#i love ivan with my whole chest

[kristsune]

With Inexplicables being public now, I can post my little collection of Ivan's rumbles which always delighted me.

[aakaneeee]

Round 7 was.. definetly intense and I have many thoughts about it, so I did a whole analysis.. yes it's finally here!

Time to start :3 (I will mostly try to make this coherent and chronologically correct, I might fail though! because we know how freaky i can get when it comes to Luka)

without further ado, let's get into it!

tws: drug use, violence, blood, overall quite gore-ish;

I. ROUND 7

Round 7 starts with a low intro, sung first by Till, Luka following. Till has his energy back, or atleast part of it. Luka, as always, has his perfect voice, but he seems to be a little more expressive this time, as if he's enjoying the performance, just like the lyrics suggest. Everything goes seemingly smooth, and they receive holographic instruments that almost seem to parallel eachother: Till, an electric guitar, and Luka, a violin. And yet, as the second pre-chorus emerges, Luka approaches Till, putting his hands around his neck, a cruel reminder of Ivan. He is... dizzy, to say the least, even getting a nosebleed, but he doesn't stop singing until the very end, even though images of the one he's been taunted with appear on the screen behind them. His eyes seem to light up when he sees a familiar figure in the crowd, Mizi, somehow remembering her even with her hair completely different, veiled, and between millions of aliens. He reaches out, and Luka is obviously at least annoyed at this, either mad that his trick didn't work, or that Till destroyed a perfect performance. Even so, it's too late for Till: Right before getting a hold of Mizi's hand, he is shot in the neck, falling down. Mizi is.. devastated. A flashback of them as kids plays, with a xylophone instrumental. Then, the camera cuts back, from a happy, smiling Mizi, to one crying over Till's soon-to-be corpse. In his last moments, she takes his hair out of his face and cups it. He tries to caress her hand, and then his arm falls next to him as the light fades from his eyes, destined to look into the distance forever. The text "LUKA WIN" flashes on the screen, but even the double-winner is too distracted to care, as in a safe distance, yet right in front of him, is an injured Hyuna, crouched forward, without her usual, characteristic confidence. They stare blankly at eachother as the screen shows new text: SPECIAL GUESTS, paired with photos of a grieving Mizi and a shocked, in pain Hyuna. We are shown Luka advancing as the winner, the last one left, supposedly, and everything goes black.

II. LUKA

(I will have a lot to say for the both of them, unsurprisingly, but I feel like Luka is still a little bit in the lead... again. who is surprised)

From the first frames we see him in, his clothes are obviously more revealing that in previous rounds (using plural since we have seen part of his Round 4 outfit in the intro of ROMH), using not only the usual open back, but also a huge v-cut showing his chest, and his hip open, specifically where his branding is. I imagine Heperu would've chosen this to show off that it's his pet. Not only that, but his surgery scars are also shown off. I suppose it might be something to brag about here? Maintaining a pet human is probably already really expensive, so it's a differentiation of class if they also afford to have surgeries? I see it as probable. When he begins singing, we see something new. He's a lot more expressive, and it carries through the whole round. Not only that, but when his first high note reaches, he almost crouches down forward, as if he was struggling with it (even though he had more difficult notes in round 5.) Personally, for me, I don't think he was going to use his 'technique' from the start. Some may argue that it's his usual, but he got the biggest score in Alien Stage history in round 4 (I may be mistaken) against Durian, and Durian had no dead loved one that Luka could've used against... him? (I'm still confused about Durian, Acorn and.. Tortilla.😭) So he's obviously insanely talented and only uses it when he feels a threat. Most of Luka's actions in Round 7 felt risky, unplanned, and decided on the moment, which really is unlike him. This feels, like one of my previous posts say, like he was drugged, just like Till. In his daze, maybe he considered that Till would stop singing, or maybe, not even sing at all, and that he'll have an easy opponent. But no, Till proved strong, and then, it came to the next possible way he could 100% win: disorienting him. A thing others have pointed out.. Luka's fingers are probably very cold, and it mightve reminded Till that Ivan is a corpse now. One of the most cruel frames of an already very cruel series was, atleast for me, shown in this video: Luka holding in his laugh after his 'plan' (since, as i already said, i dont think it was actually planned) works. For me, it's another piece of proof that he wasn't in his right mind, the carefully built facade of his wouldn't have just broken by his own will. But, even though he could swear it worked, Till doesn't stop singing. Sure, he's dizzy, dazed, but he still is singing. Shock only comes again when Till sees Mizi in the crowd, and anger, or atleast annoyance, is easily readable on Luka's face. He even pauses singing, looking at Till reaching out for his God, always unattainable, now in the reach of his fingers, in a position I could describe as hesitant, confused. Even so, he gets a win as Till gets shot in the neck. Unfortunately, he doesn't have time to revel in the victory, as he watches in shock, as 'the love of his life' appears in front of him, yet at a safe distance, injured. They stare at eachother, but it's different, it wasn't a blank gaze like in Round 5, it feels a lot more vulnerable.

I love how we've been shown past Luka's empty shell this round. Seeing him actually expressing himself, seemingly taking immense pleasure, almost in an euphoric, naive way, in the round around him. There is no way he genuinely enjoys it, or would've enjoyed it without.. exterior measures. We've seen him reacting to cameras around him in Sweet Dream. We can only imagine that was his truly 'sober' state. As I said, it's really amazing how we can see a more candid version of him.

III. TILL

From the start, it seems like Till has regained his spirit back. He's definetly more energetic than in Round 6, his hair is slightly messy again. His outfit, just like Luka's, is more revealing, but his branding has always been visible, unlike his opponent's. He is doing surprisingly well, not going down without a fight, maybe not going down at all! (I love being cruel) He's singing his heart out, every lyric he says showing desperation. And even though he was going so well, everything has an end. Because his declining mental state goes even more downhill as Luka acts like the freshly deceased Ivan, who left him with so many questions and dillemas. It feels like everything is crowding up on him, the huge stage feeling like a small box. His nose starts bleeding, and just as he was about to faint... He sees the love of his life, Mizi, in the crowd. She's reaching out to him. She's there to save him. He reaches towards her in happiness... Except he gets shot right before it. Mizi is finally reaching to him, right how he imagined when he felt like dying, after singing in that damned club. But just as you can't touch your own imagination, you can't touch a God.

Mizi is, and always will be unattainable. The moment he tried to touch her, the Universe is against him, once again. When he wanted to approach her, a powerful light engulfed him. When he died, it was back to pitch dark. In the flashback, it's implied that Till tried to escape, or atleast went against the rules, togheter with Mizi. They seem to be very close, as Mizi trusts him enough to hide, and bury her head into him. It feels affectionate, familiar, something Till holds onto, because he probably considers it one of his best memories. But nothing lasts. From a smiling, happy Mizi, it pans to the new her, now crying over Till, who was taking his last breaths. She gently brushes his hair out of his face, her hand holding it. In his last moments, atleast, he got what he wanted: Mizi's gaze on him, only on him, and just as always, he can't say anything to her. He just lightly chuckles, as his eyes lose light, and his arm falls next to him.

IV. IVAN

His intention was to make Till hate him. That's why he kissed him. He wanted to be forgotten. He already thought Till didn't care that much about him, so surely his actions would make him hate him? Wrong. Ivan was never Till's ray of hope. He was aware of it: Till only had eyes for Mizi. And yet, his death wasn't forgettable, like he thought. He used to mock Sua for her plan, saying that she'll only become trauma, and ironically, he did the exact same thing. Till sees Mizi as pure light, a goddess. Yet, he remembers Ivan in a shaky manner, a dark red veil over the flashback of the kiss. Mizi was his hope, and Ivan was his misery. Unfortunately, Ivan didn't realize this, considering himself to not be grief, but rather, nothing for Till. Oh, how wrong he was.

V. HYUNA

I really like the idea that the Patreon gave us. Its good to be confirmed that Hyuna, just like the others, is truly human, and by that I mean, flawed. Maybe I am interpreting it wrong, but from what my brain cooked up, she was.. somewhat willing to sacrifice a life (either Till or Luka) for the sake of humanity. (again, I might be wrong) We see another side to her in Round 7. She grabs Mizi and looks at her in a pleading way. She knows she's asking of her to see another of her friends die. Even so, she thinks it's better. I'm really curious about what she was doing on stage. Did she go after Mizi, because she saw she might've gotten caught again? Maybe.. she thought that Mizi was actually going to get Till, and she wanted to save Luka, too? You can never know.

VI. MIZI

First of all, she is still naive, which is so on brand for her. She went into a rescue mission, alone, with no weapons except for a smoke grenade. She still doesn't know what she has to do, and it's obvious. It seems like she took another route from Hyuna, who came up on the stage, while Mizi mixed with the crowd. Even so, I'm grateful that in his last moments, Mizi let Till rest. It was such an honest scene and I adored it. What I didn't adore was the parallels between her leaning over Tills body in Round 7, and her leaning over Sua's body in Round 1.

VII. PARALLELS

1. Till reaching towards Mizi, both in his hallucinations, and right before his death, where she still remains untouchable.

2. "The dark crimson air embraces us" -> "In your place, there's only blood and cold air left" (Black Sorrow) + "Lost in forever's embrace" (CURE)

3. Mizi leaning over Sua's body (Round 1) and Mizi leaning over Till's body (Round 7)

4. "In a blink gone!", sang by Till, in this, the visuals parallel his Birthday reveal art.

5. Luka raising his hands to his face, parallels Ivan tracing his hands up his microphone (they even have the same timing from what I've seen).

6. Mizi looking at Till from her capsule in Round 2, with Mizi looking at Till through the screen during Round 7.

7. Mizi throwing the grenade and Till breaking Freddie in Round 2.

8. Luka's hands on Till's neck are a 'gentler' version of Ivan choking Till, so aliens wouldn't consider it as violence.

9. Luka and Hyuna looking at eachother in Round 5 and Luka and Hyuna looking at eachother at the end of Round 7.

10. The way Luka pulls Till's lip down reminds me of that one freaky Luka image..

VIII. LYRIC ANALYSIS

Blink Gone works for all characters, in my opinion. Every one of them lost something, in just a blink.

"The clock goes tick-tock, tick-tock" I can only imagine this referring to the fact that Till's life is soon to coming to an end.

Till sings the more pessimistic lyrics, while Luka sings the ones about forgetting what's in the past and enjoying the moment. As much as he could be taunting Till, he is, in a way, also reassuring himself. To forget everything: perhaps Hyuna. Hyunwoo's death. And not only these, but the experiments, surgeries, punishments he's been through. On this specific stage, he feels like he's truly alive.

As I've mentioned before: "The dark crimson air embraces us" -> "In your place, there's only blood and cold air left" (Black Sorrow) + "Lost in forever's embrace" (CURE).

IX. DISPELLING SOME THEORIES.

1. Till's microphone was closed.

Personally, when I first saw this... I was a bit.. yeah... I know this sounds rude, but I was a little bit startled when I saw how many people agreed😭 The light on Till's microphone is a heartbeat tracker, proven to be right by the fact it turned green when he saw Mizi. Even if it was closed, a microphone doesn't make you sound better. He wouldn't have been heard, which he was, so obviously, it wasn't closed.

2. The competition was rigged in Luka's favor.

I dont personally agree with this, especially considering the aliens' nature. They don't care about humans. I don't imagine them wanting the same winner twice. Personally, I find it more like them to rig it in Till's favor. Imagine: he won his first two round by external factors, a rookie, yet a musical genius, defeating a past winner. Doesn't that sound more like something they could market? This is my opinion, but I can't think about them rigging it in Luka's favor. (yes I made a whole rubric just for 2 theories that kind of..somewhat. annoy me)

X. MY THEORIES (This is MOSTLY incoherent)

First of all, I am sure that something BIG will happen next. They said Round 6 is only the half of ALIEN STAGE, so, without counting Sweet Dream, there should be 6 more videos. Minus round 7, five. Hyuna vs Mizi and then whoever wins versus Luka are only two, so there's no way that's everything thats going to happen. I find it really interesting that were going to have 5 videos with only 3 (SUPPOSEDLY) alive characters. I'm not sure about the theory of "they are still alive", since Vivimeng aren't really.. known for that. I'm quite 50/50 on it. I can't believe we went from "only Sua will die" to "Everyone will die"😭 Thats what I call development. Anyways, I'm just as excited as ever for what's next!

XI. CONCLUSION + MY OPINION

Honestly, I ADORED Round 7. It was so beautiful and gorgeous and deep and I simply love it. Im going to sound like a gatekeeper, or rude, but I'm quite dissapointed in the people that genuinely are starting to harass Luka fans, to say they hated Round 7, to hate on Vivimeng for the decision they made, saying that they destroyed it and that there's no satisfactory ending to it now.. MAYBE I'm just lucky and my favourite character is Luka, so I haven't felt the grief of losing my favourite yet, but even if I did, I wouldn't start blaming the AMAZING creators that work so hard. If you're curious, yes, as a Luka fan, I've been told off, I've been told I'm a horrible person, and it's only been 2 days, which is insane to me. There is just so much more about him than "ooh he's a manipulator!" again, I'm gonna sound extremely rude... I love that there are a lot of fans that came during Round 6, but I feel like the people 'leaving' the fandom right now are those same fans. maybe that's just me and I'm just angry at what's happening right now😭

I don't want to offend anyone, these are just my opinions, please take everything I said with a grain of salt!

( @cherry-blossom-sword80 here it is!! tagging some other people I'd like to see this :3 @verdantlights @sotogalmo @rockwgooglyeyes )

[maimingaffairs]

Moonlight & Shadows (aleksander morozova x fem!moon summoner!reader)

READ PART 1 HERE

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is the requested part two to another request i had gotten previously so PLEASE read that first. it’ll make it easier for you to understand this one :) apologies in advance for how long this is… i got very carried away.

requested by: @sloppyzengarden

as always.. PLEASE SEND ME YOUR LOVELY REQUESTS <33

warnings: major character death, spoilers for season 2, canon typical violence, mentions of blood. slightly (?) ooc (?) mal

word count: 17.5k

-

Tendrils of shadow weaved themselves between your glowing fingers and you tapped them, watching as the darkness of the shadows fizzled into a soft silvery shower of tiny sparks.

Your delicate hand was clasped tightly in Aleksander’s much larger, scarred one. A black mark covered the back of his hand where the bone of the stag used to sit, fused into his skin.

With your free hand and his, the two of you absentmindedly messed around with your powers, something the two of you did often. He claimed you should use it often and that’s why he did it, but you suspected it was because he enjoyed watching your light consume his shadows and turn them into silvery, moonlit sparks.

You sat on one of his thighs while your legs were draped across the other and you laid your head down on his shoulder. Every now and then, he’d turn to press a kiss to the side of your face. Despite the situation you were in, the pressures you both were under, you’d never felt so adored.

You pulled back just a bit to look up at his face to admire him. Black scars now decorated his beautiful face and there was a different roughness to him ever since you had found him, emerging from The Fold.

He didn’t like his scars, but to you, they were just another part of the man you loved so dearly. Every part of him was so beautiful to you.

As if sensing your stare, he slowly turned his head downwards and gazed at you through his half-lidded, tired eyes.

“What’re you staring at, little one?” He asked and reached down to run just the tips of his calloused fingers over your cheek.

“Just you. What else?” You answered honestly, and he simply let out a short laugh.

He didn’t respond in any other way, instead deciding to wrap both of his arms around your waist. You laid your hands on his chest and rested your cheek against his collarbone, eyes falling shut slowly. Comfort washed over you like a warm rain and you gathered the lapels of his kefta in your fists, holding yourself as close to him as you possibly could.

Most of your nights ended like this, together. Ever since you had found him, crawling out of The Fold with his nichevo'ya following behind him, he’d held you just a little bit tighter when he got the chance to. He hadn’t allowed you to board the skiff with him and Alina on that fateful day where everything went terribly wrong. He’d instead had Ivan put you to sleep and left you in his tent back at the army encampment. When you woke, you could feel him. All of him. All of his pain, his suffering, and most of all, you could feel the way he was calling for you. You heard it in your mind, and it led you all the way to the edge of The Fold. When he came stumbling out, you ran to him, taking him into your capable arms.

When you promised him forever, you meant just that.

You’d always known there was a darkness within Aleksander. A darkness that was more than just the shadows he controlled.

A darkness that you’d taken in whole and accepted as part of the man you loved.

There was much unspoken between the two of you, much that was unnecessary to speak. He knew you better than you knew yourself, and at this point, you liked to believe that you knew him better than he did.

“You ought to be getting some sleep, my precious Saint.” He whispered and placed a kiss against the side of your head.

“I do not wish to, not yet.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I am comfortable here with you.” You replied and looked up at him. His face was soft, a sight you’d seldom seen before his emergence from The Fold. You felt a twinge of sadness in your stomach and he must have noticed it on your face, because he cupped your face with one hand and leaned down towards you.

“Oh, my love. None of that. Do not pity me. I am alive and I am well. You are mine, I am yours, we will emerge victorious through it all, all is right. All is well.” he cooed in a tone that could’ve convinced you that the sky was green rather than blue.

His warm lips pressed themselves against your temple and he drew you in closer to himself until you were completely covered in him.

“My beautiful Saint of the Moon, sleep now. I will not let go of you.” he promised in that same velvet tone, and it was enough to make you close your eyes.

“But you need your sleep, too, moi soverenyi.” you whispered to him, but you felt his finger tap your lips.

“I will sleep once I know you have comfortably fallen into your very own slumber. As I do every night.” he replied and you nuzzled your face into the side of his chest.

You listened to the shallow beating of his heart underneath your cheek and you focused on the rise and fall of his chest, never wanting to move from the spot you’d taken up residency in for the night. The distant sound of his heart lulled you to sleep, slowly at first, and then your exhaustion came down on you like an avalanche, pulling you down into its clutches.

-

“Do you think perhaps once we find the last amplifier that I could have a bit of it, too?” you asked softly, watching as Aleksander flipped through a leather bound book on the table in front of the two of you.

Vladim, a small Alkemi pushed another book towards Aleksander and he let out a discontented hum.

“But of course, my little moonbeam. Anything you would like shall be yours.” he mumbled distractedly and you heard a snort from the other side of the room. You glanced over at Baghra who sat in her cage, eyeing you with contempt.

“Feeling like a little house kitten yet, Miss y/l/n?” Baghra asked and Aleksander’s head perked up.

“Speak not to my Moon Summoner, woman. Keep your spite to yourself and rot with it, mother.” he said sharply and then as if he had to apologize, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “Do ignore her. She couldn’t possibly understand the capacity of that which I have affection for you.” he murmured and then picked up another book.

“Please. You know little of true affection, Aleksander. You’ll have your fun with your pet and then once the novelty wears off, you’ll want another. Something else to gain.” she said with a sense of pride that made you curl your fingers into fists.

“Last I checked, Baghra, I was not the one collared and chained to a skiff. My presence is entirely voluntary.” you snapped, referring to Alina.

“Voluntary because you choose to show him what tricks you’ve learned. Because you derive your pride and pleasures on making him proud. Proud of the tricks he taught you. You-“

“Enough!” Aleksander yelled and turned towards Baghra, “Bitter hag. Make your assumptions to yourself, for you know little of what you speak.” he snapped and the room fell entirely silent.

His arm wrapped around your middle and he pulled you into his side tightly.

“You can have whatever you like. If you desire The Firebird, then I shall give it to you on a silver platter.” he repeated and then stared down at you, his eyes steely, “A queen deserves that much.”

A warm feeling, much akin to drunkenness, filled your chest as you looked up at Aleksander and he trailed his eyes away from the journal in his hands. He looked down upon your face and then he sighed.

“Stop gazing at me like that. We have things to do today and if I catch your affectionate stare once more, I will want nothing else but to stare back.” He replied and then he set the journal down and clutched your hands in his.

He gave you a soft smile and then he ducked down to place a delicate kiss on your cheekbone.

“My dear girl, would you be so kind as to fetch me the notebook that is in our room?” He asked softly and you looked up at him, giving his hands a soft squeeze.

“Of course. Give me a moment, I’ll be right back.” You promised and he moved in to give you one more peck on the side of your face and you felt your cheeks heat up.

Once he had released your hands and turned back to his work with Vladim, you walked out into the hallway, humming quite contently to yourself.

You rounded the corner to your bedroom when a hand closed itself around your arm. You spun around urgently only to see Genya standing behind you, her lips pursed in a frown.

