#how blood and water mix para

[sweetwildsyle]

The orc blood was scattered throughout the pit, mixing with her own, and her opponent’s now pooled from his lifeless body to soak the dirt. Spasms shot through her muscles in preparation for more, to not die yet. Survive. Survive survive survive. For us. Upon hearing the voices, her eyes fluttered as the small gathering of the dozen or so howled with delighted laughter, the scent of expensive alcohol flooding her nose.

“Aqua para la campeona!” Water. She rushed over to who called out the offer, hands slamming against the wall in anticipation of her drink. “Tomar, tomar, gran Tsunami!” A slow pour began, and cupped hands guided the water to slake her thirst before swiping at her fresh nicks and cuts that bled. Nothing like her counterpart on the ground, the red, iron liquid colouring the packed dirt. Every pulse of her heart was felt, throbbing in her neck in reminder that she still stood. How fortunate she was to breathe and continue–

The hair on her nape stood on end. Something was wrong.

Falling apart was her only known world upon the double doors slamming open. Screams clashed of different tongues and orders, and Tsunami was flabbergasted as she watched a member of the audience — ever watchful and enamored in the horrific displays she brought — was skewered. The master’s wife. A hasty step was taken back, her heart going wild to rather watch instead of being the one who performed the acts. The draconic troupe of three sent the drow scrambling, some unwisely jumping into the pit. Muscles burned, and bones ached to defend herself. She whirled around as something sounded behind her: her Master.

As his magic lingered, he hissed, “Nosotros nos vamos,” while whipping away from her to dart into the catacombs where she and the others were brought before matches. “Me sigues.”

Disobedience was not an option, and she rushed to follow through the familiar halls.

Although the walls were fortified against the heavy earth, the smell of loss was stronger than that of the minerals. What were to be her opponents stirred at the two’s intrusion but knew to remain silent as to avoid a reckoning. Silence would always provide safety against those above. Harm did not come upon the obedient. She would always be aware of that.

Knowledge of obedience did not change the way her skin currently crawled and how she swore she could feel hands grabbing at her to push forward. Whispers turned to murmurs turned to jabbers, and the voices all agreed on one thing: Kill him.

His eyes were frightful as her hands wrapped around his throat, squeezing to prevent not so much as a sliver of air through. The master’s gaze was everywhere around her upon the enraged specters whose hands joined her own to suffocate him, and for minutes they remained until his pulse had faded with the roaring in her ears.

While she rose to her feet, the world continued to spin. Tsunami picked up the body that lorded over her for so long, and hollowness filled her gut. Carrying the feeling, she began to trek back by following a route too familiar.

[niklaus-no-mans-son-blog]

How Blood and Water Mix ||  VN Fallen

@bexmikaclson @the-noble-mikaelson @littlestxwitch @marcelxthexking

Will I grow weary of the sun, remembering what I have done with old mythologies?

How was it that he had been relegated to the role of voice of reason? In his thousand years, he couldn’t remember ever being looked to as the paragon of restraint or levelheadness. Honestly, not a once. And yet here he was. 

“Bekah, love, you’ve had scores of truly dreadful ideas over the years, but honestly you’ve outdone yourself this time. Really. I’m actually impressed.” The words were whispered because they stood just outside the gate to Lafayette Cemetery, and while witches didn’t have the same talent for eavesdropping as wolves or vampires, he had no intentions of announcing their presence. Perhaps this Paragon Diamond would work, perhaps his blood would be a powerful enough channel to carry this through, but what he didn’t understand was why it all had to happen in the same bloody place it had started. It was just poetic enough be exactly what a witch had planned. 

“The minute we pass that gate we are on their territory. We are supposed to be p r o t e c t i n g her. Not delivering her on a silver platter.” The ‘her’ in question was in a bad way, and Klaus felt the weight of his promise suffocate him with every passing minute. The truth was, he didn’t know what would save Davina. He didn’t know if this would work, and if it did, would it work in time?

[the-faultofdaedalus]

Big Fuckin Hanahaki Meta Post

technically, this is a fill for the stevetony games (square: breath, challenge: metagaming), but it is also just going to be an essay on most of my thoughts about hanahaki, aka that fandom trope where you cough up flowers till you die of unrequited love. so this is just going to be an extremely long post, likely with multiple sections, about hanahaki.

under a cut, because this shit is gonna get LONG!

what is hanahaki?

hanahaki is a trope where someone who has a feeling of unrequited love begins coughing up flowers as a physical representation of those unrequited feelings. having hanahaki is generally fatal unless cured by the feelings being requited, beyond that, everything’s up to interpretation. and whoo boy do i have some Interpretations.

for one, what is hanahaki? like, in-universe, what actually is it? your answer may vary! a lot of the time it just Is, no explanation given, which is perfectly valid. sometimes things just Are, sometimes you want to use the trope without having to think so hard about your worldbuilding. sometimes hanahaki is clearly magical in nature: a curse or a spell. i’ve seen it used that way a lot in s/t fandom, when the writer feels like they need a reason for it to exist.

of course, the answer i love is that hanahaki is what it appears to be: a parasitic plant that preys on human beings, much like a much more fucked-up version of cordyceps fungus. and from that, there’s also so many options for how it behaves, and how it affects it’s unfortunate host. 

maybe it’s a generally benign infection, a part of a large part of the population that only becomes a problem when exposed to whatever extremely specific mix of hormones and physiology come from the host experiencing the feeling of unrequited love. maybe there’s treatments to make it less dangerous, maybe it’s just a normal part of life. maybe it usually comes and fades like colds or stomach bugs with childhood crushes and fleeting infatuations, or even with unrequited feelings for things that aren’t people or aren’t alive, like the kind of longing you get for homesickness or wanderlust.

maybe it’s something horrible, something dangerous, something on the biohazard level of smallpox and something that’s been eradicated with the same amount of determination. maybe it’s more like cordyceps than just the parasitic part: maybe once it infects it’s host and gets it’s roots in deep enough it starts manipulating them. maybe the cause to effect is backwards: it’s not unrequited love causing the hanahaki disease, it’s the hanahaki causing those feelings, that very rapidly degrade to obsession as the plant further takes over the mind of the host. maybe hanahaki doesn’t kill it’s host in body, but in mind. maybe the true horror comes not from having this thing living inside you that is using your feelings to kill you, but from your loved ones watching you loose your mind until you are truly no longer you anymore.

another very fun part to the parasite part of hanahaki is the physiology of it, and not on the host’s side. I like to imagine tiny, delicate plants, with tiny pale leaves that curl up inside the pockets of the host’s lungs. i like to think about roots thin enough to wind between cells and into the blood stream, greedy for the water and nutrients within. i like to think of it hiding, for a long, long time as it grows, until it blooms, right where the two main stem bronchi join, right at the perfect place for the host to spread itself to other hosts with their cough. i like to think of it slowly and steadily infiltrating the entire cardiovascular and respiratory system of the host, until it’s big and strong and integrated itself enough that it doesn’t have to care about hiding, until it can start tearing it’s host apart from the inside out.

(the hanahaki of my dreams has a haploid-diploid life cycle, where part of it’s life cycle is actually not as a parasite, but as a proper plant growing out of the corpse, and that is the infectious state of it. the parasitic stage of it is for reproductive purposes and also so it can spread itself around, and when it kills it’s host, the new baby plant as a nice pile of nutrients to get started.)

additions and variations of the trope

an additional trope i’ve seen for hanahaki is the cures: lots of the time, the cure is simple, just get those feelings requited! but some concepts i’ve seen have it able to be physically removed entirely safely, with the one caveat being that the host will loose whatever feelings they have for the object of their affection. i love this an incredible amount because it’s picking between your ability to love someone specific and dying horribly. truly we LOVE this.

another personal thought i have re: the plant parasite version of hanahaki, is that whatever plant family it’s in (likely some extremely cursed outgroup mostly related to a liverwort), the plant that causes sex pollen is also in that family. it Just Makes Sense!

writers also often go heavy into flower symbolism, which i very much love thinking about. of course, if you’re going hard sci-fi realistic on hanahaki, you can’t really get specific flowers out of this (we have some extreme size restraints, in terms of space to grow, and also having multiple types of existing flowers coming out of someone’s mouth raises some questions about what family hanahaki theoretically belongs in) but if you’re not, go nuts, it’s fun! i love flower symbolism, i love flower-mimics, i also love the ideas that some “strains” of hanahaki could be way less deadly than others. dandelions are soft and fluffy and it’s leaves are generally not too irritating, if you’re some unfortunate motherfucker who gets a cactus in your lungs, super rip. 

I also love thinking about flower symbolism in a world where flowers have become a disease. how would symbolism be different in a world where they could kill you from the inside out, how would it be influenced by that? i love thinking about it, i love thinking about cultural responses to hanahaki and how different groups of people could carry different strains of hanahaki and therefor have different views on it. there’s a lot of really fun worldbuilding for it!

the emotions that come with it (from fluff to angst)

above all the best (and most intrinsic part) of hanahaki is how it allows the absolute microscopic look at emotions of characters, at, specifically, a longing. It’s both a way to make the kind of pain someone might feel from wanting something that hard and feeling like they can never have it a real, physical harm, like some kind of validation. in some way, it reads as very queer: the love that you have for someone is going to be the reason that you hurt. 

sometimes, hanahaki feels very neat with how it fits into existing emotions - you long for something, and it hurts, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

sometimes, it feels incredibly unfair. you love something, and it’s a feeling that makes you better, makes you happier, even if it could never be requited. it’s still a good feeling. it’s something you don’t regret feeling. and yet you’re hurting for it anyways. you’ll die for it, anyways. and there’s always a very fun conflict when that’s the case, where you wish that you didn’t feel this way, and also resent the disease for making you feel this way.

there’s the desire to not tell anyone, to hide this disease, in order to not guilt the object of your affection into anything. in a darker note, there’s also doing so intentionally, to make them love you.

with the parasite version, theres a more standard kind of emotion, the horror of something killing you inside-out.

and with the cure, discussed earlier? the conflict between wanting these feelings, and not wanting to die, the fear that you’ll loose this good thing, or that you’ll ruin something with the person you love.

and then, of course, the relief and joy and disbelief when it’s revealed and it turns out they do love you, they do, and it’s a doubly-joyful event because it’s both a relief of very real illness and the purely emotional happiness of having someone love you back.

why it works so well with stevetony

i don’t think i’ve seen any stevetony universe where there hasn’t been a deep and agonizing longing present, to some degree. i think it’s most present in a lot of 616 fics, where there is just so much history between the two of them, so much desire to be near eachother, and so much fear over loosing the other, to death, to disagreements, to simple distance, and in the comics, adding this kind of fatal incentive feels very natural.

mcu, as well, has that same kinda longing, but combined with the pain of loosing those chances not just because of not saying anything, but because it’s never the right time.

both of these have enough personal conflict that you could have hanahaki coming and going, or, alternatively (and angstier!) not coming and going. both have enough character death that you get to decide for yourself if someone being dead counts as unrequited.

i dont have anything specific to say about ultimates, but trust me ults hanahaki has gotta be super fun. 

it just fits very well with the kind of longing, and the kind of wanting, that happens so much in fanworks for these canons. it also fits a lot with some of the themes for both characters (of tony falling in love so quickly and so easily and getting hurt for it almost every time, of steve falling in love and waiting too long to do anything about it, of wasting his chance every time)

all these canons also have some very similar potential regarding chronic illness, with all the tonies from these universes having either heart problems or cancer, and all of the steves being pretty sick before rebirth, and hanahaki fits very neatly into those themes. there’s also, again, a decent amount of queer metaphors you can wring out of the hanahaki trope, and even excepting the fact that stevetony is m/m in most universes, the fandom at large, especially the 616 fandom, very much puts a lot of queer history into their fanworks, and i think that hanahaki is another very good metaphor in that toolkit.

conclusions

hanahaki is very good and everyone should do more with it. thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[solorero]

—  SELF PARA,  THE  VOTING.

18th of july, 2021. 

solomon. sol. solomon romero. the first vote was met with confusion, but it quickly turned into a sour anger as the cogs began turning behind dark eyes. the concept had its benefits, and that much he could admit: weed out suspicion, stomp on the snakes. realistically, as his faith had proven, they were all creatures of flaw and vengeance, some tactical geniuses tossed into the mix too; even without a grand plan, accusing him could result in a big target being down, even if only for a night and day. as yet as another vote was cast ( not me this time, but really, rita getting rid of the horsemen right now? ridiculous notion. ), the dominion reevaluated his own accusations, expecting to find his own dose of grudges tarnishing all logic, but he’d been careful enough some minutes ago. as much as he wished to see most of those present sweat, wasting time interrogating the wrong people was almost as criminal as his record. such was the hard balance, which some could say he periodically lost, between heart and head. maybe he would have yelled out the most acidic names, the ones whose scar map he could link to, or the one who came from the very same nest as him. and maybe he would have blamed for war the man he’d already been privately accusing of other kinds of treason, who’d left him accidentally wounded, flesh ripe for war’s infection. but this was also the teaching he’d gained through war and especially through gabrielle, so a tongue was bitten without even thinking about it. 

i could have done it. he gloated in silence, on the fourth accusation. he’d helped gabrielle warden with the aftermath of michaela pinkett’s husband - not that they knew of that, oh how he could imagine their bloodthirst if they did. he’s skilled enough to pull something, if anything given the decades of criminal contacts he could hit up to help with the logistics of such an undertaking. but why would he have come up with such a plan all by himself? it would be ruin to try to take over war and the rest within the same week. if they considered that this was war’s doing, then gabrielle asking him to carry out the plan would lead to an obvious ‘yes’. war’s horsemen complicated things. 

no one heard us. solomon had fought the urge to immediately look at kashvi when his name was first said, two guilty ones being accused just days later. their conversation on friday night replayed on his mind, but it was simply impossible that someone had access to it. was his hunger visible to outsiders too? gabrielle knew of it, but he’d always considered her privileged in how much she knew without him saying. as if he’d had a choice. that too was another delusion. 

he grabbed his own knee hard, where a bruise lived, in order to keep him away from the cliffs hedge in his mind, always so damn close to jumping into the water. it was hard to resist it, as dozens of voices pleaded with him from below the sharp rocks, but he knew that to leap would be a choice with no return. your house is full of spies, they watch you from behind the mirror. should have checked behind the garden wall, someone would be out of sight. your camera footage was edited, you should have zoomed into every corner. kashvi was setting you up. gabrielle was setting you up. this was all a set up. he dug into that bright purple bruise with the same strength he’d used to crush a windpipe. 

solomon romero has been a loyal servant of war for twenty two years. he’s seen two horsemen in his life, he’s seen power shifts, power gaps, fresh and old blood, and yet he’s remained. he’s been a dominion for nearly fourteen years, a current seraphim having been a member of war altogether for less time. and yet he’s remained. a fixture just as stable as prehistoric ruins, and yet just as forgotten, left to blend with the weeds. he could be accused of much over the years, and would accept most of it with a smile, but to imply that he was a disloyal soldier was blasphemous. solomon could attack other horsemen, fuck the truce, fuck their lives and ambitions, fuck hierarchy; but if the story included gabrielle warden, it would be foolish to imagine romero doing anything that would risk her safety or her wishes.

i would have never done this to you. he’d nodded at some accusations, laughed at others, whispered in anger at a few, but those of his fellow war members dug a knife deep between his ribs. his own war accusation was reasonable, something he was certain samir understood too. if he’d been alone with gabrielle, he would have indicted himself, call it a fit of madness or a strategic movement. what he would have never considered doing is point a finger at one of his own. this wasn’t pestilence, scarred with snake bites, nor death, made up of theatrical vengeance. for the first time in over two decades, however, solomon realised that this wasn’t famine either. this wasn’t a family in any sort of way, regardless of how he had been treating it. i’m just staff. he’s surrendered half of his life to an agreement that was meant to continuously evolve, and yet has been stagnant, with no intentions to ever change. astrid, liam, domenico. he couldn’t murder them with his eyes, even if they so did try, but the list was burned into his brain with the most painful of sizzles. those very same eyes did linger on his own seraphim ( temporary leaders, but was it really? ) but they wouldn’t fight for him, not like he would have. as the votes were tallied together into the most worthless of lists, solomon checked all the boxes again. posture straighter, breathing controlled, throat clear. his body betrayed him only once, as he got up and finally looked at kashvi singh - something in the depths seemed stricken with excruciating worry. it was a private look, untraceable the moment it was over and he returned to his best acted self, a ruin that’s more solid than any modern wall. “this is a waste of your time.” he’d mumbled it before, but it was put into clear words as he was taken away with three other ones. it was of no avail, but he made damn sure to say it straight to his own horsemen: the children he’d watched grow up, who’d been angels beneath him, virtues with him, seraphim above him. those he’d protected once, just as he protected gabrielle, or warlock. “this is a stupid waste of your time.” he would have bled london dry before he let other gangs even get near one of his own. he’d do it for the ones he disliked the most, and the ones he loved. the sentiment was not mutual, apparently. 

so much for loyalty. so much for a reward. twenty two years of patiently waiting and patiently hoping led to a locked door and the title of original assassin, which he’d once heard with pride, hung over his forehead like the red light of a target. solomon picked a corner of the east gallery the moment the search was done, sitting on the hardwood floor with crossed arms and eyes ahead, sizing the three prisoner companions with a craving of violence. let the night begin.

