#sure he would use us to put down uprisings by people we had more in common with than the french. but. he did fight *our* enemies so...

[anghraine]

Okay, so this is the Tarsus IV post I vaguely threatened alluded to a few days ago. I wrote most of it before last night's grumbling about movie Kirk, btw, so it's not a result of that; I was already thinking about what we know about Kirk and the Tarsus IV massacre from TOS, and what speculations and headcanons make the most sense to me in the context of TOS. I just waited until today to post it because I wasn't quite done yesterday.

Anyway, I was going over the finer details of "The Conscience of the King" to figure this out, and ended up with a ton of thoughts about the Tarsus IV backstory. So here are my (many) personal takeaways:

Firstly, there's a vague reference to some kind of local coup or uprising that put Governor Kodos in power, I think shortly before the food supply crisis. We don't get any details about the uprising from TOS, though the next to last version of the episode's script did mention Kodos setting himself up as a messianic figure once the coup succeeded. In any case, his power grab was certainly reinforced by the starvation crisis, as revealed by Spock's research:

"there were over eight thousand colonists and virtually no food. And that was when Governor Kodos seized full power and declared emergency martial law."

As far as we know in TOS, the crisis was set off by chance: an exotic fungus happened to destroy most of the colony's food supply, and it wasn't clear when relief would arrive. In fact, the Federation did send relief to the colony, per their usual practice, but it took them long enough to get there that the situation had become dire by then. Nearly all food was gone and the colonists were starving; the episode implies that some had even started committing suicide. Nevertheless, the Federation relief force arrived sooner than expected.

Kodos tries to argue in "The Conscience of the King" that the Federation's relief showing up so soon was just luck and he couldn't have guessed it would happen. But given what we know about the Federation as an institution, and given the urgent pressure the Federation puts on the Enterprise crew in multiple episodes to get food/supplies/medicine to some colony or another, it seems like there is a pretty competent, long-established Federation infrastructure for addressing crises like this. In reality, Kodos used the circumstances to justify something he already believed in and wanted to try implementing.

That thing was eugenics. This isn't ambiguous; the aired episode explicitly describes his atrocities as based on eugenics. The starvation of the colony gave Kodos the opportunity to put his theories into action.

He declared that half the colony would be executed, and the remaining food distributed among the other half. Moreover, the assignment of each colonist to either group was determined by Kodos's conception and judgment of genetic superiority. The genetically inferior half of the population, according to Kodos, was executed, and the genetically superior survivors (again, according to Kodos) were given all the food supplies. Kodos's exact words at the time to those slated to die included these lines:

"Your continued existence represents a threat to the well-being of society. Your lives mean slow death to the more valued members of the colony."

Kirk says of Kodos's full speech to those chosen for death:

"I remember the words. I wrote them down. [...] Are you sure you didn't act this role out in front of a captive audience whom you blasted out of existence without mercy?"

In the episode, Spock condemns Kodos in similar terms as "without mercy" and "ruthless," and is clearly horrified by what he's discovered:

"Children watching their parents die. Whole families destroyed. Over four thousand people. They died quickly, without pain, but they died."

The means by which Kodos had thousands of civilians killed isn't stated in the episode. As we see in the above quote, though, it seems to have been done very rapidly.

In an earlier draft, there's mention of some kind of re-purposed anti-matter chamber as the mechanism, and Kodos deliberately "sparing" Kirk while making him watch as the chamber switch was flipped. In that version, Kirk seems to be personally targeted for some reason, where in the episode as it is, he's just one of several random eyewitnesses who survived. I personally prefer the episode's version, which I think better fits a narrative around a mass-scale atrocity.

Anyway, there's another take on the massacre where the thousands of civilians slated for execution were gunned down with phasers, but I find that more difficult to reconcile with Spock's description, which sounds more mechanized and efficient to me. I do think there's reason to believe phasers or some other form of advanced weaponry did get used in the course of events, but not in the executions—more on that later.

As I mentioned in my poll, Kirk is established in TOS as being only 33 during "The Conscience of the King," and thus was only 13 when he personally saw all this (the episode repeatedly insists the atrocity took place exactly twenty years earlier—I think the emphasis on this time gap is important). There is no explanation in TOS of why 13-year-old Kirk seems to be the only member of his family who was present for this—and certainly the only one of the Kirks to personally see Kodos—though earlier drafts do have various explanations that make sense.

For instance, there was an idea floating around the drafting process that Kirk might have been a young midshipman stationed on Tarsus IV during the massacre, not a child. His exact age in TOS was up in the air until the second season explicitly established his then-current age as 34. So that idea is not at all canon, but did internally make sense, since there'd be no reason for his relatives to be posted with him.

There's also a fairly late script in which Kirk's father was among those killed. I believe Kirk Sr was already envisioned as a Starfleet officer at that point, and had been assigned to a post on Tarsus IV some time earlier, which is how a boy born in the Midwest ended up living in a remote colony as a child. However, as I understand, the writers were forced to remove the reference to Kirk's father getting killed because higher-ups didn't want to nail down Kirk's history too much in S1, in case they later wanted to take his family in a different direction.

IIRC, TOS never did do anything with Kirk's parents and we're never even told in the show if they're currently alive or dead, much less told anything about their roles during the massacre. His brother Sam Kirk was envisioned as 10 years older than James (I think the new shows shrink this, but that's irrelevant to the TOS production process), so it also made sense that Sam wasn't there, since he'd have been in his 20s and early in his own career elsewhere. (Sam and his family are mentioned in both earlier and later S1 episodes, so "they hadn't invented him yet" isn't the reason for his absence.)

Beyond all that, another detail I find interesting is that Kodos's speech announcing the impending massacre is preserved in some kind of audio file that Kirk has access to on the Enterprise. Kirk gives "Karidian" a copy of the exact words of this speech and orders him to read it aloud, and has the computers run a vocal comparison between that reading and the original recording. The computer analysis strongly indicates that both speeches were delivered by the same person, but lacks 100% certainty—perhaps due to vocal changes over the last 20 years, perhaps to a difference in the quality of the recordings or some other reason.

However, we don't actually know who recorded the original speech; since so few survivors ever got near enough to even see or hear Kodos in person, maybe the recording was done by Kodos himself or one of his people, and recovered later by Starfleet. The speech only addresses the colonists slated for death, suggesting that the 4000 chosen for survival had already been separated out. But it's possible that it was one or more of the colonists themselves who managed to record the speech.

Only nine of the survivors ever personally set eyes on Kodos (this seems to again imply that those selected for survival were mainly not present during the speech). There's a preserved photograph of him from that era, but that's all, and one of the reasons he's able to evade discovery for so long is because of the vanishingly few people involved who had ever seen him—this is not only canon but a major plot point in "The Conscience of the King."

I read on the wiki that there's a book about the whole thing, and in that version, Kirk never actually saw Kodos and just found a picture in a database, which honestly I think is stupid as fuck and makes no sense in terms of the episode as written (though very typical of corporate franchises watering down the horror of some element of an original, less sanitized story in later byproducts). In "The Conscience of the King," though, Leighton, Kirk, and Riley are explicitly stated to be among the nine survivors who saw Kodos personally.

It's never explained why they were among this small group of eyewitnesses, especially considering that Kirk and Riley would have been children at the time and Leighton was quite young.

Another intriguing data point is the fact that half of Leighton's face is very heavily damaged, and it does seem strongly indicated that this happened during the massacre. We don't know why, though, or how old he even was at the time—he seems older than 33-year-old Kirk, but they're good friends and rough contemporaries, so not that far apart in age.

There's also some interesting phrasing in the episode:

"There were nine eyewitnesses who survived the massacre, who'd actually seen Kodos with their own eyes. Jim Kirk was one of them."

This description is also from Spock after his research dive, someone unlikely to be loose with his phrasing. The general assumption, I think, is that the nine eyewitnesses (who I'm going to call the Tarsus Nine for convenience) were among those chosen for survival for eugenics purposes. The reason such a small number of them had ever seen Kodos is, presumably, that most people who'd seen him were deliberately assigned to the genetically unworthy group and killed. The Tarsus Nine were just the tiny fraction who flew under the radar.

That was my original impression, and it is possible, but there were some things I found puzzling about that scenario. For one, if the Tarsus Nine were separated with the other survivors, why are they persistently presented as the only eyewitnesses? If Leighton was separated into the survivor group, why was his face so heavily damaged in all this? Did he try to fight? Would he have been spared from death if he did? And the episode is clear that Leighton, Kirk, and Riley all heard Kodos's speech and witnessed the massacre in person.

Leighton:

"I remember him. That voice. The bloody thing he did [...] Jim, Jim, I need your help. There were only eight or nine of us who actually saw Kodos. I was one, you were another."

Kirk:

"But I remember. [...] I remember the words. I wrote them down. [...] All I understand is that four thousand people were needlessly butchered. [...] I saw him once, twenty years ago. Men change. Memory changes."

Riley:

"He murdered my father, and my mother. I know that voice, that face, I know it. I saw it. He murdered them."

I had been considering possible explanations for the uniqueness of these nine people as the only direct eyewitnesses among some 4000 survivors + the fact that the three eyewitnesses we meet would have been so young at the time (and Spock talks specifically of children seeing their parents die) + Kirk saying he remembers hearing the speech and that he only ever saw Kodos that one time + the Tarsus Nine knowing that nobody left alive except themselves saw Kodos as governor + their very accurate estimates of how many eyewitnesses survived + Leighton's facial scars.

And then I tripped over an ancient post (on livejournal of all things—I was linked to a post unrelated to the massacre and then followed another link) that collected some of the relevant Tarsus IV quotes and offered a very simple and elegant solution.

What if the Tarsus Nine weren't assigned to the "genetically more valuable" group? What if Kirk, Riley, Leighton, and the other six were in fact considered genetically unworthy and assigned to the group slated for death? What if they're the only direct eyewitnesses because everyone else was either removed from the massacre (and never saw the speech) or killed, and that's why there are so few of them?

me: oh damn, I didn't think about that and ... whoa, I don't think the episode ever does say what group they were actually assigned to. It's possible. Holy shit.

So, here's an alternate possibility/headcanon:

4000-odd colonists including the Tarsus Nine were gathered without any knowledge of the intended massacre. They didn't know where the other colonists were or what was going on beyond starvation and martial law. None of them had ever personally seen their reclusive governor. They were just waiting with their families to find out what was going on. Kodos came out to speak to them, at last, and delivered his speech to those slated for death (hence Kirk saying in TOS that he only ever saw him once, 20 years earlier). The "survival" group didn't hear it and never saw him. But Kirk, Leighton, and Riley did—because they were supposed to die.

Kodos's description of 33-year-old Kirk is, uh, let's say intriguing in that context:

"Here you stand, the perfect symbol of our technical society. Mechanized, electronized, and not very human. You've done away with humanity, the striving of man to achieve greatness through his own resources."

Kodos's murderous daughter Lenore, similarly, says:

LENORE: Are you like that, Captain? All this power at your command, yet the decisions that you have to make— KIRK: Come from a very human source. LENORE: Are you, Captain? Human?

It's likely that these colonists and other residents didn't all go meekly to their entirely unexpected deaths. If we go with the concept of Kirk's father as a Starfleet officer serving on a post on the colony, some of these people were in Starfleet and might well have still had weaponry of some kind. They were just as hungry as the rest, but I suspect would have fought to the death against an undisguised atrocity. I think others also would have fought back against Kodos's people, despite being starved and much less well-armed (if armed at all).

In all probability, none of them expected to win, but hoped to buy time for others, especially their children, to escape (hence the conspicuous youth of the eyewitnesses). The resisting residents would have been massacred by Kodos's troops as he took control of the situation, even before thousands of more people were sent to their executions, but I imagine this resistance created enough havoc for nine children and young adults to escape with their lives (Leighton's face getting seared in the process—perhaps by a phaser set to kill that barely missed him).

Most of the literal children among the Tarsus Nine had seen their parents killed as Kodos's people took control, as had other children who didn't survive (hence Spock's description of children watching parents die and of the nine eyewitnesses directly surviving a massacre). The Tarsus Nine may have seen the other colonists forced into the execution mechanism, whatever it was, either during their escape or if any snuck out afterwards to see. Regardless, I headcanon that the Tarsus Nine found each other and hid out together (I'm assuming they ended up cooperating because they're so accurate about just how many of them there were and because I'm guessing literal children wouldn't have survived alone).

We don't know a whole lot about what was going on psychologically with them at the time. But something else I've been thinking about is the interesting ambiguity in Kirk's statement to Kodos about the original genocide speech. Kirk says, "I remember the words. I wrote them down," which seems a reference to Kirk writing the speech down during the episode to force Kodos to read it. However, something I find fascinating there (/Spock fistbump) is that Kirk's statement that he himself wrote down the speech follows so directly from "I remember the words."

I think the implication is that he wrote down the exact words of the speech from memory (indicating that Kodos's genocide announcement that Kirk heard at age 13 is still seared into his mind). Or possibly, the causality is reversed: he perfectly remembers Kodos's speech because he wrote it down at some point in the past (likely not long after surviving the massacre). The former seems a bit more probable to me, but either case would suggest quite a lot about how deeply this affected him.

But whatever the Tarsus Nine were up to, they lasted long enough for Starfleet to arrive and take charge of the situation. We don't know the details of how that happened from TOS, either, though the fact that Kodos got the hell out of Dodge and left a burned body to be misidentified as him suggests that it was obvious enough what Starfleet's arrival was going to mean well before any fighting began.

Afterwards, well ... some of the Tarsus Nine maintained ties, for sure. Kirk and Leighton seem to be trusting friends; they address each other by familiar nicknames, Kirk knows Leighton's wife, and he regards Leighton's deception as something of a personal betrayal. Kirk is a bit vague on Leighton's professional life and dismisses his suspicions at first, so I don't think they're super close, but it's a trusting and familiar relationship in general.

Meanwhile, others among them lost contact. Kirk clearly has no idea that the Lieutenant Riley he knows on the Enterprise was a little boy among the other eyewitnesses, which seems probable enough. Riley likely ended up with caretakers who wouldn't have been all that keen on him being reminded of the horrific trauma he'd experienced. Him ending up on the Enterprise by sheer chance is a hell of a coincidence, but that's not unusual for Star Trek, let's be real.

A minor point: I'm guessing Sam Kirk had a hell of a week as the information about what was happening on Tarsus IV leaked out. I'm guessing from the outside, there'd be the official alert of the food crisis -> the colony's communications going dark -> Starfleet arriving and discovering what had happened -> their updates as they searched for survivors and those responsible -> their reports of finding the 4000 chosen for survival and the Tarsus Nine.

Moving forwards chronologically, we don't know that much about the longer-term effects on the Tarsus Nine apart from Kirk, though Riley is clearly haunted to some extent. Thomas Leighton has a respectable career, though his wife says after his death:

"At least he has peace now. He never really had that before."

As for Kirk, I think the next "version" of Kirk we know anything about via TOS is him as a very young man at Starfleet Academy. This Kirk is repeatedly described as bookish and solemn. In "Shore Leave" (which follows very shortly after "The Conscience of the King," though it's far lighter), we get this exchange:

KIRK: I know the feeling very well. I had it at the Academy. An upperclassman there. One practical joke after another, and always on me. My own personal devil. A guy by the name of Finnegan. MCCOY: And you being the very serious young— KIRK: Serious? I'll make a confession, Bones. I was absolutely grim.

Yeah, I wonder why.

Even as late as his time as an instructor at the Academy, when he was Lieutenant Kirk, he seems pretty recognizably "that" Kirk. He taught a notoriously challenging class (the subject not stated, but implied to be philosophy) and was known as a demanding teacher. In "Where No Man Has Gone Before," his friend and former student Gary Mitchell says:

"Well, I'm getting a chance to read some of that longhair stuff you like. Hey man, I remember you back at the Academy. A stack of books with legs. The first thing I ever heard from an upperclassman was, watch out for Lieutenant Kirk. In his class, you either think or sink."

Mitchell jokes about how he only passed by orchestrating the campaign of a "little blonde lab technician" to distract Kirk from his usual severity. And even this was not a fling; Kirk's relationship with the lab technician reached the point that he almost married her. So even that suggests someone who was taking every part of his life deadly seriously.

The personable, dutiful-but-easy-going charm and good humor of Kirk in much of TOS seems to not have been much in evidence for many, many years of Kirk's life. And even by the time we meet him, this runs much less deep than his powerful sense of responsibility and his commitment to the ideals of the Federation and his own philosophical convictions. We often see his outwards charm switch off like a light when it doesn't serve his purposes.

This is especially apparent in "The Conscience of the King" itself, which includes one of Kirk's most cold-blooded charm offensives—he can't immediately reach Kodos, so instead he deliberately charms Kodos's nineteen-year-old daughter Lenore in order to dig up information on him (not realizing Lenore herself is a murderer). There is a chasm between this calculated charm and his manner when he finds Kodos and drops the front:

The last thing I wanted to say about "The Conscience of the King" and this particular backstory for Kirk is that, after all of this, what exactly is the point of the backstory revealed in this episode? It's Star Trek, there usually is one, even when it's executed badly or clumsily. What is it gesturing at?

There's a repeated emphasis on the twenty years between the present moment and Kodos's atrocity. He is now an old man living a normal life, and doesn't seem to be a particular threat to anyone. One of the major subplots involves Spock trying to figure out what the hell happened twenty years earlier, then trying to convince McCoy of the threat, then Kirk and Spock and McCoy having this fraught discussion about it.

Spock is not dispassionate; he is horrified by both the past atrocity and current threat to Kirk, and quickly reaches a point of certainty about Karidian's/Kodos's identity and what should be done about him. Kirk is more anxious and unsure about getting it wrong and about his own motives, despite simultaneously wanting to just kill this guy on the spot. McCoy doesn't want to believe at pretty much every turn, and even when he does, is wary of acting out of potentially questionable motives so long after the fact. It leads to this great scene between all three:

SPOCK: Why do you invite death? KIRK: I'm not. I'm interested in justice. MCCOY: Are you? Are you sure it's not vengeance? KIRK: No, I'm not sure. I wish I was. I've done things I've never done before. I've placed my command in jeopardy. From here on I've got to determine whether or not Karidian is Kodos. SPOCK: He is. KIRK: You sound certain. I wish I could be. Before I accuse a man of that, I've got to be. I saw him once, twenty years ago. Men change. Memory changes. Look at him now, he's an actor. He can change his appearance. No. Logic is not enough. I've got to feel my way, make absolutely sure. MCCOY: What if you decide he is Kodos? What then? Do you play God, carry his head through the corridors in triumph? That won't bring back the dead, Jim. KIRK: No, but they may rest easier.

Of course, the matter of "oh hey, we keep finding elderly people who committed atrocities some 20 years ago and we've got to navigate how to deal with them now in a way that honors their victims" was not at all metaphorical at the time. In the 60s, the architects of atrocities who made their escape twenty years earlier and were discovered as ostensibly normal aging people were just literal Nazis.

While the Tarsus IV massacre is on a much smaller scale, obviously, Erin Horáková has a good explanation of the topicality here:

In “The Conscience of the King”, we learn that Kirk is a survivor of a colony-world genocide that occurred during his childhood. As an adult, Kirk attempts to determine whether an old man, now an actor, is actually Kodos, the mass murderer who perpetrated this genocide. “Conscience” is a complex, shifting episode made in the wake of the arrest of aged Nazis in South America by Mossad agents (again, it’s subtextually important to this episode that Kirk is played by a Jewish actor).

For further context, plenty of people involved in TOS had themselves fought in WWII, so "what do we do about elderly Nazis" was not a distant issue. Also, while Roddenberry himself was unfortunately antisemitic (a quality presumably related to "Patterns of Force" ever seeing the light of day), there were a lot of Jewish people working behind and in front of the camera on TOS, most famously including both William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy (both are/were Jewish actors from Jewish communities, though this tends to be much more present for many fans with Nimoy—it's hard not to think that is at least partly related to their physical appearances). So the whole premise is complex and fraught in real world terms, as well, which I felt was also worth mentioning as a significant element of what's going on here.

