#nomad violence killing death moments

[venus-haze]

Open All Night (Severen x Reader)

Summary: The Hooker clan breaks decorum and sets up camp for a few weeks in a small Southern city after shaking Caleb’s father off their trail. It doesn’t take them long to find out another one of their kind has already made the turf home. You just hope they won't cause any trouble. [This is an AU.]

Note: Female reader, but no descriptors are used. Based on this request by @rock-n-macabre! This was so much fun to write🖤 Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: Yandere elements such as stalking, threats, and manipulation. Canon-typical violence and murder. Sexually explicit content that involves bloodplay, choking, mentions of breeding kink. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Death announced its arrival with a holler. The door swung open, and as each one ambled inside the bar with varying degrees of bravado, you knew what they were. Could smell it on them. The crimson glow from the neon lights that washed over each patron was especially appropriate. It’d been years since you met anyone who was like you, and now six were sliding into a large corner booth.

Most of the ragtag bunch didn’t pay you any mind, too absorbed in taking stock of the bar patrons, mostly regulars who you’d known for years. As you mixed drinks and poured beers, you kept an eye on them as best as you could. Then, the older man made eye contact with you. Clearly the de facto leader of the group. For a few moments, you held his gaze. The woman at his side turned to glare at you before a grin spread across her face. Not one to be intimidated, you grabbed the notepad from your apron and made your way over to the table.

“I’m Y/N, how can I help y’all tonight?” you asked with a deceptive cheerfulness, your eyes scanning the group before lowering your voice. “If you’re here for what I think you’re here for, I’m gonna tell you right now, this ain’t the place.”

The older man held up a weathered, assuring hand. “We ain’t gonna encroach your territory.”

You nodded. “Good, then I’ll make some drinks. On the house.”

“Lookit that hospitality,” the shaggy-haired man with his worn leather jacket crooned mockingly. He licked his lips. “Oughta give you a tip.”

“Charming,” you said sardonically. 

The way he looked at you nearly sent a shiver down your spine, but instead you straightened your back, maintaining your composure. He winked at you, and you smiled despite yourself. 

“I’ll be right back,” you said, turning around to walk back to the bar and make the promised drinks.

“Don’t mind Severen,” the woman said, getting up to walk over to the bar with you. “He’s got hot air where his brain should be. I’m Diamondback.” She named the rest of the clan, and you tried to commit their names to memory.

Clans weren’t uncommon among your kind. They guaranteed safety, though it often meant a nomadic lifestyle as to not draw attention to the sheer number of humans killed. This clan, however, seemed almost hellbent on causing a scene, clearly disappointed you were standing between them and having their fun.

You smirked a bit upon hearing the conversation that had started in the corner booth upon your absence.

“What’re the fuckin’ odds,” Jesse sighed.

“What is it?” Caleb asked in a hushed tone.

“Ya don’t gotta whisper,” Severen said. “She can hear us anyhow.”

“She’s one of us?”

Homer made a raspberry noise. “Duh.”

You snickered, bringing your attention to Diamondback, who was grinning at her clan’s antics. “Nice to meet you. I guess.”

Pulling a flask from your apron pocket, you glanced in either direction as you opened it, pouring the contents into each of the drinks you’d made. The blood was best concealed in dark liquor. It was relatively fresh, having drained it from an asshole trucker who had spent half the previous night harassing you. 

Some nights, during long shifts where you couldn’t carve out time to hunt someone down yourself, the gruesome mixture was all that could keep you going. Your instincts scared you sometimes, as people you considered friends so quickly warped into potential meals. Hands shaking, saliva practically dripping from your lips when you handed them their drinks.

“Just you out here?” Diamondback asked, grabbing two glasses while you put the rest on a tray.

“I’m solitary, if that’s what you mean.”

“Hell, good for you. Must be tough.”

“You get used to it.”

Bringing the tray of drinks over, you set each glass in front of the group. Homer smiled when he saw you were giving him the same thing as everyone else. You just hoped Jimmy, the bartender and owner, wouldn’t notice you serving alcohol to someone who looked like an eleven year old boy. You supposed if you were decades old but were stuck in the body of a kid, you wouldn’t appreciate being treated like one by someone who knew better.

Everyone in the clan looked pretty young, save for Jesse. You figured Mae and Caleb had been hardly out of high school when they were turned, Severen and Diamondback in their twenties or thirties, about the same age you had been when you were turned.  

You were impressed as Severen threw back what was in the glass, while everyone else sipped somewhat cautiously. 

“Blood’s not fresh, but it ain’t bad,” Jesse said, the closest you’d get to a compliment from him.

“You’re not gonna run off now, are ya?” Severen asked, not even trying to hide the way he was drinking you in, the murky blood concoction you’d just served dripping from the corner of his lips.

Out of defiance and curiosity, you did the opposite.

“Hey Jimmy!” you shouted. “I’m taking my thirty!”

He gave you a thumbs up from the bar, and you sat down next to Severen. You pulled a pack of cigarettes from your apron pocket, taking one for yourself and leaving the rest on the table, another peace offering of sorts. No fucking trouble in your territory.

“Don’t come across others like us very often,” Jesse said.

“Me either. Y’all are the first ones to come along since I’ve been working here.”

“How long’s that been?” Mae asked.

“‘Bout eight years.”

“We won’t be stayin’ that long,” Jesse said with a chuckle. “Few weeks at most.”

You nodded your silent approval. It’d be nice having others like you around for a while. Besides, they could only do so much damage in a few weeks. The city was far too big for that, though their disregard for human life of any kind gave you some pause, especially since they didn’t feel the need to conceal it from you.

In the following two weeks, they’d come and go during your shifts, some in pairs, some alone, sometimes the whole group. Severen almost always came in when you were working, sitting at the bar and blatantly flirting with you. He nearly started half a dozen fights with men who dared do the same. You found it flattering. Jimmy thought it was bad for business and threatened to ban Severen unless you got him under control. The notion almost made you laugh. You weren’t sure anyone could control him.

As a compromise, you promised to spend one of your nights off with Severen. He jumped at the offer, the two of you meeting outside of the bar just after sunset one warm evening.

“Ridin’ solo tonight, cowboy?” you asked when you walked over to him.

“Somethin’ like that,” he said. “You ever hunt with someone else before?”

“Nope.”

He grinned. “Shit, I get to pop your cherry.”

“Somethin’ like that,” you echoed, smiling when he put his arm around you.

The two of you wandered downtown for a while, ducking in and out of various shops as they were about to close. Being around Severen was the first time in a long time that you didn’t feel like you had to be guarded. Even with your human friends, you always had to hold part of yourself back. 

“You like workin’ at bars?” he asked.

“Yeah, get to meet a lot of interesting people,” you said, nudging him with your elbow. “It’s pretty much the only job where I can work the night shift and not worry about sunlight. Plus, everyone’s too drunk to say anything about me looking the same for years.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “How old are you anyway?”

“Don’t you know you should never ask a lady her age?” you said. “If you must know, I’m 74.”

“I reckon I’m about a hundred by now.”

“You’re lying!”

“Scout’s honor.”

“Well, hurry up old man,” you teased. “I’m getting hungry.”

The two of you kept walking until you reached a more isolated part of the city, one where the streetlights flickered endlessly or didn’t work at all. If you didn’t feed at the bar, that area was your usual hunting grounds. The Hooker clan seemed to have the same idea as you, since murders spiked in the area and were all over the news. It was more desolate than ever as a result. 

You and Severen stood in the shadows, observing passersby for your first target of the night. Following Severen’s gaze, you spotted a man leaning against a building, smoking beneath a dim light. You frowned. You knew him. Hank. A regular patron at the bar.

“Severen, not him.”

He scoffed. “Don’t tell me you have a soft spot for these people.”

“He has a wife and kids at home,” you pleaded softly.

Severen looked from the man to you, his hands balled into fists as he huffed. “There anyone around here you don’t know?”

“That’s why I work in bars. Got my pick of strangers.”

“And it don’t bother you none that they might have a wife and kids at home?”

You were silent for a moment as you weakly defended yourself. “It’s different.”

“No, it ain’t,” he said, grabbing your arm. “You gotta toughen up, baby.” The term of endearment left a sour taste in your mouth when he used it, mocking your hesitation, your sentimentality. 

He practically dragged you over to Hank, this man you’d known for years, who’d proudly shown you his kids’ school photos every fall. Hank’s eyes lit up in recognition upon seeing you, but just as quickly that light went out when Severen released you from his grip and dug his fingers into Hank’s scalp. You watched, mortified as Hank’s neck snapped at the force Severen used to pull his head back. 

Severen didn’t hesitate to sink his teeth into Hank’s skin, lapping up the blood that flowed freely from the wound he inflicted. The primal hunger that you tried so hard to control clouded your senses, as did an unprecedented lust for the savage man before you, who had no qualms about killing, enjoyed it even. He was free, undoubtedly dangerous, and you couldn’t keep yourself from feeding on Hank’s dying body with him. 

You indulged, feeling the familiar satisfaction of consuming blood rush through your body like a bolt of lightning. Sometimes, when you were especially famished, feeding felt better than sex. Between the blood and Severen pawing at you, humping your blood-soaked body like a stray dog, you felt dizzy.

“I need you,” he practically growled. “Fuck, baby.”

“I know, but we can’t stick around here.” You panted, your hands fruitlessly trying to keep his passion at bay. “My place ain't far.”

His frustration tore through his throat, the blood dripping from his chin the epitome of the apex predator in the moonlight. Nevertheless, he relented, the two of you rushing to your car, which you’d parked just a block over from the bar, as if something in you sensed something like this would happen. The area was dark and mostly desolate, and you took off before he’d even fully shut the passenger door.

You didn’t live far, though the drive felt endless even with your doing twenty over and running through red lights. The headlights seemed to cross as you swerved about the road, trying to drive steady with Severen practically climbing over to your seat, hands roughly groping your breasts while he dug his teeth into your skin.

He shoved his hand between your legs, rubbing the heel of his palm against your cunt, the fabric from your jeans creating a rough friction that you keened into, and your arms jerked as you nearly steered off the side of the road.

“Fuckin’ pull over,” he ordered, his voice low.

“Almost there.”

“Yeah?” 

He applied more pressure, and you moaned, seeing your street in the distance. “Yeah, right there.”

By the time you pulled haphazardly into the driveway, you felt like your heart was going to explode if it even beat at all. The small house you rented was relatively secluded for the area, something you were especially thankful for as you were sure you and Severen would draw attention from any passersby.

Not bothering with the lights, you pulled him by his belt loops into your bedroom, his lips attached to yours until you began peeling off your blood-soaked clothes. The copper scent that filled the room nearly had you drooling, and as soon as he kicked off his boots, you pounced on him.

He reached between you, fingers rubbing circles in your clit, your pussy already sensitive from his teasing in the car.

“Severen, c’mon,” you whined. “Don’t—ah—“

You could feel the tip of his cock poke at your wet cunt, and you lifted your hips in response. He slid into you, his thrusts deep and hard. Sex with human men was underwhelming, but it was something. Severen was a different beast entirely. You choked on your own moan, wrapping around your throat until you realized it was his hand, you could actually feel it.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “You’re gonna be good and take it all, ain’t you, baby?”

You nodded frantically, unable to speak.

“Knew you would—fuck—“

He pounded into you, your pussy clenching around his cock. Sweat brought the dried blood on your skin almost back to life, the smell triggering something deep in you as your bodies practically stuck together. Though he stared intensely in your eyes, you struggled to keep yours open as you neared your orgasm. He reached his first, though, a deep groan as he threw his head back, hips bucking violently against you as you felt warmth fill you.

Pleasure cracked through your body like a whip, and you arched your back, a moan coming from deep in your belly as you came. You couldn’t remember the last time your muscles ached, a dull pain as you settled next to Severen, who’d collapsed beside you on the bed.

“Does this always happen when you hunt with someone?”

“Once. A long time ago. She was a lil’ too wild for me, even.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, lightly hitting his bare chest.

“You oughta come with us. Forget this place and be with your own kind,” he said. 

“It’s not that simple. I’ve made a life here. I have a job, and friends,” you said, as if you hadn’t eaten one of those friends just a few hours earlier.

“You ain’t lonely?”

“Sometimes,” you said. “You don’t ever feel suffocated with so many people around all the time?”

“No, I do best with an audience.”

“I can tell.”

When morning came, your blackout curtains shielded you and Severen from the unforgiving sun, the two of you curled up in your bed, dried blood caked on your skin. About an hour before your shift, you took a shower, though you couldn’t quite scrub all of the blood from your nails. You hoped no one at the bar would notice.

Severen had made himself busy wandering around your house, opening every drawer and cabinet he came across when you told him you were headed to work. He nodded, not sparing you a glance when he mentioned he and the rest of the clan would stop by later on. Strange.

Your car’s upholstery was fucked, but you hoped with enough bleach and elbow grease, you could get it looking less like a murder scene. It kind of was one. You tried not to think about that too much.

Otherwise, your shift went by without consequence, though you’d heard people talking about how Hank had been found brutally murdered.

“You sure you wanna work tonight?” Jimmy asked. “If you wanna go home early, you can. Cops are sayin’ it was an animal attack, but I’m not so sure.”

“I’ll be fine, Jimmy. Thanks,” you said, forcing a smile that just as quickly fell when you saw Severen walk in with the rest of the Hooker clan. 

He hadn’t even bothered to clean the previous night’s blood off, giving you a wicked grin when he saw you.

“How're you shitkickers feelin’ tonight?” he hollered. “Better be great, ‘cause it’s gonna be your last.”

Jesse grabbed a bottle off the bar, smashing it against a man’s face and then pouncing when he collapsed on the floor in pain.

“What the—“ Jimmy muttered, reaching for the rifle he kept beneath the bar.

You watched in horror as Severen jumped on top of the bar, and with a fluid kick, sliced Jimmy’s throat open with the razor sharp spurs on the heel of his boot. Your boss collapsed in your arms, his garbled choking noises drowned out by the sound of gushing blood, and possessed by your instincts, you devoured, your thirst leaving you content to ignore the pandemonium that had broken out among the patrons.

Their shouts echoed in your ears. Bitch. Monster. Demon. Vampire. Someone had thrown a bottle at you. You didn’t even flinch.

By the time you had come to your senses, blood dripping from your mouth, eyes wide and wild, the clan had made a meal of nearly everyone in sight. You caught Severen’s gaze, an expression of pride and affection on his blood-covered face. You stormed over to him, grabbing him by his jacket collar.

“Why did you do that? I’ve known these people for nearly ten years and—“

“Ten years ain’t nothin’. ‘Nother ten and most of ‘em would be dead anyway.”

“That’s not the point! They were my—“

“Friends? Some friends, turned on you real fast once they saw you chowin’ down on your old boss.”

“You better decide what your next move is quick, ‘cause once we burn this place down, cops are gonna be here faster than you can blink,” Diamondback said from a few feet away, pushing aside a young man she’d just drained of blood. Letterman jacket. College football star. Not anymore.

“She’s coming with us,” Severen said in a tone you knew there was no use in trying to argue against. “No more of this human bullshit.”

Jesse nodded. “Alright, then. Let’s light this place up.”

You watched helplessly as they grabbed bottles off the bar, stuffing them with cloth they’d ripped from the bodies of the dead patrons and rushing outside. Severen handed you a bottle, and you had little choice but to throw the explosive when he lit the end of it, watching the life you’d so carefully built for yourself literally go up in flames.

Hearing sirens in the distance, you took Severen’s hand, tears blurring your vision as you ran into the uncertainty of your nomadic life with the Hooker clan.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

In a scenario Atla wasn't with Y7 rating and Ty Lee & Mai seriously wounded or even killed people, don't you think it would psychologically shake them? Like I get violence is extremely normalized in FN, but I think human factor would still get to them to an extent.

