat as if it were the sweetest music you had ever heard. And the fact that he rested his chin on top of your head, occasionally whispering something in your ear about the constellations in front of you, quickly became by far your favourite place in the world.

"For a long time I only slept under the stars. My mother and I always had to be on the run. We couldn't find a permanent place. People would try to kill the Darkling's son as soon as they found out about my existence."

You lift your joined hands and press a kiss to his as you continue to listen to him. You feel shivers run through his body. You learned, with the time you spend with him, that he was completely unaccustomed to the tender touch of another.

"They were my only solace in the darkness."

"Were you afraid of her? And your shadows?" you ask, turning in his arms to look at him properly. He shifts his gaze from the night sky above you to you and disentangles one of his hands from your grasp to caress your cheek tenderly.

"A bit. I couldn't control them then... they were... unpredictable. My mother used to mock me and say that I was no summoner if I allowed my own power to rule me."

"Aleksander." you whisper, tears in your eyes as you see the pain written all over his face. It was there every time he mentioned that cruel woman. You hold one of his hands tightly and say, with all your conviction and unwavering faith in this man, "You are the strongest person I know. You've been through so much... I'm probably not even aware of half of it yet, and yet, look where you are and what you have achieved. There has never been and never will be a better Darkling than you. You are caring and attentive; you take care of your people, and the Grishas under your rule are better than ever."

He stares at you, frowning halfway through your speech, and something like guilt shines in his eyes as tears begin to form.

You don't know it yet, then.

You don't know why he feels guilty. You don't know why he shivers as you lean into him to press your lips together in your first kiss. You don't know why his hands are shaking as he cups your cheeks. You don't know why, as you try to undo the buttons on his kefta, his hands suddenly stop yours. You don't know why he pulls away after a moment, whispering something under his breath as he practically runs away from you.

All you know for sure is his heart beating madly as he disappears from your sight and the tingling of your lips after the kiss the two of you shared a moment ago.

He hasn't come near you since that night. In fact, you feel like he's trying to avoid you at all costs. And in hindsight, you curse yourself for not taking the hint. That you didn't move away when he tried to make it easier for you.

But you were too stubborn, too longing for his presence floating around you like his shadows, to simply give up and do what's best for you. So you knock on his chambers in the middle of the night, and when he opens the door, you both know you're too far in all of this to try to ignore an attraction between you—this ache in your chest after not seeing each other for weeks.

You don't know who kisses who first. Or when he pulls you towards him and closes the door behind you to pin himself against it. You have no idea who took the other's kefta off first or when you found yourself in his bed as he tried to kiss every part of you. You know you feel safe, warm, loved, and at home. And it's a feeling you haven't felt in a very long time. And so did he. That's why you get lost in each other, completely disregarding the fact that, in the end, you would probably both tear each other's hearts out.

Oh, you're a crisis of my faith Would've, could've, should've If I'd only played it safe

He finds you kneeling by his fireplace as you slowly burn letter after letter you wrote to Kaz that he sent back to you. The bastard didn't even open it.

It's been a long time since you kneeled before anything other than him. Your faith in the saints was crumbling with each passing month in the ranks of the Second Army. If the saints were so powerful, why did they continue to allow Grishas to be treated worse than dogs?

You didn't understand it. And the next bottle of Aleksander's kvas that you opened only confirmed your belief that the saints sucked, your brother was an ungrateful scoundrel, and your boyfriend was the only good thing that happened to you. Boyfriend… it felt weird for you to call him that, but you had no other idea in your half-drunk state.

You put another letter into the fire when you suddenly feel a pair of arms wrap around you, pulling you into his strong chest. You sigh, appreciating his scent and the warmth that emanates from him. His shadows slowly wrap around the two of you as you both kneel in front of the fireplace and the burning letters to your brother.

"Are you playing Inferni?" he asks teasingly as his hands go to the bottle of kvas you're holding, and he takes a sip from it.

"Possible. Did you have to grovel before the king again to get money for Grishas for uniforms, training, and food? Which should actually be his fucking duty to provide this for the soldiers who are bleeding for him and other royal snobs on the Fjerdan border.”

"Possible. Don't say it out loud or elsewhere. I don't want to see that pretty ass through the bars in the dungeon."

"We both know you'd save that ass and drag it back to your bed." you both giggle like fools. You lean more into him and sigh satisfied when he starts running through your hair, playing with it.

"Possible. Very much. Who deserves your hatred?" he asks curiously as you throw another letter into the fire. "Be careful not to set fire to my chambers. I have some nice, matching keftas here for the two of us."

"I'm glad you find it amusing that my brother is a dick." you complain a little, wondering what keftas he's referring to besides the ones you're currently wearing.

He insisted that you have at least one all-black one with red embroidery. Of course you agreed. You wanted people to know you were his.

"He didn't respond?" he asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. You take his hand in yours and start drawing patterns on it with your finger. You cling to his claw-like ring and play with it for a while, spinning it around his finger.

"He actually did. He write a big 'Fuck you' at the back of one." you say thoughtfully as you shift your gaze to the letters burning in the fireplace. Maybe it was actually better to stop trying to establish contact with him for a moment and give him space to think?

"Don't think about him. You don't need him." he says, nuzzling your temple with his nose. You frown and turn your head to look at him.

"He is my brother... that's a bound that never die." you speak strongly, convinced that you are right.

The determination in your eyes makes him fall silent, staring at you as he thinks about something, or maybe someone, as he mindlessly plays with your fingers—a nervous habit he showed every time he held you against him and he thought about his past. In moments like these, you just wanted to kiss the sadness and pain from his face.

"Maybe." he finally whispers back, lost in thought. Suddenly, he shakes his head slightly and flashes back to you from his memories. "Maybe it is better for him like that? To only care about himself. To show that he is not emotionally connected to anyone. Maybe he is trying to keep you safe?"

"Why live without love? Without someone close to you who waits for you and cares for you? Who believes in you? Who would have your back at your worst and when you need a rescue?"

"Sometimes people have no choice. It's safer to live alone. To care only about yourself. You know that your actions won't hurt anyone, and if they do, it will only hurt you."

"I would rather live one life in the arms of my love than hundreds of them all alone and in meaningless glory."

He tenses, but his grip doesn't loosen around you. If anything, he grows stronger, as if he's clinging to you to make sure you don't go anywhere further than his arms reach.

He kisses your temple and pulls you in so that you're straddling his lap. He strokes your neck and collarbone gently, and after a long, tender kiss, he whispers into your lips:

"I need to get out and visit a few camps near the fold. Come with me… I need to keep an eye on you to make sure you stay in these arms of mine as long as possible." he teases you, but you know his question-order has more meaning than he is willing to admit.

For the first time, neither of you are alone. You have someone to come back to at night, someone to talk to about your problems, someone to hold in your arms. And it's both a pleasurable and addictive feeling for the two of you.

I would've stayed on my knees And I damn sure never would've danced with the devil At nineteen, and the god's honest truth is that the pain was heaven And now that I'm grown I'm scared of ghosts Memories feel like weapons And now that I know I wish you'd left me wondering

Sun Summoner. Saint Alina. Ravka's Savior.

The girl received more titles and merits, more hope placed in her than many saints to whom you prayed. You would feel sorry for her if she didn't completely rob you of YOUR Aleksander.

And you would endure it. Really. If only that little saint hadn't accidentally blurted out his name at dinner while she was talking to you.

And that's why you stood crying in your... his chambers. You were packing instead of getting ready for the winter fiesta celebrations, fully ready to mend your broken heart on the borders of Ravka, preferably in some camp near Fjerda, so that you could vent the anger, despair, and disappointment boiling inside of you to them.

Although you preferred to keep the heart of a certain little saint rather than some Fjerdan or Drüskell, and to be honest, that desire scared you.

Kaz was right. You chose comfort. You could have tried to escape from the Darkling better and put more effort into your escape plans instead of letting yourself be slandered by that damn bastard who gave that sunny whore a kefta in HIS colour after a WEEK. You waited fucking months for him to give you the black kefta you wanted, which was now hanging in his closet, abandoned like a rag.

In your anger, you packed your things blindly, oblivious to your surroundings. That's why you flinched when suddenly HIS hands gently held your arms, preventing you from packing any further.

You don't turn to face him. You don't make a move, waiting for him to say something as you listen to his heartbeat.

"Where are you going?" he asks, but you know he's only doing it to analyse his next move, to come up with a reason in his head why you'd want to leave him, and he's trying to quickly come up with a plan to talk you out of it.

