#also i would make them kill me before i let them broil me alive in a marshmallow jacket. the final component of a this is a performance art

[oldtestleper]

the menu is a terrible movie about class dynamics but a fairly accurate movie about artists

[artemis1214]

MEET ESME ROSE LUCIANO!

Hello! 👋🏼

These are some headcanons for my Hazbin Hotel OC, Esme! If you would like to read more about Esme's story, you can check out my Wattpad story "A Siren's Spell".

HELLA SPOILERS AHEAD!

Human Life (1900-1932) 

As a child, Esme was very friendly and bubbly. She was everyone's best friend and the little major of Manhattan. 

Would love to pet the horses leading the carriages in front of her father’s bar. 

Esme’s mother would always try to keep her away from the family ‘business’, but little Esme always found herself listening in on the men's conversations and meetings. 

Natural flirt as a teenager, but only had one boyfriend in New York.

Natural mother figure to Anthony from their connected families.

Cool aunt vibe for Molly and Anthony. (Would buy them ice cream on the regular when their parents weren't around).

Would float in a raft in the Hudson River, smoking a cigarette in the summer. 

Very protective of her younger sister, would stand up to bullies, and get in trouble with the nuns at school. 

Raised Catholic. 

Libra.

Used by her father to lure men to his work and steal their money. 

Gets "too involved" in the business and gets sent to New Orleans to basically hide away.

Has a very seductive luxurious transatlantic accent, but alone drops to a casual crisp New York tone. 

Accent drops completely when upset or cursing.

Always smells like vanilla and strawberries.

Lots of chocolate martinis, vodka cranberries, and red wine. 

Long hair because she hates thinking about fitting into societal beauty standards (no flapper hair here!).

Heavy sweet tooth. 

Big bookworm.

Theme Songs: 

“You don’t own me” 

"My Days" - The Notebook on Broadway

"Roxie" - Chicago

"Gangsta" - Kehlani

"So, this is love?"

Always carries a silent pistol in her purse.

Very charming, seductive, playful, and secretive. 

Steals Mimzy's spot as the head girl at the speakeasy.

Singer, burlesque performer.

Also plays piano.

Alastor watches her from the back of the parlor, tapping his finger on his whiskey glass.

Meets Alastor immediately but senses something ‘off’ about him. 

Hella sexual tension right off the bat. 

Threatens him with her pistol when she discovers who he is. 

Not phased by many of Al’s doings as she watched her father kill men all the time. 

“You don’t scare me." 

Has a smart mouth that often gets her in trouble when men. 

Has spit in men’s faces before.

“Fuck you.” These are her two favorite words for them.

Is disgusted by men. 

“Men are dogs, I like my dogs on four legs.” 

Very possessive, protective, and jealous. 

When the two get married she becomes similar to a New York mob wife. 

“No Alasta, you’re not killin’ on a Sunday! Sunday is a holy day - plus I made meatballs!” 

Goes for the eyes when she kills people, “You really do have pretty eyes, wonder how long they’ll take to cut out.”

Will ship the remains to their parents as a “warning.” 

Going to the water when she is stressed out, usually the dock near her house.

Alastor will drive fast down empty roads so she can hang out of the car and let her hair flow.

ALWAYS has a record on the spinner and espresso brewing.

Their house smells like coffee 24/7.

Angelic, alluring voice with a natural jazzy ring to it if she so pleases when she sings.

BIG flirt and entertainer when drunk or high.

Very strong siren eyes when she is singing, performing, or talking to someone. 

HATES spicy food (Alastor’s cooking nearly kills her every time)

Will request a seafood broil every single time he cooks for her.  

If Alastor’s mother were to be alive, these two would be BEST FRIENDS! 

She’d probably make plans to hang out with just her - not Alastor (lol!). 

Date nights of just cooking their respective recipes. 

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T LIKE MY LASAGNA?!” 

Their song is “It’s Been a Long, Long, Time” by Kitty Kallen.

COUPLE THEME SONG: ACROSS THE STARS FROM STAR WARS.

Hella foreshadowing (Padme/Anakin vibes)

Speaks Italian when upset 

Che Cazzo?!

Che palle?!

Figlio di puttana!

Affectionate pet names for those she cares for 

“Lovey” - Her sister Margo 

“My Dove” - Her daughter, Genevieve 

“Sweetheart” - Alastor 

NEVER shows up to an event empty-handed. She’ll feed everyone there. 

Love language is def quality time and cooking.

Flirts with Alastor around his secretary to make her jealous 

Basically the second in command when she's at Alastor's office.

You better do whatever Esme asks or he will kill you (no joke).

“Let that bitch hear.” Vibes. 

Brat 

Submissive/Switch

Masochist

Big softie as a mother, complete domestic. 

Loves children and animals. 

No longer works at the speakeasy.

Becomes a housewife.

Can have hella anxiety/depression.

Doesn't cope with things properly and will shut herself out from everyone if upset.

Emotionally numb from losing so many people in her life.

At the end of her story, she realizes it's going to be him or her...

"Veronica, open the door please!" Vibes.

"Where is Padme, is she safe? Is she alright?" 

“It seems in your anger, you killed her…”

BIG THANKS TO @hoomandoescosplay FOR HELPING WITH THESE HEADCANONS! LOVE YOU GIRLYPOP! 💗

[monochromemedic]

