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mikauzoran · 3 years

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Lukadrien: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Six

Read it on AO3: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Six

When Marinette opened the apartment door, the script Luka had been practicing on the way over abruptly evaporated from his mind.

Her bloodshot, puffy eyes revealed she’d been crying lately, and the dark circles underneath them told of sleepless nights since their separation.

She looked weary and worn out but still oh so beautiful, and it made his heart ache.

“Luka?” she breathed, a flicker of light and colour coming back to her face and eyes when she realized he was really there and not just some mirage conjured by her exhaustion.

His heart crumbled as she pulled him into a tight hug, and he couldn’t fight the need to wrap his arms around her and hold her.

“…Did you change your mind?” she inquired doubtfully into his chest after nearly a solid minute had passed and she couldn’t allow herself to delude herself any longer.

He pulled away, mournfully shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I wish we could make this work, but…nothing’s changed…and I need to take care of myself. I can’t keep waiting and hoping for things to be different.”

She stepped back, looking away and crossing her arms with a tired sigh. “Okay…but let me know if you do change your mind. I can’t imagine ever stopping loving you.”

She looked back at him, meeting his eye, her own misting with tears. “I do love you, you know. It wasn’t fair for you to say that I didn’t. I can love more than one person at once. You’ve loved more than one person at a time.”

Luka winced, shrinking guiltily. “You’re right. That wasn’t fair of me, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that…but I still can’t be with someone who loves someone else more than me.”

“You are the one who decided that I love him more than you,” she replied coolly. “I’m sorry for whatever I did to make you think that, but isn’t the most important thing that I chose you? I picked you, Luka,” she stressed, a pleading note to her voice.

His gaze dropped to his feet as he muttered, “Because you couldn’t have him.”

“Because I love you and wanted to make a life together because I thought we could work,” she corrected.

He looked up at her, eyes scanning her face and seeing truth there.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t change the past. I come with baggage, and if you don’t think your baggage and my baggage go together…well, I’m really, really sad about that, but it’s okay. I do love you, and I want you to be happy. I’m sad it can’t be with me, but I want you to be happy.”

Tentatively, he pulled her back into his arms. “Thank you. That means a lot to me, Chanson. I want you to be happy too…I just don’t think we can be happy together right now. I’m sorry if that’s my fault.”

She shook her head, effectively nuzzling his shoulder. “It’s not. Not totally your fault. Obviously, I’m part of the problem too.”

They stood there quietly holding one another for a minute before Marinette spoke up again. “…This sucks.”

“Yeah,” Luka chuckled tearfully. “Yeah, it does.”

“We can still be friends, though, right?” She pulled back to look up at him with desperation in her eyes. “This isn’t goodbye, is it? I don’t want to lose you, Luka.”

He gently wiped away the tears that had escaped and were making a break for it down her cheeks.

“Shh,” he soothed. “You won’t lose me. I don’t want to lose you either, Marinette. I think it’s just going to take some time before I’m okay…. I’d wanted to spend my life with you too.”

She nodded, resting her head back on his shoulder. “Okay. I guess…we’ll just see how it goes. Maybe once it stops hurting so bad, if we just act like everything’s okay, we’ll be all right again.”

“Maybe,” he sighed, pulling back. “I hope so. Right now, though, it’s just too painful to be around you. Don’t be mad if I don’t call you for a couple weeks.”

She nodded again. “All right. That’s…that’s a long time.”

He exhaled slowly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I think it’s going to take a long time to start to feel okay again.”

“Okay.” She blew out a long sigh, relenting and accepting that things were changing and that it was beyond her power to do anything about it. “Well…I hope things get better soon.”

“Yeah,” Luka mumbled, not so sure that was realistic.

“…So…was that what you came here to tell me, or…?” Marinette shifted awkwardly, reaching up to tuck a stray bang back behind her ear. “Did you need something?”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” Luka turned around and grabbed the garbage bags full of Marinette belongings that he’d set down next to the door out in the hall. “I was cleaning the flat, and I found some of your stuff. I thought I’d better return it.”

“Oh,” Marinette replied, feeling off kilter as she accepted the bags. “Thank you.”

“I also came because…” He bit the inside of his cheek. “I need to talk to Plagg.”

She winced and shifted her weight again. “I mean, you can try, but…Plagg hasn’t been himself in years. He doesn’t like to come out of the Miracle Box, and he doesn’t like to talk.”

“He’ll want to talk to me,” Luka assured. “I have a message from Adrien for him.”

Marinette’s eyes widened, and she stepped out of the way to let Luka into the apartment. “That…may change things.”

“I hope so,” Luka sighed, running a hand through his hair as he followed Marinette up the steps to her room. “He’s not mad at Adrien for giving him up, is he?”

Marinette shook her head. “He’s mad at himself for not taking care of Adrien better.”

Luka snorted at that. “I’m sure he did his best. Plagg was the closest thing Adrien ever had to a father.”

“…How is Adrien, by the way?” Marinette inquired hesitantly, feeling somewhat better about asking now that Luka had introduced Adrien as a topic of conversation himself.

Luka exhaled slowly. “He’s…a little rough, but he’s going to be okay. He’s safe now, and things are going to get better.”

“Do you think he hates me?” she blurted out, pushing her trapdoor open and then turning around to look at Luka nervously once she was through it.

Luka rolled his eyes, brushing aside her same old fear. “Marinette, I’ve told you a dozen times that he’d never hold you getting his father arrested against you. He helped.”

“What about for keeping my identity a secret?” she pressed, needing to be sure.

Luka shook his head. “That’s probably a complicated subject that you two will have to figure out between yourselves, but he did say he wanted to get back in touch with you, so he obviously doesn’t hate you.”

She heaved an enormous sigh of relief, a hopeful smile filtering onto her lips. “Thank you, Luka.”

He returned her smile with a tired one of his own that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He knew what would happen when Marinette and Adrien reunited. Just because Adrien wasn’t ready for any kind of relationship now didn’t change the fact that he and Marinette would end up together eventually.

And then Luka would lose them both to one another, just like he’d always feared.

“Anyway!” Marinette quickly changed the subject, heading over to her sewing box and retrieving the Miracle Box. “You’re here to see Plagg.”

She pulled out the Black Cat Miraculous and handed it to Luka. “He’ll only come out when summoned by his Miraculous, so you have to put on the ring.”

Hesitantly, Luka took the Miraculous, and it changed to resemble the silver and black ring he used to wear.

Once he slipped it on, a droopy, irritated-looking Plagg appeared in a flash of green light.

“You rang?” he grumbled, making no secret of how put out he felt.

“Hi, Plagg. I need to talk to you, if that’s okay,” Luka greeted.

“Make it quick,” the kwami snorted. “You’ve got ten seconds.”

Luka looked to Marinette. “May I speak in private with him?”

Marinette shrugged, making her way back towards the trapdoor. “I’ll be downstairs when you’re done.”

Luka waited until the door was closed behind her and he heard her footsteps fade before turning back to Plagg.

“Sorry. Adrien isn’t ready for people to know he’s back in Paris yet, so I didn’t want her to overhear,” Luka explained. “Do you want to see Adrien, Plagg? I can take you to him.”

The kwami’s ears and tail perked straight up.

“You know where he is?” Plagg demanded, buzzing around Luka’s head, flying this way and that in agitation. “Is he okay? Where is he?”

“He’s rough, but he’s safe,” Luka quelled Plagg’s fears. “He just moved in with me the other day.”

“Take me to him. Now,” Plagg commanded, a threatening edge to his words.

Luka held up his hands in a placating gesture. “He’s not ready to see you yet. He’s…”

He winced and repeated, “He’s in rough shape, Plagg. What I can do, though, is take you home with me, and you can see him from a distance until he’s ready to see you face to face again. How does that sound?”

Plagg rolled his eyes and crossed his stubby arms. “Why is he not ready to see me?”

Luka shrugged helplessly. “I’m not sure I fully understand it myself. I asked him if he wanted me to go get you, and it looked like he wanted to say yes, but he said no, that he wasn’t ready to face you. He also said something about not feeling worthy of having a Miraculous.”

Plagg snorted hotly at that. “This is all That Man’s fault. He never treated Adrien right. He did everything in his power to erode Adrien’s self-confidence.”

Luka nodded, commiserating. “I’m going to try my best to help with that, but Adrien’s been through a lot, and he just needs a little time before you two are reunited.”

“Fine,” Plagg decided. “I don’t care. I just need to see him for myself and make sure he’s okay.” His voice softened as he added, “…He wasn’t okay last time I saw him.”

Luka nodded sympathetically.

“Take me to him,” Plagg repeated with an air of certainty.

“Okay,” Luka breathed. “Now, I just have to figure out what to tell Marinette.”

Plagg rolled his eyes and waved Luka’s concern away. “I’ll explain it to her.”

To Plagg’s credit, when they went downstairs to confront Marinette, he simply informed her, “I’m going with him.”

Marinette blinked in confusion for almost a solid minute but eventually shrugged. “Okay. Be good, though. Don’t cause Luka problems.”

“I never cause problems,” Plagg insisted.

“My dinosaurs,” Tikki peeked her head out to hiss.

“They had it coming,” Plagg replied, easily shrugging it off.

Tikki let out a bellicose scream and launched herself at Plagg, beginning to chase him around the room as he cackled.

“Wait,” Luka interrupted. “What do you mean ‘okay’? You’re just letting me take Plagg?”

Marinette gave her ex a watery smile, pointedly ignoring the frolicking kwamis. “He’s been moping for years now. He clearly wants to go with you. Why would I stop him?”

“This is why she’s the best Guardian ever,” Plagg praised, flying over to give Marinette’s cheek a sloppy lick.

“Plagg,” Marinette scolded through a shriek of laughter.

“She is the best, isn’t she?” Tikki cooed, perching on Marinette’s shoulder and smiling warmly to see her other half acting like himself again.

Luka almost agreed, but he caught himself. “…Well. I have to get going, but thank you so much. And thank you for trusting me with Plagg. Take care of yourself, Chanson.”

“You too, Bluebird.” She leaned in, giving him an air kiss to either side of his face. “I hope I hear from you soon.”

Once in his car, Luka texted Adrien that he was heading home and informed Plagg that Nino was there and had just had his reunion with Adrien.

He spent the entire drive white-knuckling the steering wheel as Plagg flitted energetically about the vehicle.

“You’re going to make me crash,” Luka sighed when they stopped at a light. “Could you please take a seat?”

Luka wasn’t sure if it were better or worse when Plagg landed on top of his head, but he decided to refrain from commenting.

Nino and Adrien were sprawled on the couch when Luka returned to the apartment, their limbs intertwined in a way that made a flame of jealousy flicker to life in Luka’s chest.

Nino was showing Adrien pictures on his phone while telling Adrien anecdotes that made Adrien laugh so hard he had to lean on Nino for support.

The laughter faded when Luka opened the door.

“Nino, why don’t you head on in to my room and get comfortable?” Adrien suggested, disentangling himself from his friend and getting to his feet to go to Luka.

Nino gave a salute and promptly made himself scarce.

“Hey,” Adrien nervously greeted, coming to stand awkwardly in front of Luka, rocking back and forth from the balls of his feet onto his heels.

“Hey?” Luka responded uncertainly. “Everything okay? You having fun catching up with Nino?”

Adrien nodded vehemently. “Oh, yeah. Yeah. No. It’s great. Everything’s great. I just…are you okay?”

Luka blinked, taken aback by the question. “Uh…yeah. Why do you ask?”

Adrien bit his bottom lip. “I saw that you took some of your ex-girlfriend’s stuff with you. Did you go see her? Are you okay?”

Luka’s mouth rounded into a little “o” of surprise. “Um…yes. Yes, I did see her. It…went well, actually.”

Adrien’s shifty attitude immediately evaporated, and a soft smile spread across his lips. “Oh, good. I’m really glad to hear that. And how are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Luka replied honestly with a shrug and a sigh. “Sad. Relieved. Like I’m making a huge mistake…. It was good that I saw her and talked to her, though.”

“Good,” Adrien repeated, pulling Luka into a bolstering hug. “I’m so proud of you. That was really brave, and I’m glad it went well.”

Luka softened into Adrien’s embrace, letting himself enjoy it. “Thank you, P5.”

He kept to himself the fact that he’d only been able to do it because he’d been doing it for Adrien.

He gave Adrien a squeeze and then pulled back. “I’m kind of wiped, so I’m going to my room to rest. Let me know if you need anything, but you and Nino have a good time, okay?”

“Will do,” Adrien assured with a brilliant grin reminiscent of a young child heading out to the park to play. “I’m making chocolate cheesecake in the rice cooker at the moment, and it should be done in about an hour. Do you want me to let you know when it’s ready?”

“Uh… Sure,” Luka agreed, reasoning that Plagg would probably enjoy a slice, even if Luka didn’t particularly feel like dessert. “Thanks, Adrien.”

“Sure thing.” Adrien gave another bright smile before heading to his room after Nino.

“He’s not eating enough cheese,” Plagg bemoaned once they were sequestered in the privacy of Luka’s room. “He’s so skinny!”

“Don’t worry,” Luka coaxed, tentatively reaching out to scratch behind Plagg’s ear like he’d seen Adrien do in the past. “He’s only been here a day. He’ll fill out with time now that he has a secure source of food. I’ll make sure he eats.”

“You’d better,” Plagg threatened even as he accepted the scritches.

Plagg managed to go a little over twenty-four hours before outing himself.

He kept hidden while Nino was over and all during the next day, even through band rehearsal.

He woke up in the early hours of the morning his second night in the apartment and phased through the walls of Luka’s room and the intervening bathroom in order to check on Adrien.

His kitten was shifting in his sleep, muttering as he dreamed. He clutched a black cat plushie to his chest that reminded Plagg of the one Adrien had had from childhood and kept in his room back at the Agreste Mansion.

A sad smile tugged at the corners of Plagg’s mouth as a warm feeling welled up in his chest.

He didn’t see the harm in flying in for a closer look…until Adrien blinked his bleary eyes open.

“Plagg?” he asked sleepily reaching out and gently shepherding the kwami in to rest on Adrien’s chest next to the stuffed animal.

“I miss you,” he mumbled as he drifted back to sleep.

“Oh, Adrien,” Plagg whispered, getting choked up despite himself. “I missed you too.”

He gave Adrien’s chest a nuzzle, making Adrien spring back out of the bed and onto the floor with a yelp, suddenly wide awake.

Plagg floated over to peer over the edge of the bed, lime green eyes glowing in the dark. “You okay, Kid?”

“Plagg?!” Adrien gaped up at the kwami before looking around, taking in his surroundings and trying to ground himself. “Is this real?”

Plagg nodded sheepishly, beginning to come up with excuses to tell Luka as to how he’d gotten caught. “I’m as real as you are.”

“Oh my gosh…Plagg!” Adrien scrambled to his feet, scooping up his kwami and bringing him up to his face to nuzzle even as tears started to stream down his cheeks.

“Plagg, I’m so, so sorry. I never should have thrown you away like that. I don’t know if you can ever forgive him, but I’m sorry. I regretted it instantly, and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t wish I could take it back,” Adrien insisted desperately, the words coming out of his mouth as hard and fast as his tears.

Plagg reached out and put a paw over Adrien’s lips, lightly chiding, “Kid…it’s okay.”

Adrien shook his head. “It wasn’t okay. Plagg, nothing’s been okay these past four years.”

Plagg arched an eyebrow. “Are you still a drama queen, or how worried do I need to be about you exactly?”

A bashful smile peeked out behind Adrien’s distress as he admitted, “Okay. Maybe I’m being a little overdramatic, but…things have been really bad, Plagg. Some days I was glad I was all alone in the world because I didn’t think I could bear for anyone to see what had become of me.”

“Oh, Adrien,” Plagg cooed, flying up to nestle in Adrien’s hair and starting to purr soothingly. “I screwed up too.”

“What?” Adrien breathed, trying to look up and see Plagg’s expression.

“If you ever tell anyone about this, I’ll deny it, but you have to know that I screwed up too,” Plagg repeated, gently stroking Adrien’s hair. “Nothing that happened was just your fault…so I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I let you down.”

“You didn’t,” Adrien protested, getting back up into bed and fishing Plagg out of his hair.

“I did,” Plagg insisted wearily, not fighting as Adrien brought Plagg to his chest to cuddle. “…but let’s not play the blame game, okay? We can’t change what happened, after all.”

“Yeah,” Adrien sighed, settling back in. “I guess you’re right…but…you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Plagg snorted. “Do you forgive me?”

“I never held anything against you,” Adrien scoffed.

“All right, then,” Plagg declared with finality.

“All right, then,” Adrien agreed softly, a tired smile spreading across his lips.

There was a beat of comfortable silence before Adrien broke it, demanding, “…How did you even get here? Did…?”

Adrien shook his head. “Luka went and got you for me.”

“Luka came and picked me up,” Plagg affirmed, nuzzling Adrien’s chest. “He’s too boring and mellow to be my holder, but he’s a good guy. Definitely one of Sass’s, but…I’m glad you ended up with him to look out for you.”

“I got lucky,” Adrien admitted. “I got really, really lucky running into him…and I think he’s lucky he ran into me too.”

“Well, duh, but how do you figure exactly?” Plagg hummed, looking up quizzically at Adrien.

“He’s going through a rough breakup right now,” Adrien informed, a cloudy expression rolling onto his face. “He could use someone to look out for him too…and I’m much more capable than I was when you last saw me,” Adrien rushed to assure. “I can do all kinds of things now like cook and clean and fix things.”

Plagg nodded. “I know you’ve gained some new skills. I had some of that chocolate cheesecake you made, and it was exquisite.”

“Yeah?” Adrien chuckled, a pleased blushing rising in his cheeks.

“Yeah,” Plagg confirmed softly. “…I’m proud of you, Adrien.”

Adrien drew in a quiet gasp, eyes going wide even as they started to mist over. “You are?”

Plagg nodded, flying up to pat Adrien on the head. “I’ve always been really proud of you. I’m sorry I never told you that.”

Adrien scooped Plagg up and cradled him to his chest again, needing the contact. “Thank you. That makes me really happy to hear that. I didn’t think anyone ever was, no matter how hard I tried to be perfect.”

Plagg mentally kicked himself (not for the first or last time) for always being so tsundere and aloof with Adrien.

In a feeble attempt to start making up for lost time, Plagg gave Adrien’s chest another nuzzle and started another round of purring.

“…I love you, Plagg,” Adrien whispered, giving a weak purr in return.

“I love you too, Adrien,” Plagg confessed, dropping all pretenses. “I really missed you.”

“I’m sorry I can’t buy you expensive Camembert anymore,” Adrien choked through laughter and tears.

Plagg scoffed. “It was never about the Camembert.”

“Part of me knew that, but it’s nice to hear you say it out loud,” Adrien admitted with a lopsided grin.

“Don’t get used to it,” Plagg grumbled, the embarrassment of admitting to having feelings finally catching up with him.

Adrien smiled wider and began to scratch between Plagg’s ears. “It’s a good thing Luka is rich now. He can buy you the kind of cheese you’re used to.”

“I’d eat cheap, sliced cheese if it meant I could be with you again,” Plagg muttered. “Never disappear like that on me again.”

“I won’t,” Adrien promised. “I’m sorry, Plagg.”

“Yeah,” Plagg sighed. “Me too. Now, go to sleep. You look all sickly; you need your rest.”

“Night, night,” Adrien whispered, closing his eyes and drifting off as he petted from the top of Plagg’s head down his back rhythmically, over and over until he fell back asleep.

The next morning, he woke up early and relished the feeling of Plagg curled up in his hair while Adrien made breakfast.

Having his kwami back by his side made him feel more like himself than he had in years.

When Luka emerged from his room looking like a zombie, Adrien sprinted to Luka’s side and threw his arms around him.

“You’re the absolute best, and I can’t tell you how much I love you for going and getting Plagg back for me,” he gushed into Luka’s shoulder. “Thank you, Orpheus.”

Luka returned the hug and then pulled back with a tired smile. “You’re very welcome. I’m glad I could help make you so happy.”

He removed the ring from his finger and reached out for Adrien’s hand, slipping the Miraculous onto Adrien’s right ring finger.

“There,” Luka decreed as he surveyed his work. “Back where it belongs.”

“I won’t throw it away twice,” Adrien swore, eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you for bringing Plagg back to me. I’ll never forget this. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you, but…I won’t forget everything you’ve done for me.”

Luka reached out and ruffled Adrien’s hair with a fond smile. “Don’t mention it, Perfect Fifth…but if you share some of whatever you’re cooking with me, we can call it even.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “I made enough for the both of us to start with.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Luka chuckled as Adrien tugged him over to the kitchen. “You’re a godsend.”

A grin of pride quickly spread across Adrien’s lips, and a pleased blush dotted his cheeks with colour.

“I’m glad you think so. Keep reminding me, okay?” he chuckled.

Plagg, meanwhile, rolled his eyes, muttering, “Not this mutual pining garbage again,” as he dug into his all-cheese omelet.

#Lukadrien #Miraculous Ladybug #Luka Couffaine #Adrien Agreste #Plagg #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Hurt/Comfort #Fluff #Friendship #Friends to Lovers #Slow Burn #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Reunion #Mikau's Writings #Zebras Can't Change Their Stripes

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stayarmytinyzenmoa-l · 3 years

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Can I request a zemblanity reaction to y/n wanting to break up or take a break from them?