[cruger2984]

THE DESCRIPTION OF SAINT LORENZO RUIZ The Protomartyr and Patron of the Philippines Feast Day: September 28

Take note, this is post #127,000.

"Ego Catholicus sum et animo prompto paratoque pro Deo mortem obibo. Si mille vitas haberem, cunctas ei offerrem." ("I am a Catholic and wholeheartedly do accept death for God; had I a thousand lives, all these to Him shall I offer.")

He is the patron of Filipino altar servers, Chinese-Filipinos, the Filipino youth, immigrants, migrant workers, Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs), the Filipino people, and the Philippines.

The first Filipino-born saint, Lorenzo Ruiz, was born on November 28, 1594 in Binondo, located in the capital of Manila. The Philippines is at that time ruled by the Spanish. He is raised to a Chinese father and a Filipino mother who were both Catholic. His father taught him Chinese while his mother taught him Tagalog.

In his youth, he served as an altar boy at the Binondo Church (aka Minor Basilica and National Shrine of Saint Lorenzo Ruiz). Lorenzo earned the title of escribano (scrivener) after being educated by the Dominican friars for a few years because of his skillful penmanship. Later on, he became a member of the Confraternity of the Rosary (Cofradía del Santísimo Rosario). He married Rosario, a native, and they blessed with three children (two sons and a daughter), and they led a generally, peaceful, religious and content life.

Lorenzo's life turned forever in 1636, while serving as a clerk at the church, he was falsely accused of murdering a Spaniard. In order to escape execution, he sought asylum on board a ship with some other Dominican missionaries bound for Japan. They are: Antonio Gonzalez, who is one of the Thomasian Martyrs, Guillermo Courtet, who is the first Frenchman to have visited Japan, and three individuals who are part of the 16 Martyrs of Japan - Miguel de Aozaraza, Vicente Shiwozuka de la Cruz; and a lay leper Lázaro of Kyoto. Lorenzo and his companions sailed for Okinawa on June 10, 1636, with the aid of the Dominican fathers.

The Tokugawa Shogunate (1603-1868) was persecuting Christians, because they feared that was how the Spanish invaded the Philippines by using religion by the time Lorenzo had arrived in Japan. The missionaries were arrested and thrown into prison, and after two years, they were transferred to Nagasaki to face trial by torture. The group endured many and various cruel methods of torture. They were made to swallow pails of water that while some soldiers trampled on their belly, came out from their mouth, nose, and ears mixed with blood. Long needles were put in their fingers provoking agonizing pains.

On September 27, 1637, Lorenzo and his companions were taken to Nishizaka Hill, where they were tortured by being hung upside-down over a pit. This form of torture was known as tsurushi (釣殺し) in Japanese or horca y hoya ('gallows and pit') in Spanish. The method, alleged to have been extremely painful, had the victim bound; one hand was always left free so that the individual may signal their desire to recant, leading to their release. When the government officials asked: 'If we grant you life, will you renounce your faith?'

Lorenzo replied: "Ako ay Katoliko at buong puso kong tinatanggap ang kamatayan para sa Diyos. Kung mayroon akong isang libong buhay, iaalay ko lahat ito para sa Kanya!" (I am a Christian, and I shall die for God, and for him I will give many thousands of lives if I had them. And so, do with me as you please!)

Ruiz refused to renounce Christianity and ultimately died from eventual blood loss and suffocation on September 29, 1637 at the age of 42 in Nagasaki, Hizen Province. His body was cremated and his ashes thrown into the sea. Two renegade priests, who worked as interpreters for the Japanese, were moved to repentance by his heroic faith. They took the first ship bound in Manila to report the whole story. In a sign of gratitude, the archbishop ordered all the bells of the city to ring in honor of him.

On February 18, 1981, Lorenzo Ruiz was beatified during John Paul II's papal visit to the Philippines, making the first beatification ceremony to be held outside the Vatican in history. Six years later on the feast of St. Luke - October 18th, he was canonized in the Vatican by the same pope in the Vatican, among the 16 Martyrs of Japan, making him the first Filipino saint. His canonization was supported by a miracle in October 1983, when Cecilia Alegria Policarpio of Calinog, Iloilo, was cured of brain atrophy (hydrocephalus) at the age of two, after her family and supporters prayed to Lorenzo for his intercession.

[hiddenwashington]

the city is still and quiet. the only sounds coming from the wind blowing through the trees as the city sleeps; perfectly at peace. for months now, there has been nothing. no brutal murders, no magical poisons, life has been… almost dull. but as the magic in washington tends to work, the moment you get comfortable, disaster strikes.

as the sun begins to rise, the citizens of washington are awoken by a crash of lightning, a blinding light that quickly engulfs the city. as the light fades, people begin searching their homes, trying to find their roommates, spouses, and friends who have seemingly vanished into thin air. before worry can fully set in, the snarls and growls of something inhuman fill the air. those remaining in the city realize they have far bigger worries than missing loved ones.

as they look out their windows and run into the streets, they see beasts and monsters completely foreign to dc. if one looks closely, they may recognize some of the creatures from the world they were born in, creatures they thought they’d never see again. enchanted corpses crawl up from the river, hellish monsters tear through the streets, soldiers armored in white march across the white house lawn, and creatures cloaked in black float over the rooftops, spreading despair wherever they go. those remaining in dc will need to fight to survive if they wish to see their loved ones again at the end of this storm. it’s time to prepare to fight creatures that most had never experienced before, or ones they were trusting to be locked away in their home worlds. will you team up with fellow citizens to fight? hunker down and pray for it to end? or enter the streets to save those who have never seen these monsters before? whatever your choice is, just make sure you make it through the storm.

for those who vanished, they wake to find themselves on a deserted island. there’s no civilization in sight, no land in the distance, and no way off the island. those who attempt to escape the island by swimming or using their abilities are thrown back to shore by a forcefield manifesting as powerful wind. at first, it seems they’ll be fine, stranded and trapped but, they’ve dealt with worse. seemingly, all they need to do is wait until whatever magical surge the city has conjured up this time runs out. but then it begins to rain, clear droplets that, at first, are easily mistaken as water, but it burns as they touch your skin. as the trapped citizens take shelter from the growing storm, they wonder what exactly they’ve gotten themselves sucked into this time.

after some time, it stops, but the relief is once again short lived as a new disaster begins. every hour, the island is plagued by some new horror. as if on a timer, it cycles through storms, fires, and magical surges, keeping those trapped just as much on their toes as the ones fighting for their lives back home. can they beat the clock, surviving on the island with nothing but each other and the trees to protect them?

once again, the magic of dc has turned dark and frightening; surging at an uncontrollable speed. the more time passes, the longer the storm rages on, the clearer it becomes that the city is changing. allowing unknown entities, and perhaps even more to pass through to this world. the tides are changing, perhaps for the worse.

                                                           ~~~~~

-- the city of dc is once more plagued by a surge of magic, separating the residents from their loved ones all over again. half the city has been transported to a deserted island off the coast, trying to beat the clock as each hour on the hour a new plague hits them. it can be anything from acid rain to poison fog coming through the trees. they must survive long enough to make it off the island, unable to escape and swim to shore. while the other half is stuck in dc, trapped in the city with no word of their family being safe or not as creatures and beings both familiar and not begin to swarm the streets. they must make it through the storm as these creatures are set on making this city run red with blood. can they outlast the monsters from home and afar? can their loved ones return all in one piece? these questions remain unanswered as the magic surges on, the tides are forever changing. only time will tell what it will look like as the storm finally calms.

OOC INFORMATION

hello, hi, welcome friends!! welcome to hidden’s 12th !! event !! we are beyond excited to be able to bring you yet another labor of love, and chaos from us!! it has been such a blessing to come up with twelve amazing events for all of you and we cannot wait to see how you guys take this one and run! we absolutely love the energy behind it and we hope you guys will as well!! there’s going to be so much to do on both ends of this, and it’s going to be hard hitting from beginning to end!! please read on for all of the rules and information surrounding the event and please as always have fun friends!! we hope you enjoy this as much as we did putting it together!! ♥

DATES :

july 10th - july 20th july 24th

this event will last for one week in character, ten days for us !!

CHARACTER GROUPING :

your characters have been split up randomly between both dc and the island

you can find where you will be on the list here 

if you find that too many of your characters are in one group, please let us know and we will break you up !!

LOCATION INFORMATION :

washington dc --

all the information you’re going to need to know while trapped in the city of washington dc

here your characters will face monsters both familiar and not. there is a long list of them that we have taken from a multitude of different fandoms to give a mix of difficulty but also variety. 

you can find the full list of creatures here 

your characters will have full run of the city as always, they are free to make safe houses, try and save people, run head first into a horde of zombies for the thrill of it. anything you can really think of. 

these monsters will not rest, making the streets everyone has learned to call home unsafe and filled with chaos. try to outlast, to out run, and survive long enough to find your loved ones in the fray.

these monsters will not just attack people from the fandoms they are from, they are free game to attack and be attacked by any and all citizens whether you have seen them or not. so be prepared to fight things you’ve never heard of!

the island --

all the information you’re going to need to know while trapped on the island in the sea

your characters have all woken up on a deserted beach, no sign of the city in sight, the only think they hear is the crashing waves against the ocean. it seems safe enough, except for the barrier keeping them all here, trapped with no way off. 

through out their time here, the island is a ticking clock, slowly getting ready for it’s next surge, it’s next wave of disasters to strike. 

each hour a new trial will happen, you can find the full list of them here

we admins will not be making a post for each time the disasters shift, so, please make use of the random number generator found on the doc. use this to decide which disaster will be taking place during each of your threads. you are free to decide any which one just so long as you use a variety throughout your time on the island.

if we see you only writing with one disaster we will come message you to ask you to shift gears to a different option. we want everyone to enjoy but also get the full experience!!

your characters are going to have to outlast these disasters and survive as they attempt to cause harm to you and those around. stay safe, protect your fellow citizens and best of luck!!

CHARACTER DEATHS / INJURIES :

this island and these creatures are not here for a fun vacation or to be friends. this surge is dangerous and we want to make sure you all are prepared for such. of course, it is always completely optional for your characters to get hurt or die, but we want to give the information in case your characters get into a bind either from the ticking clock of the island or from some monster taking a swipe at them!

as far as injuries go, you are more than welcome to have any of your characters become injured. if it is something minor like a sprained ankle or some cuts, you do not have to message us admins about it. but if it’s more major, like broken bones or major cuts, please make sure you message us admins so we can keep track of it! 

now, for anyone looking for death plots, we are going to be limiting the number of character deaths per mun, that way we can keep track of the updates on the main and make sure that people are branching out with different plots beyond death!

the limit will be if you have 5 and under characters, you are limited to 2 characters. if you have 5 or over, you are able to kill 3-4 characters!

if you do plan to kill anyone, please remember to message the main, that way we are able to update the memories statuses of your characters post event!

QUICK HOUSEKEEPING :

one stop shop for all your plotting, posting and tagging questions !!

feel free to begin plotting now! you can post plotting calls, starter calls or anything of the like !! just remember to keep any in character posts saved for the 10th!

please hold any and all non event threads until the event has concluded on the 20th! you are free to pick them up again after, or start fresh with your characters adjusting to yet another magical surge.

you are welcome to have your characters text each other if they are in different groups, but remember the connection is spotty and unreliable. we also want to make sure everyone is focusing mainly on their groups so please, do not over do it. if we see too many text threads, we will have to remove this feature.

please tag all posts (in character , out of character , para , etc ) with hwevent12 

please make sure you tag all interactions with which group your character is in : examples like ‘ event : the island ‘ , ‘ the city group ‘ , even just ‘ the island ‘. this way people know which group you are in when interacting!

keep your eyes on the main for any information pertaining to the event as the days trek on!!

as always, this event is mandatory for all members !!

please remember that not everyone has to have their memories altered, and you are free to keep your character either aware/unaware !! but be sure to remember that if they do have their memories altered, this will affect them in the long run after the event as well !!

and as always, have fun, get creative, think outside the box and enjoy the chaos of our twelfth event!!! we cannot wait to see what you all do with this during the event and beyond !! please don’t hesitate to ask any questions, we know this is a lot of information to take in, so let us know if you need any help! and again, as always, please like this when you have read it all! ♥

[viking-raider]

Of Truth and Justice - Part III

Summary: Calea learns what she can from the Para-Demon’s blood and wakes where Clark has taken her.

Pairing: Clark Kent/Superman x OFC

Word Count: 8,787

Parts: I II

Rating: PG-13 - Justice League!AU, Language, Fluff, Angst, Flashbacks, Minor Character Death

Inspiration: Something that’s been on my Muse’s brain after watching Justice League a couple of times.

Author’s Note: TY to the amazing @wondersofdreaming​​ for being a stellar Beta! Tell me what you think!

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart​, @peakygroupie​, @jessevans​, @rosie-loves-things​, @ohjules​, @mary-ann84​, @omgkatinka​, @the-freak-cassie-131​, @wardl0w​​, @agniavateira​, @cap-barnes​, @romyr4​, @michelehansel​, @kaatelyyynn​, @badassbaker​, @mrsaugustwalker​, @authentic-bish-face, @rizeandvibe​, @severuined​, @supernaturalvikingwhore​, @bellastellaluna​, @wondersofdreaming​, @thisisntmyrightera​, @michelle-1185​, @winchwm​, @royallylazy​, @sofiebstar​, @worldicreate​, @agniavateira​, @fantasygirlsuniverse​, @witches-of-discovery-a​, @xuxszx​, @ayamenimthiriel​, @keiva1000​, @fantasygirlsuniverse​, @itsreigns​, @constip8merm8​, @scorpionchild81​, @mylifefallingupthestairs​, @onlyhenrys​, @luclittlepond​, @ellixthea​, @lebguardians​, @geralt-yennefer-jeskier, @cherrybloomn​, @p3nny4urth0ught5​, @iloveyouyen​, @hollydaisy23​, @mcuimagination​, @psychosupernatural​, @sweetlybigdragonn​, @whitewolfandthefox​, @moviemonzy​, @the-soot-sprite​, @hell1129-blog​, @trippedmetaldetector​, @captaingothgirl1996​, @dont8mind8me8eue​, @peaky-marvel​, @desperate-and-broken21​, @monstersnmoney​, @dancingwendigo​, @redhot-mystacism​, @thereisa8ella​, @black-ninja-blade​, @oddduckthatgirl​, @rosewinx​, @henrythickcavill​, @tinabean37​, @hnryycvll​, @msblkfire84​, @romangenesius​, @emelinelovesjc​, @strangerliaa​, @lovieebby​, @pinksdaydream​, @fanfictionaddiction99​, @seb-owns-these-tatas​, @oh-for-fic-sake​, @sauvage-et-libre​, @mis-lil-red​, @angreav​, @crazyandanonymous4u​, @the-mighty-jellybean​ @henrycavell​, @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair​, @iam-laiya​, @worshipping-skarsgard​, @thetruthandotherstories​, @ruthoakenshield​, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​, @theonetheycallhannah​, @nina-skyee​, @thatgirly81​, @inanna999​, @suueeeeeee​, @spideysimpossiblegirl​, @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8​, @beckster07890​, @daddys-littlewhitegirl​, @magic-and-the-macabre​, @stxphmxlls​, @radaofrivia​, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​, @starstruckkittyangel​​, @heartfelt-pen​​

Clark carefully set up the Sol-Gel Chamber inside the Fortress of Solitude.

He stood over Calea in the Gel, the beat of her heart had grown stronger as time progressed, giving him hope that she was going to recover. Running his hands through his hair, Clark had one of the Kryptonian Bots watch over her, while he went to secure the rest of the Fortress.

He wasn't gone long, when Calea thrashed in the Gel and sat up, ripping the mask off her face and looking at the bot, startled. Climbing out of the Chamber, Calea pressed her back against the wall and glanced around her foreign surroundings. The Bot made a beeping whirl sound and the door of the room opened, revealing a startled and excited Clark.

“Calea!”

“Clark!” She relaxed seeing him. “Where the hell am I?” She asked, eyeing the Bot.

“The Fortress of Solitude.” He replied, dismissing the Bot out of the room.

“Why?” Calea asked, eyes panning around.

“Well, I just felt it would be safer for you.” He admitted, his face slightly warm. “So, I brought you and the Sol-Gel Chamber here.”

“Where's Ryder?”

“I don't know.” He frowned, then rushed forward, grabbing her as her knees gave out. “You're still weak.” He whispered, picking her up in his arms. “What were you thinking, drinking that Para-Demon's blood, Calea?” He asked, carrying her out of the Chamber he set the Sol-Gel up in.

