#I’ve had blunt force trauma and the teeth pulling was in fact was worse

[dinochickrox]

I will say before reading the tags, I’ll give a trigger warning to a trauma.

Especially if it has to do anything with dentistry.

[roraruu]

wip: pity and fear

Faye doesn’t like to cry. She’s not a pretty cryer like Celica was, or Gray’s sisters are. They come hard and fast, rolling down her cheeks like thunder and lightning and not stopping until she’s got a headache. And the worst of it is that Faye’s an angry cryer. When she’s pissed off she’ll feel the heat of anger wash down her neck and to her cheeks and meet in her eyes. Her breath becomes heavy and her voice becomes high and wham! Tear city baby. 

She feels them come on when Alm says something stupid. Really, really stupid. 

“I guess we all should’ve stayed back.” He mumbles more to himself than anything. 

Faye feels the rush of angry tears come along. All means her, and should have means go away. She’s heard it everyday since they were kids, both silent and spoken. She knows he still resents her a little bit for making Celica go away. But Faye can’t help that she was taken and held at lance-point. She can’t stop the fact that Mycen saved her and ordered Celica away. If anyone, he should blame Tobin. 

But he won’t. 

So Faye turns on her heel and bites down on her lip hard, walking to the edge of camp where her steed is. She begins to tack her bridle on and prepare her as if she is going for a ride, the wind whipping her tears away across her face in long streaks—

“You shouldn’t leave this late.” 

She stops, biting harder on her lip to stop the tears, threatening to break the skin and bloody her face. She can feel the gasps coming, the angry bellows of a gasp that threaten to fly from her mouth. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” She forces as calmly as she can. At best, it sounds like she’s run too fast and is struggling to catch her breath; at worst, it gives away that she wants to be alone to cry. Lukas’s footsteps are deafened against the forest floor, but she can still hear him walk, his gentle, measured breathing. Faye glances away, wiping at her face with the edge of her right sleeve, the other clutching her steed’s rein like it is a rope out of a well. She hasn’t changed out of her uniform. The fabric is rough and harsh against her nose. “What do you want Lukas,”

“The other villagers said you ran off in a hurry. They thought you had been hurt.”

She laughs, bitter and harsh. She muffles the sound against her sleeve. “Only my pride.”

“Hm.” 

Her knuckles go white against the reins of her steed. The horse eyes her both tiredly and nervously. “Faye, may I ask what happened?”

“You may not.” She says. The last thing she wants to do is to spill the beans on why her friends loathe her. Why their conversations always exclude silly little Faye; why she was forced to play healer even though staring at broken bones protruding out of the body makes her nauseous; why she has to hurry after them on horseback and make sure Silque is safe while they fight and gleam like--

“Then might we walk together?” He offers. “Perhaps it will clear your mind.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“I said nothing of talking. I would not mind the silence.” He says calmly, gently as the lapping edge of the water on the shore.

She can feel the quakes, the trembles and sobs coming on. They are desperate to come out, bubbling over like a boiling pot. “F-Fine.” She says shakily and turns on her heel again. 

Faye walks faster than Lukas, keeping a good distance ahead of him. There’s a mark, a crease has formed on her lip from biting down so hard and long, the skin thankfully unbroken. No surprise there, it is the last damn that holds her tears in. It is like the Sluice gate, and she, Zofia which threatens to flood. 

She listens to his footsteps behind her, giving her distance that she craves, needs for the sake of her pride. And being blunt—Lukas does not seem the most nurturing or tender type. But gentleness It is not exactly in the recipe for a good nobleman, especially one who lends his lance to the rebel army. 

But Faye isn’t exactly a good village girl. She’s an only child who has her family behind to fight a war for some crush. Her friends keep her at arm’s length and the sweet cleric speaks to her only because she wishes to talk of womanly things. And her knightly mentor looks upon her with intent to make her a warrior, but knows she will never be one of such calibre.

Why am I here? She thinks. The words shatter the dam. Her teeth lift from her lip as her footsteps begin to drag and slow. The tears begin to flow, running down her face in hot rivers, glossing her moonlit cheeks. Her hand comes up to swipe at the tracks, first the tips of her fingers, and then the heel and finally whole hand rubbing at her eyes like she’s a child. She struggles for a breath, becoming a shaky hiccup and a loud “fuck” following. 