You may not have known what a son-of-a-bitch he was, but at least you knew him almost as well as you knew yourself.

"On a vacation." you huff and shake his arms off of you. You close your leather suitcase with a bang and turn to face him. He notices that you're wearing your red kefta—the first one that clearly wasn't trimmed with a ridiculous amount of black embroidery typical of heartrenders.

"Y/N..." he sighs and reaches for you, but you pull away from him before his hands land on you and your traitorous body succumbs to his familiar touch.

"Don't. Don't even start it. I know what you are going say all to well."

"What are you talking about?" he asks, frowning at you. You look away from him and sit on his bed as you tie your travelling shoes and make sure you have your daggers hidden in them.

"Oh, you know. That typical 'It's not you, it's me' talk. And the classic 'I don't feel the same about you anymore. And it's my fault, not yours.' Just spare us this crap and let me go somewhere where I don't have to watch you cling to that sunny bitch."

In an instant, he's on his knees in front of you, clutching your hands in his. You know that looking into his damn hypnotic eyes will ruin you, but you're too weak to resist him.

"I admit... I've been busy with the Sun Summoner lately... but she's not the one I return to every night. She's not the one I think about every free moment; she's not the one I want to hold in my arms..."

"But she's the one who got the kefta in your colours from you. She's the one who learned your name before I did. The one you trusted right away when I had to earn your trust every fucking week here. She's your equal. Your goddamn complement. I won't stand in the way of your great, epic love and play the role of the other woman, only because you get used to having me around." you say mad and push his hands away from you.

And instead of letting you go and making the one damn right choice in your life, he stands up and traps you in the tight embrace of his arms and shadows.

You scream, squirm, and try to struggle out of his strong arms, even going so far as to pathetically punch his chest with your fists, but weakly enough that it seems more like a frantic act of your despair and hurt than an actual attempt. hurting him.

You scream, squirm, and try to struggle out of his strong arms, even going so far as to pathetically punch his chest with your fists, but weakly enough that it seems more like a frantic act of your despair and hurt than an actual attempt to harm him.

“Milaya, moye serdtse… (Sweet girl, my heart.)” he whispers in your ear, his hands caressing your back tenderly as you tremble against him. "You are the only light of my life. Moi sol ye tselai. (My sun and stars.) There is no one else, and there never will be. Alina may be the Sun Summoner, my opposite and complement, but it is YOU who challenges me, you are my EQUAL. It is you that I want to return to every night, you are with me... you are the one I want to always have with me."

And then it feels so romantic and sweet, so right, when he kisses the tears from your face and pulls the ring from his pocket to slide it on your finger after his quiet: "Kei onolich yash, milaya?" and your little, almost unnoticable nod.

It feels so good when he throws your leather suitcase off the bed in one move and lays you on it, worshipping you all night long and assuring you that he is yours and yours alone. You feel loved. Wanted. Chosen above the one and only Sun Summoner.

And in that moment, his warm, soft lips on yours, his cold hands caressing your body heated by him, the shadows floating around you that he accidentally released, and the sound of his pounding heartbeat in your ears were enough for you to forget that he was planning to gain Alina's trust in a nefarious way. It was so easy to explain it to yourself. It was so easy for you to convince yourself that he was a good man. It was definitely easier than admitting the obvious, painful truth.

After all, that was all you two wanted... to never feel lonely and unimportant again.

God rest my soul I miss who I used to be The tomb won't close Stained glass windows in my mind

The fold is dark. Cold. It doesn't resemble Aleksander's shadows at all. Your fiancé is also nothing like the version you knew.

Version. That's exactly what he was showing you.

Another version of him. Another of his hundreds of lives. You were so naive and stupid. He had to handcuff you to the deck of the ship so you could finally understand what he was really like.

And so you found yourself in the front row, watching the Black Heretic widen his fold.

He has the nerve to walk up to you and brush the hair out of your face that has been ruffled by the wind his squallers have summoned. And he does it with such tenderness that you almost believe in the truth of his feelings. Almost. The handcuffs blocking your power and hidden beneath the fabric of your black dress—another one of his sick ways of marking his ownership—are a stark reminder of how he has degraded you and how he has reduced your role to nothing more than a pretty toy on his arm so that he is not alone in his madness.

"Please... I just want to talk." he whispers, his hand never leaving your cheek as he caresses it with his thumb with utmost care.

You don't look at him. You can't anymore. His face is a blatant reminder of your stupidity and naivety. Your greatest weakness and desire - all hidden in the face of a handsome devil in front of you. A Starless Saint you used to pray to in the past...

"I don't care how long it takes you, but in the end, you'll understand and come to accept that there was no other choice. That I'm doing this for us. For you. For all the Grishas." he whispers, placing a kiss on your forehead.

You're shaking. And you curse yourself for doing this, both because you're afraid of him and because his mouth still manages to tear down all the walls you put up because of him around your heart.

"Do not touch me." you snap at him, furious. Trying to at least pretend that you really hated him with every fibre of your being.

This doesn't discourage him. Even the other way around, he pulls you closer to him, tangling his hand in the back of your hair to whisper into your ear:

"I will banish this attitude from you in time, moya tsaritsa." you freeze at his words, realising his true plan—to expand the fold and take over Ravka. He wanted to become a tsar...

"You must be delusional to think for even a second that you will take control over Ravka and put me by your side."

"Isn't that what we promised each other? Stay with each other no matter what? I have seen what you truly are, and I never turned away. I never will." he's trying to convince you, and you know that if it weren't for the numerous lies and half-truths he fed you, you would join him.

You wouldn't care about what he did, what he intended to do, or who he would hurt to fulfil his sick plan that had been hundreds of years in the making. You feel weak and naive like never before. All because of the man, you decided to give your heart and all your devotion.

"I promised this to General Kirigan. Not to the Black Heretic, poisoned by his maniacal beliefs and blinded by the grip of authority and power. No matter how hard you try, you will never have control over anything. Your shadows and pride will be your undoing, Aleksander."

You gasp when he suddenly grabs your jaw roughly, tightening his fingers around your bones and preventing you from saying anything. He glares at you, a combination of betrayal and pain in his dark eyes as he tries to decide what to do with you. And you know that if you were anyone else, he would have used his shadows on you long ago.

And for a moment, you wish that he could finally free you from the suffering, hopelessness, and inner conflict you feel every time you look at his face.

"You shall be right by my side... no matter what you think about me." he promised you, which almost sounds like a threat, and placed a soft kiss on your cheek, near your lips. "You will understand; I know you will... we have all the time we need."

Before you can ask him about the meaning of his words, hell begins to break loose around you.

And you don't know what amazes you more, the fact that Alina is able to resist the bond and summon an incredible amount of light, or the fact that your brother appears next to you, and with the help of some mad hatter with a gun who turns out to be a fabricator, they free you. Kaz and his people take you away from the fold, Aleksander and his Grishas.

You are free.

Only your heart seems to be bleeding, left far behind you in the hands of a man you don't know if he's still alive.

And for the first time in several years, after you have a very emotional conversation with your little brother and after you promise to help the Sun Summoner, you allow yourself to cry quietly in the room they rented in some old inn.

And the worst of it all is that you don't cry for who you were, for the lost years in the Little Palace, or for how Aleksander changed you and transformed you in his image. No. You cry over him because you don't know if you'll ever see that damn bastard again.

And to make matters worse, you find a picture of a Starless Saint in the room. And you know that Aleksander, dead or alive, will haunt you for the rest of your life.

And his engagement ring resting safely on your finger is obvious proof of that.

I regret you all the time Can't let this go I fight with you in my sleep The wound won't close I keep on waiting for a sign I regret you all the time

Baghra teaches you how to control and summon shadows.

Yes, Baghra, Aleksander's mother, who apparently turned out to be on your side, teaches you how to control and summon shadows.

During one rather nasty fight with Drüskelles, it turns out you can summon a fucking shadow cut.

And after Aleksander starts haunting you in your dreams and even in broad daylight, just like he does with Alina, you realise that she's not the only one who got an amplifier from him.

And so you found yourself in a library near the village where you were hiding, trying to find any information about Morozova and his amplifiers. And the women sitting across from you weren't much help.

"Why does he haunt her more than he haunts me? Could it have something to do with the fact that the bond between us is falling apart or is less durable than theirs?" Alina asks Baghra. You roll your eyes at her.

"He obviously has other… priorities." the old woman replies, clearly insinuating the motive for these priorities.