“I was thinking, I wanted to find out what he was looking for.” Calea replied, resting her cheek against his shoulder, exhausted. “Ryder's going to kill you, when he finds us.”

Clark chuckled. “I doubt that.” He smiled, carrying her down a long hallway. “Unless he has Kryptonite, which I highly doubt, since there isn't any more, and I'm the only one that knows where we are.” He explained to her, stepping in front of another door before it opened. “This is the only bedroom I have, but I don't have to sleep, unless I want to or my brain is exhausted, so you can have it.” He told her, setting her down on his bed.

“There's a bathroom right there.” He motioned to a secondary door. “I'm sure you'll want to wash the Gel off. Um..” Clark frowned, seeing her soiled clothing and stepped into the space he used as a closet and pulled a shirt and pair of pajama bottoms off the hangers. “You can wear these, until we can get your clothes clean.” He offered, setting the shirt and bottoms on the bed beside her.

“Thank you.” Calea replied, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.

Nodding, Clark stepped out to give her privacy to fix herself up. Calea stood up and glanced around his room, before going into the bathroom. The water was cold as she stepped under the spray of the shower head, shivering. But, she didn't mind, she just wanted to wash up and get her mind straight. The Para-Demon, Kulas's blood had shown her what had happened to her people, the death of her father, the apparent fact that Steppenwolf was looking for more than just the Mother Boxes; the League was correct in that assumption. Calea knew what it was Steppenwolf was looking for, but had no clue where they were hidden. She leaned her forehead against the shower wall, water cascading down her shivering back as tears mixed with the water droplets dripping from her hair, turning cold as they fell from her cheeks and down the spiraling drain.

Sniffling and turning off the tap, Calea pulled a towel off a rack built into the wall and dried off. Slipping on the clothing Clark so generously provided for her and stepped up to the door, glancing around it for a moment before it opened. Peeking down both sides of the hallway, Calea picked a direction and followed it around a bend and down a corridor with three displays on either side that held an outfit, Superman's outfits. One looked like a set of armor, another was the normal Superman outfit Clark wore and the other was black and silver.

“It's my regeneration suit.” Clark's voice echoed to her. “It helps me recover, when I've been injured.”

“Or come back from the dead.” She smiled at him.

“That too.” He smiled back, then held up a bag that was in his hand. “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

Smiling more, Clark took Calea down to the foyer area of the Fortress, the windows there open and looking out over the frozen tundra of the Antarctic. There was a modest table there, as well as the statues of Clark's birth parents, Jor-El and Lara. Calea studied them, while Clark pulled the take-away boxes out of the bag, she could see Clark in both of them, his father's nose and jawline, his mother's eyes and cheekbones, both of them looked beautiful, even carved out of stone, she could sense they had been good people.

“So, there's Chinese take-out in the Antarctic, I'll have to give them one hell of a Yelp review.” She giggled, sitting down at the table with him.

“Ah, well.” Clark chuckled, grinning like mad. “I don't have a kitchen here. So, I just popped over to New Zealand to get something.” He explained to her, picking up his chopsticks. “Do you need to eat?” He asked, popping a snow pea in his mouth.

“What do you mean?” Calea replied, helping herself to the chicken dumplings.

“Well, I don't technically need to eat, or sleep.” He explained, after swallowing. “I get my energy from the Sun. Though, I do sometimes get mentally tired and a good nap does the trick.”

Calea rested back against her chair, pondering his question as she chewed her dumpling. “I don't, can't, eat, while in the Sol-Gel, but it still gives me the type of nourishment I need to survive. I've never tried not eating, while I was out of it. We can go without sleep, if we want too. But, I rather enjoy sleeping, the days don't seem so long, when you sleep.”

“That's true.” he agreed, nodding. “I like doing both, food tastes a lot better than the Sun.” He joked, making Calea roar with laughter. “I haven't been sleeping much though, I don't even know why I keep doing it, knowing I don't have to and I'll just end up having nightmares.”

“When you make a habit of something, they tend to be hard to break.” She sighed, glancing out the windows. “What is this place?” She asked.

“My Fortress of Solitude.” He replied, looking out at the snow and ice swept landscape. “It was a Kryptonian Scouting Ship my father, Jor-El, sent a long time ago to find out if they could use it as an outpost and a place of refuge.” He explained to her. “The Humans found it in the Arctic a few years ago. When I heard about it, I found a way into the group that was studying it and checked it out.”

“That's when I learned who I really was, where I came from and how I got here. So, I took it and brought it here to the Antarctic, away from everyone and everything.”

“Well, even Superman needs a vacation from the world every once in a while.” She assured him with a sweet smile. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I don't know.” He answered. “I was just going to let you be back at your place, but I-” He shook his head, he'd been trying to rationalize his choice in taking Calea to the Fortress since the compulsive idea came over him. “I just didn't feel like you were safe there, even with my being with you.”

“That place has been a safe haven for me for a very long time. No one has ever found it, without being told here it is.”

“I know.” He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “It just felt safer with you here.”

“With you.” She teased him, nudging her knee against his.

“Maybe.” Clark rubbed at his neck and didn't meet her eye.

“Where in Romania was that swarm of Para-Demons?” She asked, after a short silence.

“North of a mine called Rosia Poieni.” He replied, finishing off his egg rolls.

“Would you show me?” She asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Um..” Clark frowned, wiping his mouth and getting up. “Follow me.”

Clark led the way to a study-like room and up to a console whose monitor was made of Liquid Geo. Typing on the console, the Geo changed and solidified into an Earth shaped orb. The Geo trembled for a moment, then changed shape again, this time showing the country of Romania.

“The Mine is here.” Clark said, pointing to the west of Romania. “And the sight of Steppenwolf's Para-Demons was here.”

“Seems terribly random.” Calea frowned, shaking her head. “What is it?” She frowned, seeing the change in Clark's expression.

“There's trouble.” He said, striding out of the room. “Stay here, I'll be back as quickly as I can.”

“Well, being Superman, that should be faster than I can blink.” Calea deadpanned, smirking at him.

Calea made sure Clark was well and gone, before taking one final look at the map, going back to his room and changing into her now dry clothing. With a deep breath, picturing the place in her mind, and with a crackle of energy, Calea was gone.

It was dark, when Calea suddenly appeared in the forest to the north of the Rosia Poieni mine. There were still rotting Para-Demon bodies littering the ground, the smell, even in the chilly night air, was like an overripe garbage dump in hundred degree heat, it made Calea's nose wrinkle and her face twist. She picked her way through their bodies, pushing some aside, looking for any clues to their reason for being here, but had no more luck than the others. Sighing, she moved through the treeline, towards the edge of the mining pit. The old copper mine was almost a mile wide and half a mile deep, before it started branching out into mine shafts.

“What are you doing, Steppenwolf.” She muttered to herself, scanning the deep crater and leaned forward as she saw a twinkle of light for a moment, in the deepest part of the pit.

“Hm.”

Narrowing her eyes, Calea hopped down several of the rows leading down into the pit, jumping down two and three at time, before skirting around until she was closer to the source. Her ears picked up the sound of movement further below, and knew it couldn't be Humans, it was too dark for them to be mining this late at night. Tipping her head back and sniffing at the air, Calea still smelled the stench of dead Para-Demons, but also caught the scent of living Para-Demons. Growling, she descended the rest of the way, making sure to be quiet and keep down wind so they didn't scent her out.

Coming around and crouching down, Calea saw three Para-Demons standing around the opening to one of the mine shafts, guarding it and whatever was inside of it. Glancing upward, Calea noticed that the shaft lined up with where the League battled the swarm of Para-Demons earlier.

“They were standing on it.” She whispered, shocked.

Biting her lip, Calea slowly eased into the direction of the Para-Demons, wanting to get as close to them as possible before attacking, so any other Para-Demons in the area wouldn't be fully alerted to her presence until it was too late. She was only a few yards from them, when the wind shifted directions, blowing against her back and towards the Para-Demons, warning them instantly to Calea's vicinity. Making the most of it, Calea zoomed forward, her powers already reaching their peak, as she grabbed the closest Para-Demon to her.

Electricity crackled down Calea's arms and flowed into the Para-Demon's body as she gripped it by the arm and throat. It trembled and twitched as the high voltage electricity coursed through it, before she tossed it aside and took on the remaining two. She hissed as one of them swiped at her, claws catching her cheek as she tried to duck out of the way. Dropping to a squat and twisting, Calea kicked the Para-Demon's legs out from under it and smashed her fist through its skull.

“Killing your own kind, youngling?” A raspy voice asked as Calea killed the last Para-Demon.

“Steppenwolf.”

She hissed, dripping the creature's body and turning around to face him. “They're not my kind, not any longer. You and Darkseid saw to that.” She growled at him, shaking, as all her pent up power reached a fevered pitch.

“They should have given me what I wanted, I would have let them live.” Steppenwolf replied, smirking.

“That's a damned lie and you know it.”

Steppenwolf shrugged, the smug smile on his lips never faltering. “Perhaps you'll be more intelligent than the rest of your Race and tell me where what I seek has been hidden.”

“How am I supposed to know where they've been hidden? I was a baby, when my People took them from you and Darkseid.” Calea spat venomously. “Even if I did know where they were, I sure as hell wouldn't tell the likes of you.”

“Stubborn, just like your father.” He laughed at her. “But, no matter. Soon, I will find where you Selians have hidden them on this pitiful rock and with Mother's help, it will be glorious.” He smirked as a beam of light came down over him and teleported him away.

The bright light left spots in Calea's eyes as the dark night filled the mining pit again, but she didn't let it deter her. Turning on her heels, she stepped over the dead Para-Demons and into the mine they were guarding, doubting there were anymore inside, knowing they would have come out already if there were.

Eyes glowing that electric blue and aiding Calea to see in the pitch black shaft, she glanced around and saw nothing out of the ordinary for a mine; scraped and rough walls and ceiling, the dirt floor strewn with bits of rock, metal rails to carry out loads of rock and cooper, and bits of scrap from blasting deeper into the Earth. It smelled of damp gravel and Earth, musty, with the metallic ting of copper, the lingering scent of sweaty bodies and petrol, from the generators powering the string of lights along the hewn walls and sump-pumps, to clear out the patches of stagnant water. There was also the lingering, but noticeable scent of Para-Demons, they had been down here at some point recently, telling Calea that she was heading in the right direction.

She stopped, coming to a Y-shaped fork in the shaft and sighed, one of the shafts was blocked off with a barricade. So, taking a couple steps into the shaft to the left and taking a couple of whiffs, she turned around and went back to the blocked off shaft. Leaning over the barricade and picking up the Para-Demon scent again, she pushed the barricade aside and started in, she could feel the shaft start to angle more sharply downward, the air around her growing chilly and thick. Something about this shaft felt drastically different from the others, and not just in temperature and atmosphere, it made Calea's skin ripple with goosebumps and a shiver raced down her spine, it felt foreboding and somehow older than the surrounding area.

The deeper Calea went the rougher the shaft became, like they started to mine it, but gave up for some reason, blocking it off to prevent anyone from going down it again. The walls and ceiling looked safe and stable enough, there were clear lines of copper in the walls, so it wasn't lacking valuable resources that would prevent them from wanting to continue on with it, confusing Calea to why they would stop and hole it up.

It wasn't until she hit the dead end of the shaft that she saw what it was that possibly stopped their continued excavation.

Where the rough shaft ended, a small chamber opened up. It was wide enough for her fingertips to touch the walls with her outstretched arms and tall enough for her to fully stand up. The walls and ceiling were perfectly squared and smooth, or at first glance, they looked smooth. A closer look revealed there were markings on the walls, nothing Human either.

“Holy fuck.” She gasped, recognizing them.

“Calea, I'm back.”

Clark called, entering the Fortress after saving a large group of people from an apartment fire in London. “Calea?” He called out again, when he didn't get an answer. “Shit.” He snapped, seeing the Liquid Geo still up in the shape of Romania.

Keeping his black and silver suit on, in case there was a need to get in a fight, Clark made his way over to the mine. Searching around, he spotted the dead Para-Demons at the entrance of a shaft and took the clue. Clark caught the scent of his body wash Calea used to get clean and her own unique smell, and picked his way through the mine until he came to the fork and the shoved aside barricade. He heard the quick pounding of her heart and breathing at the end of the shaft and wasted no time getting to the end of it.

“Calea?” He called out to her, his voice echoing back.

“Clark?” Her voice echoed in reply.

“What are you doing down here?” He asked, looking around the strange room.

“Looking for answers.” She replied, fingers tracing the symbols on the wall in front of her.

Clark frowned and stepped up behind her. “What are these?” He asked, looking at the symbols over her head.

“Original Solean.” She replied and leaned closer to one of the symbols, so worn, it was almost unrecognizable.

“What?” He snapped, looking down at her.

“You heard me.” She snorted, sliding over to the next column of symbols. “Steppenwolf is looking for two things that go with the Mother Boxes. Well, one thing that goes with the Mother Boxes and another that can destroy the Mother Boxes.” She explained to him.

“My People took the two objects not long after Darkseid had them made, hoping they would weaken him, then hid them somewhere here on Earth. But, obviously, that didn't work because he had the Mother Boxes made.”

“What are the two objects?” Clark asked, a crease between his brows.

“One is a Key that's supposed to unlock the full power of the Unity and the second is another Box, of some sort.” She answered, then growled. “I can hear my mother yelling at me for not paying closer attention to my tutor, on early Selian history.” She huffed, arms dropping to her sides in defeat.

“That Para-Demon's blood told you this?”

“Not exactly.” She told him, rubbing her face. “It showed me the day Steppenwolf invaded Selion and killed everyone, my parents included. He killed my father, who killed someone else about to tell Steppenwolf where these objects were. In full retaliation of what my Father did, Steppenwolf had the entirety of Selion turned into Para-Demons, and after he left, my mother told one of her Servants what it was he was looking for, but not where to find them.”

“But, you're sure they're here on Earth?”

“If Steppenwolf is searching Earth for them, they have to be here and this room is proof of that much.” She replied, motioning around the room.

“What is it?” Clark frowned, watching a light bulb turn on in her eyes.

“Lore.” She said softly, eyes panning around the room. “That's what this room is telling. The Lore of Selians colonizing Earth, seven thousand years ago.” Her head and eyes snapped up to Clark. “The Key and Box aren't in this room, but it tells the Lore of how Selians started living on Earth. That's what he's doing, why it's taking him so long to start the Unity.”

“He's scouring the Lore of the Selian-Humans, hoping to find a mention of the Key and Box in one of the stories.”

“Then, we have to beat him to it.” Clark said, sharing her frenzy.

“I have to get to the Heart.” She said, antsy.

“The what?”

“I'll explain it, when we get there.” Calea replied, holding out her hand. “Take my hand.”

Without hesitation, Clark took Calea's hand and felt the pop of electricity at their touch, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end and in a flash, they blinked out of the mine and appeared inside a rather large space ship.

“The Heart.” Calea smiled, motioning to the space around them. “This is the ship Ryder and I arrived on Earth in.” She explained and let out a low whistle, making lights around the craft slowly turn on, showing off the hanger they were standing in.

“Where is this hidden?” Clark asked, looking around.

“Somewhere under Manhattan, I think.” She replied, frowning. “It's been a very long time since I've visited here without teleporting, and so much has changed since we hid it. It was the Heart of the Selian Eternal Fleet.” She elaborated. “I.E the name for it.”

Pressing her hand to a panel beside a door and opening it, Calea quickly walked down a corridor, the sole of her boots clinking as she went. Clark followed after her, still checking the ship out as they went and entered a second room.

“Your bedroom?” He smirked, it still smelled like her, even after all the time being left dormant.

“Yep.” She smiled back at him, fingertips lighting on the spines of books on a shelf by her bed. “There you are.” She chimed, pulling a thick book off the shelf and walking backwards until she could sit down on her bed.

“The Lore of Selians and Earth.”

Clark sat down beside her, tilting his head at the book as she flipped it open. “Do you have any idea where to look?”

“Not even the slightest.” She laughed, scanning the index. “Hm.” She frowned and got up again, pulling another book off the shelf.

“The battle of Apokolips.” Clark read out loud. “The third war?” He frowned at Calea.

“Selians and Apokoliptians have been battling each other ever since they believed we were abandoning our birthright as Rulers of the Universe, being the first Race. It was the third war, the War of Power, that my Grandfather died and my Father became King. Then, a few years later, the War for Earth took place.” She told him, opening the book.

“Ah, here we go.” She said, finding the chapter she was looking for and started reading it to Clark. “It was the third war that the Apokoliptians created a Key and Box, in an attempt to defeat the Selians once and for all. But, King Gretan—my Grandfather—sent his best men to Apokolips to stop them before they could prevail, and hoped to use it against the Apokoliptians themselves.”

“Mikel and Tristan,” Gretan said as the two men approached his throne. “Thank you for coming, on such short notice.”