“Y/n,” she began, speaking in a tone not much louder than a simple breath, “I am hoping you will find it within yourself to help me.”

You gazed into the red headed girl’s eyes and you blinked a couple of times, reaching up to gently lay your hand on her forearm.

“You look ever so frightened, Genya.”

“I need your help-“

“Yes but you are shaking.” You protested, cutting her off.

“That is why I need your help!” She exclaimed and then she leaned her face into her hands, “I did not mean to raise my voice to you, I apologize, y/n.”

You’d never seen her act so skittish before and it struck a chord of worry deep within you.

“Oh, please no. Don’t apologize. Just tell me what you need, darling.” You breathed, trying to be as soft and kind as you could be to the anxiety ridden girl.

“David and I-“ Once again, the girl was cut off by a bloodcurdling scream behind the two of you, and you slowly turned around.

The scream resonated in your bones, it nearly made you shiver with its proximity. You’d heard that kind of scream many times before; someone was in great pain.

Determined footsteps followed just a moment later and they echoed down the hall, coming closer to the two of you.

Genya let go of your arm instantly and she turned the opposite corner and took off in a fast walk, leaving you standing in confusion. Just as you went to walk to your bedroom, another hand caught your arm and you looked up to see Aleksander.

He did not look down at you this time. His face, though stoic, had a burning fury bubbling just underneath the skin, and you could see this through his dark eyes. His jaw was set so tightly you thought he might shatter each and every one of his teeth. You had not been around an angry Aleksander before. Either he displayed his anger elsewhere, or he was just very skilled at keeping it at bay. Whatever the case may have been, the apoplectic glint in his eyes made you frown and you wanted to make yourself very small in that moment.

“My love?” You whispered and reached up to place your hand on top of his as he held your upper arm.

His restraint was impressive. For someone who had eons of rage just beneath the surface, he held your arm so gently that you would have believed him to be much happier if you’d felt his touch without seeing his face.

After just a moment, he tipped his head down towards you and he gave you a very, very tense look.

“I have acquired amplifiers for you and I.” He said simply and then he let his fingers fall away from your arm before he gently brushed past you and strode down the hall.

You wondered where he could have found an amplifier so instantaneously and you turned around and made your way back into the room he had just left.

Vladimi stood at his table with a semi-disgusted look on his face and you stared at him for a moment before you dared to look over at Baghra, who had her hand cradled against her chest. Blood slipped through her fingers at a rapid rate and dribbled onto the floor beneath her. You questioned what had happened and turned to Vladim to ask, though, you wished you hadn’t, because the boy held a dish with one severed finger sitting upon it.

Your mouth fell open and you looked between Vladim and Baghra rapidly before you retreated out of the room, feeling rather sick to your stomach.

-

You hadn’t seen Aleksander all day. Not since he informed you that you now had an amplifier. The thought made you shiver.

You had never been fond of Baghra, in fact, the two of you had a very tumultuous acquaintanceship. She was very well aware of the fact that you stood with her son at all times, completely devoted to him. Just as you were well aware she was completely devoted to his downfall. The two beliefs didn’t match up, and neither did the two of you. That didn’t necessarily mean you wanted her to be dismembered in the name of your own gain.

It wasn’t as if you were angry with Aleksander, though. Truth be told, you were a bit afraid of him at the moment. You had never seen the man angry before. He was smart, he played his cards right, and he was cautious to never show you his anger, his contempt. Perhaps it was because he knew just how terrifying he could be. He didn’t need a gun, he didn’t need weaponry of any kind, he didn’t even need to raise his voice. All Aleksander needed to invoke fear was a simple change in his eyes, and the look in them earlier was enough to send a biting chill down to your very bones. And you weren’t even the subject of his anger.

You finished your ninth slow lap around the grounds of the sanctuary and you rubbed your cold nose a few times, letting out a little sigh. You’d been outside walking for quite some time now, trying to decide what to do next. You wanted to thank Aleksander for the amplifier, but you also wanted to ask him why. You wanted to go inside and sit on his thigh while he pondered by his window, but you didn’t want to see his anger. So you instead went for your tenth circle around the grounds, only getting started before someone cleared their throat near you.

You turned your head to see David walking alongside you now and you gave him a little smile. He didn’t smile back.

“Is there anything I can do for you, David?” You asked, keeping the polite smile on your face as you spoke to him.

“Yes. I need to ask something of you. I would never ask if I wasn’t completely desperate.” He mumbled and then looked away from you.

“Ask.” You instructed, and you were almost surprised with how your tone resembled Aleksander’s.

David must have thought the same thing because his eyes shot towards you and he studied your face for a moment before he shook his head.

“I am… leaving. With Genya. I need you to keep The Darkling… occupied. For the evening. Please, y/n. I know very well of your devotion to him, I know what I risk by asking this of you, but I saw your eyes today, when you realized what he’d done to Baghra. You are afraid of him. So are we. Please, I beg you to let us go. Let us escape. Buy us some time.” He explained, not bothering to hide the desperation in his voice.

You eyed him and pursed your lips. A bit of your own anger began to build and you let out a little scoff.

“Do you realize what you ask of me? You want me to deceive the man who protects me? Who protects you? All of us? David, he saved Genya. He saved you, and all you can do to repay him is run?” You asked incredulously, your eyes narrowing.

“He is no man! He is evil in its truest form. He commands wicked things, horrible things. He inspires nothing a man who saves his people should inspire. He inspires fear! Pure fear!” David protested and then stopped walking, causing you to stop as well.

You looked the Durast up and down in disgust and you clenched your hands into fists.

“You only fear what you don’t understand. Just because you cannot see the beauty in his nature does not mean it isn’t there. You and Genya are ingrates. You should be ashamed of yourselves. He saved you, took you in, gives you purpose and a shelter in a country where Grisha are being hunted every single day-“

“And why are they being hunted now?” David asked sharply, cutting you off.

“Because they fear what they don’t understand!” You exclaimed, “Just as you do! Just as Genya does! My answer is no. I will not aid in your abandonment. If you wish to run, do so at your own risk. I hide nothing from my Darkling.” You hissed, squaring your shoulders as you stared up at David.

The mild-mannered man looked down at you in a sort of disbelief and then he shook his head.

“I cannot have you tell him what we have planned.” He said somberly and reached out for your arm, but you jumped back as quickly as he moved forward.

“I will tell him what I please!” You shrieked and held your hand up threateningly, the silvery light of the moon glowing just beneath your skin, “It would do you well to not try and stop me, David Kostyk.” You warned before you stepped back once more. You stared at him for just a moment longer before you took off back towards the sanctuary, running with intent. You looked back just once to see him running in the opposite direction. Frustration filled your chest and you ran even faster up to the doors. You flung them open once you reached them and dashed inside. It took all the self control you had not to scream Aleksander’s name, and as soon as you came running through the halls, Genya went running past you and you gasped.

You ran down the hall to your bedroom, your footsteps graceless and loud as you stampeded towards the room and you pushed the door open.

Aleksander sat in his chair and when the door flew open, he slowly looked up at you.

If he was angry still, there was no trace of it left on his face and in his eyes. Instead he looked exhausted, pained, regretful.

You let out a loud cry of frustration and you pointed towards the hall, out of breath.

“Genya and David are deserting!” You cried out.

That got his attention and he stood as quickly as you got the words out. He grabbed his cloak from off of the table it laid on and he nodded towards the door.

“Come then.” He commanded simply and he stormed out of the room and you followed behind him, your chest heaving.

He pulled his cloak on as he walked and then reached back to grab your wrist and pull you closer to him.

“How do you know they are deserting?” He asked you as the pair of you made your way outside towards his horse.

“David. He asked me to keep you distracted while he ran with Genya.” You admitted and Aleksander looked down at you with wide eyes.

“Then I suppose we will have to put a stop to that, won’t we?” He asked in a hum.

As soon as you reached his horse, he hoisted you up onto the animal and climbed on behind you and kicked the horse in the side, getting it to move.

You looked out across the clearing before you and you saw Genya’s head bobbing above and beneath the tops of shrubbery and twiggy bushes.

“There.” You said and pointed towards the distance, and Aleksander didn’t waste any time in steering his horse in that same direction.

You placed your hands on top of his gently and you let out a very quiet sigh.

“I am sorry, my love.” You whispered and you could feel him shake his head behind you.

“This is not your doing, I will not have you apologetic for the actions of others.” He replied and simply urged his horse on faster until the only sound you heard was the thundering of the animal’s hooves.

The two of you chased the girl up a few paths until you rounded a corner and he called out for her viciously.

“Stand and answer me!” He shouted determinedly.

Genya was cornered. There was nowhere else for her to run now that she was stuck between some old ruins and you and Aleksander. Your lover threw himself off of the horse and you stayed up on its back, staring down at him as he stalked towards her.

His hood hung over his head ominously, and the ground beneath his feet blackened in little tendrils, all radiating out from him. Genya was shaking like a frightened animal and her eyes darted between you and Aleksander in terror.

Normally, you probably would’ve felt pity for the scared girl, but all you felt in that moment was a white hot twinge of frustration .

How dare she so easily abandon the man who saved her life? The man who wanted nothing but peace for his people.

You stared coldly at the girl and you straightened up your shoulders, your jaw setting sternly.

Aleksander pushed his hood off of his head as he approached the Tailor and he looked around the small clearing.

“What is the meaning of this?” He asked lowly, still approaching Genya, “I rescue you from certain death, yet you abandon me.” His tone was calm, so soft that it was eerie.

She looked up at you as if you might save her from her fate, but you simply watched her as if this was nothing but a show put on for your own entertainment, a silly little attempt at your amusement.

Her face became one of anger and she whipped her head towards Aleksander.

“You used me to satisfy a king. I should be your greatest shame,” she replied, her voice trembling just as hard as she was, “Please,” she began, tears forming in her wide blue eyes, “just let me go.” She wasn’t begging, she wasn’t asking. She was trying to reason with him.

She turned towards you and then she let out a fragment of a gasp.

“And you! Who have you become? You were my friend!” She cried and pointed at you shakily.

You raised an eyebrow and then let out a long sigh. You tucked a fallen strand of hair behind your ear and you shifted on the horse.

“You speak of things you have no possible capacity of knowing.” You replied in an even tone.

“Please, just let me go.” She repeated, eyes still on you as if you were going to speak up on her behalf.

You weren’t.

“I’m afraid not.” Aleksander spoke, and you tore your eyes away from Genya just in time to see one of his nichevo'ya rise up from the ground at his side, “I need you, Genya.” He added, approaching her with small steps, his side half consumed by the cyclonic billowing of shadows that made up his new creatures of nothing.

Genya jammed her hand into her coat and yanked out a gun, and without hesitation, shot into the nichevo'ya. The misshapen humanlike form of shadow moved toward her, followed by Aleksander and she made one last look up at you before the nichevo'ya wrapped itself around her and she let out a gut twisting scream.

You averted your eyes from the scene in front of you and pushed down the little sliver of guilt that prodded at your throat.

She deserved it. She was going to desert you. She betrayed Aleksander, she would have gone straight to Alina.

You closed your eyes and took a few slow breaths before you opened them again and exhaled slowly. You kept your eyes on your hands now as Genya continued to scream and for only a second, you thought you tasted but a lick of the fear that compelled Genya and David.

-

Aleksander was nearly doubled over coughing when you entered your room. You approached him with caution to make sure you didn’t startle him, and you laid your hand gently on his back, passing him a handkerchief from the pocket of your kefta.

He took it from you very gently and held it over his mouth as he continued to cough. After a few moments of this, he straightened up slowly and lowered the handkerchief. He dropped it on the chair he was clutching onto and you didn’t dare look at it, afraid of what you might find.

His eyes found your face and he reached out for you, his hand sliding gently around your neck as he pulled you into his chest.

“I know that look. I’ve told you not to pity me.” He mumbled and tucked your head against his chest. His voice was hoarse and he sounded exhausted, but you let him pull you close nonetheless and wrapped your arms around him tightly.

“Aleksander, I do not pity you. I worry for you. Grisha do not get sick, yet you cough and are burdened with headaches. I have the right to worry. I lo…” you slowly trailed off and let out a small huff. You didn’t let yourself finish, instead, you pressed your face against his kefta and closed your eyes tightly.

Many of the emotional things between you and Aleksander went unspoken, and it had always been this way. You weren’t doubtful that he loved you, just as he wasn’t doubtful that you loved him. Nonetheless, it was a word that fell into the realm of the unspoken.

You never knew why.

Perhaps it was that it had a deeper meaning than just the affection you two held for one another. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to proclaim your love for him in verbal form. But he never did. Not in such a direct way. For you, not telling Aleksander that you loved him was simply because he never did either, but for him, you theorized that it was much deeper. Maybe it was because he didn’t love you- which you didn’t believe for one moment- or maybe it was because the last time he claimed love for someone, they were murdered before his very eyes. Or perhaps it was because the moment he said it aloud, he would give up the very thing that kept him impenetrable to his enemies: he would give up his supposed invincibility.

To his enemies, The Darkling didn’t have weaknesses. He didn’t falter, and he didn’t hesitate.

To most of them at least. It was no secret that you two were close, and Alina knew that much. Though, you didn’t fear Alina. Neither did he.

But you were his weakness, just as he was yours. You admittedly had many more weaknesses than he, your so few years on this earth leaving you with soft spots that had yet to harden. He had the luxury of having those soft spots hidden behind walls and steel and stone.

His hand slid away from your neck and up into your hair as you stood silently in your thoughts, and his fingers curled protectively against your scalp.

“You worry for such trivial things, angel.” He replied quietly.

It wasn’t trivial.

Not to you.

If he didn’t get the third amplifier before Alina did, you knew that his use of merzost freely would poison him until his heart finally did stop for the first time in over five hundred years.

You didn’t say anything more. You just kept your face hidden against his chest and you clung to him, desperate to have him as close to you as possible. Especially tonight. Especially after Genya.

The two of you hadn’t said a word on the matter, and you knew it was because Aleksander knew he’d frightened you, even if you did try to mask it with a replica of the hard facade of his that you coveted so deeply at times.

A knock on the door broke your silence and pulled you away from your wondering thoughts and Aleksander gently pulled your head away from his chest with the grip he had on your hair. He leaned down and pressed one delicate kiss to your lips before he let go of you and cleared his throat.

“Yes?” He called and the door opened briskly.

His unofficial right hand, Fruzsi stepped into the room and she approached the two of you instantly.

“General, Miss y/l/n.” She greeted with reverence.

Aleksander hardly acknowledged her greeting and instead turned his body towards her and let out a quiet wheeze before he spoke.

“The moment Genya is conscious, let’s take her and make sure the others understand what awaits them if they are disloyal.” He instructed and you bit the inside of your cheek. You didn’t want to be part of that.

“With pleasure.” Fruzsi replied obediently and clutched her hands in front of her as she bowed her head just slightly at Aleksander.

He turned back around and faced you now, reaching out to carefully adjust your kefta, straightening it and dusting it off just a bit.

“I’ll admit disappointment,” he began and then he tidied up the collar of your kefta, and though he was fiddling with your clothing, you knew he was speaking to Fruzsi, “I always felt an affinity for her. And David,” he continued before he turned back towards the other girl in the room.

“Morozova’s journal is missing.” She blurted and you stiffened.

The journal was the only thing you all had with the information that was needed to possibly cure Aleksander’s ailment that he’d dragged out of The Fold with himself.

His shoulders stiffened and you reached out to grasp his forearm, and though he didn’t acknowledge you, he was thankful that your hand was on his arm.

Your touch grounded him.

“Vladim believes David took it.” Fruzsi continued on, a look of worry ghosting over her features.

Aleksander didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds and you brushed your thumb soothingly over the sleeve of his kefta, even though you were sure he didn’t feel it through the thick material.

Of course David would take it. The one thing that you needed. The betrayal of Aleksander by two people he claimed to trust sent a stab of sickness up through your stomach.

“And with it, any possibility of understanding my… condition.” he slowly turned towards you, his face colorless. The same anger from earlier boiled just beneath his skin and his eyes seemed to glow with the same fury.

You practically cowered underneath his indignant stare.

His lip curled back just slightly and you let out a shaking breath, your hand tightening around his arm, mouth forming his name.

You had never been one for anger before. It took a great deal to get you to the point of rage, and even then, you kept yourself as calm as you could. You had to. All of your life, you had to. You could tell by the look in your lover’s eyes, that he reached his breaking point. There was no masking his anger now, his mask had fallen, and there was no amount of patience now that could compel him to slip the mask back on.

“Leave.” He hissed over his shoulder at Fruzsi.

The girl glanced worriedly at him and then at you before she bowed her head once more and scurried out of the room.

Aleksander yanked his arm from your grip and you gasped softly.

“Aleksander, my love-“ you began but he held up a hand to silence you.

You fell silent, your heart hammering anxiously against your chest now.

He breathed heavily for a moment before he launched his arms down upon his desk and sent everything atop it flying, a loud, mangled cry leaving his mouth. He turned his back on you and leaned up against the desk as he continued to scream, and you brought your hands up to your mouth, tears gathering in your eyes.

The sound of his yells and the clattering of objects flying off the desk made you jump and you stumbled backwards just a bit, a tiny cry escaping your lips. You held your hands tightly over your mouth and watched him as he lifted a shaking hand and turned it over, staring at the remnants of his and Alina’s shared amplifier.

You watched him in shock and you shook your head, lowering your hands from your mouth.

You knew very well of the tether Aleksander shared with Alina, and you also knew of the dangers that came with it. He loved to have the last word, loved to toy with the girl as if she was a mouse caught by only her tail and he was the cat that held her in place.

“My love, do not call on her, you’ll only grow angrier.” You whispered and stepped towards him.

But he already had.

-

You had barely left your room for a week now. You’d barely found the will to speak along with your desire to not leave the room.

Aleksander knew very well that he had scared you the night the journal was reported missing, and though he didn’t come out and apologize aloud yet, he’d spent a considerable amount of time with his arms around you. He would hold you against his chest and he’d coo sweet little things in your ears and he’d rock you back and forth like he was comforting a baby.

His guilt was eating him alive, perhaps more rapidly than the merzost was.

Tonight in particular pained him more than the others.

You were sat at his desk and stacked his papers carefully after arranging them. He wasn’t angry, he didn’t even mean to stand up so fast and so aggressively, but he rose rapidly from his favored chair and you jumped backwards, eyes wide as you looked up at him.

You stood up quickly and tried to play it off as just getting up, but he’d seen the way you’d flinched.

“Y/n,” he whispered and slowly moved towards you. When he was only a foot away from you, you looked up at him and gave him a watery smile and shook your head.

“No, Aleksander I’m just fine. It’s okay.” You insisted and held your hands out to dismiss whatever he was about to say. You knew the look on his face well. He was stricken.

“You are not fine. You walk on eggshells around me. You have ever since Genya.” He stated and you swallowed nervously, shaking your head in protest.

“I don’t, I promise.” You insisted, your voice getting stuck in your throat nearly at the end.

“What do you call this, then? You jumping at my abrupt movements, your newfound anxiety in my presence. Just seven days ago, I brought you comfort. I know this has to do with her and my outburst and I am sorry that-“

“No! No! Please, Aleksander! You have nothing to apologize for-“

“I am sorry that I allowed myself to act that-“

“Please, no-“ you cut him off again, only to be cut off in return.

“Will you just listen? It was no way for me to behave. Especially in front of you. Because if I don’t have your devotion and your trust then I have nothing.” He said firmly and reached down to cup your face in his hands.

His touch was feather-light and he held your face carefully as if you were thin, breakable glass.

“You have my devotion and all of my trust. It was just… new. Genya has nothing to do with it. I’ve just never seen you so… angry. It startled me.” You admitted in a whisper and Aleksander leaned down to rest his forehead against yours.

“My sweet little angel, I do apologize for startling you. Please know that my anger will never be turned on you, it will never be directed towards you. How could I be angry with you? You stand by me so adamantly and so loyally. That is a wonder. A beautiful wonder. I’ve not known such unconditional devotion.”

“That’s because it’s not only unconditional devotion, Aleksander.” You whispered and closed your eyes, your lips trembling under the weight of the words you wished to speak.

“What else is it, then?”

“I am devoted to you, that is the truth. But I don’t regard you with only devotion, Aleksander. This unconditional devotion you speak of is not devotion at all. It is love.” Your voice broke at the end and a single tear rolled down your cheek, “It is love Aleksander. Unconditional love. And I know you don’t wish to say that aloud, but it’s-“

He cut you off yet again, this time with his lips crashing down upon your own.