"Maybe please stop insinuating such nonsense?" you mumble over your book, trying to read the text.

It didn't help that you were distracted by their conversations and hadn't slept in days, too afraid of meeting him in your dreams. He was all you could think about anyway.

"I'm just stating facts. The boy constantly thinks about you; you think about him. You seek and reach out to each other unconsciously and appear before the other eyes."

"I'm not at all…"

"I wouldn't embarrass myself more if I were you." Kaz says, walking alongside Mal, Inej, and Jasper. Everyone but him is carrying large stacks of books for your wonderful group to look through.

"At least this one has a brain." Baghra comments, insulting everyone at the table. You can see from Kaz's look that he's rather pleased with her comment. "It's better for you that you're a cripple." you huff, amused, seeing Kaz's expression revert to his trademark cold stare. He frowns grumpily as he plops down on the couch next to you.

It was in good enough condition to allow you to lean on it for a while. That's why you took the opportunity and placed your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a moment.

"Are you going to meet your geek?" he asks teasingly, and if you didn't know him, you'd think the snarky tone was meant to mock you.

"You better keep an eye on your girlfriend, Kazzle. She's far too good for you," you whisper back to him and smile victoriously, hearing his heart speed up at the mention of Inej.

"Shut up and go to sleep."

You agree and allow yourself to fall asleep for the first time in days, hoping someone will wake you up if Aleksander invades your dreams again.

If clarity's in death, then why won't this die? Years of tearing down our banners You and I Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts Give me back my girlhood It was mine first

As soon as you open your eyes, you realise that you are in a different place, somewhere you have never been before. You look around the room and stop in front of the mirror. You shudder as you realise you're wearing the black kefta HE once gave you.

"One day without your annoying presence, is it that much to ask?" you say, turning around after you saw his figure in the mirror.

You shiver, realising that he's much closer than you expected. For a moment, you wish you could pinch yourself to get out of there. It would definitely make life easier for your battered heart.

"You're so successful at avoiding me that I have to take advantage of every opportunity you give me, milaya." he says and takes a step towards you.

You automatically step back, making him clench his fists, keeping them to himself. He sighs and looks at you again, his dark brown eyes scanning your soul, trying, as usual, to find something to convince you to come back to him.

"Please… I just want to talk. You know I would never hurt you." he makes his cute, kicked-up puppy face. Your stupid heart hurts to see him so... broken, but this time your brain is screaming over your heart's pleas for mercy to this man.

"Do you want to talk? Then maybe you can tell me why you put an amplifier in me? Why did you let me summon your shadows?! Why did Grishas have to evacuate from the Little Palace, and why is the king hunting us like Fjerdans and Drüskelles?!" you ask angrily, unconsciously moving closer to him with each sentence you shout at him.

"You can try to make me a monster if it makes you feel better, but I am not your enemy. And you know it. Everything I do, everything I have ever done, I've done for Grishas. And everything I ever do will be for Grishas and for you." he says, as usual, maintaining that damn composure that makes you hate him more. You hate that he pretends he's perfectly fine while you're falling to pieces every day you walk without him by your side.

"Lying. That's all you can do. Lie, manipulate. Tell me, how many gullible girls have you fooled with your beautiful eyes and idealistic talk? How much girlhood have you taken and used for your own benefit?" you ask him, wanting to hurt him, wanting to cause him the same pain he gave you when you found out the truth about him, and your world crumbled around you like a house of cards. Because that's all your life was. Illusion. An illusion created by a man you couldn't hate like he deserved you.

"I've never taken anything you didn't give me willingly."

"I gave you everything just not to lose you. You made me dependent on you; you made life without you seem like cruel torture; you showed me things that I can't even feel with anyone else; you manipulated me so well that I don't feel that I exist without being by your side." you accuse him with tears in your eyes. You're letting them fall freely as you look at his shocked, hurt face. "And every pain you brought me was like fucking heaven. And the worst part of it all is that I would still be your fucking faithful follower and completely surrender my battered soul to you if only you hadn't fucking lied to me."

You let yourself fall apart in front of him. You let him touch you again as he tenderly cups your cheek and pulls your head to his chest. You cry into his kefta, hugging him tightly and digging your fingers into his back as he presses his lips against your head and holds you tightly in his arms.

"I hate you. I hate you." you cry into his chest, inhaling his scent like a drug.

"I will always love you, milaya." he says calmly, but you feel the drops dripping on your hair, and you let yourself believe that they are his own tears as you stand there in each other's arms, clinging desperately to each other.

And I damn sure never would've danced with the devil At nineteen, and the god's honest truth is that the pain was heaven And now that I'm grown I'm scared of ghosts Memories feel like weapons And now that I know I wish you'd left me wondering

Fedyor struggles with Ivan's grip. However, both you and the two heartrenders know that this makes no sense.

The two of you (and Baghra, whose whereabouts you were unaware of) were captured by Aleksander's men. You both actually volunteered. You were supposed to distract attention from the rest of your group of world saviors. Aleksander took the throne as he had predicted. And Ivan now leads you before the new tsar.

You walked through the corridors of the Little Palace, knowing this place all too well by heart, and you wondered if, when Aleksander was building it, he always had in the back of his mind that it would serve as his royal residence in the future. You were actually surprised that his first order wasn't to demolish the Grand Palace.

"Moi tsar." Ivan's voice pulls you from your thoughts. You weren't even aware that you had already reached the throne room.

"Finally. Interrogate the prisoner. Tsaritsa stays here." he says, and you feel his gaze on you, but you don't give him enough satisfaction to grace him with your gaze.

Fedyor swallows. You give him a sympathetic look as he walks away, with Ivan holding him tightly. What can war do to two people in love? You think. At least Fedyor knew how to hate Ivan... not like you.

There's an awkward silence between you for a moment. Only the rustle of his royal kefta and the heavy steps he takes in his shoes make you look up at him. And you hold your breath.

Of course, you had heard the rumours about his visit to the fold, leaving him with souvenir scars from his encounter with volcras, but well... it wasn't your fault that you immediately thought how hotter he was because of them. And with a crown on his head and a black kefta with red embroidery, he looked amazing. He had no right to look like that when you stood in front of him in your brother's oversized shirt and pants borrowed from Inej.

"Tsaritsa?" you finally ask with a sneer, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I knew you'd react to that." he says with a smirk, walking over to you. "I promised you this, remember? And I keep my promises. Even if I didn't really know you, Y/N Rietveld." you flinch at the sound of your real name, which you somehow managed to push from your memory. You also notice his clear reference to what you told him then in the fold. 'You lied to me too. About your identity. A paid killer. That's why you were at the palace, right? That's why I got the cup from you, with poison in it, if I'm not mistaken?"

"As you can see, quite miserable if you're still alive. Besides, I tought telling you half a story was not a laying at all?" you say, looking at him defiantly. He just laughs and stands in front of you, chest to chest, as you stare at one another.

"Is this how it will be now? Using each other's words against each other?"

"You can let me go, and then you won't have to talk to me at all." you say and he laughs, tucking your hair behind your ear and caressing your cheek with his thumb.

His fingers wander along your jaw, to your neck, to your collarbone, to your shoulder, and to the handcuffs on your hands, blocking your power.

"That's not the option. You are staying right where you are, right where you belong. With me." he says, and to your surprise, he removes the handcuffs from you. He takes your hands in his and presses his lips on the small, almost imperceptible marks on your wrists from handcuffs. He also didn't miss the opportunity to fondly stroke the engagement ring he gave you, which is still on your finger. It makes you blush unwillingly. "I can be your monster and force you to stay to make the whole situation easier for you."

"I would never choose you. Blood is thicker than water." you say, furious at his suggestion that you would choose him over your brother.

"But you can't leave without any of this, can you?"

You become silent. Because he's right. You can't live without him, and you have no idea what awaits you next, but you know that you will have to lose someone. And you are afraid of the end result more than anything else.

Suddenly, he stands behind you. You feel his chest rising and falling with each breath on your back as he suddenly raises his hands. There is something heavy, metallic, and heavy on your head. The bastard gave you a damn crown.

"It's you and me, Y/N. And we are all we need anyway." he says and places a kiss on your temple. He presses his nose, inhaling your scent and hugging you tightly, pressing you against him as his shadows circle the room and wrap around the two of you. You can't deny it and say that you don't feel comfortable at all, that you don't feel the relief that his presence once brought you. Because you do. You've always done. "I will give you the world, everything you want... all you have to do is stay."