Ashy Slashy

“What is that Ash?” “A long story, look for some reason that damn sky spider took all my hands and left me with this. Luckily it works... somehow.” He huffed raising the felt puppet on his hand and moving it’s mouth open and closed. “Listen if it starts saying shit, it ain’t me and you gotta cut this thing off pronto, you got me?” I stared into the black button eyes of the muppet, noticing how it was modeled directly after the man holding it. “So... it’s alive?” “Deadite, but I don’t know if those things are ‘alive’. Frankly I don’t give a shit, they all should be dead but the world ain’t perfect.” He grumbled twisting his hand towards himself to look the creature in the eyes. “You hear me? You should be dead buddy.” Silence. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” I tried to picture what exactly this thing could do that was dangerous.  With all the stories Ash told, even the most mundane things could become dangerous when possessed by Evil. But those things usually transformed or had a dangerous quality to them already, some supernatural strength or claws and fangs. Unless this thing would suddenly grown bones, it’d have to be a rather weak demon wouldn’t it? Then again, that’s usually how these things work, they’d prey on your naive nature, your fears, every weakness you had, that was the deadites strength.  The night seemed to carry on without much trouble. Not a single sound from the puppet’s mouth despite the glares, insults and abuse from Ash to try to get it to talk. It was obvious he was paranoid, then again why wouldn’t he be. A deadite on your hand that you had to have or else be left without a limb. Sure he could have taken it off but having to be ready to run off into the fog at a moments notice to fight for your life was probably a good reason to take a risk, that or he couldn’t.... A few times I saw him walk off to the darkness, out of the light of the campfire to pull and yank at the puppet to no avail. He’d eventually sigh and go to the bathroom or return to the soft bustle of activity, acting like nothing had happened. As the ‘night’ carried on people began to settle in, grabbing their sleeping bags, ripped up mattresses or walking off into wherever the campfire had put us to find a place to sleep. Usually it was somewhere with enough stray objects to entertain ourselves, or something we could call our own private area at least until the campfire moved us to another campfire in another realm. I grabbed my blankets and pillows, settling down besides Ash’s stained mattress for the night. Ash’s chest rose and fell in monotonous motions, his face caught in a strange scene of peace. I smiled, beginning to close my eyes only to catch the shape of the puppet staring directly at me. A wave of discomfort flooded my senses and my brows knitted anxiously. He couldn’t be alive. Ash was trying all day to get him to speak, and deadites usually break a few minutes in. I just had to relax, I was just getting paranoid. “You got a staring problem toots?” My eyes shot back towards the puppet, it’s head now tilted at an angle it wasn’t at before.  Oh god Ash wasn’t crazy... “Well? I know I’m the most handsome guy around but unfortunately I’m not into fatties. But if I turn my head now maybe I can make it work...” He spoke, his pacman mouth opening and closing with every word. I’d feel insulted, well I did, but if what Ash said as true and he was a Deadite they preyed on the weakness of others.  “Why are you speaking now? You didn’t seem to speak to Ash all day.” I hissed, remembering Ash’s words to kill it as soon as it talked. As much as I’d love to tak his word, if what I saw was true Ash couldn’t get him off, and so I’d have to make a bit of a scene to try. And what to pry him off with was another question I didn’t have the answers to at the moment. “Like I could speak to him, not since what happened last time. It was like a bad break up, real messy.” The puppet smacked his chainsaw hand against Ash’s nose, moving the real Ash’s arm in the process. How the hell did he do that? How much control did he have over Ash? “So you gonna take me up on the deal? I’ve had to hold this guy’s dick in my mouth when he pissed, a guy could use a little stress relief. A motorboat would really get my motor running~” The puppet shook his head, making a loud motor boating sound as it lurched forward. I quickly grabbed it’s head and pushed it back, alarmed by how fast this thing could move. “Get the hell away from me you creep, you should be lucky I haven’t killed you by now.” “You really gonna listen to Ash’s tall tales. He’s probably going through dementia, he can’t remember what he had for breakfast. However, I know alot.” I raised a brow, sitting up from my collections of blankets and pillows. “What are you on about?” “I got a direct line to Ash’s twisted mind. Every and any dark secret you ever wanted to know from the man, I could give you for a low price.”  “...Any secret?” “Any. Secret. And oh boy does this guy keep em. First kiss, most embarrassing moment, what he’s packing... it’s all yours. All we gotta do is make a deal.” I turned away from the deadite, reaching for my glasses to hopefully find something to pry this guy off. “Sorry but I don’t make deals with demons. Those are Ash’s secrets. If he wants to tell me them, he can of his own free will. Also you could just lie or kill me before telling me anything so.” I moved towards the fire, picking up a nearby stick and lightening the end in fire before returning to the deadite, my hand wrapping around it’s neck tightly. The puppet began to squirm, arms wiggling in panic as the burning wood approached Ash’s arm. “Okay, Okay no deal, I’ll tell you straight up just let me stay on his nub! Don’t you wanna know how he feels about you?” Ashy Slashy squealed, desperation in every movement he could muster. I felt my hand pause, eyes shifting over to the sleeping figure just a few inches away. “He thinks you’re a pathetic little BITCH!” The muppet roared, it’s eyes now white, mouth full of razor sharp teeth. The creature managed to move it’s head in just the right position to sink it’s fangs into my hand causing me to yelp and jerk my hand away in pain. It didn’t let go, and pulled the still sleeping Ash along with him. Was he just a heavy sleeper or was it something unnatural, a forced sleeping state that Ashy Slashy put on him? My eyes darted around the area, at the lack of survivors around us except for Jeff a few feet away. Damn it why was he a heavy sleeper? “Ash wake up! Ash!”  “Too late babycakes, his body is all mine. Been working my way to his noggin all day~” The body jerked and with a sudden jolting movement  Ash sat up, his head slowly turning to face me despite his closed eyes. No way, was Ash really gone? No... no that couldn’t be, Ash survived hell and back, no way a stupid felt puppet was the one to do him in. The real Ash’s other arm shot out, gripping my shirt to pull me closer to his body. Ash could easy over power me, one hand or not. I still had a chance, I still had the stick. But where to aim? If the puppet really did have full control over Ash, would trying to jolt him awake by burning him do anything? I gripped the stick hard, using all my strength to pierce the puppet’s eye with the burning wood. A spurt of blood erupted from the socket, staining the felt and earning a scream from the bastard. A scream that lasting just long enough for it’s teeth to dislodge from my hand. I yanked the stick from the creature and began to scramble for Jeff, managing to grab the edge of his sleeping bag just as Ash’s arm wrapped around my leg, yanking me towards the fire pit. “You dumb whore, I was gonna go easy on you!” Ashy hissed, pushing my bare foot into the embers of the pit, causing a scream to rip from my chest. “Mmm, flame broiled bitch. My favorite!” The pain was intense and every second longer my foot stayed in the fire, the more I could feel the nerve endings begin to die, the smell of burning flesh filling the air around us. I gasped and pushed down the bile that began to form the more I thought about what was happening, trying to focus on the situation. I could do this, I just needed to wake Jeff up. I jabbed the stick into Jeff’s leg, twisting and digging the wood until it splintered under my strength. Jeff may have been a heavy sleeper, but even he wasn’t immune to being stabbed awake. His head rose sharply, nose scrunched in anger, ready to angrily bark at whoever caused him to wake, only to catch sight of the scene unfolding in front of him. “Jeff! Get the puppet off of Ash!” His eyes darted to Slashy, it’s head tilting at the new player in the game. “You really think homeless Jesus is gonna help you? You just made this one course meal a buffet! Jeff didn’t question me for a second, lurching forward and yanking with all his might at the creatures base. A loud, wet, ripping sound filled the air, one that seemed to grow in volume before being silenced by a clothesline strike from Ash, knocking Jeff to the ground. We laid in awe of the sight before us, crawling away from the lumbering figure that stood before us. Ash’s arm was soaked in rotten blood, blood not from himself but from the creature sitting atop his mutilated wrist. Where a clean cut should have been was instead tendons, ripped and torn connecting fabric to flesh. The muscles began to stretch, as Ashy rose, a mess of muscles raising it further from Ash’s arm like a cobra ready to strike.  The small chainsaw began to rev, before Slashy lurched towards Jeff, the umbilical cord snapping with such force a splatter of crimson painted the grass around us. Jeff’s raised hand was no protection from the saw, cutting into his palm with ease. If it wasn’t so tiny, it could have easily cut straight though the shield and into the skull of the survivor. Jeff cried in pain but tried his best to latch on to the puppet, following the only instructions he was given. I knew I had to help, despite the numbing pain in my foot, despite the horror pounding in my chest. We were getting somewhere, we could save Ash. I pushed myself upwards, rushing and slamming my weight against the slumbering chosen one. I felt his body follow through, our body’s falling against the mattress in a spray of blood and stray tendons. I heard the deadite scream in agony, screaming expletives before increasing in volume as Jeff threw it into the firepit, a surge of light erupting from the pit for the new kindling it had received. For a moment all was quiet. No screams, no sounds of movement. Only the sounds of ragged breaths and the roar of a well fed fire. My fingers clawed at Ash’s shirt, my nose brushing against his jawline as I begged for him to wake up. “Ash... Ashley? Ash, please wake up, come on...” I gritted my teeth, tears beginning to prick the edges of my eyes as I began to fear for the worse. “Wake up you old bastard!” I slapped his cheek, fingers leaving fresh lines of blood along his skin. The shock of pain seemed to do the trick as he groaned in pain, eyes snapping open. “Hng! Huh? What? What are you doing...on me...” His voice trailed off as he saw the gore in front of him, the man nursing his wound a few feet away, the bloodied clothes of the people around him. He cautiously raised his hand, seeing the puppet was no longer in his place but instead was place in the fire, the only trail of it was the strange muscly appendage that decorated the ground, leading it’s way back to Ash. “I knew that creep was up to something... I shouldn’t have gone to sleep.” Ash muttered, a tinge of regret lingering with every word. True regret for what had happened as if he had some control over the situation. I felt his arms wrap around me, his big hand beginning to rub circles to try to give some comfort to the horrifying situation. “He had you move... You weren’t waking up, I thought you... “ “Shh, hey... I wouldn’t go out like that are you kidding me? I ain’t going out to a muppet rip off.”  I shuttered against him, burying my face into his chest to hide the hot wet tears that began to fall with every shaky breath. He didn’t seem to judge, knowing the fear of losing loved ones all too well.

[tae-cup]

.hamartia. ‘Part 6,

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (f) x Taehyung (?)

Genre: Mafia!Au, Fluff, Angst (Mostly angst oopsies) I DO NOT CONDONE BEHAVIOR DISPLAYED IN THIS, PLEASE IT’S FICTION AND DON’T DO STUPID THINGS THANK YOU

Plot: Y/N is a skilled, well, torturer, though you don’t like to call yourself that; it makes what you do too real. When mafia boss Yoongi wants information or wants a hostage to suffer, you step in. However, one fateful day you are thrown Taehyung, another person who does your line of work. You need answers, he is determined not to give them to you. That’s when you try...a different approach, and Yoongi is not pleased.

Rating: TV-MA

WARNINGS: YO IF YOU’RE NOT COOL WITH SUBTLE BI AGENDAS THEN I’M SORRY THIS IS NOT THE PLACE FOR YOU, Blood, torture, mafia things (ya know?), drugs alcohol, sadistic tendencies, a fundamentally flawed main character (I’m sorry i’m just writing myself pretty much), assault, harassment, stalking (not bad), romance (somehow), Maybe stockholm syndrome???

Word Count: 3k Words

A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this chapter but I sorta like it.

Other:

Masterlist

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Next

Hamartia

~ The word hamartia refers to a flaw or mistake that leads to a fictional character's downfall. Classical tragedies revolve around the main character's hamartia, the tragic flaw that sets a series of disastrous events in motion. Achilles' heel was his hamartia – his fatal flaw.

-

-

“What do you mean they’re gone.” Yoongi never raised his voice, but there was a steel to his tone. 

“We searched everywhere on the property, hyung.” Jungkook pleaded. 

“No. No they can’t have just up and left, now could they?” Yoongi stayed absolutely still, not willing to give away the flame broiling inside. He still cared for you. Of course he did. He couldn’t bare to see you in pain. He left...for you. The man believed it was for the best. He just hadn’t expected you to then throw yourself into your work. 

“N-no.” Jungkook stammered. The poor boy had already been traumatized enough after seeing Mark being shot in front of him. 

“And it’s boss, to you.” Yoongi continued, his words cutting deep into Jungkook. They had known each other for so long. They grew up together, yet here Yoongi was, souring and severing the relationship he held so dear. With striking clarity he realized he did this a lot; pushed people away. He was wrong before. He was the selfish one. Self-preservation was the issue. 

Jungkook flinched at the man’s words. Jimin stood quietly in the corner, heart breaking at the sight before him. He hadn’t known the two as long as they had known each other, but that didn’t stop him from feeling pain for the ties he saw being cut. The short man still didn’t move to intervene the fight beginning. 

“I know you care for them, but what if they left voluntarily?” Jungkook pondered, instantly regretting the words as they tumbled out of his mouth. Yoongi instantly narrowed his eyes. He leaned forward and place his elbows on the desk, interlocking his fingers to rest his chin on them. 

“And why would they do that?” 

Silence. 

God awful silence. 

The younger male made the wise decision to remain silent. Yoongi slowly stood, pressing his palms into the table as a power play. 

“Find them. You’re dismissed.” He said with a wave of his hand. The young boy scurried off, seemingly wanting to leave the office as fast as possible. 

Only Jimin remained. He didn’t move from his spot in the corner as the silent observer. He watched Yoongi rake his hand through his hair. Then the dark haired man called out to the silver haired one. 

“Jimin, sit.” He sighed. Jimin nodded and swiftly took a seat. The tension from earlier lingered, but it wasn’t quite as intense. “I like that about you.” 

Jimin looked up slightly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His hands subconsciously went to his hair. Yoongi scoffed at the action. 

“Not your hair, dumbass.” Then he took a seat as well. “I mean, you follow directions well. You never do what you’re not supposed to and you keep your head down, not asking questions.” 

The other male’s ears pricked up at the sound of his companion’s words. He smiled slightly to himself, but tried his best to keep a neutral face. He just dipped his head in a swift nod. Yoongi looked at him, intrigued, before continuing. 

“I don’t trust Kook to find them whatsoever.” He addressed Jungkook with a casualness that seemed odd given the earlier fight. “So, I’m also sending you to find them. We have some men tied up downstairs that may have answers and since my darling Y/N is missing, you will need to take the task of getting their information.” 