You received his kiss with a type of reverence that could only be comparable to the kind you give to a God and you returned his action by kissing him back. His fingers curled into your hair and held your face to his as he kissed you with the same reverence, and you could feel past his apology, past the shared reverence. You felt his sorrow and his fear and his devotion to you, all in his kiss. When he finally pulled back to take in a breath of air, he let out the tiniest cry you had ever heard out of his mouth and he clenched his jaw painfully tight.

“What have you done to me, woman?” He asked breathlessly, squeezing his eyes shut.

You opened your mouth to answer but you never got the chance to, because he spoke again before you could.

“I don’t fear things. I am the one to be feared. But I fear losing you. It rattles me down to my very skeleton. I fear losing you the way I should fear death. Tell me what you’ve done to me. Tell me what curse you’ve put on me to leave me in such a haze. Tell me why you have me on my knees for your love. Oh, I want it. I need it. I crave it. Oh, how I want you. I need you. I crave you. You are the light that belongs to the darkness. The Moon needs the shadows to shine. You were meant for me, just as I was meant for you. And oh, my beautiful saint, how I love you.”

You gasped at his words softly and he nudged his nose against your own, and you didn’t notice that you were crying until he was wiping your cheeks dry with his thumbs.

“When we win, when we get out of this victorious and I rise as King, I will make you my queen. I will have you for life. I will marry you, underneath that pretty willow behind the Little Palace, in the dead of night where we can be surrounded by nothing but shadows and moonlight. Isn’t that what we are? Shadows and moonlight?” His tone was hushed and it was devout, as if he were a prophet reading you his favorite scripture.

You brought your own hands up to Aleksander’s face and you cupped it the same way he cupped yours. You wanted to speak, but you weren’t sure if anything would leave your mouth except for sobs, so you let him continue.

“I fall at your feet, Sankta y/n. You are my very own saint to worship, and I will make sure that one day, you are the one they scrawl into the history books and sacred texts. Sankta y/n, summoner of the Moon. My love, my life. You are the one thing that makes me stronger while simultaneously making me weak.”

“That is love, my dear Aleksander.” You cried and he shushed you with a handful of light kisses over your trembling lips.

“That is love.” He echoed, his lips so close to yours that they brushed your bottom lip when he spoke.

The two of you stood in silence for a long time, and he wiped your tears when they fell and you brushed your thumb over the soft skin underneath his eyes.

Finally, he pulled his face away from yours and he looked down into your eyes with an intensity he’d not looked at you with before.

“I mean it. I will make you my queen and marry you underneath the willow behind the Little Palace. Surrounded and adored by Grisha. We will liberate our people and I will spend eternity by your side. My queen of the Moon, the love of my life.”

You nodded once, a small smile tugging the corners of your lips upwards.

“Eternity sounds nice.”

-

In the days following your heart to heart with your Darkling, Aleksander had a Durast make you a ring infused with his mother’s finger bones. Your very own amplifier. He’d slid the dainty gold ring onto your little finger, too, murmuring the entire time about how he’d get you a prettier ring one day and how this one was just a reminder of his promise to marry you. And then he held up his own hand to show you his own little gold ring, sitting upon his little finger as well.

It was a pretty ring. Really. It was gold and made to look like a willow branch, fashioned after the tree he vowed to marry you underneath. He always was one for symbolism.

You sat and admired the metal on your finger while sitting atop the desk in yours and Aleksander’s shared bedroom. Most of the other Grisha that were usually around were out on a mission, and Aleksander was hiding out somewhere, using the tether to provoke Alina, as he so often did. The sound of metal clattering startled you and you slowly climbed off of the desk and walked to your door. You pushed it open and looked around the hallway. No one was there, and no one should have been there to make something fall, that was for certain. You stepped out of your bedroom and eyed the halls once more suspiciously before you shook your head.

“Hello?” You called out, expecting exactly what you got in return, which was silence. You stepped out further into the hall and you began to slowly walk towards the makeshift laboratory to find Vladim, who had likely stayed behind, not one for the organized attack on the Lantsovs. The sudden sound of glass smashing and things clattering to the floor made you freeze in the middle of the hall and you raised your hands up, the unforgivingly cold light of the moon beginning to light up your hands. The strong electric feeling that came along with your new amplifier travelled up your spine and out towards your fingers, sending a bright surge of light up through them.

Out from around the corner, Baghra and Genya walked towards you in tandem. Baghra looked complacent while on the other hand, Genya looked furious. You hadn’t directly looked at Genya since she’d been maimed by the nichevo'ya, and now that you were looking directly at her, you felt a small bit of pity fill your head.

“Stop right there!” You called at the two of them.

Baghra did. Genya did not. Instead, the Tailor marched towards you and you raised your hand up higher as if you were loading an arrow with one hand.

“Genya, I do not want to use my power on you. Stop where you are, now.” You commanded, standing your ground.

She did not reply, and she did not stop, either, until she was nearly three feet away from you.

“Look at me,” She seethed and pointed at her face, “Look at me and know this is your doing. I never thought you’d lose your compassion. Your kindness. But every single day that passes, you become more and more like your Darkling.” She growled and you shook your head.

“You are a fool, Genya Safin.” You breathed and then lowered your hand just a bit, “You are the only one to blame for your misfortune. And when we find David, you’ll be the only one to blame for his misfortunes, too.” You chided and watched a look of worry cross her face.

“You’ve lost your heart.” She said harshly and then jabbed you in the chest with her finger, “You have allowed The Darkling to rip it from your chest and blacken it. We grew up together, Y/n! We served the Queen together! How could you have just turned your back on me? I needed you!” She shouted and you lowered both of your hands entirely.

“My heart is as bountiful as it needs to be. Blackened or not. You betrayed and abandoned the Darkling, therefore you have betrayed and abandoned me.” You said flatly, gazing at her with the same look you’d give a non-compliant child.

“You love a made up man. He will never love you back. He is using you. The same way he used Alina, you’re just too arrogant to believe that you’re being played with. You are but a piece in his infinite game of power.”

She wanted you to doubt him. But you knew better. You saw sides of him that no one else got to, that no one else needed to.

“Don’t make me maim you further, Genya. You might have to find a strength greater than your beauty if you keep pushing me.” You said coldly.

This had her eyes blazing angrily and she reached for you, grabbing onto the lapels of your kefta.

You brought your hand up to shoot a beam of moonlight through her chest, but you were stopped, something cold and clammy tugging your wrist backwards. You looked up to see a thick tendril of shadow around your wrist and you looked at Baghra who now had her own hands raised. You furrowed your brow angrily as you watched the old woman and you went to raise your other hand, and in the struggle you didn’t even see Genya reach up to grab the side of your head until you felt her fingers in your hair. She swung your head near the wall and you pushed back with all your might, but she kept trying to make contact between your head and the wall. You growled in frustration and tried to fight her off with your free hand, but another shadow wrapped itself around your free wrist, and before you could even protest, your head was being slammed ferociously into the wall, and blackness consumed your vision.

-

You weren’t sure how long you had been unconscious, and furthermore, you weren’t even sure of where you were, because when you woke up, you were behind iron bars on a gravel floor. The room around you was dim, and it looked like it had been carved out from a cave. You went to touch the side of your head that throbbed painfully, only to find that your hands were bound and separated by a beam of wood. You let out a frustrated groan and you slammed the wood between your hands against the bars, but it hardly even dented.

“There is absolutely no point in trying, girl. You are getting a taste of what it’s like to be a prisoner.”

You groaned again and lifted your head to see Baghra walk shakily into the space beyond the bars in front of you.

“Mm, abduction is your thing now?” You asked sardonically as you looked up at the scraggly haired woman. A sharp pain shot through the side of your head where you’d been hit and you winced slightly, your vision blurring just temporarily.

“I wasn’t fond of the idea but sometimes we have to do things we aren’t fond of in the name of what’s right.” She answered with a shrug and she sat down on a stool about six feet away from you, and you loathed how there were bars in your way of tackling the woman to the ground.

“So your grand idea is keeping me locked up? And then what? I’m not the threat you think I am.”

“No, not a threat. More like… bait. But I wouldn’t expect you to recognize when you’re being used. You haven’t thus far, why start now?” Baghra droned and your lips twitched angrily.

“Your plan is listless. Aleksander will tear you and anyone else apart to ensure my safe return.”

“You overestimate your importance to my son.”

“On the contrary. I think I underestimate it at times.”

The two of you were locked in an intense stare for a long time before she finally waved her hand dismissively.

“Well, only time can tell.” She conceded and slowly stood up. She didn’t say another word as she exited the room, and you didn’t care to speak either, so instead you watched as she left, sneering in her wake.

You were unsure of how long you sat in silence in that dim little room, but it surely had been a few hours before you heard gravel crunching underneath a pair of footsteps. You looked up spitefully to see Alina standing across the room with a deep frown on her lips, and at her side was unmistakably her little orphan friend, Mal. You eyed the two of them contemptuously and said nothing as Alina approached you. Instead of using the stool Baghra sat upon, the girl knelt in front of the bars and she placed her hands against them, a sadness pooling within her eyes.

“I remember when you saved my life. I’ve always so admired you for that.” She said quietly, wrapping her fingers around the shabby iron bars between the two of you.

You didn’t say anything in return. Instead, you shifted your gaze to the wall adjacent to you and you shook your head once.

“Y/n, I know this is hard to hear, it was for me as well, but you are being used. You are being manipulated. You’re stronger than this, look at you. You harness the power of the moon. Our powers are supposed to work in tandem. We are supposed to work in tandem. Please don’t let your potential be reduced to just another thing Kirigan desecrates and throws aside.” Alina whispered and reached through the bars to touch your arm.

You shied away from her fingers and you looked up at her, staring her down as if she were as maimed as Genya.

“It’s okay to be scared. But I really need you to trust me.” She added and pulled her arm back to her side.

“How long have I been here?” You asked her, looking down at your sore wrists. Surely they were raw by now.

“Almost a week. We had to keep you unconscious until we were sure you were securely… locked up.” She said with a frown.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, laying your bound hands out across your thighs.

“This is ridiculous. You are begging for a death sentence.” You mumbled.

“Right. And so are you and The Darkling. Trust me when I say, we will deliver.” Mal snapped, and it was the first time you’d heard him speak. You eyed the tall, dark haired boy and your lips curled upwards into a little smirk.

“Try, otkazat'sya.” You challenged and you watched Mal’s face darken as he took a step forward.

“She’s hopeless, Alina. He’s fried her head. Whatever friend you knew now belongs to Kirigan. Just do as the old woman says and get her out so we can get going. She won’t help us willingly so she can follow us as our leverage.” Mal remarked stuffily and he crossed his arms over his chest, his dark eyes raking over you in disdain.

“And just where do you think I’ll be following you?” You asked rigidly, looking to Alina this time.

She hesitated in answering, her eyes shifting down to the gravel floor. You could tell she didn’t want to be in this mess, and neither did you. However, you’d be more inclined to be kind to her if her main objective wasn’t to kill your lover.

“We are going to find Morozova’s workshop, and you are coming with us. We hoped as an ally, but Baghra warned us that you might not be so interested in being an ally.”

“Ah. Well, I’ll have to politely decline. I will not be going with you.” You drawled and dug your heels into the gravel beneath your feet.

“You don’t really get a say in the matter.” Mal snapped and you looked up at him through narrowed eyes.

“You sure talk bravely for someone so mortal.” You replied and he took another step forward and raised his thick brows.

“And you sure act like you’re important enough for Kirigan to smite me over so perhaps we are both wrong.” he replied and you watched as Alina reached up and placed a hand on his leg to silence him.

She gave him a sad look and then shook her head a few times.

“Mal.” She warned and then nodded back at you, “She’s not the enemy.”

But you were… weren’t you?

It was probably best for them to keep believing you weren’t, though. Keep yourself unassuming and secure feeling.

You glanced down at your hand and almost let out a breath of relief when you saw your ring still sitting around your finger. The only explanation you had was that they didn’t know it was your amplifier, and if that was the case, you had to keep it that way.

To keep yourself unassuming, indeed.

-

The next few days were uneventful. You had spent most of your time on a horse, your hands still held apart. Your entire body was stiff and at the end of the day when you were allowed off of the horse, walking was a daunting task all on its own.

Hardly anyone said anything important around you, and the journey was quiet and awkward. However, the night before last- the first night of your journey- you had heard Alina speaking to Mal and Baghra when they believed you to be asleep. It wasn’t of much importance, but she did say that Aleksander had been the most unstable she’d ever seen him the last time she reached out to him through the tether. Baghra had assured her that they were not going to be stopped by him, but Alina seemed on edge and quietly tried to suggest leaving you behind to find your way back to him.

That was the night you had started trying to create your own tether with Aleksander. It’s mostly all you had put your energy into for the last few days, desperate to hear his voice at the very least. You weren’t afraid that anyone was going to hurt you. Alina wouldn’t in spite of her big heart, Baghra wouldn’t because you knew deep down she knew you cared fiercely for her son, and Mal… you weren’t sure about. But he didn’t scare you. If anything, he just vexed you beyond all reason.

The two others led their horses on foot while Mal was pulling the one you were on. He hadn’t so much as looked at you once that day. Bitter little orphan.

“You know, if you spent even half as much time smiling as you did brooding and being a grump, you might actually start to have the inkling of a personality.” You remarked down at the boy. At first you thought he was going to ignore you some more, but you watched in surprise as he shook his head.

“I’ll take brooding and grumpy over being The Darkling’s zealot, time and time again.” He replied, not looking over his shoulder at you once.

You rolled your eyes and wished you could kick him in the back, and you willed him to come a little closer to the horse so that you could. But he never did, much to your disappointment.

“I believe my feelings for him to be no different than your own for Alina. I mean, we’re both putting our trust and loyalty into something otherworldly. The only difference is, this side of the world has never scared me as it has you.” You remarked, feeling a sense of accomplishment when you watched his fist tighten on the reins.

He said nothing for a while, the only sound now was Baghra and Alina chatting ahead and the sound of twigs and gravel crunching underneath your horse’s hooves. You didn’t expect him to speak again, so you closed your eyes and prepared yourself to connect with Aleksander once again.

Mal’s voice stopped you.

“At the risk of feeding into your delusion, I believe that we are entirely different. Look, I know you aren’t a bad person. His crimes aren’t on your hands, Alina tells me of your kindness when she came to the palace. How could you have betrayed her after saving her life?”

“I didn’t betray Alina. I simply chose my side, just as she chose hers. That doesn’t… I don’t have to justify myself to you, boy. You know as well as I do that when you care deeply for someone, a lot of things such as reason or morality tend to fade into grey little lines that are easily blurred.” You remarked.

This time he really didn’t answer. And you were fine with that.

You closed your eyes again and went back into your mind, doing everything you could to find a way to Aleksander. You almost groaned with frustration nearly half an hour later when nothing had happened.

You both had Baghra’s bones as an amplifier. You both wore the same thin gold rings on your littlest fingers. Surely that had to be enough.

It didn’t seem as if it was, though.

You wanted to reach for your ring, but the bar between your hands stopped you and you frowned and clenched your fists tightly, balling them up against your thighs. You took a deep breath and decided to try again.

You closed your eyes slowly and focused on the band around your pinky finger. You focused on how it was cold, how the patterns on it pressed against the side of your ring finger. You felt a small buzz at the very back of your mind and you grit your teeth and chased it, breathing heavily. You focused on him. The thought of him, the feeling of his hand against yours, the sound of his voice, and the starless black glittering of his eyes. The blankness behind your eyes began to shift into something blurry and misshapen. It focused and refocused hundreds of times before the picture in your mind became the blurry from your shared bedroom.

Your stomach filled with warm anticipation and you took a long, deep breath and willed yourself into the room. The second you moved forward into the room, it was as if everything around you changed. You could no longer feel your sore body nor could you feel the horse beneath you. The air felt warm and soothing against your cheeks, and it was a different feeling than the chilly air that had been biting at your face for the past few days. Your steps were soundless as you moved further into the room and your eyes fell on Aleksander as he stood by his window. His hands were gripping the windowsill so tightly that the skin over his knuckles was pulled taut and colored white. His hands shook underneath the intense pressure of which he held the windowsill with and you didn’t have to see his face to know his jaw was clenched.

You spoke his name, but the sound seemed to get lost, because you didn’t hear it, and he didn’t seem to either. You felt a twinge of disappointment and you took a long breath and refocused completely on him, speaking his name again.

This time, you could hear it. It sounded like a faint, distorted echo. One that he still couldn’t seem to hear.

You clenched your fists as tightly as you could and you focused on the ring on your finger, on the man in front of you, on the very emotional connection you two shared, and you finally spoke his name one more time.

Your voice was fully audible to your own ears now, and you had definitely gotten his attention, because he spun around from the window and his eyes fixed themselves on you. There was a vast collection of emotions that flickered through his eyes, ranging from surprise, to relief, worry, anger, and then finally something else that you couldn’t name at first but you eventually came to recognize it as guilt and sadness.

“Y/n.” He breathed and strode towards you determinedly. He reached out to pull you towards him, but his hand only went right through you.

It took him just a moment to recover from the confused look that painted itself over his face, but when he did, his eyes flooded with realization.

“You aren’t here. Not really.” He whispered sadly, his big, dark eyes glossing over with a layer of unshed tears.

“No. But I’ve been trying to reach out to you this way for days, and I haven’t been able to. This is the first time it’s worked!” You exclaimed excitedly and then you smiled up at him.

He did his best to give you a proud smile, but you could see there was a heavy sorrow lingering in his eyes.

“Oh, you’re such an intelligent girl. So gifted.” He said softly.

You wanted to touch him. You wanted him to take you in his arms. You missed him.

“Aleksander, I don’t like being away from you.” You whispered and you watched him shatter before you with those words.

He closed his eyes and reached up to rub them with the sides of his hands and he let out a slow sigh.

“My darling, where are you? I will find you and I will bring you home. I will kill anyone who stands in my way; anyone who tries to stop me.” His face was almost pained and you frowned.

“I don’t know where we are. I just know we have set out to find Morozova’s workshop.” You stated.

Exhaustion started to seep into your head and you were finding it hard to keep the connection going. You knew you were not as powerful as Alina and Aleksander, and this was taking almost all of the energy and power you had, and it didn’t help that you couldn’t even use your hands.

“We? Who is we? Who is with you?” He asked sharply and he leaned closer to you. His eyes studied your face and he frowned, “Angel, you look so tired. You need your rest, this must be taking so much out of you.” He whispered and you shook your head.

You struggled to piece your thoughts together so that you could answer him, but eventually you pushed through and were able to elaborate.

“We… Alina, Mal, Baghra.” You mumbled.

He gave you a little nod and then he frowned even more. He looked as if your struggle pained him.

And it did.

Seeing you this way pained him more than he cared to admit, and the week without you had been one of the hardest of his entire life. It was as if he could feel every single second passing. All he could do is hope that his Grisha would find you, hope that you were safe, and then fantasize about how he would enact painful revenge on anyone who dared lay their hands on you. He would have his revenge on those who took you away from him.

“Darling, stop trying to keep the connection going. You’ve done so much already, and I am so proud of you. Seeing that you are unharmed is the greatest relief to me at this moment. Rest now, don’t exhaust yourself. I will find you, everything is going to be alright. Do you trust me?” He asked softly and gazed down upon your face.

You gave him a nod and he gave you a watery smile in return.

“Sweet little girl, you have made me so proud today. I love you. Know that I will find you. I swear it.” He vowed in a whisper and you looked into his eyes one last time before you felt the connection slip.

It was like a rope, pulled in two different directions being cut in the middle. Your eyes snapped open instantly and you gasped, nearly falling off of the horse. You steadied yourself quickly and you had to readjust to the brightness of the outdoors. You blinked a few times and looked around to see that you had stopped moving, and Mal was staring up at you, along with Baghra and Alina.

Alina looked a bit paler and she turned to Baghra with a worried expression.

“I knew this was not a good idea, Baghra. I-“

Baghra cut her off with a wave of her hand and she eyed you contemptuously, her beady eyes fixing themselves on you in an accusatory way.

“You, too, can connect with my son it seems.”

You didn’t respond, instead you jutted your chin out as if you were an indignant child and you looked away from them, gazing off over to your left.

“Foolish girl. You think he’s going to save you? He won’t give himself up, even for you.” Baghra said haughtily and you shook your head once, not saying anything.

