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littleladymab · 3 years

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The Phoenix Suite (SW Rebels Pod+Fic)

Do you know what a phoenix is? It is said that the bird would go out in a burst of flames, and then rise from its ashes, born again. Even if we lose here, the Rebellion will never go out. Someone will always be the spark.

((Kallus tries to get a message to the Rebellion, but he fails -- tries to get a message to the Rebellion but he fails -- but he fails -- he fails))

Series: Star Wars Rebels Characters: Kallus, Thrawn, and the Ghost Crew Rating: Teen Tags: S3 Finale, time-loop, warnings for implied torture/character death/suicide (but again, it's a time loop, so it doesn't stick)

Read by Litra (link to stream)

----

Kallus hits the ground, hard.

He wheezes, more in shock than in pain, and inhales a lungful of dust and air tinged with the ozone of blaster fire. His shoulder takes the brunt of the blow, hands cuffed uselessly behind him.

Still, he’s able to roll into the fall and scrambles to his feet as the call goes up behind him.

“Grand Admiral!” a trooper shouts. “The prisoner is trying to escape!”

Kallus can’t hear Thrawn’s response, but the screams of the dying Rebel forces and the heavy tread of the walkers is enough of an answer: He’ll die with Atollon, and with the Rebellion.

For a wild, frantic second, Kallus considers charging one of the rear guards and taking their blaster, dragging down whoever else he can with his inevitable demise.

But then the part of his brain that clings to survival, to the barest glimmer of hope that this can still be salvaged, urges him onward.

So he runs — away from the sounds of the massacre, away from the orderly advance of the troopers and their walkers. Far enough that the only thing he can hear is the distant roar of chaos and ships crashing to the planet’s surface in his ears.

Breaking the cuffs is easy when he has a moment. He knows where to apply the right amount of pressure, even with his hands locked behind him.

There’s a faint and ominous skittering sound to his left, so he banks right. He has no knowledge of Atollon, and he certainly doesn’t want to learn about the local fauna.

Not when his brain is reeling and clawing desperately for a solution. Not when he’s staunchly ignoring the voice in the back of his head, the cold, calculated tone of the ISB Agent, as it scoffs and says you know a hopeless case when you see one.

Because he does. He knew from the moment he woke up in the cell after being knocked out by Thrawn on the communications tower.

Shit, probably earlier than that, if he’s being completely honest.

Playing at being a Rebel, thinking he could handle the mantle of Fulcrum.

The moment Thrawn walked into the picture, he was fucked.

His feet carry him without thought, winding away deeper and deeper into the wilds of this uninhabited planet. Further, he thinks, from the remains of his failure.

Until he crests a ridge and he’s standing on a cliff and he can see it all spread out before him. The base flattened, like a bug squashed beneath a boot. The white shapes of troopers picking their way through the remains, and the occasional flash of blaster fire when they find a survivor.

His stomach turns at the sight, the now familiar sickening sensation that this is the mighty hand of the Empire. This is not a war, and it never will be.

And it’s not that he wanted to go down in a blaze of glory or anything. He just wanted to make a difference for once. The tug in his chest, the last desperate pull of hope that led him this way, finally dies, leaving him standing on uneasy legs at the edge of the precipice.

“This is all my fault,” he says to the valley below, and wishes that it could be more of an apology and less of a goodbye.

“Which side do you mourn for?” a voice like thunder asks, and Kallus whirls around — reaching for a weapon that isn’t there.

But instead of a man, instead of Grand Admiral Thrawn with his glowing red eyes or the emotionless mask of a trooper, Kallus finds himself facing a creature that towers like a mountain above him. Its head is framed in a halo of dust as constellations of atmo burners light up behind it, and eyes like twin suns stare down at the human.

Kallus is speechless. Nothing in all of his training has prepared him for this. “What are you?” he asks instead.

“I,” the creature intones, shifting its head so that its silhouette is visible in the fading light, “am the Bendu.” It creaks with every movement, the coral that forms its antlers and outer shell grinding together as the beast lowers itself to Kallus’ level. “And what are you? You found me, yet… you are not a Jedi.”

Kallus wonders what makes being a Jedi a prerequisite for this. “I am…” Kallus starts, but in the end, he can’t figure out what the answer should be.

“Alexsandr Kallus, Imperial Security Bureau Agent 021,” the creature supplies, and Kallus feels hot and cold inside all at once.

He grinds his teeth and clenches his hands into fists and refuses to give into a physical display of his anger. “Not any longer.”

The Bendu studies him, those burning yellow eyes peeling him away layer by layer. “You wear the uniform. You keep that name close to your heart. Who are you, Alexsandr Kallus, if not an agent of the Empire?”

Enough is enough.

Every bruise and broken rib and laceration stings, the pain pulsing in time to his ragged breathing and his labored heartbeat. They are what reminds him of who he is, because everything he can see and hear tells him that the Bendu is right, he still is ISB-021.

He draws himself up to his full height, and throws his shoulders back in a way that he has seen Rebellion fighters do — one that conveys defiance instead of the perfectly postured lines of the Empire. “I am Fulcrum,” he says. “I am a Rebel spy, an Imperial defector. I am—” Here he falters, voice finally cracking. “I am well and truly fucked.”

The Bendu gives a low growl of something that might be understanding deep in its chest. “So then, Alexsandr Kallus: Which side do you mourn for?”

A laugh, strained and hysterical, boils up the back of his throat, but he swallows it down before it can get loose. “Why would I mourn the Imperials? They are the clear victors here.”

“Ah,” the Bendu says, as if it had caught Kallus in a particularly clever trap. “But in their victory, have they not also lost? Things they don’t even realize are missing.”

“Whose side are you on, anyway?” Kallus counters. “If you were here, why didn’t you help the Rebellion? Why didn’t you help the Jedi?”

There is another rumble, this time like a storm, and the blazing suns of the Bendu’s eyes flash in warning. “I am the one in the middle. As I told the Jedi Knight who came and asked for my assistance, I take no side.”

Kallus just barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. More Force and Jedi nonsense taken to the extreme. “This is a war. You side with the oppressors when you refuse to take action against them.”

“You picked a side, Agent. You carry pride for what you have done. Who are you, with your accolades and titles bestowed upon you by your Empire, to tell me that I do more harm than good? I am the Bendu. I am the one in the middle.”