Jimin swallowed thickly. He realized that maybe he was the monster between You and him. After all, he had been in this business far longer than you and he had yet to lose his head. Maybe that’s why Yoongi trusted him without a doubt. 

“Of course, boss.” 

-

-

“You’re not going to hurt me, are you?” You said, a teasing tone at the back of your throat. Taehyung sat in front of you. For the past 10 minutes, he had just stared at you, not speaking a word. And you tried to as well, but it was hard to with your swollen eye. The not speaking issue wasn’t really an issue as you had dealt with it for months. 

“I trusted you. You betrayed me so easily.” You sneered. You hated him. Hated him. But you just couldn’t get the words out. “And I thought you were a man of honor.” With that, he let a laugh escape. 

“You really think there are men of honor in our business, Y/N? I have-”

“Killed a thousand people, blah blah blah. Haven’t we all?” You rolled your eyes. “Come on, I know the intimidation tactic.” You groaned. His eyes grew darker. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I can and will if necessary. And I may not be a man of honor but,” He turned around, seemingly not wanting to meet your gaze. He stopped himself short, remembering the audio was still running. The man sighed and turned back around. If you had seen his eyes in the short in the short time he had turned around, you would see him break. He knew you were observant and he didn’t want you to see him like that. Taehyung wasn’t honorable in any sense, but he wasn’t a complete monster. He had grown an attachment to you; you, who was so complicated it made his head spin. 

“But?” You frowned. His eyes swept the room. Then he leaned in. 

“Please pretend I’m saying something nasty.” His breath fanning against your neck and his proximity made your heart race. You gave the slightest of nods in agreement. “Okay, I didn’t want to turn you in.” 

“You bitch.” You played along. He paid you no mind. 

“We were caught, but I realized I couldn’t help you out of here if I was also incapacitated.” He mumbled against your skin. You felt your breath hitch. Was he telling the truth? Was he playing a game with you? 

“Fuck off.” You spewed out. Then you whispered back with the same ferocity, “Why haven’t you gotten me out then.”

“I had some complications.” 

You looked at him questioningly. He waved you off. He knew he had to hurt you in some way to appease them. So he went with a good ‘ole sucker punch to your fucking stomach. Of course it didn’t please him to see you in pain and he shot you a pained look, one that you couldn’t see from how quickly your eyes closed in shock.  

You gasped for air as he left. This man really just promised to help me escape and then punched me in the fucking stomach. You hissed to yourself. What an ass. 

-

-

“Why do you push people away?” 

Your eyes snapped to Taehyung as he sat, once more, in front of you. 

“I’m not sure what you mean.” 

“Yes, you do.” he could tell from your instinctual reaction. You looked around, eyes sweeping the room again, as if the walls would somehow disappear. They didn’t, obviously, and you decided that there was no point in hiding. You weren’t sure what Taehyung’s intentions were. He seemed like he was trying to get to know you, like how you had approached him, except he made the mistake of also letting his comrades in to have fun torturing you for information. Luckily, you were a lot more soulless than you let on and you managed to endure the pain. Blood dribbled from your mouth from the earlier beating. You spat this blood onto the floor. 

“Like hell I would tell you.” You shuddered. You knew you were close to breaking. It had been weeks. Yoongi probably didn’t spare you a thought, the heartless bastard, Maybe you were a quick fuck for him and that was all.

“You have nothing left to lose.” He shrugged, reading you easily. He had gotten better at this, slowly worming his way into your mind. 

“You’re right, but I still have some sense of sanity.” Not much. 

“I don’t think you’re a bad person.” He laid a soft hand on your knee. You didn’t even realize you were shaking. 

“I think you’d change your mind really quick if you actually knew me.” You shook your head. The rest of your body hurt too much to even consider moving. 

“Tell me...What’s wrong, Y/N, with the word selfish?” 

Instantly, you growled lowly at the word. “Don’t say that word with my name in the same sentence ever again.” 

He grinned, knowing he hit a nerve. He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. Fine. But at least tell me why.” 

You thought it over a moment, having a battle in your head. The way he stared at you almost made you feel obligated to tell him. You didn’t have the strength to both fight his advances to know you, and to keep yourself fucking alive. So you gave in, promising yourself that this would be the last time. You always broke your promises to yourself. 

“I’m selfish because I don’t want to be selfless.” You emphasized the last part. “I don’t want to give all of myself to someone else or something else because if I gave away a piece of me to every person I’ve ever cared about,” You hesitated before hanging your head low. “I’d have none of myself left. So instead I forcefully rip myself back from their prying hands, even if it breaks them in the process.” 

You were a naturally selfless person. Being selfish was a learned behavior after a long time of being in this world of crime. Taehyung nodded slowly, but there was no pity in his eyes, you hated pity, but he did have understanding. 

“I get it.” He muttered. Then he took your bloodied hand, still tied to the chair, and held it softly. “I’m selfish too.” 

You almost relaxed until those last words. Yoongi flashed across your mind, reminding you of your situation. You jerked your hand back, as much as you could in your situation. He noticed. Taehyung slowly withdrew. 

“Sorry, that was uncalled for.” He apologized, his deep voice its own kind of relaxation. 

“You can do what you want. You’re not the one tied up to a chair. And frankly, that was better than being punched in the gut.” You said with an accusing tone. 

“Ah right.” He scratched the back of his head. “Sorry about that. I just can’t leave you unscathed or else there will be issues.” He glanced at the security cameras. Taehyung usually had great self control. He never said more than he needed to and his co-workers would describe him as short and blunt when speaking. So why did he go to the extra lengths of formalities and apologies when it came to you? He couldn’t put his finger on it. 

“Yeah yeah. As long as there’s no permanent damage, Yoongi might save your life.” You only half joked. 

“You still think Yoongi is coming? It’s been weeks.” He chuckled bitterly. You swallowed thickly, reality dawning on you. 

“I’m sure he is.” You felt your jaw clench. Maybe he was right. Maybe no one was coming for you. 

“I see your resolve wavering. I’m working on...a plan.” His voice dipped low at that last part. You coughed, rolling your eyes. 

“Does that matter now? Why don’t you just kill me already? I’m not giving you information and it’s clear they don’t care enough about me for you to use me as a bargaining chip.” You spat blood onto the ground, too tired to do anything else. You just wanted it all to be over with. 

“Hey,” His voice was gentle, almost soft. “Look at me.” His hand went out to your cheek as you lifted your heavy eyelids to look at him. 

“Come on, Tae, stop dragging this out. I did nothing but keep you captive the entire time you were with me. You owe me nothing.” 

The handsome man nodded. “I know.” He murmured. 

There was a loud bang from somewhere outside. “I just wanted to make sure you know I’m sorry for everything. If we had met under better circumstances, I would have liked to get to know you. But I can’t, not now, and we will probably never meet again.” 

“What do you mean?” Your voice was hushed as another bang came from outside. There were footsteps and loud voices. Taehyung didn’t answer, he just donned a serious expression. Your breath hitched as you watched him take out his gun and flick the safety off. 

“I’ve got to go.” He held up his gun and rushed outside the room, his feet joining the beat of many others. 

-

-

Sitting in the dark is not fun. Your eyes strained against the pitch blackness of the room. There was the smallest sliver of yellow light from under the doorway. It was giving you a headache. You shut your eyes, growing increasingly annoyed by the tightness of the ropes. 

“Could have at least loosened the ropes.” You grumble to yourself. Then you slowly opened your eyes, hearing the commotion die down. Your sense went into overdrive, eyes trapped on the door. Slow, heavy set, footsteps walked down the hallway. It was way too quiet. Your body shook, a natural reaction. Anytime someone stopped outside your door, it had been to beat you until you lost consciousness. Your breath caught in your chest. 

“Y/N?” A deep voice murmured. “Are you alright?” 

You narrowed your eyes, debating whether or not to answer. You didn’t really get a choice, however, because the door flew open to reveal two men you really didn’t want to see. Taehyung and Yoongi. Yoongi was stiffly standing there, drinking in your appearance, while Taehyung panted, clearly from running. 

“Are you alright?” Yoongi asked, swallowing thickly. Then he turned to Taehyung. “You were supposed to keep her safe, you prick.”

Taehyung simply shrugged. The two ignored your bewildered expression. “Hold on. So Taehyung...was a double agent?” 

“This is a dangerous business.” Taehyung smiled wolfishly. 

“I trusted you.” Yoongi grabbed the man’s shirt. You cleared your throat, finally drawing attention to yourself. 

“While I’d love to see this go down, I’d also like my freedom back.” You mused, a smirk on your face. As Yoongi hurried over, untangling you from your ropes, you added more flames to the wildfire of issues between the two men. “You know Taehyung was so good at acting, it fooled me. Especially when he punched me in the gut.” You tried not to wince and you could see he looked away, ashamed. 

“He what?”“ Yoongi turned, staring at Taehyung incredulously. “I should have you killed for this.”

Yoongi helped you out and you felt your legs fall from under you. They were numb, not responding to your desperate wishes for them to move. After all, you had been strapped to that chair for weeks. Yoongi caught you, rough hands running over your bloodied arms. 

“Fuck. I never should have trusted him to keep you safe.” Yoongi murmured, shooting Taehyung a glare. 

“It’s okay, I just...I need some explanation.” You breathed. How long had you been toyed with? Who else knew? Did Jimin know? Why would Yoongi send one of his own to be tortured? 

-

-

“I should kill you right now.” Yoongi held his gun out, finger twitching on the trigger. 

“Now what good would that do?” Taehyung’s mouth quirked upwards ever so slightly. “You’ll never know why I’m here.”

“I don’t need to know.” The shorter man eyed the other’s stance. Taehyung was casually standing there, hand resting on the holster that held his handgun. 

“Do we have a deal?” Taehyung watched Yoongi. 

“Like hell we do.” Yoongi held a blank expression. His eyes roamed Taehyung’s face and body, sizing him up. 

“Come on.” Taehyung ran a hand through his hair. “I’m willing to be your little spy, a double agent against my own gang.”