Oooooh angst hehe, yes of course you can ask this!

Zemblanity!WayV Reacts to (Y/N) wanting to break up

Zemblanity AU

TW: Arguments, Mentions of Previous Character Death

CW: Major spoilers to my series Zemblanity if you haven’t read/finished it.

Genre: Angst

[Main Masterlist] | [Zemblanity Masterlist]

Word Count: 0.7K

Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idol(s) mentioned/written/implied would never partake in or condone these actions. I would never wish any of these actions to occur to anyone mentioned in the writings of this story, nor do I wish any harm on them. The idols mentions in this work are meant to be acknowledged as no more than face claims and are not meant to represent the idols in any way.

Qian Kun

I think he’d be in disbelief. As soon as the words left your mouth he’d think that he just heard you wrong and would ask you to repeat it, but once you say it much more clear I think it will become apparent. He would be a mix of anger, sadness, and shock, most likely. But he wouldn’t fight you, he was always one to put you first, and he’d let you go. If only you remembered what you both went through together, maybe you’d reconsider, but Kun wasn’t depraved enough to make you remember that.

“If that’s what you want, who am I to say no?”

Lee Ten

He’d find it funny, I think, and maybe a tad bit amusing. You clearly didn’t know who’s in charge here, didn’t you? He’d certainly let you go, but he’d find a way to bring you back to him, and the best part? You’d never know it was him. A series of perfectly aligned coincidences would bring you back to him, he’d be sure of it, and this time, he won’t let you go so easily. He hasn’t had this much fun since he first started and, oh, how he loves to relive the memories.

“There, there, I’m so sorry, love, you didn’t deserve to be cheated on like that by him, but don’t worry, I’m here.”

Dong Sicheng

I thought we long established that Sicheng would do anything for you, and he has. So when he got home and you told him you wanted to take a break you could very clearly see that his world came crashing down in his eyes alone. You have no idea, no idea what he’s been through just for you, just to repent for what he did to you, and this is what you do to him? Without a word, he’d open the door for you, hell, he’d even pack your things for you if you didn’t yourself and he’d just say:

“Then leave.”

Huang Xuxi

He’d think you’re joking at first, after everything you’ve been through? He’s not even talking about what happened at the Sector, he’s talking about everything before. Falling in love, all the late nights, the times spent on your roof, in his trailer, running away together, fuck, making a whole life for yourselves. And now here you were, asking for a break. He wouldn’t get it, he couldn’t understand, but, if it was for you, he’d let you go.

“Alright, do me a favor then. Tell your dad that he was right.”

Xiao Dejun

Surprised too. You both have your arguments, but he didn’t think it’d ever lead to, well, this. He really loves you, like really loves you, and if you could just remember what happened in the Sector then you’d know how much shit he went through just to have you standing in front of him again and, oh, that’s when it’d hit him. How could you be so ungrateful. Granted, you didn’t remember, maybe he’d have to make you. Hopefully, Yangyang didn’t throw that key away.

“You have no idea what I’ve done for you, my love. Why don’t I remind you?”

Huang Guanheng

He’d let you go. That’s it. He had always had a feeling that you were too good for him, too perfect, when he himself was riddled with mistakes and imperfections, how could he have deluded himself into thinking he deserved you? Deep down he always knew this, didn’t he? That you were too good for him? But, once you’re gone, you’d feel the repercussions in a different way. After all, the wrath of an angered King will be felt by his people, whether they like it or not.

“Go ahead, I don’t know why I even thought we could have something, I apologize for wasting your time.”

Liu Yangyang

Before you are his girlfriend, you are his best friend. He always reminded himself of that. He’d let you go, he wouldn’t hold you back because he knows you better than that. But as soon as he woke up to the suffocating feeling of something soft crawling his way up his throat, he’d try a bit harder to get you back, and if you were being particularly difficult he might result to being more desperate about it. You have to understand, he can’t live without you. Literally.

“(Y/N), please come back. I promise to be better, can’t we do that? Don’t you love me?”

#nct #wayv #zemblanity #nct x reader #wayv x reader #zemblanity au #nct reactions #wayv reactions #my writings #requests

36 notes · View notes

alinaastarkov · 4 years

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Jonryas and Jonsas are one and the same. You both try to delude yourselves into your ship being Canon, even through the books are clearly going into the Jonerys route. Plus, shipping a brother with a sibling is so Gross. You are all sick in the head

(I know I’ve already used this gif but this was my legit reaction to reading this so)

Jonsas are pulling evidence out of their ass and using the show which doesn’t count, Jonryas have the quote “What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister?” We are not the same.

Now, hun, my three favourite characters in the series are Dany, Jon and Arya, and I have no problem with Jonerys or Jonerys shippers because, for the most part they’re harmless (except for you). I do not agree that they are going to fall in love, obviously. There’s only two books left, and Dany won’t arrive in Westeros for a while, so I don’t see how GRRM is going to fit this ‘epic romance’ in that time. I know there is foreshadowing that Jon and Dany will meet and both play significant roles in the War against the Others, but romance? No. They’ve never met, they’ve never spoken, they’ve never seen each other, they have no relationship beyond speculation and similar personalities. Meanwhile, Jon just DIED for Arya. Like, literally died. for. her. That’s some next level romantic shit, and GRRM has made it so painfully obvious how much they love each other I’m surprised this is still up for debate. He’s hitting us over the head with brick that has “JONRYA IS CANON” written on the side and people are still like “jOnRyA iS gRoSs GeOrGe WoUlD nEvEr!”

Are we really still talking about incest being gross? Really? In asoiaf? That ship sailed long ago. Bran’s second chapter in AGOT, to be precise. And if we’re sick in the head, what does that make you? Shipping an aunt and nephew?? Hun, look at yourself in the mirror before you criticise me, bitch.

I get along with a lot of jonerys shippers. I don’t mind it cause they understand the books well generally. But give me one piece of Jonerys evidence that specifically says Jon and Dany are/ are gonna fall in love. Go ahead.

Until, then enjoy all these quotes that loosely translate to “I’m right you’re wrong”:

Suddenly [Arya] looked like she was going to cry. “I wish you were coming with us.” “Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle. Who knows?” He was feeling better now. He was not going to let himself be sad.

The memory of her laughter warmed him on the long ride north.

He remembered the day he had left Winterfell, all the bittersweet farewells; Bran lying broken, Robb with snow in his hair, Arya raining kisses on him after he’d given her Needle.

Lord Eddard Stark sighed. “My nine-year-old daughter is being armed from my own forge, and I know nothing of it. […] How is it that you come to own a sword, Arya? Where did you get this?” Arya chewed her lip and said nothing. She would not betray Jon, not even to their father.

“Lumpyhead,” corrected Lommy. “He prob’ly stole it.” “I did not!” she shouted. Jon Snow had given her Needle. Maybe she had to let them call her Lumpyhead, but she wasn’t going to let them call Jon a thief.

Mikken’s mark was on the blade. It’s just a sword. If she needed a sword, there were a hundred under the temple. Needle was too small to be a proper sword, it was hardly more than a toy. She’d been a stupid little girl when Jon had it made for her. “It’s just a sword,” she said, aloud this time… …but it wasn’t. Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell’s grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan’s stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow’s smile. He used to mess my hair and call me “little sister,” she remembered, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes.

“First lesson,” Jon said. “Stick them with the pointy end.” Arya gave him a whap on the arm with the flat of her blade. The blow stung, but Jon found himself grinning like an idiot. “I know which end to use,” Arya said.

All she could think of was the lesson Jon had given her. “Stick them with the pointy end,” she blurted out.

Everything Syrio Forel had ever taught her vanished in a heartbeat. In that instant of sudden terror, the only lesson Arya could remember was the one Jon Snow had given her, the very first.

In her hand, Needle seemed to whisper to her. Stick them with the pointy end, it said, and, don’t tell Sansa!

He’d had Mikken make a sword for Arya once, a bravo’s blade, made small to fit her hand. Needle. He wondered if she still had it. Stick them with the pointy end, he’d told her, but if she tried to stick the Bastard, it could mean her life.

Would she still have that little sword he’d had Mikken forge for her? Stick them with the pointy end, he’d told her.

[…] She yearned to see her mother again, and Robb and Bran and Rickon…but it was Jon Snow she thought of most. She wished somehow they could come to the Wall before Winterfell, so Jon might muss up her hair and call her “little sister.” She’d tell him, “I missed you,” and he’d say it too at the very same moment, the way they always used to say things together. She would have liked that. She would have liked that better than anything.

Maybe I should go to the Wall instead of Riverrun. Jon wouldn’t care who I killed or whether I brushed my hair…

Her home was gone, her parents dead, and all her brothers slain but Jon Snow on the Wall. That was where she had wanted to go. She told the captain as much, but even the iron coin did not sway him. Arya never seemed to find the places she set out to reach.

He missed his true brothers: […] Robb, his rival and best friend and constant companion. […] And Arya … he missed her even more than Robb, skinny little thing that she was, all scraped knees and tangled hair and torn clothes, so fierce and willful. Arya never seemed to fit, no more than he had … yet she could always make Jon smile. He would give anything to be with her now, to muss up her hair once more and watch her make a face, to hear her finish a sentence with him.

[Jon] remembered suddenly how he used to muss Arya’s hair. His little stick of a sister. He wondered how she was faring. It made him a little sad to think that he might never muss her hair again.

[…] “I know where we could go,” Arya said. She still had one brother left. Jon will want me, even if no one else does. He’ll call me “little sister” and muss my hair.

Arya missed Jon most of all. Just saying his name made her sad.

She wondered if [Jon] would still call her “little sister.” I’m not so little anymore. He’d have to call me something else.

[…] She missed Jon Snow the most of all her brothers.

Ygritte watched and said nothing. […] She looked plump as she crouched there, but most of that was layers of fur and wool and leather. Underneath all that she could be as skinny as Arya.

[Ygritte] reminded him a little of his sister Arya, though Arya was younger and probably skinnier. It was hard to tell how plump or thin Ygritte might be, with all the furs and skins she wore.

What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister?

“If you kill a man, and never mean t’, he’s just as dead,” Ygritte said stubbornly. Jon had never met anyone so stubborn except maybe for his little sister Arya.

“Roose Bolton summons all leal lords to Barrowton, to affirm their loyalty to the Iron Throne and celebrate his son’s wedding to…” His heart seemed to stop for a moment. No, that is not possible. She died in King’s Landing, with Father.

His fingers closed around the parchment. Would that they could crush Ramsay Bolton’s throat as easily.

Jon Snow sank to one knee in the snow. Gods of my fathers, protect these men. And Arya too, my little sister, wherever she might be. I pray you, let Mance find her and bring her safe to me.

Bring her home, Mance. I saved your son from Melisandre, and now I am about to save four thousand of your free folk. You owe me this one little girl.

The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart.

Jon flexed the fingers of his sword hand. The Night’s Watch takes no part. He closed his fist and opened it again. What you propose is nothing less than treason. […] You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird’s nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell…I want my bride back…I want my bride back…I want my bride back…

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger’s hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. “Ghost,” he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold…

“If you kill a man, and never mean t’, he’s just as dead,” Ygritte said stubbornly. Jon had never met anyone so stubborn except maybe for his little sister Arya. Is she still my sister? he wondered. Was she ever?

“I have no sister.” The words were knives.

Jon had a certain grudging admiration for the late King-Beyond-the-Wall, but the man was an oathbreaker and a turncloak. He had even less trust in Melisandre. Yet somehow here he was, pinning his hopes on them. All to save my sister. But the men of the Night’s Watch have no sisters.

But they were all dead now, even Arya, everyone but her half-brother, Jon. Some nights she heard talk of him, in the taverns and brothels of the Ragman’s Harbor. The Black Bastard of the Wall, one man had called him. Even Jon would never know Blind Beth, I bet. That made her sad. (The Blind Girl, A Dance with Dragons)

It had been so long since he had last seen Arya. What would she look like now? Would he even know her?

“It wasn’t Longspear, then?” Jon was relieved. He liked Longspear, with his homely face and friendly ways. [Ygritte] punched him. “That’s vile. Would you bed your sister?” “Longspear’s not your brother.”

They are all convinced she is a princess. Val looked the part and rode as if she had been born on horseback. A warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.

He is a man of the Night’s Watch, she thought, as he sang about some stupid lady throwing herself off some stupid tower because her stupid prince was dead. The lady should go kill the ones who killed her prince.

And bitch that’s not even the half of it, honey

#jonrya #neve has mail #asoiaf #jon snow #arya stark #i don't want to say anti jonerys shippers #cause most of ya'll are swell and we get on #i follow a bunch of you #but all fandoms have assholes and this is no exception #i'm sorry to my friends in that fandom cause this idiot is making you look bad

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forgedcold · 4 years

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@eloquent-music answered:

“That is where you’re wrong. My existence meant something. Your words cannot break me no matter how hard you try to. You may have taken advantage of my loyalty and utter devotion. But riddle me this, if you desired to change, then why dismantle a Cause so many fought, sacrificed, and died for as if it meant nothing to you? You cast us aside as if none of us meant a thing to you. An act of selfishness when so many were so selfless. I was not the only Decepticon who was furious with you, you know. Wearing the badge of the enemy, the ones who tried to continue to degrade us. The ones who still see us Decepticons on unequal ground. That is something you never stood for. If you would’ve become a NAIL, that would’ve been far more appropriate. Plus, I could think of many different ways you could have ended it better. I’m not upset or angry with you anymore. I am utterly disappointed. I have moved on with my life without you in it.”

“One solar cycle I may wish to change but I have yet to be in that mindset. Not that you nor your new acquaintances care.” No one really for that matter would care because who cared about the DJD? “The Script and Cause is all I have known. It is my livelihood, my purpose in life. The Cause was bigger than you--bigger than all of us. I do not need to be redeemed for what I have done in my life. I do not need to be accepted into a society whom already hates me. That is not satisfaction, not a life worth being a part of. Laying down and begging for forgiveness for what I believe in is not something I am willing to do. I am proud to be who I am and no one can tear that from me because I am and always will be a Decepticon.”

“If there ever comes the time where a mech wishes to guide me into a better life without the Cause in it, takes the steps to flourish and nourish it into something more, then I am open to that opportunity. Your past is never forgotten, it is always with you like it is with me. I embrace everything I have ever done, even if I wasn’t--. Err. I carry that weight on my shoulders each and every cycle. Like I said, I do not have to have a life of redemption to feel better about myself unlike you. I embrace who I am and fuck whoever else. My life is much better off with well over ninety-five percent of our living population being terrified of me. I enjoy my solitude.”

“I have the power to change like you said but I do not wish to. I do not back down in order to be accepted. All I need is my music to keep my happiness. A life of solitude with myself and the rest of my team you abandoned so easily--because that is what phantoms do. Live in the shadows and continuously haunt the lives of others.”

A terrible part of him wants to laugh at Tarn’s blindness; a more empathetic part is only aware of a bitter and scathing sense of remorse. “When I led the Decepticons, at what point did you actually think I cared? That any of you meant anything?” he asks, voice condescendingly calm. “Was it when I turned my own soldiers into bombs to use as cannon fodder? Was it when I made know-nothing fools into phasesixers? Or was it when I made you only for the purpose of inspiring fear so that no one would dare betray me? You call yourselves selfless, yet you were all gutless to stand against me, an actual force of hatred and oppression. Don’t fool yourself, Tarn; Decepticons overthrew morality along with the government that oppressed us. What we sustained was nothing more than hatred, and the only value you held was as a weapon to a violent agenda.”

Megatron sneers, the irony sour in his mouth. Had all remaining Decepticons become so bloated and delusional with self-pity? How pathetically sickening. “All I see is a wallowing nothing who deludes himself into thinking he’s actually something; my dear acolyte, you do not terrify. Continue to sift through the ashes of an empire if it suits you; disappointment will never fill the hole I left.”

A ragged vent falls from his intake as the jagged edges of guilt threaten to sink into his spark. Furrowing his optical ridges, Megatron relents, voice softening. “When I was lost, I gave up everything to find who I was, even if it meant hurting everyone else around me. I realized I’d become a monster and becoming an Autobot was my attempt at building a cage. It was never my intention to disband the Decepticons; Optimus wrote the speech. I’d never felt more broken than after his words left my mouth. It took me years to realize he was right. The tragedy isn’t that I didn’t simply become neutral, it’s that Optimus and I didn’t work together to end the war, to show either side how to find peace through empathy.”

He pauses, hardly caring to explain that it was never about finding redemption, that at most he only ever wanted more time to enjoy the joy of happiness he unexpectedly found. As changed as he seemed, he wouldn’t deny the greed of knowing such unadulterated bliss. And Tarn — Megatron doesn’t cling to any sort of hope that his words have moved him in any capacity.

“If you could choose to become anyone, wouldn’t you choose to become who you’ve always been denied: yourself?”

A pause.

“Damus.”

#&; rp #eloquentmusic

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demondarlington · 6 years

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an in depth analysis on why elizabeth and mr darcy are not remotely similar to rey and k*lo:

to understand why there is not even one similar strand when it comes to these relationships, it’s important to discuss who these characters are, at their very core.

elizabeth bennet has four sisters, a mother, and a father. her family is quirky, and there are some issues that are the source of unhappiness for her mother. but honestly, her entire family is generally pretty happy, and well situated. they are by no means wealthy, but they’re firmly middle-class. elizabeth herself only ever refers to marriage in a sarcastic tone until she starts to fall in love with darcy. but most of the novel is dedicated towards her feelings towards her sisters, her parents, and her best friend charlotte. in short, elizabeth isn’t searching for anything. she isn’t waiting for anything. she’s literally out there enjoying her best life, not starving for food, and certainly not actively seeking out acceptance and belonging. she’s sarcastic, and witty, and there is a comfortable and confident manner in which she addresses every situation.

fitzwilliam darcy has a younger sister, and his parents have died. his father, from all recollections of him, was incredibly kind, and instilled good virtues into his son. of course, darcy doesn’t always boast those great manners, as he weaves in and out of pridefulness. however, at his core, he is very much a kind gentleman, who loves his sister, and literally would never imagine harming anyone in his life. let alone something like murder. as we learn more about darcy, as our first glances of him lend nothing to his character, and we presume that he is literally just a dick. just a rich bougie dick. the truth couldn’t be further from that assumption. we find out that he has issues with social interaction. he’s shy. unsure. his reservations are based solely on the fact that despite all of the grandeur in his life, he lacks the very basics for human connection. but he changes. he takes elizabeth’s advice, when she’s sitting at that piano, and he practices. he fixes the mistakes he has made, and despite how hard overcoming social anxiety may be, he returns to the essence of what his father wanted him to be.

now the relationship of these two is really where the differences become more than just a little apparent. it is right that darcy made a proposal and made a complete ass out of himself. he wrongly assumed elizabeth’s feelings, and elizabeth in turn, rejected him in the most bomb ass way imaginable. don’t ask me how it’s possible to love a rejection and a proposal so much at the same time, but it is. however, his reaction to all of this is to not bite back. to not further try to throw himself at her. instead, darcy writes her a letter. he explains his viewpoint. he explains what’s happening with mr wickham. he takes complete ownership over his action. there is no deflecting here. i think this is what makes darcy stand out from other romantic heroes. to continue on, especially on elizabeth’s side, she doesn’t forgive him for what he did with jane and bingley. but i do think she was smart enough to understand why he did it. elizabeth can be emotional, but sometimes she can be downright cold in her intelligence. the biggest change i think was simply seeing darcy with his sister, and meeting georgiana in general. she was able to see him in his comfort zone, in a place where he could be vulnerable, but not for vulnerabilities sake. and not only was elizabeth able to see darcy in a new context, but darcy was able to present his real self. his true self. the one stripped away from the outward insecurities. of course, it isn’t until after the lydia situation is handled, jane and bingley are finally engaged, and catherine de bourgh shows up, that these two idiots finally have the courage and understanding to recognize that their feelings have either changed or grown stronger. but this is the very important part of the final proposal. darcy tells elizabeth that this is the last time he’ll proposal. if she says no then he’s going to leave her alone. HE RESPECTS BOUNDARIES. she, of course, accepts him. but not because of the bad he had done, but for how he proved himself to be the man he always should have been.

but lets recap. elizabeth has a family. a loving family. she isn’t out searching for her place anywhere. she’s content, and confident, and there is no need for her to even bother being with someone else. darcy isn’t cruel. he certainly isn’t a murderer. and he, above all, loves his fucking family. that is his greatest attribute. can you even for one second imagine him being responsible for killing his father? the dude couldn’t even give wickham a swift punch, and he deserved that shit.

rey is someone who has been looking for where she belongs. her family is gone. it isn’t until she meets finn that there is some kind of understanding that there is a future where she isn’t starving to death, collecting garbage. k*lo kills his dad. he massacres children. he joins a n*zi organization. he looks up to a false image of his grandfather. he tortures rey. he attempts to murder her new found family. and then all of a sudden he cries a little and expresses some doubt, and our asses are supposed to forgive that, and then compare him to fitzwilliam darcy?

the connection between rey and k*lo isn’t some grand thing that means they’re meant to be together. in fact, it means that they are meant to be in opposition, just how the end of tlj set them up to be. so stop deluding yourselves. stop comparing them to roles in which they don’t even remotely fit.

mr darcy and elizabeth bennet would give k*lo the sickest burn in the galaxy, and that murdering brat couldn’t do shit about it.