Standing there on the cliff’s edge, still in his ISB uniform, Kallus wonders if he himself isn’t currently dangling precariously in the middle. Stranded between two worlds, no longer one but not truly another. He rejected the Empire, but was never fully accepted by the Rebellion.

Except that’s not true, is it? Not really. It wasn’t all that long ago that he was in the detention cell, undoing Ezra Bridger’s handcuffs, and the boy turned to look up at him with an expression of distrust but determination. The crew of the Ghost put everything on the line to try and save him, but he had said no. I can do more good here.

“I didn’t think that I had a choice,” Kallus finally says. “I didn’t know anything else.”

“Then what changed?”

How to answer? A part of him had died after that night on Bahryn. The person who crawled his way out of the ice and into the trader’s ship was someone else entirely.

Kallus had been given a choice; several, in fact.

He had spared Garazeb Orrelios’ life, twice. He had declined the invitation to be rescued by the Ghost crew.

That’s when he began to acknowledge the cracks — the chipping veneer on the Empire’s elaborate portrait of the future. When given the chance to do something more, he knew that there was another answer than the easy one offered by the Empire.

Eventually, he gives a helpless shrug. “Everything.”

The Bendu considers this, considers him. It’s similar to the feeling of being studied by Kanan Jarrus, or by the Inquisitor. That depth in their gaze that sees beyond this moment, like they know something is about to happen.

Someone who can see the full picture, where Kallus cannot.

Kallus knows, without a doubt, that he’s about to be given another choice. He is a man who takes disjointed pieces and knows how to put them together into a narrative. He is a man who has thrived on logic and reason for so long that they are second nature to him.

There is nothing left for him except execution at the hands of the Empire, or a slow death in the wilds of Atollon. There is no other way for this story to end, except for the choice that he will be offered.

“Would you change this, if you could?” The Bendu waves one massive hand, encompassing Kallus beaten and bloody, the smoldering valley below, the remains of destroyed ships like falling stars in the hazy sky.

“Yes,” Kallus says without hesitating.

“What would you change?”

Another shrug, not knowing where to begin. “Everything.”

The Bendu leans in closer still, until its eyes are the only thing that Kallus can see, and its hot breath washes over him. “If you could do this over again, would you?”

Now is not the time for logic and reason. Now is the time for gut instinct, in trusting something bigger than himself, bigger than the Empire.

Alexsandr Kallus, no longer an ISB Agent, no longer Fulcrum, dead man walking, looks the Bendu straight in the eyes and says, “Yes.”

It happens all at once. (It happens over the course of an eternity.) [It happens in juddering starts and stops and flashes of moments strung together.]

Kallus feels like he’s being plunged into a pool (into the dead cold of space) [like he’s being torn apart and reconfigured]. There is a weight on his chest that saps the air from his lungs and before he can get a chance to wonder if he’s made a mistake, everything goes black.

(( read the rest on ao3 ))

#star wars #sw rebels #star wars rebels #i live life on the wild side and just leave the links in the main post #a lil miss fic #podfic #baby's first podfic please enjoy #litra did an amazing job reading it #written for the pod_together 2021 event

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whatdoyouexpectthistime · 5 years

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Part 2: The Hand That Binds

READ Part 1: Pride or Clan

When he had settled against the mat, gaze still locked with Miho’s, she rose her voice.

“Everyone out.”

There wasn’t a whisper, not single question or objections. The Li filed out under guard, until Victor and Miho were alone.

“I imagine that was far more painful than taking those arrows still sticking out of your chest,” Miho mused, dropping her formality and approaching him slowly. “Humility is not something your clan is known for.”

“Perhaps not,” Victor responded, tracking her advance until she stood directly in front of him. “But I am not my father.”

“No, you’re not,” she smiled, sitting herself down cross-legged. “And for that reason, I am willing to offer my support. The Li stand upon the precipice of destruction, an end – no doubt – Lucien Xu would love to bring about that same future for all who refuse to bow before him, myself included. I like to think that makes us allies.”

“Allies with a broken clan?” he said – not confused, but skeptical with her word choice.

“So, shall I dispatch reinforcements to your capital?” she offered, completely ignoring his question. “No doubt Lucien is already marching there to complete his campaign against you.”

“While I still draw breath it will never be complete,” he declared, his inhale rasping loudly.

“By the look of things, that may not be much longer without medical intervention.”

“I will rest when my people are safe,” he asserted, his glistening brow twitching.

Before he could drive the arrows further into his body, Miho caught his forward listing body.

“Gavin,” she said quietly, and the ninja appeared as if form thin air. “See the good lord to a state room and ensure he lives.”

Stretching her arms, Miho exhaled a long breath. Within her private quarters, she could be more relaxed, for those who were allowed inside had her closest confidence.

“It went well then,” Jazz smiled, padding on bare feet from the shadows and touching a warm hand to Miho’s left cheek. “Still a little tense though.”

“A little difficult not to with war on our doorstep and the new leader of a rival clan wheezing bloody lungfuls next door.”

“He is next door?” Jazz murmured, brushing her fingertips down Miho’s neck and across her shoulders as she stepped behind the other woman. “I suppose we shall have to be quiet then.”

“That would be polite,” Miho sighed, closing her eyes, allowing herself to be tugged back toward the futon, onto which she sat. “Are we polite?”

“Me?” Jazz chuckled in Miho’s ear, stripping away part of the Fujiwara leader’s robe. “Definitely. You, not so much.”

“And Liana?” Miho prompted, suppressing a shiver as Jazz began to lightly trace the edges of her fingernails against her skin. “Where is she?”

“She returned shortly after you convened in the hall,” Jazz answered. “And now she is no doubt reminding Gavin what he missed while out following your orders,” Jazz answered, beginning the press of her thumbs into Miho’s rigid muscles.

“His greatest fear – being without her,” Miho laughed, wincing as Jazz put pressure on a particularly sore spot.

“Oh, I think his greatest fear is having to share her with you,” Jazz corrected, softening the accuracy of her ‘therapy’ with the gentle touch of her lips.

“Hmm, yes I suppose it might be,” Miho agreed thoughtfully, huffing a loud breath. “You think I should allow them to be together.”