“Why?”

“I want protection. Total protection when you attack my gang. I’ll even protect Y/N if that’s what you wish.”

That made Yoongi hesitate. He had been looking for a bodyguard. You were of the utmost importance. Jimin stood to the side, ever the shadow. He nudged his boss, “I think it’s a good idea.” He murmured into his ear. 

“I think you know more than you let on, Taehyung. But I’ll give you a chance.” He snapped, waving off the taller man. “You’re dismissed. I want you back here, Friday, to discuss new information.” 

Taehyung bowed his head and left. 

“Jimin.” Yoongi commanded, eyes flicking to the seat in front of him. Jimin took a seat. “I want you to watch Taehyung. Be discreet.” 

The younger man nodded. “I will.” 

“Great, and try not to tell Y/N. She’s stressed out enough as it is.”

-

-

Another punch. Blood flew from a nose. 

“Rot in hell.” 

Blood was spat on the floor. 

“That’s where you’re mistaken. I thrive in hell.” Yoongi bent over Taehyung, studying him. He tilted his head before standing, wiping the blood on his hands onto a rag nearby. “Our deal means nothing. You have no use to me anymore.” Yoongi chuckled darkly, moving to the exit. “I hope you never see the sunlight again.” 

The door slammed shut. 

-

-

I forgot to put this in before I posted, but I’m writing through my iphone hotspot and It’s so slow. - Marria

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[dontshootmespence]

Aastha

Part 1 of 4

Summary: After an unimaginable loss, you discover your powers and become even more cemented in your faith. Sam experiences a similar loss and struggles with it. When you meet, how will your lives change?

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Indian!Superhero!Reader

Words: 1,382

A/N: This is for @bucky-smiles 2K Bollywood Writing Challenge! My prompt was Jab Tak Hai Jaan. The thing that stood out most to me was both of the protagonists’ struggles and/or commitments to faith, so that’s what I drew on for this fic. Although I know that Sam is an orphan in the comics, having lost both his parents to violence, I had him be raised by his mother, so she’s still alive here.

Beta’d by: The lovely @bucky-smiles herself. I wanted to make sure I did the culture and religion justice, so thank you! Also beta’d by another Indian lovely @emilyshurley​, who also made the above aesthetic for me. Thank you both for working with me. It meant a lot for me to get the culture and religion right because representation fucking matters, so your help was invaluable to me. <3

It had started off like any other day in New York City, except it wasn’t any other day. On this day, you’d accompanied your mother and father to work. You’d been waiting for months to go with them to the hospital, to see what they did, and watch what you would do too when you were old enough and out of school.

Alongside your parents, you gave offerings to Krishna murti, setting a flower picked from your yard, a ghee lamp and incense at the feet of the murti. As the mantra passed your lips, you thanked Him for the honor you were about to receive.

“Ready, beta?” Your mother said, smiling proudly upon you.

Excitedly, you nodded, standing tall between your parents on the labyrinthian subway ride to the hospital, knowing nothing about how your life would soon be changed forever.

----

Among the sterile hallways of the vast building, you felt vitality, blood pulsing through your veins as you watched your parents perform surgeries through the glass partitions. Despite your young age, their bloodied hands didn’t scare you; you knew the heroics they performed each and every day.

After a lunch break with them both, during which time you regaled them with knowledge that they’d one day have a brain surgeon in the family, you returned to watch your mother work – performing a triple bypass on an older gentleman.

Underneath your feet, you felt a quick thud, like the bass drum of the music you loved – registering it and moving on. Before you could glance back up, the floor gave way, debris pelting you from all directions as the flames consumed you.

----

Standing at the apex of the explosion, no one had expected you to make it out alive, no less make it out without a scratch. Everyone else in the area, including your mother, had been killed when the boilers exploded. “Why, baba?” You asked, hand engulfed by his as he sat at your bedside, in a different hospital a town over. “Why Ma and not me?”

Sadly, he grazed his fingers along your cheek. “I don’t know, beta. But I have to believe Bhagwan has a plan, and that he saved you for a reason.”

----

For many years, it wasn’t apparent to you why you would’ve been saved from the blaze. Without your mother, you retreated into yourself, becoming angrier and angrier at Bhagwan, everyone, the world. You should’ve been consumed by fire. But you left the hospital without a burn in sight.

As you got older, you noticed things moving without the slightest pressure on your part. And occasionally, you’d get a small cut and have it disappear within what seemed like minutes. But you didn’t think anything of it. You were growing, still a kid in most senses, so maybe you just had a really amazing immune system.

It wasn’t until nearly five years later, when you were just on the cusp of your 16th birthday, that you found the reason – the purpose He had for you. Walking home from school, you heard a woman screaming, gasping for air as she begged whoever was nearby to leave her alone. Approaching the noise, you peeked around the corner of the alley to see an imposing man, who had to be well over six feet, towering over a small woman, probably no more than five years older than you.

When he put his hand on her, your blood boiled and without thinking, you came out from your hiding spot and screamed. “Leave her alone!”

The man looked at you with a sinister sneer, easing his grasp on the young woman and turning his full attention toward you. “Run along, little one,” he said condescendingly, waving you off as the woman stared at you in terror, her eyes brimming with tears. “Go back to school.”

“I’m going home from school actually,” you said without thought for the consequences. You should’ve been scared, but it’s like you were imbued with purpose. This moment – right now. “Get your hands off her.”

Turning from the young woman, he reeled back and punched her in face, undoubtedly planning on dealing with you before he returned to her, but as he approached, you didn’t sink into yourself. You cemented yourself in place, pushing against him with all of your might the moment he was within your reach.

Taken aback, you watched as the man flew nearly 30 feet forward, hitting his leg against the brick wall of the alleyway. A string of curses flew from his lips as he got up, ready to charge at you again, when a searing heat curled its way around your hands and arms, stopping him in place. Tales had been told of superheroes before. But they were just stories, right? Why you?

Shakily, you lifted your arms and held them in front of your body, challenging the man to test you. But he didn’t. In astonishment, he stepped back, his eyes drifting toward the young woman who was attempting to get up. When you saw him weighing the possibilities, debating whether or not to go after her or run, you ran forward and screamed, an intense firestorm barreling toward him.

When the flames dissipated, he was gone, his footsteps getting further and further away by the second. Turning, you saw the young woman, eyes wide, but not afraid. “What-what are you?”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled in reply. Is this why Bhagwan had saved you?

----

As steel gray fell unhindered against the backdrop of a clear blue sky, Sam felt his grip on reality - everything he’d come to know – slip through his fingertips. Flying toward the ground at breakneck speed, Sam retracted the wings of the EXO-7 Falcon and bounded toward Riley, who was tumbling head over heels, careening toward the sea of sand and stone below. “Please, God,” he muttered, his face stinging against the hardened wind. “Please.”

Screaming toward the approaching earth, Sam dove as fast as his body would take him. Blood pounded in his ears; his muscles alight with fire. No matter how fast he willed his body to move, he remained suspended in the air, watching as Riley smashed into the ground below.

On reflex alone, Sam extended the EXO’s wings and glided into the ground, watching as his fellow troops descended upon Riley’s disfigured form. Falling to his knees, he let out a blood-curdling scream, only able to look on helplessly as his fellow soldiers attempted to resuscitate him – but it was to no avail.

He was already gone.

-----

In the days and weeks after Riley’s death, Sam found himself going about his life in a daze - as if the world stood still and he moved through it, slow as molasses out of a bottle. Nothing anyone said penetrated. Nothing anyone said mattered. Unwilling to put anyone else in danger because of his ‘inability to deal,’ he returned home.

Though he felt grateful to return to his loved ones, to see his mother again, he walked around in constant anger. Not sadness, but anger. And he couldn’t understand why. Until his mother spoke. “Go speak to Jesus,” she’d said. “He’ll help you through this.” It took every ounce of strength to keep himself from snapping at his mother. Instead, he turned his anger to where it truly belonged.

Excusing himself, he moved through the streets of Harlem with a purpose he hadn’t felt for many years. When the deep-red brick, mottled from years of neglect and the elements, came into sight, Sam clenched his fists, unable to stave off the broiling anger rolling through him. He walked up the stairs and through the heavy wooden doors, eyes welling up with unshed tears.

When he was a kid, he remembered feeling welcome there, among the bright, white walls, delicate stained glass and red upholstered, wooden chairs. But in that moment, he had tunnel vision, everything around him blurring into nothingness as he stared down the statue before his eyes. If a glare could destroy, the statue would crumble. “Never again,” he breathed through clenched teeth.

From that moment on, Sam believed what lay before him. The color of the sky. The stories told by those in his support group. And eventually, the man with the shield. And you.

[anubislover]

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya chapter 10: Heated Discussions

Nami wasn’t sure how long or how far she’d run through the winding backstreets of Grimm, but she didn’t stop until her legs literally gave out from under her, forcing her down onto the hard pavement of a dark alley.

Panic gripped her vital organs like a meaty fist. Her body was on fire, sweat dripped down her spine, and every inhalation was agony as her lungs struggled to draw in the barest amount of oxygen needed to keep up with the blood rushing through her veins. The Heart Pirate jumpsuit was suffocating her, holding in the unbearable heat and chafing her hyper-sensitive skin, but she was too weak and exhausted to take it off, forced to broil alive in the heavy canvas.

For a few minutes she just lay there, her sole thought a silent plea for her heart to stop trying to beating against her ribcage like Luffy’s angry punches. Orange hair darkened with sweat, tears streaked down her face, and the only sounds she could make were ragged sobs.

“Miss? Are you alright?” came a deep, authoritative voice from above her, and she trembled. Was it Arlong? Had he found her? Was he going to beat her for running away? Kill Nojiko and Mr. Genzo? Destroy some innocent villager’s house as a display of his “superior” species’ power?

Please, please don’t hurt them! I’ll be good, I swear! Nami thought, squeezing her eyes closed and drawing her legs against her torso to protect herself. It would hurt, but if she had to choose between getting hit and seeing the people she loved suffer, she’d take the blows every time.