She resists falling to her knees but still crumples into herself. Her elbows lock inwards to her chest and her neck curves so that it’s inline with her chin. She gasps again, another hiccup, another cuss until the sobbing subsides and the telltale headache comes along. When she looks up, Lukas is holding a little square of cloth in his hand. Gently, with his voice as smooth as velvet, he speaks: 

“This was my Mother’s handkerchief.” He remarks, unfolding it. The edge is a soft pink and there are tiny little flowers embroidered in opposite corners. “She gave it to me many years ago. Here.”

His calloused hand reaches out with the pretty handkerchief in the middle. The hands of a soldier hold something so delicate, so... regal. It is jarring to the eyes, her tears parting to take in the sight. Gingerly, he tilts her face up to his, wiping away the rest of her tears with such tenderness that makes her wonder if there is kindness in a soldier. She focuses on his half-lidded brown eyes, the thin line of his lips, the soft curve of his brows. Lukas does not judge, nor does he ask again to speak of it. Instead he wipes away her tears with a gentle touch and holds her gaze as he holds the handkerchief to her.

“Where is your mother now?” She asks in a small voice, still shaky.

He doesn’t answer. A pang of sorrow strikes Faye like a lyre’s chord. Of course. Noble or common, death is not choosy. She wonders too many things now: how old he was when she died, if he was allowed to mourn, what had happened otherwise and if it only helped his joining of the Deliverance. 

But she realizes one thing--with the handkerchief knit between her hot fingers--is that her tears have stopped. 

______

The Deliverance finds no reprieve on Rigelian soil. Instead, hardships and shortcomings surface and Lukas wonders if Valentia is the land of sorrow. 

He finds no calm in sleep, no relief. In the dark of the night, almost the aurora of dawn, Lukas lays awake. Nuibaba’s abode is a place of near death for him, a place of terror. The witch had almost killed him with one fell blow and would have had not Faye sped her horse fast enough to take the blow for him. She’d thrown her javelin in a perfect arc and distracted the witch with time for Python or Tobin to take aim and shoot an arrow to kill. Lukas finds cannot remember which one of them did it, only the memories of that creature before his eyes. Medusa, terror of the dead.

He can still feel the ache of white magic against his skin, running along every inch of his body. Silque had healed him hours ago. Perhaps it is that which keeps him awake. 

He stares at the velvet ceilings of the mansion, age-old chandeliers are marked with gossamer and dust. They all sleep in the same area, the front room, all silently afraid to venture too deep into the abode. No one wanted particularly wanted to stay the night, but travelling down Fear Mountain in the dead of night and after a long, harsh battle seems beyond unwise. Hell, if Lukas did not have the self-control, he would be clutching his lance tightly and sleeping as he had done many nights in the woods before reaching Ram Village. 

He sits up, eyes roving around at the sleeping bodies of the Deliverance and their new sainted recruit. While the thought of venturing deep into the abode scares him, the thought of laying in wait for possible death scares him more. As quietly as he can, he gets to his feet and creeps out to one of the side rooms, a table and chairs set up in the middle with wide bay windows that overlook the side of Fear Mountain. And when he does, his mind begins to conjure cruel thoughts, perhaps a leftover trauma of his brother. Silently, in his own voice, he hears it. 

Why are you crying noble boy? What reason do you have to? So many people have it worse than you and you’re having a little pity party for one. What do you think the world’s going to stop and give you a break you backwater, no good, second rate progeny? You were lucky to have been bo—

“Lukas.”

He jumps a little, hands clenching into fists out of habit. Faye stands in the doorway, eyes widening only in shock. Her brow crumples in a way of pity and fear. Like a deer, she cautiously takes a step forwards; the floorboards whine.

“Faye,” he musters his most calm voice. “Are you alright?”

“I should ask you that.” She says, coming closer. Her braids are tangled and fray out in flyaways. 

“I could not sleep.”

“You look horrible.”