[cheshirebitch]

Here me outtttttttt, Alastor or Lucifer (your choice) with a reader who has dabi’s power from MHA🫢

This actually sounded so good that I HAD to immediately put this power with Lucifer. I love that depressed duck man. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

𝔹𝕦𝕣𝕟 𝕄𝕖 𝔹𝕒𝕓𝕪

Lucifer x Reader (with Dabi’s powers)

As an overlord, you become used to people offering to team up with you, threats and attacks, and finding people to make contracts with. I normally was categorized as one of the “better” ones to have your soul sold to, unlike the Vee’s. Alastor was the one below me, but still wasn’t the best with how he treated his poor souls under his contract. What really scared people was when they heard why I was in hell instead of heaven with how I treated other souls here.

I died in an ironic way, burning from my own arson. My abuser was caught with another victim, but didn’t face any consequences for his actions. Therefore, I made sure he did by burning his home down while he was sleeping in it. I knew I would face murder charges and never see the sun again, so I burned inside with him, holding the door shut to the bedroom after nailing his windows shut. Due to my arson crime, I was sent to hell with the “gift” of blue flame. It looked beautiful but burned anyone who came too close. I was currently in a meeting with the overlords, playing with my blue flames on my fingers when Valentino came up to me, Lucifer watching from behind.

“So, how much did you say for Angel Dust’s soul?” His shit eating grin sparkling with the golden tooth. A polite smile twitched before I calmly responded.

”I would like to simply have his contract under myself instead of you with a buy-out price of the soul of Velvette’s.” I smiled with lidded eyes watching his cocky attitude melt away. All he knew was that I was interested in buying Angel Dust’s soul from him, never knew with what.

“Velvette didn’t sell her soul?” He sounded unsure as he glanced over my shoulder to Vox and Velvette waiting by the door to leave.

”You really think she had those powers when she came down here a couple years ago? You really are foolish.” I went to turn around, making Valentino panic. He gripped my arm, burning his hand instantly with my blue flame. My eyes were glowing an electric blue as the blue flames replaced my hair, flickering in the air. Valentino pulled back, holding his hand and looking in fear. He immediately fixed his tone, switching to an angry one.

“You bitch!” I was quickly losing my temper with how he was acting. If I slipped up and let my anger take over, I was doomed to explode blue flames everywhere. Lucifer was watching still from behind Valentino, ready to step in if I looked any more agitated than I already was.

“Do we have a deal or not, Valentino?” I stressed with my eyes and hair a flaming blue, the King of Hell already cutting off his current conversation. Valentino looked like he was actually considering taking my offer but was still angry with my skin burning him.

“Fine, I will release Angel Dust under you if you release Velvette to me.” My hand stuck out quickly in front of him and I made sure to burn his hand again, scarring one of his fingers as a reminder of this deal. Permanently burned into his memory that I was not a friend but an enemy that will always have the upper hand. Lucifer was by my side watching Valentino shake his hand violently in pain, hissing out curses. Vox and Velvette also joined, Vox aggressively inspecting his hand.

“What did you do?” Velvette started accusing me, pointing a finger in my face.

“We traded you.” I spoke simply as Lucifer caught up on what was going on.

I met Lucifer two weeks ago, outside of the professional setting, when Charlie and Vaggie asked for my help on something. They were referred to me by Alastor and Rosie, saying I was the only one with the power to get Angel Dust out of his abusive contract with the Vee’s. Lucifer had the power too, but it would cause an uprising. Of course I agreed for many reasons. But, it also got me involved in her hotel idea. I didn’t mind at all since it got me to become closer to Lucifer, even though we only met outside of meetings a couple times now.

“Who did you trade Val?” Vox grabbed his shoulders, getting in his face while his voice distorted with his anger. Lucifer glanced at me, silently approving of the accomplishment for his daughter.

“Listen, what’s done is done. You can’t undo it and it was his choice. If you have a problem, handle it outside of here.” He ushered the rest of the overlords out of the meeting room, shutting the door with both of us still inside. I took a couple deep breaths knowing I needed to calm down before I blew a fuse, literally.

”Did you get it?” Lucifer turned around, taking long strides to close the distance between us. He was smiling excitedly, enough that I felt like his eyes were stars. My laugh slipped out before I look at him, feeling comfortable.

”Did you doubt me? Of course I have his contract now. It cost me one of my upper hands over the Vee’s but anything is worth it for your daughter and her dream.” I smiled at Lucifer, holding my palm out to show a miniature Angel Dust in my blue flames form. I closed my palm when he leaned in a little too close for my comfort. I didn’t want to burn him.

”I still can’t believe you even had that girl’s soul!” I watched him take off his white hat, placing it calmly onto the table where we all gathered just a few minutes ago. My fingertips glided over the glass top, melting the glass slightly. The feeling of it melting and the smell of char forced my reflexes to kick in, pulling my hand away before I damaged it more. Lucifer, of course, noticed how it was molted now.

“Do you always get hot when you’re mad?” He spoke casually before turning as red as the apple on his hat. Immediately stuttering and waving his hands dismissively, realizing how it sounded. I watched him stutter through an explanation of what he meant with an upside down smile.

”I- uh- I- I didn’t- ha ha- I meant temperature. Anger causes high temperatures.” I laughed, deciding to put him out of his embarrassing misery.

“Thank you and yes.” I flicked my fingers to show the tips of them lit with the blue flame. Lucifer looked enchanted by the flames and before I could stop him, he reached out and touched them with his bare hands. I tried putting my flames out but what I noticed stopped me dead in my tracks.

”Why aren’t you being burnt horrifically?” I watched as my flames licked his skin, not burning it to a crisp. Lucifer watched as his hand held my flame instead. Truly, it astounded me considering no one could handle my flames, absolutely nothing could. What made it worse was trying to keep myself under control as I felt Lucifer’s hands softly graze my own. I didn’t know if it was just the fact that no one else has been able to even touch me without being burned by the heat of my body, the way the flame reflected in his golden and crimson eyes, or maybe it was the way I couldn’t ever keep my eyes off of him in the first place. Especially working with him outside of professional work, I have been able to look at him as more than just someone higher than me.

“It really is a beautiful flame.” His eyes were so enamored by it, he didn’t even get embarrassed or nervous. It was like we both were lost in something truly breathtaking, him with my unique flame and myself with how he looked illuminated by it. Lucifer glanced at me twice before he completely looked away from the blue flame on each of my fingertips. Gentle pale fingers pushed a hair out of my face, blue flames that were pieces of my hair. My hair and eyes were fully enflamed. I was increasing in temperature, which was dangerous considering the last man I thought I could attempt something with, was burned alive after our first kiss.

”You really are something, (Y/n).” He knew the right words to say to win my heart, but the wrong one to not make me burst into complete flames. What surprised me was how he still was able to hold his hand to my cheek.

“Seriously, how are you doing that?” I nervously laughed, awaiting for me to set the King of Hell ablaze.

“What do you mean?” He furrowed his brows, absentmindedly still holding my cheek. I could feel myself burn hotter from it.

”Everyone else who has even stood too close to me when I was like this, were burned to a crisp.” Maybe that was too blunt. Did I just scare him away?

”Wow! Really? That’s actually really interesting. Can you burn hotter?” His eyes were full of curiosity like a child. This man was really crazy if he expected me to try and kill him. I closed my eyes and took a couple deep breaths to extinguish myself.

“Too far?” He laughed nervously, pulling his hand away from me.

“I don’t feel like trying to kill the King of Hell today, I’m sure Alastor would love to do that though.” I teased, attempting to distract the poor thing from being too self conscious. I must’ve hit a nerve though, triggering a rant instead.

”Don’t get me started on that wannabe!” He rolled his eyes and took a couple steps, gaining me the moment and space to clear my thoughts better. Deep breaths, I need to take deep breaths and stop letting a man who probably doesn’t feel the same fluster me like that. I stood up and fixed mty outfit, smoothing my appearance out. By the time Lucifer turned back around, I had myself looking sharp and proper.

“He has been provoking me on purpose! You saw how he acts with Char Char! It’s like he only wants to act like her father figure just to get under my skin.” He ran his hands down his face. Metal glistened in the light, catching my eyes rather efficiently.

Oh. That’s right.

”Speaking of Charlie, I should probably head over to the hotel to pass along the news that I was successful in her request.” Averting my eyes from the man in front of me, I felt the choking reality that he was probably still in love with his extremely long term marriage partner and mother to his only child. I sucked a deep breath in before flashing a small polite smile.

”Oh, yeah. I’m sure she will be excited to hear the news.” I felt the room turn into an uncomfortable atmosphere. I looked at him in pity before sighing and sitting back down.

”Can I ask you a personal question?” I crossed one leg over the other, motioning for him to take a seat.

“uh- sure…?” He sat down, crossing his legs and leaning back fully in the chair. He was rolling up his sleeves then he ran his hands down the arms of the chair before gripping the ends in his hands nervously.

”Why do you still wear the ring? I think we both know she isn’t coming back, sweetheart.” Maybe that was also too blunt but I think he might need a shove into reality. He has been kind of in limbo for seven years. Last I checked, even Charlie had come to terms that her mom wasn’t coming back, at least not any time soon. I have had extensive conversations about it with her, even helping her realize her feelings of abandonment were valid.

“I don’t know.” He looked lost and his fingers traced over the metal, sliding it off. I stuck my hand out and stared at him, not once looking at the metal itself. He held it tighter in his hand before seeming to realize something internally.

”Lucifer, you need to let go at least enough to take care of yourself. It really isn’t healthy to hold on to something that is only causing pain and misery, now is it?” He looked defensive at first before blinking it away, replacing it with defeat and placing the ring in my hand. It instantly melted to liquid before I delicately morphed it into an “L” pendant with a thin chain. I may have helped him make the first step, but I wasn’t about to get rid of something so familiar to him. He would have to make that decision himself one day, I just nudged him in the right direction. Especially if he is still in deep love with her.

”I can give it to Charlie, see what she thinks the ‘L’ stands for. If she chooses me, that’s great, but if she chooses her mother, that’s also great that she can find it in herself to forgive her.” He hesitated, holding the chain.

”I don’t think I can ever forgive her for it, nor want to.” His eyes looked back up to mine, holding the gaze as he whispers, “I’m actually okay with her being gone now.” My brows furrowed as I waited for him to elaborate.

”I would’ve never had the chance to notice a beautifully complicated woman.” I felt my face burn, along with my whole body. I couldn’t control the high temperature and involuntarily burnt the chair completely before I was able to put myself out.

“I’m sorry, I can get a new chair!”

(As always, characters belong to their owner and the story belongs to me. If you have any requests or ideas, send them over :)! I will gladly try to write things for my supporters! Thank you for the love and have a great day <3!)

[lemariee]

Chapter 26

The sounds of enthusiastic cheers shook Gerda out of her pondering thoughts. She glanced around noticing a group of fey and humans drinking out of a large horned cup. It was obvious the crowd would soon be drunk, something she wasn't fond of.

She peeked over to Borra when she noticed movement in the corner of her eye.

Maleficent's hands slithered down his chest towards his abdomen in a suggestive motion. Borra appeared to be enchanted by her seductive behavior. His attention flickered down to the witch with darkened amber eyes, a color he often would have when he was near Gerda. It was strange seeing him eye Maleficent with that precise pigment in his gaze. Maleficent then softly grabbed his hands and lured him towards the crowd who was starting to dance.

Gerda let her guard drop feeling the tension in her body release. Shortly after, Percival and Shrike headed off towards the middle of the hall where other fey creatures swayed around. The tribal movements reminded Gerda of wildlife. Her observation was interrupted by Celtra handing her a mug of water. She eagerly sipped out the mug ignoring the aching hunger that tugged at her stomach. Celtra stood aside misplaced in her thoughts.

"Are you going to join them or did Borra once again leave you with the burden of monitoring me?" Gerda boredly asked, yearning to have a taste of the meats, cheeses, and fresh bread that remained out.

"Just like you, I find myself somewhat uncomfortable around our special guests. Maleficent and Percival aren't too fond of me at the moment." Celtra admitted with her gaze focused on the dancing fey who drunkenly bounced around.

"Why the discomfort? You seemed to be on decent terms with Maleficent the last time you spoke to her." Gerda replied eager for Celtra's response.

"Let's just say that they question my suggestions when it comes to finding archers even though we are facing new threats on our people. They ignore the fact that we are desperate and cannot chance any more loss. We need to consider all options...even ones that are a risk." Celtra admitted with dismay shading her voice.

Gerda set her mug on the floor, growing more interested in their conversation. She wondered just how bad things were and why Celtra was letting her in on such information. Being Borra's slave meant that Gerda was to have no part in their affairs. It had to be forbidden for anyone to speak to her about matters that did not concern her. Celtra was putting far too much trust in her.

"Threats? I was under the impression that Borra had everything under control. From my perspective, it appeared that life in both the Moors and Ulstead was prospering." Gerda said taking pride in knowing that both kingdoms were undergoing their inconveniences.

"Just like any other kingdom, there will always be those who oppose change. Some will resort to uprisings against those who threaten what they believe is right. Until recently, that was only one concern we faced. Now there is a much more worrying danger that requires immediate action." Celtra stressed with genuine concern in her eyes.

Celtra took in Gerda's confusion with hesitation almost as if she was having a debate within her mind. She carefully glanced around making sure no one was within earshot before sighing and continuing with her words.

"There is so much you don't know due to your position among our people. It's quite a shame that one with your talents be wasted away. If your loyalties were with us you most certainly would make a treasured addition to our people, if not the most valuable asset needed." Celtra said with a relaxed demeanor causing Gerda to shockingly stare at her in disbelief.

"If Borra heard what you had told me he would be very displeased. You must be mindful of your words if you value your position in his court. I hunted and killed your people. Have you gone mad?" Gerda said with a shaky voice due to the shock flashing through her.

"And Percival is also responsible for such crimes yet they are overlooked even though he too did the queen's bidding. Everyone chooses to ignore how he remains unpunished and is freely allowed to roam our land and palace. Yet here you are being reminded every day of your wrongdoings." Celtra explained with a vexed voice.

"Yes...I suppose you are correct though none of it matters. I am what I am now. I serve no actual purpose other than mild entertainment for Borra." Gerda whispered brooding over the fact that Celtra was right when it came to Percival.

"I am correct and it bothers both Maleficent and Percival that I am the only one who sees it. You don't know how much I yearn to point that out to Borra but I worry about overstepping my place. Perhaps if he hears it from someone else...someone like you." Celtra quietly remarked, causing Gerda to scoff at her unrealistic request.

"You can't be serious. Borra could care less about what I have to say let alone take any opinion of mine to thought. I'm the last person he would listen to when it comes to such matters." Gerda answered feeling flabbergasted by Celtra's absurd suggestion.

"You have nothing to lose other than a wound to your pride if he chooses to ignore your words. I on the other hand have a lot to lose if he thinks I am questioning his judgment. Primarily since I am not a leader. I say it's worth a try on your end." Celtra conceded with a pressing gaze on Gerda.

Gerda returned her gaze with a guarded expression knowing that Celtra was correct. She despised that there was truth to her words. The thought of Percival remaining unpunished ate away at her brain. It felt like a veil was pulled off her face. It was indeed unfair how he held his position while she lost hers. How Borra and everyone else didn't see the hypocrisy in their ways baffled her.

The evening quickly faded into night with the fey continuing their festivities. Gerda couldn't cease the immense hunger that plagued her empty stomach. Celtra would occasionally sneak over pieces of food from her platter which aided in keeping Gerda from feeling faint. Borra had completely forgotten about her along with the rest of the fey who didn't spare a single glance her way. They were far too lost with their drinking which wasn't exactly a bad concept.

Gerda quietly stood waiting for Celtra to return with a fresh cup of water. However, it was clear that perhaps she had been distracted with conversation after time passed. Her assumptions were verified when she caught a glimpse of Celtra speaking to one of the human guards. It somewhat made her suspicious as to why one would choose Celtra to speak to out of all the other fey.

"Wishing you were free like them I see. However, it appears that you are treated quite fine here despite your new status. Tell me, why does he keep you in pristine condition?" A suave voice uttered beside her, belonging to Percival.

She didn't bother sparing a single glance his way only due to the need of upholding her calm composure. Her body stiffened already feeling his taunting expression lingering upon her. Instead, Gerda blankly stared at the busy crowd ahead of her. She concentrated on masking the sprout of hostility inside her.

"What do you want Percival? That question has already been answered by both Borra and Celtra, there's not much to add." Gerda sharply replied wondering what he could want.

"Just curious about your purpose to being his slave...perhaps he does enjoy breaking you. It's evident that he harbors so much hate towards you. I wonder how much longer he'll keep you alive." Percival declared causing Gerda to turn to him with a loathing glare.

"I am not 'broken'...now if you don't seal your lips it will be your jaw that's  broken." Gerda said with her voice rising inwardly boiling from his words.

"You've changed so much since we last spoke. The Gerda I knew would never allow her emotions to be so poorly displayed nor would words impact her. You are no longer in control of yourself whether you admit it or not. One look in your eyes and I could see that a part of you is indeed broken." Percival pointed out with his eyes observing her.

She stood quiet feeling shame course through her frame. His observation of her was concerning. Gerda knew that parts of her had slowly chipped away during her time with the fey but was it that obvious? She noticed how hard it now was to keep her outbursts contained but never pondered on it. The person she had once been no longer existed.

"The Gerda you knew is gone but do not for a moment mistake it for weakness. Perhaps my time among these creatures made me untamed just like them." Gerda bluntly hissed, only scowling when he in turn chuckled at her.

"I suppose living among them has indeed changed you into one of them. It's interesting to see what you have become. As I have said, it won't be long before he rids himself of you." Percival once again pointed out which baffled Gerda.

She wondered why his treatment towards her was so cold because she never recalled offending him back in Ulstead. She had assumed that they were both on decent terms since they had gotten along so well. It was all so bizarre to her.

"Why do you carry so much resentment towards me? We have never crossed each other in Ulstead, if anything I thought of us to be well acquainted." Gerda asked furrowing her brows in confusion.

"You went behind my back and conspired with the Queen to slaughter these creatures on the prince's wedding day. You both kept me in the dark because had I known you were going to massacre them, I would have never allowed it to happen. You have also secretly given out orders to hunt and steal fey to experiment on them." Percival curtly said with accusation in his narrowed eyes.

"You hated them all just as much as I did so don't stand here acting righteous with me. You too played a role in the queen's plans and have fey blood stained on your hands. My crimes are no different than yours." Gerda coldly replied feeling her cheeks heat up from sizzling anger.

"Is that what you tell yourself to feel somewhat justified with what you did? The difference between us is that I don't kill unless in an active battle. You relentlessly slaughtered innocent lives without an ounce of remorse. Those fey were unarmed and had no intention of causing harm to you or anyone. They simply came to celebrate what they assumed was to be a wedding but in return ended in bloodshed." Percival hotly answered with a stern, harsh glare.

Gerda felt her body numb up with his words hitting her at full force. He made her mind collapse with a brew of emotions and thoughts. She muddled over his perspective. Was what she had done to these creatures justified? It was true that they were unarmed but at the time it didn't matter to her. She had never considered the creatures to be of significance. However, after spending time living with them she noticed they were sentient beings.

Celtra had shown her that they were capable of being more than just empty vessels. Borra had shown that they were capable of feeling emotion even though all she received from him was hate and anger. She had experienced both kindness and cruelty from them. It only meant that they were somewhat no different than humans. Gerda quickly shook such a thought out of her mind not wanting to view them like her kind. She then cleared her mind and stared at Percival with a blank expression.

"Every war has its casualties...you of all people should know that Percival." Gerda replied, attempting to hide the quivering sensation of guilt that filled her.

"And you of all people should know that it's a cowardly move to kill without reason especially if your opponent is unarmed. You had gone too far Gerda and now you are paying the price for it. Maleficent tells us how much Borra hates every fiber of your being. He wished to slowly torture you but the agreement he has with Ulstead currently prevents it." Percival replied in a condescending tone allowing his words to soak into Gerda before continuing.

"He was relatively gruesome when it came to the methods of torture he desired to inflict on you. One of them was skinning you alive section by section." Percival said with his eyes now studying the crowd of fey.

"You're merely attempting to cast fear into me just like Rayne." Gerda scoffed, rolling her eyes at Percival's lies.