“Miss, speak to me—are you hurt? Were you attacked? Do you need a doctor?”

Did she need a doctor? Dr. Nako had fixed up fevers, scraped knees, and stomach aches since she was a child. But no, Arlong would find out and make an example of him. Nami managed the barest shake of her head, curling even more tightly into a ball, mentally begging the stranger to just leave her alone before he got himself killed. People who tried to help her always died the most horrible deaths. Memories of Bellemere’s final moments, of blood and skull fragments splattering as Arlong shot her point-blank, made Nami start hyperventilating. She couldn’t see that again, not even to a stranger, no no no no nononononononono…

Large, strong hands rested on her back and legs, gently straightening her out. “I know you’re scared, but you need to stop pressing your knees into your stomach—it’s keeping your lungs from expanding fully, so you’re not getting the air you need.”

The voice was steady and knowing, at just the right octave to cut through the heavy pounding of blood in her ears. Unconsciously she obeyed, knees lowering, and her lungs swelled as she took several deep breaths.

“There you go. Just focus on breathing. In. Out. Here.” Nami flinched as she heard fabric rustling, trying to draw into herself again as she imagined her mystery man drawing a weapon, but she immediately relaxed as her nose was greeted by the clean, familiar aroma of oranges and mikans. “Breathe this in. Citrus scents reduce stress and anxiety.”

Like an ocean wave, the thought of Bellemere’s grove washed over her. She remembered the safety of her mother’s arms, how her hands always smelled like mikans no matter how many times she washed them. She remembered Nojiko making mikan shampoo for the first time, giving her a bottle before going off to rob more pirates. She remembered the delicious fruit dishes Sanji would make her, the times she’d find Zoro napping under the trees, the iced tea she’d share with Robin, watching Chopper try a fresh mikan for the first time, and knocking Luffy over the head when she caught him pilfering her fruit.

The smell made her feel safe. Like she was home, with her family and nakama.

After a few minutes her heart rate began to slow, aided by the hand on her back rubbing deliberate, soothing circles between her shoulder blades. “That’s better. Miss, can you sit up? I want to make sure you’re not injured.”

Nodding mutely, she allowed the man to help her sit upright and lean against the hard brick wall. She could breathe again, but she was still miserably hot. Lethargic fingers clumsily tried to unzip the top of her jumpsuit, desperate to vent the heat that had built up inside the thick fabric. Her hands were halted by a larger pair quickly grabbing them, however, as the voice shouted, “Whoa, whoa! Miss! There’s no need to get undressed!”

Her eyes finally opened enough to see a blushing, wide-eyed man around thirty years old staring down at her in shock and embarrassment.

“Please,” she whimpered, struggling weakly against his grip. “I’m burning up.”

His cheeks turned a dangerous shade of scarlet at her needy tone, and he looked away, clearly uncomfortable. “Are you at least wearing something underneath?” he choked out.

A tiny smile lifted the corner of her lips. It seemed her savior was either a gentleman or just incredibly shy. Good thing she’d had the foresight to wear a sports bra and shorts under the jumpsuit. “Uh huh. Please, I just…I need it off.”

“Ok. I’ll…help you undress, then.”

She audibly moaned in relief when the cool air touched her sweaty skin. Invigorated, she managed to peel the whole uniform off, a satisfied smile coming to her face as her temperature finally dropped. It was like jumping into a cool lagoon on the hottest day of the year, banishing the wretched layer of stifling humidity that had trapped her.

No longer panicking or burning up, Nami’s mind at last cleared enough to realize what she’d done. She’d managed to disobey every order Law’d given her—she ran off on her own, ditched her companions, and removed the uniform. She was in so much trouble when he found her.

She didn’t disillusion herself with the idea that he wouldn’t. Law’s abilities could let him scan the whole island and teleport her back to his ship in an instant if he wanted. It’s not like she could escape Grimm, either—she had no boat, no crew, and no real idea where to go, and she was smart enough to know he’d still probably spend his days searching for her, if for no other reason than she’d attacked his crew.

Oh, damn, I hope they’re alright, she thought, burying her face in her hands. Her wind attacks weren’t deadly, but accidents happened, and she really couldn’t remember exactly what she’d done in her panic. What if it had been strong enough to trip Ikkaku and crack her skull open on the street? What if it knocked Shachi over and re-broke his arm? What if it sent Bepo stumbling back into a stray, sharp piece of wood, impaling a vital organ? Nami might have been scared, but she’d never forgive herself if she’d brought any harm to them.

An awkward cough caught her attention, and forcing the dark possibilities that she’d killed her friends from her mind, Nami distracted herself by finally giving her savior a proper look.

Even sitting down, the man was large. About Bepo’s height by her estimate and as muscular as Smoker, he had a hooked nose, X-shaped scar across his chin, and blue eyes that stood out starkly against the black domino mask and the shadow cast by his pointed, plumed hat. His ginger hair was a few shades darker than hers, with thick sideburns framing his chiseled, lantern jaw. Nearly his entire outfit was made of midnight blue leather, from his gloves to his thigh-high boots to his bolero. Clipped to his broad shoulders was a long cape, also blue but lined with burgundy red on the inside. His chest was exposed, showcasing the enormous X tattoo adorning his torso, and at his side were two massive weapons—a saber and what appeared to be the lovechild of a mace and an axe.

That’s “Red Flag” X Drake, Nami realized, the Supernova’s wanted poster instantly popping into her head. He wasn’t quite as notoriously sadistic or infamously violent as Law or Eustass Kid, but it was easy to remember a pirate who’d defected from the Marines. She’d assumed he’d headed off to the New World like the others, but perhaps he was like Law and thought it better to wait things out?

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, deliberately keeping his eyes on her face.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Th-thanks for the h-help,” she replied with a stammer, desperately trying to convince her heart there was no need to panic again. Of course, her instincts knew better; X Drake was a pirate on the Grand Line and a Supernova at that. His bounty was even higher than Law’s, and probably for good reason. She was alone with him in a back alley with no crew to back her up, whether Straw Hat or Heart Pirate. A woman with her limited combat prowess stood a snowball’s chance in hell against him in a fight, and he was big enough to crush her throat with one hand if he wanted to.

Yet…he seemed nervous. The redness had faded from his face, but there was still a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks. His posture seemed casual at first glance, but she could see the subtle tension in his neck and shoulders. Most noticeably, he was doing his damnedest not to look anywhere below her chin, even though his greater height gave him an excellent view of her exposed cleavage.

Drake was a rival pirate and former rear-admiral of the Navy, but she got the feeling that if she really needed to, she could easily escape by flashing him.

“Good to hear, though I really don’t think you should be stripping around here, and especially not asking strange men to help you. Most might consider it an…invitation,” he said, awkwardly scratching his jaw as he glanced away, blushing harder at the thought.

A small smile curved her lips. Yup, he was definitely trying not to stare at her half-naked body. Who would have thought a man as infamous as X Drake would be so bashful? “But not you?”

“I prefer my invitations to be enthusiastic and explicit,” was his stiff reply as he leaned against the wall beside her. Nami didn’t miss the brief, almost guilty glances he stole at her from the corner of his eye, though. “And certainly not from a woman in the midst of a panic attack.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said with a wink. She was feeling much more clear-headed and like her normal self now that her brain wasn’t being cooked, and the knowledge that X Drake had such an easily exploited weakness to her body made her relax. “Why do you carry around mikan perfume, anyway?”

The pink tips of his ears deepened. “It’s not perfume; it’s orange extract. During my time in the Marines, I had many comrades who suffered PTSD or panic attacks, and aromatherapy has been proven to be good for reducing anxiety—particularly citrus scents. I rarely experience them myself anymore, but it’s still useful during periods of extreme stress. Seemed to be rather effective on you,” he said with a raised eyebrow before quickly glancing away.

Taking pity on him, Nami drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them so he wasn’t given such a shameless view of her bountiful chest. “I grew up in a mikan grove. The smell reminds me of home.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, a look of understanding softening his stern features. “Does it? No wonder, then.” He handed her the bottle. “Dab a little under your nose and rub some on your hands—better safe than sorry.”

Gratefully she did so, relishing the refreshing, familiar scent of her favorite fruit. “Thanks. Guess I’m lucky you’re the one who stumbled across me, huh?”

“I’ll say. I was passing by when I saw you running like the Devil himself was after you. Piqued my curiosity, and I suppose not all of my Marine training has left me; simply had to help a damsel in distress.”

She chuckled, though it turned into a soft moan of relief as the bare skin of her back pressed against the cool brick behind her.

Drake’s brow furrowed as he looked her over critically. “You really shouldn’t sit around half-dressed out here, you know.”

“Because of men without invitations?”

“Because it’s far too cold to be walking around in so little, and with the sheen of sweat on your skin, you’re at a high risk of getting hypothermia.”

Nami stubbornly shook her head, though she frowned at the feeling of the damp ends of her hair against her bare shoulders. “Honestly, that damn jumpsuit was so hot, freezing to death sounds like a dream come true right now.”

“Yes, but I’m sure your crew would be quite distraught to find out you’d died in such an ignoble way.”

She stiffened at the mention of her crew. Was he talking about the Heart Pirates or Straw Hats? “Yeah, fair enough. I just really don’t want to get back in that thing,” she replied, toe nudging the boiler suit disdainfully.

Drake scoffed in agreement. “Considering whose emblem is on it, I don’t blame you.” Standing, he hoisted her to her feet as if she weighed nothing. Now Nami could see just how tall he was, completely towering over her. She thought he might get all flustered again as her cleavage was once more on display, but his intense blue eyes were fixed upon the swirling tattoo on her shoulder. “I must say, I’m surprised—I didn’t believe the outlandish rumors that Cat Thief Nami had joined the Heart Pirates, even after Jinzo started babbling about why he didn’t have my money. I figured he was just making excuses. And yet, here you are.”