He laughs a little bitterly as she crosses the floor and stands in front of him. He’s suddenly very aware of how tiny she is in comparison. He must have grown used to seeing her astride her steed, ready to fight Gingerly, she reaches up, her warm hands grazing the side of his face, the pad of her thumb running under the bags of his eyes. “Lukas,”

“Yes Faye?”

“You know you’re crying right?” 

His hand instinctively reaches up to touch his cheek, her hand flying away. “No, I suppose I did not. I was lost in thought.”

“It’s alright.” She says softly. Her hand moves to her hip, pulling out his mother’s handkerchief from the pocket of her uniform. “It’s good timing I guess. I’ve been meaning to give this back.” 

It’s folded and neatly pressed. In her hands it resembles the day his mother gave it to him, gently pressing it into his palm. “Here.” She says and he holds the handkerchief, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. Faye sits down at the table with him. “Was it a bad dream?”

“More a waking nightmare.”

Faye glances to the dark depths of the abode. Short hours ago they had fought for their lives but now they rest as peacefully as they can. For a moment they sit in relative silence, watching life outside the abode carry on. Such peace does not belong in a chaotic place. But can it truly be interpreted as peace? Zofia had been liberated and the invaders have been deterred from their homeland, but corruption and depravity still haunts their lands. And moreover, they are far from calm and peaceful, they are in Rigel, land of the strong and proud. When Lukas looks up from his lap and the handkerchief in his palm, Faye’s eyes are on him.

“Did I ever tell you about when I was a child?” She asks quietly.

His brow creases. “You did not.”

Faye glances between the dark door and him before leaning close. “I don’t like to talk about it but--” She says quietly, as if they are sharing gossip. “I was in a situation like you were today.”

She’s a soldier, of course she has danced with death before. But so easily Lukas as forgotten how he came to her village and saw her hands itching for an axe at the sight of him. “Really?” He asks.

She moves one of her plaits over her shoulder, showing a shiny mark on the side of her neck. A scar. She keeps her eyes from him and talks lowly. “When I was little, I was almost killed.” She whispers. “Luckily I was saved but I could have died easily. I used to have dreams I was back in the same situation and just…” She winces, her hands gathering the sleeve of her uniform. “Sometimes the scar will hurt and I just remember--”

She stops. “What I’m trying to say is that this is a nightmare.” Her eyes flicker with sadness and determination. “But we are trying to end it right? One day we’ll wake up and things will be better.”

Her words are not comforting in the least. She realizes that, with the way her lips crinkle as if hard in thought. But Faye reaches out, her fingertips graze the edges of his fingers and run along the tendons of his thumb before curling around his cold hand. She looks beyond him, out the windows and into the uncertain night, and Lukas realizes that his tears have stopped.

[ask-law-unfiltered]