#anti r*ylo #anti k*lo #pride and prejudice #alyssa talks #swearing tw

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queenofthyme · 7 years

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#teddy #auror #unresolved sexual tension

Prompts: @foxesandwands Author: @queenofthyme

If you had told Harry Potter, back in his first year of Hogwarts, that he’d be sharing custody of a child with Draco Malfoy, he would have laughed. Loudly. But here he was, fifteen years later, and one of Teddy Lupin’s two legal guardians.

When Harry had accepted Remus’s offer to be Teddy’s godfather, although in the thick of war, he still never considered he’d actually have to raise someone else’s child. Teddy’s grandmother, Andromeda, had taken care of Teddy originally, which Harry was glad of - a 17 year old did not a father make. Still, he made sure to visit often. He knew what it was like to grow up without parents.

Harry wasn’t surprised that Draco visited just as often. Andromeda was his aunt after all, making Teddy his first cousin once removed.

Harry didn’t make a fuss the first time they’d bumped into each other at Andromeda’s, even though the last time they’d seen each other had been at Hogwarts, in the middle of a war, on opposite sides. He trusted Andromeda, and if she, as fiercely protective as she was, trusted Draco around Teddy, that was enough for Harry to do the same. Although, he still watched closely, curious to understand Draco’s behaviour.

Years past and Andromeda grew weary. She had already raised one child, and she was far too old to be chasing after another. As godfather, Harry knew it was his responsibility to take over as Teddy’s guardian, and no longer a teenager, he felt like he was ready. But Draco had insisted that it was he who should become guardian, as a blood relative.

They had argued like they might have back in their Hogwarts days, with taunts and snide jabs, even a few hexes, before Andromeda put a stop to it. “How do either of you expect to raise a child if you still act like children yourselves?” She had yelled at them both, her words striking home as always.

Shared custody was Andromeda’s idea, but they both agreed it would be the best option for Teddy. He had already grown attached to both of them, and they both loved Teddy as if he was their own. On that, they were in agreement, if nothing else.

These days, they saw a lot of each other. Teddy made sure of that. They hadn’t quite reconciled all their differences, but they were civil, even polite to each other. They had to be for Teddy. But there was such a coldness to their interactions sometimes, that Harry wondered if it would be better if they just went at it, like they really wanted to. Said what they were really thinking.

Like that time when Draco dropped Teddy off at Harry’s office in the middle of a work day because he had an appointment, and Harry said, “Of course, no problem Draco. Please take your time,” but what he’d really wanted to say was, “You couldn’t have given me some warning so I could plan my day around this, you inconsiderate prat?”

Or the time Draco had taken Teddy on holiday and returned a day later than expected, and Harry said, “That’s okay, Draco, I’m glad you’re both back. I’m sure Teddy had a great time,” but what he’d really wanted to say was, “I thought you were both dead you selfish jerk, you never thought to owl ahead to let me know?”

Or last week when Draco had to reschedule their agreed custody routine because he had a date on Thursday night and Harry said, “Hope you have a lovely night,” but what he’d really wanted to say was, “I hope your date throws wine in your face and leaves you with the bill.”

It’s not like Teddy didn’t know what was going on. He was a perceptive kid. The whole situation was ridiculous.

When Draco picked up Teddy on Monday morning, he wasn’t particularly chatty. Harry thought better of asking him about the date, or engaging in any small talk at all.

However, the next time they saw each other, when Draco dropped Teddy back off at Harry’s office Friday afternoon, Harry’s curiosity got the better of him.

“How was your date?”

“Pleasant, thank you, Harry,” Draco said with the forced politeness that Harry utterly despised.

“It was awful. He brought roses!” Teddy added as he bounded into the room, taking up his favourite position on Harry’s desktop - right on top of his important case files.

Harry watched Draco’s face twist a little to the sour side as he was caught in a lie. Harry didn’t mind - he preferred it to the mask of politeness they usually wore around each other.

Harry turned to Teddy. “And what’s wrong with roses?” He asked.

Teddy shrugged. It was Draco that answered. “Red roses are a symbol of deep love. They’re hardly appropriate for a first date. What is he going to get me for the second, an engagement ring?”

“So you’re going out with him again?” Harry asked. Purely out of curiosity of course.

Draco scoffed. “Of course not. I’m simply saying if the man doesn’t know the proper stages of courting, it was never going to work.”

Harry stopped himself from laughing. “And what are the proper stages of courting?” He asked, trying to keep his voice serious.

Draco’s eyes narrowed, his eyes darting over to Teddy and back to Harry. “Why do you want to know?” He asked sharply.

There was something to his tone that made Harry want to continue. To see how far they could take the conversation before they ended up fighting. There was a thrill to a conversation like that. But Teddy was here so:

“I don’t,” Harry replied, replacing his mask. “Just making small talk.”

Draco nodded politely, following Harry’s lead. “Thanks for looking after Teddy last week.” He blew a kiss to Teddy. “Bye Teddy.” As was their custom, Teddy caught the kiss and placed it his his pocket. “Bye Harry,” Draco added, already halfway out the door.

Harry didn’t bother to reply. He couldn’t help but think that without their connection of Teddy, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter weren’t anything to each other anymore. Not even enemies.

Harry knew he shouldn’t, that he was overstepping, but the thought of Draco dating had thrown him and he itched to know more. He hadn’t known Draco to date anyone. Not that he was keeping track. But surely he would have heard.

Back in his apartment with Teddy, he asked as casually as he could over their traditional late Friday night bowl of cereal: “What else did Draco tell you about his date?”

“That he’s boring,” Teddy said between chomps, “That there was no chemist-tree and - “ Teddy burst into giggles spraying some of his milk across the table.

“What?”

Teddy kept giggling, dropping his spoon back into his bowl with a splash.

“Teddy…”

“He said,” Teddy said through his laughter, “that it would be like doing it - “ Teddy giggled especially hard at those words - “with a wooden plank.”

Harry dropped his own spoon to the table with a clatter. “He said that to you?”

Teddy shrugged, looking guilty now. “To Aunty Pans. I was supposed to be sleeping.”

Harry stood up, pushing his cereal aside. He’d had enough of playing polite with Draco.

“Harry? Where’s Teddy? Is something wrong?”

“Teddy’s fine,” Harry quickly clarified, stepping into the Manor. “He’s with Ron and Hermione.” Regardless of his anger, he knew the familiar anxiety of not knowing where your child was and wouldn’t wish that undue fear on anyone.

“Oh.” Draco closed the door and turned to Harry, crossing his arms, his demeanour instantly changing. “Then what are you doing here?”

“To tell you to stop having your dirty sex gossip with Pansy in earshot of Teddy.”

“My dirty sex gossip, what are you - “ Draco’s eyes grew wide. “Oh. What did he hear?”

“Just the sordid details of your date last week.”

Draco’s face flushed. “It’s not what it sounds like. The guy was terribly dull. I was just suggesting he was so bad that even you, in comparison only, would a better lay. That’s all. I didn’t mean that I want to - “

“You said what?” Harry interrupted, his mind ticking over into overdrive. Draco had been talking about having sex with him?

“Isn’t that what Teddy - “

“Not quite.”

There was a silence as they both processed Draco’s revelation. There were no masks tonight.

“Well,” Draco finally said in a cold drawl, “either way, it didn’t mean anything, so I wouldn’t overwork that tiny brain of yours thinking about it.”

“Tiny brain?” Harry repeated, trying not to show his thrill at the first insult thrown between them in years. “Is that the only insult you can come up with?” He goaded.

“No, actually,” Draco said with a sneer. “How about overbearing? Stubborn? Deluded?”

Harry laughed. “That’s nothing to you. Selfish. Arrogant. Inconsiderate. Entitled.” The words came out easy after years of holding them back.

“By all means, Potter, let it all out.”

Harry froze. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard…

“What?” Draco barked, obviously seeing something in Harry’s face.

“It’s just you called me Potter, I’m not used to - “

You don’t need to reprimand me,” Draco interrupted. “Teddy’s not around. No harm done.” He opened the door and put on a smile. “Thanks ever so much for stopping by, Harry. I’ll be sure to take your parenting advice into consideration.

Harry wasn’t quite sure how to act around Draco anymore. Things had changed between them. Not only did he know that Draco was discussing the thought of having sex with him with Pansy, but he’d also had a taste of their older arguments, and the supercharged feeling that came with them. He wanted more.

The following Monday when Draco picked Teddy up, Harry waited to see how Draco would act first. He was disappointed.

“Harry,” Draco said simply with a smile and a nod. Harry would have preferred a scowl.

“Draco,” Harry responded, mimicking the nod but not quite able to manage the fake smile.

As Draco turned to leave with Teddy, unplanned words tumbled out of Harry’s mouth. “Actually, Draco, wait.”

Draco paused in the doorway. “Yes?” His voice sounded strained. That was something, at least. Something more than cold politeness.

Harry said the only thing he could think of. “Happy birthday for tomorrow.”

Draco turned back, his mask still up, but something in his eyes. “You remembered.”

“Teddy told me.”

“No I didn’t,” Teddy corrected. Of course Harry couldn’t get anything past him.

“It happens every year,” Harry said quickly. “Of course I remembered.”

Draco’s lips twitched. “You didn’t last year.”

“Yes I did,” Harry said honestly. “I just didn’t know if you wanted me to say anything.”

“And now you don’t care what I want?” Draco questioned, an edge returning to his voice. Harry felt the familiar thrill, the anticipation of an uncensored conversation.

“Now I wanted to say something.”

There was a pause then in which Draco’s eyes darted to Teddy, sitting on Harry’s desk. Harry’s own followed. Teddy was staring back at both of them, he’d clearly been paying close attention to every word of their conversation.

“I’m having a dinner at the Manor with a few friends tomorrow to celebrate,” Draco said, back to his polite monotone. Harry looked back up to see the matching mask. “You should come.”

Come to his birthday dinner? Draco had never asked Harry to anything before. Did that mean Draco thought of him as a friend? Harry’s surprise, and an excitement he’d never admit aloud, must have been obvious in his face because Draco quickly clarified further.

“Teddy will need a responsible adult to look after him in case I have a few drinks.”

Harry nodded politely. “Sure,” he said, pulling on his fake smile.

The dinner was a write off. At least, in terms of spending time with Draco. Harry spent the entire time entertaining Teddy while listening to Draco gossip with his friends in the next room. Despite Draco telling him so quite plainly, he didn’t realise he’d been invited to play nanny. He had thought - or hoped - Draco was playing their game of saying things they didn’t really mean. But clearly not.

Harry tucked Teddy into bed while Draco saw his friends off. He figured he’d quietly slip away and avoid any awkward encounter with Draco - from what he’d overheard Draco was quite tipsy. With one last kiss to Teddy’s forehead, Harry turned to make his quick exit.

“Dad,” Teddy called out behind him.

Harry hadn’t realised he was still awake. He turned back to Teddy.

“You have to get rid of the boggart in my cupboard.”

Harry followed Teddy’s eyes to the tall cupboard opposite the bed. It was a needlessly grand thing with embellished edges and a gold rim, that Harry supposed could actually be real, considering the house - no, manor - he was in. More importantly though, it was still.

“There’s no boggart in there, Teddy,” Harry said gently.

“But daddy always gets rid of the boggart,” Teddy said, sitting up in bed.

“Every night?”

Teddy nodded, eyeing the cupboard suspiciously.

Harry supposed there was nothing else for it. He pulled out his wand and walked over to the closet. He opened the door just a crack at first - of course, no boggart appeared - before pulling it wide open. He turned to Teddy. “See, no boggart. You’re safe here, Teddy.”

Teddy shook his head. “No, you have to do the spell or it will escape!” He insisted.

Before Harry could react, Draco’s voice interrupted them. “Move aside, Harry, I can handle this,” he said, leaning by the doorway, his words a little slurred from the alcohol.

So much for quietly slipping away.

“Don’t scare him,” Harry whispered, moving to stand in front of Draco. He didn’t think humouring Teddy’s fears of the cupboard, which apparently Draco did every night, was the best parenting approach.

Draco rolled his eyes at Harry and pushed past him, brandishing his wand dramatically. “Where did it go, Teddy?” He stage-whispered. “Is it still in the cupboard?”

Teddy shook his head. “It escaped!”

Harry watched as Draco crept around the room, slowly, making a show of pointing his wand at every dark spot, and every corner. Teddy was watching too - his eyes following Draco’s every move with rapt attention.

“Is it” Draco whispered, eyes wide, “under the bed?”

Teddy jumped up. “It’s under the bed, it’s under the bed,” he chanted, clapping his hands together.

Draco nodded seriously to Teddy, his eyes darting over to Harry for a second, before he dropped down and rolled underneath. “It’s here, I’ll get it,” Draco called out, out of breath as if in a struggle, “Hold on, Teddy.”

From Harry’s vantage point by the door, he could clearly see Draco simply lying on his back alone under the bed, but Teddy standing above seemed convinced by the theatrics, especially when Draco let loose some colourful smoke from his wand that rose up above the bed.

Teddy jumped on the bed, eyeing the smoke excitedly - sleep would be well off now. “Did you get it? Did you get it?”

“Almost!” Draco let off some more smoke and rolled over to his side, facing Harry. He winked and then: “Riddikulus,” he shouted as a flash of light filled the room.

Harry couldn’t even process the fact that Draco had managed to cast a non-verbal spell while simultaneously saying the incantation to another spell aloud, because he was still hooked on the wink. Draco Malfoy had winked at him. A somewhat drunk Draco Malfoy had winked at him.

“Got it!” Draco confirmed, popping up beside Teddy, who was jumping on the bed enthusiastically, clapping his hands at the show. “But now you have to sleep.”

Teddy dropped down immediately, pulling himself under the covers.

“You know the spell?” Draco asked softly.

“Ridikkulus.”

Draco nodded. “Goodnight,” he said with a kiss to Teddy’s forehead.

“Night,” Teddy said sleepily, his eyes already closed.

Draco looked up at Harry watching him, and got to his feet a little clumsily, holding onto the bed for support. He smiled lazily. “You’re still here.”

Too late, Harry realised he’d been given the perfect opportunity to escape, but he’d been as enraptured in Draco’s performance as Teddy. “I’m leaving now.”

Draco sauntered over to Harry, the alcohol exaggerating his usual strut. “Aren’t you going to reprimand me for my terrible parenting?” He leant an arm against the doorframe by Harry’s head. “I know you want to.”

There was a silly giddiness to Draco’s demeanour that left Harry unsure whether Draco was starting an argument or flirting with him. Although it had to be the former. Obviously.

“It…wasn’t terrible,” Harry admitted. “We’re shouldn’t talk about this in front of Teddy,” he added as an afterthought, eyeing Teddy past Draco’s head. He certainly appeared to be asleep but Harry knew better than to believe it.

“Lead the way then, Potter,” Draco whispered, emphasising Harry’s last name like a dirty secret.

Harry didn’t let himself read into that too much. He’d already decided Draco was not flirting. Just tipsy. He turned his back on drunk Draco quickly and headed down to the Manor’s Sitting Room, careful to keep his gaze fixed ahead. Why did Draco have to be a giddy drunk? He could hardly fight Draco like this. Perhaps it would be better just to leave now. Why, then, was he not heading for the door?

Harry gave up on his internal battle and perched himself on the edge of an armchair when they reached the sitting room. He would leave soon.

“I suppose you’d have preferred it if I told him there was no boggart. That there’s nothing to be afraid of?” Draco said with a wave of his hand, slumping onto the couch opposite. He slipped down so most of his back was on the seat of the couch, his head tucked in close to his chest.

Harry hadn’t seen Draco like this before. The only time Draco lost his composure in front of Harry was during an argument - which explained the thrill to it - but here, this, was something different.

“That’s what I would have done,” Harry responded when he realised he’d been staring at Draco for too long.

“And you’re always right, of course,” Draco said, a touch of sarcasm under baked in his tone. Harry suspected this would be a very different conversation with a sober Draco.

“Maybe not,” Harry admitted. Draco’s method was effective, and somewhat endearing to watch. And now Harry was getting all sappy about it. Great.

“A-ha!” Draco shouted, sliding right off the couch to his knees and standing up. “You think I’m right.” He stumbled forward and stood over Harry. “You think I’m right,” he repeated, quieter.

He was looking down at Harry with such softness, something Harry had never been exposed to. When Draco let his guard down, there was always something harder underneath. But not this time. Not at all.

Harry stood up quickly, but that didn’t help like he thought it would. Instead he found himself much closer to Draco, looking directly back at the softness. He extracted himself as fast as he could, stepping back around the chair so that it stood between them.

“I should probably head off now,” Harry said awkwardly. “Happy birthday, Draco,” He added as an afterthought.

Draco smiled that lazy smile again. “You don’t have to call me that. Teddy’s not here.”

“Right. Malfoy.” Harry corrected. He hadn’t said the name in so long it felt strange on his tongue. But he liked it. Fuck, he really liked it.

“I’ve missed that,” Draco said with a sigh, his eyes closing. “Potter,” he whispered back.

Harry shivered. “I should go,” he suggested again. He was starting to feel a little light headed and he hadn’t even been drinking.

Draco shrugged and fell into the armchair. “You should do what you want, Potter,” he mumbled.

Harry stared at Draco. He’d been ready to leave but Draco looked as if he might fall asleep at any moment. And he couldn’t just leave him there. Well he could. But he didn’t want to. He sighed. This night had well and truly confused things.

“Come on, Malfoy,” he said, nudging Draco’s shoulder, “I’ll take you to bed.”

Draco smiled, but didn’t open his eyes or move. “Oh will you now, Potter?”

“To your bed,” Harry clarified.

“I don’t care whose bed we do it in,” Draco said, and then started giggling. Actually giggling. It reminded Harry very much of Teddy - the giggling, not the casual explicit flirting.

Harry chose to ignore the come on. He reminded himself that Draco was very much drunk and uninhibited. He reminded himself that Teddy was sleeping right above them. He focused on those thoughts so he wouldn’t have to deal with the more confronting one - that he so wanted to take Draco up on the suggestion. That he was very much attracted to Draco Malfoy.

He ended up levitating Draco up the stairs - “Why don’t you just tie me up while you’re at it, Potter?” - to avoid the all too much contact involved in pushing, pulling and tugging Draco’s tired body around.

When Harry let Draco down into his bed, he tried to do so as gently as possible, as it appeared that Draco had already started to fall -

“Coming in?” Draco asked sleepily, rolling over.

“Not tonight,” Harry whispered back before he knew what he was saying. Draco didn’t reply after that so Harry hoped perhaps he hadn’t heard anyway. He pulled the covers up around Draco, not brave enough to handle the clothes or shoes situation, and finally made his exit.

There was no way Draco would be able to manage the cold mask at their next meeting after this. No way.

Harry was wrong of course.

Friday had already been a particularly stressful day for him. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was under scrutiny for a number of unsolved cases and all the aurors were working overtime. Harry hadn’t even realised the time until Draco and Teddy turned up at his office.

“Good afternoon, Harry,” Draco said cordially, as Teddy rushed in.

A formal greeting. Draco might as well have slapped him across the face. Actually, Harry would have preferred that.

Harry quickly stopped Teddy from jumping up onto his desk, bringing him in for a hug instead before setting him firmly on the ground. Usually he didn’t mind, but he’d been working a little scattered today, paperwork on all surfaces, and he couldn’t risk losing any of it. He’d been out on the field since lunch and hadn’t had a chance to complete any of his reports.

“A busy day for you, then?” Draco commented politely, a disingenuous smile covering his real face.

Harry didn’t bother to reply to that. Polite small talk rarely required an actual answer. But there was something he needed from Draco. He really hated to ask, especially when Draco was playing this game. “Can you stay and look after Teddy for a bit? I’m going to be at this for a while.”

“Sure.” Of course Draco had to agree or forfeit the game. Harry didn’t like it but he needed the help either way. And if it meant he could get his reports finished before the weekend…

With Teddy occupied, Harry should have been able to concentrate, but he hadn’t really anticipated how much Draco’s presence would affect him. He was sitting by the door casting colourful shapes for Teddy to catch . They were both giggling. Clearly a trait inherited from the Black family for both of them then.

Harry looked back down at his paperwork. He couldn’t absorb the words. Not with that sound in his ears. He really was screwed.

“Draco,” he called, beckoning him over. “Perhaps you two could go for a walk or something,” he whispered so Teddy wouldn’t hear. “I’m having trouble focusing on work.”

Draco smiled at Harry. “Perhaps you should focus less on your work, and more on your family,” he whispered back, his words stinging despite his polite tone. “Teddy, I mean,” he added.

“That’s an easy thing for someone without a real job to say,” Harry said, mimicking Draco’s tone.

“If that’s a jab at my wealth, shall I remind you that you’re just as loaded as I am. You don’t need to have a 9-5 job either. You choose to waste your - “

“Waste my time?” Harry interrupted, standing up. “I’m an auror, not a phoney philanthropist.”

Draco’s fake smile dropped but he held his tone. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, we can’t all find value in throwing lavish parties to sate our hedonistic tendencies, all in the name of the latest popular cause.”

“So what if I enjoy a party? I didn’t realise you were so uptight."

“You spend more money on the party than is donated to the cause!” Harry’s voice had started to rise. Despite his genuine anger, he couldn’t deny the excitement of sparring with Draco again.

“I don’t see you donating anything.”