The original show has already showed us that the war, sooner or later, affects everyone in a deeply negative way. Iroh's grief over losing his son and the guilt over the role he played in it, Zuko's banishment for daring to see his nations soldiers as people instead of "fresh meat" and all the inner turmoil that causes him, Azula's complete inability to bond with people her leading to her breakdown after years of repressing any doubts and anxieties about being Ozai's perfect child/weapon finally caught up with her, Jeong-Jeong's fear and resenment of his won element after years of being in the Fire Nation's army, etc.

Hell, ending of The Beach has all four Fire Nation teens basically decide to process their inner conflicts through lashing out at other people - first each other, then guests at Chan's party. They all feel trapped in their roles in one way or another, and since they don't know how to handle it, they resort to violence. It's emotional immaturity and repeating the same cicle that trapped in the first place.

Avatar might not have made the characters brutally kill or maim people left and right, but it was never shy about making it clear that war is inherently traumatizing, even for the people that are on the wrong side, winning, not having their homes destroyed, and supporting literal genocide.

And it achieved that by focusing on what was important: character work instead of spectacle.

Aang seeing ONE body, that of his father figure, and breaking down because of it, has way more emotional impact than graphic scenes of the air-nomads being killed and us seeing piles of bodies everywhere. The show cutting to a different scene before we can see Kya's body as Katara rushes back home hits so hard because the focus is on Katara's fear before the confirmation of the death, and the years of grief and trauma the followed it, instead of just "lets see a burnt corpse to show that this is a horrible tragedy."

We don't need to see Ozai burning Zuko's face, but we need to see his tears and sheer terror before it, and his anger and sadness after it. Azula's breakdown is one of the most shocking moments in the show and it is the result of EMOTIONAL abuse destroying her understanding of how relationships are supposed to work, instead of physical violence traumatizing her.

We already see the trauma all this violence is causing, we just don't see the violence itself in gory details - because we don't HAVE to. It wasn't needed, so it wasn't there. That's why the show still appeals to adults that wouldn't mind seeing said gory details: what really matters to make the story work is already there, anything else is at best a bonus and at worse a distraction.

[highfantasy-soul]

NATLA Episode 8 - Legends (4/4)

[Masterlist of my NATLA thoughts]

Of course, full spoilers ahead.

<previous

I think the live-action show wraps up the season a lot better than the animated show did. The animated show just…ends with no dialogue between the Gaang, no momentum forward for the next season. Aang just turns back into himself, hugs Katara, and the three of them stare out over the water, the battle won. There's no lingering on the cost, there's no decisions for the future, it's just…over. I like that the live-action has them grapple with what just happened, process the battle and the losses and how it's not going to end. We see the actual loss from the battle - there's none of that in the animated show. We see Hahn's body, the body of the young waterbender who called Katara master, and we get to see Aang's horror at the violence of war (and what the Avatar state can do) now, right after it happened rather than just ending on the 'high' of him defeating everyone and saving the trauma for next season.

We reiterate the arcs of the season: we can't run away from the pain of war, all we can do is keep fighting for a better future. Sokka's worth isn't in his fighting ability but in his heart and using every aspect of his being to help out. Katara is growth and change and standing up for what's right even when the whole world tells her no - and reminding others of those truths too. And above all, they're going to lean on each other to help save the world - they don't have to do it alone.

Again, we have Katara herself being the one to change Pakku's mind, not some connection with a past love, but Katara and her showing him by her actions and arguments that she was right. Love that he offers her a place helping train new waterbenders, recognizing that she has things to teach that no one else knows - but she turns it down because her place is beside Aang for now. They've got a journey to complete.

The scene with Zuko and Iroh is pulled right from the animated and it's another instance of them knowing exactly what to keep the same - but this time, I feel like Zuko is even MORE tired than in the animated show. This really does leave his path forward more open than it was in the animated series. While his father hasn't outright said he can never return, even if he gets the Avatar, Zuko is now questioning if Zhao was right and what he should do if he is. I think that season 2 can open very similarly to the animated series and I'm looking forward to how they do that.

This final scene with the Gaang is a wonderful summation of the season: this war isn't Aang's fault - death and pain are going to keep coming as long as the fire nation can act with impunity, so Aang needs to let go of the past (not let it paralyze him with the fear that it'll happen again) and take steps toward building a better future. Learn the elements, master the Avatar state, and take down the Fire Lord.

Their little banter right at the end was so cute!!!! Sokka talking about food, Katara judging him for it, Aang joking around - perfect Gaang dynamic there. I love that that's the last thing we see of our protagonists this season: not some epic inspiring speech or act, but just three friends bantering as they get ready to take on an insurmountable challenge - a lighthearted moment after all that darkness.

The stinger of the Fire Nation is a great way to set up next season and the specific challenges the Gaang will face. The full circle strategy of drawing the attention to one place while really attacking to debilitate another was such an awesome callback to Sozin's plan with the Air Nomad invasion. Ozai, I think, is playing it even more intricately. He sets many pieces out on the board and even though he has a feeling certain ones will succeed while others fail, the 'weaker' options still have the change of surprising him.

Ozai says it was always a long shot that Zhao could take the North, but Zhao almost surprised him with his ingenuity of the 'killing the moon spirit' plan. Not that it worked out for him, but there was at least a chance it could have worked. Ozai really sent Azula out to take Omashu - the target that had a greater chance to fall than the entire Northern Water Tribe and gave that plan the best chance to succeed - and it did. He's playing the same game with Azula herself and Zuko - he has a feeling Azula is going to be the one to come out on top, so he waters her the most and gives her the greater resources and tasks that have a chance of success, but he's still waiting to see if all the games and hitting of pressure points sparks something in Zuko that will make him claw to the tops of the ranks. He's the underdog, but I don't believe Ozai has counted him entirely out of the running yet.

I think next season can pick up pretty much the same place the animated series did: Ty Lee at the circus now that Azula is off in the world doing things, Mai and her family taking over Omoshu as 'New Ozai', and Azula sent off into the world to collect Zuko and bring him home since his quest hasn't borne any fruit. Then the Gaang hanging out and training Aang with waterbending and then off to find Aang an earthbending teacher. I think there's also a good chance they'll seed in something of a Jong Jong episode where Aang will attempt firebending as well and include some of the other storylines that didn't make it into season 1. I'll write another post about the storylines cut and why I think that might have been as well as a post about storylines they added.

Overall, I think they did a really great job adapting the animated series to this new format. They deepened a lot of things I thought were glossed over in the animated series (Iroh's past as a general and the loss of characters we got to know and like) and added some really great threads such as Katara's waterbending journey being fully linked to the fire nation trying to destroy her culture and the death of her mother, Sokka learning how to be a whole person and not deny parts of himself just because 'traditional masculinity' is what he thought was needed in this time of war, and Aang really taking the time to grapple with coming to terms with the past and stepping into the future to take his place as the Avatar.

I think they kept the hearts of the characters the same - I genuinely believe they kept Katara's anger and fire (but added more layers to it which I think added depth, it didn't 'water it down'), Sokka's unhealthy relationship with non-traditional masculinity and needing to be in charge added realism and a deeper story than just flat, 2000's sexism, and I love love love how we got to see more of Gyatzo and Aang's relationship heightening Aang's desire to keep the Air Nomad traditions of diplomacy, non-violence, and open friendship alive like he wants to in the animated show.

Aang truly is the Avatar needed for this time. He brings joy and the belief that people are, at heart, good back to a world that has been suffering through a 100 year war.

[ravennaortiz]

Lost and Found: Chapter 2

This is a twisting tale of love, family and loyalty told through present tense and flashbacks.

Trigger Warnings: General themes of the show( death, violence, drinking etc), Minors DNI, implied sexual assault in later chapters.

Jax was sitting at his kitchen table drinking whiskey as he thought over the last few months. A knock at his door pulled him from the rabbit hole he was going down.

“Laddie” greeted Chibs as Jax opened the door. “Hey Chibs” replied Jax as he stepped back to let his VP in before shutting the door and making his way back to the kitchen. “Drink” inquired Jax as he got another glass out. “Course” replied Chibs as he sat down. The two men sat in silence for a few minutes before Chibs spoke.

“How much longer are you gonna punish the kid?” asked Chibs his eyes searching Jax’s face for clues. “I don’t know what you mean brother” replied Jax his stare icy. “A week was all he was supposed to serve Jax. It’s been almost five months now and on top of that you have him sharing a cell with an AB shot caller. No protection and not letting anyone from the club visit but you is extremely wrong and cruel” stated Chibs calmly as he lit a cigarette.

“Changed my mind. As President of this club I get to do that. “ shrugged Jax as he leaned back in his chair avoiding eye contact for fear his eyes would betray him. “True. As President doing that makes it hard for your brothers to trust you” replied Chibs not wanting to set Jax off. Which here lately was getting easier and easier to do unfortunately. Jax frowned as he stared at the floor of his kitchen. He knew what Chibs was saying was true. He had seen the wary looks from the guys and had heard the murmurs of him being out of control.

“You’re not just punishing Juice ya know Laddie?” murmured Chibs soothingly after a few moments of silence. Jax swallowed hard. The words stabbing him like a knife. He had never meant for Scarlett to become a casualty again at his hands. He regretted nothing more than every tear she had shed during these last few months as well as the way he told her to just pick another club member to sleep with when she had confronted him about how long Juice was going to be locked up. “I never meant to Chibs. I tried telling her that again today but she just told me she hated me and always will. That I was just like Clay” replied Jax sorrowfully as he put his head in his hands. Chibs sighed as he rubbed his own face trying to figure out the right words to repair the damage.

“Jackie Boy” stated Chibs firmly causing Jax to look up into his fiery gaze. “I’m going to speak and you are going to sit there  be quiet and listen to every hard truth. I’m then gonna leave and let you choose your course.” He stated as he waited for Jax’s acknowledgement. Jax nodded. He trusted Chibs advice more than anyone. “Juice made one mistake. He was trying to protect the club, he has a good heart. He wasn’t trying to be malicious or destroy us. Yes he should have come to you immediately but he was scared and I can’t blame him. His punishment for his mistake is insane when you consider the fact you, I and Tig have done something similar and Tig also killed Donna. Tig barely got a slap on the wrist for that and you kept that information from Opie and the rest of the club for a long time which makes you just as compliant in my book.” Chibs paused to let Jax process his words before he continues.

  “Not to mention all the positive things Juice has done for the club. Erasing charges, setting up security, performing CPR on your sister as she lay dying on the floor of her own house after Clay sent those Nomads to attack her. An attack brought on because you opposed Clay on gun running and because you had undermined him in front of the club when you approved of Juice and hers relationship after he had tried to forbid it. Juice sat with her for weeks in that hospital room, then taking care of her at home, cleaning her house, hunting those nomads down, helping you get the evidence on Clay and getting you that President patch. The same patch which you are using to abuse him by the way…… just like Clay” finished Chibs as he took a deep breath. His emotions had started to get the better of him at the end causing him to rant some as he leaned into Jax’s space with his finger in his face.

Jax was silent. The words stung but he knew Chibs was right. Memories flooded Jax’s head taking him through the horrors of that day he thought he had lost his sister forever. Those memories haunted him just like Opie’s, Bobby’s and Tara’s final moments. Jax shook his head not wanting to be on this path. Not wanting to confront his demons and the knowledge he had let his need for power and revenge cloud his judgement and let him take things too far. Jax barely registered Chibs patting his shoulder before he left. All he could think was how did we get here and how did it all go so wrong.

***************************************************************

It was dark by the time Scarlett pulled her car into the garage parking alongside Juices Dyna. She sighed as she ran her hand over the leather of the seat as she let the good times play through her mind. The first time they met, beach days, video game and pizza nights, their transition from friends to a couple, him taking care of her after her hospital stay, her moving in with him and everything in between. Scarlett stepped back, brushing the tears away before moving to the door and going inside.

Loud metal music and the smell of cooking food lured Scarlett to the kitchen where she knew she would find their good friends Half-sack and Rat like she had every night for the last five months. Juice had wanted to make sure she never came home to a silent, dark and empty house. While she appreciated that deep down she knew this house would never feel right without his voice, his laughter, his love….without him.

She leaned in the doorway of the kitchen lost in thought. Juice had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure she would be comfortable and safe. He had signed over his bike, house and his share of clear passages to her not to mention transferring her all the money in his accounts. She remembered telling him it wasn’t necessary but he had just smiled sadly and told her it was just in case.

“Shit Scar” yelled Rat as he turned around finally noticing her as he dropped the plate in his hands and made Half-Sack jump too. “Sorry guys” apologized Scarlett as she stepped into the kitchen with a small laugh as she picked the plate up. “It’s okay” replied Rat as he shook his head with a grin and took the plate from her. “Sit down, dinners almost done” he added. “How is Juice?” asked Half-Sack as he took stuff out of the oven. “As okay as he can be given the unfair and barbaric punishment Jax is dealing out” replied Scarlett. “What did you two do today?” asked Scarlett changing the subject. Scarlett listened to the two talk while they ate dinner before departing to her room early.

What if I’m not strong enough to handle this, thought Scarlett as she lay in her bed until she cried herself to sleep.

Return to Chapter List

[fanficsforheartandsoul]

You’re Somebody Else | Ghost x Fem!Reader | Prologue

Update: I split the prologue because I feel like the pacing fits better if it’s split into two parts.

Note: This is based on a request which I changed a bit since I did not play any other Call of Duty game besides Modern Warfare 2 (2022). I did a bit of research tho for the older games so I hope it’s not complete bullshit that I’m pulling out of my ass, also related to the military stuff xD 

Thank you for this first request of my current favorite character :)) 

Also a warning, this series will be angsty as hell but I’m not planning to make it very long, as I learned my lesson with a certain witcher fic xD 

This fic has religious undertones at least in this part, I hope I don’t make anyone uncomfortable with this. I grew up Christian (tho I’m an atheist now) and I thought a bit about how I would react if I was suddenly in a parallel universe where I and several other people are supposed to be dead.

Warnings: Death, Mentions of Gore, Angst, COD Typical Violence, Mentions of Original Characters, Mention of Religion and Hell, Inaccurate Depiction of Medical Stuff, Injuries and prolly Military, Transmigration (lol)

Summary:  You watched him die and yet he’s somehow still alive. You’re certain that you’ve died too and yet you’re still kicking. Is this a message from the universe? A second chance to make things right? To confess? You want to believe it but you quickly realize that he’s not the same man you knew and loved. Yet your heart is fluttering when he touches you. Can you love this new version of him?

Word Count: 1.2k

Taglist: -

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)

Masterlist

Part I, Part II, Part III, ...

“Fucking hell, there’s so many of ‘em!”

Lynx fires her rifle next to you and you do the same, feeling the recoil on your shoulder. You only waste a millisecond to check if your target is actually hit and then immediately focus on the next enemy. 

Below your position the LZ is hot and the hill on the other side is bombarded with mortars. 

You know it’s hell down there and yet you wish you were between those trees instead of the elevated bush area from where you currently provide cover fire. 

He is there and in this very moment you want to be by his side. No matter the heavy gunfire. 

“You still see them?!” your partner asks from your right, and you affirm her question as you kill another hostile. 

Roach and Ghost are steadily moving forward in between the onslaught of Russian soldiers and growing relief trickles through your veins with every step they take. 

But then they run out of the tree line and before either of you can react, a mortar shell explodes right in front of them, and Roach is sent flying. 

“No, fuck, NO!” Lynx yelps and the panic in her voice is earth-shattering. 

“He’s not dead, Anna!” you shout and grab her by the shoulder, stopping her from standing up. She bites her lips but thankfully remains on the ground, just inching a bit forward, desperate to spot her lover alive. 

You pray that your words are true and thank fuck they are; seconds later Ghost drags a shooting Roach away from the trees and the red flare that the masked man popped for Thunder-Two-One. 

“Jesus Christ”, you hear the woman beside you whisper, “I’ll beat his ass when we’re back home!” 

A nervous bubbly laugh escapes you and you hope that you all can return to base safe and in one piece. 

“Move, Ghost! We’ll cover you!” you speak into your mic. 