My Black Heart

DofLaw fanfic… Disclaimer: I do NOT own one piece nor do I own any of its characters. If I did Ace wouldn’t have died, Zoro and Sanji would be lovers, and DofLaw would be canon. Pairings include but are not limited to DofLaw, KidLaw, ZoSan, and potential other yaoi goodness with the implication of FRobin. Although the main pairing is and will remain DofLaw. Warning! This fic contains spoilers, non-con sex (aka. rape), drug and alcohol abuse, violence, yaoi (aka. male on male relationship), severe mental abuse, and emotional abuse. Consider yourselves warned and also, any criticisms will result in more of the objected material so no like no read. No one is forcing you, if horrible rape sex, brutality, and abuse isn’t your style, go read a cute fluff piece. Hope you enjoy. Chapter Two: Seeing the Bars *****Law’s Side***** ‘Damn it!’ The situation just kept getting worse. The pain of losing Corazon three years ago was all coming back just by looking at his murderer. Now he was facing the unimaginable horror of possibly losing his entire crew. For a moment he was the scared little boy of ten, watching everything and everyone he had ever known die around him. ‘No I can’t afford to fall apart now… I need to find another way…’ His mind began to race faster than ever trying to come up with anyway out of this mess. Meanwhile Doflamingo continued to laugh at his own threat, clearly enjoying the way he had unnerved him. ‘Calm down,’ he told himself, ‘I can’t let him get to me or it’s just going to get worse…’ Doflamingo had stopped laughing long enough to realize Law had regained some of his composure. He suppressed a shudder as the homicidal blond leaned in close to his face. He was still unable to move away thanks to the strings and the death grip currently holding his chin. “Did I catch your interest Law?” That silky voice stirred up too many memories, but he forced them back, his crew needed him to focus now. He lifted his gaze back to Doflamingo’s, meeting those red lenses with determination. “What will it take?” The words tasted like bile on his tongue yet he spoke them clearly and without hesitation. Doflamingo paused slightly seemingly confused by the offer. “What do you mean Law?” Not wanting to waste time he quickly elaborated, “What will it take for you to leave my crew and me alone?” Law held back a grimace as the feathery bastard started to laugh once more. ‘Damn it, just get on with it!’ he was usually a very patient man but he was getting easily annoyed by this psychopath. Said annoyance leaned in again with a chuckle. “Fufufu, you haven’t changed much in some ways have you? Still quick to get to the heart of the matter. However I have told you twice now that I am here to see you. Do you really think that I will allow you to slip away from me again?” He was dangerously close to his ear now, “I want you back Law, after all you have and always will be mine.” He couldn’t suppress the shudder those words sent down his spine. This caused another laughing fit from his captor, as he remained powerless in the grip of the man and his vile strings. Still his mind raced looking for a way out, he couldn’t just up and abandon his crew, and like hell he wanted to go anywhere with this bastard. “I don’t belong to anyone, I’ve been freed.” Corazon had given his life to give him his freedom like hell he was going to give it up so easily. Doflamingo seemed to find amusement by his words however, as he continued to chuckle near his ear. “Fufufu, guess I have to remind you who your master is Law…” There was no time to brace as his head was slammed into the floor, resulting in a loud crack and severe pain. The agony brought on by the skull fracture, coupled with the inevitable concussion and blunt force trauma, was almost enough to make him pass out. Only the thoughts of his crew kept him from embracing the mercy of unconsciousness. He felt more strings slipping around his body, successfully binding his hands behind his back and pinning him to the hard cold floor. A hand entangled itself in his hair and pulled him up to stare into that grinning face. He glared at his captor, rebellion sparking up inside his chest, not wanting to give into reason or fear. “Fufufu, still acting tough huh?” the pink clad jackass, licked his lips again. Law hated that, watching that long creepy tongue slither across that wide mad grin. “I’ll have to change that now won’t I?” He felt the hand in his hair pull him in close until his eyes widened in shock as he felt lips against his own. Soon a powerful tongue was pushing its way into his mouth as he struggled as best he could to get free. The hungry appendage continued to ravage his mouth, retreating only at the treat of being bitten. He snarled in rage and disgust, “What the hell was that about you pervert?!” Doflamingo met his accusation with more laughter. “You really have grown Law.” He felt the tongue lick some of the blood off his check from the open head wound. “I’m eager to see how much…” Realization hit Law like the blow from before. Doflamingo was planning on forcing himself upon him, and in his current state there was nothing he could do to prevent it from happening. *****Doffy’s Side***** Law looked so alluring bound by his strings and bleeding slightly. Well perhaps the head wound was a bit worse than Doffy had meant to inflict. Yet when dealing with a personality like Law’s, excessive force was often necessary. He tore his eyes away from those enticing silver hues, to observe the rest of the teen’s lean form. Taking in the long slender legs, and imagining the toned chest hidden behind the hoodie. His gaze settled for a moment on the curve of the teen’s rather nice ass. A prize he would soon claim for himself, and in doing so he would prove that Law was his forever. After all he was not known to share his things, and whether the brat liked it or not he belonged to him. Meaning he would be taught to please him in every way possible, lessons Doffy was only too happy to teach. He reached out slipping his hand into Law’s pants, cupping a cheek in his firm grip. This caused the teen to thrash about in protest before hissing, “Get the hell away from me you fucking bastard!!!” He chuckled again amused by the fact that the younger pirate thought he still had a say in the events to come. Eyes, hidden behind his beloved shades, lingered on that smartass mouth. His grin growing wider with an entertaining idea. He felt himself harden at the sight before him, Law’s chest heaving slightly behind the hoodie, due to the taxing struggle, hands bound behind his back. Blood ran down the side of his face which had lost the soft round features of childhood, and become more defined and alluring during the past three years. Doffy’s gaze fixed itself upon the lips that were parted in pain, and his member twitched. It was time to teach Law another use for that sassy mouth, Doffy