“Look, we need to get inside.” Mal stated and then looked up at you, “But she can’t come. If she’s able to speak with Kirigan then she can’t be anywhere near whatever is in there. Then whatever we find out, so does he.”

You snorted and looked back over at the three of them.

“What was the point in bringing me, then? This was easily a three person job. I think, Baghra, that deep down, you did expect Aleksander to come for me. You wanted to isolate him from his Grisha out in the middle of nowhere, then you would’ve had your chance to stop him. But now that he hasn’t come, you are flailing.” You theorized and then you shook your head with contempt.

No one said anything for a long time. You knew you were right. They knew you were right. No one wanted to speak. Baghra didn’t want to admit her idea had been a farce, Alina was anxious, and perhaps Mal just had nothing to say.

But as usual, the boy finally did find something to say.

“Get down.” He commanded and you held your hands up and shook them a few times.

“Can’t really dismount a horse on my own without my hands.” You said in a bored tone, and Mal scoffed in annoyance, but his irritation didn’t stop him from reaching up and grabbing your waist. He easily lifted you off of the horse, and instead of setting you on your feet, he gingerly dropped you before making sure you were steady.

You fell onto your knees in the fallen leaves and the dirt and you winced. You didn’t have even a moment to recover and stand before Mal grabbed you by your upper arms and dragged you to a tree next to a large rock. He pushed your side up against the tree and you yelped, the rough bark biting into your cheek.

“Give me the rope.” He instructed and Alina hesitated for a moment before she reluctantly untied one of the ropes from one of the horses and brought it over to Mal.

You looked up at the tall, lanky boy and you shook your head.

“Just let me go. You don’t need me, I don’t need any of you. Please.” You said exasperatedly and he gave you a hard look before he pushed you down onto your knees. Your knee collided with one of the tree’s protruding roots and you groaned quietly, leaning your head up against the side of the tree.

Mal looped the end of the rope up underneath one of your shackles and knotted it many times before he tied the other end around the slender tree. He gave the rope a hard tug and when it didn’t budge, he stepped back and looked down at you with disgust.

You mirrored his expression to a T and then sneered.

Your eyes wandered past him and you looked at what seemed to be large rock formation on the side of a hill, but upon closer examination, there was a door. It was much like the stone doors you’d find at a tomb, and there were branches and vines shrouding the entryway. Small stone steps led up to the door and your three delightful travel companions slowly turned away from you and walked towards the workshop.

You looked down at your raw wrists and you gave the rope a few sharp little tugs before you let out a grunt and leaned your back up against the tree. You needed Aleksander. You needed to speak to him again. If only you weren’t so damn exhausted.

Your entire body ached and you could hear Baghra speaking faintly behind you. You closed your eyes as tightly as you could and tried to muster enough energy to connect with your lover once again.

You couldn’t.

You opened your eyes after a while and realized that you couldn’t hear anyone any longer, and you turned to look over your shoulder to see that Mal, Alina, and Baghra had disappeared. Likely into the workshop. You scooted over in the dirt and leaves until you were up against the rock and you laid your arms down on top of it and laid your head against your arms as if you were laying your head upon a desk. You stretched your hand out a bit and then felt something sharp catch your palm.

“Ouch!” You hissed and sat up. You glanced down at a rather sharp edge on the rock and then looked down at your now bleeding palm that had been sliced open. You slowly turned your head back towards the sharp, serrated edge of the rock and then you glanced at your shackles. You quickly rose up on your knees and leaned over the side of the rock and brought the middle of the wooden beam down on the sharp edge of the rock. You pushed down against it with all of your might and began to drag it back and forth rapidly, trying to saw through the wood. After a few grueling moments of this, you stopped and let out a little whimper.

Your wrists were raw and sore against their metal shackles and your arms ached terribly. But you had made some progress. The rock had indeed began to cut into the wood and there was a small split in the wooden beam, about one quarter of an inch deep. Staring at the split in the wood filled you with determination and you brought the beam back down on the edge of the rock and continued to drag it back and forth as hard and as fast as you could. Your wrists protested with every movement, but you didn’t stop.

You had almost gotten past cutting halfway through the beam when the scraping of stone stopped you. You quickly scrambled back down on the ground as if you were sitting there the entire time and you stayed still and silent. After a moment, you turned to see Mal and Baghra standing in front of the workshop. Baghra passed Mal a blade and you tried to make out what they were saying but couldn’t hear anything more than their faint vocal tones. You watched as Baghra cut Mal on his hand and he slowly turned and pressed his hand against the stone door, which slid shut. Mal jumped back, startled, and he slowly stepped away from Baghra and the door, looking frantic.

You turned your attention away from the two of them and instead looked back at the wooden beam that held your hands apart. You pursed your lips and you put the beam over your knee and tried to snap it, pulling your wrists down as hard as you could before you let out a shriek and stopped immediately, your wrists now bleeding from all of the friction against your raw skin.

You heard Alina cry out from inside the workshop and you turned to watch Mal dash inside. Baghra didn’t follow. Instead she came towards you hurriedly. She used the blade in her hands to cut the rope off of the tree and she grabbed your arm.

“Come with me, girl.” She said flatly and pulled you to your feet.

You complied silently and glanced at the severance in the wooden beam. All you had to do was wait for the right moment. You followed Baghra inside of the workshop and the two of you joined Mal in the doorway to one of the rooms.

Mal went to run for Alina, but with the hand she didn’t have on you, Baghra grabbed onto Mal with and she shook her head.

“Don’t break the connection!” She commanded.

“You said she’s not strong enough to face him!” Mal protested.

You looked past Mal to see Alina surrounded by an electric blue light and you widened your eyes. Aleksander was here.

“Exactly.” Baghra said to Mal calmly and stepped in front of him, leaving you behind.

You eyed Baghra warily as she grabbed a torch off of the wall and walked towards Alina, who was struggling against the wall, held there by the telepathic presence of Aleksander.

“I will end this once and for all. Once I’ve killed my son, my time here is done.” Baghra said sternly and tossed the torch into a bin of scrolls, “All this goes with me.” She finished and you let out a wail.

“You’re heartless!” You cried out, realizing what she was about to attempt to do, “He is your son, Baghra!” You screamed and tried to run at her, but Mal stopped you and pushed you down to the floor, where you landed in a graceless heap of limbs.

“You know what you have to do. And close the door on your way out.” Baghra said to Mal as the room began to go up in flames, “And leave the Moon Summoner here with me.”

Baghra approached Alina and you slowly sat up and turned to the shackles on your wrists. You had to break out of them, there was no question about it now. You began to slam the split in the wood against the rock walls and you let out a scream that was born of pain and determination.

Alina dashed past you, and you assumed Baghra had freed her from Aleksander, and Mal was now dragging her out of the workshop, trying to convince her to leave Baghra behind. The old woman now stood at the far side of the room in a trance, her head tipped upwards in focus.

“The Firebird!” Alina said in a panic and jumped towards the burning table.

“I know where the Firebird is!” Mal shouted, “We have to go!” He said and yanked her towards the door.

“No! Y/n, Mal we can’t leave her!” She cried and you looked up at Alina who was standing a few yards away from you, trying to break free of Mal’s grasp.

“Alina, cut your losses. She is not your friend, we need to go!”

You eyed her sadly and you let out a little sniffle, looking up at her. The room grew hotter as the flames grew closer to you and you shook your head once, looking down at the floor.

“Mal, she’s innocent, please!”

But her begging was futile, because Mal only gave you one last look, a cocky little sneer, and then yanked Alina from the workshop.

You heard the scraping of stone and knew that the door had been closed.

You cried out in frustration, tears pooling in your eyes and you banged the wooden beam against the wall, even harder now. You didn’t realize you were screaming until your throat felt hoarse and you coughed, smoke filling your lungs.

This couldn’t be how you died. You refused. But your body had different plans. Exhaustion washed over you, trying to pull you into its sea. You were so tired. Everything hurt. You were almost tempted to lay down and let the warm flames consume you until you remembered Baghra. She was aiming to kill Aleksander.

With one final burst of determined energy, you slammed the beam down on the jagged edge of the wall a few more times before you heard a snap. You looked down at your hands to find them separated. Still shackled, but separated.

Quickly, you scrambled upwards with a burst of adrenaline just in time to see Baghra collapse. She turned her head slowly and her eyes met yours, blood dribbling from the corner of her lips.

“Stupid girl. Though it will never be enough, thank you for loving my stupid boy.” She murmured, and you could hardly hear her over the roar of the fire.

You looked down at her in disgust and you shook your head.

“One of us had to.” You spat and then you brought your right hand up to your lips. You placed a little kiss on the gold ring upon your little finger and then you let out an ear shattering yell, bringing your hands together in a sharp clap that resonated even louder than the fire.

Silver light flooded the entire workshop and turned each flame into a blazing beam of the moon. You held your hands together and squinted to see, but within seconds, there was nothing but bright, bright light and then an earth shaking crash.

You fell to your knees dizzily, unsure of what just happened and your eyes rolled backwards into your head as you slumped sideways and finally let your exhaustion drag you away from the present.

-

There was a loud ringing in your ears, and you could feel a cool breeze dusting across your cheeks. Your throat was dry and your tongue was like sandpaper against the top of your mouth. You willed yourself to open your eyes and you stared straight up at the grey sky above you.

Your body was sore everywhere, but you couldn’t ignore the tingling, electric sensation that coursed through your veins. You weakly pushed yourself up and felt rubble tumble off of your chest as you did. The workshop laid in ruins around you and there were still little traces of silvery light, fizzling out slowly like smothered flames. You took in the ruin around you and you blinked a few times.

You did this. You had destroyed this entire cavelike workshop. You would’ve been a bit more giddy if you weren’t covered in bleeding cuts and sensitive bruises. A strange sense of pride swelled in your chest and you very slowly hoisted yourself up with a grunt, grabbing onto a fragment that remained of the wall to steady yourself. You looked around the mess slowly and your eyes settled on a hand that protruded out from underneath a pile of stone.

Baghra.

You stared down at her for a long time and then finally you tore your eyes away from her rock burial.

If she was dead, it could mean two things. Aleksander’s mother had killed him, or he had killed his mother.

With a grunt, you walked away from the ruins of the workshop and approached the nearest tree. You leaned heavily up against it and took a few long, deep breaths before you closed your eyes and reached up awkwardly to hold onto your ring with your opposite hand.

It was much easier this time to establish a connection with Aleksander, you simply pictured him in your mind and let your power do the rest. When you opened your eyes, you stood behind him in what appeared to be a tent. He was hunched over on his knees and seemed to be in pain, but you couldn’t deny the relief you felt to know that he was alive.

“Aleksander.” You breathed.

You knew he had heard you by the way his head perked up a bit, but he didn’t turn towards you.

“Sweet Moon Saint. Are you really there or have you come back through my head?” He asked in a low, ragged tone.

“I’m not there. Not yet. I just had to know if you were alive.” You said quietly and watched as his shoulders rolled back a bit. He never did turn around, though.

“Mm, alive, yes. I was very worried about you. My mother told me you were going to die for my sins. It seems ironic to me that now she’s the only one that’s perished for them.” He said in a deadpan.

“My love, where can I find you?” You asked softly and he let out a sigh.

“You sound terrible. You sound tired. You sound hoarse. What have they done to you?” He asked, hanging his head.

“I am fine, Aleksander. Please, I need to come to you. Tell me where you are.” You pleaded and he very slowly turned his head toward you.

“Keramzin. You’ll find my encampment. Please, please my love, do not leave me alone on this earth. Fight tooth and nail if you must, but return to me. You must return to me.”

“I will.” You promised.

Always.

-

The journey to Keramzin had been a brief one, and you were thankful for that. You weren’t sure how your body hadn’t given out, but after hobbling through the mountains for nearly a day, you came across a little farm and stole a horse from its stables.

After that, it was a straight shot. You made it to Keramzin in only six days and it was easy to locate Aleksander’s camp. You slowly rode up on your horse towards the camp, and two large Heartrenders ran towards you to stop you before recognition crossed their faces. They both bowed their heads to you and whispered your name.

Sankta Y/n.

Your hair was in tangles and your face was polluted with dried blood and dirt and your kefta and dress were torn and caked with mud. You looked terrible.

But you also looked formidable.

Perched high upon your horse, broken shackles still around your wrists, wounded, but sitting straight with your shoulders squared nonetheless.

“Take me to The General.” You commanded and slid off of the horse, landing on your feet, a painful shock going through your entire body as you hit the ground.

You followed the two Heartrenders through the field and around a handful of tents before you saw him. His back was turned to you and he stood at the precipice of a dead little meadow, and across from this meadow was a shabby home. Likely an orphanage or an inn, you reasoned. Fruzsi stood a few paces behind him, and as you approached, she turned around and let out a gasp. Your eyes met hers and she bowed her head immediately.

“You’ve returned.” She said softly, relief evident in her tone.

“I always will.” You said gauntly and then stepped past her.

You continued on towards Aleksander, and when you reached him, you slid your hands around his arm and fastened yourself to his side before you completely leaned against him, your legs giving out.

He didn’t even need to look at you, he recognized your touch the second you grabbed his arm. He turned towards you and in one swift movement, hooked an arm underneath your knees and lifted you off of the ground and into his arms.

Silently, you wrapped your arms around his neck and tucked your face in the spot between his shoulder and his throat, breathing in his scent. He wordlessly tightened his grip on you and he buried his face in your hair. The two of you stayed like that for a very long time, silent. The only sounds between the two of you were sighs, sharp inhales, and exhales.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Aleksander moved his face away from your hair and he gazed down at you as you laid in his arms, weary.

“I love you.” He whispered, dipping his head down so that he was close to your face.

You turned your head so that you could look up at him properly and you leaned up to nudge your nose against his.

“Aleksander.” You whimpered and he nodded once.

“I know. Never again. You will never be away from my side again.” He promised and you gave him a little nod, your eyelids growing heavy.

He watched as you fought to stay awake in his arms and he turned towards the crowd of his Grisha. He glanced at Fruzsi and then he jerked his head towards his tent, “Draw the Moon Summoner a bath immediately. Have an Inferni heat it. Get me a Durast so we can get these dreadful things off of her wrists. Waste no time, she is in pain.” He ordered and Fruzsi ran off in a frenzy.

Within only half an hour, you already had a Durast remove the shackles from your wrists safely and you now sat in a deep metal bathtub, filled with hot water. Aleksander knelt by the side of the tub and kept his eyes on you the entire time you laid in the water. You looked over at him and he reached up towards you slowly to tuck a piece of damp hair behind your ear.

“Aleksander, what did your mother do? When she claimed she was going to kill you.” You asked quietly.

He sucked in a deep breath for a long time before he blew it out and then he gave you a very small, very sad smile.

“She told me she was going to burn you alive, then she… permanently severed the connection between Alina and I.” He answered and then held up his right hand.

It was deep grey and glinted metallically in the low light of his tent. You stared at it for a moment before you looked up at him, a little frown tugging your lips downwards.

“I should have stopped her, Aleksander, I’m so sorry-“

“Do not. No. You will not apologize. You couldn’t have done anything. Judging from your state now and even when you called on me the second time, you were in no condition to stop her. I am simply grateful that you are alive and you have returned to me.” He explained in a soft voice and you reached out of the tub to gently take his new hand in your own.

You intertwined your fingers with his and you closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the edge of the metal tub. He allowed you to hold his hand for only a few minutes before he pulled away from you and stood up. You opened your eyes and looked up at him as he shed his kefta and a few other layers until he was only in his base shirt, a loose fitting black shirt made of silk. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and he knelt back down next to you and he held his hand out to you and nodded towards it.

“Hand me the cloth, my dear.” He instructed softly and you reached down into the water to search for the cloth that had been in the tub with you. You found it a moment later and then brought it out of the water, wringing the excess water out of it, and you dropped it in his hand.

He made a pleased humming sound and he grabbed your arm and lifted it up towards him. With a touch as soft and light as the silk of his shirt, he began to clean your skin with the cloth.

You watched his scarred face as he bathed you, and the sight broke your heart in the best way. He looked so serene and so peaceful, making his features softer and you swore you had caught a glimpse of boyish innocence in the sincerity on his face. The world had been so cruel to him for five centuries, and despite it all, he’d allowed himself to love you; allowed you to love him.

Your eyes glittered with tears and they began to fall freely down your cheeks while you watched him wash your arms and your legs, being especially tender with the places that had little bruises or scrapes. His touches were usually selfish, driven by his own need to have you close to him, but as he touched you now, there was nothing but selflessness behind his actions. When he moved up with the intent to clean your face, your tears made his face fall as he shook his head.

“As beautifully as you cry, I have half a mind to let you continue, however, the sight breaks my heart. What pains you?” He asked softly and reached up with the cloth to very carefully wipe at your face.

“It is not pain. You are my greatest accomplishment.” You whispered and leaned into his hand as he wiped your cheek, “You are the best thing that I will have ever known in this life.” You added, your lips trembling as you forced them up into a smile.

He stilled his movement and he looked down into your eyes and simply shook his head before he went back to washing you. Once he had finished cleaning you up and washing your hair, he stood up and rolled his sleeves back down. He pulled all of his shed clothes back on, along with his kefta and he grabbed a large, thick towel off of the table he stood near. He came back to the tub and held it open, looking down at you.

“Can you stand, darling?” He asked softly and you nodded. You grabbed the edges of the tub and very slowly pulled yourself up.

Before you could even step out of the tub, Aleksander wrapped the towel around your upper body and lifted you out of the water. Your bare legs broke out in goosebumps and you held onto his shoulders as he carried you to his bed. Once he sat you down, he readjusted the towel around your body and he knelt in front of you.

“You claim I am your greatest accomplishment. The best thing you’ll know. But you are mine. My greatest accomplishment, the best thing I’ll ever know. My peace. My sweet peace in the middle of the turmoil and chaos that is my long life. You are the truest kindness I’ve ever been shown, and whatever sent you to me knows I don’t deserve you, but Saints, I will try everyday.” He murmured and laid his head down against your thighs as he knelt before you.

You reached up and threaded your fingers through his hair and stroked it gently.

You looked down at him as he laid on your thighs and your chest ached with adoration for the man that was before you. No one else mattered anymore, how could they?

Alina had told you that you and her were meant to operate in tandem, but the sunlight is no place for the moon, and moonlight has no business with the sun.

No, you and the Sun Summoner had no business working alongside one another, because Aleksander had been right when he said that the moon needs the darkness to shine.

Moonlight needs shadows.

-

In all your life, you’d never imagined your death.

You’d never felt as if you’d die.

But you probably wouldn’t ever have imagined it would happen this way.

You stood by Aleksander’s side in the middle of The Fold. Alina and Mal had created a bubble around them, keeping the volcra out. Keeping the darkness out. Your hand was tightly closed around Aleksander’s and you held a bright beam of moonlight in your other hand, eyes fixed on Mal and Alina.

It all had happened so fast.

One moment Aleksander was pulling you against his side and Mal was shooting at the creatures of darkness that threatened to come in and wreak havoc inside the little bubble of light. The next moment, you were making eye contact with Mal. His face twisted in a feral anger, and he spun his gun towards you and shot it just as Aleksander dropped your hand to summon his Cut.

You didn’t even realize you’d been shot until warmth began to spread over your chest. You looked down to see the silver embroidery on your black kefta turning red with your blood, and that’s when you felt the pain. A hot, sharp ache bloomed through your chest and you fell backwards, head thumping against the sand. You’d been shot in the place between both of your collarbones, between the tiniest opening in your bulletproof kefta.

How capricious this universe can be, you thought.

Everything around you seemed like it was happening underwater, and you felt something shift next to you. You very slowly turned your head to see Aleksander on the ground next to you, clutching his side. He had been wounded, too. By what? You weren’t sure.

You closed your eyes and focused on your breathing- if you could even call it that. Every breath you took felt shorter and shorter and you were losing awareness rapidly.

It took you a moment to register that your name was being screamed and you opened your eyes to see a blurry Aleksander knelt over you. Light of pink and blue was swirling around everywhere and he pulled you up into his arms as if you were a child and he cradled you against his chest as he rose to his feet. The world became brighter and brighter around you until there was no trace of shadow.

The Fold had fallen.

You weakly grabbed at Aleksander’s kefta as he held you and your eyes grew hot and burned with fat tears.

“Aleksander,” you whispered weakly and let out a pathetic, weak sounding sob, “Please do not let me die, I don’t want to die. Please, I don’t want to die.” You begged, and you watched his face contort painfully.