His voice rings through your earbud “copy that, Nomad!” and you breathe out shakily. Yeah, everything will be fine. 

With your eyes you watch how Thunder-Two-One sends a merciless spray of machine gun fire into the tree line, but you can’t see beyond the smoke and instead focus your scope on the few enemy soldiers that emerge from the grey fog. You take them out one by one. 

You’re about to send another bullet into an approaching hostile when your radio crackles. 

“Gold Eagle is on the ground. Watch for snipers on thermal, over.” 

Lynx makes a noise beside you. “Isn’t it just us and Adle-“ 

Blood suddenly sprays and you blink. Your lips taste iron, your right eye is watering and with one glance to your right the sounds of the battlefield all turn into white noise. 

Instinctively you press yourself against the grass, your left cheek touches the damp ground and with wide eyes you stare at Anna’s unmoving body. Your partner is dead. Shot in the head. 

Based on the whizz of the bullet and the spray of blood that hit you it must have been a sniper who killed her. For a second you think the Russians sneaked up on you, but then you remember the words through the radio; Watch for snipers… 

Realization trickles through your veins. Someone must have betrayed you. 

Your heart sinks and within a millisecond you make a decision. 

You roll to your left, gripping your rifle tightly and a bullet passes overhead, barely missing your shoulder. But it did miss and you’re rolling down the side of the hill. 

The tumble returns your ability to hear, and the sound of the helicopters combined with your racing heartbeat is deafening. 

The small incline of your hiding place saved your life for now and although you know deep down that your luck probably won’t last, you are thankful in this very moment. 

Tears well up in your eyes but you rub them away with your sleeve. A red smear appears on the fabric, and you clench your jaw. Focus, you don’t have time for this right now!! 

You know that whoever killed Anna is probably relocating right now to get a good shot at you, but you don’t care. 

You need to know what’s happening to him, if he dies- 

“Ghost?! Lynx is KIA, someone cut us! Do you copy?!” 

You anxiously wait for an answer, but your radio stays silent. 

Breathing out shakily, you lift yourself from the ground and rush behind a tree to shield your right flank. The dust that is kicked up by the many helicopters, which gathered on the plain, is making it difficult for you to spot the man you’re looking for, but the big Boeing helicopter used to transport the General is a good reference point. 

You position your rifle and adjust your scope to find the heli. 

The clouds of dust are thick, but like a miracle you spot the General- leaning over Roach, Simon laying motionlessly beside them, his grey sweater showing a bloom of red as if he was shot-

Your scream is stuck in your throat, and you watch frozen as Shepherd retrieves the DSM from Gary and simply leaves while four Shadow company soldiers step forward. 

Tears well up again and this time you let them fall as the world begins to spin. 

“No, no, no, please-!” you whimper, sucking in air through your clenched teeth and without a second thought you rush forward. 

You make it about 60 meters before a bullet through your right shoulder throws you off balance and sends you straight to the ground. Hot flaming pain shoots through your body and the brute force of your crash and your rifle painfully pressing against your ribs take the air out of your lungs. 

Dazed you lift your head, heavy from the weight of your helmet, and for a moment your vision is blurry; you blink to regain focus. 

In the distance you see the soldiers clad in black, carrying Gary’s and Simon’s limp bodies to a spot without grass. They drop them like two sacks of potatoes and the pain in your heart is worse than the one of your bullet wound. 

A wail escapes your throat, and you try to lift your body from the ground, to crawl forward, but your limbs feel like lead, and you don’t have the strength to move. 

Your radio crackles and your ear bud lets Captain Price’s voice come through: “Ghost, come on, this is Price! We’re under attack by Shepherd’s men…” 

You can hear gunfire from his side and in one last effort you pull your rifle from underneath you. 

The fact that Taskforce 141- you were betrayed by your superior, the man who you considered a father figure at one point in your life, that he killed the man you loved- love… That fact stokes something inside of you and that barely gives you the strength to position your rifle. 

Weakly you watch how the Shadow company bastards douse your friends, your brothers, the ones you love with gasoline and Shepherd’s plan dawns on you. Bile rises in your throat and you sob through clenched teeth.

You place your finger on the trigger but in the end, you don’t get the chance to pull it. 

The general casually drops his cigar and Gary’s and Simon’s corpses go up in flames right as a bullet enters the back of your head.

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficmas2022: Christmas Eve: Variable Stars

Happy Holidays everyone. Another Ficmas is behind us <3

Tonight, I thought maybe a little part from the next chapter of Variable Stars.

Stay safe, stay healthy, have a wonderful few days <3

variable stars.

Some things are inevitable; Alice knows this well enough. Her death, for instance - setting foot in that hospital when she was a newborn, where the doctor knew who she was… that was a place people went to die, not to heal.

Realising that the only thing her gift would bestow upon her was death, destruction, and the legacy of a monster was another. 

Oh, and Jasper being someone important. There had always been something about him, even when h

e was a nomadic grump. 

But Alice has accepted that certain things are inevitable and avoiding them, or pretending they aren’t going to happen. The only thing she can really do is accept them, and face them head on, no matter how nervous or uncomfortable she might be. 

That is to say, she’s heard about Peter and Charlotte before; Jasper’s got lots of stories about them and it’s nice to hear to his stories - she’d like to set Maria ablaze for some of the things she did to him, and she’s more than a little bit sorry that she never made it for enough into Mexican to make the woman burn for her sins, but Jasper seems to be mostly at peace with everything that happened to him. 

(He worries more over her stories, which she finds funny. A couple of bites is nothing, and she makes it abundantly clear that she walked away the victor in those battles. When she says that, he always relaxes, like he’s worrying for her in that actual moment even when she’s sitting opposite him playing Go Fish in pom-pom socks.)

Sometimes she wonders what he would say if she told him the real story about how she woke up. About the one named James and the woman with him, about what she did to him, about finding the hospital and going inside and decimating it, killing every single person she found. If he’d be mad at her, or disgusted, or angry for her or what. 

It’s purely academic of course; she’s never, ever going to tell him all of that. As much as the past doesn’t bother him, she still remembers how he used to look, how he used to carry himself all those decades ago. She doesn’t want to add more violence, more rage to the burdens he carries. 

(She never wants to become one of his stories, like Maria.)

In all his tellings of Peter and Charlotte, she assumed she’d meet them one day. But that ‘one day’ was just some distant point in the future, never fixed. Meeting people he treasures in such a way, who knew him way back when, that seems monumental and nerve-wracking. And she’s more than happy for that even to be put off as long as possible. 

She’s certainly not expecting them to just show up at the house one day, when the ‘kids’ are meant to be clearing the backyard to break ground on Esme’s greenhouse, and she’s mostly hiding on the roof from the leaf-branch-rock war that’s occurring below her. (Emmett threw one rock at her, and luckily she caught it before it hit the skylight but Esme caught him and the end result was that Emmett was absolutely going to get her back at some point. And no rocks were to be thrown in the direction of the house.)

“Jasper!”

They emerge out of the forest like some kind of myth and it’s not hard to realise who the pair are - Charlotte and Peter look exactly as they do in the few photos that Jasper has of them - like old-world film stars who have been rolling around the forest for a few weeks. She uses a rake to defend herself from the barrage of sticks and branches that Emmett suddenly launched at her, before dropping to the ground, as Charlotte chatters at Jasper.

(She’s definitely changed since she arrived, not noticing them until they were upon the house. She’s not entirely sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing.)

His arms are around both of them, and he looks down at them with the sort of doting affection that Emmett bestows upon Bella (and her, if she’s honest with herself and willing to accept that she’s more apart of the Cullens than she ever acknowledges.) It makes her feel a little odd, watching him with the pair, like she’s on the outside looking in.

But what does she expect, really? She’s nothing more to Peter and Charlotte than Emmett is. On paper, she is to Jasper as he is to Rosalie - another Cullen sister. She has no good reason to feel like this. Jasper’s allowed - and loudly encouraged - to have a life outside of her. 

So why does she have the urge to push both of them away from him because she’s the one that gets to climb all over him?

Very odd.

Edward’s watching her curiously, so she throws the rake at him like a javelin, and he lets out an indignant noise as he darts out of the way.

“The gloves are off now, brat! No mercy!” he yells back, half-laughing at her, but instead of throwing something at her, he walks back to the house with Bella, shaking his head, and offering a careless wave to Peter and Charlotte. 

“Who is this?” Charlotte smiles at her. And that’s all it is, a smile. There is nothing calculated or judgemental about it. Alice decides she likes that - she doesn’t like the idea that anyone is predetermining what they think of her. It’s easier now, of course, that she has clean clothes and shoes and combed hair. She might still opt for the short dresses, because they were always the easiest not to let catch on fire when she was… they were always the easiest. But she has the option of a million different clothes, and none of them have ever gotten so dirty or holey as her old ones. 

“This is Alice,” Jasper looks at her. “She joined us a while ago. We met a few times before I met the Cullens.”

“Alice, it is so nice to meet you!” Charlotte reaches out to take her hands, but Peter flinches and both of them look over towards him.

Peter looks … confused but distant as he stares at her. 

“Peter?” Charlotte is concerned, and moves closer to her mate which lets Alice slip beside Jasper. 

She’s always tried to place the familiarity of Peter and Charlotte, but she’s never managed it. She never attacked them or fought them - she can count her survivors on her fingers - and she knows from Jasper that the only coven they have ever been apart of was the Monterrey coven, and she never made it down that far into Mexico. 

“Where are you from, Alice?” Peter asks, and unlike Charlotte, whilst the words are pleasant and his body language is relaxed, it is not genuine and his eyes are wary. 

“Mississippi,” she smiles brightly. It’s the smile she gives Rosalie when Rosalie complains that she was never formally invited to join the family. A winning, sugar-sweet dumb-as-a-bag-of-bricks smile and probably a poor choice in the moment but it’s the only weapon she’s got - unless Peter gets violent. 

“You fight in the Wars?”

“Nope. Went through Louisiana when I was young, and learnt my lesson. High-tailed it north. There’s no way I would have lasted a second as a soldier,” she shudders theatrically. That’s a dirty lie - she remembers more than one victim who tried to convince her - pleaded with her - to join their army, join their campaign and spare their life. 

“We’d be unstoppable.”

She already was. 

Peter relaxes further. “You look familiar,” he shrugs. “Nothing good comes out of lookin’ familiar down south.”

“Florida,” Charlotte says with a shrug. And that’s that. Whoever she is, she isn’t significant or dangerous in Peter’s eyes anymore. 

(They go hunting later, because Charlotte and Peter are good sports, and seem to have a long running argument-debate with Jasper about the viability of an animal-only diet, and that’s when she stops cold, her memory suddenly crystal clear. 

A couple - a blond man and a girl with long hair that is almost pink, and they smell like the dust and ash of the South…

… She lets the power peek through her eyes, her skin, and they flee, the girl’s eyes wide with horror as they depart. 

Whatever they saw in the South is nowhere near as threatening or terrible as her.

She was going to hurt them. She would have killed them without a second thought, just for having the bad luck of crossing paths with her. She was going to kill Jasper’s oldest and closest friends because, what, she saw them in a forest one time?

She wants to be sick, she’s a goddamn monster.)

//

After Peter and Charlotte visit, Alice is distant. She’s a little bit sad and ashamed and distant. And that hurts - he doesn’t know why, and it’s never, ever been him that has triggered one of Alice’s moods. Carlisle does it simply by breathing in her direction some days; any sort of commentary on her literacy and education from Rosalie and Edward; and any time Bella and Esme make any sort of comment that Alice’s gift is somehow lesser than Bella’s. 

Oh, and Emmett’s repeated implication that she wouldn’t survive in a fight without her gift. She’ll glower in his direction for several days after any comments along that line. 

But never him. He’s the one that talks her out of her moods, that prompts a smile and maybe a hug. He’s the one that listens to her vent and bitch; the one who takes her running to get out her frustrations at living in a family of seven in close, static quarters after being a solitary nomad. He dances with her and tells her everything he lov… appreciates about her, that she stays with the Cullens because of him, and he hopes he’s worth it. 

This time, he doesn’t know how to fix it. She stays in her room more - Esme’s been teaching her to sew, and she’s taken to stitching odd little patterns on her dresses (and hemming anything that Esme thinks is an acceptable length shorter because Alice is nothing if not stubborn.) 

He goes over the three days that Charlotte and Peter stayed with them, trying to work out what had gone wrong. Had Charlotte or Peter upset her? Said something?

Had he?

She’d been a little nervous and curious when they arrived but everything had been fine until they’d gone hunting. Then… she’d been quieter, had fallen back a little. He hadn’t noticed, hadn’t been paying close enough attention. 

She had been a little strange when Peter had thought he recognised her, her emotions a foreign cocktail of wariness and irritation. He’s not sure why Peter would inspire such a reaction, but Alice had alluded to some less than savoury interactions over her life but Peter’s harmless unless provoked. And he didn’t even know her but Alice was still upset…

It just doesn’t make sense. 

“Instead of sitting around moping, go and talk to her,” Edward finally snapped, closing his book. But his mood is more amused than irritated. Jasper shoots him a dark look before stalking upstairs, ostensibly to go into his study to consider the problem in solitude, but Alice’s door is partially open, and she’s curled up in a sad little ball on the day-bed, staring through her window at the sky. 

Self-loathing. That one he’s intimately acquainted with, and he hates that his Alice is suffering that, is thinking that way about herself.

He slips in - the room is dark, with the curtains only open enough that she can see out. Her sewing is an uncharacteristic jumble on her desk. 

“Hey,” he says softly, sitting on the end of the day-bed. The bedspread is one she picked out herself, after hours of contemplation and slight confusion over the sheer choice available online. It’s a patchwork of florals and patterns, amusingly oversized, and more girlish than he expected her to choose. It smells like her, honey-and-lemon-and-ozone. 

She doesn’t acknowledge him but lets out a sigh. 

“Can monsters change?”

[thisloveforyourmom]

I think the thing a lot of people don't realize is that the whole "release all your earthly attachments to enter the avatar state" wasn't, like...the only way possible to make it happen.

Aang was never going to be able to release all his earthly attachments. No avatar was ever going to be able to do that. Yangchen says it best: air nomad (and other spiritual) philosophy teaches detachment, but detachment from the worlds they're supposed to protect is the one thing the avatar can never afford. Aang isn't supposed to release his affection for Katara. Aang isn't supposed to release his attachment to his culture. The other Avatars didn't! It's Aang's affection for the world that gives him the drive to save it.

But he still can't enter the Avatar State. Why? The real reason isn't loving Katara — it's that he can't conceptualize the Avatar State as anything other than a means of inflicting pain. Kyoshi uses the Avatar State to speak through him to confess to murder. He flies into an Avatar State-fueled rage when he finds out about the death of his people. He utilizes the Avatar State when Katara 'dies,' but not as a means of protection, as a means of revenge. When he's attempting to enter the Avatar State to fight Azula, it's not to protect Katara and Sokka. It's to fight Azula. The block is real, but it's the same block that he struggled with regarding Ozai: Aang is not someone who enjoys or seeks violence, and he's begun very powerfully associating the Avatar State with violence.

Ozai doesn't just 'happen to push him into a rock in the exact right spot.' At that point in the fight, Aang has had a chance to end it — to kill Ozai with his own redirected lightning — and refused. Ozai kept coming, and Aang is hiding in a shell because he has no other options. He has no plan. He has no strategy. He cannot kill Ozai, and he cannot end the fight without killing Ozai. Ozai has forced him into violence.

So the Avatar State reactivates, at Aang's most desperate moment, when frustration and desperation and sheer will to survive overtake him. He gives into the pressure on all sides telling him to fight fire with fire. He goes on the offensive, and comes very, very close to killing Ozai.

But he comes out of the Avatar State when he realizes that he has been able to use force for something other than death and destruction. He's done something he was completely unable to do on his own: Ozai is restrained, and he's bought himself a moment to think, and to ultimately decide on what to do.