straightened and returned to his spot on the bed. He then used his strings to force the boy to resume his previous position of kneeling at his feet. He grinned at the sight of the brat, now beaten and bound, in his rightful place. “Fufufu, shall we give this another try Law?” His reply was a glare of contempt, which only served to make the Shichibukai smile wider. A long fingered hand reached towards his clothed member, stroking gently as he slowly pulled it from its fabric prison. Hateful eyes turned to orbs of shock at the massive organ pulsing before them. Doffy continued his lazy massage as he drank in the teen’s growing fear. “I want you to suck me off Law, and if you even think about using your teeth, I’ll carve up every last one of your little friends. Their lives depend on how well you please me in the next few hours.” He leaned in closer to the slowly despairing young captain. “You know what lengths I have gone to punish those who displease me, don’t force me to destroy everything you hold dear. I know you don’t want to endure that pain a second time.” He watched the realization of his words and threats take hold of the youth, draining all the fight and rebellion out of him. Shoulders slumped in defeat, Law’s mouth drew closer to his throbbing head. Doffy closed his eyes behind his glasses as the warmth of the brat’s breath caressed his arousal. This was going to be fun, afterwards there would be no doubt that the boy belonged to him. ‘Definitely a much better use for that smartass mouth.’ Was the thought that formed as Law began his administrations, first he had licked it from base to head stopping to kiss the swollen tip before continuing back to the base. Once there he drew circles around the sack of sensitive flesh nestled below the mammoth shaft. Doffy opened his eyes to watch the curiously experienced technic before him, had Law done this before? He sincerely hoped not, otherwise someone was in for a rather painful death for the crime of defiling his property. His eyes narrowed as the mouth opened to cradle his balls on a warm velvety tongue. He held back a hiss of pleasure as that same tongue began to coat his flesh in moist heat as it sucked gently in a leisurely rhythm. After a few minutes his jewels were released with a pop, and the little slut, made his way back up the thick shaft. As Law reached the tip a second time, the War Lord decided that it was time to take control again. Slowly he intertwined his fingers through soft black hair, tugging hard causing the teen to gasp in pain. In one swift motion Doffy forced his member halfway down the tight warm throat, laughing as he felt the hot cavern shudder at the violent intrusion. “Fufufu, since you seem to know what you’re doing there’s no need to hold back!” Without waiting for him to adjust the hand holding his head began to move, using the boy’s mouth to pump his length mercilessly. All the while laughing and grinning, at the choking, slobbering, whore being ruthlessly skull fucked before him. *****Law’s Side***** Law barely had time to register what was happening until the asshole above him finally found a suitable pace. Even then he could hardly believe that he was kneeling before his hated enemy, while that enemy forced his unnaturally large member down his throat. It took everything Law had to try and choke down the massive length. Thankfully anatomy was something he knew rather well, within a few hours Law had adjusted his breathing and relaxed his jaw. This allowed him to bare the brutal treatment easier plus it gave him an opportunity to try and turn the tables again. With the use of his powers he focused on making his throat tighten, all the while keeping the organ slick with added saliva. He felt the veins pulsing on his tongue signaling an impending release. With a few more violent thrusts the monster came hard spewing his seed deep into Law’s throat. He was tempted to spit the vile gift onto the ground in spite until he heard the jackass purr. “Swallow it all, or I’ll make you clean it off the floor later…" Law’s face burned in rage and humiliation as he forced the salty liquid down. He refused to meet the War Lord’s gaze knowing the probability of this ordeal was far from over. However he was given little choice as he felt his hair being yanked causing his wound to ach as he was forced to look upon that evil smiling face. “Well done, I can hardly believe that was your first time with a man. Tell me Law, who was your first?” Law wanted to tell Doflamingo to fuck off, but he knew that tone, Doffy was mad. He was in trouble now, and since the fate of his crew hinged on the maniac’s mood Law needed to think fast. Truth be told Law hadn’t been with anyone, well anyone he wanted to be with, he just knew a lot about anatomy. What the body likes and dislikes, he was a doctor after all. Pain and pleasure are hidden all over the body, he just knew where to look. He met the shaded eyes without flinching, “I haven’t been with anyone, I swear. You were the first person to do anything like that with me…” Law could feel his face burning in humiliation at that admission. Doffy however didn’t seem convinced. “You are awfully skilled for your first time. Was it one of your crew mates Law? Are you trying to protect your little friend?” Law tried to answer but the Shichibukai slammed his head down a second time. Pain swam behind his eyes and his head throbbed from the further abuse. His eyes had started to water from the pain of his wounds, and the added agitation of having his hair yanked around, as it was used too once again lift his head. “I will find out who it was Law, make it easier on yourself and tell me. Who has defiled your body?” His head was swimming from the dizziness brought on by severe cranial trauma, and he could feel the nauseating sickness starting to creep up. Doing his best to keep his breathing even, Law set his gaze on the pink clad psychopath. “I am not lying, I haven’t been with anyone. I’m a doctor, I am going by things I have read about, honest.” Law felt the hand release his hair, at the same time he noticed the strings where forcing him to rise, moving him onto Doflamingo’s lap. Strong arms held him in place as the re-hardened appendage poked against the cleft of his ass. As Law’s heart began to feel heavy Doffy started to laugh. “Is that so? Well there is only so much you can learn from books and charts. Why don’t we have some more fun than hmm? You can show me what else you have learned, Fufufu…” Law’s heart was a lump of ice in his chest, he realized that all those years he thought he was free were nothing but a cruel joke. The truth was clear, he had never left the birdcage on Minion Island. He just hadn’t been able to see the bars until now, yet there they were, constricting around him. He would never be free from this man, he had been trapped the moment he set foot in that warehouse three years ago.