“Of course, my liege.” Mikel replied as they both bowed to him. “How can we be of service?”

“It has been brought to the attention of our spies and scouts, that the Apokoliptians have created two objects that could bring about our destruction. We must get our hands on these objects, so we can prevent them from being used.” Gretan explained to them.

“I'm sending you both to Apokolips, to steal these devices and bring them back here for safe-keeping.”

“We will get ready right away, my liege.” Tristan assured him.

“Excellent.” Gretan replied and nodding his head, dismissed them.

Tristan and Mikel left as soon as they were able, not wishing to lose any time, knowing that the Apokoliptians weren't wasting time either. Arriving at a safe zone in Apokolips and meeting up with a spy and scout, Mikel and Tristan learned where to find the objects they were tasked with obtaining.

“I must warn you.” The scout said, being frank with them. “One of our scouts has already tried infiltrating the lab they are located in. He was captured, interrogated and killed.” He told them, bluntly.

Mikel and Tristan exchanged expressions, but steeled themselves. They couldn't, and wouldn't, let their King and People down. Getting the rest of the report, a layout of the lab, surrounding areas and whatever else the scout and spy had to tell them, Tristan and Mikel made their way towards their destination. They stayed low and skirted around buildings, narrowly escaping notice a few times as they made it inside the perimeter of the city outside the safe zone. Finding an empty building to hide in, Mikel pulled out the map provided for them and found where they were in relation to it and where the laboratory was in relation to them.

“We're two klicks away from the lab.” Mikel said, pointing to the red dot that marked the lab they were making their way towards. “There's two security checks between us and it, not to count the tight security they have around the lab, especially after the first attempt to steal what's inside said lab.”

“Do we know what we're looking for, exactly?” Tristan asked, studying the map.

“According to our intelligence, they're the only things in the lab.” Mikel answered, rubbing at his tired face. “So, they shouldn't be that hard to spot.”

“Or carry, all we need is something to slow us down.”

The knob to the room they were crouched in started to rattle. Quickly hiding the map and melding into the dark shadows of the room as the door opened, Mikel and Tristan watched the Apokoliptian enter the room, the door swinging shut behind him. Holding their breaths and waiting for the opportune moment, Tristan took a silent step out of the shadows and up behind him, swiftly wrapping his arm around the Apokoliptian's neck and slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle any sounds he might make, and snapped his neck. Gently easing him to the floor, Mikel searched his pockets and found a passkey, smiling at Tristan as he held it up.

“That solves some of our access problems.” Tristan chuckled, making sure the Apokoliptian didn't have anything else of interest on his body.

“Come on.” He whispered, moving to the door.

Listening through the door for a few moments, then slowly opening it, Tristan and Mikel carefully sneaked down along the wall of the building, checking the walkway around the corner and continued on. They made their way to a wall between them and the middle area of the city. While Tristan worked on getting them through the wall, Mikel kept watch for any Apokoliptians that might catch them. Tristan removed a black kit from his pocket and pulled out a pen-like object, pressing the tip of it to the wall and turned it on. He moved the pen in an arch, just wide and tall enough for them both to squeeze through, the tip of the pen cutting through the thick wall like butter. Putting the pen and kit back in his pocket and kicking the cut out free, Tristan motioned for Mikel to go first, watching his back as he did, then followed after him.

Mikel motioned to the left of them and led the way to their next checkpoint, narrowly getting caught in the process. Tristan gave him a frustrated look and Mikel rolled his eyes, then continued on their way. Taking back ways, deserted streets and hiding in hidden nooks and deep doorways as their enemies passed by. Making it to the last wall in their way to the direct center of the city, that contained all the important and top secret dealings of Apokolips, they pulled out of their map for one more check of the lab's location and readied themselves for whatever they might encountered in the extraction of their mission.

“May Primian protect us.” Mikel whispered, touching the pad of his first two fingers to the space between his eyebrows.

“Who's Primian?” Clark asked, interrupting her reading.

“Primian was the first Selian to become a Prime.” Calea replied, looking up from the page. “That's why we're called Primes; it's a play on his name. He became a bit of a God to us.”

“Ah.” He nodded, understanding.

Prepared, Mikel and Tristan breached the last wall and felt the air around them change, thickening with the very real danger they were now in, that they were in the last and most critical stage of their mission. Picking their way through the buildings and walkways towards the laboratory, they used the passkey and found it gave them access to the lab.

The lab was like any lab, bright and clean smelling, but the instruments in it weren't anything you would find in an ordinary lab. Mikel and Tristan split up, looking for what they had come for, checking everything in the room, before Tristan found a door to a side room and went inside.

“Mik.” He called over his shoulder, his eyes glued to what was in the room with him.

“What?” Mikel answered, popping up behind him and looking over his shoulder. “That has to be them.” He said, eye catching what Tristan had found.

“A Box and what the hell is that with it?” Tristan echoed, stepping closer.

It was a circular three inch long by an inch thick, solid bar of silver-like metal with a strange symbol at the top of it. Tristan reached out and picked it up off the stand it was resting on, inspecting it closer, while Mikel looked over the box that sat beside it. He turned it around, checking all of the side and noticed a hole at the top of the box that was the exact size and shape of the bar Tristan was holding in his hand.

“It's a Key of some sort.” Mikel said, showing Tristan the hole in the Box.

“Does it open the Box?” Tristan asked, frowning.

“Don't.” Mikel hissed as Tristan tried inserting the Key. “We don't know what this thing does, and I'd rather not find out in a confined space.”

Tristan nodded and opened a satchel he had been carrying and slipped the key into the inside pocket. “Quickly, let's get going before anyone comes.”

Holding the satchel open, Mikel slipped the Box in and fastened the flap closed. Making a sweep of the room to ensure they didn't miss anything important, Mikel and Tristan left the lab and started retracing their steps back out of the city and to their ship off the planet. They weren't halfway to the wall, when a series of alarms went off.

“Well, that's our cue!” Mikel snapped and started running.

Running with him, Tristan caught the glimpse of Apokoliptians running back and forth in a frenzy, trying to figure out what the alerts were for. They were mere feet from the opening in the wall they made, when one Apokoliptian guard noticed them and shouted to his fellows. Pulling off the satchel, Tristan tossed it to Mikel, who sent it sliding through the hole in the wall and dove after it, sliding through the hole like a player to home base. Turning on his hands and knees, Mikel looked back at Tristan, waiting for him to come through next.

Tristan ducked down to dive through the opening, as a shot rang out, the air stilled after the reverberation wore off. Time slowed to a stop, while Mikel watched a burst of blood spray out from Tristan's side, his pained cry breaking the silence and stillness, a cloud of black dust rising around him as he fell to the ground.

“Tris!”

Scrambling back through, Mikel grabbed Tristan's hand and dragged him through the wall opening, pushing him over onto his back and pressed his hands to the gaping wound on Tristan's right side. Tristan coughed, spots of blood covering his ashen face, he looked up at Mikel. His breathing slowed, his heart pounding, his skin cooled under the press of Mikel's hands and sweat broke out on his forehead.

“You have to go, Mikel.” Tristan coughed again.

“No, not without you.” He shook his head.

“Yes.” Tristan replied, raising a heavy arm and touched cold fingertips to Mikel's cheek. “Do you remember, when I hit you over the head with my sword?” He asked, his pale green eyes glassy.

“I tried to kiss you.” Mikel nodded, looking behind at the scrape of metal as the gateway in the wall creaked slowly open. “But, I only ended up with a lump on my head, for a week.”

Tristan cupped Mikel's cheek in his shaking hand. “You can kiss me now, then you must leave.” He told him, gently. “Please, Mikel.” He begged him, gripping his shoulder.

Shoulders slumping, Mikel removed his hands from the wound and cupped his face, smearing blood all over him, and leaned in. His trembling lips met Tristan's pale cold ones, tears dripping onto him as they kissed. When Mikel pulled away he saw the glassy vacancy in Tristan's eyes and let out a heart breaking wail as he dragged himself to his feet, picking up the bag with the Box and Key, slinging it over his body and stumbled forward, willing himself not to look back to Tristan, knowing he would never make it, if he did.

“Mikel was able to make it back to Selion with the Key and Box.” Calea read, fingertips following the sentences on the page. “King Gretan had a mighty room to contain the Key and Box, but at King Gretan's death, Crown Prince Calien feared, with the creation of the Mother Boxes and Steppenwolf traversing through the Universe with them on a rampage, that they would no longer be safe in the chamber. So, he hid them elsewhere.”

“That's when he must have sent them to Earth.” Clark said, turning his head to look at her.

“It must be.” Calea replied, turning her head and gasped as their lips accidentally brushed. “I'm so-”

Clark cupped Calea's neck and pressed his lips to hers, his body leaning into hers. Calea paused, the press of Clark's warm lips against hers was confusing for a moment, it had been a long time since she had been kissed. The charge they always generated surged down their spines and Calea kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressed in closer to him, allowing him to deepen their kiss. She moaned at the feel of his tongue running along her bottom lip, before slowly slipping into her mouth, mingling their tastes, rolling her tongue against his, pushing it back for access to his mouth.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, Clark pulled her into his lap, needing her closeness. Calea ran her hands through his curls, smirking at how soft they were, shifting she straddled his lap and pressed their chests together. Clark frowned, hearing the tone of her moan change and pulled back, searching her face.

“What's wrong, Calea?” He whispered, watching her heart start to pound in her chest.

“My head hurts.” She sighed, the edge of her vision swam and pulsed, a high frequency hum in her ears. “A lot.”

“Cause we kissed.” He gulped, licking his lips.

“No, this is something else.” She groaned, resting her forehead against his shoulder.

“Tell me what to do?” He begged her, rubbing her back.

“It'll pass.” She said softly, already feeling it start too.

“Has that ever happened before?” Clark asked, relaxing as he heard her heart calm.

“Once or twice in my life.” She replied, relaxing against his solid body. “It passes as quickly as it happens.”

“Maybe, you should rest.” He suggested, twisting to the side and laid her down, carefully covering her up. “You're probably still weak.”

Calea caught his hand as he stood up. “Stay with me?”

“I'm not going anywhere.” He smiled at her, gently squeezing her hand, then waved his hand in front of the sensor by the door, like Calea had when they walked in, turning the lights off.

Spotting a chair, Clark pulled it up beside Calea's bed and picked up The Lore of Selians and Earth that still sat on the edge of her bed, flipping open its cover. His fingertips ghosting over the table of contents, then flipped several chapters in, stopping at a chapter titled: the Creation of Man.

It started seven thousand years ago, it stated, when a group of Selians arrived on what would later be named Earth, three men and three women. They found the planet purely by accident, but finding the water, land and atmosphere habitable and yielding, they decided to stay. Each of the couples went their separate ways, knowing in order to forge new lives on Earth, they would need to separate and sow their oats from different corners. At first, they would return to their landing area and reunite, sharing their growths and changes, their strives and failures. But, the more their societies grew the harder the pilgrimage became, more and more time came between the meetings until the meeting point was forgotten, as well as the reason for the meeting.

Selians had forgotten who they had once been to each other, family and friends. As time progressed they lost all memory of their home world and their abilities as Selians, they became the first Humans. When their paths crossed they would bicker and war, claiming their beliefs and lands were better than the others, forming the Tribes of Men.

A thousand years later, a ship arrived to these Tribes, demanding the objects their ancestors brought with them upon their arrival to Earth. But, none of the Tribes could tell these strange beings where these objects were, let alone what they were.

“You have forgotten your History, your People.”

“No, we made our own History and People.” One of the Humans spat at their feet. “If your People are so advanced why do you not know where they've hidden these things?”

“Because, you were tasked with protecting them and you failed.” the Selian hissed back.

“Not any longer.”

Enraged, the Selians washed their hands of the Humans and went on their way to try and find the ship the original Selians came to Earth in and should have the objects they seek hidden at. They sought out any clues they could find, leading them all over the lands the Tribes of Men occupied. They would find clues here and there to the possible origin of the craft. An old legend spoke of a place that homed large populations of vicious dogs and giant brown furred creatures, leading them to the Carpathian Mountains. Another legend told of a country surrounded by mountains with none of its own and numerous bodies of water. But, the Tribes of Men never found out if the Selians found what they sought, for Steppenwolf arrived on Earth and all efforts were turned in stopping his rampage.

An alarm started screaming through the ship, startling Calea upright and out of bed. Stumbling through the door of her bedroom and through the winding halls, Clark followed after her.

“Sec, shut off the alarms!” She yelled out in Solean and growled when the noise kept sounding. “Sec, for fuck sake!” She huffed, waving her hand in front of a sensor and stepping into the control room of the ship.

“Sec?” Clark frowned, glancing around. “You named the ship, Sec.”

“Selian Eternal Craft, Sec.” Calea replied, dropping into a seat and working various things on the console until the alarm turned off. “Sec?”

“My Lady?” The Craft replied.

“What's with all the noise?” She asked, leaning back in her seat.

“Alien life detected.”

Calea snorted and rolled her eyes. “Which Alien life, Sec? Mine, his or everything Human on this planet?”

“Six kilometres above our current location.” Sec replied.

Clark and Calea exchanged looks. “Show me.”

A light at the top of the console came on and a wide screen was projected from it, showing where the ship was, the surface and a blinking red dot that was steadily getting closer.

“Identify.” She said, swiveling in her chair to reach another console.

“Scanning.”

“What can I do?” Clark asked, watching her get up and go out of the room for a moment.

“Currently?” Calea's voice echoed to him. “Nothing, unless you can tell me what the fucking is digging through almost four miles of bedrock to a craft no one, but me, Ryder and now you should know about.”

“Couldn't it just be Ryder?”

“If it was, Sec would have told me it was Ryder, he's designed to identify us. So, if it says 'alien life form' it's assuredly not Ryder.” She replied, coming back into the room.

“Scan complete.”

“Spit it out then.”

“Semi-organic life form.”

“Semi?” Calea frowned, lifting a quizzical brow. “What's the non-organic part?”

“Technological.” Sec replied with a beep.

Calea frowned at Clark, head tilting to the side. “Victor?”

“He is half Human and half Cyborg.” Clark nodded, frowning at the rapidly approaching dot.

“Sec, full security measures until I say otherwise.” Calea said, getting up. “Stay here.” She tossed over her shoulder, going back down to her room.

Going into her closet, Calea pulled out several articles of clothing and stripped out of the clothes she had been wearing. Sighing, she slipped on the clothing she pulled out, securing a set of buckles at her thighs, waist and torso, before going back to join Clark, seeing the object was almost on them. Clark looked Calea over in her new outfit and got a Cyberpunk vibe from her, smirking.

“What?” She frowned, catching him out the corner of her eye.

“Nothing.” He grinned, guilty. “You look good.”

“Thanks.” She blushed, shaking her head at him.

“Object arrival, one minute.” Sec chimed.

Drumming her fingers against the console and biting her lip, Calea shook her head. “Remove the security measures and open the hatch.” She ordered, pushing off the console and going to the back of the ship.

“What if it isn't Victor?” Clark asked, keeping in stride with her.

“Then, we kill it.” She snorted, smirking at him as the hatch opened, revealing the massive cavern the ship was housed in, stepping off the ramp.

Clark tensed as he stepped off the ramp after her, readying himself for anything that was about to happen. The minute ticked by and the rumble through the cavern echoed off its stone walls, rock falling and breaking apart on the roof of the ship, before whoever it was finally broke through. Clark relaxed, vision honing in.

“It is Victor.”

“How did he find us.” Calea frowned, shaking her head.

“Clark?” Victor's voice echoed out to them. “Calea?”

“What are you doing here?” Clark asked, looking him over.

“I could ask you the same.” Victor replied.

“We asked first.” Calea answered, lifting a brow at him.

“I received a reading here, about an hour ago.” Victor explained to them. “I thought it was something to do with the Mother Boxes.”

“Nothing here, but us and the ship.” Calea replied, glancing around. “There's nothing that should give off a reading like that, unless Steppenwolf has brought the Boxes into the city above.”

“I've already checked that, there's nothing, that's why I came down here.”

“Has there been any other sign of Steppenwolf and the Para-Demons?” Clark asked.

“None, so far.” Victor shook his head. “What are you guys doing down here?”

“This is a Selian ship.” Calea told him, motioning to it. “The one Ryder and I arrived on Earth in. We came here looking for answers.”

“Answers to what?”

Calea looked up at Clark, who nodded at her. “We should return to the Hall, I'll explain it to everyone there.” She told him with a sigh. “And Victor?”

“Yeah?” He lifted his only brow at her.

“Please, cover up the hole you made.” She smirked at him.

He smirked back and nodded his head. “Will do.”

“Go, I'll meet you there.” Calea told Clark, touching his wrist.

“Bu-”

“I have to secure the ship, I'll be fine.” She assured him, pushing up on her toes and kissed his cheek, a lopsided smirk on her face at Victor's shocked expression. “Off you go, Superman. You don't have to worry about this Damsel always being in distress.” She teased him.