And he's able to use the Avatar State freely after this, not because he's given up his connection to the world, not because of a rock, but because he's learned restraint. Not pacifism; restraint. He's learned he's capable of using force, but just enough. Of protecting rather than hurting out of instinct.

[dzthenerd490]

Dark Blood Chapter 25: New Blood, New Masters

.

Trigger Warning! This Chapter contains several depictions of child death, torture, overwhelming fear, dread, depression, emotional manipulation, mutilation, violence, fighting, blood, and gore. Reader's discretion is highly advised!

.

The sun was close to setting as Insaro, Kira, and Dolo with the four remaining Arkums were continuing their hunt for food and reinforcements through Fayetteville.

"Geez this is boring, how come everything is deserted?"

"I've been wondering that too papa. We've been walking for a few hours, and we haven't seen anything or anybody useful."

"Those damn rodents are pure savages, they've found a way to turn the tables before it was even set and have been purging our brothers and sisters before they were even born."

"Oh, you mean like the one I ate? If they have the power to kill us, then it would make sense for them to use it but then why haven't we spotted any of them or their pet androids either?"

When I looked through the rodent's thoughts, I saw he was in an underground hive. A bunker, I believe it's called."

"Really? But even so why aren't they helping those that are still being attacked by us?"

"I also saw them hunting down Zerku parasites while they were still larva and killing any rodents that stood in their way. They did it to enslave and harvest them of their blood to make the Spirit Stone."

"Wait, seriously? But isn't the purpose of the Zerku Parasites to protect humanity from the Darkness in the first place? Why would humans betray their own protectors like that?"

"I don't know but it would explain why there's so little life left on this planet in such a short time, besides us being the reason of course."

"... Nazi's." Insaro and Dolo stopped in their tracks and turned around to see Kira was a little behind them.

"The rodents you are talking about are Neo Nazi's... I know this because my bastard of a father was one of them."

"Fuck... that must have sucked."

"It did, they are the exact reason I hate humanity, in fact they are the very definition of humanity's cruelty. They hate the Zerku, they hate other rodents with different skin tones, that are from different countries and worship different religions. they also always do this weird salute and say white power! And that was just the white supremacist, there were different hate groups all over the world that fought for their own version of perfection and supremacy." Insaro and Dolo couldn't help but look at each other in confusion.

"But wait that still doesn't make sense, why would they hate Zerku then? Why would your dad hate you?"

"... Because we were viewed as mistakes of God."

"Well, that's not entirely wrong, but still, it's common knowledge throughout all of the universe that Zerku protects humans. even if this is a nomad planet, it's a human nomad planet so the inhabitants should know at least that that."

"Regardless, I knew Rodents were dumb but that's just retarded, and I think even saying that is too nice."

"Rodents have always found stupid reasons to kill and enslave one another but for them to inflict that hatred on the Zerku created by the false god Eden who made them for the sole reason to protect humanity? I've never felt more justified in bringing them to their extinction."

"Heh, and if they're too busy killing their protectors then it will just make the job easier for us."

"... Don't underestimate these rodents Dolo, we all saw what kind of danger they oppose." Insaro then continued walking to which Kira, Dolo, and the other four Arkums followed.

"Pfft! So, what if they may have fancy gear that allows them to slay a few of us, they're numbers have been withering since the moment we got here. We on the other hand have been growing in numbers and strength every day, they will easily be purged!"

"They have an army as well Dolo. I don't know what the exact numbers of their masses are, but I still wouldn't take them lightly." Dolo was getting annoyed at this point but ultimately just decided to give up and grunted. Kira on the other hand, had an idea.

"Papa, I believe that I and the other Fallen would be immune to their anti-Arkum weapons, therefore we should be the ones to strike the Nazi's."

"Hm, theoretically that would make sense... yes, yes! That will work! After we are done with the child me, the other perfects, and Arkum pawns with continue to search the world for rodents and Arkums while you and the other Fallen will focus pacifically on the Nazi's!" Kira was smiling but then it faded into a face of sadness.

"Papa, does that mean you and I will be separated." Insaro and Kira then stopped walking while Dolo continued walking but then stopped when he noticed they did and saw Insaro kneeling to Kira.

"Kira, my dear, we all have our place in the order. It may be hard but it's what gives us reason in our lives, and that reason makes us strong. Isn't that what you wanted? To be strong enough to get your revenge on humanity." Kira then remembered her abusive father and her mother who had to hide her true Zerku nature. Kira then clenched her fists in anger and started crying blood.

"Yes, I want to kill them all!" Insaro's grin then widened as he wiped Kira's bloody tears away.

"Good, focus on why you want to kill them all, and not only will you find the strength to get it done but nothing will be able to stop you." Kira then managed to smile again and Insaro laughed a little while playfully pinching Kira's cheeks to which she laughed while playfully pushing him away. When they got to walking and scouting again however, while Kira was blissfully unaware, Dolo was having a mind link with Insaro. Insaro how long do you plan to keep the Fallen?

Why are you asking me this Dolo?

You and I both know that once the Overlords get to this planet, and they will! They will destroy all the Fallen, with or without our help. So, are you planning to kill her before that or make the lords do your dirty work?

She is a member of the order now and she will help us get rid of the child once and for all. Once the Overlords see her of her accomplishments, they will accept her and the rest of Fallen into the order.

It's been an eternity since any Fallen has joined any side of the war! Everyone knows the only fallen to every truly join the darkness was Noah, the friend of Lord Grim! that was billions of years ago! What makes you think the Overlords will overlook such a fact for the sake of ONE victory?

Because she and her army are our best hope at killing a Child of Eden you and I both knew that using Arkums and nightmares alone will just get us all killed.

And what if they don't think that's good enough?

... Then she will die.

I feel that you are growing attached to her, growing attached to allies isn't the way of the order! You may be purged as well!

If that is what it will come to then so be it, as an Arkum I don't fear death, I fear failing my mission just like anyone else created by the order. Now stop questioning me and get to searching, we can't afford to miss anything!

All I'm saying is that if we keep the Fallen it will all only end in tears.

Arkums don't shed tears. Now will you just do as your told? I know what I am doing and what the consequences are if we fail, but I do not believe we will. Why? Because the way I see it, everything always works out if you put effort into it. And I plan to use all my effort to win this war by any means possible.

***

As the sun rose to start a new day; Insaro, Kira, and Dolo were still walking down the street with the seven remaining Arkum pawns. Kira was actually quite surprised how she wasn't even a little bit tired, though Insaro explained to her that those with the black blood don't ever get tired and only rest when desired. Kira found this strange but didn't mind it for long, so she continued to walk with them peacefully, at least until a giant bolder hit Dolo. The boulder broke into pieces instantly and Dolo didn't notice until he saw the debris.

"Huh? Did something just hit me?"

"Oh, now what? did the rodents make an android that throws boulders now?"

"I don't think those are androids, Papa." Kira then pointed to a group of kids in ragged clothing glaring at them. Kira then waved joyfully at them but then an older kid jumped out in front of them, and then instantly blue glowing whips manifested in his hands. The boy then whipped Dolo in the chest and Insaro in the head. Despite the whips seemingly being thin and weak their attack left a large slash in Dolo's chest that even almost cut him in two but actually ended up cutting off Insaro's head. Insaro held his head in his hands and seemingly looked at himself with it.

"... Rude." Insaro was about to unleash his genocide mode, but Kira quickly ran in front of him and raised her hands to stop both Insaro and the kid from doing anything else.

"Stop! don't fight!"

"You... your with those dark beasts, why didn't they try to kill you?"

"Um, that's because..." Kira then looked back to Insaro nervously, Insaro wasn't sure what Kira was planning but knew that regardless this could be a good learning experience for her. So, to give her the encouragement to continue he gave her two thumbs up while Dolo gave her a thumbs down. Insaro then grabbed Dolo's arm and twisted it so that it now looked like a thumbs up to which Dolo simply said "ouch." despite it not actually hurting him. Kira smiled and laughed a little because of this, she then faced the confused kid again with confidence.

"Ahem! Because I am a Fallen! A Zerku like you that um... that doesn't do the mindless bidding of the false God lord Kiden." Insaro and Dolo then started laughing to which Kira glared back at them. Insaro then stopped laughing first but then punched Dolo's head off to which he stopped laughing and went to go get his head.

"Ahem, I found a better way of life and as um, Queen of the Fallen I can help you see that better path two."

"... how old are you?"

"Um, Six."

"Pfft! Hahahahaha! Why should I listen to a pipsqueak like you?"

"Hey! I may be smaller and younger, but I am stronger!"

"Oh yeah? Prove it." Kira was now quite aggravated at this point and then punched the older kid, but he just laughed and punched her back hard on the cheek. The Arkum pawns were aggravated by this and tried to rush forward and to assist Kira but then Insaro raised his hand to show them to wait. Kira's cheek now really hurt but she instead smiled as she activated the pentagram on her back and three of her bloody hands sprouted out. Surprisingly they blood arms wrapped around each other and fused into a larger bloody arm which then made a fist to punch the older boy hard in the jaw.

The boy staggered due to the intense amount of force that hit his face, a normal human would have had their head torn off, but the older boy just had a somewhat dislocated jaw. Insaro and Dolo started laughing while Kira looked back and smiled brightly and proudly at them. After the boy's jaw healed, he was mad and then used his whip to slice off the large bloody arm, to which Kira yelped in pain. Losing tentacles was not painful to the Fallen, for it wasn't attached to their bodies. However, that was not why Kira yelped in pain, but because her own hand was also cut off.

Kira screamed out in pain and even started crying her blood, Dolo continued to hold the Arkum pawns back as Insaro ordered him to through their physic link. However, what confused Dolo was how Insaro himself obviously wanted to help Kira. He was standing but shaking in anger and despite this had a large smile on his face. Dolo then noticed that the kids behind the older boy all looked scared at the older boy while he himself was looking proud of himself. Kira who was still crying crimson tears then glared at the older boy in anger. Then what was left of her arm then started pulsating for it was being filled with a large amount of the black blood in her veins. It then burst like a balloon into a large claw-like arm as more bloody arms sprouted from her back. The older boy was now looking at Kira in fear, he panicked and tried to slash her again with the intent to cut her head off. However, Kira's black blood arm grabbed the whip and flung it away as it disappeared. The black blood arm then grabbed the boy and then slammed him into the ground and then all her bloody arm tentacles then started punching him more and more and more.

"Stop it!" Just then Kira stopped when a little girl ran up to her while crying normal tears.

"Please stop! *sniff* if you keep hitting him, he'll die!"

"... so what?"

"Huh?"

"What does it matter if I kill him? ... also-" just then one of Kira's bloody arms slapped the girls head, the intense force vaporized her head into a mist of blood and had her body slam into the ground like a ragdoll.

"What does it matter if I kill you?" Insaro then instantly started laughing as the other kids started screaming in horror and running away. Kira thought of them as a waste of time, so she was about to continue crushing the older boy but then Insaro put his hand on her shoulder.

"A kingdom can only be built by bodies, not on corpses." Kira was still glaring angrily but then she started to calm down as he bloody arm tentacles reverted into her back and her large black blood arm shrunk and turned into a new normal arm. Kira however was started crying again and then hugged Insaro while he hugged her back and patted her head gently.

"It's alright my little rose you did good. Oy, Dolo round up the kid specifically, the Zerku make sure they don't get hurt; not the rodents though, if they struggle then feel free to break their fingers." Dolo then laughed sinisterly and zoomed after the running children with the Arkum pawns running with him like a pack of cheetahs. Kira then quickly pushed Insaro away to which his face changed to now his surprised face.

"... what?" Kira then put her fists to the sides of her waist and then pouted angrily at Insaro.

"I am the strongest!" Insaro's eyes now changed from circles to half circles to show his disappointed expression, He then patted her on the head.

"You are not the strongest but trust me when I say you will be. I mean if you're going to rule over the Fallen, you'll have to be stronger than anything, even a Child of Eden." Insaro then picked Kira up and walked over to the heavily injured older boy who was regenerating at a snail's pace.

"Speaking of which, yo tough guy, wake the fuck up." Insaro kicked the older boy, to which he turned his head and opened his eyes to look up at Insaro and Kira. He then started to cry due to the intense pain.

"I'm gonna make you a deal, if you can get up in the next ten seconds then you can become a Fallen but if you can't then my daughter is going to eat your core you parasite." Kira then looked at Insaro in both confusion and concern.

"Um..."

"Oh right, Ahem! Kira, all immortal beings of either light or darkness have a core, it's like a super organ that acts as all essential organs every organic creature needs a heart, a brain, and even a stomach, it's needed for us to remain alive for our infinite life span, without it, poof! We are nothing more than dust, however those of us with the darkness have a little cheat code. When we eat the cores of others, either darkness or light, we can gain everything they were and had as well as their powers and abilities. So, you know if this tough guy doesn't get up and show his devotion to his new queen then he can at least be a good snack." Kira then nodded to show she understood, she then faced the older boy and smirked deviously. The older boy was instantly filled with fear, it tried his best to get up as fast as he could. However, this was a big mistake as he finally managed to stand up something on his spin snapped and he accidentally spat a lot of blood on Kira's face.

"Oops, she's probably gonna be mad about that." Kira then glared at the older boy in pure rage and then without thinking she started screaming in anger. Soon her screams turned into roars and as she roared her mouth started to rip open wider. Her head practically ripped open like a flower bud and then just as fast she chomped down on his head devouring him entirely and by extent his core. After she swallowed, her head reverted to normal but then she started stumbling around like a horrible headache. Just as she started to fall Insaro caught her in his arms.

"Ah, it's ok Kira your good, wow though! I didn't think you'd be ready to manipulate your body to such a degree."

"Eh?"

"Oh, that's another thing Kira, those with the black blood are able to manipulate their bodies at will. Whether it be simple tissue mutation, temporary body shifting, or even full on genetic alteration, nothing is off the table for us. thought of course it's easier to get it done by more powerful being... like the Queen of the Fallen for example." Kira's eyes, now in normal form, sparkled in excitement; she then looked at her hands mesmerized and then looked at Insaro with a mixed look of happiness and determination.

"Lord Insaro, we got all the brats." Insaro and Kira then turned to see Dolo and the seven Arkum pawns surrounding the children. The children were all deeply scared as the Arkum pawns were laughing at them and some of them even mocking them by pretending to want to bite at them. Insaro then smiled wider and then stood up to talk to them all but then Kira raised her hand to stop him and then pointed at herself. Insaro had his surprised expression, but then turned back to his normal smile and he nodded. Kira then smiled and walked toward the group of kids.

"I am Kira queen of the fallen! And I have an offer to you Zerku-" just then a piece of mud was flung at Kira's face and then a crying yet angry boy stepped forward.

"Give him back! Give me back my brother!"

"... he's a rodent. kill him." the Arkum pawn opened its mouth and swallowed him up, as Kira ordered without hesitation. As the Arkum pawn swallowed the boy it decided to play a cruel joke by puking out the little boy's bones in front of the other kids. They all started screaming and crying out of overwhelming fear.

"QUIET!" Kira then unintentionally used her psychic powers and they all suddenly shut their mouths despite still crying and trying to scream.

"*sigh* I'm not your enemy, or at least I'm not trying to be, you have no idea who the enemy really is. But I will show you." Kira then finally let them all go, they were still scared and crying but no longer screamed.

"Now I don't care for human rodents I only want Zerku. But above all I want your loyalty... kill your human friends." All the Arkum pawns then started smiling and growling joyfully while Dolo and Insaro started laughing.

"Hahaha! You heard the girl! Time to prove your loyalty!" Only now did Kira realize what she had said. She didn't regret it, but she was surprised that she was indeed the one that said it. She didn't care about what happened to humans, but she was surprised that she would do something so cruel as to order a bunch of Zerku children to kill their human friends. It just didn't seem like something she would ever say to children, especially Zerku children.