“Exactly. You don’t see it. Because I don’t use charity as a means to promote my status.”

“You don’t need to promote your status!” Draco yelled, finally dropping all pretence. “You’re Harry Potter. Some of us weren’t born so lucky.”

“Oh I see,” Harry said sarcastically. “I’m lucky Voldemort murdered my parents. I’m lucky I grew up in cupboard under the stairs. I’m lucky Voldemort killed me.”

Draco snorted. “Don’t be so outlandish. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“Not what you’ve been through. Who you are.” Draco waved a hand at Harry. “The perfect poster boy.”

“I’m not perfect.”

“Trust me, I know that, Potter.”

They both froze at the same time. Harry’s last name on Draco’s lips, something they had been so careful to avoid, reminded them both of their current company. They turned to Teddy in unison.

Teddy smiled, in that carefree way only a child can, and shrugged. He’d clearly heard every word. “It’s okay. Marley said her parents fight all the time.”

“Marley?” Draco questioned.

“She lives next door,” Harry quickly explained.

“A muggle?”

“Yes.” Harry said tightly. He wanted to say more to that revealing question but held it back, realising they’d already done enough damage in front of Teddy. “We’re not fighting,” He said instead, addressing Teddy.

“Yes, you are,” Teddy insisted.

“No, we’re not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, Teddy, we’re not,” Harry said firmly. “We’re having a minor disagreement.”

“A minor disagreement?” Repeated Draco, his voice had returned to a cold politeness for Teddy’s sake, but he fixed Harry with a contrary expression.

Teddy wasn’t fooled. “Mrs Oakson said - “

“Mrs Oakson?”

“Marley’s mother,” Harry explained for Draco quickly again, wondered where Teddy was going with this.

“Mrs Oakson said fighting is okay as long as you make up before you go to sleep.”

“We’re not fighting,” Harry said again, eyeing Draco for support.

“But,” Teddy started to giggle. “Marley said she thinks her parents make out before they go to sleep.”

“We’re not fighting,” Draco said immediately, finally backing up Harry. It didn’t help.

“You need to make up,” Teddy said, matter of factly, as if it were as simple as shaking hands.

“We don’t need to make out,” Draco said. “I mean up. Make up. We don’t need to make up because we’re not fighting.”

Teddy giggled at Draco’s stumble and made a show of closing his eyes and covering his ears.

“Teddy, what are you doing?” Harry asked.

Teddy turned around and started a chant of “Lalalalala…”

Harry understood although he immediately wished he didn’t. He laughed nervously. “I think he wants us to make out.”

Draco wasn’t as amused. “This isn’t funny. We shouldn’t have argued in front of him.”

“He’s not stupid, Malfoy. He knows we hate each other. All this pretending is rather silly.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “You started it,” he accused.

“I started being civil,” Harry corrected. “I didn’t turn it into this.”

“And what is this?”

“All the fake smiles and polite chatter, all this not saying what we mean.” Merlin, Harry hated it. And after the taste of something else, something real, how could he ever go back to it?

“Then, go on, Potter, say what you mean. I’m not stopping you. Teddy’s not listening. The floor is yours.”

Harry hesitated. As much as he despised it, there was a certain safety to the pretence. But an unbearable numbness to it as well. He sighed and started small: “I don’t hate you.”

Draco snorted. “That’s your big revelation? It’s hardly news. I don’t hate you either, Potter. Because I’m not a child. Obviously.”

“Okay here’s what I think of you - you’re so incredibly frustrating,” Harry said, his voice rising dangerously again. He hoped Teddy’s singing was enough to drown him out. “Why do you have to be so defensive all the time?”

“I wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t so judgmental. I can see you watching me with Teddy all the time. It’s like you want me to slip up or something. But you don’t know what you’re doing any more than I do.”

Is that what Draco thought?

“That’s not why I watch you,” Harry said quietly. How was he going to explain this?

“But you do watch me.”

“I - I - “ Harry started, unsure how best to put it.

“Aren’t we supposed to be saying what we mean here?” Draco said impatiently.

“I’m attracted to you,” Harry blurted out. Definitely not how he’d wanted to put it. But it was accurate.

“What?” Draco’s voice had lost it’s edge but he hadn’t quite returned to politeness either. There was a softness to it that reminded Harry of Draco’s birthday earlier in the week.

“I’m attracted to you,” Harry repeated. It was too late to retract it. “Happy now, Malfoy? That’s why I watch you. The way you are with Teddy - it’s attractive.”

Teddy’s singing filled the room as Draco and Harry stared at each other.

“Well, say something,” Harry said when he couldn’t take it any longer.

“Give me a second. I’m just absorbing this. Enjoying the moment,” Draco said as a smile crept onto his face. It bore no resemblance to the fake smile Draco had been wearing earlier.

Still, Harry wasn’t quite sure what it meant.

“You had plenty to say the other night,” Harry said, hoping to goad something more out of Draco. He had come on to Harry more than once, after all.

Harry was pleased to see a tinge of pinkness in Draco’s cheeks. “I was drunk.”

“So you didn’t mean any of it?”

“Quite the opposite, actually.” And there it was again - Draco winked at Harry. Merlin, that wink.

“You want to - “

“Have sex with you?” Finished Draco. “Almost definitely.”

Harry blinked. Saying what they meant was clearly far superior to small talk. Why had they wasted so much time?

“Are you going to say anything?” Draco asked.

“Can’t I just enjoy the moment?” Harry teased.

“Fuck you, Potter.”

“Mind the language. I think we’re supposed to make up now.”

“I could have sworn Teddy mentioned something about making out?” Draco said, tilting his head.

Harry could practically hear his heart beat quicken. “You wish.”

“Oh yes, Potter,” Draco said with quirk of his eyebrows, “I really do.”

And then Draco climbed up onto the desk, between them, as if he climbed on desks all day. Just jumped straight up as if it were as normal as breathing. Harry found he couldn’t give a thought to the fate of his paperwork, not when Draco was basically crawling over it to him. Merlin. Draco Malfoy was climbing over his desk.

There was only one thing for it. He leant forward to capture Draco’s lips with his own. Harry had enjoyed sparring with Draco - a momentary reprieve to the numbness of their wasted encounters, but this, this was more than just a reprieve, it was an explosion of feeling, the opposite of numbness. This was the real thrill Harry had been searching for. And from Draco’s enthusiasm, it was clear he felt the same.

Neither of them noticed that Teddy had stopped singing some time ago.

more like this l @queenofthyme

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #teddy #ust #auror #queenofthyme #2kfa #so i know i haven't posted a drabble in forever and I hope now you see why #this is over 5k #sorry not sorry #is that a drabble?#probably not anymore #and before you ask #no I can't do a 5k fic for everybody there are 59565 hours in a day #i don't know why #this just happened #and I was just a passenger for the journey

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the-erickson-labrynthian · 6 years

Text

Stories of Sabyn IV, Officer Santamona Eelila (2)

(The fourth in a ten part series set on the planet of Sabyn from my novella Nathan and the Allex Cube. I hope you enjoy, read the rest, buy the book, or support me in any way. It’d be pretty cool. Idk. Here you go:)

Officer Santamona Eelila (2):

The long night never seemed to end as Officer Eelila found herself interrogating a drunken slob, drooling on the desk. She repeated once more, “Tell me everything you know about a man, no, a terrorist, known as William James Briggs.”

“William James Briggs?” Alan laughed, “You guys finally deluded yourselves enough that you think you can catch him?”

Officer Eelila clenched her fists and leaned over the table, “I need you to tell me where you think he is. You are the last living man who knows anything about him. Tell me, now!”

“So I can die too?” He shook his head, “I’m no fucking fool, I know what happens when his name shows up.”

“This is national security. No matter how much you hate the government, you have a civic duty to uphold. Tell me.”

“Civic duty? Are you insane?” He continued to laugh, still drooling, “I’d be killed for getting anywhere near that ass again.”

She started to pull on her hair, “Listen, we are running out of time. I have to find this man soon. This is not some petty crime like your drug cartel. This is nothing that anyone on this planet is prepared for. We are talking about the apprehension of weapons capable of destroying a continent!”

Alan stopped, “He’s… finally going for the nukes. He told me about that plan for months on end. Talked about disabling them to disarm the government.”

“It’s a lie,” She spat, “He wants to use them so that he can gain power. He wants to control the planet. He’s a terrorist. You say he told you about this? You need to tell me anything you know about the plan.”

Alan dragged his arm across his face to wipe it, saying, “I hate that man. I really do. But, that man is not a liar. Not by a long shot. He’s just dangerous, because of the power he holds. But if you would have only stepped out of his way… no one would have to die.”

“That is asking an entire government to bow to the whims of a maniac! I cannot do this. You cannot do this. That man has caused lifetimes of damage to countless of planets! And he would sacrifice any life to give him power.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” The man chuckled, “Fuck you. Of course I know that. Do you know what happens when William Briggs enters your life? Do you?”

Eelila went blank as a flash of fire entered her mind, that burned through the field, unstoppable by any man. Then a tunnel, which held darkness so deep it consumed her. Then a ship, floating off into the distant void of the universe. Then water, that washed everything away. Good and bad. All memories. And then… the darkness of the room around her, the end of her life, at a job that could never satisfy.

Alan continued, “He has surrounded my whole life. Ruined everything I was. Made my family hate me. Killed somebody I loved! And he wasn’t sorry! Not really. He wanted to be. You could see it in his eyes, that he wanted to be sorry for what he did, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. That is what drags you back! Because he wants so badly to change that he makes you believe you can change him! But it’s nonsense! He can never change! He’s the Devil! And he killed my…” Alan stopped, “He is fire, and he destroys everything he touches. Everything. You want to stop him? Then burn. But, leave me out of the fire.”

The eloquence of this man proved that he was never really the slob she saw before her. That demeanor when they first met, it was a facade, he was no rat. He was just a broken man. She tried to comfort him.

“He took things away from me, too. And, I saw that same hope you did, Alan. I saw a man who could change the universe, had he chosen a different course. But, he didn’t, Alan. He has become a monster, and he must be put away. If you know anything, please, tell me, and end this fire. Forever.”

Alan began to cry, “I never wanted things to be this way.”

“No one ever does.”

“There’s no stopping him.”

“If we don’t try, what are we?” She broke the usual code she had and touched Alan’s hand, “If he really wanted help, then he wants to be stopped. If we wish to save the world, we stop him.”

“What could stop a man like that?”

“You. Tell me anything you can think of. Anything. Please.”

He paused for a moment, reflecting. Eelila’s heart raced as he pondered, anxious for any chance to catch the man that had plagued her life for so long. She looked outside; the moon held constant in the sky. Waning gibbous. She hated to waste one of the few nights she had on a gibbous.

“Okay,” Alan said.

Eelila broke her gaze at the moon and turned to him, “What?”

“I’ll tell you, on one condition.”

She grabbed his hand again, “Anything. What is it?”

“Arrest me.”

“W-what?” She stumbled through her words, “Why would you do something like that?”

Now he grabbed her hand, though it was through the cuffs he was sealed in, and he said, “Look at me. Look at what I’ve become. I lost everything…” He trailed off, “Everything. That man took away my life. William left me with nothing. He gave me money, of course he did. He gave me his name, and promised he would be there, but he never called. And even if he did, I would never answer. I lost everything.”

“But why do you want to be arrested?”

“It’s the only life I know. I don’t want to live on the streets, losing even more of myself. I want a second chance. This is it. It’s the only path I can take. Once I do this…” He paused again, “It’ll all be over. Maybe I can be forgiven for what I’ve done…”

A tear fell down her cheeks. She hated when that happened. She squeezed his hand, “I forgive you.”

“Then set me free.”

She thought he had such kind eyes. What kind of life could he have lived, if William hadn’t put his hands onto him?

The same life you might have lived, Mona…

“Okay. It’s a deal. Tell me.”

“When I was working with him, he led me to his base of operations, where he stores everything he has. If he has anything, it’s there. He should be too, I hope. He never could get away from his machines…”

“Where is it?”

“Right… it’s at Recompense Ave, 24601. A green house with broken windows, and a bright red door,” He closed his eyes, perhaps having his own difficult memories of this place he was describing.

“Thank you,” She whispered, “I promise I will stop him.”

He nodded and began to cry. Eelila pulled herself up and left the room to see Officer Bureau on the other side, waiting.

“What did you hear?” She asked him.

“Enough to know I heard nothing, but you’re breaking protocol.”

She grabbed Bureau by the chin and pulled him closer, “The first thing you need to learn about this job is that people matter more than rules. And, even horrible people deserve relief. And freedom.”

He said nothing.

“Good. Now, take him in. I’ve got a lead, and I’ve got to clear it out with Adams.”

Bureau spoke again, “He’ll never let you go take him out. He knows you’re too close to this case.”

She laughed, “No one else is handled to kill that man. Only me. Now, I told you to go take him in. I’ve got one more belligerent ass to handle before I can do what is my right to do.”

He went silent once more, only nodding, and pushing behind her to open the door. Eelila watched as he went over to Alan, saying, “Alright, Mr. Reigns, your luck has run out.”

Alan looked at her, and she smiled, content with what she had done. Next, Eelila watched the two of them walk out of the room and off to the left, where the cells were, before inmates were taken to prison. She went to the right, and upstairs, to the boss’ office.

I’ve almost got you, William Briggs.

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legend-icon-and-star · 6 years

Text

BenDeLaCreme Has Something to Stay (originally linked via reddit)

Dear Drag Race “fans” (not the real fans),

I’m not Jasmine Masters, but I’ve still got some stuff to say.

Tonight is an exciting night for a whole new crop of queens, and I want to celebrate them. But you may have noticed I have not yet congratulated the winner of All Stars 3. Or weighed in on the final episode at all. In fact, I’ve steered clear of social media for the last week. Not because I have nothing to say, but because I have discovered that anything I say will lead to an attack from a small but vocal minority of “fans” who have been using social media to harass and bully the queens.

If you have tweeted, commented, posted or DMed anything negative to any of the queens, this message is for you. Try and stick with it — it’s more than 140 characters.

I think a lot of you will find yourselves happier if you assume we are all humans trying our best to varying degrees of success at various times. The black and white thinking that people can be minimized to “good” or “bad” is both reductive and destructive.

Now that the season is over, let me clarify some things.

Firstly, let’s dismantle this “you knew what you were getting into” narrative. I can’t speak for the other girls, but I know I am not alone in this: Drag is my one true love. It is not just my job or my big plan to get rich and famous. I started drag when you had to love it so much that you were willing to withstand hate from the straight AND gay communities and devote your life to a demanding art form that almost guaranteed you would be permanently impoverished and disdained. Drag is who I am. It is deep in my blood and necessary to my happiness. I come from a long proud tradition of people with that same deep need for this art form, and we all now live in a moment where Drag Race is inextricably tied to any drag queen’s career, whether they engage with it or not. It provides amazing opportunities for both cast members and viewers. The culture surrounding it also takes some things away.

When I was first asked to be on All Stars 3 I said no. Then they asked some more. While I was flattered they wanted me back, I wished they would stop. I knew that no matter what I chose, there would be some unhappiness. There would be some regrets. It was the first of what I knew would be many decisions with no right answer. But thus is life - those of you who think you will ever have an objectively “right” or “wrong” viewpoint have a rocky road ahead. At the end of the day I decided that despite my issues with the format, I’d be able to change more from the inside than I could from the sidelines.

Also, the kid I once was needed to see the adult I am today.

Also, my career is everything to me.

Also, financial security is rare for an artist.

There is no one reason for anything. Nothing is entirely selfless, but that doesn’t mean none of it is.

I had no plan to do what I did, but it was not some incomprehensible decision that was “right for me” and I reject that narrative.

I did not leave the competition as any sort of favor to the other girls. I did not leave the competition because I couldn’t hack it. I did not leave the competition for “my mental health” or because a producer put me up to it. And I have never claimed any of those things. I left the competition because, in a situation where I had felt trapped choosing between “success” and what felt right, I had an epiphany. I saw an opportunity to make a statement to the producers, and in turn to you, the viewer. And also to myself. Stop accepting what “authority figures” have told you you have to do. You do not have to consent to compromising your values or personal boundaries, whatever they may be. You do not have to push people down to lift yourself up. This society has indoctrinated us with certain beliefs at a great cost to our own humanity. Some of you are angry I questioned those beliefs. If those beliefs can’t withstand questioning, then they are not structurally sound.

I’m disappointed with those who can’t see through the smoke and mirrors to the heart of drag, which is a message of love and inclusivity. Our culture has embraced bloodlust, and for some, reality TV has become our coliseum. The creators set up impossible situations for us to navigate without any of the support systems of the real world. Situations that cause some of us pain and anger and sadness. They don’t do it because they are monsters, they do it because they are under the impression that’s what you, the viewer, demands. Is that what you demand? Do you feel ok with demanding that?

I’d like to think that there are more people, like me, who love the part of this show that allows us to see amazing people do amazing things.

I’d also like to address this concept of being “fake” or “calculating.” If being “fake” means not thinking or feeling the same way in one moment than you thought or felt in a different moment, then lord help us all. If being “calculating” is thinking through your words and actions and modeling the behavior you would like to see in the world, even when it is difficult, then I hope more of you will become calculating.

No one is born kind. It takes work. That work requires thought, intention, and sometimes it means not indulging in everything you feel. Anyone who does that work will sometimes fail because failure always goes hand in hand with trying. My anger stems from the throngs of people unwilling to do the work.

Being kind when you feel inclined to be kind is not a measure of your kindness. Being kind when you are actually sad or angry or frustrated or resentful—or just DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO—that is being kind. Some of you embrace your id as if spouting every thought that goes through your mind is equivilent to being genuine. It is not dishonest to strive to be better than you are.

I love and respect Trixie. I love and respect Shangela. And all of the queens. I don’t think those who have not been through the reality TV machine will ever understand what the experience is like and how that might affect choices and actions in any given moment. I think some of you going to jump to wild assumptions about what I mean by that last sentence. You don’t know. You. Don’t. Know. Sometimes in life you will not know. Sometimes in life you will not understand. Or agree. And if you pick a fight every time that happens you’re going to tucker yourself out real quick.

Recognize that this show is a platform for all of these queens to share their work post-show. It is a stepping stone not an endgame. The crown itself has no bearing on the queens happiness, success or finances. This is evidenced by the fact that you regularly tear the winner to shreds. It is also evidenced by the reality that any queen who gets close to winning $100,000 will make at least $100,000. Anyone who thinks a queen’s bookings will suffer just because she didn’t win is deluded.

How about you all just focus on being wildly appreciative that these people have chosen to share themselves and their artistry with you, to bare themselves and be vulnerable despite the knowledge that many of you will be extremely cruel in return?

So: Congratulations to Trixie on winning the crown. Congratulations to Shangela for her incredible performance on the show. Congratulations to Kennedy and Bebe on being fierce queens who have earned fans and respect all over the world. Congratulations to the rest of the queens for being brave and fierce enough to share themselves despite the “fans” who attempt to chip away at their self worth. Congratulations to the cast of Season Ten; you are all brave and amazing. I truly hope the “fans” get their act together and see that. Finally, congratulations to the real fans - the ones who actually show love and support. You will always be a part of this family. You will always be loved and appreciated. And by giving, receiving and sharing that love, you will always know what it means to “win.”

DeLaCreme out.

((source))

((the comments about this on reddit are pretty positive and great too))

#bendelacreme #trixie mattel #shangela #all stars 3 #rpdr #i think there's a LOT of y'all that need to read this #and understand it

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unwiltingblossom · 6 years

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A Dance of Flame and Shadow (3/?)

Summary: There are times when one does not so much meddle with time, as time meddles with them. They were never meant to meet. They always would. Cause and effect can be difficult to determine, but the shadow has always been moved by the light, not the other way around. Time travel, a stable time loop or two, and many casualties lie ahead. DanzoSaku.

I wish I knew how I picked these chapter titles.

Chapter Two: Etched in Stone

She didn't exactly regret knocking the man through a few store fronts and one particularly large house. Actually, it was extremely satisfying.

It didn't really help the situation, though.

He responded to her attack so quickly that any chance he might be some kind of a low-level ninja impostor who'd gotten lucky (or pitied by security) vanished immediately. He must not even have finished skidding before wind blades sliced through the remains of the wooden buildings between he and she.

When she managed to avoid those, earthen spikes nearly skewered her.

Knocking a long range jutsu user out of her arm's length wasn't the best tactical decision she'd ever made.

Still, she wasn't without a few options. Like snapping off one of the spikes and flinging it at his figure in the distance. Or rushing to close the distance between them again.

Despite having improbably terrible intel, he wasn't personally stupid enough to try to block her next punch. He was nimble enough to dodge it outright, though. And he looked more...inconvenienced than strained.

A kunai appeared at her neck. It moved away on its own, given the option between being shattered and retreating.

"Weren't you going to verify my identity?" He didn't sound bored so much as offended that she'd take up his time with something so petty as an attempt to arrest him. Or pulverize him. Whichever happened first. She wasn't that picky, honestly.

"You already did that yourself!" He managed to swerve out of the way of one of her attacks at the last moment, causing her to crash through wood back into the street. A small group of passing civilians startled and then sprinted away from them.

He directed a disapproving scowl at her. "You're causing an unnecessary ruckus. If you simply wished for a fight, you should have asked for it outside of the village."

Why?

Why was he insisting something they both knew was a lie?

It didn't make any sense!