You don't protest when he places a gentle hand on your jaw and tilts your head to kiss you. You don't try to break free from his grip as he deepens the kiss, expressing all the longing, anger, and affection you feel for each other. And you eagerly push him to his throne, to straddle him and prove that you want him as desperately as he wants you.

Oh, God rest my soul I miss who I used to be The tomb won't close Stained glass windows in my mind I regret you all the time I can't let this go I fight with you in my sleep The wound won't close I keep on waiting for a sign I regret you all the time

You stood next to him. Just like he wanted. This was your plan before you even came back to him. Fedyor also got back into his good graces and gave them information, and you tried to convince your stupid heart that you were doing the right thing. And now you watched as Alina fought with him to destroy the fold.

And you're really prepared for him to die. You replayed this moment a thousand times in your head as you lay by his side in the Little Palace, watching him in his sleeping state.

What you are not ready for, and what the volcras around you make you realise, is life without him. Without his shadows. Without his voice. Without his dark eyes. Without his touch.

You're still trying to fight with it. Convince yourself that you are stronger and that you can do it. But when you see Alina pick up a Grisha steel dagger and aim it at Aleksander's chest, you react automatically.

You link your hands and form a cut faster than you can process it, and in a moment, the Sun Summoner ceases to exist.

It's just you and Aleksander in the fold.

The world stops for you. Your hands shake as you realise what you've done. And if it weren't for Aleksander's quick reaction and logical thinking, the volcra would have sniffed you out before you could take a step. He guides you out of your crease without even stopping for a moment. But you know it doesn't make sense. You will both perish without light.

Volcra attacks you, despite Aleksander's best attempts to keep them away, and cuts your arm. You scream as suddenly a bright light flows out of you along with your blood. Both you and Aleks freeze and stare at the strong beam of light from your shoulder.

Aleksander tightens his grip on you. You feel him as he amplifies the light within you and brings you out of the fold. You stop only when you are a few metres away from it. You kneel on the ground tiredly, mentally both cursing and thanking the saints, because you have no goddamn idea how you survived this and why Alina's powers transferred to you.

Aleksander is quickly at your side and wraps you in his tight embrace, whispering something you don't quite understand yet. You're too focused on the fact that you can't feel his heartbeat anymore. Your own powers are gone...

And with that, you realise that Y/N Rietveld had long been buried six feet deep beneath the walls of the Little Palace when your eyes met the devil you sold your soul to for the first time.

You gently push Aleksander away from you and kiss him, knowing that this is the only thing that can calm the storm of thoughts raging inside you as you absorb new revelations.

The fold claimed many lives. And it will absorb more than one in the future. It was the tomb of many common people as well as Grishas. And you know it buried Y/N Rietveld/Brekker today.

But a completely new person came out of it. Y/N Morozova. And she was no longer going to pretend that her soul knew anything of her old life anymore. She wasn't going to waste another night wondering how her life could've, would've, or should've gone. Not wasting another moment in the arms of the love of her arms, wondering if it was right to care about him. You didn't play it safe. So now you're going to take what life has got for you. And not alone. Never alone anymore.

"Let's go home, Sasha." you ask him, whispering.

And after a tender kiss on the forehead, you know that you couldn't have made a better decision. Maybe your soul has always been under the care of the saints, specifically this Starless one?

In any case, being the devil's wife suited you.

[threepandas]

Sun Burnt: Part 2

Sixteen grand, only half my go bags, and about three blocks of Mafia Land on fire.

That was my fucking legacy now. I was the crazy fuck that DICK PUNCHED the Dread God of hitmen everywhere. The nightmare that lesser men fear. The blood soaked luxury few can afford! Oh god. I just punch the greatest hitman on THE PLANET in the DICK.

IN PUBLIC.

CURSE YOU LIGHTNING BRAIN!

I can't believe I fucking FORGOT that panic and impossibly fast reaction times were a BAD IDEA. God DAMN it! No wonder everyone thinks Lightnings are morons! That was the DUMBEST SHIT I'VE EVER DONE IN MY LIFE! Oh god. Oh god! I'm gonna die so slow. He's gonna drag it out! What do I DO!?

He didn't even collapse! Just hissed in through his teeth and TANKED it!

Thank god for Tazer training.

But also like!? Ha ha!!! OH GOD IM SO DEAD. I just pissed off EVERYBODY, didn't I? I can never come back! I had to have hit like... fifteen DIFFERENT SETS back there! And Colonello will be out for my BLOOD. Fuck, I wanna LIVE!

Boats. I gotta steal one of the boats!

And thank god? I DO. The island is in chaos, thanks to the fires. I dump the boats number of trackers overboard. Sure, I have to take a knife to a few fancy ass walls. But it's WORTH it.

I got a fancy ass little yacht! Perfect. It's fast, it's liveable, I can DISAPPEAR out to sea. He'll NEVER fi-!

Click.

Cool metal smoothly, cruely, presses againt the back of my head to crush my hope, just as it begins to form. The cologne is unmistakable. I can not tell you, how in God's name I missed it. The barrel of a gun pressed close, like a lover's hand, in unspoken threat.

"Bella~" purrs an amused voice from behind me. It sound like a threat. "Quite the trouble maker, aren't you? Such... CHAOS~♡ But, really? Did you HONESTLY think you could run? We're not done yet."

.....m...maybe I could swim.

I break out into a cold sweat, too aware yet completely frozen. The stairs to the deck are too far away. Fuck. I... I could MAYBE make it? Or.. or punch out a wall? Right into the water? I try to keep my breathing even. It doesn't work. I know, because Death made a man? Who stands behind me? Hums in amusement. His gun pressing tighter against my skin.

"I wouldn't, bella fulminea. I am nothing if not a gentleman, but if you keep fighting me? Well... it is a long boat ride. I'll have to find SOME way to immobilize you long enough for us to have a little chat. And an excuse to have my Flames inside you? You'd be surprised the damage one can do without lasting effects, when they know HOW too."

"And make no mistake. I DO know how to hurt you."

"So let's behave ourselves, hmm? Have a seat."

I... I had a seat. Very comfy. Didn't feel like crying in the SLIGHTEST ha ha, WHAAAT? Don't be silly! This is FINE! We're all friends here! R..Right?

The slow grin I got was NOT reassuring.

He stood there, above me, gun casually pointed at my head, as he examined me. Taking his time. As though decadently savoring the moment. Enjoying my tensed muscles. The way my Flames crackled and arced across my skin. My eyes dilated in fear. The resonance that filled the cabin.

His eyes weren't dark anymore. And that... God, that was the worst part. They had lit up. I'd HEARD about the phenomenon, but never thought I ever actually SEE it. 'Cause who could actually be that batshit powerful? What realistic person would ever be so fucking STRONG?

It was like looking into molten gold. Liquid Sun Flames. I could almost SEE the flicker and burn. I could DEFINITELY feel the Flames filling the room. It was like being crammed in a box with a tiger that barely fit to begin with. Shoved RIGHT up against its face. All I could do was hope it was friendly. Preferably ignored me.

But he wasn't.

No, he wanted to TALK.

Had finally, thankfully, put the gun away. Stepped closer to grab my face and tilt it up. Angle it this way and that. Memorizing my features. Shit. My thoughts must have been obvious on my face, because his smirk widened. His grip got tighter.

"Do you know, little lightning, how long I've waited? How many DECADES I've made do? I don't care if you're not a Sky. You could be another sun as far as I'm concerned. It is the fact that your Flames SING to mine. Crave a place with mine. THAT is why you will never escape me."

I didn't even know if I WANTED a Set. Yeah, it sounded cool. The companionship, the understanding and stuff. Like... like soulmates. Literal platonic but could be not if you wanted Soulmates. Yours forever. Best friends and balm to all wounds. But? But! If THIS was what was in store for me?!

Ha ha, NOPE!

I may not have be interested in being some meat shield for some entitled, cloying, grabby-flamed Sky BRAT, but that didn't mean I wanted a living DREAD GOD! R... RIGHT?! I just wanted, you know, substance! Mutual understanding and a mature outlook on life. Competence. Maybe some one... who thinks... I'm...funny...

Ooooooh no.

Oh no no NO!

"REBORN! Did you KIDNAP a random thief?!"

Thuds up on the deck. A roaring voice sounding vaguely hysterical. A god like Cloud kicking the door to the lower levels clear off it's hinges. Vongola. Oh thank MERCIFUL FUCK. I risk a glance across the table. His face has frozen in it's pleasantly smiling mask. Pissed at being interrupted. Again.