"Hahaha, hey how about we make this interesting, if the human kids managed to kill the Zerku then we will let you all go, and you'll never see us again. I promise!" Kira then looked at Insaro in confusion and then looked back at the kids. They all looked at each other in fear not sure of what to do, but then a boy picked up a rock and hit another little girl in the head.

"Quick kill them all! Thier just EVO freaks anyways, who cares!" All the other kids now looked at the boy in horror, but the little girl suddenly turned fat and she punched the boys head so hard that not only did it fly off, but it impacted the nearest building and now just looked like a swatted fly.

"Zut! c'était un coup de grâce! (Damn! That was a knockout!)"

"Non avrebbe potuto dirlo meglio, Dolo! (couldn't have said it better, Dolo!)" Out of overwhelming fear and confusion the kids all started attacking each other like a bunch of rabid dogs. Kira wasn't a stranger to gore at this point but seeing a bunch of kids no older than her tear each other apart was not easy on her so she backed up to Insaro and held onto his leg. Insaro then patted her head to comfort her all while his grin had become wider than ever due to the slaughtering in front of him.

When the carnage was finally over there were only about five kids left including the little girl from the beginning. They all then realized what they had done and started crying in fear and asking for their parents to save them. The Arkum pawns were starting to get annoyed but then Dolo sent them orders through the mind link. They all then started eating the leftover meat until they were finally ready to hatch.

"Hehe, I call dibs on this little killer." Dolo then went to the little girl and then extended his hand to her.

"It's ok, the rodents can't hurt you anymore, as long as you do as I say I won't let anyone hurt you." Dolo wiped the blood off her face and his head split, releasing a demonic tongue that licked it off his hand.

"Do- do you promise?" Dolo looked back at the girl and seemingly chuckled in delight, he then held out his other hand and pointed his pinky out.

"I pinky promise!" The little girl looked surprised by this but then she slowly started to smile and then started laughing joyfully. She then locked pinkies with Dolo and soon after hugged him, Dolo hesitated at first but then hugged her back. Dolo then caught Insaro looking at him, though neither of them had actual faces, Dolo could see Insaro was smirking at him to which Dolo rolled his non-existent eyes. Soon after the red lighting stopped and the four of the seven Arkums were finally done hatching while the other three were dangerously close.

"I am Omora-te, master of suicide."

"I am Nee-Bunie, Master of despair"

"I am Ghinion, master of bad luck."

"I am Fo-mido, master of Terror." The four of them then received orders from both Dolo and Insaro through the mind link so as not to alert the kids. All four of them then got on their knees and held their hands out to the kids. The four remaining kids looked at the Arkums in fear, then back to Insaro and Kira. Kira got annoyed by this and was about to yell at them, but Insaro placed his hand on her head to stop her.

"We are your family now, the truth of the matter is: the humans betrayed you, if they were really your friends, they would have fought alongside you. Instead, they decided to just throw you under the bus and kill you. that's how creatures of light always are, they tear each other apart for the sake of self-preservation and superiority." the made the kids start to cry, they just experienced their friends trying to kill them and to survive they had to actually kill them. it was agonizing to know that you had to kill someone you thought was your friend in order to survive. Kira looked at Insaro confused while he just raised his hand to show her to wait just a little longer.

"The darkness however is different! With the black blood you will never be alone! help! friendship! love! It will all be yours! and thanks to the dark goddess order and security are guaranteed as well to all who have the black blood! all you have to do is say yes!" The kids then looked at each other and back to the Arkums still holding their hands out to them. Their overwhelming guilt and loneliness made them desperate, so they all started crying and ran right into the Arkums arms, who immediately started to hug them warmly. Kira sighed in relief glad it was over and activated her pentagram and used her bloody arm tentacles to give the kids their brands of the order. In an instant their eyes turned black as they started to cry bloody tears as pentagrams formed on their backs and their tentacles sprouted out.

"Hahahahaha! Everything is working out so well! All that's left now is for Virdis to report back on his mission. Hehehe then finally I will kill the Child and kill his parasite friends once and for all."

***

Virdis was a slithering black blob at first but slowly his mass started growing and after about 20 minutes his body was done regenerating. He was now running down back into the city where the Arkums and other Fallen were. He was far away from the mansion, but he wouldn't slow down. Shit! Shit! Shit! How the fuck could this have gone so bad! How the hell were those kids able to kill the pawns! What kind of weapons were those?! Who the hell was that kid?! I never saw A Zerku with wings before, and even so how were they so strong! He tore through my body like it was soft clay! Fuck! What the hell am I gonna do now?!

Virdis then stopped before he officially entered the city, should I even enter the city? If they knew I failed, they would probably kill me... no Fuck that! I'm sorry Kira but Insaro is your problem now, count me out of this bullshit. Virdis seconds from running in the opposite direction before he was frozen in place. It was like he was held there by an invisible force, the same force then suddenly pulled him into the city. He was going so fast that he couldn't even focus on what was going on or where he was even going. But then he was finally released and then he rolled on the ground until he stopped at someone's feet. Virdis looked up to see Occisor who was also looking down on him alongside several Arkum pawns and one of the Fallen from the library, most likely the one who pulled him into the city. Occisor then snapped his fingers to alert his subordinates.

"Pick him up." Then Fallen and an Arkum pawn picked up Virdis and when he stood up, they locked onto his arms to keep him from running.

"Identify yourself."

"Uh, Virdis the green shard."

"Where are the pawns assigned to you?"

"... All dead" The Arkum pawn holding Virdis's right arm tightened his grip and growled at him.

"How successful were you on your mission."

"... it failed." The Fallen who had his left arm started to hiss in anger.

"... Insaro was a fool... For entrusting you for this mission! RIP HIS ARMS OFF!" both the Fallen and the pawn smiled and did as they were told. Once his arms were off Virdis fell on the ground and started screaming in pain.

"You worthless disgrace! How dare you try to show your face after you lost all your pawns and failed your mission! Your existence is an embarrassment!"

"AAAH! FUCK YOU!"

"How dare-"

"Shut up! I don't answer to you asshole! Your just another faceless freak! Insaro is the boss here I answer to him! I did my job! The child was too strong! It's not my fault! If you care so much you should-"

"Silence! ... you answer to Insaro? Very well." Occisor's left arm then melted and under the black ooze formed black bones but instead of a hand there was a large scythe blade.

"Let's go meet him then, shall we?"

"Hey, hey! HEY! Take it easy you fucking psycho!"

"Psycho? You are mistaken, I am the master of death." Morte then stabbed Virdis in the chest with his scythe blade.

.

Story Index

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

If you like the story so far and want to read more the please support me on Wattpad.

[tacticalhimbo]

The Night the Lights Went Out (OTP: Quantum Impact) // AO3

— Antonia Perryman (Nomad) / Cole D. Walker — It was unlikely there would ever be agreement on how the issue of Junior Lieutenant Vaughan would be solved, but a rising conflict leads to a spur-of-the-moment decision being made. Unfortunately, this decision has opened a can of worms Nomad isn't sure she's ready to swallow. As for Walker? He couldn't be any more sure than he was at that moment.

WORDS: 1.3k

FANDOM(S): Ghost Recon

WARNING(S): Descriptions of Violence and Death

The shot rang out before the solider could get another word in, and the silence that followed was deafening.

It was only broken by the ragged breaths the apparent target had let slip past her lips as grey eyes darted to her companion. She watched his armed hand fall to his side, smoke still hot as it floated off the barrel of his revolver. She watched the back of his head remain steadfast, knowing his gaze was focused on the pool of crimson that sept into the floorboards by his feet. Her gut twisted.

"Walker, what… the hell did you do? He was done!"

"Well, now he's done." Walker's voice was flat. Far from reassuring.

Antonia stood straighter as he finally peeled his gaze from the dead soldier on the ground, turning his body toward her as an unfamiliar expression crossed his rugged features. She studied it, watching the way his lips threatened to curl upward. Watching how a deep scowl settled in those dark eyes of his. He looked not like a man, but an animal. A wolf, snarling over its claim and slow to ease as a realization settled into the air.

He believed had done his job. No more, no less.

"Besides," he began, stalking toward the doorway and briefly pausing before his companion "If I didn't kill that worthless pog, the whole village might have come after us."

An airy scoff left Antonia as he stepped past her, shoulders brushing as she lingered in her place. Without him there, she could see it all much more clearly. See how the younger man stared at the wall to his side, eyes wide and lifeless. A single wound was all that remained, drawing her gaze to his features. Forever horrified by what was to come. He would know no peace, not even in the afterlife (if there even was one). Her mouth struggled to call out, body turning and arm raising in an attempt to grab at the other's uniform. Yet she was unsuccessful, as Walker had already breached the doorframe and found his way out of the room.

"Hey—This isn't right, Walker!" Antonia shook her head and turned on her heel, stomping toward the door, only to stop and spare one last look to their fallen comrade. Her mind raced, breaths growing heavy as she tried to wrap herself around what to do.

Did she radio it in to base? Did she try to move him? Try to close his eyes and stop that damned stare? How would they explain this away? Could they even? Fuck, what was the court going to think of this? She's an accessory. She could have stopped it.

She could have stopped it.

Walker waited by the entrance to the building, weapon holstered and arms tucked over his chest. Much as he wanted, there was no sense in leaving her behind. They needed to get back to base together, or too many flags would raise. Explaining one disappearance was hard enough; trying to explain two, only for one member to show up screeching and hollering was in a whole other league. So when Antonia came stomping out, fire in her eyes, he was glad to see she was still coming along for the ride.

"You ready?—"

"Don't. Fuck, Walker, what the hell were you thinking? And don't give me some short answer. You know the kind of shit you've just put us in? Killing a senator's son? Shooting him execution style? How the hell do you explain that?"

"Like you do every other goddamn time we kill someone. Vaughan was being a jackass, threatening our lives, and we responded accordingly. Ain't no different than taking pot shots at whatever bastards show up on the radar."

It was Antonia's turn to scowl, lips curling as she scoffed. She was stunned. Truly stunned. She couldn't help the curt laugh that slipped out. Her head shook in disbelief, hands raising from her sides as she tried to grasp the logic.

"Really? Because from where I'm standing, it sure as hell looks different. He was done, Walker. Done." She grimaced, looking over her shoulder to the long, dark hallway. "He fired, missed, and was disarmed. You could tell the spoiled bastard realized his fuck up."

"And if he didn't?"

"Then I get shot. You act like I haven't been shot at before— … That's what this is about, isn't it?"

Walker tilted his head, brows furrowing as he tried to follow the sudden jump in tone.

"The hell you talking about, 'that's what this is about'?"

"You wouldn't have given a shit if he shot at you. Hell, you'd probably egg him on. I would've. So, what, you think I can't defend myself? Think because you dragged me out of fire once, you gotta do it every time—"

"That's different, too."

"Like hell it is!"

An uncomfortable silence followed the sudden outburst. Antonia stepped back, adding distance between the pair as she looked around the entryway. Searched for anything else to focus on as she simmered. Walker simply sunk back into his position against the wall, head turning and fixating on the crusted stucco. He shook his head, sighing as he scratched at his arm.

Damn her for knowing him so well.

He would never admit it, but she was right. The sight of her bleeding out, blindly firing ahead as he dragged her into cover haunted him. She was pale as a ghost, color draining quickly as her uniform blossomed with crimson. Her breaths were ragged; strained. There was too much fire to stop and render aid. The best he could do was set her down against the wall and cover her with his own body, leaning over her as he fired out the window. To simply watch as she looked up at him with panic in those collected eyes of hers. She was dying, and the best he could do was sit with his gun in his hands and hope she held out until it all died down. Of course that bothered him! Why the hell wouldn't it have?

And now? With that spoiled army brat having aimed right for her head? Being pissed off was the only valid reaction in his eyes. Vaughan tried to kill her, and he'd saved her.

He did his job, and nothing more.

"… Toni."

The woman's head practically snapped back to him, her expression only softening as she saw his expression falter. As she processed that he'd spoken with that softness he only shared with her. She sighed, closing her eyes and taking a breath as she finally let her defense down. Her shoulders slouched as she let out a long sigh. Wordlessly, she approached him. Closed the distance between them as her hand found his. As her hand pulled his away from his chest, coaxing his fingers to intertwine with hers as she offered a gentle squeeze.

"This is the last time, Walker. I can't keep covering your ass."

"… I know."

"So… here's the plan. We go back. You tell… whatever justification you think up on the drive back. I won't testify if they ask me to. Something about the situation fucked up me, and I'm too out there to pull something coherent. I'm due another psych eval anyway."

Her laugh was dry, shrouded by pain as it settled on her tongue. Still, it brought a small grin to the other's lips. Encouraged him to squeeze her hand and slowly guide it closer. She followed, setting her free hand on his shoulder before withdrawing entirely.

"Want me to drive?"

"Please…" Antonia nodded once more. "Need some time to just… think this through."

"Sure."

The pair left without another word. Spent the long ride back to base in silence, opting to let the chilled desert air seep in through the windows and fill the space between them.

[vegetarian-macan]

The way you are literally braver than any us marine for playing the detective route for Nomad, thank you for your service fr 😭

SLKCKAOFJABHDJSHCJAJFBJDJ

Thank you uwu I'm in hell also nomad kinda 🥰🥺😳🥳 this event ahaha (twirls hair) wowie hand in marriage sir 😳💅👀💞💍

[niqhtlord01]

Well howdy holy shit we’re still alive! 

Honestly it’s a bit surprising we’ve lasted this long in a world that’s either on fire, in the grips of a deadly plague, or about to be over run by giant murder hornets! 

Safe to say we need a break from all this violence and madness, by watching our favorite characters commit violence and go mad in another round of ROOSTHER TEETH CHAMPIONSHIP!!!!

Julian: *Hologram appears* Felix: Lieutenant Dan! You ain’t got no legs no more! Julian: Seriously? Felix: *Draws knife and gun* Couldn’t resist; it cracks me up every time.   ------------------------------------------  

Tucker: *Draws energy sword*  Jaune: So your weapon is just a sword?  Tucker: Hey! Don’t go talking shit about swords! Jaune: *Merges sword and shield to make claymore* I would never. ----------------------------------------------

Roman: *Walks in, throws cigar on the ground and stomps on it*  US: Awe, is the minor villain getting upset over their death? Roman: Remind me again, how many seasons you were in? Oh right, you barely lasted an episode. US: *Flips coin, turns to nano tech* Come here you clockwork orange rip off. 

----------------------------------------------

Cinder: *Levitates in on fire* Nemesis: Kill the copy. Cinder: I’m no ones copy. Nemesis: *Nano tech cloud flickers* You steal powers of others. Y-y-you use their p-power. You ar-ar-are a copy. KILL THE COPY! ----------------------------------------------

Nomad: *Walks in with wind blowing poncho* Sun: So if I punch you, will I get magic powers and wishes? Nomad: *Thinks for moment, shrugs*  Sun: *Extends staff* For my first wish I think I’ll make you crack a smile. ---------------------------------------------

Church: *Hologram appears*  Rufus: Computer disable hologram, I’m too busy for this nonsense.  Church: I’m sorry but I couldn’t hear that; could you try speaking without my fucking fist shoved down your god damn mouth!? Rufus: *Caliban activates and stands up* A violent hologram? Gods I can hear the 90′s calling all over again. --------------------------------------------

Toth: *Sheathes blade*  Locus: Do you fight for glory?  Toth: I fight for something much larger than petty glory.  Locus: *Activates stealth* Right answer.  -------------------------------------------

Blake: *Swings in* Grif: So If I gave you catnip is that like giving a minor drugs?  Blake: I don’t know if I should be more surprised or angry right now.  Grif: *Hefts bruteshot* If I put your catnip freak out up on youtube maybe I could make some of that sweet furry money; those sick fucks are always loaded. ------------------------------------------

Ironwood: *Walks in loading pistol* Caboose: Did you get your hand stuck in a vending machine too?  Ironwood: ....... Caboose: *Draws freckles* That’s okay, I really wanted those skittles too.  -----------------------------------------

Penny: *Super hero landing* Don: Well you’re no nomad, but one magical person is as good as another. Penny: Oh I’m not magic, I’m a product of science!  Don: *Draws sword* Science, magic, whatever; you are my meal ticket out of this hell hole! -----------------------------------------

Ruby: *Twirls scythe* Dr. Grey: I hear you have a nice set of silver eyes.  Ruby: Are you hear to take them as well? Dr. Grey: *Pulls out scalpel* In a manner of speaking.  -----------------------------------------

 Salem: *Grim part to allow her through* Valentina: So are you into kinky things or do you normally dress like that? Salem: I am a goddess of this world and you shall bow before me.  Valentina: *activates cloak* Kinky it is then. 