"I didn't ask for anything from you!"

He huffed, and took a step out from the demolished (and fortunately already closed) shop.

The air didn't stir. She saw no blur of movement at all, nor did she hear a sound. One moment he simply stood a step away from her and she calculated how next to hit him.

The next, a group of masked ANBU stood around them.

Well. An all-out fight in the middle of the village between a shinobi and an invader was bound to bring them eventually.

"Explain yourselves." The hawk-mask ANBU spoke in a way that cut through the air like an icy chill. It did figure the one who'd show up would be him. She didn't even know who he was, and yet he always seemed to be the one that caused the most trouble for her.

She straightened, gaze not turning from the man in front of her.

"This one...he claimed to be one of the Hokage's current students. Except he claimed to be one of the Second's students."

"...And you attacked me as if that would clear up your confusion." She appreciated his flat tone exactly not at all. There he was surrounded by powerful enemies, about to be dragged away for interrogation, and he spoke as if he were an instructor at the academy lecturing her for failing a practical test.

Except he was her age and almost completely insane.

The hawk turned his head to the man, 'Danzo', standing across from her. "That scar. Where did it come from?"

His irritation finally! Turned onto someone other than her! Which was good, because if the ANBU gave into the urge to kill someone, she wouldn't be the one getting in trouble. Even if she also wouldn't experience nearly the same amount of satisfaction.

"Having an opinion."

The ANBU surrounding them were silent for a few moments. Sometimes she wondered if they had some sort of jutsu that allowed nonverbal communication between groups of them, or if they were simply so highly trained that they could communicate ideas and concepts without allowing anyone else to realize they were doing it.

Perhaps they were all the strong and silent type.

"...You'll both come to see the Hokage."

"Both of us?" Well, she did destroy part of the village, but it was just to deal with an intruder! A dangerous one at that, as she discovered...after attacking him.

'Danzo' sighed. "That would have settled the matter from the start."

She glared at him. He ignored her as if she did nothing at all.

ANBU were nothing if not efficient, though, and once they all turned in the direction of the Hokage tower, there wasn't really any more time to discuss or glare or...fight. Both of them were marched through the streets toward where the Lady Hokage would be waiting. Where a Lady Hokage would be waiting in not the best of moods, probably.

At least, they marched down that path until they got to the main street of Konoha, a straight-shot to the Hokage tower and monument. The moment they came into view, the man next to her froze. His body stood rigid, his eyes widened, staring straight ahead at the hokage tower (or the mountain, considering his terrible cover story). It didn't look...that shocked, honestly. It was a pretty mild expression.

Somehow he managed not to look horrified, though. The last shred of doubt of his identity should have been ripped away even to the most deluded of spies, and yet he just looked...surprised? Confused? Mostly surprised. And not moving.

One of the ANBU behind him shoved his shoulder. "Keep moving."

She frowned over at him. He took a step or two, but then he only stopped again, still staring up at the mountain. "Hey, you don't want to make them agitated. What are you doing?"

His brows knit, and he gave a small shake of his head. He muttered something under his breath, but she didn't quite catch it from where she stood. His bizarre behavior was just starting to bother her. For someone who didn't seem to be anything like Naruto, he somehow managed to find every possible way to be infuriating and grating the way Naruto used to do when his only concern was whatever prank he planned on pulling next.

Actually, now that she thought about it...his clothes seemed out of place.

What he was wearing was just about the absolute last thing she'd been concerned about when he suddenly appeared out of nowhere, following up an unwelcome kiss with generally being confusing and infuriating. Now that she bothered to look, his uniform lacked any real kind of color. Rather than the flak jacket that anyone chuunin rank or above was issued, he wore a much more primitive form of armor. The kind that fell out of use during the Third's reign.

She shook her head quickly and turned her attention back to where they were going: the Hokage Tower. Looking at him made her head hurt and her blood boil. Just about now, she'd rather face the Lady Hokage than think any more about how bizarre and out of place the man next to her was.

)+(

It probably would have been a little more pleasant just to stand in the middle of the street and confuse herself with the out-of-place nin than face the Lady Hokage.

Well, if she'd proven the so-called 'Danzo' really was an enemy nin trying to infiltrate the village, it wouldn't have mattered what member of the Daimyo's family owned that one tall building she collapsed a few support beams in. Somehow hauling in a strange probably-imposter resulted in a longer lecture about destroying Konoha property than interrogation of the suspect.

"...So you don't remember anything about moving from then to now?" The Lady Hokage settled her chin on her hand and looked up at the young man beside her with an expression that held entirely too little suspicion for the matter at hand.

He frowned. "As I said."

"And you, Sakura, don't remember asking him to do anything?"

As if there were really anything she could have requested that could be confused for 'walk up and kiss me without warning'.

"I've never seen him before in my life."

His gaze flickered toward her, sour. Well. She wasn't about to make up a lie to the Hokage for his benefit. It wasn't as if she trusted him, or had any reason whatsoever to want to do so.

Tsunade tapped her knuckle to her lip. Perhaps there was a long history that only the Hokage knew about of displaced Konoha shinobi suddenly appearing. Apparently from a different point in time than they belong, if his insistence that he served under the Second were true.

If they weren't, he was maybe the most stubborn liar she'd ever seen. Not even a good liar, though. Just a stubborn one.

"Obviously I can't just take your word that something so outrageous is true."

A slim brow rose. Which was almost surprising in itself, because she'd begun to suspect his eyebrows were actually stuck in a permanent scowl. "Obviously."

"Then I'll give you three options." The Lady Hokage settled her hands on the desk, knitting her fingers."Submit to interrogation to determine the truth of your claims, admit to the nation you were sent to infiltrate from so that I can respond appropriately, or be executed."

Executed...

She couldn't help a small frown, glancing over to the man next to her.

He wouldn't really choose that, would he?

He seemed entirely unfazed by the casual threats laid out before him. "I presume Konoha still employs the Yamanaka clan after this time?"

Tsunade's lips twitched up into a slim smile. "Not all of your information is uselessly outdated."

He grunted. She thought it might have been an offended sound, but really...just assigning his responses appropriate emotions made it less of a headache to observe him, so she could have been making it up. It wasn't aggressive, so in the end that was most of what mattered.

"If that's what it takes, then."

The Lady Hokage sat back in her chair then, and gave a curt nod. "I'll figure out what to do with you after we determine if you're telling the truth."

Only a moment or two after she finished speaking, a small group of ANBU appeared in the office once more, having vanished since the Hokage first started speaking to the two of them. This time, at least, they only appeared around the strange man. When they left, he vanished with them.

"Do you think..." She glanced over at the Lady Hokage. "There could be two of them?"

She must have, right? If she was entertaining in any way that the man's story was true, she must have assumed there were more than just the old thorn in her side. Given the condition she'd heard he was in, he probably would have been older than that even if somehow he really were in the wrong time.

What kind of a jutsu would even allow that, anyway?

The Lady Hokage shook her head. "The Shimura are a private family. Even when I was younger I never really got to know any of them. It's possible."

She huffed, looking out the door that the ANBU likely traveled through only moments before. "If he's born here...there's records, right? Even if they won't answer, we should have something to prove he's existed."

"Well, you could try looking." Shizune's voice cut through the office. She'd been so uninvolved in things since they'd been shoved into the office that Sakura had nearly forgotten her senior student's presence entirely. "But if he's really from where he says he is, the records are unreliable. Many of them were destroyed in attacks, and even more were never even recorded in the first place."

That...

That was...

Unbelievably frustrating.

Not that she actually believed him about being displaced without even having a good explanation for how or why.

Because she didn't.

He was definitely just crazy. And dangerous.

And had the actual worst taste in cover identities.

#sakura haruno #shimura danzo #danzo shimura #naruto fic #naruto #ooc #fic

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ovojebalkan-story-collectio-blog · 6 years

Text

Bjorkman’s Empire 12 - Bjorkman’s Empire

The Eurovision Song Contest. The Eurovision was supposed to be a peaceful contest. But it wasn't anymore. It used to be a party that all of Europe could celebrate peacefully with music. One man had changed that in seconds. Once regarded by some as a silly thing, the annual song contest was now the most important political event in the world. The whole of Europe was waiting for the annual song contest, to see what the future was going to be for Europe, or if Europe even had a future now that Björkman's Empire existed. What had happened to the world? Things seemed so different now. The Eurovision Song Contest wasn't what it once was. Sweden wasn't what it once was. But, Björkman had changed a lot of things like that. In fact, Europe had been a very different place ever since Christer Björkman became the dictator of Sweden.

---

Why couldn't things go back to the way they once were? Why couldn't Eurovision be an innocent if kitschy song fest instead of a symbol of an oppressive regime? The entire world had gone into an inescapable nightmare... one that it could not wake up from...

---

It was time. The Eurovision entrants had arrived in Malmö from all over Europe. Reporters gathered around them, flashing their cameras and trying to get rushed interviews. The arrival of the Icelandic entrant had made the headlines. Iceland had been practically obliterated by the Björkman regime, so why would their entrant come to Malmö regardless? Especially since he was a robot who had defected from Björkman's Empire in the first place. Why return here? Ey��ór ignored them as he walked over to the other entrants. "What's the problem?" Eyþór snapped as the reporters flashed him with their cameras, "Ain't you ever seen Eurovision entrants before? Get a hold of yourselves!" Eyþór had come here despite the attacks on Iceland, partly because he wanted to represent his country, but mostly because he wanted to avenge his country. It would be much easier to end the tyranny that was Björkman's Empire while he was inside the regime itself. He was determined to make Björkman pay for his crimes, the dictator just didn't know it yet. Björkman had allowed him to come to Eurovision after he won the Icelandic contest Söngvakeppni. Eyþór didn't know why he had been allowed to come, but he did know one thing. Christer Björkman would regret it. The Eurovision entrants walked towards the steel gate, trying their best to ignore all the reporters shouting many things at once. Walking through the gate, they saw the words 'We Are One', engraved into the metal. The motto of Björkman's Empire. Also the motto of this year's Eurovision Song Contest. It seemed that the politics of the new Swedish empire would certainly not be kept out of this contest. Then again, no one had expected anything different.

---

They were going to be shown their way around the stadium and then around the hotel. They were also going to be given their 'identity cards'. New items that Björkman had introduced to further his control over the already broken Swedish population. Marking the people as his property, and his alone. The Albanians were currently trying to get their identity cards from a receptionist. Adrian and Bledar were having a little trouble getting their cards. "Lu loo goo uh..." the woman looked down at the name on her sheet, "Lu lo gee," "No!" Adrian yelled, "Lulgjuraj!" "Lu loo, uh..." "No not Lulu!" Adrian said, "Lulgjuraj! Can I just have my card please?" "Since this is taking a while can I have my card first?" Bledar asked. "Ah yes, Bledar Sejko!" the receptionist handed him his card, "Enjoy your card!" "Thanks!" he replied, taking the card. It had strange numbers on it and almost looked like it was glowing green slightly. Adrian was a little annoyed that Bledar had gotten his so quickly when they were having trouble with his one. Luckily, a member of the EBU intervened and Adrian got his card too. "What are these cards for, anyway?" Bonnie asked Marco Mengoni. No one had really explained what anything was for to the entrants. Not yet, anyway. "A new thing that Björkman has introduced to Sweden recently," Marco whispered back, "The identity cards... basically, if one of his robots sees you and you don't have your card to show it, then you get zapped, so always make sure that you have your card with you." Björkman's robots. Bonnie shuddered at the mention. The regime was well known for using robots against political dissidents. Many of the entrants had already seen the robots, as they were well known for leaving Sweden and going into other countries, despite Björkman giving empty promises that they would not. Some of the Eurovision entrants had underestimated just how controlling the regime could be, some of them regretted coming here. But it will too late for regrets now. There was no way they would be allowed to leave before the Eurovision Song Contest was over. Bonnie looked down at her identity card. This was all the stood in the way of her becoming yet another one of Björkman's victims. "Don't let it out of your sight," Robin added, holding his card in his hands. As a Swede, he already had an identity card. And he had already seen first hand what the consequences were for not carrying it. "This is all too much," Emmelie said, "How is Christer allowed to get away with all this?!" "Shhh, be quiet," Stoyan said, "There's a Swede coming this way... don't be saying bad things about you-know-who while we're here..." "Oh no," Robin said as Eric Saade walked over to them. He was wearing the yellow uniform and hat that all members of Björkman's Army wore. Back when Sweden had been a democracy, Eric and him had been best friends. After the takeover, Eric had become a fanatical supporter of the regime. Robin was disgusted at what his former friend had become. "Praise Björkman," Eric said, "And welcome to Björkman's Empire!" "Praise Björkman," Elitsa and Stoyan answered. They too were wearing the yellow uniform, having been sent them as a gift from Björkman to Bulgaria. Bulgaria's alliance with Björkman's Empire was going extremely well, and, although the two contestants had been slightly skeptical in the beginning, they now too looked favourably on the Swedish regime. "Ah, Bulgarians! Friends!" Eric grinned, "Great to see some true allies here! Unlike some others I could mention..." Eric then looked disapprovingly at Robin. "I heard you had to go to a 're-education camp', Robin," Eric muttered, "I'm disappointed in you." "That dictator had me sent to jail for no good reason. In any case, I'm the one who should be disappointed. What the hell happened to you Eric?" Robin asked, "We used to be friends, now look at you." "No, look at yourself Robin. You've become pathetic, you really have," Eric laughed, "You think you could take down our great leader?! Well, you can't. He's here to stay, whether you like it or not." "Jeez, I thought I was on the Junior Eurovision for a moment there," snapped Stoyan, "Because you're all acting like a bunch of kids. Who cares who supports Björkman's Empire and who doesn't?" "Well, obviously Björkman does," Despina replied, "Because he shoots anyone who doesn't." "The right thing to do, as far as I'm concerned," Eric grinned, before walking off, out of the room, leaving Robin to wonder exactly how his friend had come to support the new dictatorship. "Can someone really be so deluded?" Esma asked. "Yes, he can," Robin said bitterly, "And he's the last person I would have expected it from." "Maybe he's putting on an act and he's really in the resistance?" Bonnie suggested positively. "If that's the case then it's a pretty good act," Robin replied, "No Bonnie, he's really with Björkman... and to think all that we've been through... and he betrayed me for what, that madman?" "Sometimes, Robin," Amandine said, "You never really know a person's true colours until something like this happens." Well, that was true. Once Björkman took hold people in Sweden started to denounce their family, friends, anyone. Björkman turned friend against friend, family member against family member. That's just what the regime did to people. For all the talk of how hated Björkman was, he now had a loyal base of fanatical supporters, which hadn't been the case before the Melodifestivalen Massacre. Things were starting to look up for the Swedish dictatorship. "Come on," Stoyan said, "Stop this talk. They'll be showing us the hotel soon, so we have to be ready, ya know? Let's get the cards and get outta here..." The other reluctantly nodded, except for the Icelandic entrant, who turned away, defiant. He was determined, he would take down this regime if it was the last thing he ever did.

---

"And this," Petra smiled, looking around at the hotel, "Is Malmö Hotel! I hope you guys enjoy your stay here, we've put a lot of effort in to making this the best Eurovision experience possible!" The Eurovision contestants smiled, mostly false smiles, to please the Swede. "Ah, it's lovely," Natalie from Cascada spoke, but she was lying, they all were. The truth was, they were all finding this country incredibly scary. Finding out that the hotel itself was guarded by robots had made some of them seriously reconsider their part in this contest. Suddenly, they were distracted from their thoughts by a figure coming towards them. "Wait..." Emmelie said, "Wait, is that? No...it can't be..." It was Sarah Dawn Finer. Robin was shocked. During the first semi-final of Melodifestivalen, Finer had insulted and mocked Björkman's Empire. Björkman's response was to have her immediately arrested. It was rumoured she had been sent to 'Björkman's Gulag', a 're-education camp' in Stockholm, but when Robin and the other Melodifestivalen entrants arrived there it was empty. No one had seen the Swedish comedian in months. And yet here she was. "Sarah!" Robin yelled, "Sarah! You're alright!" Sarah turned to him. It was then that they realised she too was wearing a yellow Empire uniform. "Praise Björkman," she said, "Praise Björkman's Empire." "Wha... Sarah... no..." Robin felt his happiness fade. She had been brainwashed by Björkman. "Sarah no!" Robin said, "You can't be serious! He can't have brainwashed you! He can't!" "Brainwashed?!" Sarah grinned, "My friend, it is you who is brainwashed. I have seen the light, my friend. I was foolish before. Praise Björkman!" "No! You can't... no!" Robin yelled as Sarah turned away from him. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He just couldn't. Sarah Dawn Finer had been one of the leading figures in the resistance, and now this was what she had been reduced to, another one of Björkman's fanatical followers. It was clear Björkman had brainwashed her for propaganda purposes, Robin was sure that when the rest of the resistance in Sweden saw what she had become then the movement would be demoralised. "I'm so sorry," Hannah Mancini said to him as Sarah left the room. "It's not your fault," Robin sighed, "We all know who's fault it is." And with that, the organisers of the contest showed up, ready to escort the entrants to their individual room. The first semi final would be in a few days time. The contestants didn't feel ready for it. No one did. They just hoped that things would go smoothly in the days leading up to the semi final.

---

But they wouldn't. It was the very next day that trouble began to start for the contestants. The problem with having a bunch of Eurovision entrants stuck together in a building is that there is always some sort of argument. If there ever was an argument against world peace, then Eurovision Week was it, as people from countries who hated each other began to get increasingly annoyed at having to be in the same building as their nation's enemies. Even the threat of a looming despotic dictatorship did nothing to bring together countries who were torn apart by years of bitterness and hatred. The Eurovision was supposed to be a uniting contest, but there was no unity here. Even when they had a common enemy, the brutal dictatorship that was once Sweden, the in-fighting was huge. But for now that was forgotten, as there was an even bigger problem. For all the talk of wanting to leave the compound that was the heavily guarded hotel, none of the entrants were actually brave enough to do it. Until now. Cezar, the Romanian entrant, wanted to take a walk outside, as the robots usually guarding the building were no longer there. Why? There seemed to be no real reason for it, other than the fact that the Romanian did not like being told what to do by anyone, even to the point of rebelling against a repressive government. Despite repeated warning from the other contestants, Cezar was adamant about leaving the building. The two Bulgarians were standing with him by the exit of the hotel, trying to convince him to stay in the building, but it was in vain. "As allies of Björkman's," Stoyan said, "I think it'd be best if we advise you not to go out." "Indeed," Elitsa said, "He's probably got robots on patrol, or something like that. And besides, Björkman doesn't like foreigners to see what his country is really like. Everyone knows that." "Hmmph, I don't need to listen to you," Cezar said defiantly. Just then, Robin walked down the corridor towards them. "What's going on down here?" the Swede asked. "Robin, talk some sense into this guy, will you?" Stoyan said. "Why?" Robin said, "What's happening?" "I'm going out, that's what," Cezar said. "What?! Why? You can't go out," Robin said, "Björkman's set a curfew, remember?" "Who cares, we're the Eurovision entrants, we can do what we want! I can do what I want!" the Romanian replied angrily. "This is Björkman's Empire!" Robin yelled, "You can't do what you want! Not here! Not now! Stay inside!" "Nope," Cezar walked away from the Swede. It seemed ridiculous, went against every sense of logic and reason, and yet the Romanian still wanted to defy Björkman's official orders. "Stop!" Robin yelled, but was ignored. "Well, time for me to go, then," Cezar smiled, walking out of the hotel. "Someone stop him!" Stoyan yelled, and yet no one did a thing to prevent him from leaving. There was nothing the entrants could do as he walked away from the hotel. "Flamin' idiot!" Robin hissed, "He knows he's not supposed to leave the hotel!" They couldn't understand why he would want to go. For the publicity? To see what the country was really like? But then... they all knew what the country was really like. At that moment Eyþór ran over to them. "What on earth is going on down here?" he asked. "Cezar has left the hotel!" Robin yelled. The Icelandic sighed. This was wrong, everything was going wrong. If Cezar got caught, it would ruin any chances of taking down the empire, because Björkman would keep a closer watch on all of them. And who knows what would happen to the Romanian entrant if he got caught? They couldn't take any chances, they had to get him back, they just had to. "No," Eyþór said, "This is not the right time to strike against Björkman, he has the upper hand in everything right now. Someone should go outside and bring the Romanian back here, before he gets any further. He can't be too far, he's only just left." Andrius Pojavis stepped forward. "I'll go and do it," the Lithuanian said, "Might as well, I've always wanted to do something really heroic." Eyþór sighed. Andrius wasn't taking this situation as seriously as he should have been. "This is not a job for a have-a-go hero," Eyþór said flatly, "This is serious. This is an incredibly dangerous mission." "Well, if you're so sure," Andrius said, annoyed, "Why don't you go and do it." "I would," the Icelandic said, "But Björkman will be able to detect if I'm out of the hotel. I'm a robot, remember? One of his robots." Eyþór shuddered at the word his... but that's what he was, one of Björkman's robots. The other entrants often forgot this fact, and it was incredibly jarring to think that Eyþór was the same thing as the robots that flew around Sweden murdering dissidents and other opponents of Christer Björkman's regime. Suddenly, the Cypriot entrant, Despina Olympiou, chimed in happily. "Let Andrius go," Despina grinned, "I'll go with him! I've always wanted to go on an adventure!" Eyþór was growing more and more annoyed by what Andrius and Despina were saying. Hero. Adventure. This wasn't a cartoon. This was real life. They wouldn't even know the real meaning of heroism considering that their countries had been left mostly untouched by the far reaching influence of Björkman's Empire. His country had been destroyed and theirs... theirs were fine. But still, he needed someone to go and bring back Cezar, and quickly. Despina had disappeared at this point, and came back down the stairs holding Cezar's identity card too. "He didn't take his card with him!" Despina said, "Here, I've found it!" "So," Andrius said, "Can we go?" "Fine," the Icelandic growled, "You two go. Make sure you have your cards!" "We do!" Despina said as she and Andrius ran out of the building.