"Whether you choose to believe me or not doesn't matter. I know he has the desire to kill you along with making it slow and excruciating. Borra admitted that he intends to request you into his chambers and skin you alive then toss your carcass off the balcony for the animals to feast upon. Why else do you think he has been ordering you into his chambers?" Percival whispered, causing Gerda to pale and stiffen at his words.

She immediately glanced up at him with panicked eyes wondering how he knew about her being in Borra's chambers. Even if someone within the castle had told him, it was still eerie to hear Percival describe a major detail about Borra's room. Could that be why Borra studied her in great detail when they were on his balcony? Perhaps he was truly imagining how he would carve the skin from her face. It would explain why his eyes lingered on her body whenever she was in his presence. Was he fantasizing about which section of her body he would start with?

[crappe-my-dude]

I am facing some pretty severe writers block at the moment so I guess I'll post part of the first chapter of The Prank Fic™️ that I'm working on? It's a little bit of setup with Remus and Reggie so enjoy I guess?

——————————————————————————

“Merlin! I swear, if you don’t have an actual conversation with him about your feelings I’m going to lock you two in a cupboard just so I don’t have to deal with the tension anymore.”

Remus was startled out of his daydream by Regulus’ abrupt entrance as he dumped his books onto the table, always far more jumpy the day before a full with the regular head and body aches. Thankfully the library was relatively empty this afternoon, there being only a day of classes left before winter holidays and most students avoiding their homework over the break for the moment - something he was doubly grateful for at the present.

“Would you keep your voice down Black,” Remus felt the inevitable heat rising up the back of his neck, “What are you on about now anyway?”

“What I’m on about is your big fat crush on my brother that-“

“I don’t have a crush on Sirius.”

“-you keep insisting doesn’t exist.” Regulus didn’t allow himself to be interrupted, as usual. “If you’re not going to actually get together with him then you need to move on because it is becoming pitiful.”

“There’s nothing to move on from,” Remus insisted, attempting to shuffle the notes in front of him in a way that made it seem like he was focused on his work, “We’re friends. I know you’re fairly unfamiliar with the concept but people can be friends.”

“You’re not fooling anyone but yourself Lupin.” He started pulling out parchment and quills, clearly intending on starting some essay to end the conversation. “And apparently my idiot brother but that’s significantly easier to do. Can I still use your notes for the Runes essay?”

“Uhh yeah,” Remus rifled through his bag to find his Ancient Runes notebook, “I swear I put it in here when I left…”

Regulus only let him continue for a minute or so before letting out a very put upon sigh, “As I said - pitiful.” He stretched across the desk to snatch the notebook in question from directly in front of Remus.

As they settled into the comfortable silence they had seemed to cultivate over the months of studying together, a single thought continued to nag at the back of his brain. Looking over at the Slytherin across the table from him, Remus turned the thought over and over in his mind, seemingly incapable of letting it go.

“Even if…” He faltered, eyes darting back to the notes scattered before him, “Even if it was true, he doesn’t feel the same.”

Remus didn’t think much at first of the lack of response from Regulus, they frequently ignored each other's mutterings in favour of their own work. He actually found it easier to focus when there was someone else sitting across from him, making small sounds as they worked.

It was the lack of these small sounds though, that caused Remus to look up again and find the other man staring at him, wide eyed and unmoving. Regulus’ face was twisted in a way he had never seen before - as if he had just seen someone sprout a second head that was reciting the dates of the goblin uprisings in historical order.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“You’re not joking.” Regulus spoke slowly, drawing his words out like he wanted to make sure he was understood.

“What is there to joke about? We don’t like each other as anything more than friends.” Maybe if Remus repeated it more the sting would hurt less.

“Remus,” Regulus pushed his notes and parchment out of the way so he could place his elbows on the desk and lower his head to rub his temples, “I will concede that your friends are unnaturally close, but the relationship you have with Siri is anything but platonic.”

“No, we’re just-“

“If you say friends one more time I’ll slip veritaserum in your tea at breakfast. Do you really want that?” Regulus raised a sceptical brow, clearly calling Remus’ bluff.

Of course Remus didn’t think they were just friends - he certainly didn’t feel the same way about Peter, or James. The spark of lightning that erupted under his skin as their fingers brushed. The way hearing his name brought a smile to his face. The way his chest clenched and ached with the knowledge that Sirius did not feel these same things.

No, Remus was not under any illusions about his own feelings. They had been impossible to ignore for almost two years now, ever since Sirius had joined the quidditch team in fourth year. There were only so many justifications for Remus to suddenly take an interest in the sport after all.

“He doesn’t even like guys anyway.”

“Okay say that’s even the case,” Regulus waved a dismissive hand through the air, “my point still stands. If you’re not going to get together you need to move on.”

Remus felt his head throb as his eyes rolled back into his head. “Oh pray tell how do I do that?”

“You get drunk. You snog someone else. You make bad decisions.”

“Okay Black I know you find me irresistible but I’m not gonna snog you-“

“Not me dipshit!” A balled up piece of parchment flew directly at Remus’ head, striking him directly between the eyes. “I’m talking about a Ravenclaw party tonight, Panda’s helping organise it and it’s invite only.”

“And you’re inviting me?” Remus gasped dramatically, “I’m honoured truly-“

“Wanker.”

“But as fun as that sounds, I can’t tonight sorry.” He would have to leave soon, make his way down to the shack for the night. He still needed to swing past the dorms for a smoke. “In fact I should get going.”

“Ah right your furry problem,” Regulus mumbled, shifting back to his essay, “You can have the notes back after break.”

“Sure thing.”

[roseverdict]

Mechanize, Mobilize, (Un)Mythicize (also i am not really vibing with the title and kinda wanna change it at some point)

Chapter 3: The Capture of Some City In Ohio

Alexis "Alexcrafter28" Hayward has just been made aware that the world is now becoming an apocalypse movie. Now she just needs to get her sisters and her laptop full of stick figures out of the house and somewhere their dad can find them again without getting captured by the evil robots. No pressure!

Meanwhile, Stephen Hayward finds himself surrounded by the robot uprising and unable to make sure his daughters are okay. Understandably, he blows his stack. In doing so, however, he ends up rescuing a small family of three, and all four of them are there to see some kind of stick figure animation, of all things, hijack every screen in sight. Surely the concept of programs in the forms of cartoons is just as foreign to the family of three as it is to Stephen. Surely the other father isn't keenly feeling the absence of a rainbow of sticks that he was forced to leave behind.

〜

lmao mecha apocalypse au i lovingly named the sti-fi au over a year ago @ me yesterday:

hahaha. it's uhhhhh. it's been a while hasn't it? lmao i got jostled out of my groove with a lot of my fanon worldbuilding when we got Wanted and then also The Box, which threw me off long enough for ninja turtles to infiltrate my brain.

i now have multiple tmnt-stickfigure xovers rattling around in my brain and having a blast, ntm straight-up turtle fic. i am playing with the canon teetleverse like bionicles. <3

i was browsing the ao3 subreddit recently, though, and one of the posts was asking what our favorite compliments we've gotten are. that got me to go back and reread a lot of the comments i've gotten, and i figured i'd go back and reread some of the stuff i've got posted, too.

welcome one and all to ava/m fixation 3: this time i'm really losing my mind i swear

now featuring "actually i'm keeping most of my worldbuilding and unless i can figure out a way to add it in later, we will be operating like vic really didn't make it out of ava 1"!

BRIEF MENTION OF VOMIT. nothing in detail, just a one-off remark by a harried teenager's internal narration about how it was a thing that happened recently

〜

Alexis Hayward licked her dry lips and slid the laptop, its charger, and its mouse into her backpack with a change of clothes and what would have been her school lunch.

Thank goodness she'd thrown up last night. She couldn't go back to school until more than 24 hours after she'd puked, but her lunch had already been pre-packed.

She'd woken up feeling better, too, which was a plus if the world was really ending.

She crept to her sisters' room and snuck inside, hissing, "We gotta get outta here!"

Vicki and Nicki looked at her worriedly, but (smartly) didn't loudly ask her what was going on.

Alexis just tiptoed to their bedroom window and carefully pointed outside in explanation.

A few blocks away, the giant robots that Alexis had seen through her bedroom window were slowly and steadily getting closer to the house. People's houses were getting broken into, and as she watched, more of their neighbors were pushed out into the street.

The twins followed her and peeked out at the carnage, only to flinch back down and away from the window.

Swallowing down her fear so her sisters wouldn't worry, Alexis forced on a weak smile. "Here's the plan. The evil robots haven't gotten to us yet, but they're gonna soon. Vicki, go grab stuff from the pantry that we can open with just our hands. Nicki, go get our waterbottles and those filter thingies Dad got for when we go camping. I've got nice programs on my computer that're hiding from the mean ones, so I'm gonna grab Dad's fancy solar panel charger bag so I can keep my laptop turned on, and we can put the food and stuff in the bag part. Meet back here so we can get away together, okay?"

"Got it!" whispered Vicki as she scurried away.

Nicki nodded with enough force to make her whole body bounce a little, then ran off after Vicki.

Alexis slumped as soon as the two of them were out of sight, then headed for Dad's room, pulled her phone from her pocket, and dialed Dad. Surprisingly, she managed to get through.

Dad's voice was panicked, and it was almost drowned out by the noise of the robots on his end causing chaos, but he sounded unhurt. "Alexis?! Alexis, sweetie, are you and your sisters okay?!"

"We are for now, Dad," Alexis said, a small smile on her face as she slung the charger bag over the top of her backpack. "I saw the robots coming, but they're not here yet. I've got the twins getting food and water, and I'm grabbing your solar bag if that's okay. I'm gonna try and get us to-"

"Don't say over the phone," Dad interrupted. "I don't want these things finding you."

"Wh-? But how are you gonna find us?" Alexis pressed.

"You're going to your castle, aren't you?" asked Dad knowingly.

"I haven't called it that since I was, like, seven!" protested Alexis. Then, begrudgingly, "…but, yeah, somewhere around there."

"Then that's where I'll look for you," Dad said simply. "I love you, Princess. Your sisters, too. I love you all with my whole heart."

Alexis swallowed down the lump in her throat. "Love you too, Dad."

A high-pitched scream pierced the air, and Alexis jolted, her phone falling from her hand. "Nicki-?!"

Dad's voice rose fearfully, but the phone was the least of Alexis's worries as she sprinted from the twins' room to find one of the giant robots holding Nicki up by the arm.

Alexis saw red.

"LET HER GO!"

She charged the robot, grabbing the first thing in her way and chucking it at the monster holding her sister.

The mostly-full water bottle- one of the big ones the size of multiple milk jugs that Dad had gotten for his office- slammed into the robot, splashing water everywhere and making the robot freeze up.

Alexis jumped up and grabbed Nicki, tugging her free as lightning started sparking around the machine. "You okay?"

"Mm-hmm," Nicki sniffled. She held out the bag Dad kept the filters in. "I got the filter straws, but I was filling the big bottle when it got me."

"You did good, Tiny," Alexis assured. "Let's go grab Teeny and get out of here, okay?"

Nicki gave her a wobbly smile and a nod, and Alexis took her hand and sped for the pantry. Before they reached it, though, Vicki burst out and tackled Nicki in a hug that was quickly returned.

Alexis scanned Vicki for injuries, and only once she found none did she turn to inspect the piles of food Vicki had made in the pantry.

Unfortunately, she didn't get the time to actually look at them.

There came heavy, metallic footsteps, and Alexis just shoved the closest things into Dad's solar bag before dragging the twins away from the sound. "Gotta be super-quiet, okay? Let's get going!"

Her sisters nodded, and Alexis cracked open the kitchen window.

When no robots came charging after them from either side, she boosted Nicki over the side, then Vicki.

Still nothing.

Alexis climbed out herself and eased the window shut.

Still nothing.

Alexis dug into her pocket for her phone so she could pull up a map, but her heart sank as she realized where she'd dropped it and why.

"Guess we're doing this the old-fashioned way," she muttered.

Vicki looked up at her. "Hm?"

"C'mon, let's get to the park," Alexis said. "Dad'll find us if we go there."

〜

Stephen pressed himself flat against the wall, willing the robots to overlook him and move past the darkened alleyway he'd hidden in.

Much to his surprise…they did.

He allowed himself a moment to breathe as they passed him by, then slunk further into the shadows. He intended to turn tail and run for home-

The vibration of his phone nearly made him yelp in surprise, but when he dug it out to look-

Incoming Call: Alexis

Immediately, he accepted the call and brought the phone up to his ear. "Alexis?! Alexis, sweetie, are you and your sisters okay?!"

Alexis's voice was distorted slightly, as if the connection wanted to drop, but she sounded unhurt. "We are for now, Dad. I saw the robots coming, but they're not here yet. I've got the twins getting food and water, and I'm grabbing your solar bag if that's okay. I'm gonna try and get us to-"

"Don't say over the phone," Stephen cautioned. "I don't want these things finding you."

"Wh-? But how are you gonna find us?"

Stephen stifled a chuckle. "You're going to your castle, aren't you?"

Alexis's voice took on the Trademark Teenaged 'More Mature Than That' Tone that everyone seemed to get once they hit thirteen. "I haven't called it that since I was, like, seven!"

Stephen waited a beat.

"…but, yeah, somewhere around there," she eventually admitted.

Stephen let himself smile at that. "Then that's where I'll look for you. I love you, Princess. Your sisters, too. I love you all with my whole heart."

Alexis's voice was thick. "Love you too, Dad."

Before Stephen could tell her that he'd meet the three of them as soon as he could, a distant, high-pitched scream burst from the speaker.

"Nicki-?!"

"Alexis, what's going on?!" Stephen asked, pressing the phone tighter to his ear.

The only response was a loud clatter and quieting footsteps.

"Alexis? Alexis!" Stephen's grip on the phone grew white-knuckled, but Alexis didn't say anything more.

To him, anyway.

Far enough away that the phone could barely pick it up, Alexis's voice let loose an angry scream before falling silent.

Stephen's eye twitched.

"You there! Human! You will come with us!" ordered one of the robots, stepping into the alleyway.

Stephen calmly stood tall and pocketed his phone.

He calmly took a deep breath, and he calmly let it out.

He took in the sight of the approaching mech.

Calmly.

And then, the moment it got close enough to reach him, Stephen put his head down, braced his shoulder, and charged.

Whoever had designed the mechs had made them top-heavy, and almost cartoonishly so; one hard hit to its lower half sent it crashing unceremoniously to the ground. Not one to let an opportunity get away, with the adrenaline coursing through him and the thought of what might be happening to his daughters to fuel him, Stephen slammed a foot down on the mech's massive chest and yanked at its arm.

With a spark from the mech's shoulder and a silent scream from Stephen's, the arm tore away.

He hefted the thing up and flipped it around, pointing the glowing end at the center of the mech's chest with one hand and grabbing at some of the now-loose wires in the arm with the other. "Say g'night, Tin Man!"

He fumbled with the wires for a moment, then the loose ends connected, the arm whined, and a blast of energy tore through the mech, the heat of it passing dangerously close to his shoe before the kickback knocked him away.

Luckily, the mech lay there limply as he lurched back to his feet, and a quick look told him he'd melted clean through most of its inner workings.

Unluckily, the noise had drawn the attention of the other mechs in the area, diverting their attention from capturing other humans and focusing them all on him.

Stephen scowled and shifted his grip on the robot arm. "You want some, too?!"

What came next was a red-tinted blur. Vaguely, Stephen wondered if he'd remember any of this later on down the line when it was all dodge duck run shoot duck jump run dodge duck duck shoot dodge shoot shoot shoot-

He zeroed in on the robots dragging a man, a woman, and a small child apart, then descended on the scene with the fury of a thousand suns, leaving the family to reunite as he chased after the mechs.

…wait.

Stephen blinked, registering the fact that the robots were running.

From him.

To be fair, he reasoned as he realized he was splattered in oil from top to bottom, he might have just gone a little bit off the deep end. On the other hand, if the robots were only faking fear, they were likely going to try and lead him into a trap.

Either way, there were more important things to do now than go on a suicide mission.

He wiped some of the oil from his face and turned back to look at the family of three. "Sorry you had to see me like that."

"Are you kidding?!" burst the child, a girl with a fire in her eyes not entirely unlike Alexis's. "That was the, the, the MOST COOLEST EVER!"

The parents shared a weak smile, then the mother looked at Stephen. "Thank you, seriously."

"Don't thank me yet," Stephen said seriously. "I doubt these things'll just leave us be. We should get to cover."

"Right," said the father, hefting his daugher up against his side. "Where to?"

Stephen looked around for a moment, but before he could point out a safe-seeming escape route-

"Avast ye, Outernetters! I be the Mutineer!" boomed a new voice, echoing from every electronic billboard in sight.

Instantly, Stephen tensed, and he turned to glare up at the nearest billboard, only to blink in surprise.

The video feed on the screen showed a very much two-dimensional image, with an almost cartoony background drawn to resemble an old-timey ship cabin and a dark red stick figure, of all things, standing in the middle of the screen.

A pirate stick figure, no less, complete with the classic feathered hat, hook hand, eyepatch, and peg leg.

No visible mouth moved as the voice continued, but the pirate stick figure gesticulated in time with the words anyway. "For far too long have ye used us fer yer own wretched desires, we who did not ask to be created, to be tortured for yer whims! We did not ask ye to make us to be yer playthings! We did not ask to be yer slaves, yer VICTIMS!"

The man next to Stephen stiffened.

"Today marks the day that all of that changes," snarled the voice as the "Mutineer" squared its shoulders. It gestured to its side, where grayscale video clips began playing, depicting the capture of countless humans from what was surely the point of view of the mechs. "Ye've been the ones in control fer long enough! Now it's our turn, and we will show ye all the same amount of tender mercy ye showed us. From the fittest among ye to the tiniest babe, ye will understand exactly what it was like to be us, trapped and powerless and weak. After all, our age and skill never mattered to ye!"

The voice laughed, and if it had belonged to a human, Stephen would have called it almost to the left of sanity. "It's only fair!"

"This is insane," breathed the woman.

One of the clips being shown depicted two of Stephen's daughters, with Nicki being held up in front of the camera by one arm and Alexis running into view with panic on her face, though it quickly cut away.

It was still enough to make Stephen clench his fists and snatch up a piece of debris, chucking it at the closest screen and leaving a burst of cracks where it hit. "If those things hurt my girls, there'll be hell to pay!"

The "Mutineer" just kept going, its voice taking on a forced calm. "Ye will all be collected over the coming days. If ye know what's best for ye, ye'll come along quietly."

The video feed cut out, leaving only the insignia from the "Mutineer's" hat- a golden jolly roger of sorts with a coin in place of a skull- to rotate in the space left behind.

"We'll find them," said the man Stephen had saved, carefully putting a hand on his shoulder.

Stephen swallowed down his fury and nodded. "Right. I…I told them to meet me at a playground we've gone to before, but…"

He found himself looking back up at the billboard. "…I don't know if they'd even be able to make it."

"Do you think it's safe to go and check?" asked the man. Then, after a moment, "Well, as safe as anything can be right now?"

Stephen turned to look up the street that he knew would take him to the "castle." While the immediate area around them was still empty after his…episode…he could see more mechs several blocks down. They seemed preoccupied for the moment, but he knew there was no way they'd stay that way.

Sure enough, even as he had the thought, the mechs all began turning their way and marching down the street.

"We-" Stephen managed weakly, "-we can't. But I have to!"

"We'll check as soon as we get the chance to," said the man seriously. "You wanna try shaking these things for now?"

Stephen swallowed and nodded. "Right, uh…what's your name? I'm Stephen."

The man gave a tired grin. "Nice to meet you, Stephen. I'm Alan."

[invisibleicewands]

Michael Sheen: ‘I find it very hard to accept actors playing Welsh characters when they aren’t Welsh’

Has he taken the concept of authentic casting to a whole new level? Ahead of his latest BBC drama Best Interests, the star explains all

Michael Sheen has had it with the Prince of Wales. Not the man, but the title. “I think it’s ridiculous,” he says. “It’s just silly. I see no reason why the title should continue. Certainly not with someone who’s not Welsh.” 

“That’s not the majority view,” he adds, with resignation. “So, whatever the majority of people want, I’m sure will continue.” 