Not a question, a statement.

“I think their bond is genuine,” Jazz replied diplomatically. “And worth nurturing.”

“Fine,” Miho dropped, getting up to wriggle out of the rest of her clothing. “I do not have time for a harem now anyway.”

When she was naked, Jazz stepped up to swathe her in a delicate night-robe, one much the same as she herself wore.

“I am going to need you to work harder, Jazz,” Miho admitted, taking the pale woman’s face between her hands. “The Xu will finish with the Li in short order, then Lucien will set his sight on our mountains. Strong as I am, as my armies are, if we cannot break through his ability to protect his forces against attack, we shall fail – just like Victor.”

Ever so slightly, Jazz nodded, and with a rare, relieved smile Miho kissed her lightly.

“But for now,” Jazz winked, lacing her fingers through Miho’s and giving her a tug back to the futon, “let us forget about Victor and Lucien, and think only of us.”

A suggestion Miho gladly followed.

______________________________________________

The morning was bitter with cold, and Miho had risen before the sun. She checked in with Liana and Gavin, who like her, were early to rise for training – despite how strenuous their night-time activities may have been. There were no excuses, no explanations and no fear from them when she interrupted their sparring session, despite the fact Miho had expected Liana to be present with Jazz the evening prior.

They knew if Miho had an issue with their increasingly frequent liaisons, she would have intervened when Gavin first showed an interest. The head of the Fujiwara Clan had a reputation for many things, running her affairs in the face of many societal norms among them.

Still, they were careful to show no measure of impropriety in public spaces.

“Lord Victor,” she prompted, addressing Liana. “I take it he is still alive?”

“Difficult to discern, My Lady,” Liana replied seriously. “The man is so cold; alive, dead, there does not appear to be much of a difference.”

Making little attempt to hide her amusement, Miho gave Liana a light tap on the arm.

“I need you to assist Jazz until further notice,” she said and Liana nodded without hesitation, though Miho was not oblivious to Gavin’s sideways glance. “And I want you to be Lord Victor’s shadow when he is from my sight.”

“You plan to keep him close?” Gavin queried, a little warily, and Miho waved her hand dismissively.

“Everyone must make sacrifices if the clan is to survive the Xu scourge,” she reasoned casually, wriggling her fingers theatrically in the air.

Her face the very picture of carefree.

“My Lady,” a soldier greeted. “Lord Victor is requesting your presence.”

“Duty calls,” Miho sighed, but pointed at Gavin as she stepped away. “I want to be able track the Xu to the last arrow - every hoof in the dirt, every mouthful of rice.”

“Without fail,” Gavin nodded, and had disappeared as if never there.

After her arrival was announced, Miho entered one of several staterooms used for hosting visiting nobles. Therein she found Victor sitting upright, his otherwise bare chest bound around and cross-ways.

“I am no physician, but you should be resting,” she scolded, despite the crispness of Victor’s demeanour. “You do your clan no favours plunging headlong into an early grave.”

“No, resting in the den of a…” Victor replied, but cut himself off.

Miho’s eyebrows raised.

“Oh, please do continue,” she encouraged, brightly. “It would seem a single night and the best of my medical personnel have worked wonders for your humility.”

Receiving her message, Victor paused to think over a more diplomatic response.

“My apologies,” he conceded, and Miho sat down at the end of his futon.

“Yours is an unenviable position,” she pointed out. “The Xu aside, war has taken its economic toll on your people. Without assistance their suffering will protract until…”

She spread her hands.

“But people are people, Lord Victor,” she went on. “And I would see the misery of your people no more than I would sit idle and endure the misery of mine.”

“And you would allow them to remain, mine?” Victor probed, slowly this time, carefully.

“Well, I’m not sure a hungry child cares who claims sovereignty over her, but if you’re asking whether I intend to pounce on the opportunity to steal your lands? No,” Miho assured him. “The Fujiwara and Li may not be allied, but we’re not enemies, nor do I or my people require expansion. Lucien, on the other hand, is a malice I have no tolerance for.”

Victor took some time to search her face in the wake of this declaration, hunting for duplicity. The world was cutthroat, and clan leaders carried the weight of so many lives it was uncommon for them to not take advantage of any and all chances to increase their influence.

“You look a little confused,” Miho snickered. “Is humanity really so foreign a concept to you?”

“Foreign, no,” he answered. “It was simply not the way I was raised. Were our roles reversed, I cannot say I would be so magnanimous.”

“Will you look at that,” Miho laughed. “A compliment. Have you perhaps developed a fever?”

“You may take it that way if you wish,” he nodded, adjusting the way he sat with a small grimace. “However, it was intended to express puzzlement.”

“Well, you don’t need to truly understand my motivations to benefit from them,” she assured.

“Perhaps not,” he acknowledged. “But I cannot believe your actions will come without cost. If I am not mistaken, Lucien offered you peace.”

“Some skewed version of it,” she confirmed. “Buuuuut, he won’t be able to bind my clan or me in that fashion now.”

“Through marriage, you mean?” Victor sought in clarification, and Miho nodded.

“Don’t get me wrong, I have great affection for my concubines,” she admitted, “I may even love one or two, but for the leader of a clan and for its future, marriage must be an exclusive proposition.”

“I had heard nothing of you taking a husband,” Victor frowned slightly, while Miho’s smile turned into a confident grin.

“Because I have not,” she declared, then narrowed her eyes on him pointedly. “But I will be.”

______________________________________________

Don’t forget folks, comments and commenty reblogs keep a girl writing! I’m also open to, you know, expanding Miho’s collection of concubines for any who have OCs who would like cameos -grins-

#You should have seen that coming Victor #Miho the Benevolent #Jazz the Concubine #mlqc #Mr. Love Queen's Choice #fanfiction #Miho and Jazz sexy times #Miho is totally the lesser evil #Hmm what should I do with Kiro?#elex #paper games

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prcphcts · 4 years

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ELLE FANNING / CIS FEMALE. — henrietta prophet is really making a name for themselves as a tier 6 shepherd. i think that she is studying economics + communications in their sophomore year at lockwood, living in omega mu. originally from darlington, south carolina, henri is known to be ritzy & magnetic, but can also be intractable & guileful. — james / 20 / est / she/they.

aaaaaand that’s 5/5 intros done !!! woo !! realizing tht henri’s might be my longest as well :/ sry abt that ... all of that just 2 say she’s chaotic evil n a liar ... god ... anyways !!