She stiffened. Well, now she knew who the broker’s next appointment was supposed to have been. “Ah. I’m guessing he was mad?”

A red eyebrow quirked, and his lips twitched upwards in amusement. “He was quite vocal about what he hoped to do to you for costing him so much belli. You’re lucky I found you instead of any of his men. A woman by herself is already taking a great risk wandering around in these back alleys—even more so when she’s made an enemy of the island’s most unscrupulous black market broker.”

She gulped at the implication. Damn, Law really was right, wasn’t he? If someone other than Drake had come across her while she was helpless on the ground…

“Well, I appreciate the rescue,” she squeaked, deciding it was time to head back to the Polar Tang. Glancing up and down the alley, she tried to recall her steps. She’d pretty much run blindly through the alleyways, but she was certain her natural sense of direction could get her back to the docks. Sure, Law would be mad at her for running off, but he was a hell of a lot safer than Jinzo. She shivered at the memory of the man’s hateful stare as Law had led her away, certain she’d be in a hell of a lot of trouble if she ran into him in the grungy alley.

Mistaking her shiver for the cold finally getting to her, Drake unclipped his cape, wrapping it around her shoulders with a flourish, bundling her in tightly. “There. It would be a shame for you to die of exposure before I got you back to the ship.”

A small whine escaped the back of her throat as she was engulfed by the thick fabric, once more feeling stifled and too hot. She struggled to escape the long cloak, but he only wrapped her up tighter.

“Let me go,” so moaned pathetically, face once more flushing as her heart sped up. The material was softer than the boiler suit, but it was still heavy and suffocating, and Drake’s lingering body heat in the fibers made it worse. “It’s too hot!”

“Miss Nami, unless you’ve recently eaten some sort of fire-based Devil Fruit, I can’t imagine how you could be anything but freezing,” he said with a stern frown. “I understand you’re afraid of me, and with good reason, but I won’t hurt you if you come quietly. I’m not in the business of harming hostages unless absolutely necessary.”

“Hostages?”

A hint of a sly smirk tugged at his lips. “I confess, I am a bit miffed at you for causing Jinzo to reschedule on me—he owes me a lot of belli, and I was hoping to be off this damn island by now. Kidnapping you is not only cathartic, but profitable; your bounty’s hardly worth turning you in for, but perhaps Jinzo might make me a better offer. Or I could put your skills to use in exchange for your eventual freedom. After all, your thieving skills are quite notorious, and Trafalgar must have recruited you for a reason.”

Oh no. The last thing she needed was to be the slave of another pirate captain. “Um, how about you ransom me to Law?” she suggested hopefully. “I’m sure he could pay whatever you were going to ask Jinzo, and then some!” Angry as the Surgeon of Death might be about her running off and getting kidnapped, surely he’d be able to rescue her if he knew X Drake had her, right? It’d be easy with his powers, and there’d be no need to buy her back when he could snatch her away with a flick of his fingers.

There was a brief, angry flash of sharp fangs as he growled, “Because the less I have to interact with that smarmy bastard, the happier I’ll be. Don’t think I don’t see through your little scheme; why would he pay when his powers can easily steal you back? Besides that, I’ll be damned if I let that ingrate gain an extra advantage by poaching Straw Hat’s thief.”

“Let me go!” she cried. Drake’s sudden switch from surprisingly helpful to a legitimate threat to her well-being demanded she pull together what little energy she had and escape. The problem was she was running on fumes and in the clutches of an eight-foot-tall former Marine whose bicep was thicker than her waist and could probably crush her skull with one hand like a rotten apple if he desired. Fighting was definitely out, and with the way he’d swaddled her in his cloak, she couldn’t even flash him like she’d planned.

Desperate, Nami attempted to wiggle out of the heavy fabric, but he grabbed the collar and tugged her close, looming over her threateningly.

“Don’t bother trying to run—even if you did somehow get away, you’re covered in both my scent and the citrus oil.” For a moment, his eyes shifted, harsh, reptilian yellow overtaking the blue, and he took a deep breath through his nose. “In a rancid cesspool like this, I’d hunt you down easily. If you come quietly, I promise you will be treated well; perhaps even invited to join my crew, if you play your cards right. If you resist, I’ll have to switch the orange extract for chloroform, and the next time you wake up, you’ll be in Jinzo’s possession.”

Once more, her heart began to race, but thankfully her mind wasn’t overcome yet with memories and panic. “Look, I…I’m sorry if I accidentally caused you trouble, but Jinzo’s a cheapskate who’d rather kill you to get me than actually pay. And if what you’re worried about is my alliance with Law, it’s just a temporary partnership! I don’t even like the guy!”

“Nobody likes Trafalgar; he’s a sadistic asshole.” A massive arm wrapped around her tiny waist and he hoisted her up so her feet dangled above the ground, pressing her against his scorching chest. “And if that’s truly the case, then you have even less reason to resist—think of it as a rescue.”

“From the way things look, the only one she needs to be saved from is you, Drake-ya.”

A blue aura surrounded them, and in an instant Nami was out of Drake’s grasp and firmly in Law’s, one tattooed arm wrapping possessively around her bare midriff while the other leaned Kikoku casually on his shoulder. Hard plains of muscle pressed against her back, and she could feel his sharp chin rest on the top of her head.

Nami’s body was tense, but not as much as it had been with Drake. Some of it had to do with the essential oil keeping her calm and the cool air once more regulating her temperature, but it was mostly because, dangerous as he was, Law was the devil she knew. No matter how pissed he might be at her disobedience, he would protect her; she was his property, right? Arlong had certainly punished her for her misdeeds against him, but he’d never allowed anyone not on his crew lay so much as a hand on her.

Pirates didn’t like other people touching their things, after all.

“Been a while, Drake-ya,” Law’s smooth voice caressed her ears. “Making a move on my Cat Thief, I see. How’s that going so far? Have you told her how many people you’ve killed? I’m sure that always impresses the ladies.”

“Trafalgar,” Drake spat, glaring disdainfully between the empty cape in his hand and the man standing ten feet away. “I’m quite certain the woman belongs to Straw Hat, not you.”

“Hmmm, normally, but since I was nice enough to save his life, I thought it was only fair that he let me borrow her while he trains.” Law chuckled and Nami felt his nose playfully nuzzle her temple as his hand slid up to splay just beneath her breast. “You know I’ve got a thing for feisty gingers.”

The former Marine snorted in response as he donned his cloak. “Well, since she’s apparently the reason Jinzo had to reschedule our appointment, I think it’s only fair that I ‘borrow’ her for a while as recompense.”

“Sorry, she and I have dinner plans tonight. Besides, I did you a favor—he’s not as good as Kimo when it comes to honoring deals. Had the nerve to try and give me less than a third of our agreed-on price. If it hadn’t been for my little kitten here, you’d be trying to negotiate with a corpse.”

Hearing Law call her “kitten” made Nami shudder, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. It felt disturbingly familiar somehow and made the hairs on the back of her neck rise as goosebumps rippled across her skin.

Drake crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Jinzo’s unscrupulous scum, but he owes me money. Money that your ‘little kitten’ managed to swindle from him, the way he tells it.”

“If he’d brought the amount Kimo had agreed to pay me, I wouldn’t have needed her uncanny haggling skills.” Law cocked his head to the side. “Out of curiosity, how much does he owe you?”

“600 million belli.”

“He only had 725 million on him for his four scheduled deals, and he only planned to pay me 200 million. So even if his other clients were working for free, he had no intention of paying your asking price.” He let out a wry chuckle. “The man must have a death wish, looking to cheat two Supernovas in one day.”

Drake swore under his breath. “Fine. If he won’t pay me properly, I’ll just have to wring his neck and take the money from him. But considering how you still ruined my plans to leave this wretched place on schedule, I’m ruining your dinner plans. Now hand the Cat Thief over,” he growled, gripping the hilt of his saber. “I have a greater need for her than you.”

The nodachi on Law’s shoulder shifted in response. “Look, not that I’m opposed to you getting laid—anything to get the stick out of your ass—but Nami-ya’s mine.” The woman in question could practically hear Law’s smirk as he continued, “Why don’t you try the brothel the next street over? I’m sure the lovely ladies there will be happy to service your ‘needs’ for the right price.”

Drake gaped for a moment before sputtering, “I’m not looking to sleep with her!”

“Now don’t be bashful, Drake-ya! Sexual urges are completely healthy and natural, and I certainly don’t blame you for wanting a sexy redhead. Hell, maybe she can finally help you ditch your V-card.”

“You know I’m not a virgin!” he snapped, face flushing dark red in humiliation a second later as he realized precisely what he’d said.

Law’s grin widened, more than happy to take advantage of the slip. “Oh yeah—I do, don’t I? Never imagined I’d get to tame a dinosaur, but anything’s possible on the Grand Line, right?”

Nami’s jaw dropped as her cheeks heated. Holy crap, Law and Drake? Together?! She had so many questions.

“You didn’t ‘tame’ me,” Drake growled as he forced himself to calm down, though his ears still burned to match his ginger hair.

“Oh? So you’d let any man ride you? Slut.”

Maybe it was her imagination, but Nami swore she could feel Law’s erection against her lower back. Was he seriously getting turned on by this? She began to feel warm again as her own arousal spiked, much to her irritation. Could anyone blame her, though? Drake was not an unattractive man, and the mental image of him and Law battling for dominance in the bedroom was certainly titillating.

“Trafalgar,” he snarled, eyes morphing into their yellow, reptilian state, “either you hand over the woman right now or—”

“Or what? You’ll take her from me? Sorry, Drake-ya, but you know what a possessive bastard I am. I found her first, so she’s mine.”

“I don’t see your name on her,” he said petulantly.

Law spared the woman in his arms a small glare. “She’s a crafty kitten that likes to slip her leash sometimes, but I’m happy to stake my claim here and now.” A tattooed hand cupped her breast as her rolled his hips against her ass. There was no mistake what he had in mind. “Feel free to watch—you might learn something.”