His eyes say "don't you do it. Don't even DARE.

My eyes shoot from him to the Cloud slowly walking down the steps. Followed by the rest of the Tenth generation of the Vongola Familgia. The clear exit they've left open behind them. Back to him. His gaze now promising to break both my legs.

.....he'll have to fucking catch me first.

I BOLT.

[h-y-dontatme]

Obey Me! Reaper Headcanons Pt 1

I feel like there's a lot of prime world building here that didn't get it's due, so this is less about Thirteen and more about Reapers in general.

If you want more: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Reapers have been around as long as angels and demons, but they're too scattered and too few to function as a full faction.

The oldest reaper, Grimm, has served as a neutral party for nearly every conflict between angels and demons since time in memoriam. He's an old man that likes to eat your snacks and will put you in your place before you get the chance to regret your actions.

Yes Grimm. You think value of Grimm (the money) is based off of the love and trust of demonkind everywhere? Nah, it's based off of the soul standard, an exchange rate that is primarily controlled by the reapers.

1 soul = ????? Grimm, depends on the soul

Canonically reapers are described to be 'anti-social', and for good reason. Reaping requires a lot of traveling, and particularly valuable souls will spawn lots of competition.

It's not unheard of for reapers to partner up with a human for a common goal. Humans are crafty, adaptable things, and it'd be a shame to let all of that revenge-energy go to waste.

Reapers often specialize in the type of souls they reap. Humans pose the least threat and are typically seen as low-hanging fruit. Typically their souls aren't of much value to a reaper and are quickly traded off to a demon or angel in exchange for supplies or favors.

Demons, sorcerers, and witches are a huge mixed-bag both in the value of their souls, but also how hard it is to reap them. Traps are good for low to mid level ones, but greater demons and powerful sorcerers require more finesse and time.

Demons, angels, and sorcerers/witches 100% use reapers as hitmen. Need a greater demon of pride's soul for a spell? Get yourself a reaper. Desperate to get out of a pact with some lowly witch? Ring ring ring reaper time, just be ready to pay up.

Angels aren't above getting a reaper to do their dirty work but are known for forcing tough/bad bargains, thus Thirteen's distaste of the celestial realm. At worst petty grudges, rivalries, and grudges between angels will often result in reapers being forced to reap human souls before their time. At their best, angels will sic reapers onto particularly thorny demons.

I've got more but this is looking like a wall and I'm more interesting in opening the doors of possibility left carelessly unopened by Solmare.

[vlovann]

Hazbin Boss: A Theory ⚠️ SPOILERS for “Full Moon” And “Apology Tour”!!!⚠️

I’m super curious if this is gonna end up with a crossover to Hazbin Hotel at some point.

First

I think Blitzø and I.M.P are going one of two ways.

1. After a week or so of Blitzø not having energy to do anything, I.M.P will crash for a while because…while he has everything he needs to make his business even more successful, it’s not even worth it because in the end since the visitation of him and Stolas is what kept it together. With his new revelations, he’ll refuse to use it out of guilt for using Stolas. If there’s no hope for them, there’s no hope for anything else. They’ll all need to get different jobs. Honestly, I can see Blitzø working at a fast food joint as a bitter employee or being a job hopper because he can’t find anything that really sparks him like, y’know, his own business. Maybe he’d lose everything and him and Loona would have no choice but to move in with Moxxie and Millie (to their own dismay), causing a kind of roommate sitcom dynamic. Despite their help and attempts to comfort, this is the lowest Blitzø has been in his life. They can’t help him. He’s entered his darkest depression.

He just stays glued to his phone on the couch until he sees a reminder of Stolas, has a mental breakdown, and then watches TV to distract himself.

OR

2. It’ll go the corporate route, partially (entirely) out of post-it’s complicated spite and a manic episode, Blitz DOES use the gem to boost his business. They’ll move out of that business complex and into a shiny new building. They’ll recruit more employees to receive bounties with a whole system, more hitmen, etc. Everything is changing for the “good of the company”, but really, it’s all a distraction from how Blitzø really feels. Like something is missing. Like Stolas is missing.

They have a grand reopening party and the OG crew watches Blitzø interacting with a bunch of other prospects and investors and realize it’s not that close knit family anymore. They don’t have anymore say on how things operate and they’ve become subordinates (I hate that word). He’d be pushing them away, maybe even to the point of resigning as well. This would nearly send Blitzø past the point of return. Having the same results as #1.

BUT THEN

They seem to be inching towards the same premise of forgiveness that makes up the basis of Hazbin Hotel. Maybe Blitzø will try therapy. But all of them in hell are too fucked up, so he uses his gauntlet to go to earth in disguise, see how fucked the US healthcare system is, making a bigger hitlist than ever before.

It splits again here. Either he’ll try one therapist for like two weeks and think he knows more than the therapist like people who can’t admit when they’re wrong seem to think.

OR

he’ll try a bunch of different therapists, none of them fit whether they talk too much or too little, give him homework, send him to a mental health institution where he promptly breaks out…when he finds a $ex therapist who has pride stuff everywhere, is LGBT and Kink affirming, asks him his pronouns, etc. (He did NOT know this was a thing). It goes well and he actually notices small changes.

BUUUTTTT just as things started going well, something happens to the gauntlet and he can’t get to the mortal realm.

Sometime after is when he sees Charlie’s commercial on the TV for the Hotel and finds his way to get help.

I ran out of hypothetical juice. I’ll repost if I come up with something, but I need FOOD.

[pianocat939]

Great Celina!! I have came far and wide to ask you ... HCs/theories on Yandere big mama BUT! He was raised by big mama instead of splints ~ 👀 love to see what you come up with

Hello traveler from afar! I shall heed your request!

Tw: Leo tries to eat bugs, betrayal, manipulation, murder and kidnapping at the yandere part (it's towards the bottom)

Theory on Leo if Big Mama was his Parent

(Now before we actually begin I assume you’re talking about Leo because I did briefly touch on a former post about it but if you were talking about all 4 I apologize.)

The only possible way I can see Leo being even in Big Mama's clutches in the first place is if Lou Jitsu dropped him on accident while trying to escape Draxum's lab. It can be both in the yokai or human world but either way, bro got left behind.

Big Mama finds a poor turtle baby and decides to take him home since there was no one to keep her company after Lou went dashy-dash on her. And guess what, she is a surprisingly great mom.

Spiders are known to just straight up leave their babies as soon as they are born, but as she is a yokai, not an animal, so she has empathy for infant Leo. She would do the things that society would consider a "loving mother". Although some of her spider behaviour does change a few things: she feeds him bugs, nips him lightly if she's in her spider form, and carries him around in her silk threads.

Oh, and he picks up her accent lmao.

By the time he's a child/pre-teen stage, he is 100% brat. He'll mess up his mummy's hotel decorations, steals food from the chefs, and do anything a child can think of. But there's one thing that's the most important in this stage, his development of manipulation. Not only is he the son of the owner of Grand Nexus Hotel, but he is also a child. And children can get away with anything if they use the right words.

Whenever he causes mischief and someone tries to report him on it, he'll do puppy eyes with a hint of sadness in his voice, and before you know it, he deceives the staff member. This lets him get away a few times until Big Mama notices his talent with words.

She starts giving him little tasks such as "Try to get that dealer to give you that fruit for free," or "Have that little boy let you play with his toys". This slowly starts turning gears in Leo's head and by the time he's a teen he helps his mummy out in "assisting" customers.

So the day when the turtles meet Big Mama, imagine their surprise when they see another turtle dressed in fine formal wear. The other 3 boys always heard stories from Splinter about how they had a missing brother that has red marks on his face. There was no possibility that he isn't their brother.

As expected, Mikey runs up to him in a big hug, which is lightly shrugged off by Leo as he thinks Mikey is just another customer. He's bombarded with questions from Donnie and Mikey but he waves his hand and walks off, stating he needs to attend to his job.

Skip forward to the time Big Mama reveals her yokai form and the two groups start fighting. Midway through the battle, Leo attacks one of them, most likely Donnie as he is the easiest to target. Donnie feels betrayed and painstakingly says 'brother' but Leo only laughs and retorts he's not their brother.

So now he's their eternal enemy.

Ok now for some Yandere Hcs because that's my job now.

He's not too different when compared to his normal counterpart but there are a few noticeable changes in his personality.

He tends to do some more indirect actions such as having hitmen, or throwing people in the Battle Nexus whenever there's a rival. If he's really feeling murderous though, he'll fight them right in the arena.