He ground his teeth together as he looked down at you and his own tears threatened to fall.

“You are not going to die, do you hear me? Everything will be alright. You’ll still be my queen, wed under the willow at midnight. Remember?”

You did remember and you wanted to tell him you remembered but your mouth didn’t seem to want to form the words and your head didn’t move when you willed yourself to nod.

He let out a broken choking noise and he shook his head rigorously.

“Don’t you dare. Do not leave me alone on this earth. Y/n! Don’t do it!” He called and sunk to his knees.

Your head weakly rolled backwards and he grabbed your jaw gently, forcing you to look up at him.

“Please. Do not go this way, my love. It is not your time to go.” He whimpered and you shakily reached up and laid your hand on top of his as he held your jaw.

“You… are my greatest accomplishment. The best thing that I have ever known in this life.” You mumbled and gave him a weak smile.

“Your life is not over!” He protested and then he pulled your head up to his, resting his forehead against yours, “You are too young, my love. You are meant to live centuries at my side. Please, I know you’re strong, I need you to…” he trailed off and stared down at you as you cried. He wanted to beg you to fight, but the look on your face stopped him.

Your face was full of fear and you were shaking in his arms.

He knew you weren’t going to survive, and filling you with that false hope was not fair. Was he even going to survive? Likely not. He was a selfish person, but he couldn’t be selfish with you. Letting you die in fear because he begged you to hold on wasn’t fair. He couldn’t be selfish now. Not while you slipped away in his arms. His chest ached in a way he never wished to feel again, and hopefully he wouldn’t have to. He placed one kiss against your lips and bumped the tip of his nose against yours.

“It’s okay, my beautiful moonbeam. You can let go. Close your eyes, angel. Close your eyes and let go, it’s okay. I won’t let go of you.” He whispered, his own tears falling onto your cheeks.

“I love you. I’m so proud of you.” You breathed, your hand weakly falling away from his.

“And I love you, little love. Rest now. No one can ever hurt you again. It’s okay to just rest.” He said, barely above a whisper. Your tears and his mixed together on your face and you closed your eyes slowly.

With the last bit of strength you had in your body, you moved up just slightly and pressed your lips against his, and you did your best to muffle the sob that came from his mouth with your own.

A bittersweet smile crossed your lips as you moved away from his lips and you laid your head comfortably against his arm.

“My love, my life.” You murmured and he took a sharp intake of air to prevent himself from crying more.

He knelt there on the sanded ground with you until he watched you draw your last breath and he leaned down to kiss your forehead, painfully aware of all of the eyes on his back.

“My love, my life.” He repeated against your skin.

He very carefully laid your body out over the sand and rose to his feet, turning to stare at Alina blankly. He looked over at Mal as he laid unmoving and Aleksander held his hand over his wound as he stood straight up.

“Now… you know sacrifice.” He breathed and watched Alina carefully.

Alina eyed him and then glanced at your lifeless body on the ground.

“I believe you do, too.” She spoke in a firm tone, “And look what said sacrifice did.”

“Indeed.” Aleksander replied blankly, willing himself to keep his eyes off of you, “Look what it did.”

Tears gathered in her eyes and she nodded once at him.

“Mal and I changed the world.” She said tearfully, a little smile on her face, “We tore down your Shadow Fold.”

“You have my sympathies for what comes next. When you realize that what you’ve done solves nothing. The world doesn’t need a Saint to protect it-“

“But you needed one. You just had to have a Saint. And look where it got her. Perhaps the world doesn’t need a Saint, but look what you have done to yours.” Alina shouted and pointed at you.

His eyes wandered towards you and he shook his head, holding his hand over the gash in his side caused by Alina’s Cut.

“Your Firebird did this. Not I.”

“No, she is dead because of the choices you made.” Alina stated, shaking her head just once.

“Choices you, too, will make in time.”

Alina jutted her chin up into the air and she balled her fists at her sides.

“I will never walk your path. And if you hadn’t carried her down it, she would never have walked yours either.”

“I know you believe that now-“ Aleksander stepped forward and let out a groan, holding his side with both hands, “But soon, you’ll have no equal. The years spent alone will grind you down, they will harden you. And who will be there to shield you from it? Who will be there to save you? I could have. Y/n could have.“

There was a long pause shared between the two of them, and Alina grasped his shoulder when Aleksander approached her unsteadily, still clasping his wound.

“I will save myself. Your legacy is already written. It always has been. No amount of love for or from a girl could save you from that truth. There is no redemption.” She gave his shoulder a hard shove and he fell to his knees in pain.

He let out a long, gasping growl, and one of his nichevo'ya poured out from his back, taking on a sinister form behind his kneeling body.

The creature grabbed Alina, by the throat and lifted her up and when Aleksander tried to stop it, the creature flung him backwards.

A blade came flying through the air and pierced the shadow form, sending it scattering into the air, and Alina fell from its grip. Aleksander pulled himself up off of the ground at the same time as Alina rose to her knees and he grunted.

He walked towards her and offered her his hand.

“You can’t control them, can you?” She asked shakily, “You can’t control any of it.”

“I thought I could control it all once.” He spoke and Alina eyed his outstretched hand as if it were a venomous snake and he continued on, a tear rolling down his cheek, “Find peace. And for a moment…” his eyes fell shut and he tipped his face up towards the sky, “I swear I did.”

He inhaled shakily and his mind flickered to you. Every little moment with you seemed to rise to the forefront of his mind. The first night he held you and lulled you to sleep, the night of the winter fete when you promised to stand with him forever, the afternoon just mere weeks ago when you two had whispered your first and most meaningful “i love you”s. Tears were steadily falling down his cheeks now, slipping through his closed eyelids while your sweet voice filled his ears, calling his name, singing him praises. In his mind, you weren’t laying on the sand with a bullet in your chest. Instead you were laying underneath the moonlit, starry sky with him, in a world where forever meant forever.

Not here. Not in this cruel place where you had to be the atonement for all his wrongdoing; the price he paid for the sins he committed.

This world was no place for you. He swore you were his Saint but as he imagined felt your touch on his face there in the middle of what used to be his Fold, he began to wonder if really you were an embodiment of The Moon itself. Graceful and beautiful in all endeavors.

He could hear you calling for him and he leaned forward to meet your call, further, further…

Until he could lean further no more because a blade had pierced his abdomen.

He laid his hands on top of Alina’s as she held the sword in his stomach and he looked up into her eyes as black blood fell from his lips.

“Thank you.” He mouthed.

She gave him one nod and withdrew her blade, sending him falling backwards onto the sand next to you.

He heard you call for him again, and you were closer this time, and he was ready to answer your call.

Alina stood over him and he let out a little cough before he sucked in whatever breath he could to speak.

“Alina. You make sure there is nothing left of me. But her… please see to it that she is buried underneath the willow tree just behind the Little Palace. Please. She deserves that much. Make sure she’s remembered as a Saint.” He begged, giving the Sun Summoner a little nod.

She gave him one nod in return and pursed her lips.

“For her, Aleksander. Not for you.” She whispered and he gave her a weak smile before he looked past her, up at the sky above.

“I hear her.” He breathed. And it was true. Your voice rang in his ears, singing his name.

“Go to her.” Alina commanded quietly, her voice softening only slightly.

So he did.

[shepherd-of-the-stars]

Bound

Summary:

For a creature with such tainted and cursed blood to attempt what he did, being consumed by the flames seemed the most merciful punishment. For a werewolf to summon a demon—if the Devil himself didn’t come up to spite him for such an insult, he was sure God would have. (werewolf!Alfred and demon!Ivan)

Notes:

Gift for @flying-fish-styx in @spaceracedates 's Rusame Secret Santa event Surprise!!! >:) I got you for the secret santa lol. when I tell you I STRUGGLED to pick one of your prompts, I mean it lmao. I loved them all. But I had to choose. Hope you enjoy! love you Prompts: Running away together/ Magic/ Demons/ werewolves TW: medium gore, death. Arthur stans, this one is not for you, babes ao3 link in the notes

He was… alive.

Wounded and dizzy from the blood loss, legs too weak for him to stand, but still, very much, alive. 

And for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why. From the moment he slid the blade across his palm and painted the circle with his blood while reciting the ominous chant, he’d expected to burst into flames as the floor opened up and swallowed him into the deepest pits of Hell. That’s what should have happened. For a creature with such tainted and cursed blood to attempt what he did, being consumed by the flames seemed the most merciful punishment. 

For a werewolf to summon a demon—if the Devil himself didn’t come up to smite him for such an insult, he was sure God would have. 

Perhaps that was still a possibility for him. 

As Alfred stared into the six eyes of the demon in front of him—towering over him in height, monstrous body covered in scales and black tar, claws strong enough to crush him with one swipe, and a mouth full of crooked, fanged teeth—he couldn’t help but wonder if this one had come to grant his wishes like the book said, or if it was here to tear him to pieces. 

“Hello.” 

Alfred couldn’t help but flinch as the sound ripped through his body. The beast’s mouth didn’t move when it spoke. Whatever voice it possessed slammed into him like a shockwave and vibrated through his soul into his brain. It was deep and pitched and ghostly all at once. Terrifying and sinister. And looking right at Alfred for an answer. 

“Hi,” Alfred choked out, his voice almost swallowed by his own shaky, horrified breathing. 

The demon—cocking its head to the side—seemed to recognize his fear. It should have been then that it opened its mouth and swallowed Alfred whole. But instead, it let out a single, low laugh, before rising to its hind legs and… shifting. 

Scales and claws sunk into pale flesh, fangs retracted into its mouth, and bones cracked audibly as its form changed into that of a man. A perfectly normal looking man. With the horns of a bull and eyes of glowing violet. And naked from head to toe. 

“I apologize.” Its—his voice came smooth like burning liquor, no longer that unworldly noise. “It’s been some time since my last summoning. I’ve forgotten that humans get a little spooked by our true forms.”

How was Alfred to respond? Even though the demon seemed human now, Alfred had already seen what it could become. In seconds, it could change back and take his head in one bite. Instead, it was apologizing. Being… polite. 

“Why are you here?” Alfred recognized the voice as his own, but he didn’t remember moving his lips to speak. 

The demon replied again by cocking his head to the side. He looked down at the circle under his bare feet, then over at the worn, ancient book at Alfred’s side. “ You summoned me, my dear. Have you forgotten?” Then he smiled—all teeth—and Alfred was shown that even in his human form, the demon still had the power to tear his throat out if he so wished. Behind those innocent, pink lips was a full set of fangs, and a taste for flesh. 

“But—” Alfred swallowed, and the demon watched with an eerie patience as he waited for his answer. Clutching his bleeding hand to his chest and suppressing the tremor in his voice, he continued. “—I’m a werewolf. My blood is cursed! This shouldn’t have worked. How is—. I—”

“Yet you still tried.” The demon took a step closer. And closer. Until he knelt before Alfred with his hand outstretched. When Alfred didn’t move, still frozen in terror, the demon reached out to take his wounded hand into his own. “You humans will do anything when you are desperate.” 

“I’m not human.” He tried desperately to tear his hand away from the beast, but he refused to let go. “Not anymore.” 

“If that is one of your requests, I’m afraid I can’t help you.” The demon examined Alfred’s wounds before bringing them to his lips and running his forked tongue along the cuts. It must have had a sudden taste for blood, Alfred assumed. Until his wounds started to heal. Heal . Then the demon released Alfred’s hand and sat cross-legged on the floor. “I can make you stronger, taller, give you wings or claws, but I can’t change you back into a human.” 

Alfred stared down silently at his hands. They were perfect. Restored. Like nothing had happened. But a demon still sat in front of him, waiting for his command like a dog. “You… you’re really here to help me? To do whatever I want?” 

“For a price. Depending on the weight of your requests, I will take away pieces of your soul until one day, you simply drop dead.” Said like a host explaining the rules of a game. Like his life was nothing but another number on the board. 

“And if I don’t make any requests?” 

“Then I leave. And you go back to suffering whatever it was that pushed you to this point. Shall I?” 

As he began to stand, Alfred instinctively reached out to grab him and keep him in his place. But the moment his hands came in contact with the demon’s skin, he pulled away. The demon was ice cold to the touch.

“Wait— Please. I—I have a request.” 

At that, the demon smiled and returned to his spot in front of Alfred on the floor. 

“Well?” 

Alfred once more found himself at a loss for words. What he wanted to say screamed in his mind and begged to be heard, but his throat remained locked. 

“I may live forever, but you won’t.” 

The demon was mocking him. 

“Come now. What was so important to you that you risked your life to summon me?” 

Say it. 

Say it.

“Tell me, little pup.” 

Alfred’s head jerked up at the nickname and somehow found the courage to give the demon a glare. “Don’t call me that.” 

Unfazed, the demon smiled wider. Then said, “ Woof. ” 

His breath hitched, the dam broke, and the words burst from his chest. “I want you to kill the man who turned me!” His whole body went cold as his own words escaped. Any moment now, his pack would burst through the doors of the abandoned barn and drag him back to their den to be punished. He was already dead. His fate was sealed. So he continued. “He took everything from me. I had a life! A family! And he took it all away. He kept me alive because he said I was strong. That I would be good for the pack, but I wish everyday he would have killed me too.” 

His hands wouldn’t stop shaking, so he pinned them under his arms. “My only way out is to kill him. But I can’t do it. I can’t kill him. This stupid, fucking eternal pack bond keeps me from even—” His hands were in front of him now, wrapped around an invisible neck and squeezing until his nails drew crescents into his palms. Then he let out a defeated breath and let his hands fall back onto his lap. “I can’t hurt him. We’re bound by blood. I’m… I’m trapped.” 

The demon let out a soft, amused hum of understanding before straightening his posture. “Humans are all the same. Violence is always their solution.” Then a pause Alfred dared not interrupt. “Alright then. Tell me, little one. Who is he, and where can I find him?” 

Alfred answered slowly with hesitation in his voice. 

“Arthur Kirkland. He’s at the den.” 

------ (v—v) ------

When Alfred had imagined how it would be like to kidnap his pack leader, he thought it would be something out of a movie. He would walk down the hallway of their shared house, and the demon behind him would slaughter everyone who stepped foot in their path. By the end, Alfred, covered in blood, would be untouched, and Arthur would beg to be spared once he saw the lifeless bodies of his pack members.

But life wasn’t like the movies. 

Once Alfred had made his request, the demon fell into the shadows—gone—and seconds later, came back with the man, holding him by the neck like he was a doll. 

“This one?” He held Arthur up like a freshly caught fish as the werewolf clawed and struggled for breath. Sensing danger, Arthur began to shift. But before he could even get his claws to form, he was slammed into the floor so hard that it was a wonder how his skull didn’t crack open. 

“Nice try,” the demon sang. “But try again and I will rip your head off.” Confident the wolf wouldn’t make another attempt to shift, he looked again to Alfred and repeated his question. “Is this the one you want me to kill?” 

Only then did Arthur notice there was another person in the room. Alfred, the boy he had saved and raised; he thought of him as a son. Why would he do this? 

“Alfred,” his voice shook, blood dripped past his lips onto the floor. ”What is this? What have I done? Say it isn’t me, boy! Tell him the truth. It isn’t me! You have to help me—”

“Yes” —a black, clawed hand clamped his creator's mouth shut—”or no? I will take silence as a ‘yes’.” 

Alfred stared into Arthur’s wild, panicked eyes, unable to move. His wolf instincts screamed for him to save his pack leader, so loudly that he could barely hear the muffled pleads. It was only barely that he was able to force one, singular nod. 

Then the screams began. 

And the world around him fell into a dark blur. 

His whole body felt numb as he stared—unseeing—at the slaughter in front of him. He witnessed every strike, every piece of flesh torn from Arthur’s body, but at the same time, saw nothing. Like everything he saw was immediately wiped from his memory the moment he saw it. 

Then it was over.

He didn’t know how long it lasted, but Arthur was no longer… Arthur. He was a corpse so brutally torn apart that it no longer resembled a human. Bits and pieces scattered across the walls. Chunks of flesh stuck between the demon’s teeth as it licked its fingers clean. An echo of a voice in the back of his mind. He was gone. And Alfred was free. 

He was free. 

What now? 

It didn’t matter.

He was free. 

But nothing had changed. 

He looked down at his hands, soaked in red as the pool of blood spread closer to him. It stained his clothes. Clothes that Arthur had bought him. Arthur. His leader. The man who saved him. Took care of him like a father when he was turned. Taught him everything he needed to know.

The only man left to call his family. 

He had made a mistake. 

“Bring him back.” 

He lurched forward, scraping the blood and guts on the floor back into a heap. 

“I fucked up. Bring him back!” 

He didn’t know if the demon responded. All he could hear was his own frantic breathing as he gathered the pieces of Arthur into his hands and laid them in the center of the floor. 

But nothing worked. 

Arthur was gone. 

And it was all his fault. 

He felt wetness on his cheeks and reached up to wipe it away, only for the blood to mix with his tears until it was hard to tell the difference between the two. 

“I fucked up,” he choked out. “This isn’t what I wanted. I take it back. Please—” 

“I’m sorry, little one.” The demon squatted in front of him, flesh squelched beneath his bare feet. “I cannot take back what I’ve done.” 

“But I messed up. This isn’t what I wanted—” 

“It is.” The demon reached forward to steady Alfred’s hands. Those same hands, once warm, now matched the icy feel of the demon's. 

Then the world around them shifted, and when Alfred looked up again, he saw the night sky and the rain falling around them. The blood on his hands washed away, and in the dark mud beneath them, it simply disappeared. He didn’t know where they were, but everything around them smelled different. New. 

“This isn’t my first time taking a human’s request to kill someone in their family. There is always guilt and regret, but in time, you will move on and realize it was the right choice.” 

“How long does that usually take?” His voice trembled from the adrenaline and the cold.

Without having to say a word, the demon shielded him from the rain with his wings. “Months. Sometimes years. It depends on the person.” 

“Why are you being nice to me?” 

“Can I not be?” 

“You’re a demon.” 

“And I am bound to you.” 

Bound like he used to be with Arthur. Yet this felt different, somehow. 

“What’s your name?” 

It was a simple enough question, but it was one the demon still needed to think over. “I have no name, but my previous owner called me ‘Ivan’. I suppose you can call me that as well.” 

Ivan. The name of the demon that would be with him for the rest of his life. 

“Ivan,” he tried. The name sounded right. “Ivan, take me somewhere warm.” 

His demon smiled, bowing his head. “As you wish.” 

[inkatesbush]

"Oh, yes, when the mother and the torturer whose hounds tore her son to pieces embrace each other, and all three cry out with tears: 'Just art thou, O Lord,' then of course the crown of knowledge will have come and everything will be explained. But there is the hitch: that is what I cannot accept. And while I am on earth, I hasten to take my own measures. You see, Alyosha, it may well be that if I live until that moment, or rise again in order to see it, I myself will perhaps cry out with all the rest, looking at the mother embracing her child's tormentor: 'Just art thou, O Lord!' but I do not want to cry out with them. While there's still time, I hasten to defend myself against it, and therefore I absolutely renounce all higher harmony. It is not worth one little tear of even that one tormented child who beat her chest with her little fist and prayed to 'dear God' in a stinking outhouse with her unredeemed tears! Not worth it, because her tears remain unredeemed. They must be redeemed, otherwise there can be no harmony. But how, how will you redeem them? Is it possible? Can they be redeemed by being avenged? But what do I care if they are avenged, what do I care if the tormentors are in hell, what can hell set right here, if these ones have already been tormented? And where is the harmony, if there is hell? I want to forgive, and I want to embrace, I don't want more suffering. And if the suffering of children goes to make up the sum of suffering needed to buy truth, then I assert beforehand that the whole of truth is not worth such a price. I do not, finally, want the mother to embrace the tormentor who let his dogs tear her son to pieces! She dare not forgive him! Let her forgive him for herself, if she wants to, let her forgive the tormentor her immeasurable maternal suffering; but she has no right to forgive the suffering of her child who was torn to pieces, she dare not forgive the tormentor, even if the child himself were to forgive him! And if that is so, if they dare not forgive, then where is the harmony? Is there in the whole world a being who could and would have the right to forgive? I don't want harmony, for love of mankind I don't want it. I want to remain with unrequited suffering. I'd rather remain with my unrequited suffering and my unquenched indignation, even if I am wrong. Besides, they have put too high a price on harmony; we can't afford to pay so much for admission. And therefore I hasten to return my ticket. And it is my duty, if only as an honest man, to return it as far ahead of time as possible. Which is what I am doing. It's not that I don't accept God, Alyosha, I just most respectfully return him the ticket."