[testingcheats0n]

Wilbur hiding the truth from Phil makes so much sense in retrospective. We don't know what was their relationship like before Phil killed him, but judging from how he is in general we can establish that:

1. Phil is dismissive of others' feelings, whether intentional or not it doesn't matter. I would go as far as say that he was negligent and absent for reasons I'll explain next.

2. He is preachy and is not willing to accept anything other than his own view of the world.

3. Immortality comes with trauma, trauma + trusting, vulnerable children do not mix and I doubt he got much help while rising Wilbur.

4. His loyalties are divided between his family and Technoblade, concerning the ideological differences. Not to mention that he's never managed to "teach the lesson" of people over objects to Wilbur to his complete satisfaction since L'manburg is a thing. If Philza had come to the server anytime sooner than that specific moment when Wilbur was in the button room, he would have taken Technoblade's side, for reasons I'll explain soon.

5. Death/or whomever is Wilbur's mother was, clearly wasn't in his life. She might as well be dead which creates a giant big old trauma- especially if Phil still talked about her and regularly communicated with her. It gives the impression that she cares enough about Phil to maintain a relationship, but not about Wilbur.

6. Where was Wilbur raised? I would accept Phil's Hardcore world as an explanation. But that doesn't paint a good picture of the home life if he's willing to put his son in mortal danger in various different ways. Another perfectly valid option is a nomadic lifestyle, which would leave Wilbur isolated without meaningful connections. I can't think of any other alternative if we are based only on canon.

7. He clearly doesn't know Wilbur as well as he thinks he does, judging by his denial over the letters, the fact that he doesn't understand Wilbur's cause, and that he didn't catch the lies in the first place(?) I believe that Wilbur bent the truth in ways that specifically cater to Phil's views, like leaving L'manburg after the job was done (that's certainly how nomadic, righteous, "L'manburg is only a place" Phil might have gone about things.). Wilbur was saying what was expected of him, probably because he wasn't in the mood for a sermon during wartime or because Phil might have come in person to wreck his shit and make things "right/teach a lesson" for his poor, clueless son.

8. It is very possible that Wilbur craves validation. Considering Phil and Technoblade's militaristic views, pacifist artist Wilbur might have been a mild disappointment to his father (Phil indulges Ghostbur with his music, but in retrospective I believe it's very tied to the whole "he's a doll" thing and... yikes). L'manburg could have been a product of the "I have to prove that I'm worthy" idea, thus the letters in the first place, considering it's quite possible that they didn't communicate that often before the dsmp. It might be a way to demonstrate how great deeds can still be accomplished without the need of violence. This might explain why he was reluctant to invite Technoblade at first, and then Wilbur was more preoccupied with his mental illness than the initial idea.

9. Phil's easy dismissal of Ghostbur is a symptom of his, perhaps quite superficial, attachment to Wilbur. He has a certain image of him he's willing to accept and everything else is a cheap imitation he's willing to burry. Don't misunderstand me, he loves his son, but considering he's an immortal who in his own words has seen thousands of loved ones die, Wilbur might be the latest iteration of a series of dead sons. What I'm saying is that he's thought "I can make another one" at least once.

10. Philza minecraft is heroic. He teaches lessons, he gives speeches, he rescues children, he kills terrorists and he destroys governments. Perhaps, in this aspect, his relationships are put in the backburn as do facts and the benefit of the doubt.

11. Philza is infantilizing. He is the compass rose, he knows best because he's been around for the longest. This is where he and Foolish clash the hardest, because Foolish is all about learning from others. The infantilization leads to controlling behavior though it's not as obvious as it looks, thus "Tommy put the rapple on the floor and burn it". It makes me think that either Dream is A. Older than he tells us he is, or B. He is copying DreamXD.

12. Legacy is meaningless to him. If Wilbur is Ozymandias, then Phil is P. B. Shelly. Places, grandchildren, people and memories are all meaningless to him if he hasn't been there to experience them in the first place. He's detached himself from the past and can only move forward. It's biting him in the ass currently, if you haven't noticed.

13. His lack of meaningful relationships with agemates and people like him lead to overattachment to anyone remotely perceived to be like him, which explains "for you, the world Technoblade" (he didn't say it but you get me Xd). I do believe it's unhealthy, and depending on whether Death was responsible for his immortality or not so is their entire marriage. Speaking off, fans should be ready to face the possibility of their marriage being an open one if Wilbur's mother is not Death (or Philza being a cheater, so put that in your pipe and smoke it).

13.2. His unwillingness to accept anything else but his ideology, plus his reliance on Technoblade for validation lead to the prison. His agreement with Technoblade's actions and the need to help people because he knew them let him endanger everybody else, because these 'other people' Dream's actions will and have harmed don't matter, see point 12. Which in turn makes him look completely unhinged when he tries to help Tommy due to his savior complex, see point 10.

14. Wilbur, is understandably, distant. All his life he's probably been told that he can't make sensible decisions on his own, despite being a grown man. He had probably grown to believe that there is some inherent flaw in him (people who don't agree with Phil are evil- do you see where I'm going with this?- still not the only factor, considering mental illness- which could have gone unaddressed for a long long time considering Phil thinks people 'just get over it'- but I'm not putting all the blame on him), either for not agreeing with Phil's ideology, not being good at fighting or the mess with his mother. He probably felt like he had a lot of expectations placed on his shoulders, and he probably felt the pressure to be a good son according to his father's standards (Phil is famous and powerful so Wilbur might have felt lacking in that regard)

In conclusion, if I were in Wilbur's position I would lie like there's no tomorrow too.

[periculum-dulce]

Actually, thinking about it- I remember awhile back a picture of Vannika on a ranch? In regards to your recent post of some of Vannika's heirlooms, was her family original V15 dwellers turned Jackals that moved with the rest to Nevada? Or did she join the gang much later in her life?

Originally I had it so her family had been in the US since before the Great War, but I updated her family backstory a little after my friend Bryce made his Fallout Alaska universe!

The short answer is she ran away from home as a young girl and was taken in by a member of the Jackal Gang.

More details on her backstory and family history are below the cut because it's looooooong:

- Her family are ethnically Ural Cossacks who lived in Yekaterinburg, Russia until fleeing to Nome, Alaska with a large group of immigrants seeking to escape impending war and political disaster in the homeland. Her parents, Susana and Afanasy, were still young when they left Russia, maybe middle school age or so

- After living in the newly created refuge in Nome (which would later go on to become the main base of the neo-tsarist Dead Hand group) her parents, now young adults, fell in love and decided to elope. They joined a caravan heading South via Canada. Susana's parents had already passed from illness, but Afanasy left behind a family; his parents and his brother, Mikhail.

- Susana and Afanasy choose to settle down in Northern Nevada, co-owning a ranch with the local Proctor family.

- Susana and Afanasy were not particularly good parents. They were disappointed when Vannika was born a girl, and often chastized her for crying or showing her emotions, saying it was a show of girlish weakness. They planned to have her marry Isaiah, the son of the Proctor family, once she was older so that he could run their butchery business for them.

- One day a young Vannika and Isaiah get into an argument, and Vannika pushes him, leading him to stumble and fall to his death off the edge of a ravine. Horrified at the consequences she might face, Vannika runs away into the Mojave Desert

- She is eventually found and taken in by a man named Axel, a high-ranking member of the Jackal Gang with a habit of taking in stray/orphaned kids. He forges Vannika into a full Jackal over the years, and despite the horrors and violence of the lifestyle, Vannika loves every moment of it. She considers Axel more of a father than Afanasy ever was, as Axel is far kinder and more supportive towards her.

- As the NCR keeps pushing East, the Jackals are slowly culled, and they eventually abandon their homebase and split into small nomadic groups.

- ~3 months before the game starts, Vannika and a group of other Jackals hatch a plan to poison the Nipton town water supply in order to wipe out all of the visiting NCR soldiers. However, they're caught by an NCR troop and used as bait to draw out Axel, as he had a very hefty bounty on his head that they wanted to collect on.

- Axel walks into the trap to rescue Vannika, but is killed in the process. Vannika barely manages to escape, and feels immense guilt and rage over her surrogate father's death.

- Vannika comes across a package courier one night and kills her for her valuables (said courier later turns out to have been an old acquaintance but I'll save that plot line for a different post)

- Seeing a note about a hefty reward for delivering this package to the Strip, Vannika dons the dead courier's clothes as a disguise in an attempt to cash in on the delivery so she can use the caps to leave the Mojave for good

- Benny assumes Vannika is the real courier and shoots her for the package. Vannika claws her way out of her own grave, losing consciousness just as Victor finds her.

- Vannika wakes up in Doc Mitchell's office with complete amnesia. Fallout New Vegas main plot begins.

[jiminstonic]

Apothic | pjm

pairing: yandere!zombie!jimin + g/n reader

word count: 6.1k+

genre: thriller, fluff(?), mild angst

warnings: GORE, violence, puking, obsessive thoughts, death, zombie cannibalism, is it necrophilia when it’s a zombie?? (sorry if i forgot anything)

— synopsis: Ever since the apocalypse hit, it’s been kill or be killed. So, what are you to do when a ghoul would kill for you instead of kill you?

Fuck, no more canned ravioli. Chef Boyardee will be dearly missed.

You crack a smile at your own thoughts while scanning the supermarket aisle, a flickering fluorescent overhead. Dirt and various food wrappers litter the tiled floor that you tiptoe on with sock-covered feet, shoes in hand in order to make as little sound as possible. You’ve yet to see a ghoul in this supermarket, but better to be safe than sorry.

With every item you stuff in your bag, a small sigh of relief passes through your lips. Going nomad helps a lot with your need to be alone, but also comes with many cons. Sitting at the very top of the list is being cautious. If ambushed by a group of ghouls, you must find a way out all on your own. It’s a risk you’re willing to take. But you’re not stupid enough to be noisy, whether you’re really alone or not.

Maybe you’ll get a box of cereal this time. You just hope it won’t make too much noise while in your bag.

You make the round of a few more aisles, grabbing a new toothbrush and a few pens. Some rash cream too maybe, just in case. You start to mindlessly grab items that you might need until you end up in the candy aisle.

Gummy bears. It’s the first thing to grab your attention, better with the nearly vacant shelves, and you refuse to leave without it.

Carefully, you pinch the corner of the bag, gently pulling it from the rack it hangs on. It’s a slow process, and you’re on the verge of regretting it as a scraping starts to sound when you continue to tug. Finally, the rack comes to an end and the bag slips off with no more than a split second of a crinkle. That’s when you decide that you have enough for today’s supply, not wanting to risk much more than that. With a swift spin, you turn to head out, one socked-up foot in front of the other when you’re stopped dead in your tracks.

Right at the other end of the aisle, stands a ghoul. It’s as still as a statue, save for the twitch in its fingers.

The sight makes your heart drop and the bag of gummy bears slip from your grasp. The sound that emits when it hits the floor makes the ghoul jump, oddly enough, but it still doesn’t make a single move. It just stands there, watching you.

That’s when you finally snap out of it, stumbling backward and running as fast as you can to the back exit. Even with the machete strapped to your side, you like to avoid having to kill them because, once again, noise. It’s always noise. The same thing that caused a headache for you once upon a time, but is now sometimes caused by the lack thereof.

You can’t care enough to try slipping on your shoes, too busy running for your life down the road. Rocks jab at the bottom of your feet, but you can only tighten your jaw and force yourself to bear it. A bite hurts a lot worse, you remind yourself.

The entire road is bare, same as when you came and is the reason why you even went into the supermarket. No ghouls around. ‘Clear skies’, as you like to call it. So, why was it just that one ghoul there? And how did you not notice it before?

Your pants come out in a near wheeze as you push yourself through the heavy door. Once it’s shut behind you, you fall back onto it and slide down to the floor. The thick air of the high school locker room suddenly doesn’t seem so bad when you’re gasping for breath.

With one last deep breath, you push yourself up with a huff. You sling the bag from off of your shoulder and let it drop to the ground, not very worried about its contents. With a tug on the strap around your torso, the velcro pulls apart and you place it on a metal table sticking from the brick wall, the machete only making a small thud.

Your mattress is in the deeper corner of the locker room with the rest of your stuff. The lockers in that spot hold more than you should probably keep, but you’re not very worried about anyone raiding the place. As far as you know, this town is abandoned.

Your feet drag across the tile as you make your way toward the showers, flicking on every one of the battery operated fans as you pass by. You don’t know how or why, but there’s still running water coming into the locker room. You’ve always tried not to question it, afraid of jinxing it just for the water not to work anymore. And you’re worried for when winter comes, since the water can only run cold. But you’re grateful for it. There’s no way you can’t be.

Usually, you’d pick a cd out of your stash to put into the battery operated player, but you don’t want to waste any time in washing off the sweat that sticks to your skin. With your clothes thrown to the floor at your feet, you turn the nozzle and immediately feel the cool water rush against your skin. You’re quick to grab the bar of soap, one of the many you’ve made sure to collect, and rub it against your skin.

You wake up randomly, not bothering to sit up and separate yourself from the warmth of the blanket, even if it is just a fireproof blanket. But the grumble of your stomach forces you to change your mind. Eating something before crashing on the mattress would’ve been a smart decision.

With a kick, you fling the blanket from your body, setting your feet onto the floor. As you stand, the faint breeze from the fans hit you, waking you further. You rummage through the lockers containing food, not being able to see much of anything—it’s still dark out. The moon is high in the inky sky, a tell-tale sign of the night’s peak. It casts its glowing rays through the high windows to beam down in sections on the tile.

Your hand finds a pack of crackers that you settle for; it’s only a late night snack anyways. Shutting the locker door, you practically jump out of your skin at seeing the dark figure that stands there. A shriek escapes you, feeling your heart drop far into your chest as you drop the crackers in favor of clumsily shuffling backward into the corner of the lockers. You can’t afford to take your eyes off of the figure if they’re here to hurt you, take everything you have left.

You can’t even see their face yet, the moonlight only illuminating their torso. Looking at what you’re able to actually see, you notice that they’re holding a bag, quickly recognizing the gummy bear logo. Your brow shoots up in question.

It isn’t until you shift your eyes back to their shadowed face that you realize they’re getting closer, the moonlight racing up their body. You push yourself further into the lockers pressed against your back, not thinking it was even possible to be any closer. Your breaths come out quicker, nostrils flaring as you begin to panic with every step the stranger makes toward you. Looking past them, you catch sight of your machete that sits on the table, useless on the other side of the room.

Maybe you can side step them, make a narrow escape and grab the weapon, impaling them with it before they can blink twice.

But that plan bursts into flames as you feel their presence just inches from you. They’re eerily quiet, not even the sound of breathing could be heard from them, only you. You slowly look at their face, the moonlight finally bringing it to light, and you panic further upon the sight.

They’re a ghoul. The ghoul. It’s the same one that you ran from earlier today in the store. It’s pale and delicate face, devoid of life and showcasing veins here and there, is surprisingly unscathed. It-...he must’ve been a gorgeous man when he was alive. His blue-ish violet lips stand out the most, especially with the dried blood that stains them. His eyes are the most unique you’ve seen for a ghoul. Usually, a ghoul’s irises were clouded over in a deathly white mist, but he only has one eye like that. The other is perfectly normal, it’s deep brown holding a single sparkle from the light. It’s captivating, to say the least.