TW ANIMAL CRUELTY, VOMIT MENTION, BULLYING, VIOLENCE, HIT & RUN, MURDER, DEATH, BODY IMAGE.

a e s t h e t i c s

the struggling flicker of a diamond-encrusted lighter, puppy dog pouts and crocodile tears, a mother’s pearls and her earrings to match, tarnished tennis bracelets soaked in vinegar and baking soda, baby pink stiletto nails, baby pink stiletto heels, furs and leathers and snakeskins, body glitter, reapplying lip gloss three times within ten minutes, biographies of famous war generals, twelve rings and ten fingers, persistent nosebleeds, the twirl of a tennis skirt, swan imagery, marble floors and chandeliers, fuzzy sleeping masks, long sheer robes, each lock of blonde hair methodically curled, practicing expressions in the mirror, spinning many webs.

general info !!

full name: henrietta eloise prophet

nickname(s): henri, etta, hen.

b.o.d. - august 13th, 20 yrs old.

label(s): the baby doll, the hellion, the icarian, the minx, the prevaricator, etc.

height: 5′9″ n she’ll stomp you out with her hooves

hometown: darlington, south carolina

sexuality: mostly straight :// tragic. but she’s also chaotic evil so :/

stats

biography !!

born in a city entirely too small for her, in a hospital in which she never cried in, and brought home to a four white columns exterior and a perfectly maintained lawn to two, normal, average, relatively well off but nowhere near millionaire status adults.

her father, william, was a simple man who has spent years climbing the ladder as a car parts salesman, only to stay stuck in the same position - same roll, same paycheck - for the past however many years. her mother, audrey, was an accountant at the same bank she visited as a child with her own mother, tiny fists balled up and tugging at the hem of her dress as she made withdraws.

there are no more prophet children, at least between william and audrey - henrietta’s an only child and a spoiled one at that. her parents showered her in gifts and affections - a desperate attempt to subdue her toddler terror years, a plan that worked most occasions.

she’d always been particularly bossy, particularly bratty - in her pink ribbon’d dresses and too puffy skirts, hands on hips and an awfully demanding voice to anyone that dared displease her - whether they were classmates, friends, family, teachers - waiters at restaurants, mommy and daddy’s coworkers. it had once been considered cute, in a way. nothing too concerning.

then she started ripping the wings off of butterflies, sticking them beside her eyes and prancing about - announcing herself the butterfly conqueror. not the butterfly queen, or princess - conqueror. vanquisher. defeater. victor. winner. champion.

she’d play by herself, often - partially in fault to the butterfly accident, which happened at another child’s birthday party - which had her dismissed early from the event, which had henrietta snatching back her carefully wrapped present (and a few, smaller bags - shoved right inside her barbie purse) and stomping out of the backyard.

it was easier to command an army of stuffed animals and barbie dolls than other people, but it hadn’t ever felt the same. playing pretend was never as good as actually doing. she minded being alone. hated it, despised it. so she’d learn to draw people in - small promises of homemade snacks and wearing her favorite tiara instead of herself - little white lies intended to draw people near and dear to her.

an awfully demanding, awfully conniving child whose personality only worsened as she got older. clawing at kids who wanted to be ‘queen’ at play time in kindergarten turned into getting sick, so very unfortunately, onto the dress of another girl for her third grade talent show who dared pick the same song as henrietta.

in middle school she became part of her school’s ‘peer mediator’ program - in which students deal with other student’s conflicts - a terrible, horrible idea. a terrible, horrible idea that henrietta had loved, fed off of. peers came to her, and days later - rumors were spread about the very people seeking comfort.

nothing has ever been off-limits to henrietta. if she wants it, she gets it.

history class entranced her - from the moment she had begun to learn about wars, she’d been obsessed. on her own, she’d research them - the strategies war generals had used, and which ones failed - which ones succeeded. she took the strategies to heart.

because henrietta had never felt like she’d been enough - not in a way that she loathed herself, no - henrietta loved herself. still does. but because her life had never felt enough - her parents were never enough, with all their affection - she always wanted more. more clothes, more toys, more friends, more control. more more more more more.

she always wanted to lead the narrative, to shape her own path - to shape other’s paths, always imagined things different - how she’d change things, if she could, whether they were classroom rules or real life situations. insatiable.

moved to rochester, new york the summer before her freshmen year at high school due to her father switching territories in a desperate attempt to up his paycheck. with her stained reputation ( known for biting classmates, throwing major tantrums, starting rumors, once gave the first clarinet chair bad sushi so she’d be sick during a winter concert in the 7th grade - leaving henri no choice but to take her place as best clarinet player, and other unsettling behaviors ) - henrietta thought it was an excellent decision.

spent the majority of that summer practicing how to speak without her southern drawl - it was cute, she’d admit, but far too predictable. never wanted to be known as a southern belle - just a gal with impeccable taste.

frequented new york city often within that time span, often with her dad’s credit card, and often buying well-made fakes so that she could build upon her identity as someone rich. someone important. someone influential. they couldn’t afford the real deal - so she made do, maxing their card along the way.

got introduced to the internet at a relatively young age, but she never utilized it in a way that benefited herself until she reached high school and realized she wanted to be bigger than big. better than all the girls older than her, a force to be reckon’d with.

got involved on kik in a bout of boredom and spoke to strangers often, mostly ridiculing them as she saw fit. made friends with a few - but enough of them to introduce her into a culture of scamming the creeps she’d run into on the app. how to promise them photos of herself and meet-ups, if only they sent a little bit of cash to aid her.

the money was good - but not consistent, and she’d only been so young - there was more to learn. she needed someone to teach her. and then she met tatiana samuels.

henri doted on tatiana, when they met. a few grades apart - tatiana was in her own world, a world that henri wanted in on - desperately.

she told tatiana many things - told everybody who would listen, many things. how her parents had died a few months previous ( & left her a hefty inheritance ) and she had moved in with her uncle, who she hated, and how she wanted to believe that there was still something good in the world after fate had been so cruel to her family.