—Ivan Karamazov from The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky, p 260-261

[veinsfullofstars]

⭐ Welcome! ⭐

Henlo. Hope you’re doing well. Thanks for poppin’ by. I’m Veins, an art goblin on the internet with abnormal levels of anxiety and chronic video game brainrot, and this is my introduction post. Any updates or news on my end will be added here as well. I hope you’ll be patient with me and enjoy your visit!

(Last updated 10/31/24)

---

Who are you?

What an existentially upsetting question. Well, for the moment, I go by VeinsFullOfStars online, usually shortened to just Veins. I’m also toying around with Ivan or Yves, but Veins is the most preferable. Nice to meet you!

Wait, didn't you already have an account here? With the same username?

I did. I, uh, panic-deleted it in response to the data-scraping fiasco and regretted it almost immediately. As a result, you might see reblogs from the deactivated account still floating around. There is, unfortunately, nothing I can do about those unless the blogs that shared them take them down themselves (and, hey, if you happen to be one of those folks seeing this, I'd super appreciate it if you'd maybe remove the old reblog and replace it with the new one from here if you can). It's my mistake for overreacting, and now I just have to live with it. Sorry for any confusion.

What are your preferred pronouns/gender?

Thanks for asking! I’m non-binary, and I use they/them pronouns.

How old are you?

Ancient (in my 30s).

What is your avatar supposed to be?

A goblin. Very smol, very nervous, very puntable.

What are you using this blog for?

Art, mostly. I draw digitally and sometimes make stuff with yarn. I've also been writing since I could hold a pencil (though I don’t have much finished, so art will be the main focus for now). Also, expect a lot of reblogs, shitposts, and/or silence between posts - I am a simple hobbyist with a lot of brain nonsense and IRL hurdles. I’ll do my best to post with some regularity, but - again - I hope you’ll be patient with me if things go quiet from time to time.

What are your interests?

I love stories. I love characters. I love folks who can weave whole worlds with nothing but words on a page or color on a canvas. I grew up on fantasy novels, short horror stories, and late ‘90s/early ’00s animation. I learned to appreciate slice-of-life and slow-burn romance much later. Mythology and folklore also slaps, and I wonder sometimes if I should’ve majored in psychology instead of lib arts. My playlists are nothing but video game OSTs with a little heavy metal and j-rock sprinkled in for flavor. I sold my soul to Nintendo years ago, but sometimes I find indie darlings to fall in love with for a time. Dogs are adorable little menaces, and I love them all with my whole chest. Cats are okay, and I am allergic to them. (Does that answer the question? I think I lost track towards the end there…)

Any current hyperfixations?

Tons, but the biggest ones at the moment are Kirby, Hollow Knight, and Paper Mario. More nebulous interests include (in no particular order) Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky, Rain World, Stardew Valley, most Soulsborne titles, Hades, Darkest Dungeon, The Legend of Zelda, Undertale/Deltarune, OFF, The Binding of Isaac, Ace Attorney, Luigi's Mansion, Animal Crossing, The Magnus Archives, Sonic the Hedgehog, and countless more. When I say “multifandom,” I mean it, homie.

Do you have any other social media?

Just this and an AO3 account. So, if you see my name anywhere but these two places, it’s probably not me. For now, Tumblr will be the best place to keep up-to-date with my stuff. If anything changes, I’ll let y’all know here.

Do you have a list of tags you use on your posts?

I tag things obsessively, but I’ll try to sort out the most relevant/unique ones I use here:

#veins art - for any art I’ve made (chrono link)

#veins fanart - for art I’ve made featuring characters from other IPs

#veins ocs - for art I’ve made featuring my original characters/stories

#veins sketches - for any of my unrendered doodles/sketch dumps

#veins old art - for reposts of older art I made before moving to Tumblr (Note: these posts are here for archival purposes and may not reflect my current style/interests.)

#veins writes - for any written works I’ve made

#veins ships - for any posts (reblogs included) featuring romantic pairings; I will also try to include specific pairings as “#(blank) x (blank)” and/or any ship names

#veins rambles - for random thoughts/text posts

#veins answers - for any of my responses to asks sent in (chrono link)

#veins in dream land - for any rambles/headcanons about the Kirby series specifically

#veins reblogs - for anything I reblog, obviously

#childhood friends au - for art from my Kirby AU where Dedede and Meta Knight first met as kids (masterpost | chrono link)

#kintsugi au - for art from my Kirby AU centered around the Mirror World, the Wave 2 gang, and the Darkroach ship - warning: may contain angst and suggestive content (masterpost | chrono link)

#kirbtober 2023 - for my Kirbtober 2023 art (chrono link)

#kirbtober 2024 - for my Kirbtober 2024 art (chrono link)

#mtddweek2024 - for my MetaDede Week 2024 art (chrono link)

I’ll update this with new tags if/when they pop up. Anything else will have generic tags to fit the context of the post. I also mark trigger warnings with tags like “#(blank) tw” if necessary.

What do you use to make your art?

For digital art, I use Clip Studio Paint and a Wacom Intuos Pro S drawing tablet (that I'm pretty sure I've had since high school). I don’t draw traditionally as much anymore, but, when I do, it’s usually just quick sketches with pencil and paper. For writing, I use TextEdit or whatever generic rich text editing software I can find. For crafting, I use yarn and plastic canvas.

What brushes do you use?

For sketching and linework, I use a slightly modified version of the Wick Pencil from the 8 Particle Pencil catalog made by saturns_day. For flats and rendering, I use the default CSP hard round brush, airbrush, and G-pen. For effects and extras (clouds, textures, sparkles, etc.), I use default effects brushes or whatever I can find from the CSP Asset Shop.

Can I share your work through reblogs? And are tags okay?

Of course! Reblogs are absolutely fine and always encouraged. I’m also fine with tags as well (though I ask that you not mark anything as a ship unless I’ve marked it as such on the original post - look for the tag #veins ships if you’re ever unsure).

Can I repost/use your work for my own personal/commercial use?

Absolutely not. While I am always in support of creators inspiring each other with our works and endeavors, that does not mean anyone should engage in art theft (intentional or otherwise). Under no circumstances may you repost, reupload, reproduce, copy, trace, modify, sell, use, tokenize, scrape/integrate into A*I, and/or otherwise claim as your own any of my art/written works. Never assume a piece of art shared online in yours for the taking - that is someone else’s hard work and passion, and you need to respect that.

Can I dub one of your comics?

As flattering as that would be, I worry about lack of credit or my work being stolen for others’ content, so I sadly have to say no.

Why is there a big watermark on your art?

The state of the internet today has made me extremely paranoid about things like art theft, bad-faith reposts, nonconsensual integration, etc., so I make sure to sign and WM anything original I post. I know it’s not exactly fun to look at (maybe even distracting or bad for engagement), but I’d rather be safe than sorry, so I guess I’ll just have to take that hit.

Do you have an askbox? Can we send in questions/comments/etc.?

Yes, the ask box is currently open, and I'm more than happy to receive any questions, comments, etc. you guys might have (even if it makes me a bit nervous, haha)! I just ask that you read the rules first before you submit anything.

Do you take requests/commissions/suggestions/collabs/etc.?

Sadly, I do not take art requests or suggestions unless I put out a specific call for them. I'm also not really in a position to take commissions either. Collabs I'm on the fence about - maybe with mutuals or folks I know personally.

Is this an inclusive space?

Of course! This queer little goblin accepts everyone under the LGBTQIA+ umbrella, along with folks of all shapes, sizes, backgrounds, disabilities, and colors. That said, there will be absolutely no tolerance for (inhale) racism, sexism, transphobia, queerphobia, xenophobia, misogyny/misandry, bigotry of any kind, ableism, p***philia, inc*st, selfc*st, z**philia, RPF, trolling behavior, self-promotion, the promotion of N*FTs or A*I art, or any otherwise harmful, toxic, or hurtful rhetoric. Anyone seen behaving as such will be blocked, reported, and forgotten. I do not feed trolls - I let them starve. :)

Is this an all-ages space?

Hmm… I’m gonna have to say no. While I probably won’t be posting/sharing anything too lewd or graphic, I’m not opposed to things like swearing, angst, fluff bordering on suggestive, and discussions of mature subject matter (all of which I will make sure to tag with content warnings as necessary). Obviously, I can’t police everyone who wanders into this blog (especially since some people omit or lie about their ages online), so the best I can do is ask for good faith on your part. If you are under 18, interact at your own risk. The last thing I want is to make anyone - myself included - uncomfortable because there are kids in an adult-allocated space. Again, I hope you understand.

What is your stance on shipping?

The vernacular around pro- or anti-shipping confuses the hell out of me, so I’ll just try to explain my personal philosophy on it: I have ships I like, ones I’m indifferent to, and ones I won’t touch with a ten-foot pole. I only reblog (and tag) ship-related content I’m in support of, even if it’s not one of my personal favorites. Most importantly, I don’t bother others about their personal preferences. Anything I don’t like or don’t support, I simply do not engage with. Or, if it makes me too uncomfortable, I block outright. The same should apply to your experience as well - if you ever see ship stuff here that you don’t like, feel free to block the tags (look for specific pairings, ship names, and/or my personal tag #veins ships) or even the blog entirely. You are not obligated to like the things I like or engage with media you don’t enjoy. Respect for each other and curation of your personal online space is always key. Additionally, I 100% will not ship minors, blood relations (including adopted family), self x self, anything relating to b*stiality, or anything relating to RPF.

Are you okay?

No, not even a little bit... but fuck it, we keep going.

Why do you put a comma before the “and” in a sequence of three or more words?

You can take my Oxford comma away from me when I’m cold, dead, and rotting in the dirt.

Is there anything else?

Nah, I think we’re good for now. Thanks for taking the time to read all this. Hope it wasn’t too rambly or weird - just trying to cover all my bases. I hope you all have a lovely timezone out there, wherever you are. Be sure to wash your hands, wear your mask, and stay hydrated. Remember to be strong, be safe, and, for the love of dog, be kind. Peace!

-Veins (originally posted 08/07/23, reposted 02/29/24, updated as of 10/31/24)

[whumpcereal]

AU Joe makes my heart melt.

What daily thing is the hardest for him to get through?

Well, anon, it's simple, but it does happen every day. Role reversal AU Joe has my whole heart; masterlist at the bottom, here. Reminder that this is not canon, but I love it anyway.

content warnings for: noncon (not graphic, but definitely present), captivity, creepy/intimate whumper, forced domesticity, forced nudity, adult language

captivity snippet, morning

It’s waking up that’s the hardest. In the seconds before Joe opens his eyes, he could be anywhere. He could be in his own bed, Carl panting on the carpet below. The soft lips that brush against the top of his spine, the strong hands that slip over his hips, the warm body that presses against his—they could all belong to Jack.

They don’t. Joe knows they don’t. But sometimes, he lingers in the darkness just so that he can let himself believe. He keeps his eyes buttoned shut, and he’s home. It doesn’t hurt anymore.  

Except that it does hurt. It doesn’t matter how much Joe tries to pretend otherwise. 

The soft lips turn hard. Teeth sink into his bare shoulder; greedy hands knead his flesh. It isn’t Jack. Jack is softer, more gentle, and even when he isn’t, it doesn’t feel like this. Joe presses his lips together, trying to keep himself from crying out. It isn’t worth it. He won’t give Ivan the satisfaction. 

His eyes open, and even though the room is familiar now, it isn’t home that he sees. He doesn’t have a home anymore. He lives in Ivan’s home, and he serves at Ivan’s pleasure. Ivan can pretend they are a happy couple all he wants; it doesn’t change the fact that Joe is his property.

“Rise and shine, sweetheart,” Ivan murmurs. 

He worries Joe’s earlobe between his teeth and slips his hand between Joe’s legs, working until Joe complies and begins to, well, rise. Joe knows he doesn’t want this, but it doesn’t matter; his body responds just the way it is supposed to. He’s well trained.

“That’s right. I know how you like it.” 

It’s alright, Joe tells himself. It’s easier this way, if he doesn’t fight. But the gaping hole in his chest opens up, the way it does every morning. This isn’t right. It isn’t fair. And it certainly isn’t real. Ivan doesn’t know what Joe likes, nor does he care. All of this is about what Ivan wants. It will never be about anything else. 

Ivan moves Joe onto his back, gently, like he thinks Joe will break. Joe does not break, but the cuff on his ankle shifts against weeping skin. He feels the pain, but he doesn’t mind it. Not really. He prefers the hurt to Ivan’s twisted version of pleasure. The pain, at least, is real. Their domestic bliss is not. Three months in, and Ivan still chains Joe to the bed at night. 

He isn’t locked in the bedroom during the day anymore, but he thinks he might have liked that better. He hates sitting naked at the breakfast table, hates his place beneath the desk while Ivan writes his case notes, hates the way Ivan holds him close while they watch TV. 

He hates himself, he guesses. But that’s neither here nor there. 

Ivan’s lips touch down just above Joe’s navel. “Now, my Joey, what should we do today?” 

Joe knows what they will do. The day will start just like every other day does, and it will end the same way. If he’s lucky, that will be all. But he doesn’t have any choice, and they both know it. He can’t even answer Ivan’s questions anymore. Not that Ivan wants him to–he just–he can’t. 

Joe stares at the ceiling and ignores the throb between his legs as Ivan nuzzles against his thigh. It isn’t real. It isn’t because he wants it. He just has to get through it. That’s all. 

“I love our mornings together,” Ivan coos, and he slinks upward to cover Joe’s body with his own. He drags Joe’s wrists above his head and pins them there with one hand, ducking his head to nibble at Joe’s pulsepoint. “And our nights. All of it, really. You made the right decision, sweetheart.” 

Joe’s eyes close again. It wouldn’t have been that long ago that he might have cried at a speech like this one, but he doesn’t have any tears left. What would be the fucking point? He wishes he didn’t have eyes at all, that he didn’t have to wake every morning and see the world as it is now. He wishes he didn’t have ears, a mouth, fucking skin. He wishes he didn’t exist at all. 

But he does. And for good reason. Joe exists this way so that Jack can live. And that’s enough. It has to be. 

He knows it’s still fresh, but Joe hopes, distantly, that Jack will find someone else. Ivan isn't wrong: Joe made the right decision. Joe isn't collared or shut up in a cage; what does he really have to complain about? He saved Jack. It’s noble bullshit, but Joe needs something to believe in. Jack deserves to be loved; that’s why Joe signed up for this. Jack can’t haunt their house like some sad ghost. He has to live, to find the life he’s always deserved, even if it isn’t with Joe. Jack must know that; he must want it. Joe hopes he does. 

“Joey-love, where’d you go?” 

Ivan doesn’t bother with any kind of preparation. He presses inside Joe without warning, but really, there’s no warning required. Joe knows what he’s there for. Even with his eyes closed, Joe can’t imagine being anywhere else. 

taglist: @oddsconvert, @darkthingshappen, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @sparrowsage, @aut0psy-s, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @termsnconditions-apply, @darlingwhump, @squishablesunbeam, @dont-be-gentle-please, @deltaxxk, @irishwhiskeygrl, @keeper-of-all-the-random-things, @hold-him-down, @peachy-panic, @whumpyblogthing, @sowhumpful, @considerablecolors, @ramadiiiisme, @sunnywhump

[sleepymarmot]

Rope (1948)

[Watched on October 29th]

As with my previous Hitchcock – first, the liveblog.

Yes, yes, I’ve been watching the shortest films in my watchlist recently. Still, when I saw 1:20 in my video player, I had to pause and google for confirmation.

Oh look, James Stewart again!

I love it when a film is just a stage play on screen. They’ve got such a distinctive style of writing and delivery!

Added ten seconds later: fucking incredible amounts of “as you know” exposition in this dialogue lmfao

Me knowingly watching a gay subtext classic: I know it’s from the 40s but it really feels like they’re about to kiss

Phillip looks like a destiel lovechild btw

Approximately 1/4 of dialogue at the party so far is murder innuendos

Love the women’s chat about hot actors… some things never change

This old guy has an Ivan Karamazov vibe. I bet within the hour he’s going to regret his rhetoric!

Why is Brandon straight up confessing…

The most obvious murderers since Raskolnikov I swear to god

They’re yelling so loudly that Rupert would hear them over the phone in the next room

In the last 10-15 minutes I seriously considered that Rupert would side with them after all. I genuinely had no idea whether the movie would take the natural route (it did) or have a big plot twist. [Film name redacted for spoilers] did manage to ruin itself at the very last minute, after all!

---

Rope has been on my watchlist forever, but the other day I looked up Leopold and Loeb on Wikipedia, and the mention of the film at the end of the article finally inspired me to watch it.

Once again, I don’t really have anything special to say about a Hitchcock film. This one didn’t shoot itself in the foot, thankfully! It was pretty much what I expected.

Surprise: a Hitchcock film is suspenseful! I was genuinely nervous despite not sympathizing with the murderers. Especially during that shot of the food being cleared off of the chest…

It took me some time to catch on that the weird blackouts on characters’ backs were the means to disguise the cuts, and the takes were extremely long. Really enhances the theatrical feel! Nice darkening evening sky effect in the background, too, though the clouds looked distractingly fake. The lack of cuts and the visibly fading daylight were quite successful at creating the feeling that we’re watching the events in real time.

I like how much of the dialogue references the murder, and only half of the participants understand it. “These hands will bring you great fame”!

What I didn’t expect was the Dostoyevsky of it all. Inappropriate rants in a crowd of colorful individuals? Discussions of the right to kill and to dismiss the ethical norms? A guy on the verge of a nervous breakdown, screaming crying throwing up throughout the whole thing? Sexual transgression that the characters try not to talk about directly? I’ve seen this somewhere before!

Obligatory review section: “accidental marathon, i.e. similarities with the last movie I watched before this one” (or, in this case, the last one I watched and liked). This time it’s unconventional toxic couple having arguments in a room for an hour and a half. Oh wait a second, I didn’t even realize! The actual last movie I watched starred Cary Grant, who was mentioned in this one and was, according to the internet, offered the role of Rupert.

Rating: something between 9 and 10 out of 10.

[burneraccbcyallpissedmeoff]

First of all, this is a burner account so, rage all you want I'm not gonna respond, but i had to get this off my chest, either that or I'll just leave this fandom

Alexis

Let's break it down

1.Alexis is not that important to have eachother by the throat over

This discourse is pointless, and petty as fuck, we don't care if you love her or you want to fuck her keep it to yourself

2.you don't know SHIT about Alexis to do all of this

Unless erik gave you and only you private audios where Alexis has a listener and you know her like you know the characters with playlists and audios, you ain't got no fucking right to decide for us if she's redeemed or deserves to die by garlic poisoning

Assume for yourself, leave everyone else

If you're gonna bring up that we would understand her if we know her side of the story, well guess what? We don't know that yet, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it

3.don't compare Alexis to other villains in the story

Before you come and say "oh but yall simp/don't trash talk vega/blake/quinn/ivan like you do her" count with me

Vega has: a playlist, 2 listeners, a mention and a voice in the imperium and is an important plot point + a main character in the plot

Blake has: a playlist, a listener (two if you will), and is an important plot point + a main character in the plot

Ivan has: a playlist, 2 listeners, a mention and a voice in the imperium + a main character in his story

Quinn has: a mention in the imperium and is a plot point of which a whole playlist was built by (without counting fred's taken down playlist)

What does Alexis have to be worthy enough of comparing to any of those villains?, all she has is 5 minutes in the imperium (while torturing milo,i should add), and she gets killed right after

Next time you wanna compare her to someone else make sure they are

-a side character

-only mentioned in prime

-only voiced in the imperium

-portrait as a villain

Anything else it's invalid

4.why Alexis

Out of ALL the side characters we've seen that has been mentioned/voiced/talked about yall chose to care for her? What makes her so goddamn special????