Not once has his eyes drifted from you, and it’s starting to make you worry even more. You can already feel the sting of an impending bite everywhere he looked on your skin. It was torture, and he kept getting closer and closer, making you shut your eyes in fearful expectation. Yet, a bite never came. He didn’t fiercely tear away at your flesh with his teeth, making you his late night snack just as you were fearing. Quite the contrary, in fact.

Instead of a painful bite, you felt cold skin pressed against your chest. It has you feeling your own rapid heartbeat against your rib cage. Slowly, you open your eyes to look down, only to see him leaning his forehead against your chest. You’re beyond confused, but you don’t push him away in fear that it may trigger him to actually kill you. And so, you stay impossibly still as he has his...moment?

You watch as he slowly moves his head, the tip of his nose brushing against your skin until you feel his slightly parted lips do the same. He stays there with the tip of his nose and lips lightly touching you, right over your pounding heart. You have no idea what he might be thinking—if he can think. If there’s more to ghouls than what people know, then you are just as clueless.

Suddenly, you feel—as well as hear—him take a deep inhale. It makes you clench your fists that are pressed against the lockers since you’re still too afraid to squirm away from him. His exhale comes out as a small, soft whine, almost as if he were in pain, but still content. You’ve never heard anything so smooth and airy come from a ghoul before, most of them wasting what’s left of their voice boxes by incoherently yelling. He presses his free hand rather harshly against the locker next to your side, emitting a bang that has you flinching. With the same arm, he pushes himself upright to meet your eyes. Once again, he lets out a soft hum while you keep eye contact, and if he were still alive, you would’ve melted at the sweet sound.

It’s not until you feel a nudge at your hip that you look down, seeing him pushing the bag of gummy bears toward you. Hesitant, you glance back up at him, gauging his intentions only to be met with the same stare. He was waiting, wanting you to take it. So you did. With a shaking hand, you take the bag from him, and his arm immediately falls limp at his side as if he were carrying a large weight this entire time.

As he steps back, you take the only chance you have and run past him while dropping the bag, the machete being your only priority. You grab it, spinning around with it already raised high in the air and pointing at the ghoul, ready to bring it down into his chest. But you stop halfway, the sight in front of you completely catching you off guard. His eyes are wide, scared even, hands held in front of him to shield himself from your attack. They shake with the effort he puts into holding them up, and you slowly start to break at the dawning realization. Your grip on the weapon’s handle immediately disappears, the blade dropping to the floor with a resounding clang.

“What am I even doing?” You whisper, appalled by the aggression you didn’t think twice about. That’s not like you, it never was like you. Even if the one standing in front of you is a being that can rip your flesh and devour your organs in an instant, you were still disgusted with yourself.

Sure, his actions were confusing and you’ve never seen a ghoul act so...human. But that definitely doesn’t mean you should put a blade in his skull without a second thought, all because he confused you.

On the other hand, you’ve lived with the apocalypse for half of your lifetime, only ever knowing to kill or be killed. There weren’t many times you had to kill a ghoul, but when you did, there was never the satisfaction that others talked about after taking one down. You never felt victorious or powerful. Only guilty and despondent. Even if it was their fate, a fate that could’ve never been reversed.

So you stand there, tears blurring your vision as you’re unable to meet the eyes of the ghoul in front of you. All of your thoughts are like knives spearing your heart, and you’re unable to focus on anything else around you. Shutting your eyes, the tears flow freely as a sob erupts from you. Maybe this has been building up for weeks, months even. Leaving your makeshift family to go nomad, adjusting to being on your own, jumping from place to place, and never knowing where is truly safe. It was all piled up stress, and this was the peak of it, your breaking point.

Lost in those thoughts, the sudden feel of lips on your cheek make you still and blink until your vision was no longer blurred. He was kissing your tears. You can feel how the ghoul’s lips were pressed ever so gently on the salty trail, and it only made you feel worse to know that he was trying to comfort you only seconds after you tried to end his afterlife.

“I’m so sorry... I don’t deserve that...” Placing your hands against the ghoul’s cold chest, you softly push him away and make a beeline for the mattress. You were no longer worried about the possibility of him eating you alive—he would’ve done that already. He would’ve done it instead of giving you the gummy bears you had wanted today, instead of kissing your tears away. What a complex, lovely ghoul.

You curl yourself into a ball once wrapped up in the blanket and lay with your back towards him, not yet having the heart to face him any longer.

As for the ghoul, he never thought he could once again feel his motionless heart constrict so much. The sight of your tears made an indescribable feeling dwell within him.

He sits on the ground, leaning back against the lockers as he watches your balled up form. Oh, how he wants to hold you right now, feel you in his arms, even if they are still weak.

When he stumbled upon you today, he knew he had to have you. You were glowing under the flickering fluorescents and he swore he felt butterflies. But he was a coward, standing there as you sped off in fear, slipping through his fingers. For that split second, he had forgotten what he really is. How foolish.

He doesn’t remember what exactly happened to him; all he knows is that he slowly turned into what he is now. He can’t quite recall his own name, although he knows for a fact that it starts with a J. He also knows for a fact that he is /not/ like all of the other ghouls. Yet, they all limp alongside him as if they see nothing wrong, because they can’t. He’s positive that maggots have eaten half of their brains already with the way they have no communication whatsoever, or sense of direction and coordination. Unless they’re after food, then it’s a one-track mind.

And he can’t lie, he’s done his fair share of flesh chewing, but he’s only ever felt as if he was going through the motions. It wasn’t as important to him as it was to the rest of the walking dead. He’s never tried talking, so he must’ve lost his voice from never using it, which explains why he had such a hard time speaking to you. That, and his body that never really decomposed, leaving him on the fence of death. He had tried so hard to tell you something, anything, but it just didn’t work out in his favor.

You also smell amazing. Your lingering scent was what led him to you, after all. If it wasn’t for the way you caught his attention, he might’ve taken a few bites of you. No doubt the urge is still there, but he doesn’t want to hurt you. He could never.

He can still feel the vibrations of your heartbeat, it’s calming sound that put him at ease. His lips still tingle with the warmth of your skin. Sure, it was a bold move on his part, but he doesn’t regret it one bit. He’d do it over and over again. Even if you ended up nearly bashing his head in for a second time.

His mind was running wild with the visions of you, your warmth that is so close now, yet still so far away. But his serenity was interrupted as a bang resounded. His head snapped in the direction it came from, sadly taking his eyes off of your now sleeping form. You must’ve cried yourself to sleep, he muses, wishing you would’ve used his shoulder to let out your pain.

He’s met with the darkness of the rest of the locker room, silence returning, but he can’t take any chances. Shakily, he pushes himself up, trying to take on a protective stance and shielding you with his body, but ultimately failing when his spine slacks under his own weight. The damn zombie body, he internally curses.

With dragging feet, he makes his way around the corner, only to be met with the silhouette of a ghoul standing in the doorway that he broke off himself in order to get to you. He must’ve been so consumed with tracking you down that he missed any sign of other ghouls around. Oh, how distracting you are to him.

It was obvious that the other can smell you, trying to make its way toward where you sleep while foolishly ignoring him. Without hesitation, he snarls, lunging at the intruding ghoul. There’s no way he’s letting it get anywhere near you. Not without ripping it to unidentifiable pieces, anyways. The anger quickly boiling up within gives him the strength to knock down the ghoul, letting the thought of you push him further, far beyond self-control.

You woke up slower than usual, the weight of the night before still heavy on your chest. He was on your mind right when your eyes opened to the morning light beaming into the locker room. Your dreams were even plagued with him—dreams that are rather compromising to have with a ghoul. You aren’t even sure if you really want to remember it. And it’s sad to say, but you didn’t feel so lonely.

Looking over to the lockers, you find the spot empty of his presence, making you jump up from the mattress. He couldn’t have just up and left, not after last night.

You nearly laugh at your own thoughts. Who are you to act that way toward a ghoul? It isn’t as if you slept with him. Not in reality, anyways; his little moment last night must’ve really gotten to you. It all makes your brow furrow, not understanding your own mind and feelings.

You walk around the corner of the lockers, picking up a foul stench that makes you immediately cover your nose and mouth. Whatever it could be, you know it isn’t good. But nothing could’ve prepared you for what you were met with at the door.

There you found him, sitting on the floor with his back turned to you, hunched over a mutilated body. Not any human body, but another ghoul, or what once was. Its head, torn off at the shoulders, lays a foot away from its body, unfortunately facing you. Its foggy eyes wide and seemingly staring into your soul. Its jaw is hanging by a thread, pulled apart with the stretched flesh hanging like strings. Whether it was always that way or not, you’d rather not know.

Both arms were ripped from its torso, one of them laying in tact, the other in pieces at each joint. Discolored blood is smeared on the floor, most likely from the gaping hole in the torso.

You try to suppress a gag—because of both the smell and sight—but it was futile. The sound alerts the other to your presence, making his head snap toward you. The same discolored blood from the floor is slathered on and around his mouth, dripping down his neck and staining his already dirty clothes. Something must’ve snapped him out of whatever mindset he was stuck in because upon seeing you standing there, visibly appalled, made his stomach churn. He pukes it all up right there, the disgusting taste of zombie organs finally registering with him.

You quickly look away, fighting off gags with your forearm pressed against your mouth. Never have you witnessed something like this. A ghoul eating another ghoul was just unheard of. It didn’t seem logical with what a ghoul’s diet really consists of: humans. He puked it all up as well, begging the question of whether he really wanted to or not. It would seem that way with how you walked up on him taking bites from the other’s intestines, but with him, you have to question everything you know.

Glancing back, you find him trying to wipe off the remnants of the other ghoul. He was struggling, even looked a little confused. So, you couldn’t help what you were about to do.

“Come on,” walking up to him, you hold your hand out toward him, “come with me.”

The look he gives you could’ve shattered your heart, his wide puppy-like eyes staring up at you coupled with the blood smeared on his face shouldn’t make you feel that way. It should make you feel disgusted, yet you only feel that way toward the mess and stench.

With a shaking, bloody hand, he takes yours, letting you lead him to wherever you were going. He wasn’t very focused on that, though. No, the sight of your hand grasping his is far too enthralling. The fact that you initiated it makes it feel even better.

Once at the showers, you pull him into the stall, making him stand just far enough to not be under the shower head. Letting go of his hand—much to his dismay—you reach past him and turn the nozzle, the sound of water smacking against the tiles echoing. You quickly take the opportunity to hold your hand under the water, washing off the blood that transferred onto your palm. You both watch as the dark substance flows on the floor and down the drain, getting stuck in creases along the way. He mimics your actions, surprising you when he skips waiting for the blood to wash off, immediately going to caress the lines of your palm.

“Why did you do it?”

Your voice is gentle to his ears, much like a soft caress. He did it for you. It was all for you. He would’ve killed anyone who walked through that door, not just a ghoul who wanted you for food. He could see no reason for anyone else to be in there anyways. He was protecting you. There’s no way he’d let anyone or anything touch you, not even come near you. He’d make sure of it even after you’re only his to keep. But he couldn’t tell you that. Not yet.

As for eating the other ghoul—that wasn’t planned. It was almost as if he blacked out. He can remember smelling you as he was ripping the limbs from the ghoul. It was too much to handle, so he bit into the ghouls thin, decaying flesh in an attempt to alleviate the hunger he felt for you.

He didn’t have the courage to confess it all to you, he didn’t want to scare you off. So, he ignored the question in favor of bringing your hand up to rest against his cheek.

“Please...”

His voice is unexpected, making you freeze completely and stare at him in shock. His eyes sparkle, staring at you pleadingly while you still try to comprehend the fact that he talked to you. There was a break in his voice that pulled at your heart, so you can’t stop yourself when you swipe your thumb across his cheek. His eyes flutter in bliss as you begin to wash the blood from his skin. The dark blood is like a waterfall on his skin, a contrast to his translucent and paling skin.

Your heart starts to beat faster as your fingers inch closer to his lips, yet they still dance across the bottom one ever so gently. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss your fingertips upon feeling them, gliding his hands up your arm to hold your wrist in place. You didn’t expect the first kiss, and you definitely don’t expect when he continues to kiss different spots on your hand. It’s almost as if he’s lost in what he’s doing, his eyes shut as he concentrates on pressing his lips to your skin over and over again. You can feel the heat that rises to the tips of your ears while you watch him.

But the moment is short lived when you gently push him back, leaving him standing under the water. Hurt flashes across his features, a look that you force yourself to ignore.

“I’ll, uh, leave you to wash up properly,” you’re unable to make eye contact with him, but you still hold your tingling hand to your chest. “...and I’ll get you my mouthwash. Must still have a bad taste in your mouth.”

He can only nod in agreement and watch you walk off, never sparing him a glance. His heart hurts, but swells simultaneously at you caring for him. You’re right, there’s still a bad taste in his mouth. And he highly doubts that you would’ve wanted his nasty throw up mouth on you. How inconsiderate of him, he scolds himself.

You do exactly as you told him you would, opening up your bag and grabbing the travel bottle of mouthwash. But you’re so caught up in your thoughts that you’re basically on autopilot. You’re well aware of your heart still going haywire in your chest. It’s a little embarrassing, a ghoul making you feel this way. Maybe if you could just get past that stigma...

No way. There’s no way you’re seriously contemplating being with a ghoul. But it’s so tempting when he’s so sweet to you, practically worshiping your body every chance he gets. It’s supposed to creep you out, scare you—you know that. Still, your thoughts are filled with what it might feel like to let yourself go to him. You just don’t think you could handle it if he went all ghoul-cannibal again.

Those thoughts come to a halt once you walk up to his stall. His bare back is turned to you, littered with dark veins that demand to be seen through his deathly skin. The dried blood in his light hair washes away as he holds his head under the water. He didn’t bother taking his pants off, something you’re not sure if you’re actually thankful for.

Stuck staring, you notice the marks on the back of his right bicep. A bite. The teeth marks are messy, but left visible holes in his skin nonetheless. That must be how he turned, you think, must be why the rest of his skin is barren of gashes and punctures. Black veins branch out from the old wound, leaving the surrounding skin dark. Though it makes you wonder...did he die alone? That possibility makes your heart fall.

“Hey...”

His voice pulls you from your melancholic reverie. It still surprises you, his small voice. It doesn’t waver this time though, most likely getting used to using his vocal chords. He’s turned to face you now, chest and stomach accentuating his lean stature. You force yourself to hand him the mouthwash before you get too lost while looking at him again.

“Hey. Here you go.”

He takes the bottle from you, trying to pull the cap off, ultimately cracking it. Bringing the rim up to his lips, he takes a swig, surprisingly not struggling to keep it all in his mouth as he swishes it around. He makes brief eye contact with you as he spits it out—well, more like letting it spill from his mouth, the minty liquid dripping from his bottom lip to flow into the drain. Eyes meeting once again, he stares at you with an almost menacing look while sloppily wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The sight sends a shiver through you, not knowing if it’s from fear or excitement.

Still full of surprises, he drops both the bottle and cap, letting them bounce on the tile as he reaches for you. Panic shoots through you when he grasps your hips, pulling you into him and under the flow of water. Maybe this was his breaking point. Maybe he was finally going to kill you—eat you.

But he only wraps his arms around you, securing you in a tight embrace. His face fits perfectly in the crook of your neck, a fact that leaves him as elated as feeling you against his cold skin. He can hear the breaths you take right next to his ear, a sound that comes second to your heartbeat—his favorite. The pounding muscle, especially when it speeds up, sparks excitement within him. He can just imagine the rapid beating doubled with your quick breaths, how you would say his name...

Wait. His name.

In that split second, he remembers it perfectly. All it took was the thought of you. It’s always you. You are his complete motivation; he would do anything for you. Anything at all.

“Jimin...” He huffs out into your shoulder, still having a hard time getting any words out since he already doesn’t breathe. It’s the moment you realize that he’s just a human stuck in a ghoul’s body.