---

Cezar was walking down the street, looking at the destroyed buildings, rubble lying everywhere, aftermaths of the attacks on innocent protesters by the robots. He had heard the stories, but it was far worse seeing it in person. If he didn't know better, he wouldn't even have believed he was in Sweden. Sweden used to be such a peaceful and good country. In only a few years, Sweden had changed for the worse. The brutal dictatorship left nothing untouched. He realised then that he shouldn't have come out here. That this was a mistake. He turned to go back to the hotel, but suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing noise behind him. A robot. It was one of Björkman's robots. "Unauthorized person detected. Where is your identity card?" the robot said. Cezar reached into his pockets, but there was nothing there. Again and again he searched his empty pockets frantically but there was nothing. He was sure he had brought his card with him. Where was it? "Uh... I don't think... I mean, I do have one, but, I just... I don't have it... right now?" Cezar stammered. "No identity card?" the robot replied, "Then you are not allowed to be out here. Christer Björkman has ordered the execution of all those found without their cards." "Wait wait wait," Cezar yelled, "You can't do that!" "I cannot disobey official orders," the robot said. "Well... what if Björkman told you to walk into Stockholm and just start shooting people, would you do it?" Cezar asked. "I cannot disobey official orders," the robot repeated again. "So... you would then..." A silly question. Björkman had ordered the robots to fire on the public before and they had indeed done it before. Many times. Cezar had made a huge mistake. How he wished he had just stayed inside the hotel. Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him. Andrius and Despina ran over. Luckily Cezar hadn't wandered far from the hotel and so he had been easy to find. "Wait," Andrius said to the robot, "What are you doing?" "Where is your card?" the robotic voice answered. Andrius showed the robot his identity card. "You are an entrant of the Eurovision Song Contest," the robot replied flatly, "Ok, that is fine." "Yes, we are all from the Eurovision Song Contest," Despina said, showing her identity card to the robot too. "Identities verified... Andrius Pojavis... Despina Olympiou... authenticity... 100%... reason... Eurovision Song Contest..." The robot then turned to Cezar, who was still fumbling in his pockets trying to find his card. "Identity... unknown..." "This is Cezar, from Romania," Despina said, luckily she had brought his card too and showed it to the robot, "Here is his identity card." The robot looked at the card. "Cezar..." it stated, "Security... verified...." Despina grinned. "We did it!" she said, "Eyþór will be so proud of us!" Cezar seemed less impressed as the three of them walked back to Malmö hotel. Luckily for them, no robots bothered them. "Well." Andrius said as they walked down the street, "What were you thinking? Why would you even think of doing something that?!" "Whatever," Cezar said, trying not to appear shaken up from before. Andrius was enraged that Cezar didn't seem to have learned his lesson. "You better promise me that you'll never do anything so stupid ever again!" Andrius yelled. "I... promise..." the Romanian replied, walking back into the hotel, "I didn't need your help anyway, I would've been fine." "Uh huh," Andrius said sarcastically. No he wouldn't and he knew it, so why couldn't he just say thank you? "I didn't realise that you don't get any thanks for being a hero," Despina sighed, "What a rubbish job!" Andrius sighed, she was right. This wasn't what being a hero was about. You were supposed to do the job and then get all the thanks and adoration... and everyone loves a hero. At least, that's how it works on TV. In the real world, however, things were a bit more complicated. Nothing is as black and white as it seems.

---

"So," Eyþór said as Andrius and Despina walked back into the lobby, Cezar having rushed up to his room long ago, "Did you learn anything today?" "Yeah, we sure did," Despina said, "Being a hero sure does stink." "Well," Eyþór said, "That's only if you do it to be admired. Later, during this very competition, I may attempt something... that may seem to some... 'heroic'. I may not receive any thanks for it, in fact, I probably won't... too many people are enjoying the status quo around here... too much money to be made from Björkman's Empire..." But Despina and Andrius had already gone. The Icelandic was just rambling to himself. "What do you think he meant?" Despina said, as she and Andrius approached the room on which a large Lithuanian flag hung on the frame, "He may do something... heroic?" "Eh, he's just full of hot air like everyone else who claims to be in the resistance against Björkman," Andrius shrugged, "He won't try anything. No one will. No one else does."

---

During all the commotion with Cezar, the Eurovision entrants had almost forgotten that tomorrow was the day of the dress rehearsal. Usually they had more rehearsals, in previous contests there had typically been an entire week just for perfecting the songs and the performances. But like a lot of things, it was different in Björkman's Empire. Christer Björkman himself had been using the Malmö Arena to host all sorts of political rallies, and so there was less time for Eurovision, less time for the contest. Less time for anything not related to Björkman himself. But Anouk was trying not to think of that, of Björkman, of all the things that had made her the way she is. How she was a genetic experiment engineered by Björkman. The attack in Hilversum... no... she couldn't let herself think about that. She tried to put it out of her mind. She was sitting in her hotel room, still sorting out the suitcases she had packed. She decided to throw all her concentration into packing the bags, rather than thinking about the country she was in. She was just unpacking her things from her suitcase when she saw it in the corner of her hotel room. Not as horrible as a tyrannical dictator, but horrible for her all the same. A spider. Anouk jumped up and screamed in shock. "A spider!" she dropped her suitcase and ran to the door of the room, "Noooo!" By this point Anouk was really acting over the top, and the other Eurovision entrants had gathered around the room to see what the fuss was all about. "Had no idea you were afraid of spiders, Anouk," Emmelie smirked as the entrants all tried to get a closer look inside the room. "Oh be quiet you," Anouk snapped as the Danish girl broke out into laughter. "This hotel is full of spiders," Stoyan complained, "I don't know how you haven't seen one before now." The spider began to edge closer to the door. Anouk wanted to run off but the many people blocking her exit meant that she couldn't. "Oh god it's coming closer," Anouk yelled, "Someone do something!" "It's just a lil' spider," Farid beamed. "Well then Farid, can you get rid of it for me?!" Anouk said, pointing at the large spider in the corner, "Please?" "Eh, no thanks," Farid said, backing off. He'd made himself out to look tough but when it came to it he wasn't really. And besides, the Azeri really didn't like spiders that much either. "Why not?" Anouk said. "Yeah Farid," Robin teased, "I thought it was 'just a lil' spider'." "Oh shush you," Farid said. "Well what about you then Robin?" Anouk said, "Can you get rid of the spider?" "Uh, no," the Swede backed off too, "I just remembered that I had to go do something else." "What? Can't anyone get rid of it?!" Anouk wailed. "Hey," Zlata said, "Your room, your problem." "But I can't get rid of it!" Anouk said, "Come on, surely one of you guys don't have a problem with spiders!" "I'll do it," Krista Siegfrids smiled, "Calm down already." The Finn walked into the room calmly, before walking right up to the spider and coaxing it to walk onto her hand. "Throw it at her, Krista," Emmelie laughed. "No! Don't do that!" Anouk yelled as the Finn opened the window and released the spider into the garden outside. "Don't be so mean Emmelie," Krista laughed as she shut the window. "You should've just stomped on it," Emmelie said. "Oh, heavens no," Krista said, "Gee Emmelie, what's gotten into you today? Well, anyway, there you go Anouk, the spider's all gone. So now you can stop all the shouting, ok?" "Wow, thanks Krista," Anouk smiled, "I don't know what to say. You're really brave and all." "Brave?!" Krista tried hard not to laugh, "It was only a little spider, Anouk. You could hardly see it!" "I really hate spiders," Anouk mumbled to herself. "Yeah, we gathered that," Krista laughed. With the spider gone, Anouk realised that she had kind of embarrassed herself in front of the other Eurovision participants. "Oh god," she said at last, "This is so embarrassing." "Don't worry about it," Krista replied, "After all, it's Eurovision, it's supposed to be embarrassing. Oh, and if you have any other problems with spiders and such, just call me." "Uh, will do Krista!" Anouk smiled, "And thanks again!" "Don't mention it," the Finn smirked. And with that, the entrants started to return to their own rooms. Anouk's spider problem was funny and all, but they really had to get back to unpacking their belongings, after all, they had a big day ahead of them tomorrow.

---

Esma and Vlatko had been watching from the corridor. "I hate that," Esma muttered. "Hmm? Hate what?" Vlatko replied. "That! Just... whatever it was! The screaming over a little spider while the world is being taken over by a tyrannical dictatorship... why?" "Esma, they're just kids! They're just having fun, they're allowed to do that, aren't they? Making light of a bad situation?" "I guess," Esma sighed, "But they shouldn't be so... happy... nothing is happy, especially not here, in this cursed country. Not anymore."

---

It was the next day. All the entrants sat on chairs outside of the stadium. They were ready, but the stadium wasn't ready to be performed on just yet. Björkman had been using it to practise his speeches yet again and so the organisers were going to be late in setting the staging for the Eurovision contestants. They knew that the contest was always going to be held in the shadow of his tyranny. Eurovision would always come second to whatever Björkman's aims were. Everything came second to Björkman. "Well," Nodiko turned to the two Bulgarians, "None of us can get any internet signal on our phones, ya know, because Björkman's had the internet censored. But Robin tells me that he thinks you two would be able to get on, ya know, because of Bulgaria's new friendship with Sweden." "Ah, really?" Stoyan smiled, "I must try that." He then got his phone out and proceeded to browse the internet on it. None of the others had been able to connect at all, but for the Bulgarians it worked faster than any connection they had ever seen before. "Huh? Well, you're right!" Stoyan said, hardly able to believe it. "Hahaha, look what you've done now Nodiko," Elitsa grinned, "We're supposed to be practising in a bit, not playing about on the net." "Just look at all this cool stuff," Stoyan said, ignoring her, "We can go on the internet... wait... that's weird... how did they know which phones are ours?" "Björkman knows everything," Robin whispered, "Never underestimate him." "Must be the Bulgarian SIM cards..." Despina guessed. "So it works on the Bulgarian phones..." Vlatko said, "Not even most Swedes can access the internet anymore around here..." "Oh..." Robin sighed, "I do miss the internet." The other entrants felt a pang of jealousy. While in Sweden they hadn't been able to connect to the internet at all. Why should the Bulgarians be allowed to go on the internet when they themselves weren't allowed to? "What the..." Stoyan said, interrupting the silence, "On the Eurovision section on Reddit people are claiming that there's going to be an attack on the Eurovision? And here... on Facebook... people saying the same thing... and Twitter too? Just what is this?" "Oh for goodness sake Stoyan!" Elitsa said, "This conspiracy stuff again? What a load of rubbish! I thought we'd agreed that you'd stop all that, remember?" Stoyan was quiet for a few minutes, looking for more news about this new 'conspiracy'. "Yes, but..." Stoyan finally said, "Some websites are claiming that there will be an attack on the first Eurovision semi final tomorrow, it's all very worrying." "Hmmm," Marco said, "Let me see." Marco took the phone from Stoyan. "An attack?!" Birgit said, "On the semi final? What?!" "Don't listen to them Birgit," said Dina, "They're just trying to make us worry, is all. So it'll put us off and they'll qualify instead of us." "Uh, Dina," Stoyan said, "We're in the second semi final, remember?" "No, he's right," said Marco, "Weird, I've never heard about this before. But apparently there's been a rumour for some time that there will be an attack on the first semi final. They say it will be by Christer Björkman himself, but that he will put the blame on the Free Sweden Alliance, his opposition. He will use the attack to blame the FSA... well, that's what this website says here, anyway. Here, here's your phone back. This is really bad, how come we didn't know about this?" "What?!" Birgit said, "Is there really going to be an attack?" "Of course not Birgit," Elitsa said, "Stoyan's spouting this conspiracy rubbish all the time, listen, I'm sure the first semi final will go fine!" The others decided to agree with her.

---

But that didn't stop the participants of the first semi final from being entirely too nervous when sitting there in the green room the next day. The clock ticking down, seemed to be ticking towards some sort of doomsday. But, if news of this rumoured attack was widespread, then the audience didn't seem to notice, many of them giggling with joy. Only the hardcore Eurovision fans had dared to come to Sweden to see the contest, with casual viewers shying away from the dictatorship. After all, they could always go to ESC next year. Next year, when wouldn't be held in some sort of tinpot dictatorship. They hoped. At that moment a spotlight fell onto the stage, a figure then stepping out onto it from behind a curtain. It was the host of the contest, Petra Mede. "Hello!" Petra said, walking out onto the stage, "And welcome to the first semi-final of the Eurovision Song Contest 2013!" The crowd cheered and waved their flags as Petra beamed at them. "Tonight, we are celebrating nearly one year of rule by our glorious leader, Christer Björkman!" Petra said, and the audience clapped even louder at this, most likely because they felt they had to, rather than any connection they felt to the leader. Suddenly, a buzzing sound was heard, and some robots flew onto the stage with Petra and bowed towards the audience. "Our dear leader," Petra beamed, "We adore you!" And with that, none other than Christer Björkman himself stepped out onto the stage with Petra. The symbol of so much hate and destruction. The audience and the contestants all gasped in shock. How could he be here? What was he doing here? "Hahahaha," Christer merely laughed, "Why thank you Petra. Thank all of you! I have come to Malmö to watch the contest... I assure you that you're all in safe hands."

---

"Ya see?" Natalia smiled, "Nothing bad can happen at the semi final... after all, Björkman himself is here! And everyone knows how cowardly he is!" "Unless he's plotting against us right now," Anouk said, looking down towards the floor, "He could have come to Malmö to make sure his plan would work..." "Nonsense!" Natalia replied, more serious now, "I can't believe we've let those two Bulgarians scare us! I mean honestly!" Trying to disregard it as a rumour, the Eurovision entrants looked on as Björkman pranced around the stage to the tune of his 1992 Eurovision song 'I morgon är en annan dag'. The audience cheered for the dancing dictator, as the entrants hoped that his appearance meant that the contest would be safe.

---

At that moment Björkman left the stage, but not before watching his robots fly around the stage, almost taunting the democratic world with his advanced technology. It was just another reminder of this new world. Björkman's Empire and it's allies had this technology. No one else did. No one else could even come close to what he had achieved. And that was one thing that Björkman and his Empire would always have, his advantage over other countries. The semi-final itself went smoothly, everyone performed and now they were waiting in the green room for the results of the first semi-final. Petra Mede stepped out onto the stage again. She was holding envelopes with the names of each qualifying country. "And the first qualifier is... Moldova!" The audience cheered, but the reaction was muted, almost like they were too busy thinking about something else. "Lithuania!" Again, the audience cheered, but the reaction was the same. Ireland, Estonia, Belarus, Denmark, Russia, Belgium and Ukraine were the other qualifying countries. There was only one place left now for the grand final. Petra opened the final envelope. Anouk sat there glumly, looking down at her Dutch flag. In her mind she had already failed. This was always the way it was, year after year, the Dutch entrants sitting there in the green room, hoping to be the one contained in the last envelope... but it never was. "And the final space in the Eurovision grand final goes to..." At the moment, Petra opened the golden envelope and revealed a Dutch flag inside. "The Netherlands!!!" "What?!" Anouk yelled in disbelief as the audience cheered, "I did it?! I actually did it?! I did it! I qualified! This is amazing! This is incredible!" Anouk was happy, she had made the Netherlands proud by being their first qualifier in many years. But for those who hadn't qualified, it can be a bitter pill to swallow. "Pfftt... easy for you to say," Despina sighed, "This contest is rigged!" "Yeah, screw this dictatorship," Hannah said, "Björkman rigged this like he rigs everything else." "Now, that sounds like the talk of some sore losers back there," Aliona Moon grinned. Suddenly, the lights shut off, casting the arena in darkness. "What the?" they heard Petra's voice "Uh... sorry, everyone... there seems to be some sort of technical difficulty." In the green room, the lights had shut off too. "Technical difficulty?" Farid said, "How could this happen? I thought this was a powerful empire, supposed to be all controlling... supposed to be-" "No..." Robin interrupted him, "What if it's something else, the false flag attack that Marco and Stoyan were talking about earlier..." Then they realised... the fake attack... "We've gotta get out of here right now!" Zlata yelled, but... too late. A loud bang filled the arena, along with clouds of dust in the darkened room, even coming in to the green room. "What the hell?!" Dina coughed, "What is this?" The lights above flickered back into life, revealing... well... not much difference. In the far side of the stadium, where no one was sitting, there was now a large hole in the wall. But, no one had been hurt in the blast. "Well," Dina said, "At least Björkman had the decency not the injure anyone in his fake attack." Emmelie sighed. The words Björkman and decency didn't seem to belong in the same sentence. "Hmm... I think that's more to do with the integrity of the contest than any morals that Björkman may or may not have," Emmelie said, "After all, if people were killed during the Eurovision semi final do you think that they would just let it continue?" "It didn't stop the Olympic Games," Moran said. "That's different... Eurovision's different..." Emmelie said, before adding, "I hope." The audience, the entrants, everyone scrambled out of the arena. Any sense of order was gone, only chaos remained.

---

It took a lot of work convincing the Eurovision entrants that they should stay at the contest, or rather, a lot of threats from Christer Björkman and his robots. Countries from across Europe called for Eurovision 2013 to be cancelled. Björkman paid no attention to it. The Eurovision Song Contest was going to go on, no matter what. That was just how things were in Björkman's Empire. It was Björkman's way, no matter what.

---

It was the night of the second Eurovision semi-final. All the entrants were there again, even those who had been in the first semi-final. It seemed Björkman liked to keep all of the Eurovision entrants in one place, that way it was easier to keep an eye on them. They were a little worried, especially after what had happened in the first semi-final. Björkman, predictably, had used the attack to blame the Free Sweden Alliance and order even more surveillance against the ordinary citizens of Sweden. They hoped that nothing like that would happen again during this semi. The performances themselves went by without incident, and now they were all sitting in the green room, awating the results. The qualifiers of the second semi-final had been read out by Petra. All except for one. There was one final spot left in the Eurovision final. Here they were again, the final envelope. They just hoped that nothing would happen like it did in the first semi-final. Petra opened the envelope. "Who could it be?" Vlatko said, unsure whether he wanted to qualify or not. "Bulgariaaaaaaa!!!" Elitsa yelled, frantically waved her Bulgarian flag as Stoyan looked down to the floor and hoped against hope that they had made it. After all, Björkman's Empire and Bulgaria were such good allies, surely he'd let them qualify? Surely? "Greece!" Petra yelled, as the Greek band jumped up in excitement. "Finally!" Ilias grinned, "We did it!" "What?!" Elitsa said, "Greece? No!!!" "People don't vote for cowards," Esma said as she leaned over to the Bulgarians. "And that's why you didn't qualify, right?" Stoyan snapped. "We didn't qualify because we stood up to this putrid regime, so Björkman rigged it against us," Esma said, "Which is more than can be said for you two bootlickers." "That's enough Esma," Vlatko said, "We don't need this. Not here, not now. Björkman is destroying any chance at world peace and here we are, fighting each other. Stop. Please." Silence descended in the green room. Vlatko was right. This just wasn't the time, or the place. At a time when Björkman was trying to destroy everything, they were fighting amongst themselves instead of fighting against his regime. Why did they need Björkman to tear the world apart when they were pretty good at doing it themselves? The Eurovision entrants agreed that they would do better. No more fighting. Right now what they needed was a show of unity.