He doesn't have an "I feel useless" problem like normal Leo either. Instead, he has a more possessive and "what would you do without me" type of thing.

If he is to kidnap MC, they're going to be trapped in the Hotel as that is where he is often times and the security guards/cameras are everywhere (the staff does not want to upset Big Mama's son, he has a horrible temper if things don't go as planned).

If I were to summarize everything, he's a mix of normal Leo and Donnie.

——————————————————

Something tells me he would try to crawl around like a spider as a kid.

- Celina

[optiwashere]

Written for Femslash February 2024 for the prompt, "Lipstick."

Because I can't help myself, I'm perpetually writing angsty pining situations for Nocturne/Shadowheart. Why do I do this to them? I can only blame myself.

It's also a bit connected to the sorta dynamic I want to have in an AU idea that's been tickling my brain for months.

Rating: T

Category: F/F

Ship: Nocturne/Shadowheart

Tags: Pre-Canon, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, Angst, Pining, Unrequited Love, Memory Alteration, Assassins & Hitmen, Trans Female Character

Summary:

The art of Sharran manipulation requires the use of poisons of all kinds to extract information or, in the case of Shadowheart's current assignment, to make a statement. To prove that Shar can be anywhere and everywhere there are shadows if she wishes. Nocturne only wishes she didn't have to be the one to prepare her for such a task.

[a-libra-writes]

hi! i was planning to do some gang kinda like inspired by Marigold!

im trying to find like roles or maybe ranks if thats what they are called?? ( examples : triggerman...hitman..hijacker..) but somehow. I cant find like more ranks or. Something- (yes i researched—) i dunno if you can help me out—

thank you!!!

Oh theres not really official "ranks" and names unless youre going mafia or yakuza. So here's my suggestions on writing a general 1920's gang, and kinda what I followed for my gang in Devil's Moon:

So first decide what kind of illicit business they're in. This can be multiple things. Is it bootlegging, illegal imports, gambling, drugs, robbery, prostitution, etc? From there you can decide how large the operation is, and from the size you can figure the size of the gang.

You'll need a leader. The idea guy, the charismatic one, the one who keeps it all together.

Then the leader's number two - this can be a more violent enforcer type, or a more analytical type who fudges the numbers. Your leader could even have both, with one person handling numbers/"legitimate" business and the other being in charge of the violence or transportation of goods.

Triggermen, torpedos, gangsters, etc are the ones with the guns. They threaten and kill and dispose of bodies. Not all gangsters will be straight murderers, but they'll certainly help rough someone up and/or dispose of evidence.

A bootlegger is simply someone who transports illegal booze. They can also be a triggerman, or at least carry a gun just in case. They can operate on their own, with a partner, or with a whole caravan of trucks.

(Hitmen tend to fall under two categories: specialized and expensive career killers or a schmuck dumb enough to agree to the hit and will probably get caught/killed soon after)

Then you've got people in charge of numbers - book keeping to hide dirty money, evading taxes, keeping up with those who owe money, etc. And the people who help run fronts - fake businesses to hide dirty money and gang activity- if your gang has a cover like that.

The gang can be small, medium or large. The members can take on multiple roles, esp if it's small. The gang's territory can encompass just a few neighborhoods, a chunk of the city, etc. Lots of local speakeasies were everywhere in the 1920's, and organized crime exploded in all directions. You have a lot to work with.

Anyhoo, hope this makes sense!

You can also decide what brings them together: being family is an easy way to do this, but non-blood related gangmembers can be even closer than family. It cant be just money and intimidation, there has to be a little more to tie a person to a life of crime. There should be desperation there, no alternative. Bonds forged in blood and "well, we're both in the shit now". It's about money, territory and pride.

[golden-reedwolf]

I always find it amusing when people say it was different in the 90s or crime was lower back then because that was definitely not the case everywhere.

Some stories from my childhood:

We grew up in an area with a lot of drug issues and related crime. A lot of our neighbour's either took drugs or dealt them (or both) and burglaries and robberies were common. One time someone got into our building and broke into our flat by literally kicking the door in (luckily we were out at the time). One of our upstairs neighbours heard and managed to scare them off so they only got a few small items. It was still pretty scary.

A lot of our neighbor's had undiagnosed/untreated mental health issues which lead them to erratic behaviour. Our next door neighbour was one of the harmless ones, but she would still cause issues. She would often knock on our door in the middle of the night for a chat or go through everyone's rubbish bins and leave rubbish thrown all over the street. I remember her once giving me a bag filled with dolls limbs lmao. She also gave me a live toad once??? She was also a serious hoarder and would often flood her flat so that the firemen would have to come and "save" her.

Our local kids play park was also a popular hangout for drug takers and people getting drunk. Most kids were banned from using the sandpit because it was very common to find used needles left in there (it was such a problem it would get reported about on the local news all the time as kids were getting injured as a result). One time I fell over at that park and cut the palm of my hand to ribbons on a broken beer bottle.

Our landlord was also a literal criminal. He was notorious in our city for his criminal behaviour. He would often use extreme intimidation and violence on his tenants if they were late with rent or something. He also hired hitmen to kill his business partner and somehow got away with it. Also his middle name was Adolf and he proudly called himself a Nazi and a fascist, so that tells you everything you need to know about him.

Even after we moved to a much safer area there was still a fair amount of crime around. For example, someone was murdered in our neighbouring street. Also a year or two after we moved a notorious pedophile abducted, assaulted and murdered a 7 year old girl just a few miles from where we were living. So yeah, I don't really blame my parents for not giving us much freedom as kids.

[poorlittlegreenie13]

Hello! I hope you're doing well!!!

First things first, I wanted to let you know how much I love your writing. I hope you know just how talented you are. Your Wylan/Jesper Hitmen AU lives in my head rent free.

My friend and I were just looking for one of your WIPs from the Six of Crows fandom. It was INCREDIBLE. I remember it was a modern AU with Wylan and Jesper. Wylan was dating someone else, and Jesper was not handling it well. My friend and I were chatting about how we were hooked. We searched everywhere and cannot find it. Did you decided to remove it from Ao3? Or did you perhaps orphan it?

If you would be willing to share any leads we would be forever grateful! Either way, thank you so, so, so much for writing. :-) You are an absolute gift to the fandom!

Hi! Sorry I just saw this! That's really sweet, thanks haha. Truth be told, I was doing really badly that week and I got annoyed at a plot mistake I made in one of the chapters so I took the whole story down lol... sorry! People ask about it semi-frequently, so maybe I'll revise & repost with the final chapter. Thanks for reaching out!

[matfinishfuckstheworld]

haven't done enough 'self care' today been just zoomin zoomin zoomin doing chores most of the day (and socialising which is Good but tiring). so. entire meme time.

s/i meme :D

give us a quick run down of your s/i!!

mat finish is basically just my Ideal Self. they are a sadomasochistic hedonist, they are shameless, they are an assassin. all of these are somehow intrinsic to my identity because i've always loved hitmen and to me violence and sex have always been the same thing.

post a meme that describes your s/i.

where does your s/i live? do they aspire to move or are they content with where they are?

mat tends to travel the world and occupy wherever they need to. sometimes they will settle and be a cool city assassin who is tied to a specific mob or similar.

but often they struggle with commitment, just like me, and the natural ebb and flow of attention on their activities leads them to drift around more. it's a necessity more than a choice.

often it's the f/o that makes them want to settle down anywhere.

what's a song that describes your s/i? even better if you have a playlist!

okay here is a random one from their playlist.

leather by tori amos is so good because it is so sexy and so tragic.

i think that sense of seeking sensation in a dizzying way but ultimately falling victim to wanting to be loved tender. it's the thing that is 'missing' for them (not for everyone! just for them).

thats their inherent contradiction.

what is your s/i's profession?

mat is an assassin, but as stated, it tends to be fairly random as to how and what subset. i put them everywhere because most of my fandoms are crime-themed or crime-adjacent, so it is easy to stick them just about anywhere.

what does your s/i have most in common with you? what's different about them?

we both want to fuck the same people lol. we are both desperate for affection.

as for differences... i do not murder people!!! but i am i would say a work in progress who is trying to learn to be less hurtful to the people in my life, and i feel a great amount of guilt for the way i have been in the past. perhaps thats why ive always had an affinity for villainous characters and why i take such a sick pleasure in punishing mat for their extreme and unambiguous crimes.