[strangeharpy]

Here, Tumblr, have the first unedited, rough ~1100 words of what I wrote tonight. It’s mostly just set-up and Graves being sad. I’m wanting to see if I can pull off Graves as someone who at one point may have sympathized with Grindelwald. WHO KNOWS IF IT WORKS?? (and yes it looks like I’ll get to 2k before Credence even shows up, ugh)

ANYWAY, no real content warnings other than for possible autocorrect typos and for some reason Graves’s POV reads vaguely like Hemingway? *shrug emoji*

*

The first face Percival Graves sees belongs to one Porpentina Goldstein. She looks rumpled, with hat askew, her hair flying every which way, smudges of dirt on her face and hands, and her coat hanging off one shoulder. As soon as she spots him, her face lights up like Christmas, and she shouts to some unknown person behind her, "He's here! He's here! Get a medi-wizard! He's in here!"

As Tina makes her way toward him, backlit by the light from outside and holding her glowing wand in front of her, Graves lets himself indulge in a cautious bit of hope. He knows how awful he must look, strung up as he's been for Morrigan-knows-how-long, but he tries to put on a wan smile for her. Tina winces, aims a few charms at his bindings until she finds a combination that undoes Grindelwald's handiwork, catches him with an arm slung across his chest when he tips forward. Every inch of him sings in agony, somehow worse than the Cruciatus because at least the Cruciatus can be dispelled.

He hisses through clenched teeth. Tina makes a pained noise in sympathy.

"It's okay, Mister Graves," she says. "We've got you." One way or another, she heralds the end to… whatever this is, and Graves gladly welcomes it.

*

The second face Percival Graves sees is also a familiar one, but it inspires no misguided sense of hope. Somehow, between Tina's reassurance and now, he's been shuffled into a narrow bunk in the familiar infirmary of the MACUSA headquarters. The lights are dim; visiting hours must surely be over, and yet Seraphina Picquery sits, as regal as a portrait, on the lone chair by his bed. Her eyes are narrowed as she appraises him. He knows what she's searching for. Knows what she finds. His hands clench, fingers tangling in the thin sheet draped over him. He feels a hot stab of shame in his ribcage.