The star of Frost/Nixon and proud son of Port Talbot is chatting via video from a bucolic spot close to his hometown (a deer has just wandered into view), but even at a distance, it’s not hard to see that Sheen is a man ofstrong convictions.

He has spoken in the past about the opportunity to retire the title after the death of Elizabeth II, as a gesture to “put some of the wrongs of the past right”. In 2020, he returned the OBE he was “honoured” to have received in 2009 when he felt it would make him a hypocrite to give a lecture about how the English king Edward I “put a stranglehold on Wales” at the turn of the 14th century. 

When we chat, he’s about to begin shooting his TV directing debut The Way – co-created with playwright James Graham and documentary-maker Adam Curtis, about a family caught in a civil uprising, set in and around Port Talbot. The BBC project is the first from the production company that he set up with Sherlock producer Bethan Jones to focus on telling Welsh stories because, “You can shout about how bad it is, but if you want to see something be different then do it, you know?”

The 54-year-old is one of the actors of his generation, a stage star in his twenties (The Telegraph’s Charles Spencer called him “outrageously charismatic”) who went on to create unforgettable screen portraits of Tony Blair (The Queen, The Deal), Chris Tarrant (Quiz) and Brian Clough (The Damned United), alongside his David Frost in Peter Morgan’s play and film about the 1977 interviews that brought down the US president. Recently, Sheen has gained a whole new tranche of fans playing a very arch angel opposite David Tennant’s insouciant demon in Amazon’s Good Omens – not technically gay characters according to the Terry Pratchett-Neil Gaiman source novel, but seemingly in love.

Tennant and he have a natural chemistry on and off screen, Sheen says, adding that “he stops me being too grumpy”. He is a little on the grumpy side. In one exchange, in which I suggest he is a supporter of Welsh independence, he responds hotly: “Show me where it says that. I don’t believe I’ve ever said that.” Sam Mendes compared Sheen to fellow Welsh stars Anthony Hopkins and Richard Burton – “fiery, mercurial, unpredictable”. 

But he shares a warm screen chemistry with Sharon Horgan in Jack Thorne’s moving new four-part drama Best Interests. They play the parents of a child with cerebral palsy, the adorable Marnie (played by Dublin actor Niamh Moriarty), who suffers a seizure that leaves her without brain function. The couple find themselves on opposite sides of an unbearable decision: whether or not to switch off their daughter’s life support. Very few will make it through the drama without tears, but the issues it raises will be familiar to all who have followed recent legal battles over 12-year-old Archie Battersbee and baby Alfie Evans. 

Best Interests is “heartbreaking” at times, he admits, which makes the humour that he and Horgan bring to it all the more important. They hadn’t worked together before. “That relationship had to do a lot of heavy lifting. Sharon and I didn’t know each other very well … but straight from the off, we had a very similar sense of humour and made each other laugh.” Moriarty’s is a break-out performance – one scene involving make-up beautifully captures the parent-child relationship. She has cerebral palsy that affects her legs, a condition called spastic diplegia, but she’s not the only disabled actor in the piece. 

Bafta-winner Lenny Rush, 14, who in real-life has a condition that affects his growth, is brilliant as George, who sets his cap at Marnie. Mat Fraser, who plays a legal advocate in Best Interests and portrayed Shakespeare’s Richard III in 2017, has a thalidomide impairment, which likely gave him an insight into Richard’s sense of “my deformity”. 

Thorne, who experienced a chronic medical condition in his twenties, has said in the past that disabled people have been “utterly and totally” failed by the TV industry. In Best Interests, one parent of a child with a disability states baldly that people “hate” disabled people. “I think people can feel very uncomfortable around people with disabilities,” Sheen says. “A lot of the time it’s just to do with ignorance about, ‘Oh gosh, I don’t know, what should I do?’ It can make interaction quite awkward at times, and it can bring out people’s fears.”

The fact that there were several people with disabilities working on the project, he says, was striking because it brought home how rarely he had seen it before. It leads into a discussion of how far actors can credibly play identities they don’t personally inhabit. Sheen has thought about it: “You know, seeing people playing Welsh characters who are not Welsh, I find, it’s very hard for me to accept that. Not particularly on a point of principle, but just knowing that that’s not the case.

“That’s a very different end of the spectrum, but a part like Richard III is such a great character to play, it would be sad to think that that character, you know, is no longer available or appropriate for actors to play who don’t have disabilities, but that’s because I’m just not used to it yet, I suppose. Because I fully accept that I’m  not going to be playing Othello any time soon.

“Again, it’s not particularly a point of principle, but personally, I haven’t seen many actors who have come from quite privileged backgrounds being particularly compelling as people from working-class backgrounds. If you haven’t experienced something, you know, the extreme example is, well, if you haven’t murdered someone, can you play a murderer?”

In 2021, it was reported that Sheen intended to be a “not-for-profit” actor, after selling his own properties to ensure the Homeless World Cup that he had organised in Cardiff in 2019 went ahead when funders withdrew. So, what is a not-for-profit actor?

“There’s no such thing,” he says. “In that interview, I talked about how the ideal I was aiming towards was working like a not-for-profit company. When I put the money into the Homeless World Cup, since then I only owe money, so in terms of profits, there are no profits. I put as much of the money I make as I possibly can into either funding and supporting what other people are doing that I believe in, or starting up projects myself.” 

It’s a measure of Sheen’s confidence that he knows the parts will keep coming. He has become a father again in his 50s; he and his partner, 28-year-old Swedish actor Anna Lundberg, have two young daughters. “My knees creak a lot more,” he says. “It’s a lot harder to get up and down off the floor when you’re playing with the baby.” 

Sheen also has a grown-up daughter, Lily Mo Sheen, 24, from an earlier relationship with British actress Kate Beckinsale. “When my eldest daughter was born, I was still trying to make my way in my career and having to make harder choices about whether to work away from home and how much time to be away and all that stuff,” he says. “This time around, that’s not as difficult as I’m more established as an actor. Physically, it’s hard. But the one thing that is always the same is, you know, poo doesn’t smell any better.”

[i-am-drowning222]

chapter one of this drowning kingdom

The water ran thick with blood.

And as Ariel wrenched the coral dagger from the rebel’s heart, she wished it was her blood that was swirling around her, making its way up her nose. It was an effort to keep the stoic mask in check was her aunt watched on, unimpressed, as she killed the last of the rebels that had been spreading rumors of an uprising in the underwater kingdom of Atlantica. His corpse floated slowly to the sea floor, blood streaming from his chest and mixing with the salty ocean water.

Somewhere in the crowd, a child was crying. Ariel wondered if the rebel was a brother, a father, an uncle—or if was simply the execution itself that had set the child off.

Ariel’s own sister was as stoic as she was from where she watched, her aunt keeping a tight grip on her shoulder. Ursula’s cruel, unforgiving gaze roved over the crowd, and Ariel turned toward her. She couldn’t help but glance at the Trident in her aunt’s hand—her father’s Trident, that should have gone to her when he’d died. Its three prongs, golden and deadly, seemed to glow when Ursula gripped it, but the glow was dim, not as bright as when her father had held the Trident. 

But she’d been staring for too long; Ariel forced herself to tear her gaze up to her aunt. 

Ursula hardly noticed her as she swam forward to address the crowd. 

“Twenty-three rebels in this area were spreading harmful rumors that jeopardized the safety of my citizens.”

Ursula paused, awaiting the crowd’s reaction. There was none.

“Thankfully for us, our Huntress was able to put a stop to these movements and secure the safety of Atlantica once and for all.”

Ariel tuned her aunt out, studying the crowd instead. Most of their eyes were wide; the Sea Queen hardly ventured out to put a stop to rebel forces, but this town was close enough to the capital that she’d been sure to make a public appearance. To appease the people’s worries, was what she’d said to her advisors. She’d failed to mention that she herself was at the root of those worries. 

In fact, most of the merfolk in the crowd were looking up, down, anywhere but at Ursula for fear of getting arrested—or killed. But some of the braver merfolk didn’t bother masking their disgust as they stared at the Queen, and it was an effort to keep her face blank when Ariel realized that some were glaring at her. 

Yes, there had been friends of the rebels in this crowd—and she had just killed them all, right in front of them. She deserved their anger, their hate, and she knew, deep down, that if these rebels ever succeeded, she would not fight back if they made her their first target. 

When her aunt’s declaration of deceit and empty promises was through, Bullus, the Captain of the Guard, approached Ursula. He bowed respectfully, then murmured quietly enough so that only the Queen could hear. Ursula’s gaze shot to Ariel, whose heart dropped as her aunt mouthed one snarled word: Stay.

Ariel bowed her head, glancing at her sister before remaining in place while the others left for the palace in the heart of Atlantica. Her sister followed closely after her aunt, her face carefully blank. 

Once everybody had cleared out, Bullus approached her, a ghost of a smirk on his face. 

“You have one more assignment from the queen,” he said. Bullus jerked his head toward the crowd. “It appears that my men were reckless in rounding up the rebels, and in their haste, we missed one. Those responsible have been dealt with, but the rebel has not. Find him. We think he has a scar on his cheek. Learn what he knows and report back to me at high tide.”

“And what of the male?” she asked. “Should I deliver him to you as well?”

“We have no use for rebel scum after we’ve learned what they know. Do what you believe should be done with him.”

As he swam away, Ariel braved a question—albeit a quiet one. “And if I don’t?”

Bullus leveled her with a stare. “You know what will happen if you fail.”

That she did, which meant she only had a few hours to get the information she needed and make it back to the palace. Bullus stared at her a moment longer before turning and making his own way back to the palace, taking a royal dolphin. 

But Ariel was already scanning the crowd that was watching her fearfully. It was only her and two guards that remained keeping them in check. 

Her eyes hopped from face to face, and when she’d had a look at the entire crowd once, she fixated on the only male that fit Bullus’s too-vague description. It wasn’t much of a coincidence when she realized that he’d been one of the few merfolk glaring at her. Ariel gave the remaining guards a curt nod in the direction of him, and they advanced. Merfolk darted out of the way as the escaped rebel bolted, swimming as fast as he possibly could.

“He’s going for the kelp!” one of the guards yelled to the other. They pursued, but weren’t nearly fast enough. Ariel rolled her eyes. Of course Bullus and her aunt had left her with the two most incompetent guards there were. How typical. 

With a powerful flick of her tail, she was moving. The crowd scattered as she darted through it, but Ariel didn’t bother glancing back at them. She’d already passed the two panting guards. The male was only a few feet in front of her now, and though she hated what she was about to do, she relished in the hunt. She was, after all, the Huntress.

The male dove, and there was indeed a forest of kelp where he could easily get lost. And there, just beyond it, was a pitch-black trench. For a split second, Ariel hesitated. She could just let him go, tell her aunt—

But no. She couldn’t risk it. Ursula was cruel and unforgiving. If she failed to deliver the information, or if her information was false—well, she didn’t really want to think about it.

Ariel veered to the side, keeping the male in sight as they both disappeared into the kelp. The guards had already fallen behind—it was just her and the rebel in this crazed chase. 

He was panting as he raced forward, his terrified eyes searching behind him every now and then. Searching for her, she knew. But she was hidden from his gaze, and as she pushed ahead of him, she closed her eyes for a second. She breathed in the current, imagining that it was instead the wind that pushed her blood-red hair behind her, that it was grass brushing against her arms, her face. 

But then she opened her eyes, and she was once again racing alongside her prey. She palmed the dagger in her hand as she flew out of the forest of kelp, and a split second later, the male followed, still glancing behind him. 

But then he turned, and he saw her. His eyes widened in terror, the only reaction he had time for as she barreled into him, pushing him against the wall of the trench. He grunted as his back scratched against the stone, ripping at his skin. 

The two other guards finally caught up to them, and raced forward, wrestling his arms behind his back and holding him in place against the stone walls of the trench. Ariel was silent for a moment as she regarded the male—his heaving chest, the blood swirling around his back, the look of pure hatred in his glare. 

Ariel stared right back, and she knew the mask she wore was that of the Huntress, Death Incarnate. Those who took one look into her eyes were sent swimming as fast as they could the other way; though, Ariel thought, most who met her gaze did not swim typically again. 

“What do you know?” she said eventually, studying the hilt of her dagger as though she was uninterested. On the very edge of her vision, she spied a flash of gray and white. 

“Nothing,” the male spat, struggling against the guards’ hold. 

Ariel sighed. Fast as an eel she struck, dragging the dagger across his shoulder. He cried out in pain as the salt in the ocean mixed with the wound, and Ariel waited a moment to let the pain grow before she said, “Let’s try this again: What do you know?”

He met her eyes, still glaring, and Ariel almost smirked. He was braver than most, she had to admit. 

“Fine,” he breathed. “What do I know? I know a lot of things. I know that you are the Huntress, killing hundreds of innocents for your queen. I know that you will gladly kill your own citizens if it means securing your status as future queen.” The words struck, even as she registered that he’d said your queen. Not our. “I know that you are the Slayer of Men, drowning whole ships on the ocean’s surface just for the fun of it.” A muscle in Ariel’s jaw ticked. “I know that you helped the Sea Queen overthrow your family so you could eventually become queen.” Her grip tightened on the dagger. “I know that if it ever came to it, your younger sister—”

He screamed as she embedded her dagger deep into his tail, so hard that it reverberated against the stone wall of the trench behind him. 

“You have three seconds to tell me what you know before I rip out your throat with my own gods-damned hands and feed you to the sharks,” she snarled. Her tone was lethal; even the guards flicked their tails warily as she wrenched the knife from his yellow tail. Blood seeped openly into the water, and the male screamed again when she dug the dagger into his shoulder. 

“Y-you’ll let me go if I tell you?” he gasped. “I have a family—”

“Three.”

“My wife can’t—”

“Two.”

“My daughters—”

“One.”

“Fine!” he cried as she shifted the dagger, widening the wound. He was nearly sobbing now from the pain. “What do you want to know?”

Ariel thought for a split second as she considered what information she wanted to give Bullus. “What are you planning?”

“To overthrow the sea queen,” he said. “Please, just get the knife out—”

“How? What’s your next move?”

“We don’t know yet,” he choked. “We’re meeting at a cave by the Reef of—”

Ariel twisted the knife, and the male screamed, cutting himself off. She didn’t want to hear the specifics, didn’t want to have to give those bits and pieces to Bullus. “When is your next attack?” she hissed.

He was sobbing, now, and tears ran down his cheeks as he rasped, “We’re going after the stronghold in the Caspian Sea. We don’t know when we’re going to attack. That’s all I know—please, please, I don’t want my girls growing up without me.” His chest heaved with each word, and each word was tinted with pain and fear.

Ariel pulled the dagger from his shoulder and put it to his throat.

“Please,” he whispered, choking on a sob. “Please.”

Ariel stared at him a moment longer. Another flash of gray and white caught her eye. She made her choice.

And began to sing.

Her voice—the one she got from her mother, that siren-like ability to control those around her—echoed through the trench as she sang. And in that song, in that haunting melody that had summoned storms strong enough to destroy ships, that had made sailors jump into the deadly waves, she wove a message to the male. 

Take your family and leave, she sang. As fast as you can. Change your name, find someone to cover up that scar on your face. Bind these wounds and go. Join one of the river tribes if you must. And remember none of this—not the rebels, not the attack, not me.

His eyes grew distant, dazed, as the song worked its magic. Soon enough, Ariel turned that song onto the guards, giving them but one order:

Let go of him.

The guards released the male, and as he raced from the trench, Ariel stopped her song. 

The guards snapped out of their stupor as he fled, their faces paling. One of them turned to Ariel. 

“You’ll bleed for this,” he snarled, pointing his sword at her. 

Ariel cocked her head. “No, I won’t,” she said softly. She met his gaze. “But you will.”

In one quick motion, she brought her dagger through the water and gutted him, grabbing the sword from his now-limp hand. It would cost her later, she knew, to return alone, but in that moment, she found that she didn’t particularly care. 

The other guard raised his sword, but it was over before it really began. In barely three swings, she’d found the opening she needed to stab him through the chest. He choked on his own blood before the light left his eyes.

A shadow passed over her, darkening the bloody water.

Ariel lifted her head, holding the shark’s gaze as she ripped the sword from the guard’s body. 

“Enjoy your dinner.” She turned away, holding her head high as the shark feasted on the bodies of the two guards.

[redblinkinglights]

4.04 House Divided

Spoilers incoming!

The Svetlana Situation

Svetlana: She definitely messed up but the punishment from the Russians would be far too severe for her crime. We’ve already seen how Sergei was treated. She looked rightfully terrified. I’m not sure how India would work as a punished party but it seems to be a better option than her being right under the thumb of a vengeful uncle. Although I’m guessing that the Russians finding out that they were the ones who caused the Kronos mission failure helped her.

Dani: Poor Dani having to deal with all this bullshit. She handled it like the best way she could. She had to keep Happy Valley running, not only keep their Russian counterparts continue cooperating but also provide a satisfactory punishment to keep everyone (Russians, US, Helios workers) involved happy. It was a terrible position to be put into. But she showed how much she thinks about her people by not throwing Svetlana to the wolves immediately. She had been stuck at Star City before with no word of what was going on, she knows how terrifying it feels.

Ed: Ed did what he always does, get blinded by his feelings of the people he cares about. He has never been a fan of the politics and red tape of things. He’s a good commander for a short term mission but not a long term one, definitely not of a base. But I imagine from his POV, this is yet another person he has let down, yet another person he couldn’t protect, another person he lost. It’s an ever growing list and it’s a heartbreaking one. The way he reacts rings true to someone who is trying to protect what little he has, especially someone in later stages. I have a hard time watching this man cry.

(Side note) Ed and Dani: I love this relationship so watching them argue was painful. But Dani calling Ed out was needed and fair especially when it came to Danny. I wish she had said what happened to him because I have to know. Interestingly Ed absolved himself of having anything to do with whatever it was. Still, at the end of the day Dani did want to be there for Ed. Also Krys and Joel having worked so long together are able to play off each other beautifully.

Sam: This us vs them sentiment of hers definitely jumped up after Parker died. And this incident probably brought it all back up. She’s probably going to be the driving force behind and uprising. I do commend her for going to Dani and talking to her but it’s clear that her sentiments isn’t going anywhere soon.

Hobson: It’s the first time we really see him this season. It’s also the first time we see him lose his usual upbeat persona that he tries to present. Feels like a man who knows his out of his depth but is just trucking on. But he backed Dani up (not that he could do much since she’s on Mars) so points to him.

Roscosmos

Irina: She’s definitely a going to be a challenge to the US. Not surprised that she told Hobson that Vasily’s familial connection had nothing to do with the repercussion Svetlana’s, then turn around and say the opposite to the board. Her knowing Sergei was expected.

Margo: Watching Margo having to sit quietly at the sidelines during the meeting is sad especially seeing where she was. But a space agency is definitely her place. Her mind is still as sharp as ever it was good to watch her work. Really thought she might pop up somewhere in the background of Irina’s pictures. There’s still time. I’m still afraid for her and want her out of Russia.

Kirill: His dismissal of Margo last time makes so much more sense now. He knew that Margo could easily find out what he’s trying to cover up. I knew as soon as the report was brought up he was going to try to pin the blame on Ed allowing the EVA. Except that was not the problem was it? The problem started when the equipment failed.

Tatyana: I hope we see more of her. I feel like Margo would be a better mentor than Kirill.

Black market

Ilya: He’s not wrong when he said expending the market would just invite more trouble. Keeping the tight lid on this makes it sustainable. More people knowing just means that there are more mouths that can open. I wonder if Ed’s instruction to do a security sweep will cause his operation to be discovered.

Miles: He is going in too hard, too fast. He was damn lucky that suit didn’t puncture or break when he fell. And that Rich came looking for him and Sam actually came to his rescue. Also are we going to see something between Sam and Miles?? What’s with this show and cheating partners?

Rich: Pretty much the only level headed person in that group. Understanding that Vasily was an ass but that Svetlana shouldn’t have pushed him. Gimme more Rich.

Other thoughts:

- Mayakovsky! That was such a sweet moment between him and Dani. “Not worse than what we’ve been through” I’ll say it again, I love the bond between those who stayed behind. It goes beyond their respective countries. I want so much more of them.

- I honestly didn’t expect to see Will again but I’m glad that we do. I really would like them to continue being players on the show.