mat has a higher pain tolerance (and pain/arousal threshold) than i ever could. i'm the kind of person who it takes a few tries to get what i need done at the doctors and thats if i manage at all. i want tattoos someday but i am nervous about wasting my deposit if it's too much for me. so mat is wish fulfilment in that aspect. they are resilient in such a twisted way and i would much prefer that to what i am now. i am soooo drawn to violence and to the idea of having my mind and body made into a canvas for someone elses designs and abuse. but i can't actually do that. :(

as psychological masochists we are about equal, but there's only so much that mp3s can do to my addled brain whereas mat gets real horrible people who want to get inside their mind and do horrible and irreversible things to break them down.

if your s/i was an animal, what would they be?

tricky to say. i think they are dog-coded. this is counter to me as i think i'm pretty cat-coded lol. but call them a good boy and you can see the wagging tail in their eyes!!!

maybe they could be a wolf. (i think so too.) stereotyped as an independent and brutal predator, but actually dependent on the protection of those around them.

how did you get the idea for your s/i's backstory?

mat was originally a vbros oc because i wanted a venturesona who could fuck rusty and brock lol. and there are such sexually charged assassins in the vbros universe. so it was a natural fit for my interests. i decided that because herr trigger was just such a fun design and concept (he literally fucks his guns and i am SUCH a gunfucker.), he was an ideal mentor for them, but generally outside of vbros canon they have a similar figure - a dangerous mentor they are raised by and who is responsible for the death of their parents, someone who is unerringly confident, sexually perverted but without involving them ('daddy needs his alone time with his ak-47 ok why don't you go outside and play with the ice machine'), someone they are all mixed up about - they look up to them, they want to be with them, they want to be them.

mat was intended to be that kind of deconstructive, 'where are they now' look at a specific child hero subtype the way that rusty is that for johnny qu3st. specifically, they are the trained killer girl who is all grown up and had so much transmasc swag that they weren't a girl actually and has a MULTITUDE of intimacy problems that they try to pave over with sensation and sick thrills.

give us an example s/i outfit (or describe it).

mat's signature look is all black. turtleneck + bondage harness that serves no actual purpose except to signal their perversion. big coat that they look a little too small for only further emphasised by the skintight rest of their ensemble. boots! boots.

what are some of your s/i's major skills?

well you see. they are very good at killing people. also masochism-as-superpower allowing them to withstand torture. very silly. but sexy.

what is your s/i afraid of?

their few extreme sources of pleasure becoming dulled over time until the only thing left is to fucking die.

they envy their marks, a lot.

if you had to compare your s/i to an already existing fictional character, who would it be?

well, given their first name and backstory, obviously mat is strongly inspired by math1lda lando. i have... difficult feelings about the film she originates from. i watched it constantly as a child while daydreaming about escaping my own abusive situation some similar way. being swept off my feet by a killer with a heart of gold and granted the power to execute my own revenge against everyone who ever wronged me. and falling in love with my killer mentor too even though they will never love me back.

then i found out about the backstory of why besson wrote that film, and what happened to portman during/after filming, and also i mean i only ever watched the european cut, and it all left such a disgusting taste in my mouth. i felt lied to even though all of the subtext was right there, but i was a kid! i didn't know better! so i guess i was eager to reclaim the feelings i had for the movie as a kid and rewrite them in a way that didn't have a genuinely harmful context.

the roles portman has done as an adult contributed to mat too, at least unconsciously. bl4ck swan is queer psychosexual fodder and it doomed me. and i mean, lé0n is not her only intimate fucked up mentor-mentee movie. v 4 vendetta is too. regardless of how you feel about the changes from the comic, that movie was sooooo much for me as a kid. the mindgames, the transformation through torture, the violent subversion, trans energy of becoming v (even though it was actually the comic that followed through on that properly) it was so formative to everything i value today.

this is the first time i have actually addressed their original inspiration publicly. it's a can of worms i was hesitant to open. in the same sense that vbros played with the kid hero archetypes and made them all fucked up adults with weird proclivities, mat is an expression of just another kid archetype in media, grown up and fucked up. so, in the same sense that rusty is so much more than just grown-up johnny quest, i would ask that mat is not seen as literally mathilda, because... they're not, and i think if they were, that would only be perpetuating the harm of the movie.

mat takes some cues from mathilda, but she wasn't their only inspiration. mat is ultimately just... me. they are the me that looked upon dizzying adolescence (spending most of it as a 'teenage girl') and suddenly being seen as a sex object with decreasingly safe clothing and behaviour options and the victim blaming terror of sexual assault and pregnancy being drummed into me and having nothing but abusive relationships as a model for romance. as an adult, i tried to carve out my own sexuality and vulnerability in a way that wasn't so fucking uncomfortable. i wanted to accept objectification and assault but in a degendered form, in a form that could also be tough-guy masculinity as much as it could also be the penetrability we inexplicably (well, explicably but we would be here all night) read as feminine. mat is the culmination of all of that work and psychodrama and i am rather pleased with how they have turned out and transcended their initial inspiration.

has your s/i's story changed since you created them or has it stayed relatively the same?

the basic premise has stayed the same, but they have different versions for different universes. so, of course vbros has canon characters to take the roles of people in their backstory, and i've been building up their dc version, manikin, solely to selfship with hugo, and then there's their psychon4uts version in the grulovian mob, at odds with the titular organisation.

[crungebunge]

Shossa, The Disconnected Lands

CITIES

Floritcher: A very cute and quaint farming town of halflings, kender, and satyrs. Farm plots hold huge pumpkins, squash, and apples - any fruit you want must be here. Tall grasses sway in the breeze and paint the land yellow as far as the mountains. The smell of baking apples and cinnamon fills the air, and the breeze is fresh as laundry. Tall trees break up yellow sunlight into fractured rays, and a babbling brook runs through the town from an old wheat mill. Donkeys and horses carry piles of hay back and forth, and it seems like everyone is outside today.

Indigo: Across the bridge from Catterwalk, lies Indigo. A grey and stony town ruled by a mad and cruel king of Kenku. Surrounded by a dense forest of fir trees. Houses are lifted and birdhouse-like, only birds may enter.

Indus and Revus: Twin-city towns of centaurs, who make beer, ale, and wine. Their strong backs carry flagons and transport grapes, their strong hooves mush grapes and plums and fruit, and their high reach grab fruit from tall trees. On very good standing and know pretty much everything. Surrounded by plains, these centaurs run for miles.

Kipper: A homeland of Leonins, though they are nomadic, this is where their religion takes root. They believe in the 7 Great Warriors, legends from long ago about 7 warriors who overthrew the ruler of Kipper long ago and made a homeland for Leonin kind. They bring offerings, ask to be blessed, get married, and have children inside the city, but live elsewhere. Ruled by Queen Liper, each nomadic tribe has its own leader who reports to her. She is very cruel and cold to outsiders.

Tortuga Bay: A pirate town on the coast full of thieves and robbers, vigilantes and hitmen, criminals and those in hiding. Its a seemingly perpetually-dark, dank city that smells like rotting seaweed and salt. Everywhere, men lay dead or drunk beyond saving. Fights break out in the worryingly swaying bars, people are thrown through windows with panes as thick as ale glasses. Every building represents a different fish - some have long decks with sharp railings like the underbite of an angler, some have fins to withstand the heavy sea winds, and some are outright built in the shape of a massive trout. Nobody rules this lawless land, and honestly, I don't think anyone could.

PLACES:

Purplehart Farm: Vineyard of green, red, and purple grapes that span miles. Inhabited by Halflings and dwarves low enough to pick the grapes.

Grommet Library: A library run by the massive Grommet family, a Harengone family of researchers. It goes several hundred feet into the earth on a cylinder, the center open and the books clinging to the walls as a spiral platform goes all the way down. The top is open in the center, and birds fly in and out.

Lisa's farm: A flower farm.

Forge of the Forefathers: Dwarven forge in the lower center, a huge workplace for the fire dwarves. Red hot and burning lava comes from deep underground and melts iron at molten temperatures. Many weapons are forged here.

Forest of Bones: Dense forest of fir trees and dead, skinny weir-wood trees. Thick with fog, graves, and loose trinkets of those who have gone missing or died suddenly. Huge, spiky rib bones of something massive hang thick moss trails and provide places for birds to nest.

The Sunwood: A sacred religious tree for those who Worship the Goddess of light. A massive tree full of fireflies.

Mountains of Aemog: Huge mountains. Pass of Theodore lets you through, one rickety, decommissioned bridge. Green mountains of dragons, lizardfolk, and moss monsters.