tatiana took her under her wing. showed her the ropes, how to lure boys in and how to ignore the taste of certain liquors, and how to leave some stores wearing more layers than you had on going in.

henri still wanted more - and she had formed her own group of friends, twisted them around her finger so they’d never question her. still itched for something grand. something tatiana couldn’t give her. she could shoplift as much as she’d like, steal from her friends and seduce creeps online - but she was bored, and restless, and desperately trying to plan her next steps.

they stopped talking as frequently once tatiana had graduated - and then, they stopped speaking all together. this never bothered henri.

then during henri’s sophomore year came the whispers of something new. something that sparked her interest - something that she hadn’t been meant to overhear, but she had, and wanted in on.

watershed.

she wasn’t a coder, had no part in programming the app - she hadn’t even been one of the originals behind the app, just a girl in the right place at the right time - with the right ideas and the ability to be underestimated - an ability that was more often than not useful. it became another obsession of hers - much like wars, it captivated her interest.

she’s been involved with the app since 2016 - mostly out of self-interest, as she’s a girl with a lot of secrets, and a lot to lose.

the rest of high school was a blur - she’d gotten a lead in the musical after an unfortunate accident involving the lead, leaving her in a neck brace and henri, her dutiful understudy, to take on the role herself. a nasty rumor had spread about the head cheerleader during henri’s senior year - causing the girl to transfer and henri to take her place, as what was only right. both merely just coincidences that had worked in her favor.

( one fateful spring break, her senior year - henri and her gal pals had gone on a trip to california to shop, party, and celebrity hunt. all expenses paid via credit card. it was cut short after a particular accident which involved attempting to break into a celebrity’s home and fleeing the scene - henri taking the wheel and maybe, just maybe, committing an awful hit and run - and them all leaving to new york the next day. as far as those girls know - they were blackmailed into silence by someone on the app. and maybe henri has something to do with that, as well. )

lockwood was the obvious choice for her. tatiana died her freshmen year - and it was tragic, truthfully - and she shed a tear at her funeral, after all of it had been done, but no more than one, and no more after that.

personality !!

she’s an economics / communications major though she takes a lot of business / political / history related classes as well on the side. she likes to be well-rounded and educated.

still pretty obsessed w/ wars … has two twin balinese cats named napoleon & hannibal and they roam around omega mu.

a cheerleader, on the student government council, in debate, a newspaper writer, and in several sports (tennis, for one). she likes to be very involved - and likes to be very in control of what she’s involved in. needless to say she’s got a major role in each extracurricular of hers.

puts on a very kind, very friendly - helpful, maybe, if not a little eager to please personality. polite and the tiniest bit stern when it comes to school. she’ll walk you to your classes if you’re new, and leaves with fifty new facts about you while you know nearly nothing about her.

just … very clearly magnetic & charismatic & able to captivate and hold someone’s attention for a long while. rly charming :/ i guess :/ an interesting person to talk to b/c she always has a story to tell.

but she has motives for everything she does and it’s all an act - she’s very ambitious, very manipulative, and very well known for being just the opposite of that.

if anything - she tries to come off a little ditzy at times - a little giggly, while still retaining some semblance of elegance and respect. tries to radiate warmth without actually having to be so.

she’s often distant - very emotionally unavailable, none of her relationships have been long term - but there’s a lot of them, and if there is a social event then she will be there, undoubtedly, with a date on her arm.

learned from tatiana herself how to lead others on - she’s very good at making others feel important and like they have a place in her life - when henri often feels the opposite about them.

somehow manages to be seen doing charity work, or helping with fundraisers, and generally being a very involved student - whether it’s written in the college newspaper or photographed - without doing much work at all.

speaking of the college newspaper - she has an anonymous advice column where she gives purposely terrible advice under the guise of being something helpful, and well-meaning. her name is miss antoinette.

likes to be in control, and when it’s taken from her it’s always a shock - puts her on edge, and though she tries very hard to keep things under control, she’s frequently brimming with anger.

kind of person to scream when she’s alone - throws & breaks shit, a full out violent display - a tantrum meant for a toddler, in the body of a twenty year old.

the closer you become to her - or the closer you think you’re becoming - the more unsettling she seems to be. how unrealistic, almost. if you focus, you can start to pinpoint where her real laugh ends and her fake laugh begins.

has had … moments that were not her proudest - that involve her threatening someone with a sparkling pink pocket knife. mostly irritants, and after much provoking - and thankfully not in public.

she’s also incredibly stubborn - it’s near impossible to move her, or shift her opinion. always has to have her way and hates being told no.

looks out for only herself and no one else. if it comes down to it - she’ll gladly leave everybody else in the dust, especially if it means she advances.

very destructive - doesn’t hesitate to use gossip or rumors against others. has blackmailed others via the watershed app before, and will likely do so again. tends to end up using the things people tell her against them. very prone to guilt-tripping and turning tables.

her favorite color is pink & you won’t forget it. essentially evil elle woods. only wears shades of pink, and cream & white. & champagne & rose gold & metallics. will only resort to other colors in moments of absolute desperation - and even then, they’re always pastels.

big fan of fur and diamonds and pearls - everything finer in life. owns mostly designer items & flaunts them while trying to look like she’s not flaunting it.

like … she wears a lot of fur coats, and shawls ?? and dresses & skirts and heels, like she’s always dressed like she’s going to go to some big event sometime soon.

sleeps with an eye mask & a white noise machine. insists on getting 9 hours of sleep and will be incredibly grumpy without those 9 hours. spends a good amount of time on her skincare routine - like how in the marvelous ms. maisel, maisel would wake up before her husband to do her makeup and her hair and then go back to sleep right before he woke up ?? and how she’d measure herself constantly ?? that’s sort of how henrietta functions. cue american psycho morning routine monologue.

speaking of sleep … she has really weird n bizarre n frankly. just. off-putting dreams that feel like glimpses of a different reality but they just so happen to be her favorite part of her day. :/

is just … really obsessed with herself. huge ego - if she catches herself in the reflection of anything, whether it’s a window or a mirror, she’ll spend some time looking at herself for … longer than she should.

still has a nasty habit of scamming men online, though she’s delved into other websites & uses a few of the watershed functions to her benefit. pretty much constantly has money because of it.