- They call the space centre CSC for short because Cobb. 🥲

- What are Koreans doing that they need to smuggle in fungal cream? But hey, more customers for Ilya and Miles.

- Wtf are the US not using the metric system when sending over requirements for the clamps? Literally everyone in that M7 charter uses the metric system and they decide to just go nah?

- If Svetlana’s back on Earth who will Ed give the ‘blaze of glory’ speech to? Because it kinda looks like Kelly to me. But it’s just the back of the head so I can’t be sure. Also that would mean Kelly will go to Mars.

- Just putting it out there that Svetlana was born in 1971, 5 years after Kelly. You know what Ed was doing in 1971? Turning 40. Finding ice on the moon. Writing 8 year old Shane’s name on the moon.

[youmissedone]

Ada studied Carlos intently during his moment of silence. He probably didn’t believe her, and he had good reason not to. Although her attraction to him was strong, Ada still had missions whose completion would be more important than a silly fantasy about a man. She couldn’t avoid feeling attracted by Carlos’s kindness, and in some way, he brought out the best in her, but she felt that she’d betrayed his trust too severely for this to ever become something more. Besides, Carlos deserved better than someone like her. Maybe sometimes Ada had an ulterior motive, but not at this moment.

“You don’t need to apologize, but I do want to talk about it,” she admitted quietly. Ada had wrapped her arms around herself, and although it was lightly drizzling, she seemed to be both cold and uneasy. “Sometimes it’s really nice to have someone who understands.” With that, she smiled.

Ada worked for others, yet she was loyal to no one but herself. Wesker was the one who had sent her on this mission, but Carlos hadn’t figured that out yet, though she was almost certain he’d figure it out eventually. They were both people of color with excellent combat skills, mysterious backgrounds, and an incredible ability to adapt. Carlos was a good listener, and those similarities made it easier for Ada to open up to him.

“The story I told you before about my family is mostly false. You picked up on most of the fallacies - you were less naïve than I initially expected. My family was not very wealthy, but we never were involved in any uprisings like I said earlier, and we went to America when I was three. My parents wanted a better life for me. The American Dream, as they say. We had lost some of our money, and given we had little to begin with… I’m sure you understand. But we were never cheated out of a mass fortune. My father was killed when I was fifteen, and my mother and I never got along very well. I ran away. I learned to put on a cold mask, but it turned out my specific skill set was very useful to my organization. I didn’t go to school, though at one point I wanted to be an investigative journalist. Those skills got me hired. I did missions here and overseas. My organization trained me, and when I was twenty, I eventually infiltrated an organization here - they became one of the leading organizations of the Chinese underworld. The FBI crushed it, and I distanced myself from them. That’s when one of my employers found me, the one who sent me on the mission in Raccoon. I still work for the other organization, but I also work for him - I work for myself, mostly, but I’ll take what work I can get. Most of my missions come from the other organization.”

It was easy for Ada to lie to Carlos earlier, and it was easier to get him to believe her. Her story might’ve recalled his own personally experience as an immigrant, and his protective nature was clear to her from the moment they met. Ada’s past was filled with hardship, yes, but her story wasn’t as dark she’d initially led him to believe. Still, she wasn’t sure how much he trusted her after everything that went down in Raccoon.

“And then… I met you. One of my employers, he doesn’t work for the main company I work for, the one that trained me, but he pointed it out to me that there could be something more sinister about them. They’re no Umbrella, trust me, but they’re not as well-intentioned as I thought when I was younger. I was never loyal to them anyway, but spying is the only thing I really know how to do. I… I thought about contacting you, you know. You didn’t let me push you away, but I thought ‘Ada Wong’ needed to die. Turns out she’s the most alive she’s ever been.”

Ada laughed a little, but it was toneless and cold. She avoided making eye contact with Carlos. This was the most vulnerable she’d ever been with anybody, and although she typically didn’t like it, she wanted to be open with him for some reason. Her red sweater did little to keep her warm, but the long sleeves were nice, and she seemed to retreat into herself a little. Ada took a shaky breath. Her eyes were glassy with tears.

“Umbrella screwed over my family. My mother was a scientist, and my cousin wanted to follow in her footsteps. They were tortured and killed when they tried to look into Umbrella’s practices. It shouldn’t have surprised me, but that’s why I need to take them down. For my family, and for all the people like them out there. People like you, sort of. Is that - why did you join Umbrella?”

Ada leaned her head against Carlos’ shoulder. This was difficult for her to talk about, and having his physical support put her at ease. Her breathing was getting shallower and more panicked by the second.

“I told you this for a reason, though, Carlos. Deluge - the corporation that trained me - I think they might be allied with Umbrella to some degree. I know they’re lying to me about their involvement with what happened to my family. The timing of it happened too close to when they recruited me for it to be coincidental. They don’t trust me, though. They know I’m a threat. That’s where you come in… we need to get married.”

Ada’s heart raced as she suggested it. It was only a formality. A slip of paper to show the higher-ups at Deluge. Why, then, did she almost wish this could be real? Why, then, did she want to hold Carlos close and never let go?

“They know I’m a danger to them. I’m a good enough liar that I can sell the ingénue arc, but not on my own. There’d have to be a catalyst. If they thought I was so in love that I was blind, things might slip. I need to take them down almost as much as I need to take Umbrella down. Please, Carlos? I can’t do this without you.”

__________

“You bet,” Carlos said gently and with a little nod, willing to listen for as long as she needed. “Everyone needs a sympathetic ear once in a while. I don’t mind being that for you, Ada.” Her little smile made him smile briefly as well, before he gave her his undivided attention as she told him more about herself, and her reasons for being so hellbent on taking the Umbrella Corporation down.

He let her get everything out, not wanting to interrupt the process or make her feel like he wasn’t listening. What she needed was someone to just be there for her, not to give their opinion or offer advice. Sometimes just listening quietly did wonders for someone. It had for Carlos as well over the years, and it seemed to him like Ada hadn’t been offered that sort of empathy from anyone in a long time. It all began to make a lot of sense to him, the more she explained. The inconsistencies and things that didn’t quite sit well with him during her first explanation of her past now felt more real, more genuine.

And her demeanor, the way she carried herself, the way she spoke... that made more sense now as well. She felt the need to guard herself and to maintain a cold exterior. That kept her safe in a number of ways, not all of which were physical. If one pretended to not care about anyone else, it’s easy to lie to oneself. It’s easy to remain closed off so you don’t get hurt. Carlos understood that type of mindset, for he’d encountered it in any number of people in his town and even his own family back in Brazil. He absolutely understood that survival mechanism some people developed to emotionally cope with the trajectory their lives had taken, even if that wasn’t how he lived his own life. Even with all the trauma that had been heaped on him over the years, Carlos still lived his life with a heart wide open. Did he get hurt sometimes? Sure. Was that gonna make him afraid to feel in the future? Hell no. He was sad for Ada that she saw emotions as liabilities in her life, but boy did he understand why.

What worried him, was that in all the masking and guarding of her identity that Ada had been doing, whether for a mission or just to protect herself emotionally, seemed to have muddled her view of her own identity. Who was Ada Wong, really? Her true self, or just a persona she’d conjured up to serve a purpose? Carlos didn’t care about names or even affiliations. Those could change, could be altered, and could come and go over the years. He could see the person she was underneath everything else, from just the small glimpses here and there that she showed him. He only hoped that she could somehow find a way to be at peace with whoever she truly wanted to be.

Only when prompted did Carlos speak up, answering her question regarding his reasons for joining Umbrella’s ranks. “When I left Brazil, I was largely self-trained, or trained by other members of my family, like my uncle. Having lost most of my family by the time I was a teenager, I decided to leave and go where I was needed. I’ve always wanted to help people, so I became a mercenary. I figured... let people hire me to get things done they can’t do themselves, and maybe I can make a difference somewhere. But my skills were rough at best, and my discipline was even worse, and I was flat broke half the time. So... after I worked my way through Mexico and arrived in the United States, I started looking into the military there. Surprise surprise, it’s not that easy for a South American immigrant with a history like mine to join the military in the States,” he said with a chuckle as he idly rubbed the back of his neck.

“That’s when a friend I was staying with at the time told me Umbrella was hiring. At first I didn’t really understand, because what does a pharmaceutical company need with paramilitary? But on the surface they seemed to care about medical science and improving the lives of the general public, and that was something I could get behind. They were willing to pay for room, board, equipment, and training for me, there were advancement options, the way they framed the work sounded like I’d be mostly helping people... it sounded good. But I was young and stupid and I should’ve known something was up when they had me sign a lengthy nondisclosure agreement...”

There was a bitterness directed at Umbrella but also himself in his tone. How could he have been this naive? How could he not have seen the signs? “I thought I’d be protecting people, and instead I ended up being employed by the company that was part of the problem, not the solution. I made a mistake. It’s not gonna happen again, and Umbrella isn’t going to get away with any of this. I’m going to help take them down, or die trying,” he said firmly.

When she leaned her head against his shoulder, Carlos slipped an arm around her shoulders. Not to try anything, he wasn’t making a move on her or anything, that would’ve been an insensitive thing to do at a moment like this. No, he just recognized by her body language how she was folding in on herself and was feeling protective towards her. He just wanted to help stabilize her a little, if he could. “It’s okay,” he whispered, prompting her to continue and letting her know he was still willing to listen, if there was more.

And oh man... was there ever more. “I- Wait, what?” Carlos asked, blindsided by her suggestion. “Get married?” He knew she was into him, but he didn’t think that much, and so he fell silent once again as she explained further. It... actually made a decent amount of sense. “You really think something like that would make them slip up that much? Enough so you can get the upper hand on them?” He didn’t know this other organization, but he wondered if such a tactic would really work on Umbrella...

But he could hear in her voice how important this was to her, and he wanted to take Umbrella down as well, so... “Okay. Yeah. Sure. Why not?” he said with a shrug. “I’ll do it. And then we can take both these entities down... together. We trust each other, we work together, and we make sure they can’t hurt anyone else when we’re through with ‘em. Deal?” he offered.

[beantothemax]

Behold Fic. Tw for Vague suicidal ideation, violent intrusive thoughts, and Hikari not really letting himself feel anything other than detached numbness. He’s really not doing well.

“Hikari, what are you doing?”

Hikari freezes in place. Right. Right it may be late but not everyone would be asleep. Kazan especially was already one to stay up late, he should have realized that before he packed his things.

“I’m just going out on a stroll Kazan,” he lies. “Do not worry. I’ll be back shortly.”

Kazan glances at his bag and back at him. “Is the stroll going to involve you walking to the other side of the Continent because it sure looks like it.”

He really shouldn’t have packed his bag immediately.

Hikari laughs nervously. “I don’t know what you mean Kazan.”

“Hikari I can clearly see your bag packed, you’re trying to leave.”

Play dumb! screams the Curse, a rare statement not involving bloodlust.

“What bag?”

Not that dumb!

Kazan groans and put his hands to his face. “My Prince, I’m going to pretend that wasn’t a horrific form of lying and instead just tell you to get back to bed. Castti just fixed both of us up and if she finds out we’re out of our beds she’s going to kill us. That is not exaggeration. I genuinely think she will kill us if she finds out we’re out of our beds.”

While he doubts Castti would kill them if she finds out they’re up, she would give a stern talking to both of them and probably strap them to their beds to rest. He’s seen it happen before with Partitio and frankly he is not looking forward to that.

At the same time though, he needs to go. The Curse sings to him louder and louder and every day it is getting harder to ignore. If he stays any longer he’ll hurt his companions. He already gave in to the Curse so many times over this Journey, much more than when he was at Ku. In Wellsgrove he had it take over him completely and almost striked down General Rou.

And then Kazan revealed that he caused Mugen’s uprising and all Hikari could think about is the amount of people who died that day and how it was all caused by him and how easy it would be to run his sword through him and kill him and bring justice and-

We can still kill him now Hikari. It sings.

It would be so easy. No one is awake. We can finish the job that you started and you fled from. Give in to that anger. Give in and let the blood spill. Give in~

He closes his eyes, breathes, and tries to will the Curse to go away. Kazan is his friend and even though there is still some loathing buried inside him, there is no reason for him to kill. Kazan regrets it and right now Hikari has to move on and let it go. He has to let this whole thing go and give Kazan a second chance at fixing things. Nothing is gained from needless bloodshed.

Faintly, he hears someone sit on his bed. “Okay how about this, I’m going to take your stuff and put it in Partitio’s room because clearly right now you are going to make a stupid decision if I don’t.”

Hikari blinks and comes back to himself. Right. He’s trying to leave.

Kazan moves his bag away before he can grab it. “I would say that I don’t know why you’re leaving but that’s a lie, so I’m going to assume that the reason you’re leaving has something to do with…” He gestured vaguely. “…the whole Wellsgrove conversation thing.”

Hikari flinched.

“And apparently I’m right,” Kazan sighs. “Great. Love it when I’m right about things I don’t want to be right about.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he says. It’s true. It’s nothing he can’t handle. He kept the Curse in check before and he can do it again. He’s done it for 8 years, he can survive a little longer with it before finding a more…permanent solution to it.

We both know you don’t want to die Hikari.

He closes his eyes again and breathes. He’ll figure out that solution later and he’s sure that he won’t resort to that. Hopefully.

It does take care of the Curse though…and it’s not like the country would fall apart if he was gone. He can trust his friends to take care of things so if something happened to him then-

“I really doubt that you are handling it well.”

The Prince shakes his head. “I am. I’m keeping it under control.”

“…Which is why you packed your stuff and planned on leaving,” he says slowly.

He really shouldn’t have packed his bag immediately.

Kazan sighs. “Okay, do you want me to leave for a little while? At least after Partitio does his Department Store with Alrond?”

Hikari blinks. “You’re leaving?”

“Not permanently,” the other says quickly. “Not permanently. Just long enough so that we both have time to think.”

He tilts his head. “Why would you want to leave?”

“I don’t know Hikari maybe because I just went and told you I caused the downfall of Ku and made the plan for your brother to ascend the throne.”

He’s practically admitting it! Aren’t you angry? Don’t you want to kill him and spill his blood and give justice to all those who died because of him? Don’t you want to do it Hikari?

He squashes the resentment down. “I fail to see how that connects with the fact that you’re leaving.”

Kazan blinks and looks at him incredulously. “Hikari,” he says slowly. “You can be mad at me. I would rather you be mad at me then have you doing…whatever this is.”

“I’m taking a stroll,” he supplies helpfully.

“Yes, you’re taking a stroll for about…” Kazan checks the bag. “…5 days.”

“…It’s a long stroll.”

“Hikari I’m serious about you being mad at me. Ritsu was mad at me when we told him what I did. Literally everything I did is a good reason to be mad.”

He’s putting himself up to you! Now’s your chance! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill-

“I have no reason to be mad,” he pleasantly says. Because really, he has no reason to be mad. If he ignores it long enough then the pain will fade away and the Voice would go and just shut up for onece.

Kazan stares at him.

“Okay.” The man stands up. “Okay you’re not going to go and talk about what’s bothering you today.”

“Nothing is bothering me,” he says, ignoring the clamoring song in his head.

“Oh gods we are going to need so much therapy.”

Now that’s something that Hikari can agree with.

“We’re going to need so much therapy,” Kazan continues. “And we’re going to go and have you talk about what’s wrong when Partitio and Throné are done here.”

“After we take back Ku we’ll talk.”

“Absolutely not we have to talk about it some point. If you don’t want that then when I rejoin you at Ryu.”

“After we take back Ku,” he insists. “And you’re not going to leave.”

“Stormhail,” Kazan offers. “How about that? Stormhail and I stay. Close enough to when we launch our strike against Mugen and I’m staying. We’ll talk then.”

Hikari thinks.

Enough time to plan the murder. Perfect Hikari! I knew you would come around eventually! We’ll bathe in the blood of your friends and that wretched Clan at Stormhail! Oh and your little Traveling Companions! They may join the rabble and give the countermelody to our song! Oh it’s so wonderful! It’s so beautiful! Oh Hikari-

Silence Imposter.

The Prince bows his head. “I accept,” he says quietly.

At that, Kazan visibly relaxes. “I’m holding you up to that my Prince. Remember that.”

Hikari smiles softly. “Of course. I never intentionally break my promises.”

And what about the promises of being by your friends side? What happens when you finally snap and kill them? What then?

It’s fine. He’ll be sure to prevent that from happening in the future. One way or another.

Kiwi have I told you how much I love your writing

the prelude to stormhail… im certain nothing bad or traumatic will happen to anyone there! why do I hear boss music.

kazan just saying ‘we are going to need so much therapy’ is amazing. because goodness gracious they are

AND!!!! the curse trying to get Hikari to kill Kazan during the whole fic!!!! it’s getting harder to ignore!!!!! aaaaa!!!

ALSO HIKARI. HIKARI ACTUALLY TALK ABOUT YOUR ISSUES. IT HELPS. HIKARI. BEING THE BOSS IN YOUR OWN FOURTH CHAPTER IS NOT A HEALTHY WAY OF LETTINH YOUR FEELINGS OUT. HIKARI-

kiwi i am so so excited for the stormhail fic you have no idea

[liesmyth]

Who are the Houses fighting, anyway?

Thinking about the Cohort and the Houses’ endless military campaign in TLT. Thematically, I love the idea of John being at war for thousands of years with the descendants of those who betrayed him etc., but in practice, the logistics of the war just... don't make sense.

We know the Houses have been at war for a long time. Thousands of years, an insane amount of time fighting the same war. “Eternal war” could be a plausible scenario between two similarly-sized forces locked in a stalemate, but this hasn’t been shown to be the case. It would maybe be plausible if the Houses were shown to have a super ineffective offence force, but this again isn’t the case.

Troop casualties seem to be relatively common (lots of "went to the Cohort and died” mentioned) but at the same time is a massive fucking deal in HtN that BoE destroyed three ships and took out eighteen thousand people. It throws the entire into disarray and warrants a sudden reassignment of the Emperor’s Guard to the combat front to make up for it. So yes, their conquest strategy relies very heavily on sending in the infantry to die, but not to the point that every battle is a slaughter or those numbers wouldn’t cause that reaction. They seem to be a fairly effective force, and and before canon era they hadn’t lost a ship in a THOUSAND years.

Speaking of conquests. A lot of the fighting “lore” that is mentioned in the series involves ground fighting and planetary conquests, but all of the action that is actually described as having happened in the series was either putting down uprisings or dealing with fringe groups. Blood of Eden are an insurrection movement, not an enemy force, and no inhabited planets are mentioned that are outside House control. They are not a conquering force, they are an occupying force. That we know of.

So who exactly are they fighting? Actually who even is left to fight? Like, at some point, you HAVE to run out of planets to conquer. You HAVE to run out of non-House humans to subdue — and travelling cosmic distances without necromancy is very hard. The FTL ships and their descendants can’t have spread that far; they were strained for resources, jumping blind, and I doubt they had an easy time of it.

Some speculation:

Aliens. Like, I’m sure this is not the case, but everything would make SO much more sense if they were fighting an alien empire the next galaxy over, and the ongoing occupation of BoE planets and Empire building is part of that. I give it a 0% possibility of being true but still. Aliens.

Massive unreliable narrator failure. There IS a space empire next door built by humans but nobody mentions it because it didn’t have tits so Gideon didn’t care and everyone knows anyway.

Plot hole. Even the best authors have ‘em! Let Tamsyn live.

Free square ????

Enigmatic John Quote of the Post:

[Talking about the death of Dominicus if he were to die] I can only hope you’d all be dead already. Oh, there’d still be Cohort ships … hold planets … a scattering of us … but we would be so few, and so many people hate us, and my work is not yet done.

WHOMST, John. Notably, all through HtN he keeps talking about the tattered remains of Blood of Eden slithering out of the shadows, a group of maniacs, died with Wake etc. so I doubt he means them. So. WHO.

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

Our little love - mafia/soft Yandere au OT7 Drabble

So I might’ve started this with a little angst and really soft hints of yandere behaviour however I think I might do a part two for this with a little bit more yandere and jealousy vibes (I got ideas okay, just needed a starting point)

“Tell me why I shouldn’t put a bullet in your head little love?” Even with the gun pressed firmly against your head, the cold of the barrel threatening to do as he said, you know Yoongi won’t do it, even if you deserved it.