Miguel is around, brooks is too, christian, ansel exist in that universe, no one seems to care? Why? Why did we never have a discourse over if christian got better or not? We heard about/from him way more then we ever did Alexis

If you like her voice that much, go to "love boldly voice acting asmr", healer is over there, go simp for her

But if your argument includes

-because she's a woman

-because she's a POC

I have news for you, you're sexist and racist, putting a woman above all the other male characters and putting someone with a darker skin shade above all (assumed) white people

if you can't see christian becoming better and still see him as an asshole, but also see Alexis for the better side of her, it's not fucking fair

5.All around Alexis

This is the actual reason i didnt post this on my actual account but fuck it

Yall are insane about Alexis because yall are afraid and brain-washed to think that POC and woman do no wrong, let alone a mix of two

Yall think that

POC/woman = saints

Which as i said racist against any other race yall are putting down for it( in this case white,because somehow having a whole cast of black people≠having a whole cast of white people,and the former is better while the latter is cancel worthy) and sexist because yall cherish her over all other male characters

And that is not your fault, not really, it's what the media made you think, but i wish you realize it before it's too late

I say this as a black person, racism can be against any and all race

6.a reminder

If you think we'll understand Alexis if we hear her side of turning sam

I hope to remind you that:

Sam still hasn't bitten darling not only because he was turned against his will by Alexis

But he has a bad past with biting because of her even before he was turned

:)

That is all i have to offer of now, shall we meet at another discourse,if i didntget banned till then:)

[starmotions]

musical shuffle tag meme

tagged by @hanjisoonie (and @hungerpunch in another musical tag meme) to do this cute music tag meme!!

rules: shuffle your ‘on repeat’ playlist and post the first 10 tracks & list 10 songs you really like, each by a different artist, and then tag 10 people to do the same !!

i'm shuffling my spotify wrapped here bc i have way to many playlists to choose from.

10 random tracks:

seventeen by sjowgren

everybody breaks by ivan & alyosha

crash by mai.la

our love (from arcane) by curtis harding and jazmine sullivan

parents by YUNGBLUD

little me by duumu and karnaboy

achilles come down by gang of youths

the kill by thirty seconds to mars

too much by HONEYMOAN

in the kitchen by mree

a pretty solid listing all around. no repeats, goes from artists with only 1k listeners a month to those with 5mil, from poptimism to rock, lot of lyricism and indie pop lol. i like to discover smaller artists a lot but will also get into a vibe trend where only one song will cut it or i have to devour one musician's album (see: yungblud) so i have to listen to that. i also did listen to like three soundtracks sooo heavily this past year. arcane takes the cake though, it was phenomenal in every way. if you haven't watched this breakdown of creating 'what could have been' by arcane musical composer alex seaver, you should!

10 favorite tracks:

blemish by mae mae and the colourist has some upbeat-sad contemplative vibes, which i'm always into. sonically it's just very appealing, the 'hate to burst your bubble, but you're always causing trouble like you always do', i listen to it on repeat a mmmm lot

i'm still here by john rzeznik from treasure planet! yeah, i'm still not over it!!!! it's so fucking good. sweeping and captivating, it builds in your chest like you're truly flying

jigoku tengoku by TWINKIDS it's just pure vibes, so very vibes. also: 'i'm thinking bloodstone/your cold li looving will/be keeping me warm' yeah i do love that vampire love thanks

nothing new by the strike i listened to the strike a lot this past year. a lot of their songs have a fabulous tempo that is perfect for furiously typing or running or cleaning or highway driving

this hell by rina sawayama when people talk about an anthem, this is the type of song they mean. anthem IS its genre. i jam, i groove, i sing along. i wanna do the two-step like in the music video

supercut by lorde i don't listen to a whole lot of lorde but supercut has a perfect late night driving echoing in the blue headlights atmosphere, with the echo of the vocals and the staccato in the bridges, it's very satisfying

the funeral by yungblud like i said, this album on repeat! 'do you hate yourself? well that's alright. do you love yourself? well that's alright! do you dream about the day you die?' lots to love, including the oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-ohs

powder blue/cascine park by yumi zouma here be vibes again! it's a very soothing sort of musical swimming, good for listening to on repeat and keeping a consistent tempo. most of this group's songs fall in the same home lo-fi vibe

vivaldi storm by 2CELLOS ha, i almost always have a little instrumental interlude in my playlists and i enjoy this little mashup a lot. emphatic and vibrant !

i love it when hot guys cry by link lauren honestly everyone should listen to this song. whenever i listen to it i wanna put it on repeat for days. when will it be on drag race, etc. it's just campy great goodness. i get recommended a lot of smaller queer artists on spotify and almost always enjoy them bc they are just so unabashedly themselves and over the top and romo and delightful - shout out to be steadwell, gregory dillon, heartthrob and kelechi!!

thanks for the tag, hon! i'll go ahead and no pressure tag:

@deadhoneysalama, @fromadifferentphase, @lomku, @somekindofsheepl, @sevenpoints, @spareourworld, @crent-trimm, @the-faultofdaedalus, @alexenglish, @docdracula ! 💖

[teabiscs]

Yubo Fic Idea

So I should have planned this out for my other story because it would have been way more interesting. But I’m going for softness and fluff. So probably good this didn’t get thought of back in September last year. Because Yuriy in my fic didn't need this on top of everything

But here it is. It’s a slow burn, if that's not obvious by how RIDICULOUSLY long this whole thought is. Because I do not know how to be casual. Also if something like this exists EVEN in the slightest, help me OUT.

Boris and Yuriy are both in love with one another. Everyone with eyes can see Boris is in love with Yuriy. Head over heels. Heart eyes. Would kill for the redhead. 

Those who know Yuriy well enough (Borg and Kai) know that he loves Boris. Maybe he can’t articulate it. Maybe it makes him feel funny admitting it. Maybe he thinks it’s embarrassing broadcasting his feelings. 

It’s 100% mutual. Right? Perfect. 

Butt not in this plot. Yuriy is fine with what they have. Doesn’t want to throw off the status quo they have of being Friends+ (the plus being: kissing, cuddling, sleeping together. Not orgasms tho bc they never got that far). Yuriy is comfortable. He has Boris. He has his family and everyone is happy!

Except for Boris. Who craves more. He wants that silly little title of /boyfriend/. Wants to hold the redhead’s hand in public. To hold him. To express more of his love out of behind the closed doors of Yuriy’s bedroom. Boris is so patient and understanding that Yuriy needs time. But at this point it’s been five years of this cat and mouse game and they’re in their mid twenties. And Boris is human. He is greedy. He wants things. 

And things unravel from here. It always starts a fight when Boris brings up anything related to wanting more. Consolidating space, PDA, boyfriends. And Boris is tired at this point. It’s been five fucking years of waiting. This gets heated. Yelling and screaming. Snarling. And if they both didn’t have extensive therapy, hands would have been thrown. 

And it ends with Boris giving Yuriy an ultimatum, they either progress to a new level in their relationship or what they have is done. They’ll still be friends. But for Boris’ sake he’s stepping back. 

And Yuiry chooses the latter. What he doesn’t realize is how serious Boris was. 

He moves out the next week, half out of spite, half because he thinks it will make him feel better. Sergei and Ivan know, but Boris doesn’t tell Yuriy. So yuriy comes home one day to a silent house with shifty eyes when they all sit down for dinner. No one says anything about Boris’ seat being empty or the lack of a place setting. So yuriy just thinks he’s out for the night, and since they’re on bad terms just wasn’t told. But that night he gets a better look around the house and notices some of Boris’ things missing but he tries to ignore it. Then the next morning Boris still isn’t there. Yuriy looks around at the other guys at the table eating breakfast. A plate is still missing from Boris’ spot. 

“Boris didn’t come home last night?” He asks

The two share a look. And Sergei goes “oh fuck, did he not tell him.” He looks to Ivan. 

“Trust that asshole to let us break the news.”

The news? Yuriy’s eyebrows almost reach his hairline. 

“Boris moved out yesterday.”

And Yuriy is too calm as he goes Oh, and finishes eating his food. 

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

And yuriy has a breakdown. He calls off of work and tears apart his room. He barely realizes why. Boris warned him. Boris gave him a choice. This is what he wanted. This is what he picked. 

-

And then it gets worse. 

Just a lot of sad boys. And then Boris enjoying life. And sad Yuriy who just reached a breaking point and doesn't care anymore. He lets himself cry. Lets himself feel things, because if he doesnt its going to explode out of him. He feels better after a cry. Yuriy doesnt understand how his heart can hurt like this. He wishes he could just claw it out of his chest. It hurts so fucking bad.

-

Boris finds an apartment astonishingly quick. He gets himself situated and tells Sergei and Ivan he’s leaving. it hurts saying goodbye. But he needs this. Needs the space. Needs to get far away from Yuriy and figure out his wants and his needs and find someone who will give them to him. Not someone who’s willing to stay stagnant forever. 

And that whole post moving out Boris, is him just using alcohol and sex to cope. He’s a virgin prior to this, but lordy, does alcohol calm his nerves. Havnet figured out how Boris and Kai end up being friendly enough prior to this, or if they become friends because of this. Boris moves out because he knows its going to hurt Yuriy, he wants it to. He isnt sure if its comparable to how he’s been feeling, but he hopes it is, and hopes its worse (yuriy would tell you its worse)

It pains him to have to hit up Hiwatari, but it means getting into clubs easier and knowing someone there. It’s fun to let loose and dance with pretty girls and Fit Guys. His hands on slim hips, and strong arms on his hips grinding against him. He feels wanted. It's refreshing. 

Hiwatari isn’t that bad either, Boris realizes. He pays for their table and the drinks, and always helps him home when he’s had too much to drink. Tell him who to avoid and who’s clean, whos a good fuck and who is awful in bed. Who will try and trap him with a kid. All good friend things. 

Boris ends up dancing with him one night, and between the lights, music and alcohol haze forgets who’s grinding their ass on his cock and considers taking him home that night. (He quickly remembers it’s Kai fucking Hiwatari, his has his hands on and discards that idea. 

Boris enjoys this month of bliss, forgetting Yuriy and living a life that’s normal for a 25 year old. He barely thinks of the redhead, except when he’s sober, and for that month he’s rarely sober except when he’s busy at work. 

He sees Sergei and Ivan when he knows Yuriy is busy, (who scold him for not even saying goodbye to Yuriy or telling him he was moving out and how fucked up it was having them tell him.). He tried to ignore how they tell him that Yuriy is struggling since he’s been gone. He’s not sleeping or eating. And not taking care of himself. 

And Boris pushes down the feelings that rise up his stomach to the back of his throat. And make him feel sick. Tried to ignore that what he’s doing is hurting Yuriy, the one he claimed he loved and wanted more with. 

He puts up a tough front in front of the others, he’s not sure how convincing it is. Sergei seems to buy it. Ivan not so much, when he says “well this is what Ivanov wanted. He didn’t want me so I left”

“You didn’t have to leave though. You could have stayed” Sergei says

“Do you have any idea how much it hurt me being in the house with him? I’m finally doing better. It’s not my problem that he’s suffering the consequences of his actions. You can’t ask me to hurt myself so he stops.” And he excuses himself. 

He dials up Hiwatari and tells him he needs to go out tonight and doesn’t want to be stopped unless they’re taking him away in an ambulance for alcohol poisoning. 

“It can be arranged. That bad huh? You see him again?”

“Bad yes. Saw Sergei and Ivan.”

“Be ready in an hour. I’ll pick you up.”

That night they both take someone home to Kai’s house, if you wanna call it that. Boris wakes up the next morning as the girl is pulling on her fishnets and boots. He finally gets a good look at her. Shes a tiny alt/emo girl with brightly dyed hair and more piercings than him. She flashes him a smile and thanks him for the good time, and that she hopes to see him at the club again. 

-

And they meet up several more times and start dating. Boris warning her that this is his first relationship and he’s trying and if he does something wrong it’s not on purpose it’s just all new. And she reassured him that he’s doing a great job and kisses him. She holds his hand. She cuddles with him. She’s soft with him and affectionate in ways he never knew he wanted. 

And it’s nice. It feels like something more than friends. Feels like what he’s always wanted. It’s so easy to fall into a groove of seeing her after he gets off from work. To spending nights at each other’s apartments. She insists it’s too soon to move in together. And he’s okay with that since they still sleep together almost every night. They go out clubbing together, dancing exclusively with one another. It’s lewd and he loves how he can openly express his feelings for her.

-

Until one day, there’s a soft knock on his apartment door. The girlfriend answers, and Boris can barely hear the exchange, until she comes skipping back into the living room that there’s somewhere at the door for him. And that itsa guy with redhair looking for him.

Yuriy looks meek and shy, shuffling in his doorway. He can barely make eye contact with Boris. He looks awful, too skinny, and tired, dark bags under his eyes. 

“Hey. You look good.” Yuriy comments, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“You look awful.” Boris replies. “Are you eating right? Sleeping?”

“I’m fine.” Yuriy insists, through a tight forced smile. 

And they talk and its so awkward and forced. The girlfriend comes bouncing back over kisses Boris on the cheek, saying she’ll be back after work, offering Yuriy a smile and saying its nice to meet him.

Yuriy’s face falls and he answers back, “I- ugh didn’t realize that you- I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry. I'm going to go.”

“You came here to talk though-”

“It was a mistake. I should have called first.”

Boris is left confused. Yuriy didn't want this, so he found a relationship elsewhere. How could he be upset? Yuriy goes home and rips apart his room again, punching a hole in his wall in the process. If he had known he wouldn't have gone. He didn't think Boris would have moved on.

-

Yuriy ends up phoning Kai. He’s not sure why. “You offered to hook up before, that offer still available?”

“Sure. I said I'd wine and dine you too, so get dressed up and we’ll get dinner first.” He hangs up before Yuriy can protest. 

Yuriy does not end up getting laid that night. Kai confronts him after dinner, “Sleeping with me would just be a fucked up form of self harm to you at this point. I'm assuming you heard that Boris is seeing someone and that’s why you wanted to meet up.”

“Why agree to take me out to dinner if you werent going to fuck me.” Kai shrugs, “Sergei said you haven’t been eating. Figured I’d at least trick you into getting some food into you. You look like shit.”

Yuriy glares at him, “So i’ve been told already today.”

“I was only half serious when I offered to hook up with you back then. I said it more to piss off Kuznetsov. IF you weren’t doing this as some kind of fucked up punishment, I would take you home.”

Yuriy/’s eyes narrow and he sips at his cocktail, “At least let me get drunk and forget my problems.”

“Gladly.”

Yuriy isn't sure when Kai turned into this caring individual who took care of people, but he finds himself that next morning tucked into his bed, not remembering much of what happened after or even getting home.

-

Months go by, with Yuriy barely taking care of himself. He misses Boris.Misses everything he took for granted.

Yuriy going to Boris and being like I know things are different now, but is there a chance for us to hang out again. So they do a Borg movie night. And Yuriy tries to ignore how Boris sits in a different spot. Swallows down burning feeling in his throat. Boris would always be embarrassingly close when they would watch movies together. Thigh pressed up against Yuriy’s and his arm wrapped around Yuriy’s neck, fingers brushing against his bicep.

Now Boris is five feet away on a different piece of furniture. At least at dinner he sits at his old seat next to Yuriy, and he can relax just a little, feeling comfortable enough to eat. 

Then Sergei is offering coffee and dessert and Boris passes up on the dessert, saying he’s trying to watch his weight and that his girlfriend is such a good cook and a stress baker, and that he’s put on ten pounds since they got together. Offhandedly saying its hard to want to go to the gym in the morning when shes next to him.

And Yuriy excuses himself from the table. He's going to be sick. He locks himself in the bathroom. He can't breathe and he honestly feels like the food he just ate is going to find its way outside of him.

He shoots Sergei a text that he cant do this. He cant he cant he cant. 

Yuriy composes himself the best he can and goes back into the kitchen. Excusing himself that he feels sick. That he ate too much.  He feels his face flush when Ivan even mentions it's nice to see him eat like a normal person for once, but not if he’s getting sick from it.

Yuriy hides himself in his room, and cries. Everything inside of him hurts and it radiates outside of him. He cant hold this inside of him anymore. Crying into his pillow.

His head telling him, he only has himself to blame. He didnt want Boris as a partner, so Boris found one. He did this to himself. If only he stepped up and faced his fears.

-

More time goes by. And more movie nights and game nights, and Boris starts bringing the girlfriend over, and Yuriy wants to hate her, but she is so nice to him, and he feels awful being cold towards her. (Hates seeing her make Boris laugh and happy, but he fights that feeling back). Seeing Boris still hurts, but it gets easier. 

A scene somewhere, where Yuriy is telling Boris, he didn't want things to change, because he didn't want to lose Boris, but it still happened. This wasnt how things were supposed to be. This was supposed to save them. They would always be close, always have each other. He was scared to lose him, and it happened anyway. And he starts crying, he doesn't even feel embarrassed anymore crying, even crying in front of someone.

-

And this is like the turning point, where things start to change and aren’t so sad.

-

Boris and his girlfriend will be cuddling after sex, and of all times to say something, she’s like, “Boris, be honest with me. You love him.”

??

Yuriy, you love him.

Boris is still confused, Yes, I love him and Sergei and Ivan.

Borya. You love him.

I love you, *insert whatever her name will be*

Yes, but not in the way you love him. You love me because of how I am. What I give to you. He couldn't do what I do. 

“He didn’t want this. Want me.” Boris replies.

“I love you Boris, and I know you love me, just not in the way I want you to. You’re the best boyfriend I’ve had, and honestly some of the best sex I’ve had. I care about you so much that I think, though, that we should end this. Go be with Yuriy-

No. He doesn't want me.

I Think that’s changed.

They go back and forth, until she’s like, We don't have to break up. I don't plan on leaving if we do. I just want you to be happy. Boris promises that he will at least talk to Yuriy, and she kisses him on the head, and gets in the shower. 

-

Boris arranges a meeting with Yuriy, who is starting to look human again. THe bags under his eyes are less dark, and his cheekbones aren't threatening to cut through his skin. He seems nervous, his eyes shifting around, like he’s expecting something, and then it dawns on him.

“She’s not here Yura, it’s just us.” Yuriy seems to calm down if only for a minute before the nickname has him looking funny again. Boris hesitates before reaching across the table and grabs for Yuriy’s hand. He’s half expecting Yuriy to retract his hand or pull back

“Can we talk? We haven’t talked in a long time.”

Yuriy nods slowly, looking down at Boris’ hand. 

Boris says that his girlfriend broke up with him, which is the simplest way of putting it, because of Yuriy. That Boris is still in love with Yuriy. He loved the girlfriend, but loved that she did everything he wished Yuriy would have done. That he still wants to be with Yuriy.

Yuriy is too stunned to speak initially and then he’s like, but you two were so happy. 

She called it off, because she knew i was in love with you, and that you were in love with me. She said she couldnt sit back and let that happen. 

-

And then the lord said let there be fluff. They date! Yuriy feels awkward and embarrassed doing PDA. And he’s anxious and nervous that he’ll do something wrong, but Boris is always beaming when Yuriy holds his hand in public, and how proud he is that Yuriy is trying so hard to give him what he wants.

(also the ex-gf does corner him, and is like im happy you two are figuring things out, but if you fuck this up, I’m not going to give him up a second time. And yuriy’s like i don’t plan it.)

—--

[gaps-between-stories]

Fic Preview

A sneak peek at my OFMD/36 Questions AU.

“And I loved who I was with you.”

The more time that passed, the more Stede thought that he might’ve actually escaped his past. After two years of silence, of no attempts to drag him back to New York, or worse, London, he’d thought that they’d finally have a chance. 

“They finally tracked me down after years of running.” First it was the PIs he’d caught lurking in the cul-de-sac, a problem solved quietly with a quick phone call. Izzy had grumbled about sending over Ivan and Fang while still on the clock. 

Ed hadn’t even been in town that weekend. 

After 4 months of hearing nothing else, Stede had naively thought they were in the clear, thought that Ed would never need to know. 

He wouldn’t have, if it weren’t for the next visit 6 months later, this time Chauncey -fucking-Badminton holding Crown papers that he’d torn to shreds. Ed had arrived home just as he was leaving, Stede scrambling for purchase to keep it together under his husband’s questioning. 

That one had been harder to explain away. He’d pulled together some half-baked story about being the beneficiary of his estranged father’s estate, that ‘yes, his father had actually been alive when they first meet,’ but ‘no, I haven't spoken to him in fifteen years,’ and ‘yes, I am certain I was written out of the will,’ and ‘no, none of this effects us, darling, it was the clerical error of an aging family lawyer who should have retired half a decade ago.’ 

Ed hadn’t believed him then. Stede knew he didn’t – Stede knew him better than anyone else, better than himself most days. Edward hadn’t believed him then, but he’d eventually dropped the subject after Stede looked him right in the eyes and lied through his teeth, promising they would be alright. It was a promise he’d had no business making, which he knew then, too, but he was still desperately trying to outpace a live fuse that grew shorter every day. 