very big into parties, though she tries her hardest to not go overboard. prefers to be able to make thought out decisions - though there have been times where she’s gone too far.

as i’m sure you can tell by now - henrietta is a very big liar. a hypocrite, too. will tell people not to do things for their best interest, then goes and does them. still tells people her parents are dead when they’re ?? very much alive ??

frankly just lies about her childhood a lot in general, even though it wasn’t terrible.

does this … thing … where if she catches wind that someone has lived close to her hometown she’ll :/ harass them on the watershed app and basically :/ just spread gossip about them until they’re firmly ostracized & away from her.

hooks up with quite a few guys but she has this … thing where she makes them think they’re special because she’s letting them sleep with her and she’s ‘very selective’ but frankly. she both is, and isn’t.

admittedly the jealous type, but also overall avoids catching feelings because she hates the distraction.

she has … emotions, somewhere, but she’s always been the type to bury them and pretend they don’t exist, even when she simultaneously acts like she does have them ??

just … a mess, overall !!

i’m sure there’s more abt her bt frankly i’m tired JSNDKFG

connections to the victims !!

tatiana samuels / her mentor. they met when henri was a freshmen in high school & tatiana was a senior, and tatiana was the one who showed henri the ropes. some of her best tricks are because of tatiana. they became distant after tatiana’s graduation, however.

george craig iii / close friends during high school, if only because of tatiana. but like her, their friendship also became distant once george had graduated high school and they hadn’t spoken much after that.

hana williams / one-sided hatred, henri hated hana and didn’t believe she was a genuine person due to hana’s outright cheerfulness. hana didn’t know this.

christoph wainwright / fellow shepherd, they knew each other almost exclusively through the app. he did her dirty work for her.

wanted connections !!

alright … friends. particularly friends who don’t suspect her to be anything other than who she portrays herself to be ( a very school-involved, well-rounded, friendly gal ).

but then … a close friend, near and dear to her, who has seen the considerably … worse parts of her, but not all of it. who knows that she’s not just another giggling gal pal - but not the full extent of it.

someone who just. gets on her nerves & annoys her to no end. someone she’s threatened with violence before.

fwbs & one night stands - casual hook-ups.

party buddies.

people she went to high school with & are familiar with her past involving tatiana.

someone from her childhood :/ just one person who knows that henri is not all sugar & spice.

others who are suspicious of henri’s supposedly good nature - whether they’ve witnessed something they shouldn’t have, or they think her vibes are off.

fellow shepherds. shepherds she’s using. any fellow tier 6s out there ??

teammates from tennis, or cheerleading.

or others involved in the same extracurriculars she’s in.

someone she’s manipulating for whatever reason. maybe multiple people.

full blown enemies where she just can’t hold back.

someone who is just as destructive as she is & they wreck havoc together when they’re off campus.

a good amount of her exes ?? nothing long term.

her dealers :/ mostly … weed & pills.

rly anything else !! whatever u want !! do it !!

#wshintro #animal cruelty tw #vomit mention #bullying tw #violence tw #hit and run tw #murder tw #death tw #body image tw

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sailor2xmoon · 7 years

Text

Mafia/Hitman AU Pt. 4

In which Victor Nikiforov is a Man for Hire. Urban legends say that, for the right price (and sometimes just for kicks), he can single handedly pull off any job in the world. Beautiful, invincible and filthy rich.

Enter Katsuki Yuuri and it all goes to shit.

Part 1 (x)

Part 2 (x)

Part 3 (x)

AO3 here (x)

Plisetsky, I need you to run an errand for me.

Way ahead of you, old man. Yuri Plisetsky is already on his way to the airport, luggage in tow. Victor owes him a debt anyways.

You can go AWOL when you're dead, goldilocks. But not before you teach me everything you know.

Plisetsky shows up in Hasetsu with murder in his eyes. Victor was unofficially promised as his mentor by the rate he was excelling through the ranks. People in this particular line of work don't tend to die of old age, who knows when a living legend becomes an urban myth. A successor will always be expected, if not welcomed. When Plisekty brought a knife to a gun fight, and won, Victor was in the car that picks him up.

"That was impressive, I could teach you a thing or two." So Victor was willing to take him under his wing and if Plisetsky could make it out alive, he's chosen to be next in line. Plisetsky accepts with a handshake.

He finds Victor sitting by the beach, alone and off guard. He's gotten sloppy. "HEY GOLDILOCKS!"

Victor's armour is on in the blink of an eye and it comes with a big, smug smile. "ah Plisetsky, did you miss me ?"

"Are you enjoying your little vacation?" Plisetsky walks up to him.

Victor keeps his eyes on the water. "Are you here to join me?"

"You know damn well why I'm here. I'm here to haul your ass back to Russia so we can get to work."

Victor remembers their conversation in the car and shrugs. "Here to collect debt? I don't remember there being a deadline."

"Stop fucking around, Victor." Plisetsky spits out at him. "Yakov says you've gone rogue, like hell that's gonna happen if you don't follow through on our deal first. I don't wanna wait around just for you to take those trade secrets to the grave."

"Okay, I'll give you a secret, my loyalties lie with only me." Victor finally turns to look at him. "If Yakov doesn't like it then I'm sure he can hire someone for that. But whoever he hires better be good, cause I'll put up a fight."

"What the hell have they been slipping into your drink, are you seriously willing to make an enemy out of Yakov just to protect some straight edge loser?"

"I'm not making an enemy out of anyone, but no one is going to force me to do anything I don't want to. Besides, I've gotten no payment, my client doesn't need a refund from me. What's it to him?"

"He says you're compromised." Plisetsky says it like its a dirty word, he looks at Victor. "and I'm starting to believe him."

Victor gives a derisive chuckle. "Why? because I don't cater to his every whim? He wants me to break out the brass knuckles when I can get it done without calling the janitors. Besides," He says casually, "I'm having fun with this one."

"For that amount of money, most people don't ask for your preferences." It sure looks like whatever Victor's doing might actually be a lot messier than just dumping a body.

"And the client asked for me anyways. You want me to teach you? Stick around and shadow me, nothing beats full immersion study. And in the meanwhile, you can use some of that time to can come up with an excuse to tell Yakov why you, or anyone else for that matter, can't make me do a thing."