“The world out there needs you too.”

“If you're sure.” Clark sighed, tilting his face down closer to hers.

“I'm positive.” She assured him, squeezing his arm and heading back inside the ship. “Sec, close the hatch.” She said, not looking back over her shoulder to Clark.

“Where have the two of you been?” Victor asked as Clark met up with him.

“Around.” Clark answered, looking through the pinprick of light in the ceiling above them.

“Ryder is pissed with you, by the way.” He told him. “So, expect an earful when we get back to the Hall.”

Clark frowned back at the ship, biting the inside of his lip, then shook his head and took off through the opening Victor had made. Calea paced the control area of the ship and ran her hands through her hair, mind racing. How was a Mother Box signal produced in the same area as the ship? There shouldn't be any type of that technology on the ship.

“Sec, full scan the ship. Inform me of any abnormalities.”

“Right away, my Lady.” Sec replied and started the scan. “Scan complete.”

“Well?” Calea sighed, leaning against the console.

“No abnormalities found.”

“What the fuck!” Calea roared, slamming her hand down on the console. “Why can't anything ever make sense.” She mumbled, dropping limply into the command chair behind her, rubbing at her temples. “Sec, maintain all security measures.”

“Security on full.”

“Good, thank you.” She sighed, rubbing her face and pushing up out of the chair.

“Where did you take her?” Ryder demanded as Clark entered the Hall of Justice. “And where is she now?”

“Where I took her, is my private business.” Clark replied, undaunted by him. “And where she is, is where she wants to be. She'll be here, momentarily.”

“She better be.”

“You know, I'm a grown ass woman.” Calea's voice echoed through the main hall.

“A grown woman, who downed Para-Demon blood and almost got herself killed because of it.” Ryder hissed, turning towards her. “Then, kidnapped.”

“He didn't kidnap me, you drama queen.” She barked, shaking her head at him. “He saved my life.”

“Then, where did he take you.”

“That's none of your business, and it doesn't fucking mean he kidnapped me, Ryder.” Calea sighed, temples throbbing. “Why are you always like this?”

“I was tasked to protect you.”

“And all you're doing is suffocating me!” She screamed, at her wit's end.

“Let's just calm down.” Diana said, stepping between them. “She's all right and that's all that matters.”

“Did you learn anything?” Bruce asked, looking between Clark and Calea.

“Several things.” Calea replied, eyeballing Ryder.

“Then, let's go discuss them.” Bruce said, motion towards the round table.

The group sat around the table, Alfred brought out various drinks and Calea started to lay out everything that happened since she drank the Para-Demon's blood, while sipping a cup of tea. Clark sat beside her, putting himself between her and Ryder.

“I learned that Steppenwolf is looking for another Box and a Key that goes, not only, with that Box, but also the Mother Boxes.”

“What does the Key do to the Boxes?” Bruce asked, frowning at her.

“I believe the Key makes whatever Box it is in, stronger.” Calea replied with a sigh. “But, this fourth Box, can destroy the Mother Boxes.”

“Well, if it destroys the Mother Boxes, why would Steppenwolf want it?” Diana asked, tilting her head.

“To destroy it?” Calea shrugged. “If he took it out of our hands, we would have one less thing to stop him from using the Mother Boxes. It could also do something even worse than the Mother Boxes, for all we know.”

“Have you had any luck in finding the Key and Box?” Bruce inquired, troubled.

“We, well, Calea, discovered why the Para-Demons were in Romania.” Clark chimed in. “In a mine shaft, directly under where we fought them, was a strange room.” He explained.

“What was in the room?”

“Ancient Solean writings.” Calea picked up. “Part of the Lore of how Selians became Humans and colonized Earth all those years ago.” She took another sip of her tea. “It was then I got the idea that Steppenwolf must be picking through Human-Selian History and Lore, looking for any reference to the Box and Key. Since, when the two were made my Grandfather, Gretan, had them stolen and sealed into a special room.”

“Then, wouldn't they still be on your home planet?”

“Yes, if my Father didn't have them sent here, when Steppenwolf started his rampage through the Universe with the Mother Boxes, fearing that he would come for them next to make himself even more powerful.”

“We were combing through the Lore at the spaceship that Calea and Ryder arrived in, when Victor showed up.” Clark added, glancing at Victory across the table.

“You were at the ship?” Ryder asked, shocked. “You took him to the ship?”

“Victor said, he found a signal that came from the same area, which is how the three of us met up.” Calea continued, ignoring Ryder.

“It was a signal almost similar to the Mother Boxes, but I only found Clark and Calea there.” Victor added, awkwardly glancing at Ryder, whose face was beet red.

“I scanned the ship after they left to return here, but it didn't find anything out of the ordinary.”

Bruce sat back in his chair, rubbing the tips of his fingers into his graying temples. “Is there anything from the Lore you learned to tell us where Steppenwolf could be looking next?”

“Well,” Clark cleared his throat. “I read in one of the books, that a group of Selians arrived here on Earth not long after Humans forgot who they truly were, looking for where their ancestors, the Selians that colonized the planet, had first landed on their arrival, believing that's where this Box and Key were located.” He paraphrased. “I didn't get to finish it, but one of the places they were searching was 'surrounded by mountains, with none of its own, and several bodies of water.' I don't think it said exactly where that is. But, at least it's semi-identifying.”

“Victor, do you think you could find such a place?” Diana asked.

“It would have to be a place no less than six thousand years old.” Calea told him, building on the information. “That's about how long ago it was, when Selians arrived here.”

“I can do some looking around for a place that matches that general description. It might take a hot second.”

“Well, until Steppenwolf makes the next move, we have nothing else we can do.” Bruce groaned, rubbing his scruffy face.

-- Part IV --

[secretartstattoo]

The Chemistry of Tattoo Ink

Tattoo ink is an ink used for tattooing. It usually consists of pigment and carrier. Tattoo ink is produced in a wide range of colors that can be further mixed to produce any shade.

In the United States, tattoo inks must be subject to regulation by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration, but the FDA says on their website that "FDA has not approved tattoo pigments for injection into the skin" and that "many pigments used in tattoo inks are industrial colors suitable for printer inks or automotive paints." Some tattoo inks may contain heavy metals such as mercury-lead, cadmium, nickel, zinc, chromium, cobalt, aluminum, titanium, copper, iron and barium. Others may contain metal oxides such as ferrocyanide and ferricyanide and other elements such as antimony, arsenic, beryllium, calcium, lithium, selenium and sulfur. Carrier used to convert the powder into liquid is usually ethyl alcohol or water, but some inks are made with denatured alcohols, methanol, disinfecting alcohol, propylene glycol and glycerin.

Glow in the dark ink and blacklight ink and their safety for humans is much discussed in the tattoo community or tattooist work on tattoo studio and it is still not known how safe they are. The first works on phosphorescence - it absorbs and retains light and then glows in the dark; while the other glows under UV light.

Even the widespread temporary ink-black henna is not safe. Health Canada has advised against it because it contains para-phenylenediamine (PPD) which can cause an allergic reaction in the form of skin rashes, contact dermatitis, itching, blisters, open sores and scarring.

The worst of these are homemade tattoo inks that people make from pen ink, soot, dirt, blood or other ingredients.

Laws do not require manufacturers to disclose their ingredients or conduct tests and therefore no one knows for sure what is in it and how it reacts with a human body. We know that in rare cases people with black tattoos (made with iron oxide) have problems with MRI scanners (tattoos start to heat up). Some other tattoos can cause an allergic reaction. In Europe, 40% of organic tattoo dyes are not approved for cosmetic use and less than 20% of the dyes tested contained carcinogenic aromatic amine. Some tattoo inks only cause an allergic reaction when exposed to sunlight.

Mercury and Azo chemicals cause allergic reactions more often than other pigments and are used in red dyes, so allergies are more common in red tattoos. Of course, this does not mean that black, purple and green pigments do not cause allergic reactions.

[shilohgarner]

CLEANSE // SELF-PARA

There was blood on her hands. It was a sight she never thought she would see; had never thought herself capable of doing something like what she’d just done. And yes, she had done it out of mercy. And yes, it had been necessary. But there was something throbbing inside of her, it lodged between her stomach and throat and it ached with every heartbeat, and that thing felt the most like Antigone. It felt like her sister was, somehow, with her.

She didn’t want to dirty the clean water that was in the little lake. This miracle place that felt so different from the rest of the Arena. It was cool and nice. But she didn’t step towards it, didn’t examine it. Instead, she stumbled back up the hill in the direction from which she’d come. Not long after she’d left, she saw a hovercraft come down; it lifted the body, and that was that.

Earlier, not long ago at all, she had been asked to vote for someone to die. To live, that was much easier: of course she voted for Rush, who deserved to have a full life that had nothing to do with the Games. He was her District partner, she felt like he understood and knew her even though she had been entirely dishonest with him from the very beginning. Perhaps it was to counteract these sins that she’d committed that she wrote in Rush’s name.

To die, it was more difficult. The vote felt more substantial, certainly. Could it be that they were voting for someone to die right now, tonight? Selfishly, she could only think of herself for a few moments, unable to push beyond that. What if it was her head on the chopping block? What if people voted for her?

What if that was what she deserved?

What if it wasn’t a swift death?

She had written Atlas’s name in the end, and had found that after she had written it, she’d felt some release. A release of the burden she’d been carrying around with her. Some absolution or a step towards it, as if by Atlas’s dying, he would be taking the fall for both of them. He would be dying so that she could be free.

Of course, she knew that wasn’t how it worked. And now, looking at her bloody hands as she made her way towards the river, she knew that she didn’t deserve freedom. When Antigone had killed Lilybelle and sent her off to a senseless death, Maia had cried. She hadn’t known what to think or do.

When Antigone had killed their father, she had cried. It seemed that perhaps that was all she was good for; weeping and nothing else. Had she ever, before this night, taken an action for herself, a definite one? Had she ever caused things to occur, or had she simply been acted upon, moving with the wind as the leaves in these trees did?

Tonight, she had caused things to occur. Atlas’s fate was left to be determined, and she made it to the river, sticking her hands into the water, washing them clean, and then, because the water was cool and she was very hot, stepping fully into the water and allowing herself to be submerged by bending down. It wasn’t enough; she needed more. She pushed forward, moving towards the center of the river where the current was quicker, but she didn’t care. She felt like it was beckoning her, the water. She wanted to be washed clean completely. She knew it meant nothing. It would solve and do nothing. It would bring no one back, least of all her sister, least of all Juniper, whose body was now being taken to the Capitol.

Because of her.

She wanted to scream so she dunked her head underwater. Her mouth and lungs filled with it. She came up spluttering, coughing, and this was how she lost her footing.

The current was stronger than she’d thought, and she was swept away in it once her feet had left the rocky bottom of the river. Swept off towards the edge of the river which, in the moonlight, she had hardly seen, but now, as she was carried towards it, trying to turn and swim against it, trying to grab onto rocks, she saw that it ended. It curved.

It curved downwards.

She screamed again, this time taking in air and not water; she screamed for help, though she didn’t know if she deserved it. This was what getting clean was like, was it? This was how it worked? Was it a certain death? Would she have been better to remain bloody?

It clicked into place then, as her body flailed, that this was true. To live was to remain bloody. To clean oneself was to die in here. But her head dipped under the water and her foot hit a rock, her ankle smarting immediately, and there was no time for the morality play of it all, for considering the ethics. Her survival instincts took over.

She was nearing the edge, where the water tipped down, and there was a roaring sound, and Maia had seen pictures of waterfalls and had even seen one in real life once, though it was nowhere near this size. She tumbled over herself in the water, trying to orient, remember which way was up and which way was certain death. She grabbed for each rock she could see and reach, but they were all slippery.

She fought her way towards the bank, hitting her knee, her arm on more rocks, scrambling for footholds, handholds, anything, and she was within ten yards, eight, five, of the edge, when she spotted it in the darkness.

A branch, hanging low over the water.

There was only one chance. She had no time to question it. She had no time to doubt whether she could do it. If she didn’t, she’d be dead. If she did, she’d have time to understand. Nowhere in the equation was the thought: should I survive this moment?

She used a rock to jump, pressing her feet against it and leaping out of the water, grabbing onto the branch. For a moment she didn’t know if it would hold her. For a moment, it bowed, bent, but it did not break.

She scrambled to find a foothold on a rock that jutted out from the water, and straightened up, the current rushing around her ankles. She peered at the edge of the waterfall, where it would have all ended. It couldn’t have been more than three yards away from where she was now, clinging to the branch, gasping, coughing.

It was from there that she watched a branch in the river tip over the edge of the waterfall and tumble down. She watched it disappear, and then reemerge at the bottom, where the water splashed back up. After only an instant, something alit; the branch created a zap that looked familiar, one she’d seen on the rooftop of the Tower.

The forcefield.

It was right there.

Breathing, clinging to the branch, tears mixing with the river water on her face, Maia looked at her hands. She swore she saw a spot of blood.

[cityspideyofficial]

Most of us are in a habit of enlivening ourselves by sipping our tea. And ever since the pandemic struck last year, our perspectives towards tea did not remain the same. Earlier, we drank a variety of  teas for simple goals such as well-being, enjoyment, suppressing our hunger and restlessness or extended it to the purpose of trying what's new in the market.

However, after Covid-19,  it changed to what's the purpose of having tea? Yes, we defined our purpose for having tea according to our body needs and constitution. We were guided towards different kadhas, herbal teas and drinking of lukewarm water as much as possible. Also, no one can deny the fact that tea prices rose almost to double during the pandemic. The tea which used to cost Rs 80-90 was priced between Rs 125-145 instantly.

All of us tried different kadhas, types of teas, turmeric lattes, using a variety of herbs from our kitchen in our tea. And we all tried our hands at different recipes and played around with different mixes of tea, customised according to the need of our body constitution.

Many people learnt how to identify body constitutions or Dosha Prakriti. Be it you are of Vaat constitution or of  Pitta or Kapha, tea changes amplify your mood, and can help you to heal. Such herbal teas, which are made up of flowers, herbs and spices definitely help in reduction of anxiety, worry, fear, anger, irritation, depression and other emotional imbalances.

But did you know there are different types of teas available in the market according to your need? Yes, the motive specific Ayurvedic and flower teas or the calming “tisane” (the French word for tea) are very helpful.

Well, you need not know rocket science for that, just know what you want around your health and you are good to go. If you are a sickly type, who is constantly felled by stomach upsets, headaches and colds or among those who just wish to detox and relax, you need not worry as there are plenty of tea concoctions available according to your need. Not forgetting that there are people who aim at having good skin and keep their diabetes in check.

Usually, we can have different motives for drinking tea – you may want to lose weight, or just get relieved from stress, many are there who want their skin to glow, or bust the cold, cough or headache.  Luckily, there's always a soothing cup of herbal tea available or even better, most of the herbs can be grown at home in your potted plants. And neither of these teas would require any special equipment to make them. The teas I have mentioned below are usually drunk hot and preferably in the mornings and evenings for at least a month for the effect to be visibly noticed. And since these teas do not have any caffeine in them though, they can easily be drunk at night as well.

I have also mentioned the tentative herbs your motive specific tea may include.

Reduce your blood sugar: If your aim is as the start of this para mentions, do try Hibiscus Flower Tea, it helps in reducing blood sugar.  Hibiscus flower tea contains powerful antioxidants that protect and repair cells; offers a rich source of iron to support strong blood and circulation; helps reduce blood sugar levels by prohibiting the absorption of carbohydrates; supports weight loss and weight management goals; calms the digestive system; and offers gastrointestinal relief.

Acidity relief tea: Yes this blend of herbal tea would include ingredients like Anantmool (Hemidesmus Indicus), Guduchi (Tinospora Cordifolia), Bala (Sida Cordifolia), Rasna (Pluchea Lanceolata), Shatavari (Asparagus Racemosus), Coriander Seed, Licorice Root, Cardamom, Milk Thistle and Ginger etc.

Clear skin tea: Now this is something most women would fall for (pun intended). This type of tea generally consist of flowers and herbs such as Rose Petals, Calendula, Rosemary Leaves, Lavender Flower, Mint (Pudina) Leaves, Sage, Chamomile Flower, Thyme Leaves, Licorice Root, Neem Leaves, Aloe Vera leaves and Green Tea.

Detox tea: I believe this is the latest fad in the market. All the conscious ones are popping in pills but they can switch to the specific Organic Chamomile Tea as Calming Tisane – it helps in improving sleep quality. Chamomile naturally relaxes the nervous system, which not only aids against insomnia, but also improves sleep quality. It calms an upset stomach and boost your immune system.