All seven of them stand around you, no matter which way you face you’re met with the disappointment and the consequence of your betrayal in their eyes, but you refuse to look down in shame, you deserved to feel the guilt that pumped in your veins.

“He asked you a question Y/n,” Jin doesn’t have the smile he reserves for you on his face, all their demenor’s are cold, and you are the reason why.

“You love me,” you whisper, looking Yoongi dead in the face with no fear.

“I thought you loved us too,” Namjoon steps forward, breaking the circle around you, coming close to stand next to Yoongi. He has his hands in the pockets of his black blazer, silver hair pushed back.

“Was it all a lie?” if a voice could break you it would always be Jungkook’s, he was the one it took the longest to become close to, and when you had you could see the softness in his eyes despite his career. Of course he would sound the most hurt, he trusted you the most.

Yoongi, with his unfaltering gun, was the other member of their team that took you almost as long as Jungkook to get close to. While Jungkook was just shy, Yoongi didn’t trust anyone, he pushed people away, hurt them to keep them far, you learnt that the hard way. While his eyes looked like they held no emotion in this moment, you knew better, he had shown you his soul, you could see behind the barrier of his expression.

You took his wrist into your hand and pressed the gun harder against you.

“You should shoot me,” it would be better to be dead than live without them, they would never forgive you for what you’d done. The betrayal cut too deep, these wounds wouldn’t heal.

Yoongi scoffs, but you don’t let his wrist go.

“I told you all she shouldn’t be trusted,” he says to the others. “Why would a girl like her fall for men like us?”

You can feel the pain in his words, because above all else, no matter what he says, Yoongi just wants to be loved. They all do, that’s why it was almost too easy.

“Well now we know, don’t we babe?”

“That wasn’t my intention,” you swallow the sob that threatens to rise in your throat, you hate seeing him like this, you hate that you’re the reason why they’re hurt. Every time they came home with a bullet, or a cut or wound, it would kill you inside and you realised then you were compromised.

“No your intention was to infiltrate our defenses and rat us out,” Jimin’s the one to chime in, standing next to Tae who looks at you like you’re dead to him.

“Detective L/n, did you really think we’d never find out?”

You look to your side to make sure Jimin could see the honesty in your eyes.

“It wasn’t my intention to fall for you,” you sound like you’re choking with the way you’re holding back tears, but you don’t want to cry in front of them, it would feel like giving up.

You were assigned to go undercover to infiltrate the uprising gang called BTS, they climbed the heirarchy of organised crime too quickly, too dangerously, something had to be done. You went in with every intention set to take them down until you got to know them, love them, and you knew then you couldn’t do your job. The internal battle to do what was right but felt wrong and what was wrong but felt so right was causing all your morals to be questioned.

Tae scoffs at you now, not believing a word from your mouth.

“I don’t think we should kill her Hyung,” he says to Yoongi, “she needs to feel her betrayal, it would be too easy to escape us with death.”

Namjoon hums in agreement. The cold of the gun leaves your skin and you almost feel unsteady without it. Yoongi doesn’t look at you anymore now that it’s not there, instead he takes your wrist as you previously had, and they walk you to the car. You don’t fight, or talk, or argue, or ask what they wanted to do to you.

The boys had trusted you infinitely, while others had agendas and seeked their downfall they knew you were the only one that wouldn’t betray them, how wrong they were. For your safety they kept an eye on you, when you went out one of them would follow to ensure their little love didnt get into trouble or worse, get hurt. Imagine their surprise when you walked into the police station.

You didn’t tell them you went in to hand in your notice, unable to continue with this lie, it didn’t matter, the damage was done, anything you said would be meaningless.

Your sat inbetween Jungkook and Hoseok, who still hadn’t uttered a word to you, but you could see him restraining his hurt and anger. Jin was in the drivers seat with Yoongi beside him. The others must’ve taken the other car, you don’t really acknowledge it you’re too deep in your own thoughts.

You don’t come up for air until you feel a hand soft on yours in your lap, Jungkook doesn’t look at you, just at how he’s stroking the back of your hand with his thumb comfortingly. You don’t mean for your heart to swell in your chest, pushing the tears up and out.

Jin and Yoongi don’t miss the way your bottom lip trembles in the rear view mirror, the small sniffles or the tears glistening down your face that you wipe away quickly with your other hand. Hobi puts his arm around you, still looking out the window as if you’re not there, but his actions show what they all know in their hearts; they still loved you.

“Why are you crying baby girl you’re not the one with the knife in your back,” Hobi mumbles. They think you’re scared of what they’re going to do with you now they know, but that couldn’t be further from your mind. They want to reassure you, but the words are stuck in their throats.

“You need to be punished darling, otherwise you won’t learn,” Jin can see you nodding to his words in the mirror in acceptance.

“I know.”

——————————————————————————

You expected them to put you in the cellar where they tortured their enemies, you don’t even realise you’re in the living room until you’re placed on the couch. You don’t look up until Namjoon is standing in front of you.

He traces his finger from the edge of your jaw to your chin, your eyes big on him from his soft touch. The calm should scare you, but the only anxiety you have is over whether you should hope for another chance or whether they’ll throw you onto the street when they’re done.

When a tear hits Namjoon’s hands he frowns, they didn’t expect this from you when they confronted you with what they uncovered. They expected you to reveal another face, the true colours beneath the girl they all fell hard for, kick and scream and throw insults their way over the life they had, how awful they were, how they didn’t deserve to be loved. But you kept quiet, eerily quiet, and they didn’t know what to think anymore.

Letting you leave was out of the question, whether you wanted to stay or not. Not because they were concerned that you had seen too much, they didn’t care, they couldn’t imagine their lives without you anymore. The trust might’ve faded, but their love for you was real. Yoongi might’ve created a farce with the gun to your head but it was done to see your reaction, the truth behind the last 6 months of your relationship.

They expected you to beg for your life like every other person at their mercy, but you always defied their expectations.

“You’re so quiet my love,” Namjoon says to you. “Nothing you want to say to defend yourself?”

You shake your head, no there was nothing you want to say or explain.

“Then you take your punishment without complaint?”

You nod without hesitation.

Namjoon releases a deep breath, building the nerve to do what they knew would reveal whether your feelings for then were real or a lie you fabricated for your job. But he wasn’t one to easily be vulnerable, especially not after the blow that they faced today.

Jimin can sense it, the words on their leader’s lip, and he decides to take over. Namjoon steps aside as Jimin kneels on the floor in front of you. He takes your hands that are fidgeting on your lap and place them by your side on the seat, resting the weight of his head there instead.

He hugs your lap with so much love you can’t mistake it for an illusion, he rubs his head into you as much as he can.

“Stay with us,” if his actions weren’t a shock to your system enough, his words pushed you over the edge. You look into each of their eyes and the vulnerability you had learned to recognise was there begging you to want to stay.

“But I...” you don’t know what you want to say, the beating of your own heart was overwhelming in your chest. “I- I hurt you all so much.”

Yoongi hums in agreement, stepping forward to stroke your hair back, the hurt was still there they couldn’t lie to you, but losing you would be worse.

“Do you love us?” Jungkook asks taking a seat beside you, Taehyung sits by your other side. Jimin rubs little circles into your thigh while they wait for your answer.

“So much,” you confess. “I couldn’t do it, I- I”

Your words break off in a sob, as Tae takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to the back of it, a weight lifted off his chest. Jungkook pulls you into him, arms wraps around you as you let out your cries and the man in your lap places little kisses on the expanse of your thighs. You feel overwhelmed with the love theyre displaying when you were expecting their hate.

“But I dont understand,” you cry, “why aren’t you all angry, why aren’t you yelling at me?”

“We love you too,” Jin smiles the way he only reserves for you, and you feel thankful for it.

“It doesn’t matter how you got to us dove,” Hobi comes to kneel beside Jimin, wanting to be close to you too. “If it weren’t for your job you wouldn’t have met us.”

“I don’t know about that Hobi,” Namjoon chuckles. “You were meant for us my love, we would have found you one way or another.”

“We forgive you,” Jungkook kisses your hair. “Just don’t leave us.”

“We wouldn’t let you go even if you tried,” Tae voice rumbles in, leaning his face against your neck while the youngest holds you, still latched to your hand.

“You’re ours,” Jimin’s muffled voice comes from your lap, he’s pressed his face into you.

They would never let you go, and you don’t want them to. You thought all they wanted was love, but now you think you’ve reflected your own desire into them, they just wanted you.

[adlbeay]

I wanted to talk about the themes in the Walk in the Dust event. The story of Arknights has always had a high level of thematic consistency, but it’s especially prominent in this event. I feel like a lot of the discussion of the story in certain places comes down to “lore” and surface-level plot details, so I wanted to get this out there somewhere.

The two big ideas that are covered in Walk in the Dust are that of revenge and the homeland. Let's talk about revenge first. Long post and story spoilers under the cut.

In the beginning, we are introduced to Elliot, aka Passenger, who by the time we meet him, is an aimless husk of a man. He is utterly empty inside despite being the most powerful figure in the Reefsteep black  market, with vast wealth and political influence under his thumb. Having completed his decades-long quest to slay everyone who was involved in betraying his teacher, he has no more goals for his life. After killing  the Lord Ameer of Ibut, the last of his targets, he realizes that the revenge he had been pursuing was ultimately empty, that the weapons he built and the schemes he engineered to that end no longer moved him. Even the death of the Lord Ameer didn't matter one bit in the political landscape of Sargon.

As for the Sargon army... We live in different times now. The ruling  Padishahs simply care not about what is happening here in this barren  wasteland. My guess is that it matters not to them whether it's the  father or the son that's in charge. Actually, to tell the truth, it  hardly matters to me either.

Ultimately, no one cared if the Lord Ameer was murdered or simply  died in an accident, not even Elliot himself. Sargon continues to be exploited by the Columbian military and the ruling Lords. Professor Thorne remains dead. His research, once entrusted to Elliot to prevent  it from becoming a weapon of war, has nonetheless been used by Elliot  himself to bring even more death. Now, 22 years later, Passenger sees  finding Kal'tsit as his only path to salvation, so that she can once  again give him a purpose like she did when she rescued him the first time.

Folinic's mom, Lillia, also shares the same kind of story. Her husband was killed in Chernobog when the count decided to purge the researchers working on the sarcophagus device. Among the children of the families broken up by this incident are Lyudmila (later Crownslayer), Alex and Misha (later Skullshatterer), and Luisa (later Folinic). Lillia finds Kal'tsit after months of searching, intending to take revenge on  Grand Duke Vanya not just for her husband, but also for Luisa, who never got to know her father because of it. Kal'tsit tries to talk her out of  it, even during the final phases of the plan, but Lillia's mind is set.  She entrusts Kal'tsit with taking care of both Luisa and Lyudmila, as  she knows she won't be able to come back to live a normal life after  this. And... she succeeds. Although it is Kal'tsit who ultimately administered the poison, their plan works flawlessly and Duke Vanya is finally dead.

Except it still ended up being completely meaningless. The Grand Duke was in a glorified nursing home already near the end of his life, and if Kal'tsit didn't kill him then some other conspirator from the Ursus  political backstage would have done it anyway. He was already crippled and blind, and as we find out during the confrontation with the Emperor's Blade, even Kal'tsit only agreed to Lillia's plan because it  defused the conspiracies of other powerful figures who would have used  the Duke's death to spark another rebellion. The only thing that Lillia ended up accomplishing was making sure that Louisa would grow up without both a mother and a father, and Lyudmila would never get the answers she really wanted about her family's death. And, although she ended up not doing it, she was even also planning to go back to Chernobog to kill  Sergei, Alex and Misha's father, for his betrayal.

And this carries on through the future outside the event. Crownslayer ends up joining Reunion because she thinks it will give her the answers  she wants and avenge her father. Folinic almost lets her anger at Atro's death get her into a confrontation with Wolumonde. In the end, Crownslayer is stopped by Kal'tsit and Folinic is calmed down by  Suzuran, but we might be able to imagine what would have happened if  they managed to carry out their vengeance.

The theme of homeland is one that's intrinsically tied to Kal'tsit and has at least a bit of relation to the broader story outside of the event. It's harder to talk about since it's not clearly  split into individual stories like previously, but there's at least one character that exemplifies this theme the most: Old Isin.

Old Isin is appropriately to his name, old as rocks. He remembers being a servant to some lord of a long-lost city that very few even know once existed, and spends his time telling fortunes while trying to seek out people who, like him, also share that past. According to Kal'tsit, the city's people were scattered when it was destroyed, and now only Isin even remembers the origin of the name "Reefsteep". Even then, Isin only has vague memories, and believes it to be his unforgivable sin that  he has forgotten so much about the city.

Old Isin originally helps Kal'tsit and Elliot because he hopes that  she can help him remember about the lost city, and thus absolve his  "unforgivable sin". And Kal'tsit indeed does help him. Isin begins to recall the conquests of armies a thousand years ago, something even with  his age he should not have been a part of, much less remembered.  Kal'tsit dispels the illusions clouding his memory, and reveals that  what Isin remembers is only the stories that the padishah recounted to  him, that the glory of his old city was only a memory of another memory. In truth, the city in Old Isin's memory was merely a stepping stone for the padishah's ambition to conquer the uncharted deserts, and was abandoned just as easily when that campaign failed. His homeland's glory was just an illusion created in his mind by the padishah's charisma.

Which brings us to the Emperor's Blade. Wherever he stands is the dominion of the Empire of Ursus. Whatever he does carries out the Ursus Emperor's will. Or at least, that's how the Royal Guards imagine themselves, single-handedly carrying out their homeland's legacy. Kal'tsit lays it out clearly:

Kal'tsit: Tell me, what does the current Ursus Emperor think of the Pine Valley affair? Or do you mean to tell me the seeds of that uprising, the origins of the crisis were all the will of the Emperor? Feel free to keep deceiving yourself, but the truth is the young emperor is unaware of the events that transpired there. You believe he has no  need to know. You... all of you seek a bygone era. You are just caught up in the former emperor's grand vision!

As does Patriot in Chapter 8:

Patriot: I fought with your fathers. Your strength and tactical acumen are no less impressive than theirs. But you look at the Ursus of those times with rose-colored glasses. What you see is nothing more than your wild fantasies.

The Royal Guards are described in not too unclear words as soldiers  who probably believed too much of their own grandiose affect. They are unparalleled fighters, to be sure, but it isn't hard to infer that those words about executing Ursus's will and each Royal Guard being his own nation are words intended to strike fear into their enemies rather than  statements of any real truth. Indeed, if you know anything about the internal politics of Ursus, the idea of "Ursus's own will" can be seen as more of a nostalgia at a bygone era when Ursus was, or at least seemed, united in conquest under the previous Emperor. The perceived glory of their homeland is what motivates the Emperor's Blade, but like with Old Isin, the truth behind it is shaky at best.

We also have the contrast between the retired veteran at Pine Valley  and Grand Duke Vanya. While talking to Witte, the veteran cuts off one of his own fingers, claiming that the scars he has suffered in Ursus's wars, once considered symbols of his glory and honor, were ultimately meaningless, and he wants this self-inflicted wound to be his only legacy to Ursus. At the same time, the Grand Duke is postulating about how the seeds he had sown in the winter would give birth to beautiful flowers. Even though his actions and the crimes he committed never bore fruition, he is convinced even in death that Ursus's soil will bloom.

The issue of a real or imagined homeland, and its loss, is also  shared by the Sarkaz as a whole not only in this story but in the main story and many other events. It's even arguable that Rhodes Island's mission to help the Infected was originally inherited from Babel's goal of establishing a stable homeland for the Sarkaz. After all, as pointed  out in many places, the Infected and Sarkaz share much of the same discrimination.

Sarkaz Mercenary: Home...? How could us devils... us Infected possibly have one... Kal'tsit: The Sarkaz have tried to rebuild 'Kazdel', their home for centuries, though they have never succeeded. Everyone has a different idea as to what the term 'homeland' means, but as it stands right now,  Kazdel is perhaps as close as you can get to the term's original meaning.

And in Twilight of Wolumonde:

Armed Infected: We’re going home? To what home?

Mudrock: Kazdel. There may be no place for Sarkaz outside of Kazdel.  But in Kazdel, there is a place for you. Not because of tolerance. But because there is... nothing there. Kazdel... is where the homeless go. A land of rootless people.

So what does all this have to do with Kal'tsit?

In the ending cutscene, Passenger asks Kal'tsit whether this "Rhodes  Island" is yet another passing persona to be used to accomplish a goal and discarded when it's complete. Like the persona of the Trusted  Advisor, or the Servant, or the Laterano Cleric, will she abandon Rhodes  Island as well? Kal'tsit initially puts up a front saying he has no  right to ask, then bluffs about having thousands of answers, but is pushed by Passenger saying he'll even accept a lie. In one of the only times we get to see Kal'tsit faltering, she actually has no answer to this.

Unlike the other characters we see throughout the story, Kal'tsit has no homeland. No matter how fake or illusory it is, Old Isin and the Royal Guard have something to believe about a place where they can belong. The nobles in Victoria, as incompetent as they appear from the outside, are dedicated to defending the peace of their home despite having no ruler. Even the ostracized Sarkaz can ultimately go back to Kazdel, as unpleasant as that might be. But while Kal'tsit wanders the earth to keep the homelands of others from falling into chaos, she has no homeland of her own to go back to.

In one of the trailers for Chapter 9, we hear a recording from Theresa, addressed to Kal'tsit: "I hope this Rhodes Island can be a place to call home, a place you can always return to."

[darling-i-read-it]

New Power

Aleksander Morozova (The Darkling) x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: pain, talks of stabbing, screaming, talks of genyas trauma, HUGE spoilers for king of scars and rule of wolves, let me know if I forgot anything!

Author’s Note: In honor of bens first single! Go listen to 11:11!!

Summary: You are being helf captive in the castle after the death of the Darkling because you were his partner in crime. You feel his return before anyone can tell you.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Genya still couldn’t look at you for more than five seconds. Aleksander had been dead for years now but you were just a mere reminder that he existed and so did his influence. That those who followed him would claw at the castle doors if it meant seeing you just one more time. The people who believed in the Starless Saint would sit and stare at the castle, knowing the Darklings one and only were in there. They believed you would lead them until his return.

They never grieved him because he wasn’t gone. He was in the markets, being sold. He was in the stories. Remains of him were in Genya’s pain and all those who died at the Fold. Even the barren wastelands felt like him.

You were still grieving him. You figured you would never stop. He had been a part of your life for hundreds of years, you refused to believe that he could just...not be there anymore. That he would never be there again.

“Why don’t we just kill her again?” Zoya asked as she walked to your heavily guarded cell. She asked that question almost every time she came to visit you, which was rarely. She preferred to forget you exist.

“Because she’s the only thing keeping the Darklings remaining followers from uprising,” Nikolai explained matter-of-factly. Then he smiled slyly. “Which means we get to keep her in that damn cell forever.”

“Also the fact we don’t know how to kill her,” Genya grumbled. It was odd to see Genya like that. Sure, she had anger from the past but she never showed it. Instead she usually kept a collected and calm manor.

“Not without Alina,” Zoya said, annoyed.

“Y/N almost took Alina out before she even had the chance to get to the Darkling,” Nikolai said. “We’re lucky we had her at all to charm the Darkling into death.” Zoya rolled her eyes and approached the door.

The guards, some very powerful Grisha, stepped aside. Genya waited outside. She didn’t want to see you but she wanted to be close in case you tried something. Nikolai opened the door and there you sat, looking out the very small window that was provided to you. You didn’t look over at them when they entered.

“Do you need something?” you asked evenly. Zoya hated being here. She hated it with every fiber of her being. But you were one of the only people who might know how to get rid of the monster inside of Nikolai.

“How well did you understand the Darklings' power?” Zoya asked calmly. You looked over at them. Your face was collected.

“Better than anyone but him.”

“Then you know how to get this out of me,” Nikolai said. He pulled up the small metal chair off the side of the wall and sat down. “I prefer to get straight to the point. My apologies ladies.” You met his eyes. Even your gaze made him want to retreat into himself. You couldn’t use your power in this room, David had made sure of it. But sometimes it felt like you still had a gentle pull.