"And if Katsuki just happens to have an unfortunate accident in the meanwhile," Plisetsky digs his heel into the sand, using his words to jab at Victor like needles. "Would you come back then?" Would that bother you, Victor?

"As long as you don't mind explaining to Yakov why you've buried his point of entry. Oh, and pay out of pocket to compensate for my time." Victor tilts his head, his hair falls to side, Plisetsky finds himself staring down daggers. "and maybe I decide I don't want money."

A chill runs up his spine, getting on Victor's bad side was a death wish on a good day. He reconsiders backup plans.

Later that night, Yuuri runs off to the dance studio while Victor is napping. Around midnight, Victor goes for a quiet evening stroll to pick Yuuri up. He thinks Plisetsky's threat is full of shit, but it's raining and Yuuri didn't bring an umbrella. Oh well, maybe Yuuri will be so touched by his act of kindness he'll finally let Victor sleep with him. And it's always a treat to watch Yuuri dance, Victor thinks back to the banquet, the memory tugs on the corner of his lips. There's a soft look in his eyes and he would kill anyone who pointed it out.

A week earlier, when Yakov finds out Victor flew off to Hasetsu, they have a one sided conversation that goes no where.

"-and you know better than anyone it's the equivalent of declaring yourself a walking target. With the amount of enemies you've made, might as well paint a cross hair on your forehead. There are a lot of people gunning for you, Vitya, this is not a wise move. If you go through with this it might be the last thing you eve-"

Victor hangs up on him to hail a taxi.

"Where to?"

"Yutopia."

That kind of confidence will get you killed.

This was looking to be more and more true. Victor’s never felt more alive.

Plisetsky is crouched underneath the stairs leading to Minako's dance studio, handgun tucked into the band of his jeans. He trailed Katsuki Yuuri here hours ago, and the streets have emptied since then. A constant downpour beats down on the city, water splashes through the spaces between the wooden steps, soaking Plisetksy's jacket. By the time Yuuri walks out, there would likely be no witnesses, it's raining hard enough to muffle the sound but there's a silencer strapped to his left calf just in case. It'll be an ideal set up for his original plan.

Yakov tells him, use your discretion. Which to Plisetsky means, if it comes down to it, no holds barred.

If he neutralizes the target and Victor returns to St. Petersburg, Yakov will protect him until the heat dies down. But that's under the assumption he'll make it out of Hasetsu alive. After his chat with Victor on the beach, chances were slim. Victor made his stance quite clear.

Plisetsky is correct in his assumption but doesn't find out through (a likely painful) experience because Victor is stomping up the steps ten minutes later. When he comes back down with the Katsuki boy, he stops mid step and tells Yuuri to wait for him at the bottom. Victor sits down under the guise of tying his shoelaces and with his head hanging upside down, stares right at Plisetsky through the gap between steps. Plisetsky knows there is no way Victor could see him through the dark but flinches anyways. Those eyes looked feral.

You want Katsuki Yuuri? Then you better go through me.

Shit.

"Yakov." Plisetsky was really hoping to avoid this. "We're in trouble."

Victor just waged war.

Plisetsky decides to change up his tactics. Intel was as good as gold when it comes to war, maybe it's time to play nice and see if he could at least get something out of this.

Stick around and shadow me, nothing beats full immersion study, Victor said.

Victor's offer was lucrative enough. He could get away from training and pick up a few things while he's here anyways. Low danger, high efficiency. Besides, looks like Victor has got something up his sleeve, what's got him so invested?

Not a what, but a whom. This becomes pretty obvious pretty fast.

Plisetsky introduces himself as Victors godson, he stays at Yutopia with them, things are... confusing. First night there and Yuuri's sister keeps staring at him, Plisetsky almost wonders what she knows until she asks for an autograph mistaking him for someone called Takao. A family friend called Yuko visits and treats him the same way she treats her six year old triplets. Hey lady, I kill people for money, he wants to say if she could only stop patting him on the head long enough to listen. Something about her voice is less grating than he'd like to admit.

Plisetsky tails them on outings, Victor knows and puts on a show.

They're in a music store when Victor makes a move. He's talking to Yuuri about a song with a two part arrangement: Eros and Agape. Yuuri puts on the headphones to listen to a sample. He says he can identify agape but eros... then Victor is stepping between his legs, rubbing his thumb against Yuuri's lip, whispering something that makes Yuuri knock discs off the display. Plisetsky stops trying to read their lips, intel be damned, he genuinely does not want to know.

Plisetky cringes, Yuuri is two bpms short of cardiac arrest and Victor has his arm draped around Yuuri for the rest of their time out. Victor declares to the world with his presence, Katsuki Yuuri is mine.

And yet, Victor and Yuuri sleep in separate rooms, Plisetsky is bewildered. So Victor's playing the lover but not getting any... and he's let it continue like this? For someone who's opting for a cleaner tactic you sure look waist deep in shit.

Plisetsky sees how Victor looks at Yuuri when he thinks no one's looking. Victor really has gotten sloppy, there is always someone looking.

Plisetsky sees him, and Victor is gone. One photograph of the two of them passed around in the wrong circles and Victor can wave his invincibility bye bye. Plisetsky takes exactly one photo, the word leverage comes to mind.

He isn't sure when Yakov expects him back but purposely leaves his phone unchecked for hours. There really is something in the water.

For the next couple of weeks, Yuuri is bombarded with questions. Minako ask, Yuko and Nishigori ask, the triplets ask relentlessly, even the regulars at Yu-Topia can't help but a spare curious look at the good looking foreigner.

Hey Yuuri did you go out for a business partner but come back with a boyfriend?

Hey Yuuri does he know you've never been in a relationship before?

Hey Yuuri is that kid really his godson?

Are you meeting his family soon?

Is it true you're already living together?

If you guys get married does that mea-

Yuuri insists Victor is here for work. Nobody believes him.

Victor has experience in large scale property management. Victor has private accounts in Luxembourg and Isle of Man. Victor is charming and aggressive in business and in leisure. Yuuri doubts himself and spends all his free time at the dance studio.

Then Victor starts asking.

Do you have feelings for Minako?

No, of course not!

Do you have a lover?

No...

What about past lovers?