"I considered you my friend, once," she says, her voice unwavering. "I invited you into my home. I took holidays with you on three separate occasions, Percival. Three! I trusted you."

"Seraphina, I—" The words die in his throat. He does not have anything resembling a suitable response. They both know it.

"Don't be coy, Percival, it doesn't suit you." Her tone remains even, but he knows her well enough to pick up on how waspish she's being. "Do you know what our Mister Grindelwald had to say when we held our first round of interrogation?"

"Yes, I imagine I do," Graves says after a few moments of tense silence. His words taste like ash on his tongue, but he continues, "I imagine he spoke highly of my cooperation, told you that my help was invaluable. Maybe he even mocked my optimism. Am I close?"

Seraphina shifts in her chair. Her gaze remains steely and unimpressed. "Merlin's tattered robes, Percival, we had a deal. There are policies and procedures and legal channels we can use to affect change! You think spitting in the face of the rule of law is the way to get things done?"

"Who does this law help?" Graves demands, hands still uselessly clutching the white, white sheet. He surprised himself with the vehemence of the question. "I know the damn statutes, Seraphina. But the old ways aren't working. I couldn't just stand by any longer."

"He said the same thing, you know. Before we apprehended him." She shifts. Her jewelry glitters in the muted magelights. "I tolerated your radical attitudes because I respected you and I had sympathy for your situation. But you deliberately chose to throw yourself behind the cause of a madman, and that's where my sympathy ends. I thought you were too old for this boyish foolishness. I'm sorry for what you must have endured at his hands, but…" She shakes her head. "I'm sorry. I expect your resignation on my desk as soon as you've been cleared to hold a quill."

He blinks owlishly. Forces his fingers to uncurl. Nods. It's a gift, likely the last one he will ever receive from Seraphina Picquery. It's more than he has any right to ask for. "Of course, Madame President," he manages to say, voice hoarse.

Seraphina shakes her head and rises. "Get some rest, Percival."

He recognizes the dismissal for what it is. "As you wish, Madame President." But she is already gone.

*

He pieces things together during visits from the medi-wizards and medi-witches. His body had sustained some damage from Grindelwald's ill treatment, but mostly he was just malnourished and dehydrated. He'd been held for nearly five months (a fact he hadn't known) and the medi-witch in charge of his care was concerned about his mental well-being more than his physical state. It seemed, she informed him, that he'd suffered much psychic trauma from Grindelwald's attempts to sift through his memories.

(He doesn't tell her that he provided them willingly, in the beginning. But he does agree that it explains the way he feels so hollow, like a husk.)

Tina visits him, seems either blissfully unaware of his impending dismissal or willfully in denial. But she is blunt and she is kind and she keeps him up to date on the slew of inquiries resulting from this mess, and for that he is grateful. He'd always found her to be a bright and promising auror, and he tells her so one afternoon as she thumbs through a box of case files Grindelwald had put his name on. It startles a laugh from her.

"He demoted me, you know," she confides, keeping her gaze fixed on the file in her hands.

"I'm not surprised," he says. "I can't say I wouldn't have reprimanded you after that, from what I hear."

Color rises to her cheeks. "Sir, you have always encouraged me to do what's just, and that's what I did. What I've always tried to do."

"Yes, Auror Goldstein. You've always been good at that. I suspect that's why he had you demoted. And even then, you still somehow found a way to foil him from underneath the mountain of bureaucracy he buried you under." He finds himself smiling at her fondly. He will miss working with her, he thinks. Would have enjoyed training her to maybe be his successor one day. Morrigan preserve him, he will miss this.

Tina's face goes scarlet and she ducks her head. "Well. You know. It wasn't all me."

He recalled the report she'd shared with him: her sister, the no-maj, Theseus Scamander's brother. "A good auror knows how to work with a team to get the job done, Ms. Goldstein. I think you'll find that some doors might open up to you based on your performance." At least he hopes desperately that it will be so. That Seraphina won't quash Tina's enthusiasm just because he favored her once upon a time.