Openlands and Hillplace: Centaur territory, flatlands. Good for running

Forever Pits: pits straight into the earth.

[spinogreen0iq]

ACTUALLY after the ball (follow up)

Omgggg who could have guessed, there was another murder attempt after cara and Clarence left the ball-

Yes there were hitmen hired- again-

No one could have predicted this… (irony)

Anyway now the cute outfit is bloody cause his ass got shot… its not permanent, thanks to cara hes fine but still- BE MORE CAREFUL MAN

But anyway another color theory practice/win and I noticed ive been drawing more bloody stuff recently lol

Like his frikkin brain went EVERYWHERE

[cattatonically]

The Hitman's Guide to Staying Alive Despite Past Mistakes - Alice Winters (Hitman's Guide, book 2)

Synopsis

Jackson

Now that Leland’s decided to give up his life as a hitman and take a walk on the mild side, we’ve been enjoying a simple life of taking down bad guys the legal way. I didn’t know he would be just as reckless as a PI, but it’s not my fault if I happen to enjoy helping him hunt down the occasional criminal. If only I could keep the house from being overrun by Leland’s gun shrine—or stop him from making our cases “more exciting” by terrorizing people into confessing. Overall, life seems perfect, right?

Wrong.

We’ve been called in to investigate a suspicious murder committed by someone claiming to be the Sandman. When we find a note on the victim’s body, we realize that this could ruin our lives forever.

Leland

I wasn’t involved in the murder. It might look like my writing and my note, but I wouldn’t do that to Jackson—especially after I promised him that I wouldn’t take a hit ever again. At least, not without telling him. I’m finally starting to learn that we’re stronger together, and I’m not going to jeopardize that.

Luckily for both of us, this copycat doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. Game’s on, fake Sandman. You think you can mess with me? Well, maybe you can, but that’s beside the point, because I will protect Jackson no matter what, even if I almost drown him in the process. (Really, that wasn’t my fault. He should learn how to swim better.)

This 110k word book contains: Disco ball pinata, camping with Sasquatch, an acrobatic housekeeper named “Mr. Cleanyface,” a questionable massage table, weapons everywhere, Jackson’s nemesis—the fence, a turkey showdown, aerial silk antics, a reappearance of Blow-up Randy, over-the-top body armor, too many hitmen, and so many emotions that Leland’s chest might explode. This is the second book in a series—while you could read and enjoy it on its own, you really should read The Hitman’s Guide to Making Friends and Finding Love for maximum enjoyment.

My Thoughts

We find Leland and Jackson in a new house, with Leland now working full-time as a detective for Leland’s agency. Following the events of the first book, Jackson’s realized that Leland can’t quite give up all of the tricks of the hitman trade as easily as they thought he could. And it’s a good thing Leland has been keeping his skills sharp, too.

There’s a copycat out there following in Leland’s footsteps, and even leaving the same calling card after a kill – a note signed by the Sandman. While Leland is very much retired (mostly), having another Sandman running around is very, very dangerous. But mostly, Leland just wants to know who is doing it, and why.

And finding those answers is, honestly, quite terrifying. Leland’s past come back to haunt him – almost literally – in a very big way, which puts everyone he cares about at risk. And from that moment on, it’s really just constant motion. There’s barely a moment for anyone to breathe as Jackson and Leland focus on keeping their loved ones safe.

Again, there’s a rather big twist that I really should have seen coming, but didn’t. Winters is pretty great at diverting my attention just enough so that I don’t see the gigantic red flag waving right in front of my face. It certainly keeps me on my toes!

In the end, our ragtag team comes out on top – and they’ve made a new friend along the way! Another hitman who was trained by the man who trained Leland. Cassel is going to be a very interesting addition to the detective agency, and very likely the reason Jackson finally loses his mind. Leland on his own his enough chaos personified – but now there’s another person with a very similar brand of chaos. It’s going to be a very, very interesting ride going forward.

[vomitnest]

been reflecting on my last psychotic break as well as some of the conspiracy theory bullshit from my youth which i gradually grew out of. this of course leads me to also contemplate the stuff that i haven't seemed to have entirely put behind me. it's interesting to sort of compare and contrast and see what stuck and what didn't. for some reason i feel like i need to sort it out. as if it will be good to have a better grip on what exactly i do and don't believe is real before my next episode unfolds. hopefully there won't be another one but i always think it's my last one until it's not. it doesn't seem one hundred percent preventable. and i'm not sure this will help. no harm, no foul i suppose.

anyway so when i'm having an episode my brain tries to figure out what the fuck is going on in the world to try to explain what appears to be happening with the people around me (and when i say people around me that includes basically everyone including people in the workplace, the store, the internet, the TV, the radio, the press.)

during this last episode my theory of what was going on was kind of a hodge podge of stuff all spun together which included a lot of the usual suspects: big finance, big media, big pharma, the fbi, the cia, the nsa, intelligence organizations, espionage, agent provocateurs, psyops, brainwashing, sleeper agents, mk-ultra, cointelpro, psychiatry in the military, mass surveillance, PMSC's, militias, misinformation, vigilantes, institutional gaslighting, gangstalking, targeted individuals, human trafficking, carceral psychiatry, medical kidnap, emergency custody orders, forced hospitalizations, institutionalization, detention centers, child protective services, public corruption, crooked judges, crooked cops, organized crime, street gangs, economic hitmen, corporate malfeasance, the church, the military, the press, operation mockingbird, operation paperclip, project bluebook, area 51, nato, tigerswan, skunkworks.

a lot of this stuff is probably not in actuality something that is very pervasive or experienced by very many people. mk-ultra, for example. or even human trafficking or medical kidnap. when i'm delusional it seems to be everywhere and i'm right in the middle of it all and it includes everyone and people are in on it and shit. it's really dark and bizarre. and i always seem to suspect that aliens fit into it somehow as well. fairly standard conspiracy theory stuff. with its own angle. but yeah i basically tried to fit everything into it that one might expect. even adrenochrome, the vatican, cults... but it's not like each part is of equal relevance or importance to the whole. some things are most likely just bizarre stuff happening on the fringes that don't have much to do with anything. hypothetically speaking, of course.

but i still have questions about it now. what is the crux of it all. what is happening essentially. in a nutshell. (as far as conspiracy stuff goes). and how much does the therapeutic state actually have to do with it. or "dark psychology" or psychiatry or "manufactured consent" or social engineering or mind-control. the science of predicting and controlling human behavior. spies. cons. psyops. secret societies. psychological warfare. those sorts of things seem like they might not be as pervasive as the more general problem of algorithms and mass media, bad politics, journalism, misinformation, talking heads...

again, this question: how much does the therapeutic state actually have to do with it.

to answer that, and to extrapolate a basic framework of what is happening in general, it probably helps to look at what sorts of people in particular are being oppressed. obviously mentally ill people and those who are labeled mentally ill aren't the only ones. it's much broader and more diverse, including poor and working class people, bipoc, lgbtq, leftists, religious minorities, etc.

so i don't know. psychiatry does have a horrific history and has demonstrated that it can be a powerful instrument of coercion and repression. for example the diagnosis of drapetomania. or the subproject 68 mk-ultra experiments in montreal. i do believe the therapeutic state is real, but that maybe it is just one aspect of many other equally important facets of the larger clusterfuck that is the military-industrial complex and beyond.

apparently, the way to deal with this is through concerted collective action. class struggle, specifically. not conscious consumerism, or clicktivism, or decalcifying the pineal gland, or boycotting amazon, or buying local, or eating organic, or any of that new age david icke reptilian bullshit. activating the chakras, drinking ayahuasca, doing yoga and meditation to escape the matrix. more often than not, the whole spiritual rigmarole is an ego trip. it's not enlightenment. it's no more helpful than virtue signaling. or driving an electric car. it doesn't make you more human or more soulful or free, much less pose any substantial challenge to the system or contribute anything of value to the plight of civilization in the grand scheme of things. if you want to be free, if you want to be more deeply human, if you want to contribute something of value to the real struggle, you have to get away from these entirely individualistic approaches. the garden variety "self-help" spiritual narcissism that's being peddled to people as a viable way out is an unfortunate distraction. there's nothing wrong with focusing on individual solutions as long as there is equal importance given to collective direct action. it will not help for people to try to beat the system as enlightened individuals "doing their part". whether that's conscious consumerism or personal wellness or going off the grid. or shamelessly blogging on tumblr about the weirdest shit ever because it feels like the right thing to do at the time. class consciousness and class struggle is the difference between real solutions and false consciousness.