(no comment)

Let's build some trust in the relationship, Victor tells Yuuri with his fingers gently sliding under his jawline. Yuuri doesn't want to open his mouth because his heart might plop onto the ground. He draws back and regrets it because there is hurt in Victors eyes.

I'm not good enough for you. You can do better. Why are you here? Am I wasting your time?

Yuuris' thoughts race through his mind every night when Victor asks to sleep together and he says no like it's a rejection when it's a fear of inadequacy.

Victor calls Yuuri Любимая моя, and Yuuri hasn't looked it up but he gets the gist going by how Victor says it. Tender and urgent. Victor and Plisetsky both eat katsudon like they've never had a home cooked meal before. Yuuri feels immense envy at how Plisetsky, at only fifteen years old, can present himself as Victor's equal. Yuuri finds common ground in how the grumpy teen has taken a liking to Yuko. Me too, buddy. Me too.

When the paper work starts coming out, Victor gawks at how long the money trail extends back, The Katsuki family paid nothing less than a fortune when they initially bought this piece of land in the middle of seemingly no where. Yuuri fidgets a bit and says his great grandparents didn't really do much research when it came to entrepreneurship and inevitably got swindled. The finances are a mess, most of the records are still kept in binders with no electronic back up.

Yuuri is fountain of confidential information.

....Yeah the property tax is too high for the land value but we can't afford to have it reevaluated because it doesn't comply with standard building codes....

...the customer traffic here isn't always stable so when things are slow, there's some under the table activity...

...Oh, I used to work for Minako at the bar and just put the income back into our hot springs...

...my mom will rent out rooms for months at a time, it's considered lodging and technically not allowed...

...not a self sufficient business... just a don't ask don't tell policy... being audited would mean game over...

Sometimes Yuuri thinks he sees Victor's eyes glaze over while he's explaining. Am I boring him?

Victor keeps asking Yuuri to go out drinking after meetings, Yuuri barely remembers the banquet and would like to avoid a repeat. He says no and Victor gets black out drunk anyways.

Victor hears everything, and he's got a few ideas.

Tourism spikes from the number of celebrities and famous personas that, suddenly and coincidentally, come to Hasetsu for a quiet weekend away. When asked why, the answer is consistent, they had a referral, from a friend. Suddenly loan managers are calling the Katsuki residence and offering staggeringly low rates like they're asking for a favour. The contractors that used to bang down their doors every Saturday morning have all dropped off the face of the earth.

Yuuri hears Victor's phone ring from outside the room but sees a small, dim rectangular light through the thin fabric of his pocket. Second cellphone for work? Not unheard of but the screen is far too small for a high performance smart phone, it more resembles one of those ancient Nokia brick phones. A work phone but not email enabled, no internet access, maybe not even a colour screen. Yuuri feels like something is off but can't bring himself to ask. Victor steps out for phone calls only to come back with a hard to read expression.

Then Christophe Giacometti, the well loved predecessor of a Swiss bank, ranked 22nd most influential person by World Finance and voted 14th sexiest man alive in Gentlemen's Quarterly, drops by Yutopia and asks for Victor by name. Yuuri is very curious about how that friendship came to be. Victor has a pithy online presence and yet knows some of the most influential people in the business word on a first name basis. So, influential circle, minimal personal information and throwaway cellphones. All of this spells out one thing: he's a Big Deal. So why is he here? Yuuri can't figure it out.

In the meanwhile, he notices Victor has a habit of sizing up everyone they meet, anyone within arms reach, whether they're right or left handed, if they're alone or with a group. Victor always knows where the exits are, whether there are cameras and if so, how many. Victor knows what time a place closes, who the manager is and what kind of car they drive. It's unsettling.

But the smile is in the eyes. Yuuri knows when Victor is genuine and when he is just polite. Yuuri sees Victor eats katsudon like it's the first time, every time and constantly looks for excuses to sneak into Yuuri's room before bed. Yuuri doesn't let him stay but bathes with him in the hot springs beforehand to soften the blow. Yuuri finally looks up the tidbits of Russian that Victor throws around (Let's go to the beach today, Дорогая моя) and is secretly giddy. He writes translations on a post it note and sticks it to the underside of his desk.

Plisetsky knows things are going downhill when Victor starts calling in favours and avoiding Yakov like the plague. It won't be long until he's in enemy territory so he starts packing. There's nothing else to be done, surveillance will be their best bet while he goes back to train with Yakov. Before he leaves, Plisetsky plants cameras around the hot springs, Victor is too distracted to notice. The Victor I knew would be appalled. Is this really The Russian Skater who carved himself into a legend? Is this who Plistesky wants as his mentor? It doesn't matter at this point, Plisetsky hops on a flight to Russia without saying goodbye.

Minako is nosy and wants to interrogate Yuuri. She gets a chance when Yuuri shows up at the dance studio on her night off, buzzing with nervous energy.

"I don't know why he's here."

"Maybe he just wants a break."

"I thought that too but I don't want to hear it..."

"Maybe he likes you." Minako says coyly.

Yuuri doesn't mind hearing that one.

"A bachleor like him...?" Yuuri trails off. With the world in his hands, and he's still pursuing me.

"Are you afraid he's playing you?"

Yuuri isn't sure. He doesn't feel very worthy and he just really doesn't understand why. But when Yuuri begins to second guess himself, Victor places a hand gently on Yuuri's back and it's like releasing a pressure valve. Trust your instincts, Victor whispers to him. In those moments, Yuuri doesn't care about why, he just wants Victor to stay.

"Okay, Yuuri close your eyes." Minako says.

Yuuri snaps out of his thoughts. "What, why?"

"I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to tell me the first answer that comes to your mind. You are a good judge of character but let your insecurities throw them off kilter. So just humour me and clear your mind."

Yuuri takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

"Tell me, is Victor for real?"

Yuuri's eyes snap open, the answer is echoing off the walls.

YES.

Victor comes to pick him up around midnight. "I don't want you to be swept away by the bogeyman." Victor teases him. "Maybe we can cuddle up to a movie tonight."

When Victor laughs, Yuuri thinks his mouth looks like a heart.

Maybe his instincts are on to something.

#yuri on ice #yuuri katsuki #victor nikiforov #yuri plisetsky #victuri #victuuri #yakov feltsman #hitman au

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