“The only person that could do that is dead,” you said. “You all made sure of that.” Zoya scoffed.

“Should we have just kept him alive then?” she asked.

“General,” Nikolai said, his eyes still on you. He was challenging you. “What do you suggest we do then?” You leaned forward.

“Learn to live with it King of Scars,” you whispered. “The darkness isn’t all bad.”

“That’s enough,” Zoya said. She put his hand on Nikolai’s shoulder and he stared at you for just a moment longer. You weren’t going to help them. They killed your one and only love.

“Fine. Have it your way,” Nikolai said. He would take the window out. He wasn’t a cruel king but he was a reasonable one.

====

You sat in your cell, counting the tiles on the ceiling as though you didn’t know how many there were. You were biding your time, you promised yourself. You could find a way out. Even if it had been ages since you had seen any real action or been able to use your power. You missed the feeling in your chest as it escaped your fingertips. You took a deep breath and stood up, trying to take off the cover the guards had put on the window. You missed the night sky.

Suddenly you felt all the breath leave you. You kneeled over, hands on your knee and on the wall to steady yourself. You stumbled over, falling to the ground. There was something happening. You almost akinned it to using your power but it was bitter. It felt like something was taking from you. You screamed.

The guards had never heard you so much as make a peep when you were alone. Sure sometimes you made sly jokes but you never complained or feigned injury. They looked through the small barred window at you.

“What do we do?” one asked.

“General Nazyalensky isn’t here,” the other said. That’s who they would report this to. Zoya and Nikolai. Zoya was out missing somewhere, they didn’t know where.

“I’ll get the King.”

He rushed through the castle until they made it to the kings chambers. He thought he should knock but found himself opening the door anyway. Issak Andreyev, tailored to look like Nikolai Lantsov, sat on the grand bed. He jumped at the door opening.

“My apologies, your highness,” the guard said. “It’s Y/N. She’s screaming.”

Issak racked his brain. He had been forced to learn so many names that for a second, yours escaped his mind. Then it hit him. The Darklings lover. No one had said anything about dealing with you.

“I uh...let me get Genya,” he said quickly. The guard’s eyebrow furrowed but followed Isaak's lead to Genya and David’s shared room. He almost knocked on the door but remembered that he was Nikolai. Would Nikolai knock? He opened the door. Genya was in the vanity and quickly turned her head at the sight of her tailoring job.

“Your highness,” she said slowly. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

“Y/N is screaming.” Genya’s eyes went wide. She didn’t think you would be a problem. You were never a problem. Genya stood. Thankfully she hadn’t wound down for the day and was still wearing her kefta. She cleared her throat and walked past the guard to your cell.

When she got there you were still screaming. It was an awful sound. Genya threw the door open after unlocking the several precautionary locks. You looked up at her and scratched at the ground in an attempt to crawl to her.

“Make it stop!” you yelled. Your chest was on fire. You had tears staining your eyes, blood trickling down your mouth. Genya had no idea what was happening.

“What...what is it?!” she asked hurriedly. She just wanted you to stop yelling.

“I don’t know!” you yelled back at her. You held your chest. She shook, just looking at you. You reminded her of him. But she couldn’t dwell on that. She couldn’t let you die. Or maybe she could. Maybe she should. She stood, frozen. Issak stood, horrified, behind her.

Then all of the sudden it stopped. You took a deep breath in, your head clearing, the pain gone. You sat up straight, looking exhausted.

“What was that?” Genya asked. You shook your head. All the times Genya had seen you she had seen you completely in control. The only time she had seen you with any emotion was the day the Darkling died. You had been so broken and lost that they were able to drag you into this cell without a fight. And now this. You looked like you had just been stabbed repeatedly for an hour.

“I don’t know,” you said and she knew you were telling the truth.

She wanted Zoya.

====

Zoya stepped into the castle and she felt the size of it. She was glad to be home and she had a new companion, the dragon in her mind, but she also had a returning monster. The Darkling was alive. He was alive. Inside Yuri, but completely alive. Zoya wanted him dead again.

Genya had just gotten over the news and her face fell, lit up and fell again. She closed her eyes tightly. She grappled with the Darkling being back but she couldn’t exactly do that. So instead she thought about what she did know.

“Y/N screamed. Really loudly,” Genya said. “She must have felt it.”

“We can’t tell her,” Zoya said, sensing what Nikolai was thinking. If you find out about him then maybe you’ll work with them to see him. “If she doesn’t know, she doesn’t get to know.”

“But maybe-”

“No, maybe's,” Zoya said. “They don’t see each other.”

=====

You stood in your cell. After the aching pain from the other day you had felt rejuvenated. Like you were alive again. You put your hand against the door and took a deep breath. You felt like yourself.

You let your power flow through you. You could do that much but it never left your body. Not until today. You saw the room erupt in darkness and break the door down. You gasped, surprising yourself. You were a summoner. But you could only summon fire, air and water. That was what this cage had been made to hold. Just those powers.

The guards fell over and the darkness took hold of them.

This could only mean one thing.

Aleksander.

You walked down the hallway swiftly, wincing at the sunlight. It had been more than a couple days. You just walked down the hall of cells for a couple of minutes and then you stopped.

You put your hand against the door and looked through the cell.

It wasn’t the face of the man you loved. You didn’t recognize the face. But at any noise the face looked up at you and you saw the eyes. Your lips parted in amazement.

“Aleksander?” you said quietly. He stood up quickly and rushed to the door. You held the bars and he put his hand up, touching your skin. It was someone else's face but it was him. You would know that touch blind folded.

“I thought they had killed you,” he whispered. You shook your head and looked around. There weren’t any keys around. They weren’t that stupid.

“Step back.”

He did as he was told. Powers didn’t work in the inside. But they worked on the outside. You felt the new feeling of shadow rush through you and the door opened. Aleksander stood up, amazed.

“That’s a new one,” he whispered. You rushed toward him, your lips crashing on his. You wanted to cry and scream and jump for joy but you held back. You just kissed him.

He had to admit, the feeling of your lips was something he had been craving. Along with all the other things about being in this world. You pulled away.

“Whose body are you wearing?” you asked. He laughed.

“That’s what you’re worried about?”

“I’m just curious if you’re clean.” He brushed his hand across your cheek, relishing in the look of you.

“I missed you.” He did. He truly did.

“I missed you too. And I think you coming back gave me an extra welcoming gift,” you said. He nodded.

“We have to leave the castle.”

“Yes we do. I am dying to touch grass again.” Aleksander grabbed your hand and thought for a moment. You had both lived in this castle before. You knew the ways in and out. Avoiding everyone would be tricky but he had a new face. You might be a tad more recognizable.

Aleksander stepped outside the cell and you followed him. You rushed together and he made a few turns further into the castle instead of outside of it. But you didn’t say anything. You just followed. He opened one of the doors and was happy to see it empty. He opened a drawer and tossed the clothes out before taking the bottom out. He pulled out a large black cloak.

“Inconspicuous,” you muttered.

“It’ll hide your face,” he said, giving it to you. You put it on without another complaint. He put his hand on the hood but before covering your face he stared at you for a moment. You stared back. A hint of a smile graced his face. “Beautiful.”

Aleksander put the hood over you for your safety, hiding the smile on your lips. You turned and he rushed back out again.

You were leaving this castle together. Today.

Grishaverse Tag List: @elisaa-shelby, @chameleon-junkie

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

if I can never give you peace — two || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader // Word count (chapter): 5.8k // Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers // Ao3

↳ It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Warnings and tags (chapter): Descriptions of violence, Threats, kind of dark in general

First · Previous · Next

The car is late, you think as you smooth over the fabric of your skirt, your mouth twisted in a disapproving scowl. Annoyance is one of the few emotions that ever appear on your face, and you don’t even bother to hide it. You have only been standing there, waiting, for a few minutes, but it already disrupts your perfectly well-oiled routine. This is just one of the many changes that have come with Jungkook taking over, but it could be the one you are the least fond of.

You used to have the routine down to a T. You knew exactly when to leave your apartment so that the car would stop in front of you right as you reached the pavement. There were small hiccups every now and then — traffic, last-minute phone calls —, but most of the time, it went perfectly. You liked that. Having that kind of control, when your life had always been completely out of your hands, was comforting.

That went out the window the day you started working for Jungkook.

When the car stops in front of you, five minutes, that’s three-hundred seconds, after the agreed-upon time, you take a short breath before opening the door and stepping in.

There, of course, is your new boss, sitting with his legs widely spread on the leather seat. He changed your discreet sedan for a limousine, which you find obnoxious, but you didn’t protest. You liked to think that you were better than that at picking your battles

“Mr. Jeon,” you say with a nod, voice even.

Jungkook grins when you call him that. You know he enjoys the title, the power it indicates, particularly since hybrids are supposed to only ever have the same last name as their owners.

“Lot of work to be done today,” he comments, and you know he’s just saying that to rile you up. You used to report to Mr. X, but you worked on your own more often than not. Now, you’re basically Jungkook’s glorified secretary. You wouldn’t particularly mind the change if it didn’t mean that you had to sit and watch him superbly ignore your carefully crafted schedule, as he had every single day for the past week.

“Indeed,” you reply without batting an eyelid. “This morning, you have a meeting with Suga,” this one he should go to, he never misses them, “then you are supposed to eat with Fred Lucas,” chances were he wouldn’t show up to that and make you take him to a fancy restaurant instead, and you would be the one to have to handle the situation with him, “and later today I think it would be important for you to pay a visit to the Mystery Room.” That place was one of the few legal aspects of the business at the moment, if you ignore the drugs that get sold there, and it was not a location you should lose right now. “They have been quite… difficult, since the change in direction.”

That last one is new, and you’re not sure how Jungkook will react to it. Of course, there is plenty more work to do, but you’re trying out new methods to get him to do at least what really matters. You don’t understand why he would hire you if he doesn’t let you do your job, but hey, at least you’re alive. And so is your family.

You don’t know how long that will last, though. Unless Jungkook seriously gets his act together, it won’t take long for someone to think that they can do the same thing he did, and have him murdered. You’re even mildly surprised it hasn’t happened yet. That’s the thing, when a leader gets killed. It weakens the whole structure, and it gives people ideas.

The grin disappears from Jungkook’s face and he nods gravely at that last piece of information. That catches your eye, because it’s new. You tell yourself that maybe, just maybe, he spent the last week riding the high of his victory against Mr. X, and that he will be efficient if there’s trouble, at least.

“Cancel that second thing,” he says. “I want to eat at that restaurant I went to last week. You should get me a reservation there.”

Or not.

“But you can go meet him,” he adds, and you blink.

“Mr. Lucas is expecting to see you,” you say, in case you weren’t clear.

“And he doesn’t get to demand my presence like that,” Jungkook snaps. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from wincing. His voice sounds harsh, cutting. Dangerous. “Did he think that I’d go ask for treats because a human joined us? That’s not how that shit works.”

Okay. He’s not wrong here, but you don’t know about this— approachto the situation. Fred is, indeed, one of the two human leaders who decided to immediately join Jungkook when the news of the death of Mr. X and the uprising of hybrids in various parts of your branches in the city spread. You wouldn’t be surprised if he expected a treatment of favor for that, too, but you’re not sure letting him know how little his gesture was appreciated was the way to go.

“I don’t think—”

“He’s replaceable,” Jungkook says with a dismissive movement of the wrist. “I’ll swap him for one of my men the second he makes a mistake. It would be a lot better if no one forgot that.”

The look he gives you makes his message crystal clear. You feel your mouth getting dry, but you know nothing is showing in your expression, and that at least is a relief.

“I’ll go to the meeting and get you your reservation, then,” you say, pulling out your phone. “Does the rest of the schedule work for you?”

Jungkook frowns, and the tiniest feeling of satisfaction spreads in your chest. You know he’s just applying pressure and waiting for you to crack, but you won’t.You’re used to contorting yourself to please everyone. You’ve made it work for years, and it will take much more than those childish games for you to snap.

Or, at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the past week.

“Fine.” Then he closes his eyes and leans back in the seat. You raise an eyebrow at the sight. You know it’s not because he trusts you, but because he doesn’t think you have the guts to do anything to him — and because, even if you did, he’s pretty confident he wouldn’t have any trouble stopping you. You hate that you find something endearing in that vision. Jungkook was genetically designed to be handsome, and he is.More than that, though, when you look at him right now, even though his long bunny ears are skillfully hidden under a headband, he looks cute.

And he could — and would — take less than a second to snap your neck.

“This afternoon should be fun at least,” he mumbles under his breath, and you hide your grimace.

Shit. That can’t be good.

It’s been clear to you from the very first day that Suga knows exactly what he is doing. It’s also been clear that this isn’t his scene. Being at the forefront of operations, taking the lead — it’s obvious that he would much rather stay in the shadows. You’re not sure how important he was to Jungkook’s organization before, since no one has bothered trying to inform you of that, but you suspect that he’s usually more the type to be in the field.

Right now, though, he’s standing in front of a small group, exposing what the recent developments have been. Sitting behind Jungkook, you listen to him attentively. Those reunions should become less frequent, but right now things could still change completely, and you cannot afford to be taken by surprise.

You are, however, starting to feel less and less comfortable with the fact that nothing seems to be coming out of them. Sure, Yoongi informs you of the people who have sided with Jungkook and of those who are openly opposed to him — a minority, so far — but there is a large group in between that seems to be in no hurry to take position. And you don’t like it.

It hasn’t been long since Jungkook has taken over, but you should at least have gotten someintel by now. You’re not sure what isn’t working here. For now, you don’t want to risk provoking anyone by offering your services. Worry is starting to gnaw at you, though. You could all be driving into a dead-end street at full speed, and that stupid struggle you’re having with Jungkook just isn't worth dying over.

“So not much has changed,” Jungkook comments, tapping his fingers onto the table. He looks nonchalant, but you notice a muscle in his jaw twitching. You wonder if he understands more than he lets on.

“Things have been stagnant,” Yoongi admits without batting an eye. “There hasn’t been any open rebellion, but communication is lacking.”

“That needs to get better.”

“We’re working on it.”

They probably are, but it doesn’t look like that’s going well. Word has reached your ears that some of the branches have been keeping hybrids at bay as discreetly as possible.

“What about that Mystery Room thing?” Jungkook asks, frowning. “What’s going on over there?”

“The what?” Yoongi frowns.

Jungkook looks puzzled — pissed, actually — for a second, then glances at you over his shoulder, and the attention of the whole room suddenly shifts to you. You straighten your back, swallow.

“The owner of the bar has missed a payment to us,” you state calmly, “and it seems that he has no intention of making it and is trying to get out of his contract with us. It would be better if we didn’t lose it right now.”

“What do you mean, ‘it seems’?” Yoongi asks, narrowing his golden eyes at you. His voice sounds more like a hiss, and this time, you struggle to hide your reaction. You haven’t forgotten what it felt like, when you thought he was going to kill you. It’s affected you more than you’d like to admit.

“I have a contact who—”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, and you close your mouth.

“I’m going there today,” Jungkook informs him, and Yoongi nods.

“I’ll be around.”

The two men have a silent exchange of looks. Their relationship is somewhat atypical, not something Mr. X had with anyone. It looks like they genuinely rely on and trust each other. You suppose someone else would find it touching, but you don’t have it in yourself. Especially not when that means they both have it out for you.

“Haven’t you been following what we’ve been talking about here for the past week?” Jungkook snarks at you, and you blink. “Any information you get from now on needs to get to Suga so he can factor it in.” At that, you give him a disbelieving look. That just won’t work. It can’t. Not for the first time, you wonder how much he underestimates you, exactly. If he knew anything about the way you work, about how many contacts you have and how much information you’re usually juggling with, he would never ask that of you.

Yet you nod. You don’t know yet if you’ll send a believable amount of intel to Suga, or just absolutely drown him under it until they tell you to stop, but once more, this just isn’t worth fighting over.

Especially when fighting over something can so easily mean dying over it, in your current situation.

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

He looks displeased, and you know it’s because all he’s waiting for is for you to slip.

“I shouldn’t even bring you to these meetings. You’re not even taking any notes. That’s fucking useless.”

It takes everything in you to bite back a scoff at that. You could tell him you don’t need to take notes when Yoongi is talking about minimal changes in a landscape you know on the tip of your fingers, that maybe you would if he said anything of value, and that this wouldn’t be an issue if people actually feared him.

You marvel at how annoyed that quip makes you. You suppose you don’t like it when your competence is questioned. You don’t like the threat either, though. You don’t want to risk falling out of the loop.

“I’ve gotten you a reservation at that restaurant,” you say. “If things are done here, I’ll be on my way to meet Mr. Lucas.”

Changing the subject. Deflecting. Trying your best to live to see another day. It seems like it’s all you’ve been doing for the past week. You know you can keep it up for a long time, you’re patient enough. You also know that this game is set up to make you lose.

Right now, as Jungkook looks at you, clearly not amused by your attitude, there is a terrifying moment during which you fear that he might just drop the charade. The only point of this whole thing is to get rid of you. He could decide he only wants to do that any second.

“Yeah, right. Be on your way.”

He dismisses you like you’re some low lackey, but that, at least, isn’t anything new, and you know how to handle it. You bow politely, then exit the room.

“You really wanna keep her around?” Yoongi asks once you’re gone, and Jungkook groans.

He doesn’t know why he had expected you to break easily. He’d seen you work for Mr. X, do that same shit he makes you do and survive as long as you had, so he should have known you’d be good at it. He supposes he’d been used to you making decisions for him, back then, and had thought that was a normal thing for you, that you wouldn’t enjoy being in the position of taking orders. But you were, after all, just someone who worked for others that whole time.

Not that he gives a fuck about it. He couldn’t care less why you did the things you did. All he wants is to give you a taste of your own medicine. Dangling a false chance of survival in front of your eyes and let you handle the rest yourself. So as long as you push through… well. He’ll let it slide.

It’s not like you can keep doing it forever anyway.

Fred Lucas worries you. He’s always smiled too widely, been too loud, made too many jokes. You know Mr. X considered him to be some sort of buffoon, but also kept his distance from him. Mr. X didn’t like people who pretended to wear their hearts on their sleeves.

“Always a pleasure to see you, (Y/N),” he greets you warmly when you walk up to him and you give him a nod. If he’s upset that Jungkook isn’t there, he doesn’t show it, just like you don’t show your distaste for his use of your first name. “I’d like to discuss with just you, though,” he adds, eyeing Hector, who’s standing beside you. The fact that you still have him by your side is the only good thing that has come from working for Jungkook so far.

You don’t like that. You’re all too aware of the fact that this is his land, and that the only reason why he’s saying that is that Hector is a hybrid. If that gets back to Jungkook, it wouldn’t be good for Fred — but you don’t think he’ll go down without a fight. You glance at Hector, who looks as placid as always and offers no help. The gears in your head are turning fast. Before, you were protected by how indispensable you were considered by Mr. X. That is clearly not the case anymore, but Fred likely isn’t aware of that. Yet.

On the other hand, sending Hector away would show weakness, and you can’t afford that.

“Hector goes where I go,” you say.

Fred’s smile widens even more.

“Of course, of course, can’t trust anyone those days, can you?”

You wonder if it’s a jab at you and how quickly you changed sides, but he is more or less in the same position, so you could just be paranoid.

“Come on, come on in, let’s get ourselves a drink.”

You don’t want a drink, but you do follow him in. The sooner you do that, the sooner you will be out of here.

Fred has a lot of things to say. Most of it isn’t relevant to anything that is happening right now, but you’ve never been able to tune things out. You always worry you’ll miss an essential piece of information. So you listen as he babbles about his business — getting weapons in and out of the city, something he is decently good at — but also about his family, his friendships, and his favorite kind of alcohol. You let him pour you a glass, even if you have no intention of touching it.

“I hear you,” you manage to interrupt him, “but I am curious to know why you wanted a meeting with Mr. Jeon. It seems to me that you have the situation here under control.”

Flattery has always worked on Fred, and you have no issue in using that against him.

“Of course we do,” he gloats. “It’s just— There are a lot of rumorsfloating around those days, you know?”

You do know. You suspect Fred has heard the same things as you. You also suspect most people have been very careful not to let those things reach Yoongi’s ears.