PCOS relief tea: I find this as the most common condition found in women. Now you girls can integrate the following herbs or tea type for containing this messy ailment. Such type of flower or herb blend tisane helps cure acne, facial hair growth, scalp hair loss related to hormonal imbalance. It consists of Organic Spearmint Leaves (Mentha Spicata), Cinnamon Barks (Cinnamomum Verum), Ashwagandha (Withania Somnifera), Vana Tulsi (Ocimum Sanctum), Gokhshura (Tribulus Terrestris), Licorice Root (Glycyrrhiza Glabra), St John Wort (Hypericum perforatum), Organic Nettle Leaves (Urtica Dioica), Flax Seed (Linum Usitatissimum), Fenugreek Seed (Trigonella Foenum-Graecum), Chaste Berry (Vitex Agnus-Castus) and Green Tea and the list can be a little different according to the brand you opt for.

[lunasxsol]

6 Months

Shawn x latina!reader

Word Count: 1576

(A/N: Let me know if y’all would like a part 2! Feedback is greatly appreciated!)

Summary:  Y/n and Shawn had been dating for 6 months, everything was going great, at least for her it was. Don’t get Shawn wrong, it was going great for him too but it just wasn’t enough.

...

Today was a nice sunny day, both Y/n and Shawn were getting ready for a bbq Brian had thrown. Y/n was wearing a yellow floral dress with some strappy sandals and Shawn..well Shawn was wearing his usual black skinny jeans with a white fitted t-shirt.

“Hey honey did you buy the champagne?” Shawn asked looking through the cabinet. “Uhh no why?”

He scoffed, “Babe I asked you to pick up champagne on your way home and you said yes.”

She closed her eyes and counted to 10 backwards. Did I mention she has anger issues. She had a tendency of pushing people away with her anger. She pushed her sisters and father away with it. “Sorry, I got busy and must’ve forgotten. We can just pick some up on the way there.”

“Not like we have a choice.” Shawn muttered, grabbing his keys and starting the car. Y/n grabbed her purse as her phone began ringing. She closed the door to her room quickly answering the call.

“Hi mamá.”

Hola hija, como estas?

(Hi sweety, how are you?)

“Bien, ya voy de salida.Voy a celebrar el cumpleaños de unas de mis amigas.”

(Good,I’m going out. I’m going to celebrate a friends birthday.)

Que bien mi niña, no quiero quitarte mucho de tu tiempo, te hablaba para decirte que tu padre se puso mal.

(Good sweety, I don’t want to take much of your time, I was calling because your dad got sick.)

“Que le paso?”

(What happened?)

Tiene un tumor en el cerebro, no sabemos cuanto tiempo tenga.

(He has a brain tumor, we don’t know how long he has.)

“Oh my god mom.” My vision became blurry with the tears that were threatening to spill. I didn’t want to believe it. “No te han dicho nada?”

(They haven’t said anything?”)

No hijita no se puede hacer nada. Nadamas podemos esperar.

(No sweetheart there’s nothing they can do, we can only wait.)

“Ire mañana para San Francisco.”

(I will go tomorrow to San Francisco.)

Y/n-

“Ya se mamá pero es mi padre, lo quiero ver.”

(I know mom but he is my dad and I need to see him.)

Bueno mija es tu decision.

(Fine sweetheart it is your decision.)

“Y/n, we have to go.” Shawn came rushing into the room.

“Te llamare mañana, te quiero.” I didn’t let her reply, hanging up the phone and wiping away the

Tears.

(I will call you tomorrow, I love you.)

“You okay?” He asked stepping closer to me. I nodded, “Uhh, yeah, just a colleague.”

“What happened? Why are you crying?” He wiped away one of my tears, this was the first time he had ever seen me cry, I felt weak and vulnerable. I hated that feeling. “Fuck Shawn can you just drop it? I just said it was a colleague so just drop it.”

He scoffed, “Oh I’m sorry I just wanted to know if everything was alright with my girlfriend. I’m so sorry for worrying about her crying.”

I rolled my eyes, “See not crying, can we just go?”

...

The ride to Brian’s house was quiet, no small banter about which song they should play and no hand holding just complete silence. Once they had arrived it was like a switch had flipped in her. They got out of the car and she had a smile plastered on her face, she even grabbed Shawn’s hand and intertwined their fingers. They walked hand in hand into the party and greeted everyone. All Shawn could do was stare at her. Not so long ago she had tears in her eyes mixed with anger but now she was happy.

“Glad you guys made it. Shawn I see you forgot the champagne.” Brian chuckled as if he knew we were going to forget it.

“Sorry it was my fault, Shawn asked me to pick it up from work but I completely forgot.”

“No worries, I had a feeling you love birds would forget. Santiago bought a couple.” He pointed to the guy that was facing the grill. “I met this guy on the plane ride back from the Philippines, dude is absolutely hilarious. Hey Santiago!” He yelled for the guy, the guy turned and I could almost cry.

“Santi?”

“Y/n?”

I ran into his arms, “Oh my god, I’ve missed you so much.”

“How long has it been?”

I wiped away a couple tears, “Only four years.”

“Baby don’t cry,” He wiped away at my tears, “I’ve-”

“Baby?” I heard a voice say from behind me. I pulled away from Santi.

“Uhh Santi, this is Shawn my boyfriend. Shawn this is Santi my long lost best friend.”

“Hey man, nice meeting you.” Shawn shook his hand. “You too. Y/n I’ll catch up with you in a bit.” Sant said walking back to the grill.

“So? Santiago?” Shawn asked.

“He’s my childhood best friend, we, uh, we lost contact four years ago.-”

“Y/n lets play bear pong!” Ally pulled me to the girls table.

...

“What’s up with you?” Brian asked taking a seat next to Shawn. “You’re being distant.”

He chuckled, “Nah man, I just- we’ve been dating for half a year and I still feel like I know nothing about her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I heard her talking over the phone to her mom, she was crying but when I walked in she said it was her colleague. And when I pressed her about it she just snapped, we got into a small argument and well now she’s jolly.”

Brian took a sip of his drink, “You just have to have patience with her man.”

“I have! We’ve known each other for a year, we’ve been dating for six months and all I’ve gotten is that she has two sisters and her mom and dad live in San Francisco. She doesn’t even visit them, I don’t even think she likes her family.”

“So you haven’t met her parents?” Brian asked and Shawn shook his head, “No, everytime we make “plans” either they cancel last minute or she does, I’m just tired of this.”

“Do you think she’s cheating?”

“I wouldn’t even be surprised, she’s just so secretive about everything. She basically has no emotion when we are together, sometimes I feel like I’m dating a robot-”

Before they could finish there was a clinking of bottles and then a crash, they all turned to see what had happened, Y/n sat by the mess giggling at what had happened. Santiago ran to her pick her up and sitting her on one of the benches.

“Go to her, I’ll pick up.”

Shawn went to her as she continued to giggle at Santiago.

Santiago was cleaning up the blood from her knee with a napkin and some water, “God Y/n what happened to you, babe.” He turned to Shawn, “She doesn’t drink, she never liked it at least she didn’t.”

Shawn was confused but stayed silent, “I want to sleep.” Y/n slurred. “Santi take me home please.”

“Don’t know where you live babe.” Shawn was annoyed he didn’t like him referring to his girl as babe,”Y/n her names Y/n.”

Santiago turned to him, “Seriously man, your girl is out of her mind intoxicated and instead of helping you’re worried about me calling her babe? God you hets are really insecure.”

Y/n groaned, “Oh god.” She quickly turned to the trash can throwing up majority of the alcohol from her system, Santiago had grabbed one of her scrunchies and pulled her hair up in a bun. “Please go away, both of you.” Both of them ignored her and stayed put.

Brian threw a water bottle to Shawn to give to Y/n. He took her to the upstairs bathroom to get cleaned up. “I’m sorry.” She told Shawn as he helped her get cleaned up. “I really have never been much of a drinker.”

He smiled bitterly at her, “Thank you for telling me, even if it was a year and six months late.”

“Shawn-”

“Are you cheating on me?” He got right to the point.

She scoffed, “What the hell makes you think that? I have never given you a reason have I?”

“You’ve given me plenty of reasons. You won’t talk to me, I know nothing about you. And after a year and a half of knowing each other I find out you had a long lost friend and oh yeah that you don’t drink.”

“Oh god, I’m not doing this.” I turned ready to leave.

“Then when?” He yelled. “When will I ever get to know you?”

Thankfully someone had knocked on the bathroom door.

“We are not done with this conversation.” He told me walking out of the bathroom. I walked over to Santi who was sitting by himself in the kitchen. He opened his arms and as if on instinct I threw myself to him.

“I can’t-” I sobbed. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“What’s wrong baby?” He rubbed my back.

“Papi’s dying and Shawn thinks I’m cheating on him. I feel like I’m incapable of showing him how much I love him. I’ve never felt like this.. not since Christina. I don’t know how to let him in and I’m just so scared.”

[drcwnedman]

What We Do To Traitors →  Self Para

Part 2 of 4: (x) x (x) (x) Trigger Warnings: torture, general gore, mention of dismemberment

It was finally happening. 

An itch that had been taunting Jeremiah for more than two years, was finally getting scratched. The death of his father and his voting in as vice president were supposed to be a sort of celebration. Finally given a chance to lead; to prove himself to the ghost of his father repeated over and over in the eyes of the oldest club members. But whatever high he was riding was plummeted when Kane Seifer made his announcement:  The Trojans. Back then he wanted to laugh at the irony - a Trojan horse making itself known in their own ranks - but now Jeremiah wasn’t laughing. Too much blood had been shed. Too many slip ups have been allowed. It was time once and for all to show Olympus who the real winners of this war would be. The plan in itself was a simple one: grab Kane, take him out of town and then - well, take him out. 

There were plans that had to be enacted before they could actually go through with anything and that left Jeremiah chomping at the bit.  Andy had done some research, watching Kane’s movements to make sure everything went well. And he knew that it was important, but God Kane not only betrayed the club, but put their families in danger. The image of Rowan hitting the ground at the 40th anniversary celebration, the thought of what this fucking traitor did to Reina? He had to be punished. So as they were packing up, Jer threw some extra weapons into the back of the van by his older brother to do just that. The two of them were acting as the finishers in this plan; while Andy enacted the first half. They all wanted to win this final battle, but Andy was on parole, he was a suspect in an open murder case, and he also had a bum leg. The middle son made a note to let Andy get a few swings in before he went to take watch. 

Having to keep himself to the plan as Andy stopped the car and went to grab the man in question, Jer’s knee bounced in impatience. The thought passed his mind once or twice en route, to just shoot the enemy. But Jackson wanted him to suffer, and Jer did also have a wild amount of pent up anger towards the other club. Anyways, Jer didn’t even have a chance to say anything. The door to the back of the van was swinging open immediately, and the middle Thane brother jumped into action. He grabbed at the back of an unconscious Kane’s shirt to relieve his brother from the pressure of using his bad leg. And maybe he let Kane’s head ricochet against the wall a little too hard as Jack slammed the door shut behind them and Andy slammed on the gas again. 

No one noticed them, which was almost like a sign that the universe was on the Primordial side of all this - as it should be. Their route to the abandoned house wasn’t new, and even without seeing it, Jer could tell exactly where they were based on the way the truck moved. They were almost there, and then he could finally let all this fucking energy out. But Kane was still unconscious and what was the fun in what he had planned if the man wasn’t awake to experience it too? So after his little brother cut the ignition, Jeremiah, without so much of a second thought, started half carrying half dragging the Trojan behind him. The bare bones of a living area was prepared in front of them. A table and a wobbly chair was all that was there, and after dumping the body, Jer took the array of weapons from Jackson before the eldest brother took his post in the back corner. Grabbing a bucket from his pile, Jeremiah filled it with water and ice that he insisted on bringing along. The reason was finally shown to the other two as the vice president dumped the entirety over Kane’s head. “Wake the fuck up,” 

Suddenly, his voice wasn’t his own. It was one he hadn’t heard in years. The one that gave him nightmares even still. Cronus was in the room with them as Jeremiah waited for the water to do it’s job. When he heard the groaning sound of a man coming back to consciousness behind him, Jer grabbed his first choice. A wooden bat with the intials JT scratched into the handle. Did it stand for Jeremiah or Jackson? At this point the memory was so faded he couldn’t tell, but Jer didn’t care. Tossing it in the air for a moment, he glanced at the darkened corner Jackson had taken stance in. Grinning at him, Jeremiah swung the bat around with his body and with a loud crack, smashed the wood into Kane’s jaw. “How nice of you to clear your schedule for us, Seifer. It’s been far too long since we chatted.” The booming joy in his voice was misplaced as he handed Andy the bat to get his swings in before taking watch. “I’m glad we could meet like this.”

Stop playin around boy, That tantalizing voice was back as Jeremiah sorted out his next weapon, the grunts, yells and thuds behind him barely registering as he picked one of the newer knives in his arsenal. He let it tilt in the small bit of light afforded to them by the bare lightbulb on the table. Do what you came here to. “Oh fuck off old man,” Jeremiah hadn’t realized he said it out loud until afterwards, but he figured Kane and Andy were a little too busy to hear him, so he let the slip up fade into the darkness. “This ain’t your fight to fight anymore.” Patting Andy on the shoulder, tapping himself into the next round essentially, Jeremiah raised Kane’s chin with the blade of his knife. “Ya know. It feels like we’re doin’ a hell of a lotta talkin’ and you’re not...what’s up with that, Kane? We not interesting enough for you?” letting the knife leave a shallow cut down the side of the man’s neck, he leaned back. 

“Tell me, big guy...if you were me. And my stash of guns were stolen. Where do you think I should go to look for them first?” Without waiting for an answer, Jeremiah stabbed Kane in the side. “Because you see. I don’t share well. Ask Jackson. So I’d like them back…” But there was no reply. Laughing lowly, Jeremiah’s booted foot went out to press against Kane’s chest. “Still don’t feel like talkin’?” Putting all his weight on the other man’s chest, Jeremiah let the chair he was tied to collapse under the weight and crash the traitor to the ground. “Well we can do other things if you want.” His boot moved from chest to arm as he stomped until he heard the shattering of bone. 

What felt like minutes later, but was more like an hour, Jeremiah’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, sweat creased his brow and he was covered in blood. A mix of Kane’s and his own as Kane did his best to fight back with what he had at his disposal. The middle Thane son’s attempts to bleed their captive dry of any information wasn’t as successful as they would’ve liked, but there was a bigger task at hand. Crouching down so he was eye level with a bleeding Kane, he raised an eyebrow, bloody knife twirling between his fingers. “Lemme level with ya here, Kane. I’ve got a lot more I wanna do...but Jack? He’s here too. And he told me to keep you alive. So you should thank him when you see him.” Jeremiah pulled himself up, ready to pass the torch to his older brother, bum a smoke off Andy and let the cool air hit his face because finally, finally they had won. But. There was one last humiliation left. Suddenly, Jeremiah’s knife was slashing across Kane’s waistband time and time again. Until the screams of a traitor filled his ears. Satisfied, Jeremiah’s back straightened with a piece of Kane in his hand that he never really thought he’d be this close too. But he kept walking, nodding at Jack, hoping he’d see the phallic gift for his little brother left next to the weapons he saved for Jack’s grand finale. 

[coldxsilver]

No Sunshine -

- Flashback - Self Para -

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The noise was constant. It was as if he had never heard any other noise in his life. He sat staring at the wall, paint curling like a deformed snake uncovering black beneath spread over the area before him. It smelled of cigarettes and stale urine. The sound though. It was exclusively the thundering drip. 

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

He was collapsed on a floor, wet and naked. His body ached. He would never be happy again, he felt that in his core. Not in some fashion that screamed for help or as if he had given into some sort of emotional spiral. No. Not Theodore Dolion. He had just given up, he couldn’t bring himself to feel really anymore. He was sure some doctor would call it depression or some sort of mental disturbance but to him it was just a realization. 

Drip.

A realization that the world was full of shit and shit people. That if you didn’t wade into the shit and manipulate it to your own desires. Well then you’d have nothing to show for yourself. If you wanted the world to know your name and to feel your power, then you had to shut down. Connections. Love. Happiness. They were illusions that held you back, made you feel as if you had something to look forward too but honestly the world would just tear it down and rip it apart. The world had fangs and you had to bite back if you wanted to live in it. 

Drip.

Drip.

Eyes glazed he continued to stare ahead. His body wouldn’t move, though his mind told him to get up, he just stayed where he was listening to the continual noise of the drip. Breath slow. He tried to wrap his head around things again, he was only sixteen. Sixteen years old and he was alone. Completely alone in the world. He stopped for a brief moment and turned his head to the side, stomach turning as he began to vomit. Bile dripping from his chin as he broke, the events of the last forty-eight hours weighing on his psyche in full as he let the warm sick spill from inside him. 

He had begun to cry. He didn’t remember when he began to cry. He felt it now though, the hot liquid pouring down his cheeks, falling to the ground below mixing with stomach acid. He let himself slump fully to the floor now. Body curling on it’s side. He couldn’t let anyone see him be this weak. He had seen her, his mother, the only person he had ever loved. He had seen her lying dead in the convenience store floor. Blood pouring over the linoleum like some messed up Jackson Pollock painting under flickering halogen bulbs. 