By now you can’t help but ghost your hands over his arms, your fingertips going against the water droplets gliding along his skin. You’re both soaked, but it’s the least of your worries when he speaks the single name to you.

“That’s your name...isn’t it?” You can feel him nod in affirmation, his cheek brushing against your shoulder almost in a shy manner. However, his brazen actions paint him as anything but shy.

“Mine’s ____,” you whisper directly into his ear, oblivious to the true effect it has on him. Your name is something that he will commit to the little memory he still has. He’ll chant it over and over again if that’s what it takes to never forget your name. Lifting his head up, he locks eyes with you. His hair, drenched with water dripping from the ends, almost covers his contrasting orbs. You feel his arms tighten around you with his next words.

“____...”—making your breath hitch—“say it...” You stare at him in confusion, not quite sure what he means. “Say my name.”

His once soft tone is suddenly demanding, throwing you off, but reeling you in all at once. You’re captivated, completely and utterly captivated by him.

“Jimin.”

And he doesn’t waste a second in connecting your lips, his hand holding you in place on the side of your neck. It surprises you, but you’re quick to melt into his lips. His grip borders on tight, and you’d be worried if you weren’t so focused on how his lips feel. Soft and plush against your own in a delicious dance. And now, you didn’t have to wonder anymore with his lips latched to yours.

Jimin turns you until your back is pushed against the stall, all while you feel his tongue peek out to graze your bottom lip. The action has you letting out a small gasp and he takes the chance to push his tongue into your mouth, leaving you even more breathless when you feel it glide against your own. You can feel his hand massaging and gripping your waist, in turn making you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. With his body pressed against your own and his tongue feeling like heaven, your mind turns to mush. You’re putty in his icy hands.

Jimin detaches from your lips and you finally take a breath of air. His kisses move further down your neck, his tongue swirling on your skin with every few press of his addicting lips. You’re practically seeing stars already, eyes drooping in bliss. With him so close to your ear, you can hear each and every hum from him that has warmth spreading throughout your body. As his lips travel higher on your neck, you lean your head back, baring your throat to him. Jimin’s practically ravaging your skin, his kisses getting fervent, making you sigh as you card your fingers through his drenched hair.

And then suddenly, with his mouth opening wider, a searing pain sparks on your neck. Your eyes shoot open to be greeted with the molded ceiling that has you crashing back to reality. A pained sound escapes your open mouth as the realization dawns on you. Jimin is biting your neck. You can feel each and every puncture of his teeth into your skin, and he only bites down harder when you try to move. With all of the strength you can muster, you push him away harshly, finally getting him to stop sinking his teeth into you.

With foggy vision, you watch as he stumbles back, hitting the stall behind him. Your blood coats his lips and stain his teeth, and you can see it on his tongue when he licks his lips. All sound fades until there’s just a constant ringing.

Clutching your neck, you can feel the thick and slimy liquid that coats your skin. Even though you already know what it is, you can’t help but look at your shaking palm, caked and dripping with your own blood. Looking back up, you find Jimin nearing you once again. Hastily, you move backward until you’re cornered like you were before with your back against the stall. He gets closer and closer, watching you carefully, especially the blood that gushes from your neck. You sob when he brings a hand up to caress your cheek, not letting you jerk away.

“Beautiful...perfect...” And he means it. The thick red dripping along your body is a divine sight. He hates that you have to hurt for this to happen, and he’d be furious if it were anyone else that had done it, but it needed to be done. How else were you going to stay with him? Surely not as a human. Of course, he loved the beating of your heart and the warmth that you held, but he knew it would get in the way of making you his. This was inevitable.

His bite will stay there long after you’ve become undead, a fact that had him even more excited. His mark on your skin would be visible forever, a constant reminder of who you belong to—who made you. It was perfect.

Jimin watches you carefully, and it seems you’ve lost the will fight, though you never stopped glaring at him through your tears. You were already bitten, it was inescapable. But little did you know this was your fate from the moment you saw him in that abandoned store. You foolishly put hope into being with him, the deceiving ghoul that he truly is.

Your eyes start to roll back into your head, legs giving out with Jimin catching you before you can hit the hard floor. Picking you up, he leaves the running shower behind to carry you over to the mattress. Your body is limp in his arms, either passed out or already dead. After all, he picked the perfect spot to bite you. With the wound on your neck, it’ll take no time for the infection to make its way to your brain. He’ll have you quicker that way.

He sets your body on the mattress, blood quickly pooling on the fabric. Already, he can see the bite mark start to take effect, slowly starting to look just like his. It’s a gorgeous sight to him, and he can’t wait until you finally awaken. Then, he’ll be able to keep you forever.

© jiminstonic 2020

tag list: @jikooksgirl19 @sicnesa @buzzyourgirlfriendwoof @deepdarkdelights @iamnamjoonsbxtch @4evahevah @moon8child

[morningsound15]

But like... Zuala could've been resurrected and I'm appalled Yasha didn't at least try?? Thanking the people who KILLED her (in what was basically a homophobic act!!) for burying her in an unmarked grave?? Beau thanking Zuala for getting killed?? I get the sentiment but it was just really rushed and disappointing. romanticizing trauma and violence really rubs me the wrong way.

i get why you feel this way, i do i really do get it, i feel like this moment was sort of the narrative equivalent of caleb destroying the time travel machinery in aeor. i think there was probably a time when yasha would have done anything to have zuala back, but by the time the campaign ended she had left that part of her in the past. we got so many instances of yasha learning to be someone who doesn't hold on to the guilt of her past actions, particularly around zuala. in that one vision from the stormlord right before she gets her wings back, when she decides to leave zuala behind and zuala says back to her "i'm proud of you, don't let me be a shackle." during the final battle with lucien when yasha is trapped in that nightmare and she uses the holy avenger to strike down the image of zuala "i know you're not her." i truly think that if yasha had tried to resurrect zuala it would have cheapened her ending. yasha has learned to be a person who doesn't hold on to her painful past. she mourns her, she honors her, she will never forget her and she will always love her. but that doesn't mean she wants to bring her back.

yasha isn't the same person she was when she met and married zuala. she's completely changed. she's found a new life, new family, new love. you can't just restart someone's life and expect them to return and be the same, to have things be the same. there is such a thing as accepting the past and mourning it without wanting to fix or change it

i don't talk about this much on here because i keep my private life pretty private but i am someone intimately familiar with death and loss. my best friend of 12 years died last year. i lost a surrogate mother figure just a few months ago. deep losses that have rocked me to my very core and changed everything about the way i deal with and interact with the world. i mourn them every day, and i ache with missing them. there are things i regret about our time together — mostly not knowing how short it would be, not living the fullest existence with them that i could have — and there are times, in my weaker moments, when i think that there's nothing i want more than to have them back with me. but that isn't a healthy way of coping with loss. that isn't something that i can keep in my brain. loss is part of life, and part of living is learning to live with loss, learning to understand who we are after we have experienced it, and trying to forge a path ahead either way.

i'm not going to speak for ashely johnson because idk her, but i know that she's someone who has lost loved ones (her father, i believe, when she was a teenager is something she talks a lot about). i think an extremely important part of her character choices is having yasha learn to be someone who isn't shackled by loss and tragedy, who isn't beating herself up constantly about the pain she caused and the things she experienced. learning how to be a person after that, that's what yasha's entire journey was about. to resurrect zuala after that, after everything she went through and learned and experienced... THAT, to me, would have been the disrespectful and disappointing character choice

we don't have to agree on this. stories are meant to be interpreted and experienced differently, and we don't have to like every part of a story that we get. i disagree with you that this ending was about romanticizing trauma and violence. i disagree with you about it being rushed and disappointing. i don't think that beau was thanking zuala for getting killed, and i don't think that yasha's thanks to her former tribe was what you're interpreting it as. it's like when jester was talking to fjord on the water tower, and she said "i'm glad it happened the way it did" — not that she's glad everything happened, but everything happening as it did is what allowed them all to be at the place they are now. beau is thanking zuala for being the person she was to yasha — for loving her, and being there for her, and maybe in some ways for being a symbol for her, something to drag her in out of the cold when needed. and sure, maybe beau is a bit selfish — if zuala hadn't died, yasha wouldn't have fled, they never would have met, they never would have fallen in love — but beau has proven herself to be nothing but gentle and patient and respectful of yasha's relationship with her wife. nothing about yasha's relationship with zuala cheapens what she has with beau, and vice versa.

yasha is thanking her tribe for this one small honor they paid zuala. we don't know what the tribe's relationship is with dead bodies; to me, they read as a largely nomadic people, who are used to living a harsh existence and who aren't keen on drawn-out burial rituals. i don't picture the dolorov tribe as having cemeteries or burial grounds for their dead, or taking part in sentimental death rituals. truly we don't know much about them. but they executed zuala for treason, and would have done the same to yasha if she hadn't run, and they didn't dump her body somewhere or burn it or leave it to scavengers to eat. they buried her. a small kindness, in an act of deep violence. it doesn't make what they did right by any means, but yasha, as someone who is intimately familiar with death (and with causing the death of others) can, i think, appreciate that at least there's someplace for her to go. someplace for her to visit. and of course the tribe wouldn't mark the grave of someone they executed, but yasha did. yasha and beau got to. and there will be wildflowers on zuala's grave that grow nowhere else in the world, and in the wastes of xorhas where there is no color and no life, there will be life on her grave, and that is fucking beautiful.

i'm sorry that you feel let-down by that ending. i just see it in a completely different light. stories resonate in different ways with different people. people and characters have relationships with death and loss that might be different from yours. the ending that these actors chose were the endings they felt were right for their characters, and you don't have to like it but it wasn't your story to tell, it was theirs, and i think it might be good to think about the story with that in mind. you can gain a lot of insight into these characters by what they choose to do, and what they choose not to do, and that, to me, is infinitely more interesting and satisfying than for every dead person in their backstories to get resurrected. resurrection is too neat and easy. real life doesn't work that way. i think it's good and important for stories, even stories full of impossible magic, to reflect that, too.

[where-theres-smoak-2]

I just read the Darkling prequel Demon in the Woods and I had a thought. It’s probably not a very relevant thought but its a thought none the less. So spoiler alert for Demon in the Woods and also Shadow and Bone both book and series. So if you don’t want to be spoiled stop reading now and just keep scrolling past.  

In the prequel it tells the story of The Darkling as a 13 year old boy. Its established that he and Baghra are always on the move and that they have to hide their identities even from other Grisha. One of the things Baghra warns Aleksander is to never let a grisha touch him because then they’ll know he’s an amplifier and that would put them in danger (spoiler alert he lets a grisha touch him and it puts him in danger). It’s pretty obvious that this nomadic lifestyle makes him feel very lonely as they never stay long enough anywhere for him to make any friends. And even if he ever does make friends well eventually he and his mother move on and leave them behind. In the story he and his mother arrive at a grisha village where they are welcomed by the Ulle (the ulle is the chief) who invites them to stay through the winter until spring. Whilst at the village Aleksander who is going by the name Eryk does make a friend, Annika, but she discovers he’s an amplifier when he takes her hand to help her up after a bully the Ulle’s son Lev uses his squaller power to push her to the ground. Later that night she lures him up to a lake and tries to kill him with a rock whilst they are swimming, Lev shows up and upon discovering the reason Annika is trying to kill him decides he wants Aleksander’s bones for himself and so it ends up being this three way fight between them that ends with Aleksander using The Cut for the first time and killing both Annika and Lev. 

The first thing I found interesting is this, if we are assuming that the showrunner’s are planning on keeping this short story as his canon backstory then I can’t help but think about that scene where Aleksander is explaining the cut to Alina in episode 2 and he says he would only use it as a last resort like that ambush. The way he talked about it seemed like he was thinking back on a memory and before reading Demon in the Wood I just figured he was thinking back on the Fjerdan ambush. But now I can’t help but wonder if he was also thinking back to this moment when he used the cut for the first time after being ambushed and nearly killed by someone he thought was a friend.  

The second thing that interested me was that after he and the now dead Annika and Lev are found he tells the Ulle that they were attacked. The Ulle and the village Elders believe that its a nearby otkazat’sya village that has done it. Baghra and the Ulle launch an attack on the village and after we get this exchange between Baghra and Aleksander:

When he could find the strength, he asked, “The village?”

“They would not give up the riders who attacked you, so we killed them all.”

“All?”

“Every man, woman, and child. Then we burned their houses to the ground.”

He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She gave him the barest shake, forcing him to look at her. “I’m not. Do you understand me? I would burn a thousand villages, sacrifice a thousand lives to keep you safe. It would be us on that pyre if you hadn’t thought quickly.” Then her shoulders slumped. “But I cannot hate that boy and girl for what they tried to do. The way we live, the way we’re forced to live—it makes us desperate.”

It is worth pointing out that Baghra was aware that Aleksander was lying about the attackers when she and the Ulle retaliated against the village. She knew the villagers were innocent. I can’t help but see the similarities between this situation where Baghra took part in the slaughter of a village full of innocents and the Darkling’s attack on Novokribirsk. I said in my review of the shadow and bone book that one of the things I was frustrated about was I didn’t understand why the Darkling had killed a village of innocent people with seemingly no motivation unlike in the show where he did have a motivation that I could understand. I can’t help but wonder now if it stems back to this. As a young boy his mother slaughters a village out of love for him and to protect him. On top of that when he himself is feeling guilty about his part in the loss of these innocent lives Baghra makes him believe that it was ok not to be sorry because it was a us or them situation. I think that line ‘I would burn a thousand villages, sacrifice a thousand lives to keep you safe’ is really how the Darkling feels about the grisha. Especially when you couple it with this quote from the prequel: 

He understood then. The Grisha lived as shadows did, passing over the surface of the world, touching nothing, forced to change their shapes and hide in corners, driven by fear as shadows were driven by the sun. No safe place. No haven.

There will be, he promised in the darkness, new words written upon his heart. I will make one.

It was at this moment at the ripe old age of 13 that Aleksander makes his vow of creating a safe place for the Grisha. It really shows just how much time he has spent trying to achieve this goal, I mean he really did dedicate his entire life to this cause. And all of it stems from this early trauma he suffered when a young girl and a young boy tried to kill him out of desperation because they felt weak and hunted and felt like if only they had the strength of an amplifier they might be able to survive. I do think this was a pivotal moment in making Aleksander who he was. I do think this influenced his decision to attack Novokribirsk or at least I suspect it wasn’t far from his mind when he did. 

Also the things that we get taught as a child do stick with us. In this moment Aleksander is being taught that when you love someone and when you want to protect someone then its ok to commit terrible acts against others. Further more he is taught by the Ulle’s and the Grisha villagers’ actions that when someone does you wrong it is right to seek retribution for those sins. Whilst Aleksander knows that the people of the nearby Village were innocent he also knows that the Ulle and the Elders of the grisha village don’t know. So he is watching and learning from their response to a situation where they believe someone has killed two of their children. So knowing this think back to Novokribirsk. In the show he says to Alina that those men had tried to kill her and this was their retribution. Knowing this backstory, again if they are keeping it as canon in the show, makes this moment make even more sense for Aleksander’s character, he believes that he was right and just in his actions because as a child he was taught that this is the response you should take when someone hurts or tries to hurt someone you love and care for. It also worth noting that in the flashback in episode 7 Aleksander says to the soldiers that he doesn’t want to hurt them and that he is approaching peacefully. This shows that as time has gone on he has thought maybe there is another way of dealing with this sort of situation that doesn’t involve violence. But then when they kill Luda and he kills the King’s men in return he finds himself back in that same place of killing in retribution of the death of someone he loves. I feel like this only cemented the idea in his head that killing out of retribution is the correct or best way of dealing with it because when he tried it a different way the outcome was still the same.  

I mean I could be reaching with all of this, but I feel like this backstory really helps explain Aleksander’s actions when it comes to Novokribirsk and gives even more nuance to his character. I mean between this as a child and then Luda later in his life its no wonder he’s gone a bit dark. Poor guy is just not catching a break.