“I tried to cling to the life I'd made together with you. So I did the only thing I knew how to: I denied who I was, because I wanted to keep my life, but the better version. Stede – your husband – He was a better person.” 

The final match was struck two weeks later. Edward had opened the door before Stede could get to it, and standing in the doorway was the end of the world – well, the end of Stede’s, anyway. 

“And before I knew what was happening, there was Mary standing at our front door, holding divorce papers, asking you about Stede Bonnet. And I knew instantly.”

She wasn’t even angry. That was the worst part of it all. She stood in that doorway, asking only for her freedom, a second chance at happiness after all of these years. 

“You know, they say before you die your whole life flashes before your very eyes. Well, I can say quite confidently that it didn't the first time. But this time? This time I heard each and every lie I'd ever told you.” Beside him now, Ed’s breath hitched at the memory. 

Stede could remember that day in chilling detail, everything seemingly moving in slow motion. The way that Ed’s knuckles whitened as they gripped the doorknob, the way he slowly turned to look at Stede, chest rising and falling like waves crashing against the hull of a ship. The look on Ed’s face had seared itself into Stede’s memory, haunting him every time he closed his eyes since. 

They’d found themselves sitting in the living room, Ed listening silently as she explained the way her painting career had taken off since finding her painting instructor - her now fiance - a man who made her desperately happy, who the children had taken to like he was their own, who would marry her tomorrow if she’d allow him. That she wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for the small issue of their technically still legal marriage. 

Stede had signed those papers without hesitation.

Much to his relief, they had been more than taken care of financially in his absence, his father allowing them a not insignificant bursary following Stede’s abandonment to keep them quiet about it, followed by a sizable inheritance after his death. 

The children were thriving now, Alma was sharp as a whip and Louis was sweet as can be, all of them having relocated to Toronto to be closer to Doug’s family – ‘they have grandparents now, Stede’ she’d told him. She’d even left a couple of photographs, and an open invitation to call. 

Stede had tried to listen, to focus his attention on the multitude of wonderful news Mary was telling him. But beyond his initial relief that he hadn’t permanently scarred them, he couldn’t truly divert his attention away from the growing angst coming from the corner Edward was sitting in. 

When Mary finally swept out of their door an hour later, leaving the men alone again, the silence between them was suffocating. 

Stede had desperately tried to bridge the divide, ‘please let me explain, my love.’ 

Ed had slowly stood from his seat, and Stede had watched him cross the living room, through the kitchen, into the foyer, wordlessly pocketing his keys and wallet as he went, before walking out the door. 

That was the last time Stede had seen him before this morning. 

Stede would walk that route dozens of times, recreating the path the love of his life took out of his life. 

His words came out in a whisper, now. “I memorized your voice and how you say goodbye. But you never said goodbye –” his voice caught on the words, an accusation, a plea. “You never said goodbye, Edward, and I – I tried desperately to hold on to our life, to who I was with you.

“And I understood that you needed space, time. But you left, Ed, you left and you didn't say goodbye and I waited. I waited. I counted and I waited and you wouldn’t answer your phone and Izzy wouldn’t tell me where you were and it was like I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t – I didn’t – I don’t know how to breathe without you.”

[casspurrjoybell-24]

The Alpha's Boy - Chapter 20 - Part 1

Book Two In : The Alpha's Trilogy

*Warning - Adult Content*

Alistair 'Star' Claymore-Phoenix

'You don't understand... I was asleep... but I... I had a bad nightmare. You don't understand....'

"The only thing I don't understand is why you didn't call me," he was trying to keep his voice hushed, knowing full and well the people he was with could hear us.

I didn't know how to respond to him, with my lips sucked in I turned my gaze away to the dirty alley.

My shoulders shrugged before I turned to look back up at him, looking him in the eyes.

"What did you take?"

'You had pills in your bathroom and I had four other pills off some kids, a few blocks over.'

"How long ago?"

His hand touched my forehead, my brows knitted together for a moment before I signed an hour to him.

'I took the mollies about ten minutes ago... maybe...'

"You don't look well."

He was starting to scare me, my heart raced with the look of confusion on his face.

"Look at me," he said, slapping my face for a moment, it was only then that I realized my gaze was shifting and my eyes were closing, Riot slapped me again, before holding me by the face and forcing my head up while my whole body felt like it was melting.

I went from freezing cold to boiling hot in what felt like seconds.

I opened my mouth and closed it quickly realized that something was coming out, and it wasn't words.

'Star, Alistair... don't... look at me... damnit. Maren, call for help. Someone call for help."

I was confused for another moment before I realized I was being carried, though had no memory of being lifted into the air.

'What the fuck was going on?'

A shiver wracked my body in a moment and I found myself curling up and with the pressure on my stomach, I realized how nauseated I felt.

I wanted to throw up but held it in knowing I was being carried by someone and I'd be damned if I let myself vomit on Riot again.

**********

I must have passed out because when I woke up I felt still and gross that and I was no longer outside in an alley with Riot.

No, now I was inside, in a bedroom I had never seen before.

I brought a hand up to rub my face but paused when I felt something tug.

I looked at my hand and my brows knitted together seeing an IV in the middle of my hand.

I wasn't in a hospital, the room looked almost like a hotel room, besides the IV pole beside the bed and the bed was too soft to be one in a hospital bed.

I couldn't help but notice I was alone in the room and my heart sank, the last thing I could remember was talking to Riot in the alley and he wasn't here.

I was weak and who wanted a mate that was weak.

Nobody wants to be with someone who can't control themselves.

I didn't blame him for not being here, if I was on his side of things I wouldn't be here either.

I started to bite my lips, my hands trembled as I sat up, putting them both in my lap.

Being rejected from your mate wasn't a death sentence if it happened early on.

I've heard stories of people leaving their mates after years together and one or both will go a little crazy at first and you always feel an empty space inside you because you lost a part of your soul.

If your mate dies, like Nana and Miquel, you still go on because though it hurts you so much it wasn't something you could stop but if you lose your mate in a way that my grandfathers did, Marshall being murdered and Rodrick getting no closure.

You go a little mad, things just don't feel right on the inside.

It was difficult and though I felt an ache in my chest, I didn't feel like I was going to die from this.

Though I didn't know for sure that Riot had just rejected me, I couldn't help but draw that concussion, especially with him not being with me right now.

My chest was tight, I didn't want to be alone but this was the price I paid when I picked drugs over the people in my life.

I was going to end up just like Ivan's Uncle, alone, in an alley dying with no one to love you.

Riot would find someone else, they wouldn't fill his soul like I could but he would find someone and I was comforted by that because if I was going out, I wanted him to be happy.

My parents had the twins, though I would be gone, it wouldn't be empty.

Ivan had a mate now, he wouldn't need to have me to talk to, he would have someone else to share his love of the world to now.

I laid my head back, a single tear streaming down my face as I drew my life in my head, my ideas.

The world would be better if I had gone, as dark as a thought that it was.

I wasn't needed, I wanted to pull the IV from my arm and leave this place.

Anywhere was better than here, where ever 'here' was.

Before I could act on the chaotic thoughts that passed, the door opened slowly and three people walked in, two of those people I didn't know.

One of them was Riot and it took everything in me not to sigh in relief upon seeing his face.

It didn't last long though as the two people that joined in closed the door, their faces looking a lot more serious, or at least the man did.

The woman looked like she had just saw a ghost and was about to cry.

My eyes gazed to Riot, looking for any type of answer on his face, he just gave me a soft, albeit weak smile.

"Alister, how are you feeling?" the man asked, he was big, his arms looked like they could pass for tree trunks and he spent his days lifting but his overall appearance didn't scream that, not with a purple polo and blue jeans, a stethoscope around his neck, thick black glasses and brown curly hair.

'I feel confused, honestly,' I signed, Riot repeated what I said in words, translating for the man.

"Understandable. My name is Gregory, I'm a pack doctor here, you're at the pack-house in Banff. Reggie brought you here last night. It appears that you overdosed on some recreational drugs combined with a none prescribed pharmaceutical. You got here just in time honestly and you were very lucky that you had run into Reggie and his friends last night or there would be a high chance you wouldn't be here. You're on fluids right now. We'll give them another hour or two before taking you off them and you should be free to leave."

I nodded, turning my attention to Riot again before looking at the woman.

'Anything else?' I asked, feeling that the woman wasn't there as a helping hand for Dr. Gregory.

The doctor didn't say anything, but the woman shuffled a bit from foot to foot before looking at Riot for a moment.

She turned to me again, her brown eyes looking at my face over a few times.

"My name is Agatha Knyazaeva, or well Agatha Rose now but I was once Knyazaeva. You might not recognize me or the name but my sister was Paulina Knyazaeva-Adams, she was married to Daniel Adams. They were your parents." 

[sunshinerapmonster]

The Saregeant's Daughter - Chapter 21 Jay

"Do you know how much I love and appreciate you babe?"

-

Madeline lay on the bed looking out the window she woke up two hours ago and hadn't said a word at all. The room was silent the only sound that could be heard was the beeping of the machines and the nurses running around the floor. Her father and mother had left the room to get some breakfast, her mother didn't wanna leave her side at all she was forced out of the room by her husband.

"Baby talk to me" I whispered grabbing her hand.

She slowly turned to look at me with sadness, "J-J-Jay" she whimpered.

I sat on her bed and brought her into a tight hug, the once quiet room was now full of her sobs.

I rubbed her back up and down as she cried into my chest.

"Hey Madeline it's okay, you're alright don't have to worry about him ever touching you again. You safe here in my arms now" I said kissing her head.

-

The following day we were back at my apartment, Madeline was still lying in bed she only left the room when she needed to eat or use the bathroom.

I sat on the couch watching some TV when soft footsteps were heard down the hallway. Madeline walked towards me and stood in front of me wearing one of my shirts and some shorts.

"Can we have a movie night?" She asked quietly.

I nodded my head and switched over to Netflix, Madeline took a seat next to me and cuddled up against my chest as I covered us with a blanket.

She picked out some Korean drama I didn't know what she picked out I didn't know my Korean show and celebrity like she does.

I kissed her cheek before I went back to watch the show she picked out.

She started explaining the show that was a supernatural, romance, thriller, or whatever she said.

"Gosh Lee Dong-wook is so hot and he is 40 babe!" She said gushing and blushing.

"Babe! You know your boyfriend is right here you know" I said shaking my head as I laughed at her.

"Okay, but he doesn't know I exist," she said chucking, she leads into my ear and whispered, "Plus he doesn't touch me as you do"

"Of course, he doesn't," I said kissing her lips, "Do you know how much I love and appreciate you babe"

She shook her head, "No why don't you show me" she said licking her lips.

I smirked grabbed her face gently and pressed my lips against her the kiss started slow I could taste the cherry lip balm on her lips. She parted her mouth open and I slid my tongue into her mouth. Her hands pulled my hair. She let out a small moan a smirk formed on my lips and I pulled her closer to my body feeling the kiss.

"Let's take this to the bedroom," she said catching her breath.

"Babe, you need to rest. Let's watch the show okay? I don't wanna force you into anything" I said kissing her lips.

She smiled at me, "You're truly the best thing that has ever happened to me Jay, I thought after my divorce I would never fall in love again, now look at me I'm happy again and in love" she said crying.

"You're the best thing that ever happened in my life as well babe, I love you," I said kissing her lips again.

"So you meant my parents," she said chucking.

"Yeah, I did. I won't lie and tell you they like me or they don't because their attention was on you the whole time but your mother was kind and would send me home to shower, change, and eat" I said nodding my head.

"That's my mother for you"

"I still can't believe she is Hank's sister" I mumbled

Jay Master List

intro 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 Book Two

Jennifer Voight

Ivan Sanchez

Hope you guys liked this chapter I apologize for the chapter being short I tried my best currently having writer's block and also in school and following behind on school work lol.

But the book is also sadly coming to an end 9 more chapters:(:

Love you guys </3

[midnightmisadventures]

Guys i WISH i was joking

But the dreams are all connecting and its getting juicy

Currently in my dream state having the best time ever with Ivan? Who is on this beautiful cruise with my friends and family and we have been so cutesy and getting closer and we were laying together in my bed and he was cuddling w bambi and i pulled out tumblr to tell you all like ahh i love him so much

But again happened so fast, and we were still causally and people were wondering like oh.... you and him? whats happeneing and i was kinda like dont worrry about it. But also telling Lia i think i really like him. He was somehow a friend of the familys like he came with us so everyone knew him

Anyway, he would hold my hand through crowds and move away from other girls to sit next to me, he always rested his hand on my thigh like it was nothing. I was helping him online shop for a laptop on a balcony on the cruise, like over water. And everyone was worried he was gonna drop his current laptop and i ran out there and was being like ivan be so careful omg but i was wearing just a big tshirt and he was in boxers and it felt so cute and carefree and spontaneous. And we were just laughing with eachother and living in the moment.

One time he whisked me through a crowd holding my hands and went to this bar, and like dumped a drink on someone? and then did something else of havoc. It was electric and exciting of course but i was like omg sorry to the people he was randomly messing with.

He was like "so tell me about your family" and it was so cute cause aw he just wanted to know more. And we were laying in bed and i sat up and made sure my booobs were in frame cause i wanted to be hot.

Then i almost pissed myself. not elaborating iykyk

Thennnn, it took a turn. I was back on the balcony with him and his brothers? and his brothers friends? some group of guys came out and started harrassing him like "hey wheres our money, arent you supposed to pay us" and then they all (3 of them probably) tied him up and CHAINED HIM to the inside of the ship railing. And behind me were these metal bats, and the one guy was like "scuse me mylady" grabbed a metal bat from behind my chair. And they started BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF HIM

So obviously im freaking out, but theres no much i can do. He's screaming in pain. 2 of them have baseball bats and the other had a weight for lifting and was just dropping it on his chest. And i thought it would be over soon so when it was lasting long i finally shouted like "why are you doing this, why does he deserve this, what did he do" and the brother was like "he didnt pay us our spending money" like they just make him give them money for no reason. So then they were finished and he was bloody and in agony. And i didnt know what to do, i was genuinely scared of those guys. I didnt want them to touch me if i got close to ivan and ivan was in no place to protect me physically. So i ran away to get first aid, help, bandages, alcohol anything.

SO im running, there was one other girl who witnessed from afar which helped, so she could help me explain to people more calmly wht happened. I was desparetely looking for anything to help, trying to find a first aid kit.

But then, he couldnt find me? he was looking for me. it was this whole thing. I went back to my room and erikka said he got me this stuffed animal. It was this cutest softest green bear and i was like omg! It made me so emo that he went to the like the cruise gift shop and got me something but also, why is he the one giving me a gift??

Finally i find him and he's laying down in pain. And I start hugging him, im crying, like does it hurt too bad for me to hug? and he was like its....just excruciating i cant tell the difference so keep hugging. And i asked him 1-10, if he had pain killers etc. And i was just holding him and then i tried to make him laugh and it worked and i was so happy

I was like oh okay so ill just take a bunch of roids and beat them up myself. And he thought that was so funny. Only include that detail bc....well Liam.

Ummm. There was more, its a very detailed saga but i thought id just give you the main updates

[inflammatory]

My Repin propaganda:

It’s actually a nice detail that this matchup was posted today considering it’s Ukraine’s independence day; [1] for context (that I regrettably didn’t add when I submitted), the Cossacks composed the “reply” in question to the Sultan Mehmed IV’s demand that they surrender, despite the fact that the Cossacks had just wiped out the entirety of one of the Sultan’s Janissary forces. [2]

So, in high spirits from victory, the leaders of the Cossacks got together and co-wrote a vulgar letter to tell him to sod off, which is the subject that Repin chose to paint. The detail is enough to keep you absorbed for ages:

The dog in the lower left corner disgruntled at all the noise, the Cossack in a white coat turned away to assess newcomers, from the main version alone. The blue of the distant horizon is so beautiful it wounds me. It’s in harmony with the smoke from their pipes and cigars (and a vessel that I can’t really identify).

If you read the Wikipedia page, there’s a very charming compilation of all the models with their bios. For example, the man penning the letter is Dmytro Yavornytsky, the historian and archaeologist who helped Repin depict the scene with historical accuracy. There’s a man he chanced upon at Alexandrovsk pier and captured studies of, and Kuznetsov the battle painter, and Glinka’s nephew, and the man with a “makitra” bowl cut, beside the serious man in yellow — who Repin never saw in real life. He was a student who had to leave the Academy of Arts because of his illness. They took a gypsum mask of his face and Repin referred to it. While they were taking the mask the young man smiled, and left a smile in the gypsum, a smile that carried all the way to Repin’s Reply. [3]

He also made several versions apart from the main one above, which I think should be accounted for; Repin’s process itself is the masterwork to me. Many drafts stand as whole works on their own, as they’re all complete with stunning grounding detail:

From a preliminary sketch [4] that is just as lovely. Repin is incredible at capturing fine human emotions (as evinced in the sublime horror of Ivan the Terrible and his Son Ivan), and he is just so good at laughter. You can almost feel the laughter from all the way deep in the man’s chest, or feel it wrack the second man until he’s wheezing.

From [2]: “That Zaporozhian legacy is very much alive today. Modern Ukrainians accord their Zaporozhian forebears pride of place in the nation’s history and culture. It’s a heritage which helps to explain how - right now, in the face of overwhelming odds - Ukrainian people up and down the country are displaying an almost inconceivable bravery on the battlefield.”

Dewar’s piece on the painting details virtually all the historical background you could want, with the gore and tragedy that you might not get from Repin’s painting. But despite the distance between now and the 1600s, the message of independence is very relevant:

A reenactment by Ukrainian soldiers. [5] Vote Repin!! Happy Ukrainian Independence!!!

[1] Åslund, A. (2009). How Ukraine Became a Market Economy and Democracy, Peterson Institute for International Economics, ISBN 978-0-88132-427-3 (page 185)

[2] Dewar, A. (2022). Ukraine’s Zaporozhian Cossacks.

[3] Wikipedia. (n.d.). Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks, Models. Accessed 24 August 2023.

[4] Repin, I. (1880-1890). Sketch for Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks. Place: Tretyakov Gallery.

[5] u/thewyspa (2022). Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks. In r/ukraine. Can’t find a more original source so Reddit will have to do. Accessed 24 August 2023.

SET FOURTEEN - ROUND ONE - MATCH SEVEN

"Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks" (1880–1891 - Ilya Repin) / "Garden of Earthly Delights" (1490-1510 - Hieronymus Bosch)

REPLY OF THE ZAPOROZHIAN COSSACKS: Uuuuuuooo I’m pretty sure somebody has submitted the world famous Repin with the fella holding his dead son, and yeah that one is truly harrowing and I think it should be in the final bracket cause it would sweep but Repin has such a range and it’s all very deeply felt and sensitive stuff. For this one he did a couple of versions - you could pick either because they’re both rich in a really immediate sense of humanity. Again on the technical side this is a truly bonkers piece of work because he stitched its elements together from countless studies of people he knew and the result is still somehow a Realist masterpiece rather than the patchwork amalgamation you’d expect.

And each figure isn’t just irresistibly human - he gives all of them so much tangible warmth (the riotous laughter! The attention paid to detail in their clothes! The irritated dog in the bottom left corner) and the fact that theyre all his friends and colleagues is really charming. Dunno if its like “molten lava” kind of evocation of emotion but it certainly makes me feel something. ( @idiotpalespiral )

GARDEN OF EARTHLY DELIGHTS: think it's one of the greatest odes to human imagination and it's insane that it was painted around 1500. it's hard to overstate how innovate and unique bosch's art is. besides, he probably hadn't even ever taken acid in his life, so i don't know how he did that (@cuties-in-codices)

(The "Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks" is an oil on canvas painting by Ukranian born Russian artist Ilya Repin. A large number of the "Cossacks" are modelled after either friends of Repin or people he saw around him, including the bald head belonging to the Grand Chamberlain of the court of the Russian Emperor who declined to be added and Repin painted in anyway. This painting measures 203 cm × 358 cm (80 in × 141 in) and is located at the State Russian Museum in Saint Petersburg. The submitter originally submitted the preliminary version of the piece.

"The Garden of Earthly Delights" is a triptych oil painting by Hieronymus Bosch. It measures 205.5 cm × 384.9 cm (81 in × 152 in) and is located in the Museo del Prado, Madrid.)