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

His skin felt disgusting. He felt disgusting. He had seen her dead. All because some piece of human filth had needed money. She had been killed for money. His breathing quickened as his shock began to wear off and he felt a bit of the anger again, the fuel given to him when he had trapped down the man who had done it. Not even some gang member or someone important, no just some random idiot who thought that taking away his mother was worth a few hundred dollars. The thought made Theo want to scream. 

He didn’t scream though. He had already done his screaming today. When his boys had tracked down the man for him, they had dropped him out in the alley for Theo to see him. He hadn’t even given a good reason. He had sat their begging for his life. As if his life fucking mattered because he had a family. What about Theo’s family? What about his mother’s life? He had wanted to help out his family and he was just scared? Idiot. Piece of shit. 

Drip.

When Theo’s knife had cut the man’s throat he had reveled in it. Looking into those eyes he had seen a truth. A truth he hadn’t realized that he needed to see, but a truth none the less. God didn’t exist. Nothing existed but power. Nothing mattered but power and control. Theo was the one with the power in that moment, he had his life in his hands and he held all the cards. He knew all the information and he knew how everything was going to end, not the man who was resting on his knees in front of him. That was the moment that Theo knew he needed that power. 

This man had taken away his mother’s power. He had robbed her of her life and taken away the only piece of the universe that made a difference in Theo’s life. He would probably be put into some state system now. He didn’t care. The boy’s had made sure that he had disappeared after, a long with a payoff to a random dirty cop. The details didn’t matter, just Theo’s moment of revenge. The moment he had seen the light leave the man’s eyes. He didn’t remember his name. His name didn’t matter. He was nothing, he was nothing but a body now. Just like his mother. Just like anyone who didn’t have the power to control other and win. Theo was going to be a winner, he would never let himself feel powerless. 

He needed to get up. He couldn’t stay on this hotel floor the rest of the day. Given his desires he could spend the rest of his life here if he didn’t make himself get up and face the world. He realized he was lying in his own vomit. His clothes discarded on the side of the room. He needed to destroy those, covered in the man’s blood. He needed to get up and shower. He needed to change his world, he needed to force others to recognize him for the power he felt inside, he was a force and he would never let others take advantage of him. He’d never let someone take away his power again, even if it meant never letting himself love another person so he didn’t have to feel this way. 

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

He pushed himself off the floor. Rising to his feet. He wiped his face and looked around the room. Moving to the old sink in the open bathroom doorway, pushing it until drip finally stopped, the only noise he had heard for over an hour. His breathing began to finally come back to something resembling normal. He looked up into the mirror, staring into what must have been his face. He barely recognized himself. Face red, puffy and covered in a sickening mixture of vomit, blood and tears. He felt his chest heave and collapse a bit in his breathing as he attempted to make sure he didn’t lose control of himself again, he had to maintain his control forever. 

He turned to the shower and stepped inside. The cold water hitting him immediately as he slipped under the liquid. It wasn’t hot. He didn’t care. He couldn’t bring himself to care about it. He just stood, leaning into the water as he felt the activity of the day pour off of him. He felt the sick wash away in this dim lit bathroom. He noticed now his hands were shaking slightly, slowly steadying as the adrenaline from the day and the shock wore off of what he had actually done. Theo found himself fine with it. 

He wasn’t the boy he had been just a few days ago. The liar with the silver tongue. The talented boy who couldn’t exactly change the world, but could survive in it. He was done surviving, he was going to do so much more now. He wasn’t a boy anymore, no he was done being a boy. He wasn’t exactly a man either, he was something more, something changed and powerful. He could use the skills he’d gained to change his station and his life. This was the moment that he stopped being anyone’s victim. 

Theodore Dolion was dead. His emotions were muddled and he was gone. His heart was destroyed, but he was stronger for it. He would never quite accept that she was taken from him so violently, but now he knew what to do when people took something from you. You took back what you wanted and you did it hard. His eyes closed as the water pelted his skin. He felt more than he had ever felt before, he felt alive. 

[sopharsogood]

Not Blood But Close || Self-para

Sophie pulled the pods from her ears and swiped at the sweat dripping down her cheeks. Her muscles burned from the workout, something she would likely regret in the morning, since she’d been rather lax in keeping up with her training while she was away. The chain holding the heavy bag still creaked with the remnant swaying and she almost mistook the faint rapping sound for the chain rattling. Until she heard it again. Draping the towel around her shoulders she went up the basement stairs, through the kitchen to the front door. She could see the mess of blonde hair and the familiar, dopey grin in one of the small windows inset in the front door: Carson Scott. 

She’d been frustrated (no, she’d been angry) with the Scotts for not having Charlie declared legally dead. Maybe it had been selfish on Sophie’s part, but she felt stuck in her life without some kind of closure. If she wasn’t dead, and couldn’t be found to sign the divorce papers, Sophie was stuck in limbo, unable to move forward. But that frustration never quite made its way to her brother-in-law. Even when it bubbled over a little, it only ever rolled off his jovial back. There was no way she could be mad at the man that helped train her, get her into a routine that made her stronger, that focused the negative energy she carried outward instead of inward. 

She rolled her eyes and shook her head at the face he made but couldn’t help her own laugh as she opened the door for him. After the shock of seeing Charlie the night before, Carson’s ridiculous mug was a surprising comfort. “You know, when you do that you look like a giant, blonde Forrest Gump,” she teased as he leaned down for a one-armed hug. She used both, squeezing his neck and popping a kiss on his cheek. 

“Crap, I guess I shoulda brought chocolates instead of your mail,” he answered. In his other arm was a small box which he handed over when they separated. “Most of it’s addressed to your ma, but there’s a few things in there for you. I tossed the ads and shit.” 

“You’re a lifesaver, Car,” she said as she took the box and led them to the small dining table. She set it down and started rummaging through the envelopes, trying to ignore the small pang seeing her mother’s name on many of the pieces. 

Carson followed her in, looking around the small living room and even smaller dining room. The changes were minor, little things here and there that Sophie had done after her mother died. “Still working out I see,” he noted, poking a finger into her bicep. There was little resistance there, even after a few months off. 

“Not still. Again,” she answered, folding the flaps of the box over each other and pushing it away. She toed a chair out for him and pulled a separate one for herself. She went to the fridge and pulled out a pair of water bottles, set one in front of him and took her seat, swigging nearly half the bottle in large gulps. “I didn’t do much while I was away. A little climbing, plenty of walking and hiking, but no forms, no bags to work with. It was a nice break, but I gotta get back into it.” Especially since her stress level had spiked again knowing Charlie had returned, she didn’t add. 

Carson murmured his thanks and nodded his understanding as he sipped. “I can get you back in the ring at the gym when you’re ready,” he offered. “Been a while since I had the air knocked out of me.” The last was said with a friendly smirk, recalling a sparring session that had gotten a little aggressive on Sophie’s part. With over a foot height difference between them, she wasn’t able to land more than glancing blows to his head. But she had managed to take advantage of a weak spot in his defense one day and land a crushing blow to his solar plexus that staggered the larger man. All had been forgiven, but neither had forgotten.

“Yeah, give me a couple weeks or so to get my wind back and I’ll take you up on it. I promise, no takedowns this time.” Sophie sipped as silence stretched between them. They’d managed to keep their own relationship (mostly) separate from all the pain and bullshit of she and Charlie. After all, Charlie had hurt him and her family as much as she’d hurt Sophie. They’d all been abandoned, they’d all lost her. “I uh, saw Charlie at Moonie’s last night,” she said, breaking the silence with a wavering voice.

Carson winced and ran a hand down his face as he sat back in his seat, the artificial limb stretched in front of him. “Yeah, I ah, I’d hoped to catch you and tell you before...I’m sorry Soph.” His shoulders twitched in a minute shrug. “All the stuff with dad, I didn’t see you were back until today.” He paused, bright blue eyes searching her face. “You okay?”

Sophie gave her own one-shouldered shrug. “I will be. It was just a shock, you know? Like seeing a ghost.” She blinked quickly and cocked her head at him, eyes narrowing. “Wait, what stuff with your dad?”

“Cancer,” Carson answered simply, exhaling a long breath. Sophie could see the pain in his furrowed brow, the way his eyes fell to the bottle in front of him. “Chemo, radiation, the whole nine. Not sure what’s fucking him up more, the disease or the treatment.” He spun the bottle in nervous twitches of his fingers at its base. “About the time it got diagnosed, a month or so ago, I happened to see Charlie pop up on insta and talked her into coming home.” 

Sophie scratched at her temple, her own brows knitting at the complicated crux of emotions swirling inside her. “Fuck, Carson, I’m so sorry. Do you guys need...is there anything I can help with?” When her own mother was deteriorating, it was Carson who offered to keep an eye on her now and again so Sophie could get a break. The wound was still rather fresh but she’d do what she could to help. 

“I think we’ve got it covered, for now,” Carson answered. “I’ll let you know though. Charlie’s actually been good with him, with all of this, since she’s been back. I half expected her to blow in, say her goodbyes and take off again.” The last was said with a rueful chuckle. 

At this point it wouldn’t surprise Sophie if Charlie took off again since seeing her. It was one thing to come back for the family with Sophie out of the picture; it was another entirely to deal with both at once, and she had no idea if Charlie could handle it. She had no idea about anything where Charlie was concerned anymore. “I’m glad she came back, for your sake, and your pop’s. You should know, I uh, kinda gave her papers last night. For a divorce. So that’s a thing. In case she, I dunno, needs to talk or something. Hell, at this point she probably doesn’t, she’ll just sign them and be done.” 

A look crossed Carson’s face, a mix of disappointment and resignation. He’d been their biggest champion every step of the way, the one rooting for them against all possible odds. He was the one that had kept the smallest spark of hope alive for Sophie for far longer than he probably should have. Even after she’d given up, years later, he never did. “You sure that’s what you want?” he asked softly. She flashed him a look full of hurt and anger and he immediately lifted his hands up defensively, palms out. “I know, okay? I get it, she fucked up royally. She’s the queen of fuck ups. She left all of us, Soph. But she also came back.” 

“Yeah, she left all of us. But she came back for you, and your dad. Not for me, not for us.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone. She didn’t want to put Carson in the middle of this. He didn’t deserve that. She took a couple of deep breaths, reminding herself that he wasn’t his sister, he wasn’t the source of her pain. “You’re family, Carson. You will always have that connection with her. You hung on to hope because of blood. I...couldn’t do that. I had to move on with my life. I’ve carried those papers for nearly five years, feeling like they were my last tether to her, and they kept getting heavier and heavier, like a yoke around my neck that I couldn’t shake. They were a weight in my pack and my life that isn’t there anymore.” She wasn’t completely sure that was true; it had been less than twenty-four hours and somehow she didn’t feel the lifting of that weight the way she’d expected. “Whatever we had before, it’s long gone. We’re acquaintances that have ancient history together, nothing more. After ten years, there’s not even pieces left to pick up. That’s not a marriage. Not even close.” She took a moment as her own words settled on her. “She’s your sister, and you love her. I appreciate that you care, I really do. And I promise I’ll do my best to keep you out of anything and everything between me and Charlie. I don’t want you stuck in the middle, or put in a position to pick sides. And I’m kinda short on friends these days, so I’d rather not lose one of my favorites,” she added, trying to lighten the mood a touch. 

Carson could only nod at her explanation. Or excuses. He wasn’t sure which it was. Either way she was right, he couldn’t put himself in the middle of the two of them, not if he wanted to keep them both, which selfishly he did. He finished his water and crumpled the bottle in his large paw. “Had to ask,” he said with a charming smile. He knew how much time had passed, and what had gone on with Sophie in the intervening years. He also knew he’d never seen two people more perfectly matched in his life, despite the craters that had been dumped between them (admittedly, the craters were mostly of his sister’s making). He pushed himself to his feet and tossed the bottle toward the recycling bin from his spot. It banked off the wall and went in. 

Sophie shook her head and chuckled, relieved that the tension that was rising had waned. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about us. We’ll figure out whatever the hell we’re supposed to figure out. You take care of your folks, yeah?” she reminded him as she followed him to the door. “And if you need anything, even just a break, you’re always welcome. Come over, watch a movie or some shit for a couple hours, get your mind off shit. I owe you a few of those.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied. He bent down and kissed the top of her forehead as he gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Still dropping your elbow?” he asked, brow rising. 

She rolled her eyes at him. “No...maybe...” She totally was. “Get out of here. Thanks for the mail. I owe you one.” 

“I’ll think of something good to call in that favor,” he grinned. With a wave he loped down the steps. She watched as he crossed the street, unable to help her eyes from wandering to the windows up and to the right of the front door. She thought she saw a shadow there but couldn’t be sure if it was really there or a trick of the light. 

You sure that’s what you want?

Right now, Sophie wasn’t sure of anything. 

[chinawof]

Detatched - Self Para

China didn’t know how she managed it, but God, she waited. Until he was safely off in his car headed toward the airport with a tender kiss to his lips and a forced smile in his wake. Until the front door was shut, and Cujo came sniffing at her as if she had been away for too long. Until Gabe had asked if she wanted something to eat and to talk about her trip only to turn him down.

She retreated upstairs with her suitcase and bags, the words beginning to play over in her head from the texts between Liam and Bill. The swirling haze of phrases and comments argued back and forth leaving a guilty taste on her tongue, had her chest clenching tight, breaths becoming quick with upset as she unpacked, neatly put away, meticulously, as if the distraction was welcome. She forced another smile to a passing Gabe with a comment of needing sleep; a quick blame of jet lag that she was so grateful he believed.

She heard her brother’s bedroom door close and the sound of a video game starting up muffled through the wall adding to the watery cacophony of sounds swirling through her head. Carefully changed into pyjamas her dad must have washed and put away while she was gone, welcoming some familiar comfort as Cujo settled himself at the end of her bed, awaiting treats and cuddles.

She managed to wait until she went to her’s and Lauryn’s bathroom. Locked the door behind herself, went to the bathroom sink to begin a long, arduous process of taking her make-up off, moisturising, and getting fully settled for bed. Tried her best to focus on her reflection, see what she was doing as she smoothed the wipe over her skin but her chest began to quake, and the tears followed a moment later. China tried her hardest to focus, knew if she let herself go there may be no real coming back.

But with bleary eyes came a swirling and dizzy mind, a pounding in her head that was frankly familiar now, and an oily feeling in her stomach. She let the wipe fall into the sink before retching over the toilet ridding her body of the food she had eaten today, but even that felt familiar to her now. 

China tried to catch her breath, flush whatever had just happened away and walk back over to the sink, her breathing heavy, head pounding, limbs tingling which was something new, if she were to dwell on it. She tipped out a glass that was holding some odd bits and pieces, rinsed it out quickly, filling it fast with cold water to take a mouthful and spit it back out, hoping to rid her mouth of the foul taste of bile.  

She took in another mouthful of the water, this time to swallow, trying to calm her tightening chest and foggy vision, but at the same time, found it going down the wrong way and a coughing fit ensued that she just couldn’t seem to shake. It turned into a complete hack in moments where her breath wasn’t being caught. She wasn’t sure at what point the glass shattered to the floor, spilling water and shards everywhere. 

She also didn’t remember the point in which she tumbled to the ground either, hands out to save herself, clattering in the glassy mess, mixing water with blood from deep cuts across her palms. 

All she knew was when, at some point, the door was kicked open by her flustered brother, China assumed he had heard the commotion. He ran and turned off a tap she must have left running, stepped in glass with his slippers enough to hear it give a sickening crunch against the floor, and take in the bleeding, hyperventilating form of his sister on the bathroom floor.

Gabe grabbed a towel, laying it on the floor so it wasn’t wet and slippy. Took a hand towel as he lent over China, wrapping her bleeding palms up as quickly as he could. “What happened?!” He asked, but it still sounded muddled and like it was under water. “Breathe. I need you to calm down and breathe.” 

She was damn lucky her baby brother was strong. A moment later she was scooped from the bathroom floor, and set down on her bed, Gabe forcing her head between her knees, loudly breathing to get her to follow the same.

It felt like forever.

It could have only been minutes.

Soon enough her breathing settled out, and her eyes and mind cleared with a newfound feeling of pain coming from her hands, and a bath towel that was once a pristine white now marred with red blood that was increasingly getting redder.

“You with me?” Gabe asked, focusing his eyes on her’s. 

China didn’t trust her voice, so she nodded instead. 

“We need to get this seen to.” He instructed her, and China had never been more thankful her baby brother had his head screwed on so right, because at that moment in time, she just wanted to curl up and cry a little more. 

It all still felt like a daze of actions, going through motions to get from one point to another. Gabe handed her a pair of jogging bottoms and a tank and hoodie, told her to get changed quickly so she didn’t catch her death sitting soaked like that, which was odd, because she hadn’t realised she was soaked from the water on the floor until a moment ago.

He went into the bathroom to try and fix the mess while she did as he asked, trying not to wince as glass embedded deeper into her palms, or blood managed to mar her new outfit along with the towel. 