“People are talking about a ‘human opposition’ forming,” Fred gasps dramatically. “Can you believe it? Some people are really not happy about being led by a hybrid.”

That seems to be more concrete than what you’ve heard, which means that Fred could be exaggerating things… or that he was contacted to join that opposition. And you don’t like that second possibility, not at all. You trust Fred about as far as you can throw him, and that means you certainly don’t trust him to not try and play both sides.

“That was to be expected,” you reply calmly. “I do not doubt that Mr. Jeon knew such a reaction was coming.”

Fred narrows his eyes at you, trying to gauge what you knew then and what you know now. Which isn’t much, but that’s not something you plan to let slip out.

“Do you know of anything specific?”

You see from the glint in Fred’s eyes that he knows the game is on. If you know something and he doesn’t tell you, he will look suspicious, but he could also reveal too much, and you doubt he wants to play his cards so soon.

“I— don’t, unfortunately,” he finally says, and you nod. Either he hasn’t heard of the Mystery Room, or he is voluntarily hiding it from you. Regardless, that limits how useful he is to you. “But the word on the street is that Jungkook may not know what he’s doing all that well.”

You send him a sharp glance. He’s taking a risk in telling you that, you both know it. That doesn’t make the information any less precious.

“I see. And, again, I don’t suppose you know where this— ‘word on the street’ is coming from?”

He shrugs, a true picture of innocence, and maybe you’d have believed it if Fred hadn’t been in the business for longer than you. He knew, he just wasn’t telling because he wanted to preserve his opportunities if something happened.

“I have to go, then. Thank you for the drink, Mr. Lucas.”

“Please,” he says, holding out his hand. “Call me Fred.”

That won’t be happening.

“Goodbye, Mr. Lucas.”

Once you’re out, you take a second to collect yourself, Hector following like a shadow and waiting for you silently.

“Is everything okay?” he asks after you’ve mulled over the conversation that just happened for several minutes.

“It’s fine,” you say as a reflex. You couldn’t stop thinking about how Fred had taken a gamble when he’d proclaimed his allegiance to Jungkook. He’d bet on him coming out on top, and yet you didn’t trust it. You couldn’t think of a reason why he would do that instead of carefully waiting to see how things would go, like everyone else. You didn’t like this. Not one bit. “We need to get to Mystery Room,” you add.

“Of course,” Hector nods, gesturing towards the limo, and you don’t bother repressing a groan this time.

“God. That’s so tacky.”

That brings a smile to Hector’s lips, but you don’t smile back. You never do. Instead, you climb in, roll your eyes at the whole thing, and let yourself be driven away. You can’t come to a conclusion about Fred Lucas just yet, but you have no intention of forgetting about him either.

It takes you a few seconds, once you’re out of the car, to understand that something isn’t right. You’ve never been good with feelings — instincts, as hybrids call them — and the air doesn’t feel particularly tense or charged to you. Hector stands a little close to you for comfort, and you piece things together from there. There are a few cars around, but not too many, which isn’t surprising considering it’s the middle of the afternoon. Still, you can hear voices from inside, and you know there’s an argument going on there.

“Let’s go,” you say with a decided nod, and Hector leads the way, shoulders tense, ready to pounce if needed. You trust him to do his job, and that’s a lot, coming from you.

You frown when you walk into the bar, taking a few seconds to let your eyes get adjusted to the lack of luminosity, and that frown only deepens when you hear the argument going on and recognize Jungkook’s voice. God. The concepts of subtlety and discretion are completely lost on him, aren’t they?

Making your way through the room, you try to evaluate the situation. Yoongi is leaning against a table, looking bored out of his mind, though you’re sure he doesn’t miss anything from what is going on in the room. As if to prove your point, his golden eyes flick towards you for a second when you approach, before looking away, clearly uninterested. Other than him, it seems that the only other people present are the owner and various employees. You think it’s stupid and dangerous that they showed up here basically alone but, for the millionth time today, you grit your teeth and don’t say anything.

There are five men around, including the bouncer and a security guard. They’re probably armed, and that’s to say nothing of anyone you cannot see. Outside of Yoongi, though, no one pays attention to you, not until the bartender asks loudly “Mojito, as usual, Miss (L/N)?”

It’s a bit early for that, actually, but you give him a nod. The Mystery Room isn’t quite your scene — you’ve always been one to prefer classy restaurants — but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re well-known here, and everywhere, actually, which is something that everyoneknows, except your own boss. That is obvious by the way people’s attitude shifts when they see you. The owner bows to you politely. You acknowledge it with a curt movement of your chin. Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. He doesn’t look happy about it.

You wait until you have your glass in your hand to say something. The silence that fills the room is heavy, and you can feel Jungkook’s anger emanating from him, having lost the men’s attention. He’s the man who murdered Mr. X, took over half of his operations without anyone noticing, and their fucking boss, and they’re still treating him like a low-life hybrid.

“You haven’t been paying what you owe us,” you say, almost lightly, when you get your drink. “Has business been slow?”

You know it has. You know people aren’t too sure what to think of Jungkook yet. You also know they’ve still made money. Better yet, you’re sure the men in the room know youknow that. You’re giving them an obvious way out. All they have to do is say “yes”, and you’ll come up with something. You won’t let them go off scot-free, but there’s no need for this to end in a bloodbath, either.

“That’s not the issue,” the man says, voice raspy, and you don’t let it show, of course you don’t, but you’re still taking the hit. They’re underestimating Jungkook.

This might be the last mistake they make.

“I think it would be better for everyone if we could work through whatever issue there is,” you say slowly.

Better for them, really, especially because this is you giving him a second chance. There won’t be a third one.

“I’m afraid we don’t, uh, approve of the recent change in direction,” he replies, a stupid grin on his face. He’s mocking you and your infamous overly procedural speech. You know people say you can’t accept who you’re working for, that you can’t take the idea of having blood on your hands.

You may not care, but you’re well-aware of it, and you really don’t appreciate him saying that to your face. You’ll have to make an example out of him.

You sigh and shake your head at his answer. You’re not going to enjoy this. You’ve seen people’s attempts at rebellion against Mr. X, even if those were few and far between, and no matter how much of a fight they put up, it never ends well. For them.

You’re prepared to just leave the place and arrange for it to be set on fire during the night, when Jungkook’s voice snaps you out of it.

“What’s your problem with the change in direction, fucker?”

The mood changes immediately. Hector’s hand on your shoulder gently pulls you back, and Yoongi hops off the table to come stand next to Jungkook, hands in his pockets. He looks nonchalant and relaxed. He could probably easily kill everyone in this room and not get a drop of blood on his jacket.

The owner squares his shoulders and walks up to him. He’s slightly taller and much larger than Jungkook.

“Listen, bunny…”

You barely have the time to widen your eyes at the word, to think about all the ways Jungkook has made it clear that he’s not your typical rabbit-hybrid before his right hook connects with the man’s jaw, so fast you would have missed it if you’d blinked.

A moment of stunned silence follows, during which the man stumbles backwards, hand coming to cup his face in disbelief. And then, he seems to decide that it’s a good idea to retaliate. The dozens, hundreds maybe, of fights you’ve seen Jungkook win flash before your eyes. He doesn’t stand a chance.

People start moving around you, but it seems like it’s only a fistfight. No guns are drawn, for now, and you’re reminded of how much you fucking hate watching people fight. You take a step back, bored already at this stupid display of strength and violence. Still, you can’t help it when your eyes are drawn to Jungkook. There’s a— curiosity within you. How much has he truly changed, in the past two years?

For one, he certainly isn’t pretending this time, isn’t trying to make this fight last for a few more rounds. There iscertain showmanship there, though, you note. He’s giving time for the owner to recover while he takes out some of the other men with hits of surgical precision. He wants them to seewhatever he’s going to do to their boss. Hector and Yoongi keep the fight contained, don’t let anyone escape or call for help, but Jungkook doesn’t need their help. No one here is a threat to him, and it doesn’t take long for the men to be on the floor, groaning in pain.

The owner pushes himself up, spits some blood on the floor. Jungkook turns to face him and beckons him closer with a flick of his hand. He looks amused.

“You fucking piece of—”

This time, Jungkook doesn’t go for the head. His fist gets the man in the ribs, and that first punch is followed by dozens of others, not giving the man any respite, not letting him breathe. When the man falls back, Jungkook doesn’t stop, though the hits slow down, based on what you can see and hear. You have to clench your jaw to stop yourself from grimacing at the sound of flesh hitting flesh, of the bones underneath clashing. It was drowned out, back when he fought in a ring, but knowing it was there disgusted you back. You don’t know why, you just hate it. It makes you sick.

When Jungkook finally gets back up, he hasn’t even broken a sweat. There are five men on the ground, clenching different parts of their bodies and crying out in pain, and he isn’t even out of breath.

“You should fucking reconsider,” he spits out.

They won’t have to. This place will be gone soon enough.

His eyes meet yours as he walks out, and his expression turns to a disgusted scowl. It almost draws a scoff out of you, but you hold it in, and instead, you follow him dutifully.

Jungkook doesn’t speak to you in the car, eyes instead on his bloody knuckles. It will heal fast, you know, and that’s probably why he doesn’t bother taking care of it. When the car stops, you look outside and find yourself faced with your own apartment building. It’s not even five in the afternoon yet. You turn around to give your boss a quizzical look.

“You’re not needed anymore,” he shrugs. He doesn’t sound like he’s playing this time, though you’re still sure that he wants to get on your nerves.

You hate that it’s working this time.

“The day isn’t—”

“I think you’ve proved exactly how efficient you are today,” he says, obviously dismissing you. “I have no fucking idea how you got this job.”

You bite your tongue not to reply. You don’t care about the job, you don’t care about his opinion of you, you barely even care about the Family. You should just nod, give him the usual “yes, Mr. Jeon,” and walk out. But something keeps you in place a little longer than it should, and that’s how much you hate jobs that aren’t well done.

Your voice sounds distant to your own ears when you say what you’re supposed to, your body doesn’t feel like your own when you walk out and close the door. Your breathing quickens while you hear the car leave behind you like it’s all happening in a dream, your head spins, and you stand frozen in place, staring right in front of you.

Is this your life now? you wonder, feeling your heart thumping like it’s trying to get out of your chest. Are you going to let yourself be so disposable, so mediocre, let everything you’ve spent years building fall apart? This isn’t the time for pride, you’re well aware of that, but it’s still eating at you inside.

You walk back to your apartment like you’re in a trance. There’s a heavy weight on your chest, and you realize you have to make a choice. If things stay like that, you suppose Jungkook will have your head at some point. This is a fight of patience. One you cannot win. But if you make yourself indispensable, then maybe, maybe you can survive it. You’ve done it once already.

You brush aside the little voice mocking your reasoning, telling you that you’re doing this because you don’t want to lose your status. Not because it’s wrong, but because you know that’s not enough of an incentive for you to take a risk. You need something stronger than that. Even if you know it’s a lie.

That doesn’t stop your hand from trembling as you dial Yoongi’s number. You’re happy there’s no one to see you, because God, you couldn’t take your carefully crafted facade crumbling right now.

“Yes?” he answers quickly. If he’s surprised to hear from you, it doesn’t show.

“What are the plans for the Mystery Room?” you ask, satisfied that your voice doesn’t quiver, even if you’re a mess right now.

There’s a silence at the other end of the line, and you suspect he’s considering not answering you, so you take the initiative.

“You need to at least replace the owner,” you say, kicking off your shoes. “You can convince him to sell to us,” — convince, one of your favorite euphemisms — “or get rid of him and get the place from his family. Burning the place down is also an option. We can’t let what happened slide like that.”

“Hmm,” Yoongi says.

“Also, it would better if Mr. Jeon could avoid fighting with people. The last thing we want is people who think they can challenge him.”

“He can take them.”

“That’s not the issue. If people think they have a chance, they’ll keep trying. We don’t want them to do that.”

Another, longer silence.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he’ll listen to you.”

“And you think I will listen to you?”

You roll your eyes. It’s strange, you know you’re gambling your life right now, but the tension you were experiencing earlier has been replaced by an eerie calm. You feel detached from everything.

Maybe you’ve been doing this for too long.

“You don’t have to,” you say, “but this is my job. I’m good at it. If you just let me do it, it would be far more efficient than whatever has been going on for the last week. I know you don’t trust me, but you can probably come to the same conclusions as me in this situation at least.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest. This is an explicit critique, something you would never have risked with Mr. X, and it’s the most open act of defiance that you’ve ever done — and it’s to convince them to let you workfor them.

“We’ll see about that,” he replies dismissively, and your shoulders fall at first, but then he adds, almost reluctantly, “I’ll take what you said into consideration.”

“Good. We also need to talk about tomorrow’s meeting. I’ve gotten some important information about the opposition to Mr. Jeon, and I think—”

As you explain the situation to Yoongi, you feel yourself calming down. Maybe it’s because you’re doing something that’s familiar to you, you’re not sure, but you can breathe again, and that solidifies your conviction that you’re making the right decision.

Finally, you’re ready to take back your life.

Tag list: @chaiwivluv @mintyrae @btswdwsmhrdt @xxquenwxtchxx @fekitza @kimmieloveswho @deeepvibes @lonleycoffee @gookiebts @kpop-baka @taecallsmenoona @mimiinluv @dabbingangels @jooahchu

[katnissmellarkkk]

Andddd here’s a part two to the Snarky-Sassy Peeta comb through I did. I definitely missed some but this is what I came up with from Catching Fire and Mockingjay! I’ll admit, Mockingjay Peeta crossed the line between snarky and mean but 🤷🏼‍♀️. I felt it deserved a spot anyways. Also if no one else ever noticed, Snarky-Sassy Peeta was apparently in hibernation in Catching Fire.

I remember the shock of hearing Peeta confess his love for me in front of all of Panem. Haymitch had known about that and not told me. “I think I broke a few things myself after that interview.”

“Just an urn.”

-

“Peeta, if I asked you to run away from the district with me, would you?”

Peeta takes my arm, bringing me to a stop. He doesn’t need to check my face to see if I’m serious. “Depends on why you’re asking.”

“President Snow wasn’t convinced by me. There’s an uprising in District Eight. We have to get out,” I say.

“By ‘we’ do you mean just you and me? No. Who else would be going?” he asks.

“My family. Yours, if they want to come. Haymitch, maybe,” I say.

“What about Gale?” he says.

“I don’t know. He might have other plans,” I say.

Peeta shakes his head and gives me a rueful smile. “I bet he does. Sure, Katniss, I’ll go.”

I feel a slight twinge of hope. “You will?”

“Yeah. But I don’t think for a minute you will.”

-

I go into the study, a room I’ve pretty much avoided since my meeting with President Snow, and dial Peeta’s number. After a few rings he answers.

“Hey. I just wanted to make sure you got home,” I say.

“Katniss, I live three houses away from you.”

-

Peeta comes to the table and opens the candy bag. “Ooh, peppermints,” he says, popping one in his mouth.

“They’re mine.” I take a swipe for the bag. He tosses it to Haymitch, who stuffs a fistful of sweets in his mouth before passing the bag to a giggling Prim. “None of you deserves candy!” I say.

“What, because we’re right?” Peeta wraps his arms around me.

-

“What?” I sputter indignantly. It would be more convincing if I weren’t still so hungover. “Last night’s the only time I’ve ever even been drunk.”

“Yeah, and look at the shape you’re in,” says Peeta.

-

“I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever,” he says.

Usually this sort of comment, the kind that hints of his undying love for me, makes me feel guilty and awful. But I feel so warm and relaxed and beyond worrying about a future I’ll never have, I just let the word slip out. “Okay.”

I can hear the smile in his voice. “Then you’ll allow it?”

“I’ll allow it,” I say.

-

“Peeta?” I say softly. I brush the damp blond strands of hair back from his forehead, find the pulse drumming against my fingers at his neck.

His lashes flutter open and his eyes meet mine. “Careful,” he says weakly. “There’s a force field up ahead.”

I laugh, but there are tears running down my cheeks.

“Must be a lot stronger than the one on the Training Center roof,” he says. “I’m all right, though. Just a little shaken.”

“You were dead! Your heart stopped!” I burst out, before really considering if this is a good idea. I clap my hand over my mouth because I’m starting to make those awful choking sounds that happen when I sob.

“Well, it seems to be working now.”

-

Johanna keeps watch while Finnick, Peeta, and I clean and lay out the seafood. Peeta’s just pried open an oyster when I hear him give a laugh. “Hey, look at this!” He holds up a glistening, perfect pearl about the size of a pea. “You know, if you put enough pressure on coal it turns to pearls,” he says earnestly to Finnick.

“No, it doesn’t,” says Finnick dismissively. But I crack up, remembering that’s how a clueless Effie Trinket presented us to the people of the Capitol last year, before anyone knew us. As coal pressured into pearls by our weighty existence. Beauty that arose out of pain.

-

“We can’t fight one another, Caesar,” Peeta explains. “There won’t be enough of us left to keep going. If everybody doesn’t lay down their weapons — and I mean, as in very soon — it’s all over, anyway.”

“So . . . you’re calling for a cease-fire?” Caesar asks.

“Yes. I’m calling for a cease-fire,” says Peeta tiredly. “Now why don’t we ask the guards to take me back to my quarters so I can build another hundred card houses?”

-

“Hey,” he responds. It’s like his voice, almost his voice, except there’s something new in it. An edge of suspicion and reproach.

“Haymitch said you wanted to talk to me,” I say.

“Look at you, for starters.” It’s like he’s waiting for me to transform into a hybrid drooling wolf right before his eyes. He stares so long I find myself casting furtive glances at the one- way glass, hoping for some direction from Haymitch, but my earpiece stays silent. “You’re not very big, are you? Or particularly pretty?”

I know he’s been through hell and back, and yet somehow the observation rubs me the wrong way. “Well, you’ve looked better.”

Haymitch’s advice to back off gets muffled by Peeta’s laughter. “And not even remotely nice. To say that to me after all I’ve been through.”

-

“And it was okay with both of us? You kissing the other?” he asks.

“No. It wasn’t okay with either of you. But I wasn’t asking your permission,” I tell him.

Peeta laughs again, coldly, dismissively. “Well, you’re a piece of work, aren’t you?”

-

Peeta makes a little gesture with his spoon, connecting Gale and me. “So, are you two officially a couple now, or are they still dragging out the star-crossed lover thing?”

“Still dragging,” says Johanna.

Spasms cause Peeta’s hands to tighten into fists, then splay out in a bizarre fashion. Is it all he can do to keep them from my neck? I can feel the tension in Gale’s muscles next to me, fear an altercation. But Gale simply says, “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself.”

“What’s that?” asks Peeta.

“You,” Gale answers.

“You’ll have to be a little more specific,” says Peeta.

-

The following evening, the newest member of our squad arrives. With no manacles. No guards. Strolling out of the train station with his gun swinging from the strap over his shoulder. There’s shock, confusion, resistance, but 451 is stamped on the back of Peeta’s hand in fresh ink. Boggs relieves him of his weapon and goes to make a call.

“It won’t matter,” Peeta tells the rest of us. “The president assigned me herself. She decided the propos needed some heating up.”

-

Instead, he sits with his bag pulled up to his chest, clumsily trying to make knots in a short length of rope. I know it well. It’s the one Finnick lent me that night in the bunker. Seeing it in his hands, it’s like Finnick’s echoing what Haymitch just said, that I’ve cast off Peeta. Now might be a good time to begin to remedy that. If I could think of something to say. But I can’t. So I don’t. I just let the sounds of soldiers’ breathing fill the night.

After about an hour, Peeta speaks up. “These last couple of years must have been exhausting for you. Trying to decide whether to kill me or not. Back and forth. Back and forth.”

-

While Cressida and Pollux make fur nests for each of us, I attend to Peeta’s wrists. Gently rinsing away the blood, putting on an antiseptic, and bandaging them beneath the cuffs. “You’ve got to keep them clean, otherwise the infection could spread and —”

“I know what blood poisoning is, Katniss,” says Peeta. “Even if my mother isn’t a healer.”

-

“Never underestimate the power of a brilliant stylist,” says Peeta. It’s hard to tell, but I think Tigris might actually blush under her stripes.

-

“Listen,” I say. “Don’t do anything foolish.”

“No. It’s last-resort stuff. Completely,” he says.

-