---

It was the day after the second semi-final. Luckily, there had been no events like there had during the first semi. The French entrant, Amandine Bourgeois, was walking with Robin Stjernberg. Elitsa and Stoyan had been browsing the internet and had told the other Eurovision contestants all about various rumours that were going around. Rumours had been circulating that Christer Björkman was going to rig the contest for a Swedish victory, just like when he had gate-crashed Baku 2012 and forced Loreen to win. Robin certainly thought a Swedish victory was likely. He didn't like Björkman or the Eurovision at all, but he definitely thought that he was going to win Eurovision. "So," Amandine said, as she and Robin walked down the corridor of the hotel, "I hear that you think you're going to win, is that true?" "Well... everyone's got to vote for us... haven't they?" Robin said, "I mean..." "Oh come on," Amandine rolled her eyes, "You're from the most hated country in the world... you can't complain about possibly not winning." "First of all I didn't complain... wait... most hated..." Robin couldn't even bring himself to finish that sentence. The most hated country in the world. It wasn't the Sweden he had once known, the Sweden he knew was a peaceful, democratic nation, with easygoing people... but this... Björkman's Empire... "Björkman's Empire isn't Sweden..." Robin said finally. "Well what is it then?" Amandine replied. "It's... it's uh... something else..." "It has the same borders as Sweden...it has the same people as Sweden..." Amandine said, "So, it must be Sweden." Robin walked away from her but Amandine followed. "You can't just walk away from the truth," the French woman began, but then they heard voices from the other end of the corridor. Hushed whispered, talking about something that sounded almost secretive. "Why would he show up now?" they heard Aliona's voice. "Why not?" they heard Pasha Parfeny reply, "Lots of people have come back from last year's Eurovision, me and Valentina for example." "Indeed!" Valentina said, "So, will it be easy?" The two of them got closer. All of the other Eurovision entrants were standing there. "Oh! Terribly sorry Amandine, Robin!" Bonnie said, "I knew I had forgot someone! My apologies!" "That's uh... ok..." replied a man. It was last year's British entrant, Engelbert Humperdinck. It seemed the British were planning something. It made sense, Engelbert had been very annoyed at the events during Baku 2012. He wanted to help take down Björkman's Empire once and for all. "Engelbert here's got a plan," Bonnie smiled, "But I'll let him explain it." "Don't worry," Pasha said, "It's really good. We can change the world for the better... if we want to." "Ah, yes, now... where was I... and that's the reason I'm here," Engelbert said, "It's important. To do with the regime." "There's something important that we'll be doing," Bonnie grinned, "Bringing back democracy to Sweden... back to the whole world!" "Democracy isn't real anymore," Ryan Dolan said, "It's all fake. Björkman's Empire has shown us all that. Democracy is fragile and can be easily destroyed." "Nope," Bonnie smiled, "It's real enough... it's just that we can't practice it while Björkman is at large threatening the safety of the world. There'll be plenty of time for that once the revolution is complete and the world is at peace." "Democracy is real and we can have it again," Engelbert said, "History has taught us that. And just because it's fragile, doesn't mean that it's not worth preserving. It just makes it even more worthwhile to fight for." "Better to save this sort of nonsense for tomorrow," Stoyan said, "On the night of the Eurovision final..." "You're only saying that because you didn't qualify," Bonnie snapped. "We're saying it because we want no part in this," Elitsa said, "Björkman's gonna have you all shot for this." "Well we're not saying that-" Stoyan began, "But in this new world we've got to pick our battles very carefully. Against Björkman's Empire no one wins." "See?!" Esma said, "Look at this attitude they've got! Cowardly! This is exactly how the Nazis got away with so much! No one stood up to them! We need to stand up now if we are to save the world from this oppressive ruler!" "Thank you Esma. And I'd rather get this started sooner, rather than later," Engelbert said, "Today would be a good day to take down Björkman's Empire once and for all." "Any day would be a good day to take down this dictatorship," Sophie said. "Indeed. I already see that the Bulgarians want no part in taking down the murderous tyranny that is the Björkman Regime," Engelbert continued, "I do hope Elitsa and Stoyan remember that when this war is over between democracy and tyranny, people will want revenge on the Quislings that made the world this way in the first place." "R-Revenge?!" Stoyan repeated. "You heard me," Engelbert snapped, "Cowards, the lot of you. Now be quiet Bulgarians, I need no further input from you. Ok, so let's talk through this, I've been in contact with the Swedish resistance. The Free Swedish Army, also known as the Free Sweden Alliance, were framed for the attack which they did not commit, but that's another story. As we are incredibly close to where Björkman is in the palace I think their new invention may be able to help us. By pretending to be with Bonnie's Eurovision team I have managed to get into Sweden, so now I can assist you in this plan." "Wait so, you're not really on her Eurovision team?" Emmelie asked. "Of course not," Engelbert laughed, "Well, not really. We're good friends who are both in the resistance, I pretended I had worked on the Eurovision entry to get a pass from Björkman into Malmö. Now that I'm here though, we can attack the regime directly, using Eurovision as a base." "I... don't know about this..." Valentina said. "Don't worry," Engelbert smiled, "I'll need minimal input from most of you, and when the machine is activated, there will be no risk of anything bad happening to us anyway." "Machine?" Andrius asked, puzzled. "Ah, yes. So, this something we've been working on for sometime," Engelbert continued, "There's a machine we've made that, once we steal the special component from Björkman, will bring peace to the world, a true peace, one which we have never known before." "That's great!" Anouk smiled, "And what is the component?" "Well, it's not so much a component," Engelbert said, "There's a piece of paper that Björkman has... somewhere in his office, I'll assume. It looks like this." Engelbert brought out a blank piece of yellow paper embroided with the Björkman's Empire symbol, a triangle inside a circle. "Now," he continued, "This paper will have on it the code for the deactivation of Björkman's killer robots. Now then, once we have this code, we can shut down all of these robots... and put and end to this madness once and for all." "Wait. All of them?!" Eyþór asked. "Of course," Engelbert said, "It's the only sure way to put a stop to his tyranny." "But," Elitsa said, "That means all the robots will shut down, including the good ones in Iceland and... Eyþór..." "What?! We can't do that!" Stoyan said, "It's not fair! Eyþór looked down at his feet. Did it really have to come to this? But if it didn't, then Björkman would be free to continue his reign of terror. Eyþór sighed. "It's ok, I understand," Eyþór said, "You have to do it. You must do it. The world will never be safe while Björkman's Empire still exists." "No!" Bonnie said, "There must be another way! You can't do this!" "Trust me," Engelbert said, "If there was a way to keep the good robots in Iceland, then we'd do it. But there isn't. So we can't." "It's ok," Eyþór said, "We need to get rid of him, no matter what the cost. Björkman has literally destroyed Iceland, we'll be glad to have the Empire taken down, even if we won't be around to see it." "Don't bother," Stoyan smiled, "We don't need to do this. Björkman's Empire isn't so bad." "Yeah," Elitsa grinned, "It's really quite amazing once you give it a chance!" "Exactly!" Stoyan said, "We don't have to do anything bad, and we don't have to shut down Eyþór!" "The Empire has done so many good things," Elitsa continued. "What good things?! Can you two just shut up for a moment?!" Eyþór yelled, "I for once am sick of your sycophantic crawling to Christer Björkman. I know Bulgaria and Sweden have an alliance, but be quiet! You clearly don't know what you're talking about when you talk about Björkman's Empire! I say we do it. Deactivate all of the robots." "What? You can't be serious-" Stoyan began. "He is serious, it is necessary," Engelbert said, getting annoyed, "Now then, I need someone who can go into Björkman's office and get the piece of paper. It will probably be somewhere prominent and easily located, I however cannot guarantee it. So, is anyone here willing to go?" "You can count us out," Elitsa said. "Pfft... I wasn't expecting either of you two," Engelbert said, "No, we need someone with real courage to go and do this for the benefit of all humanity." "I'd go," Eyþór said, "But I think as a robot I'd be detected." "Ah, yes," Engelbert said, "My theory is that Björkman has a device for detecting when robots are nearby." "Yes, and robots can detect other robots too. After the attack on Iceland the other robots kept on finding us," Eyþór said. "Then you cannot go," Engelbert said, "Surely someone else is willing?" The Eurovision entrants were silent. Of course no one wanted to risk themselves in the battle against Björkman's Empire. This would be a very dangerous mission if caught. "What about you, if you're so brave," Stoyan said, rolling his eyes. "Well, uh, well," Engelbert said, "I uh... am of course needed, for my expertise! If anything were to happen to me then the plan would surely fail!" "Yeah yeah, whatever," Elitsa said. "I'm not sure this is a good idea," Marco said. "It's a great idea," Engelbert said, "We just need someone who will do this." Silence fell across the room again. Anouk looked around her. She was one of the few people there who had personally seen the bad things that Björkman could do. "You know what, I'll go," Anouk said, "It's not like I'm any use around here anyway." "Don't say that," Robin said, "Look, I'll go." "No," Anouk said, "My decision is final, I'm going to go." "Well then," Vlatko said, "Good luck Anouk, we know you can do it." "What, are we just going to sit here and let for go?" Bonnie said, "I'm sorry, we can't let her do that." "Someone has to," Marco said, "And Anouk wants to, what's the problem?" "She's just a young girl," Bonnie said, "She hasn't lived, she hasn't experienced life, not properly, I'll go in her place." "Oh Bonnie, that's very kind if you and all," Anouk said, "But Marco's right, I want to do this. I need payback, for what Björkman did to me. I'm more than just his sick genetic experiment. And I'm going to prove it. I'll have time during the voting... we'll do it then." "We can't let you do this!" Stoyan said, "Stop all this nonsense talk at once!" "We will do it," Anouk said, "We can and we will." "You can't do it," Elitsa smiled suddenly, she'd just had one of those ideas again, "If you do, we'll tell Björkman." The other entrants were taken aback by this. "You wouldn't dare!" Bonnie said. "Try me," Elitsa grinned. "E-Elisa... maybe now is not the time for this," Stoyan whispered. At which point the Icelandic robot rolled up his sleeve and revealed his laser gun, now fully repaired by the greatest scientists in Iceland. "He's right Elitsa, now isn't the time," Eyþór yelled, the usually calm Icelandic now in a complete and utter rage, "I have watched my people get slaughtered by that despot, and you dare to defend him? I don't want to but I am prepared to shoot the both of you if you stand in the way of the revolution." The two Bulgarians backed down at this. "O-of course we weren't defending him," Stoyan said, "We won't bother you, we promise." "Good," Eyþór replied, "You two better make sure it stays that way. Or else." Silence filled the room. No one quite knew what to say. Nobody was really handling this well. "I have a question," Vlatko spoke up, "Why should it be our responsibility to take out Björkman? We are just Eurovision contestants, after all. It's not our job, and it shouldn't have to be." "Lozano..." Esma said, and Vlatko looked up, usually Esma didn't call him by that nickname, "Stop... he still has his gun out, stop." "Wait wait wait," Vlatko said, "I didn't mean... I didn't..." Eyþór stopped. Of course they were scared of him, he was one of Björkman's robots, after all. He hadn't meant to scare them like that, that wasn't his intention. He looked over at the two Bulgarians, Elitsa and Stoyan, who looked terrified of him. The same thing could be said for the Macedonians. Eyþór looked down at his feet, and then to the gun he was holding. This wasn't what he wanted. Eyþór wasn't a violent person, he didn't want to hurt anyone. Björkman had done this to him. His regime had done this to him. "Oh, don't worry," Eyþór put his gun away, "You two have nothing to fear from me. Mr. Lozanoski, you are correct of course, it should not be our responsiblity. But unfortunately for us, it is. If we don't do this now, who else is going to do this? No one." Eyþór looked out of the window. The sky was thick with smog, more robots were being created. This was the reality of Sweden now. "And I understand your reluctance Vlatko, I really do," Eyþór continued, "Björkman has threatened Macedonia once before, but unless he is stopped now, he will do it again. And next time he might make good on his threat." Vlatko sighed. Björkman had threatened Macedonia with war when he didn't like their first candidate for a Eurovision entry, "Imperija." He even went as far as kidnapping Kaliopi, their 2012 entrant, but luckily they managed to get her back. It proved one thing to the people of Macedonia, that attacking Björkman doesn't get anyone anywhere. Christer Björkman was incredibly unpopular there, but so was the resistance movement. Vlatko didn't really want to get involved with taking down Björkman's Empire himself, but if other people were going to do it, then he wasn't going to stand in their way. Many others in the room felt the same way as him. "Alright, so we are all agreed?" Engelbert said, "Good. The plan takes place during the Eurovision final."

---

It was the day of the Eurovision final, and all of the participants of the contest were waiting in the green room. Anouk was ready. The plan was this, when Petra announced the voting would start, she would slip out of the green room, and find Björkman's personal room. It didn't matter long she took, as the Eurovision final was going to be a lot longer than it had ever been before. A two hour presentation on Björkman and his empire was going to be played during the voting. So Anouk could take as long as she needed to. The time whizzed by, songs were performed, Petra made jokes, audience cheering, flag waving. All under the banner of Björkman's Empire. Anouk was waiting for the moment. And then Petra said the words that Anouk had been waiting for. "Europe!" Petra smiled, "Start voting... now!" This was it, it was time. Anouk slipped out of the green room. Björkman's room was easy enough to find, for it had a huge golden door which read 'Emperor Björkman' in silver writing. She opened the door a little, and discovered that there was no one inside. She quietly stepped into the room. No robots here, nor any sign of them. She was relieved, this was going to be a lot easier than she thought. In front of her, a simple wooden table. She looked down and saw a yellow piece of paper, on it the triangle inside the circle that was the symbol of Björkman's Empire. She picked it up, looking at it carefully. This was definitely it. There was some sort of code on it. Anouk didn't understand it herself, but she assumed Engelbert would. "This must be it then," she whispered to herself, tucking it into her pocket. "Oh dear, look what we have here," a robotic voice came from behind her. She spun around to find Jon Ola Sand staring at her. "Digging through my master's things, are you?" "N-no!" Anouk replied. "Looks like you are to me. Stupid girl." The robot looked down at Anouk, her pink feathers showing under her sleeves. He looked down at her feathers in disgust. So she was one of Björkman's genetic experiments. "Ah, one if the failed experiments, that explains a lot," Jon replied, "I thought Björkman had you all killed. He should have done, you're nothing compared to us." "No... I..." Anouk tried to run but the robot grabbed her with it's metallic arms. "Let go of me!!!" The robot just laughed. "It's funnier when they try to escape," he laughed, "Go on little birdie, go on. Try and fly away!" Anouk struggled and tried to free herself but the robot held on tight. "Aw, little birdie can't escape, what a shame," the robot roared with laughter, obviously getting some sort of sick pleasure from this. A bright light filled the room as Jon blasted his cannon at Anouk, sending the Dutch girl flying across the floor and knocking her into the wall. And still she struggled to get up. She wouldn't let herself be defeated. Not by him. She had to be strong, she had to prove herself. This tyranny would only end if people like her stood up to people like Björkman. She couldn't just sit by and do nothing, she had to stop this, stop this tyranny, stop this empire, stop all of it. Jon Ola Sand only saw a weak, pitiful creature before him, but she knew she was strong... she knew she could do this. The robot laughed again as he towered over Anouk. "Oh dear, can't even stand one blast from us, can you? You're weak. Dumb experiment. And then to rifle through his things like you don't remember who gave you life? Honestly, you're as bad as the defectors are." 'He... didn't... give me life," Anouk said, "I was happy... before... we all were... before he came... and turned me into this freak!" She struggled to stand up and unsteadily walked back to the green room. The robot just laughed as Anouk got away, not realising she had slipped the important piece of paper, hidden it inside her pocket. She took it out as she slowly went through the corridor and back into the green room. "Anouk!" Natalia screamed as Anouk stumbled back into the green room. It was clear she had been shot. The contestants all gathered around her. They were ashamed of themselves, Anouk had been the only one brave enough to fetch the paper, now she was paying the price. But she wasn't upset, she smiled at them, even as she struggled to stand upright. "Anouk! What's happened?!" Krista yelled, running over to her. "I... I got it," Anouk said as she fell to the floor, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a piece of paper, thrusting it into Engelbert's hand. "It'll take a few hours to process this," Engelbert said, "I'll go back to the hotel and start right away. I'm sorry Anouk, we shouldn't have let this happen." "Will I be ok...?" Anouk said, unsure if she wanted to know the answer. "Hey," Nodi said, trying to cheer her up, "I was shot by a robot too and I survived it!" "Thanks... Nodiko..." Anouk said, "I hope... I can be as lucky as you were...." "Of course you will," Nodi smiled, "You're a fighter, Anouk, and we know you'll pull through this. We know you can do it!" "She is going to be alright, isn't she?" Stoyan asked. "Of course she will!" Engelbert smiled, unsure whether it would be polite to just leave already, "You'll be right as rain in no time!" "Thanks Engelbert," Anouk smiled, "It sure means a lot coming from you." "Engelbert, can I have a word please," Bonnie whispered, "In private." And with that Bonnie took Engelbert outside the green room. "What is it Bonnie?" "Why don't you tell her the truth Engelbert?" Bonnie whispered so that they wouldn't be heard by the others in the green room, "She's gonna die and you know it, there's no way she can stand a hit from one of those things. No one can." "Nodiko did," Engelbert muttered. "That was a special case, she's as good as dead, you know it, and I know it. Don't give her false hope Engelbert, tell her the truth already." "Bonnie," Engelbert said, "Hasn't the poor girl been through enough already? Don't make things even worse. There's nothing we can do to help her. Look, I really must go. Tell her she'll be fine. Do it Bonnie, you know it's the right thing to do." And with that Bonnie returned to the green room. "Anouk..." she said. "Yes?" Anouk said, trying to sit up on her chair. "Engelbert says you're definitely gonna be fine!" Bonnie beamed, but it was a false smile. Anouk didn't seem to notice. "That's great! I'm so happy," Anouk smiled, "You people are truly wonderful, I knew you wouldn't let anything bad happen to me..." "Of course we wouldn't," Valentina said, "You're our little star!" "Thank you... I'm so happy... we qualified for the first time in eight years... it's... so good... to make the Netherlands proud..." "Hang in there Anouk," Birgit said, "You can make it, we can do this!" "And when we win, when we take him down," Anouk smiled, "You're all invited to the Netherlands and we can have a big party! I felt really bad, I didn't come to the Eurovision in Concert... I didn't get a chance earlier to meet all you wonderful people..." "Hey, hey," Vlatko said, "That was such a long time ago, that doesn't matter now... what matters now is that you're here, with us!" "Thank you Vlatko, you are too kind. I don't deserve your kindness, from any of you." "Why do you say that?" Natalia asked, "You're one if the kindest people I've ever met in my whole life." "You... really mean that?" "Of course I do," Natalia smiled, "You're so kind, and brave too. I hope that I'll be as brave as you one day." "So... you'll all come, won't you...?" Anouk asked, "To my party?" "Of... of course we will," Bonnie said, trying to hold back the tears. "Oh Bonnie, we'll have such fun, we're going to be the best of friends. It will be so wonderful... to have all of you there... my friends..." Anouk fell out of her chair and sprawled across the floor. "Everything's going... dark..." she said, "What's happening..." "Engelbert said she was going to be fine," Nodi said, "What's happening?" "We need to get her to a hospital, quick!" Marco yelled, "Something's wrong!" "Why do you guys worry about me," Anouk whispered, "I am not important, I am a nothing, a no-one..." "Don't you dare say that," Vlatko said, "Don't you give up on us Anouk, you're gonna pull through this, you hear me?" "I... hear you..." came the mumbled reply from the Dutch entrant. "There, you're be alright," Vlatko said, "You stay with us, ok?" "I'll try... Vlatko..." Anouk said, "Engelbert said... I'll be fine... so..." "It's ok," Despina said, "It's ok, you're going to be ok." "She'll be fine," Nodiko smiled, "Those robots aren't so tough." A few minutes passed, the entrants growing increasingly concerned for Anouk. Bonnie had assured her that she was going to be fine, but Anouk was starting to get very worried, something was wrong. "It's cold... what's happening... why..." Anouk tried to get up again but couldn't. "I'm so sorry, Anouk," Bonnie whispered. "S...sorry?! You... you promised I'd be fine..." Anouk cried as realisation set in, "You promised!" "Bonnie!" Nodi said, "You said she was going to be fine!" "You lied to me! You lied!" Anouk yelled, and that was the final thing she said as she fell to the floor. "Anouk!!!" Roberto yelled, but it was no use. "Leave her, there's nothing we can do," Bonnie said, "It was always going to be this way." "You knew this was going to happen all along?!" Amandine yelled. "It was always going to happen," Bonnie admitted, "There was nothing we could have done for her..." "You evil woman..." Elitsa hissed, at which Bonnie simply rolled her eyes, "Why did you make us think that-" "It was hope, Elitsa, I gave her hope in her final moments," Bonnie said, "Giving hope is not evil... hope never dies... maybe... maybe it was however, the wrong decision... maybe I should have told her..." "You're damn right you should have!" Vlatko yelled, seething with anger, "Why did this have to happen? Why Anouk?!" "There was no other way that could have ended..." Bonnie said. "Why?!" yelled Vlatko, "Why is everything so unfair?!" Silence descended on the room. Was this a victory for democracy? Because it sure didn't feel like one. "We should go back to the hotel..." Bonnie said finally, looking down towards the floor. "Go back to the hotel?!" Stoyan yelled, "Excuse me?! Someone's just died here, in case you haven't been paying attention. Have some respect." "I do realise," Bonnie said, "But Anouk sacraficed herself so that we could put an end to this tyranny. I know you're all upset but we have to do something. A lot more good people will die if we allow Björkman's Empire to continue. The plan must continue... no matter our losses..."" "And to be fair," Cezar added, "I don't think Bonnie should be taking lessons in 'respect' from someone still wearing the uniform of the Björkman regime." The two Bulgarians shifted uneasily in their seats. They were of course still wearing the yellow uniform of Björkman's Empire, and had defended the regime many times. But here was the result of Björkman's Empire. This was the reality of a tyrannical dictatorship, that innocent people would die because of one despotic leader.