There he went calling her “kitten” again, and his shameless groping nearly made Nami choke. She’d grown used to his flirting and suggestive touches, but he’d never been this blatant! Hell, compared to this, he’d been downright chaste when they’d made out in the mansion hall and when he’d given her that hickey! Was it his weird form of punishing her for running off? Or was it just to mess with Drake? Law certainly seemed to enjoy riling the other pirate up, but did he need to go so far as to threaten to fuck her in front of him to scare Drake away?

More importantly, would that even work? Law’d basically been putting her scantily clad figure on display for him throughout the entire conversation, but Drake didn’t seem nearly as flustered as he’d been when it had just been the two of them. Maybe Law’s insults and innuendos had distracted him enough to look past Nami’s full breasts and sensual curves before, but the way he was looking at her now…

It was similar to the hungry gaze Law sometimes gave her, only more feral. Animalistic. And she wasn’t fully sure if it was directed at her, the Surgeon of Death, or both.

Whichever it was, Law was playing a dangerous game of chicken, and if Drake snapped, she was the one caught in the middle.

The idea that the argument might morph into a violent, sexual brawl made Nami renew her struggles. “Will you both quit fucking talking about me like I’m some stupid toy you’re fighting over?!” she snapped, twisting and writhing in Law’s arms. “If you want to measure dicks, go ahead; just leave me out of it!”

Both men seemed momentarily taken aback by her outburst, though Law recovered quickly enough to tighten his arm around her waist. The sheathed nodachi pressed threateningly to her bare throat, saying without words that she was dancing on thin ice, and Nami reluctantly stilled. Out of the corner of her eye she saw gold eyes narrow at her defiance before his expression morphed back into a cocky smirk. “See, Drake-ya? This little kitten’s way too feisty for you to handle.”

“I only hope she scratches your eyes out,” he countered, though he did back off slightly, his eyes returning to normal. Ignoring his rival, he addressed the Cat Thief directly, though it was obvious her bare skin distracted him. “Miss Nami, I’m sure with Straw Hat missing you’re only associating yourself with Trafalgar out of desperation. However, I can assure you that you can do far better than this psychopath.”

Before she could answer, the alley was once more engulfed in blue, and Nami groaned as she found herself redressed in the Heart Pirate uniform. Behind her, Law sneered, “Maybe she can, but she’s paying off Straw Hat’s life debt to me, so she’s mine until her contract is up. I might be willing to lend her to you in exchange for a few favors, but that’s something you negotiate with me—not her.”

The jumpsuit was hot, uncomfortably damp with sweat, and combined with Law’s arms wrapped tightly around her, even more suffocating than before. Nami’s heart was once more beginning to race, chest rising and falling hard as she fought to draw breath. It wasn’t as bad as before due to the essential oil still lingering under her nose, but her body was slowly reverting back into fight or flight mode.

Tension rose as the two pirates glared at each other, neither noticing nor caring about the woman’s distress.

Pulling off a leather glove, Drake’s hand shifted into a reptilian claw before their eyes. Flexing his talons menacingly, he growled, “A debt, huh? Well, if I kill you right now, that should clear any debt away and she’ll be free to do as she pleases. How about it, Miss Nami? Agree to help me strip Jinzo of every last belli he’s ever earned, and I’ll be happy to tear Trafalgar’s head off.”

“You threaten that every time, Drake-ya, and yet the only ‘head’ you’ve ever gotten—”

“Law, please, let me go,” Nami cut in, desperate to gain some breathing space and shed the jumpsuit like a snake would its skin. His body heat made it even worse, managing to seep through the dense canvas into her back, and his hot breath at her ear sizzled the damp skin. Despite the lingering smell of citrus, her pulse fluttered, anxiety strumming her veins like guitar strings.

“Stay right there,” the dark doctor rasped, Kikoku dropping to press against her waist while his free hand slid up to wrap threateningly around her throat, “or I really will put a collar on you.” Glancing back up at the former Marine, Law flashed a dangerous smile. “You know, Drake-ya, there’s no reason we can’t all get along. Hell, why don’t you join my crew? The pay’s good, and I wouldn’t mind my very own pet Allosaurus.”

Drake’s mouth twisted in a deep scowl, though Nami didn’t miss the way his eyes briefly dropped to Law’s hand as it trailed down to trace the Heart Pirate logo on her chest. “I’m no one’s pet, least of all yours.”

“You say that now, but I think you’d enjoy it—I know I would. Two sexy, fiery redheads, naked in my bed is pretty much my ultimate fantasy. I’d even let you help me train Nami-ya—she needs to learn obedience, but I know you’ve got no trouble following orders, eh, Navy-boy?”

For a moment, Drake’s eyes lingered on them, and she swore it looked like he was considering it, especially when Law nipped her ear, making her gasp, her chest expanding upwards as her cheeks deepened to an obscene shade of scarlet. She could imagine she looked like a wet dream; sweaty hair tousled, face flushed, cleavage peeking out of the jumpsuit’s opening, lips parted as she panted lightly. Law probably looked just as tempting, with his inviting golden stare, dexterous fingers, and wicked smirk.

Law was absolutely giving an enthusiastic and explicit invitation, and both pirates had shown that Nami’s opinion on the matter was a mere afterthought.

The man behind her shifted, and this time she was positive she could feel the Dark Doctor’s cock straining against her. “Law, please,” she whimpered, sweat breaking out across her brow.

“Mmm, much as I love hearing you beg, Nami-ya, you’re just going to have to be patient. Unless you want to put on a show for Drake-ya?” Long fingers pinched the tab of her zipper, slowly pulling it down to expose more of her cleavage. “Give him a taste of what he could have if he joins us?”

That seemed to snap Drake out of whatever lustful trance Law had lured him into, as his face went bright red and his scowl returned. “Ugh, you’re a disgusting cretin, Trafalgar. I’m not subjecting myself to your presence any longer.” Tipping his plumed hat, he spun on his heel. “If you ever come to your senses and decide to ditch this sadistic bastard, Miss Nami, feel free to seek me out.”

“Damn. I was hoping he’d try to call my bluff,” Law chuckled as the tall redhead disappeared down an alley. “I’d love to show him how I discipline disobedient kittens when they run off.”

“You’ve got the weirdest kinks!” she snapped, struggling desperately in his arms. The moist jumpsuit rubbed unpleasantly against her bare skin like wet sandpaper. The sensation finally brought to light why Law’s new nickname made her so uncomfortable—Arlong had often referred to her as a kitten. Usually as a term of affection, but also a way to further show how little he thought of her species, that he regarded animals typically kept as pets as more worthy of his respect than humans. “Let me go—I’m not your kitten!”

Law released her long enough to spin her around and start walking her backwards with slow, sure strides, gold eyes drilling into hers. “And yet it’s the most accurate description I can think of—you’re a clueless little kitten who has no self-preservation skills likely to get ripped apart by wild dogs!” With a thump her back hit the rough brick wall, but any relief the cool stone might have provided was short-lived as Law pressed his entire body against her front to trap her. “Ditching the uniform was bad enough, but running off on your own? Making a scene in public and attacking your crew? If you were even half as smart as you claim to be, you never would have taken such a stupid risk.”

“I wasn’t thinking—”

“Damn right you weren’t thinking!” he snapped. “I don’t care if you think the uniform’s ugly or uncomfortable, when I give you an order, you obey it!”

“It’s just clothes!”

“If it were just clothes, you wouldn’t have been the one to make it such a huge fucking deal! The fact that you couldn’t follow such a basic order proves you can’t be trusted.” Without breaking eye contact, he reached down, dragging the zipper up to her neck and buttoning the collar so not an inch of flesh south of her chin was exposed. “Now, unless you want me to make good on my threat to discipline you, you’re going to leave that as it is. You managed to punt any leniency I had for your bratty antics right out the window. We’re going back to the ship, where you will be confined for the foreseeable future. If I have to, I’ll chain you to a desk where you’ll spend the rest of the year drawing maps and sea charts for me.”

Her eyes widened at the threat. It was far too much like her dream; like what she’d gone through with Arlong. Panic made her adrenalin spike, and with ever less ventilation than before, the temperature inside the suit rose further. “Please, Law, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t—”

Furious that she was still trying to argue, his voice was as hard and biting as ice as he said, “I’m not interested in excuses, Nami-ya. You disobeyed me, and even more damning, you attacked my crew. I told you when we first met that I’d make you suffer if you brought any harm to them, and I intend to keep that promise.”

“I didn’t mean to! They were threatening me!” she simpered, trying to pull away, but like the man pressed to her front, the wall at her back wasn’t going to relent for the sake of a small, terrified woman.

“Threatening you? Ikkaku, Bepo, and Shachi? If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable,” he snorted, grabbing her left arm in a bruising grip when she tried to unzip the uniform.

“They wanted to tattoo me! To brand me as your property!” Unconsciously she clutched her shoulder, fingers digging into the scars left by her old tattoo. “I couldn’t let them do that to me. Not again.”

“And why would they want to do that?” he asked sarcastically. “Convince me before I cut out your slanderous tongue.”

“So that I couldn’t escape. So that no matter where I went or how I tried to hide, everyone would see that I’m yours,” she whispered, eyes dulling as she recalled the judgmental glares the villagers would give her every time they saw Arlong’s tattoo. Even if it had all been an act, they had cut deeply at the time, and even now she felt overwhelming shame.

Tsking in irritation, he finally gave her a few inches of space. “You make it sound like I’ve enslaved you—you’re the one who came to me, demanding the I let you settle Mugiwara’s debt. What we have is a deal; join my crew until it’s paid off. But it’s pretty hard to do that if Drake-ya or others make off with you, isn’t it? So if I have to make you wear a uniform or even tattoo my mark onto you, so be it.”

Nami’s mind clouded, fear firmly taking hold. She and Arlong had had a deal, too, and he’d used every dirty trick imaginable to deny his cartographer her freedom. What made Law any different? How did she know he’d keep his word and let her leave at the end of the year? What was stopping him from chaining her up and keeping her as a pet, from basically enslaving her even as he called her a valued shipmate?