Soon enough they were in Gabe’s car, driving to the nearest ER to be seen to, China still holding the towel as best she could, her brother giving her worried eyes the entire time. 

“How’d you even manage this?” He asked at one point whilst they sat in the waiting room.

China didn’t even know she had it in her when she gave him a straight face and a shrug. “Slipped on some water, must have smashed it along my fall, and when I went to stop myself...” She looked down to the reddened towel as if that finished her sentence. China sighed softly, because he brought the lie with a roll of his eyes and a bump of his shoulder into hers.

“You’re a clutz.” Gabe informed her.

China could only nod. 

They sat there for a while, and an hour later she was called in for a lovely tetanus shot, then a careful process of finding and removing all the shards of glass. The bigger parts of her cut up hands were glued shut, the smaller parts simply cleaned, then she was bandaged up and sent on her way with painkillers and promises to be more careful next time.

China pretended to sleep the drive back to their place so Gabe didn’t bother her with comments or questions. He shook her shoulder gently when they got home, parked up and helped her into the house with watchful and careful eyes. 

She wandered up to her room to finally sit in the darkness and dwell on what she had read from Liam and Bill once more. 

[laurent--stpierre]

THIS WILL END IN TEARS [2 / 4]

All right, so this is the start of a series of self paras that all tie into each other. They’re not being posted in chronological order, so make sure to take note of the dates they happened. The information in this self para will spread through the Organization quickly. Enjoy being able to react to it, and be a little bit smug to Johnathan. 

Date: August 6th, 2019. Warnings: Typical mob fare. It’s really long tho, so apologies.

“I’m going to level with you, I was looking to make this a bit more dramatic…”

The piece of shit hunched over in front of him didn’t respond.

“It’s not that I don’t care enough about you to put the effort in. It just turns out we picked the one sprawling estate without a fucking basement. Can you believe it?”

As the Frenchman took an exaggerated drag on his cigarette, he glanced around the room for a minute. It really was a world away from the basement he’d been forced to endure; decked out from floor to ceiling in palatial gold that could’ve only been by request of Aurélie. This prick must have thought himself so lucky to have ended up here. It didn’t matter to Laurent, though. Whilst this place mightn’t have had the same looming reputation the Russian torture chamber did, the former Commandant was more than content to make up for its shortcomings with his own hands.

When the man he addressed still didn’t respond, he could feel himself losing patience.

It was no fun if they didn’t play along.

“Come on, now. Did nobody ever tell you it’s rude to ignore your host?” Laurent asked, finally resorting to kicking at the leg of his captive’s chair as he blew smoke in his direction. “If you’re pretending to be unconscious so you don’t have to talk to me, I’m going to be offended.”

“You French cunts really do love the sound of your own voices, don’t you?”

As the man sighed, he appeared to deflate along with it.

“That’s more like it,” Laurent greeted, loudly enough that it visibly startled the Brit. As the Frenchman clapped his hands together in mock jubilation, the man finally looked up at his tormentor through his swollen eyes with a glare so evil, if looks could kill, Laurent would’ve been dead on the floor in a heartbeat. “I personally love the sound of my own voice, but don’t you go stereotyping us all, now. That’s racist.”

“What the fuck do you want, Laurent?”

It seemed an odd question to ask, under the circumstances. Did he even want to know?

“I just want a nice, friendly, productive conversation. How does that sound?”

Plucking this man off the streets had taken more planning than he cared to admit, but the boss had been adamant that this time, the biggest thorn in their side would pay the price for his sins. What happened with Théo had hit them all hard; they were, after all, an organization so used to absolute power that to be limited in this new city was a difficult situation for them to stomach. Whilst they hadn’t been able to intervene when it came to influencing the Met Police, however, they still had just enough eyes inside to know that a certain somebody had paid Théo a visit.

Laurent was sure that he hadn’t seen fire like that in her eyes since Versailles.

It was no secret that Westminster’s Commandant and Aurélie were close. Laurent reasoned that it was the only reason he’d gotten as far as he had in the first place. But for this to be the reason she finally snapped? For Johnathan’s unannounced visit whilst her friend was unattended to be the thing that pushed her over the edge? Unless there was something she wasn’t sharing—and as his short time as head of London, he’d already learned it was better not to ask—he was baffled by the escalation.

That didn’t mean they weren’t all happy to be finally making some moves, however.

Aurélie had been vague but absolute in her orders: Johnathan Parsons was to be reminded that despite what his ego might’ve told him, his actions did have consequences.

Johnathan Parsons was to suffer for all the times he had not suffered before.

The easiest way to get to the brute of a man would’ve been his child, and anybody who’d said the thought hadn’t immediately crossed their mind was a liar. No, they weren’t the Russians, and they tried to keep family off limits as best they could, but this was Parsons. Extreme measures were necessary. Of course, given that she was just about to bring a third into the world, and despite the fact she didn’t doubt they would stoop as low when it came to her, Aurélie had vehemently prohibited any violence against his daughter.

It’d taken slightly more grovelling on his part to spare Jessica Reyes what would’ve no doubt been a painful end. Aurélie hadn’t seemed pleased about that—she’d followed it up with a comment that made him wonder just how closely she was keeping an eye on him—but he had been insistent enough that eventually she’d got bored of arguing. Laurent didn’t regret it; partly because she reminded him of Claudia, but mostly because Johnathan reminded him of himself. The situation was not her fault, and she didn’t deserve to suffer for it.

Eventually, they had settled on the closest person that remained.

“And what exactly do you want to talk about?”

Laurent snorted. Where should they begin?

“I want to talk about everything, Jai. I want to talk about your boss. I want to talk about why one of my people was attacked by the Russians. I want to talk about Théodore Chaussard being behind bars. I want to talk about your business in Tower Hamlets. I want to talk about you slipping me Lara Rutherford’s number to make this go a little easier for you.”

It was his turn to scoff this time.

“No.”

For someone who was such a raging piece of shit, it was almost hard to believe that Johnathan could have any real friends at all. When it had become apparent back in Porto Velho that Jai Dalal was not only his right hand man, but also his most trusted confidant, however, the target on his back grew exponentially with every antagonistic move his best friend made. Jessica and Sarah might not have been ideal candidates, but a man who had committed just as many himself—or been passive to those his boss had in the meantime—was just as deserving of the pain as Parsons was.

“To which part? Don’t say Lara…”

“What the fuck was St. Clair thinking when she sent you here, huh? Her way of saying London is just a joke to the French, by any chance? How does someone like you make it to head of the city?”

If Laurent hadn’t already spent months asking himself those same questions to the point of absolute insensitivity, he might’ve taken the comment to heart. Instead:

“Fucked my way to the top.”

“I—” Jai started, but instead ejected yet another hefty sigh.

“Let me guess, you did the same thing? Johnny boy looks like the type…”

“So you don’t do basements. What, you and your dumb fucking comments like Chinese water torture are the new way of trying to break people?”

“I can send Varden back in, if you’d prefer?”

There was real beauty in seeing fear flash behind eyes that were trying so hard to hide it.

Jai said nothing.

“How about we bring someone else into the mix, instead? Maybe if there’s another person here for you to converse with, I won’t annoy you so much.”

It didn’t take long to tap out a message to his friends in the adjoining room.

“See, you’re the headliner, Jai, but we managed to pick ourselves up a little bonus prize whilst we were out scouting tonight.”

A few silent moments passed in which Laurent contemplated lightning another cigarette, before his action was interrupted by the sound of the dining room door swinging open. Two of his men flanked the hooded figure of a woman; it seemed an excessive entourage, given that she appeared far too injured to even think about fighting back. There was no struggle as they dragged her over, and dumped her square at Laurent’s feet.

It only took a quick once over to realise that the arm she was cradling had been so badly broken, it was visible through the skin. The silent weeping became more obvious as Sylvain and Jean walked away again, as did the realisation that they hadn’t restrained her because they didn’t need to.

“Don’t worry, it isn’t anybody you know,” Laurent assured, like he gave a solitary fuck, leaning forward to take a careful handful of the hood. “This is Ivanna.”

Laurent didn’t know why, but he hadn’t expected her to look worse than Jai did.

He was wrong.

It was a shame it’d come to this, really, because he’d seen her just before Varden and Daniel had been let loose. The woman had beautiful brown eyes, and features so feminine and delicate that it seemed impossible she was a fucking Russian. If she’d been walking down the street, with those same killer legs that were now twisted beneath her in an uncomfortable heap, she would’ve turned his head in a heartbeat. But now? Laurent didn’t doubt that it would take extensive amounts of surgery to give her back any semblance of…well, anything human in definition.

There was so much blood.

Aviv Kasyanenko sure could pick them.

The corner of his mouth turned upward slightly as he glanced down at her hands. The left ring finger was missing as a special fuck you from Daniel, no doubt.

“It’s okay,” Laurent said in a hushed whisper, as though comforting a child, reaching forward slightly to brush against her hair. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”

It didn’t surprise him that nothing more than a strangled sob followed.

“You’re here because I want to talk to you, okay? Nothing else. The more you can help me out here, the less likely it is I send you back to them. I really don’t want to do that, Ivanna, but I’m going to need your help.” Sighing out through his nose, Laurent looked down at the dumb fucking bitch. It was a sight so pathetic he was finding it remarkably difficult not to visually cringe. Might’ve made that feigned sympathy a little less convincing, though… “How about we get you up off that floor and into a chair, huh? You can sit in my seat.”

Luckily enough, Jai had either slipped back into unconsciousness, or had just learned how to behave, because the idiot didn’t speak a word as the Frenchman slowly hoisted the pretzel into the chair. It seemed impossible, but she almost looked more uncomfortable now she was seated. Maybe he’d find a second to feel bad about it later. Until then, and now that he was without his own chair, he slowly crouched so that he was face to face with her.

“Is that better?”

Even though he knew it wasn’t, it seemed as though she’d nodded because she was scared not to.

“Thank you…”

“Did you hear that, Jai?” Laurent gasped, turning his head quickly to glance at the Indian. “That’s what it sounds like to have manners. You could learn a lot from the Russian, here.”

Silence.

Prick.

“Unfortunately, he’s not too chatty, Ivanna, but he’s going to help us with this conversation we’re going to have, is that all right?”

The brunette nodded stiffly, and his warm smile seemed to have comforted her somewhat, because for the first time since she’d entered the room, she finally looked up at him. Laurent immediately wished she hadn’t. They were as badly damaged as the rest of her. As his own gaze travelled down to the hands she cradled in her lap, he slowly took a hold of the one which wasn’t missing a finger or attached to a compound fracture. It felt like ice. As he brushed his thumb across her knuckles, he couldn’t help but wonder whether or not he still had that bottle of hand sanitizer tucked away in his jacket pocket…

“The first thing I need to ask you is when did you get here? When did you come to London?”

The interrogation proved to be an arduous process. Most of her answers were quiet, stuttered, or forced through the sound of what could’ve easily been her choking on her own blood. Jai seemed to have no understanding as to why he was present, and that amused Laurent even more than the bitch before him who genuinely believed that he was going to help her if she was honest. The Frenchman alternated between holding her hand and gently stroking her hair as she answered the basic questions about the Russians, where they were set up, whether she’d come with Aviv, and who else had followed her out to the city.

Ivanna bared all because she was scared.

Because she was not a mobster, and because she just wanted the pain to stop.

Laurent didn’t feel bad for her when she started to cry. All he could think about was how much Claudia must’ve been hurting when the Russians had done the same thing to her.

It wasn’t until he finally got to the most important question of all that Jai would learn why the Frenchman hadn’t conducted this discussion in another room.

“Why did the Russians come to London, Ivanna? Did Aviv tell you?”

When her eyebrows pulled into a confused frown, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the Russians could’ve headed to any city they liked. Why pick London?”

There were other things he’d wanted to ask; perhaps, he could’ve even phrased that more subtly. Unfortunately, it seemed as though her strength was fading by the minute, and as her head lolled back uncomfortably—like a child trying to fight sleep—he quickly moved his hand up to help her. The tears had started to well again. It was almost as though she knew that her answer would condemn her family, even though he was sure she didn’t realise quite how much.

“It’s all right,” he whispered, bringing her head to rest against his shoulder. Blood on his Hugo motherfucking Boss. Unreal. “This is the last thing I need to know, and then you can go, all right?”

“It was what they agreed.”

“What who agreed?”

Laurent spared a glance at Jai.

The man was a professional. There was no way on God’s green Earth the French would’ve been able to get the answers out of him, no matter how long he was left alone with Laurent. What seemed unlikely, however, was that he would be able to stop himself from reacting to somebody weaker spilling everything right in front of him. Ivanna might not have been the most reliable source in the world, but if he could get the back up of a reaction from Jai, then her words would surely hold more weight than that of a woman trying to save her own life.

Not that she seemed intelligent enough to lie.

“I don’t kn—” It sounded as though she was really struggling, now. If she didn’t hurry the fuck up, he might miss out on the confirmation all together. “I don’t know everything. Aviv doesn’t tell me.”

“Who agreed on what, Ivanna?”

“The Rutherfords, when they asked for help in Porto…”

In a split second, it felt like all of the air had been sucked from the room.

Of all the cancerous things he was expecting might leave her mouth, that was not one of them.

Porto? They were in fucking Porto?

“What do you mean? What help did the Rutherfords ask for in Porto Velho?”

“They needed help. Help. The hotel. If we helped with the hotel, they said we could come here…”

If he hadn’t been so stunned by the words that had just left her dumb fucking mouth, he might’ve made a solid attempt at ripping her head from her shoulders. The Russians had been in Porto Velho this whole fucking time, and it had gone unnoticed? Unpunished? Was the hotel she was referring to Versailles? It seemed pretty fucking unlikely they’d enlist Russian help to work on PR for the Chelsea fucking Royal… Laurent could feel every ounce of anger he’d felt about that whole cluster fuck—even if his pain had come at the hands of someone else—flood back in an instant. Aurélie had been stabbed. Alessia was dead.

“You stupid fucking cunt.”

The outburst was a solid reminder that Jai was still in the room, because for a minute there, lost in an absolute flood of wrath, Laurent had forgotten he’d existed.

Whilst he was fully expecting this to go his way—to get solid confirmation that it had, indeed, been the Rutherfords who had invited the Russians to London—he had not expected their desperate collusion to go back so far. For it to have been the Russians who had orchestrated the attack on their hotel, and not the British family they had been blaming for years. Fuck, they should’ve known… They might’ve had the money and the influence, but to attack the heads of two powerful crime families so boldly? It was out there. Too fucking out there.

The fucking Russians.

“Do you mean Versailles?”

It was impossible to keep himself from shaking. Laurent had long ago given up the gentle hand against her head for fear of crushing her skull before she could finish.

“She means Empire. The Russians helped us with funding for Empire.”

That particular bluff might’ve landed better if Aurélie didn’t have Amir, the actual fucking investor, wrapped around her little finger.

“The Russians help at Versailles, and the Rutherfords let some of us move to Haringey. It was the deal. I just wanted a fresh start. We just wanted to be anywhere but Launceston…”

“You people will literally say anything to drag us down,” Jai scoffed.

Even though he was gearing up to shout again, Laurent’s hand had already found its way to the cool metal of his gun. It did nothing physically to soothe the fact he felt like he was on fire, but the deafening sound of the point-blank shot—the sight of Jai slumping back as soon as the bullet smashed through his skull—was satisfying in ways he could only hope to relive with Johnathan. Laurent stared at the carcass as though he expected it to speak up again. Get fucking cocky now, you prick. Ivanna was now in fits of sobs so loud he could hardly hear himself think. Still, his hand held firmly onto his weapon, and he wondered whether he should turn around and shove the thing into her noisy fucking mouth.

“Wasn’t he helpful, Ivanna?”

“You said you weren’t going to hurt me…”

The sound of the door opening, Sylvain and Dan bursting through the door to see what was happening a second later, did little to distract him from the woman in front of him.

“I never break a promise.”

Her pathetic relief was the cherry on the top of the dead Jai sundae.

“But that man over there?” Laurent said quietly, lifting a hand to gesture toward the men with a smile. “This is Daniel. Did Aviv ever mention somebody named Daniel to you? Maybe Noa?”

The way that she seemed to freeze in an instant suggested yes. It hadn’t taken a bullet to drain the life from her; just a boyfriend who couldn’t keep his mouth shut, and the couple of brain cells it took to add two and two together.

“Aviv took some things that belonged to Noa. Wedding and engagement rings. He almost took their baby’s life, too, did you know that?”

Laurent had thought her face couldn’t possibly look even worse than it had done post-beating, but as it contorted into the ugliest fucking crying face he’d seen since Sofia Kurylenko, he realised that he’d been wrong. This was definitely worse. Dan could have dibs on the physical suffering, but Laurent was glad to be the one to make her suffer without having to life a fucking finger.

He would enjoy thinking about it for weeks to come.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Ivanna,” he said, standing up straight and slipping his gun back into the holster. “But Dan? I think Dan is probably going to hurt you a lot.”