---

When the other contestants arrived back at the hotel, they found Engelbert working hard on his device, trying to prepare it with the activation code. "Anouk..." Natalia began. "I know..." was all Engelbert said. It was all that needed to be said. "So you both knew..." Vlatko growled. "It was the only way..." Engelbert said, "We're sorry." "No you're not!" Natalia yelled, "None of you are! This is all your fault! Why did we ever listen to you?!" "Natalia," Engelbert said sternly, "What you have just witnessed was sure to have been distressing so I am prepared to be civil with you. There is only one man who is to blame for what happened to Anouk. And his name is Christer Björkman. Now, maybe we should have done more to protect her... but she was brave. She died protecting the revolution, protecting democracy, and, wherever she is now, I'm sure she is proud of us." A little while later, the device beeped. Engelbert stopped. "Is the device ready?" Emmelie asked. "Yes," Engelbert said, before adding, with less certainty, "I think so." "Well, then that will have to be good enough," Bonnie said. "We should go outside..." Engelbert said, "The signal will be stronger... the device will work better outside." Some of them were quite confused about how this device could possibly work, and were unsure about whether it would work at all... but they said nothing and simply followed the Brit outside. And there they were, in the dark city outside. Looking around, there was no one outside except for them. It seemed that the one vibrant Swedish city was now a dystopian ghost town, and they all knew the reason. Of course, Björkman's official orders stated that all Swedish citizens had to remain inside and watch the Eurovision Song Contest. It was Melodifestivalen all over again. This had to stop. They hoped that this machine would work. If it didn't, then everything had been for nothing. At that moment, the Eurovision entrants looked up to the dark night sky and saw some strange shapes hovering in the distance. They were too small to make out exactly what they were, but they could hear the distant buzzing sound that they knew all too well. "I think those are robots..." Andrius said, "We should get out of here." "They are," Eyþór said, "But don't worry, they haven't seen us. I would be able to sense it if they'd saw us." "We should turn the device on now then before they see us," said Aliona, casting a look over to Engelbert and Bonnie, "Are we all ready?" Bonnie was now holding the device. For all the complicated talk Engelbert would give on how it functioned, it was simply a grey box with a blue button on top. Looked simple enough. Whether she could push the button was another matter. "Do it, Bonnie," Engelbert smiled. Bonnie Tyler looked down at the button in her hand. Could she really do this? "I'm so sorry, I can't do it," Bonnie said, looking across at the Icelandic robot standing beside her. How could she kill the good with the bad? It wasn't fair. Did the end really justify the means? And with that, Eyþór snatched the button out of her hand. "You can't do it," the Icelandic replied, "But I can..." And with that he pressed the button, signalling the end of Björkman's Empire, but also the end of the Icelandic robot community. "Eyþór no!" Birgit yelled. "He had to do it," Robin said, "For the good of all of us." "Exactly," Eyþór smiled, "It... it was important... for the good for Iceland. Otherwise Anouk gave her life for nothing... and I can't allow that. Don't feel bad for me, because I don't feel bad about it. The deactivation will begin soon... but don't be sad for me... because I am happy." "Oh Eyþór why!" Birgit wailed.

---

Björkman was sitting in his office, Jon Ola Sand, his most trusted robot, sitting beside him, Suddenly, Jon fell to the floor. "Jon?" Björkman asked, "What's wrong?!" "Arrrgh... someone's activated a kill switch," Jon said. "What, no! It's impossible!" Björkman yelled, "Only I can do that! How could this happen?!" "I don't know! You've got to escape Sweden now, go Christer," Jon said, "Go! Go and save yourself." "No!" Björkman said defiantly, "I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you!" "I'll... try my best... Christer..." Jon struggled to stand up. "It won't end like this. I give the Last Order," Björkman spoke into a microphone on the desk. "Last... Order... are you sure?" "Yes, I am sure. They won't get away with this Jon, I won't let them destroy what we have."

---

The Last Order. If anything were to go wrong during the Eurovision, he had told all of the robots who were guarding the stadium that they were to fly into the crowd. And self-destruct. The audience cheered and waved flags for their countries, eagerly anticipating the results of this year's Eurovision Song Contest. They had come to Sweden, despite the regime, to enjoy a song contest that they loved. Now they would pay the price. The robots who were guarding the doors began to fly into the crowd as Petra looked on, shocked. "Excuse me?!" Petra said into the microphone, "What is happening?!" She didn't know about the Last Order. Neither did the audience as they were puzzled at the robots coming close to them. Some of them quite enjoyed having a robot close to them, getting to see what they looked like up close and taking pictures with their iphones. Until the first one exploded. A deafening boom shattered the windows as Petra dived onto the floor of the stage. More robots blew themselves up as Petra looked on, horrified. Screams and smoke filled the air as the surviving fans rushed to escape the stadium. Only when the smoke settled was the full extent of the devastation clear.

---

"The hell is happening out there?!" Emmelie yelled as the entrants heard the explosions from outside the hotel. "I don't know..." Robin said, "Something bad..." "I can see it... I can see what's happening there!" Eyþór yelled, "He's gave a terrible order! He's killing all of them!" "Shhh, shhh," Birgit said, comforting the robot in his deactivation, "We'll deal with this... whatever it is." "No we bloody won't," Stoyan said, "There's nothing we can do about this. It's none of our business." "Yeah," Elitsa added, "If you guys wanna go out there and get shot then it's up to you." "Cowards! You guys stay with Eyþór, I'm going to the stadium," Emmelie hissed as she swung open the door and walked out of the room. She was going to see exactly what the problem was. Malmö Arena wasn't that far from the hotel, and she soon got there. Walking through an open back door, she wondered why no robots were there guarding it as usual. Was deactivation really that fast? She opened the door cautiously and stepped out onto the stage. She immediately regretted it. The robots had flown out into the audience and blown themselves up, killing many innocent Eurovision fans. This was what the Swedish dictator had ordered, this was what the reality of Björkman's Empire meant. "Oh my god, oh my god," Petra kept repeating as she looked on at the horror in front of her. "NO!" Emmelie yelled, "NO NO NO!" "Emmelie!" Petra yelled, shocked, "The robots... they... how could Christer do this?"

---

Meanwhile, the robots who weren't part of the Last Order began to fall to the ground, deactivated. Eyþór fell to the ground too, as the Eurovision entrants gathered around him. "It's starting..." he said, "The deactivation is starting, I can feel it..." "Eyþór!" Birgit yelled, "Hold on! Guys, there must be something we can do!" "No, there is nothing that can be done for him," Robin said sadly, "I'm so sorry." "Stay... with me..." Eyþór said, "Don't... go... yet..." "We're not going to leave you, don't worry," Birgit whispered, holding the robot close to her. The Icelandic robot didn't say another word. It was over. The robots were no more. They should have been happy, but they weren't. Their Icelandic friend was now gone too, and there were many good robots in Iceland who were now also deactivated. It seemed that there could never be a truly happy ending, where evil is entirely vanquished and good entirely saved. These decisions were the hardest they had ever had to make. "Eyþór..." Birgit said. "So that's it," Robin said, "It's over..." "Why did we have to get rid of the good, to get rid of the bad?" Amandine whispered, "Everything is so unfair." "Welcome to Sweden," Robin sighed. At that moment, Emmelie ran back into the room in horror. The robots might be finally gone, but Björkman had made sure that there was one final act of devastation before the end. "Oh my god, oh my god!" Emmelie was yelling as she ran back inside the hotel room. "Emmelie, calm down!" Ryan said, running over to her, "Are you alright? You're shaking, good heavens!" "There's been a mass murder!" Emmelie screamed, trying to find the right words, "Björkman ordered his robots to self-destruct in the middle of the crowd! He's attacked the audience oh god, oh my god-" "What?!" Bonnie yelled, shocked. They knew Björkman was low... but this took it to another level altogether. Even they were surprised at this, even after everything else Björkman had done.

---

Meanwhile, Björkman watched in horror as Jon Ola Sand crashed to the ground, deactivated. He looked out of the window and saw all his robots that were once flying in the sky now crashing to the ground. The source of his power, falling all around him, crashing, destroyed. His robots lying on the floor motionless, Christer Björkman saw that his empire was crumbling before him. He had no power over anyone without his menacing machines. But there was one final thing he could do before his tyranny came to an end. One final act of revenge. Even worse than the Last Order. Björkman pressed a red button on his desk. It was the signal for the Swedish air force to prepare to use their nuclear weaponry. It was the beginning of the nuclear attack that the whole world had feared. He was angry enough about the deaths of his robots to risk a nuclear winter. It was only a matter of time before the whole world plunged into a nuclear war.

---

Meanwhile, the Eurovision entrants were roaming the corridors of the Malmö Arena, robots lying about everywhere, deactivated. It seemed that the peace they had longed for was finally going to become a reality, even if many innocent people had lost their lives in the fight for democracy. Soon they came across a robot that had fell to the floor, next to a box full of guns. "It must have been delivering guns to Björkman," Roberto said, "Here, there's a ton of guns here, if we all took one then we'd easily defeat Björkman." Some of them were a little apprehensive about the thought of holding weapons and even worse, the possibility of using them, but the protection they offered was undeniable. "We'd better return to the green room with them," Bonnie said. Emmelie shuddered at the thought of having to see the scene of the Last Order yet again. "We'll go the other way Emmelie," Bonnie said, "Through the side door. You won't have to see it again."

---

But scenes of chaos and destruction would be seen again. Because Björkman wasn't quite finished yet. The city of London was at peace. Children were kicking footballs to each other in the park, birds tweeting in the sky. Little squirrels jumped from the trees. All in all, it was a wonderful place to be, and although the idea of nuclear war constantly hung over the adults heads, the children were carefree, and didn't waste any time worrying about a country so far away from the UK. What could a tiny country like Sweden do to them anyway? Meanwhile, overhead, engines roared. People pointed up at the strange planes that now dotted the London skyline and cast darkness upon the city. Piloted by the last remaining Swedes in the army who were loyal to Björkman's regime, they soon started to rain death upon the inhabitants of the British capital. They had seen the nuclear attack on Iceland on the TV, but had never expected Sweden to turn on them too. A nuclear missile smashed into Big Ben, causing the clock tower to crumble and collapse onto the people on the streets below, as people dived into the Thames to get away from the fire. Buckingham Palace glowed red and burned down to the ground. The Millennium Dome crumbled and collapsed, the skyline that was once a pale pastel blue now a deep fiery red. Screams filled the air as people tried to run to safety and find their loved ones. Grey smoke and red fire was everywhere. In just a few minutes the city of London had been completely destroyed. The nation had truly been broken.

---

Meanwhile the remaining entrants of the Eurovision were watching the TV, hoping to see some news, any news about the robots being switched off, Emmelie still thinking about what she had seen earlier. The mood was sad as they all sat there in the green room, some looking across at the empty seats that had been reserved for the Netherlands and Iceland, the small Dutch and Icelandic flags folded small enough to fit on the tables in front of them. They sat there, waiting for any sign on the television that they had definitely won, that they had really done it, because they didn't really believe it themselves. But it wasn't over. Not yet. Things were about to get a whole lot worse. "Is it over?" Stoyan asked, "Is this it?" "They should be showing it on the news any minute now," Zlata said, "All the robots should be deactivated by now. Hopefully that is it. We've finished Björkman's tyranny." "Yes, but we should make sure that we have finished it for good," Despina said, "We've got to go and capture Björkman immediately. Before he does something else. He doesn't have his robots guarding him anymore, and we've all got our guns." The news was filled with images of the Last Order, the world was shocked that such a thing could happen during the Eurovision Song Contest. In fact it was so terrible that it seemed no one in the media had noticed that the robots had all been deactivated. Not yet, anyway. The images of the burning stadium, Eurovision in disrepute... they thought this would be the worst of it, but they were wrong. Suddenly, the news switched to images of a burning London, zooming in on the ruined London Eye and the fire that was quickly engulfing the Queen's residence. Nuclear bombs were also starting to hit other major British cities, there was no escape as the United Kingdom fell into chaos. The country had went into a state of panic and underwent a complete and total meltdown. Newsreaders estimated that the tiny island nation may never fully recover. It was hard news to take for the British Eurovision entrant herself. "WHAT?!" Bonnie screamed in disbelief. "Just when you thought Björkman couldn't get any worse..." Roberto said, looking at the screen in shock. No one else said anything, they couldn't think of anything to say. Even after everything that had happened, they hadn't expected this.

---

The attacks on London continued, and it was all unfolding in front of them. And yet the Bulgarians still held on to some sort of misguided alliance to the regime. After all, Bulgarian citizens had been saturated with Swedish propaganda ever since the alliance was signed. "This is all your fault," Stoyan said, "You all had to be wannabe heroes, now look where it's got us! This is what happens when you mess with Björkman! You made this happen!" "We told you," Elitsa said, "We told you not to do these pointless things of yours. This really is all your fault." Bonnie was enraged by this. "How bloody dare you blame all this on us!" Bonnie screamed, as Marco had to physically hold her back from the two Bulgarians. "All your fault," Elitsa continued, "If you guys hadn't tried to take down the Empire, then none of this would have happened. Anouk and Eyþór would still be with us." "How dare you even use their names!" Bonnie yelled, "They gave their lives for freedom! Something that you two cowards wouldn't understand!" "Count yourselves lucky I'm holding Bonnie back," Marco said, "If you two idiots ever say anything so stupid ever again, I won't be doing this next time." Valentina interrupted them. "Stop it, please! Please stop! There's no time for this! We've got to go get Björkman now!" Valentina yelled, "Before he escapes!" Yes, now more than ever, the Eurovision entrants felt it was their job to capture the dictator and bring justice to Sweden. After all, it was them who had taken down the regime... now it was up to them to finish what they'd started. "We can't let him escape from justice..." Esma said, "Not after this... we just can't." "Yes, we should go," said Moran, "Bonnie, Engelbert, you guys stay here. I understand what you have just seen must be hard for you." And so they ran off, leaving the two Brits behind to contemplate the complete destruction of their country. Even after all the stories of what the despotic Swede was capable of, they were still shocked by this. The Brits thought that it could never happen to them, not here, not in Britain. How could Björkman do this to their country? Why?

---

"How dare he, how bloomin' dare he!" Zlata yelled as the Eurovision entrants rushed off to Björkman's residence, "He has no right to do this!" He had taken so much from the world, and given nothing back. The Eurovision entrants knew they had to do something, and now was their chance. Björkman had come to Malmö to see the Eurovision, and now, the Eurovision was going to take down his dictatorship once and for all. They were here, finally here. This was the room in the stadium that was reserved with the tyrant Christer Björkman. The contestants were determined to end his tyranny. On approaching the door, they saw heaps of deactivated robots piled around the place. His guards. They wouldn't do him much good now. The entrants barged into the room, robots littering the floor, and Jon Ola Sand, Björkman's right hand man, now lying on the floor, deactivated. Björkman was there, cowering behind a chair, looking down at the deactivated robot sitting beside him. "Not so tough now, are you Björkman?" Zlata said, waving her gun at him, "Not so brave without your rustbuckets to do all your dirty work." "No... please," Björkman threw himself to the floor, "Don't kill me, please! I'll do anything!" "Coward," Zlata hissed. "Oh don't worry, we're not monsters like you," Moran said, "We'll make sure you get a fair trial, unlike any of your victims." "Thank you," Björkman muttered. "No..." Esma took out her gun and took aim, "That would be an injustice. Too many lives have been lost because of this man... we must never allow this to happen again." "No... no Esma please!" Björkman begged, "Please don't shoot me!" "Esma!" Vlatko said, "What are you doing? Surely we don't have the right to do this?" "And he didn't have the right to take so many people's lives," Esma replied, "Yet he still did it." "No, no," Björkman yelled, his hands held up in surrender, "Stop! Don't!" "Christer Björkman..." Esma said coldly, her gun still pointing at the trembling dictator, "We find you guilty of being a murderer and a war criminal... many innocent lives have been lost because of you..." "No, no, I'm sorry!" "It's no use," Esma said, "I'm going to make sure you never do anything like this ever again..." "Esma, stop," Stoyan said, "We'll only be sinking to his level... shooting him will make us just as bad as him. Don't do this." "Oh , my Bulgarian friend, thank you," Björkman grinned, convincing himself that they weren't going to shoot him, that he had gotten away with it. "Stoyan," Esma said, "We could never be as bad as this idiot... this complete and utter tyrant who has caused the deaths of millions of people... no. To let him live would be the real crime. His victims deserve justice. Real justice." With that she fired her weapon, and with a bang, the despot was no more. "There... it's finished," Esma said, "We've finally finished..." The Eurovision entrants just stood there in silence for a few minutes. They could hardly believe it. They had done it. It was over, it was finally over.

---

And yet, for many people, it wasn't over. The true hardship had only just begun. The deaths of the British royal family in the nuclear attack on London lead to the United Kingdom, while still referred to as the UK, becoming a republic. Much of Iceland was still destroyed from Björkman's attack back in February. It would take many years for Britain and Iceland to pick up the pieces of their ruined countries. It would be harder still for Sweden to get back on the road to becoming a democracy again after having a dictatorship for so long, but the Swedes were determined to try their hardest, even though the entire world seemed to blame Sweden as a whole for the war... for the destruction... rather than just blaming Björkman. But, even though there were problems, it seemed that the world was getting back on track, that tyranny of any form in Europe was finally over, that people could live their lives in peace as they had done previously. That there would be no more violence. Things were going back to normal at a slow but steady pace. And yet, for all the mass celebrations that broke out all over the planet, there was still one unanswered question lingering in everyone's minds... what should they do with the defeated Scandinavian nation? What should become of Sweden now? How responsible were they for the actions of Björkman's Empire? But for now, these questions passed by, without an answer. These things could wait, for now, the world could settle down and look forward to the dawn of a new era... one that would hopefully be a peaceful one. At least nuclear war had been averted. They were thankful for that, at least.

---

Winning wasn't everything, Anouk had been happy enough just to qualify. Krista reminded herself of that as she folded the Dutch flag small enough to fit inside the suitcase. It was Anouk's, but the other entrants all agreed that Krista should take it with her. Anouk and Krista had been very good friends, Krista still couldn't believe what had happened. And now, the Eurovision journey was coming to an end. All the participants of the Eurovision Song Contest were preparing to return to their respective countries. They had made it, they were the lucky ones. The Eurovision entrants would soon be on a plane, it was finally time for them to go home. Leaving behind Sweden, leaving behind this singing contest that had become so much more than just that. They still hadn't found out what the results of the contest were, the events with Björkman had happened before the voting as revealed, but Krista didn't care. That wasn't important, that wasn't what mattered right now.

---

Krista went downstairs to find everyone else gathering in the main lobby. Vasilis from Koza Mostra was standing on the steps and reading from a sheet of paper. "Now, I understand that this is probably a bad time," Vasilis said, "But, on account of the competition being... cancelled... towards the end..." some of the entrants shuddered at the memories of the Last Order, "The EBU has sent the Eurovision results directly to... me! For some reason. Ah, it's very detailed. Ok, so, first of all, the winner is, Denmark! Well, I guess that's all we need to know for now. These results are going to be published by the EBU soon enough. Congratulations Denmark, you won." "Oh, uh, yay?" Emmelie wasn't much in the mood for celebrating, and neither was anyone else. Although this did clear up one thing. Next year's Eurovision would be held somewhere in Denmark, that is, if the EBU even allowed it to take place.

---

And they did. Petra Mede spoke to the European national broadcasters who confirmed that they would allow a 2014 contest to take place next year in Denmark. Not that it gave much comfort to those who had lost loved ones in Björkman's attack on the contest... the Last Order. Nor did it make any of the 2013 entrants feel better, apart from perhaps Valentina, who announced her intention to enter again for San Marino soon after she arrived back home. At first she had regretted her decision to come back to the Eurovision Song Contest, but now, she was glad she had, to take part in the downfall of the Swedish regime. Back in San Marino, she was welcomed home a hero. "It'll be different next time," Valentina said to the cheering crowd on the streets of San Marino, "In Denmark, things will be different. Eurovision takes place in a democracy next time."

---

Esma and Vlatko's coming home party was one of the biggest street parties Macedonia had ever seen. Esma had been the one to take Björkman out, and for that she was celebrated back home as the one to finally finish the Swedish dictatorship. They looked out across at the sea of flags and banners welcoming them back. Kaliopi was there with them too. Her kidnapping and later rescue from Björkman had started this, and so she was an honorary guest at their party. Esma was celebrating, but Vlatko couldn't help but feel that this was a bit of a hollow victory. The world had so many problems, and yet, here people were, celebrating. "This can only be a good thing, right?" Vlatko said, wanting some reassurance, "I know, I know that the world still has its problems. But, with Björkman's Empire gone, things can only get better, right?" "That's right," Kaliopi said, "No matter how much people try to destroy, no matter how much people try to rip the world apart, it won't work. Life always finds a way, and love wins in the end." Well, that sounded good. Vlatko hoped it was true. For now, he would accept that it was, and he and Kaliopi went to join in with the celebrations. ---

Robin stood on a hill, overlooking the streets of Sweden. Björkman's Empire was gone, and Sweden was going to have a long and probably painful journey back to democracy. There were still those in other countries who wanted revenge against Sweden, revenge for what Björkman did. It was understandable, Björkman's Empire had done a lot of bad things, but that was not the fault of the ordinary Swedish people. Robin only hoped that peace would prevail.

---

Björkman's rule was finished. It was finally finished. The Swedish dictatorship was no more. And it was all down to the Eurovision Song Contest, and its final victory over Björkman's Empire. It seemed that the Eurovision had triumphed over tyranny, and restored peace to the world. What was once a source of mockery for many people was now a symbol of hope and victory. The 2013 entrants were celebrated and treated as national heroes back in their home countries. But they would never forget those who had fallen trying to take down the Björkman regime, and those who had sacrificed themselves trying to bring about the democracy that Sweden longed for once more. For it was them who had truly brought this new age upon the world. But it's all very well to look at the wars and misery of the past and declare that you are in another time, that things are different now, that it will never happen here. But it can always happen again. Fin.

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