It was too hot, her flesh felt like it was melting off her bones, blood was pounding in her ears, her scars throbbed, and her vision grew hazy as she began to hyperventilate. In her mind, Law and Arlong shifted and blended together, and trapped and scared against her monstrous captain, panic finally overwhelmed her.

“I’m not your fucking property!” she screeched, slamming her fists against his chest, nails attempting to claw at his face like a caged animal. Unwilling to let her gouge his eyes out, he grabbed her by the wrists, pinning her to the wall with his full body weight. “Get off of me! I’m not your fucking shipmate, or your kitten, or anything! I’d sooner die than let you use me again! I hate you!”

“Will you calm the fuck down?! What is your problem—” Law snapped, but his anger shifted to concern as he felt just how sweltering her skin had become and how erratic her pulse was. The last dregs of irritation vanished as he finally allowed himself to carefully study her, taking in her flushed and sweaty face, unfocused gaze, and shallow wheezes.

His brow furrowed as he stepped back, surrounding her with his Room and quickly Scanning her.

“Fuck,” her bit out under his breath. “So that’s your problem. Nami-ya, close your eyes.”

“Why the fuck should I do that?!” she screamed, attempting to dart to the side, but her escape route was swiftly blocked.

“Because this’ll be a lot less traumatizing if you don’t watch what I’m about to do.” When her eyes widened further, he smacked his forehead, annoyed at himself for his poor wording. “It’s the birth control medication I injected you with—you’re having a bad reaction to it. The chemical imbalance is giving you a massive panic attack, and the stress is causing you to overheat, which is slowly frying your brain. I need to remove the drug from your system, and considering how squeamish you are, I can promise, you’re not going to want to see how.”

“I…”

His expression turned desperate as he beseeched, “Nami-ya, please, I know it goes against your every instinct right now, but I need you to trust me.”

Swallowing hard, she nodded, forcing herself to close her eyes as tightly as possible and hold still despite her legs trembling with the urge to run. He was right; she needed to trust him. Law wasn’t asking as her captain, but as her doctor. He wouldn’t hurt her any more than Chopper would. He was trying to save her, and she needed to have faith that anything he did was for her own good.

“Room. Shambles.”

A strange sensation overcame her. It was almost like she was floating, and while she could still feel her individual body parts, it was…dull and disjointed, almost numbed, like when your foot falls asleep and you wiggle your toes.

Then came another odd feeling. The closest she could compare it to was what she imagined it would feel like to be a sugar cube slowly dissolving in a glass of water, but the heat and adrenaline slowly vanished, and bit by bit, her heart began to slow to a normal pace.

When she opened her eyes, she was sitting on the ground, the sweaty uniform in a neat pile by her leg. Law knelt before her, studying her face and body intently. His mouth was a hard line and his gold eyes cautious as he asked, “How are you feeling?”

“…cold.”

With a relieved chuckle, he pulled off his hoodie and carefully slipped it over her head. “Well, better than heat stroke and cardiac arrest.” He sighed, giving an apologetic frown. “I’m sorry the drug fucked you up so badly. I must have gotten the ratio off. I can’t even remember if I’d informed you of the potential side effects. At the very least, I shouldn’t have administered it when I was functioning on so little sleep—it was irresponsible of me as a doctor.”

Gratefully, Nami slipped her arms into the long sleeves, soaking in the residual body heat in the soft fabric. The sweatshirt was long enough to be a mini-dress on her, and she very nearly tucked her legs inside to block out the chilly air. Her skin was slick with sweat, and the cold air and stone beneath her was leeching the heat from her body. Now she understood why Drake had been so concerned about her lack of clothes. “It’s my own fault. I should have told you I was feeling weird. I just figured it was my body needing time to adapt and me being stressed about…stuff.”

The skin beneath the DEATH tattoos went white as Law gripped Kikoku harder. “No, it isn’t alright—I should have demanded a follow-up appointment to check how you were doing instead of putting my focus on fucking fertilizer. And I definitely should have noticed there was something wrong with you—you were literally having a panic attack in front of me, but I was too stubborn to acknowledge it.”

“Law, I know my body—I should have realized there was something wrong with me. And you were a little…distracted.”

“So, we’re both idiots, then?”

Nami couldn’t help the wry smile that tugged at her lips. “Guess so.” She glanced over at the jumpsuit. Part of her was nearly tempted to put it on due to how cold she suddenly felt, but one touch of the sweat-sodden fabric quickly changed her mind. “Look, I get that I don’t have much of a right to ask, but do I still have to wear this?”

Law frowned at the damp uniform. “Not until it’s been laundered and properly dried, at least. I’m taking you back to the ship regardless—I want to run some tests to be sure the birth control is completely out of your system, and you’re staying in the infirmary overnight for observation.”

“Yeah, makes sense,” she said sadly as the familiar blue aura overtook them. In a blink they were in the Polar Tang’s infirmary, their sudden appearance making Penguin jump from his place at the desk.

“Law! You found her!”

He tossed Kikoku to the first mate before hoisting Nami onto the examination table. “Yeah, but I’m going to need you to run some blood tests for me and fetch some clothes and toiletries from her room—she’s sleeping in here tonight for observation.”

Penguin nodded before rushing out the door, barely giving the navigator’s lack of uniform a second glance. Meanwhile, Law strode over to the cabinets, pulling out blankets, pillows, and towels. “What other symptoms have you been having?”

Rubbing her arms, Nami replied, “Nightmares and trouble sleeping, but that’s it.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep tonight?”

“I should.”

“Good, then I won’t give you a sedative. I’m not risking putting anything else in your bloodstream until I’m 100% sure what caused your reaction.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, “for removing the drug. And…not making me watch how you did it.” Law was sadistic and cruel, but that moment of compassion spoke volumes of how much he cared about a patient’s well-being. It was a fascinating juxtaposition—the doctor and the pirate. One that made her respect for him rise a little.

“You’re welcome. Thank you for trusting me.” He gave a small smirk as he handed her the supplies. “Assuming there are no lingering side effects I should be able to declare you well enough to go to dinner with me tomorrow night.”

Her head shot up in surprise. “You still want to do that? Even after I attacked your crew? After I tried to claw your eyes out?” Good God, she expected Luffy to be that forgiving, not the Surgeon of Death!

“You did it under the effects of a drug that I improperly administered—I have no one to blame but myself. Plus, I already made reservations.” At her disbelieving expression, he shrugged. “Honestly, Ikkaku, Shachi, and Bepo weren’t even mad; they were more scared something would happen to you.”  

“Really?”

“Really. I was the one who was pissed.”

Draping a blanket over her cold legs, she snorted. “Clearly. Would you have really made good on your threat?”

“Which one?”

Unconsciously, her hand fisted the blanket. “Chaining me to a desk and forcing me to make maps for you.”

“That’s the one you’re most worried about?” he asked, bewildered.

“Let’s just say it’s something that would have happened to me if Luffy hadn’t intervened.”

Law’s brow furrowed when she didn’t elaborate, and he crossed his arms in irritation. “You’re welcome to your secrets and privacy, Nami-ya, but considering how you very nearly clawed my eyes out over it, you’re going to have to give a better answer than that. I can’t know what will trigger you if you don’t tell me.”

“Maybe I’m not comfortable with someone like you knowing my weaknesses.” She shot him a glare. “You seemed to take a lot of creepy pleasure in threatening to put a collar on me, among other things.”

The brim of his hat cast a shadow across his eyes as he scowled. “I’m a sadistic bastard—I’ve never hidden this. But I was trying to scare you into compliance, not give you a panic attack.”

“Either way, it doesn’t exactly inspire me to trust you.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. In the harsh light of the infirmary, the circles under his eyes seemed even more pronounced. “Nami-ya, I’m sorry I went too far. I was angry and keyed up from dealing with Drake-ya.”

A scoff and a roll of her eyes was Nami’s immediate response. “Yeah, sure, ‘keyed up’. Personally, I would have gone with ‘horny as hell’.” She blushed slightly at the thought. Looking back on it, that moment had felt like something from one of her raunchier novels. And she really needed to not imagine what the two Supernovas would be like together. Who would top? Drake was certainly the larger man, but she had a hard time picturing Law being submissive, control freak that he was….

She shook herself from her musings as Law responded, removing his hat to run a hand through his dark hair, “We have…history. Generally when we meet, we either try to kill each other or fuck. In such close quarters and with you as a liability, I didn’t trust my chances if it came to a fight, so yeah, I fully leaned into the sexual tension.”

After the day she’d had, Nami should have been immune, but she couldn’t help but appreciate how hot he looked when he mussed his hair like that. Her blush deepened as she glanced away. “Well, you should have left me out of it.”

“Drake-ya’s shy with women. I knew he’d turn tail and run if I got you involved.”

Much as she wanted to, she couldn’t quite argue his logic, mostly because it was completely fucked up. “Bullshit; you were totally hoping for a threesome. You are seriously such a freak. Next time, just teleport us out of there.”

“He was talking about kidnapping you,” Law countered, leaning in and resting his hands on either side of her thighs. His breath tickled her face as he continued, “I needed to make sure he knew you were completely off-limits.”

Her eyes narrowed as she leaned back slightly. “I thought we established that I’m not your property?”

“Nami-ya, that’s the way it is—if you’re not strong enough to protect yourself, you’re the property of someone who was strong enough to claim you.” For a brief moment, his eyes softened, getting a faraway look as he lifted his hand to gently brush his knuckles across her jaw. “I know you hate it, but for now, accept that it’s the only way to protect you from the monsters of the world. Because believe me; there are men far worse than me who’d love to get their hands on you. Men who don’t have my limits.”

Her breath caught at his gentle action, and Law seemed to snap out of his reverie, quickly pulling away to grab her chart from the filing cabinet. “Penguin should be back soon to draw some blood and examine you. I need to tell the rest of the crew you’re back, safe and sound. You’re still confined to the ship until dinner tomorrow as punishment for worrying everyone.” Without looking at her, he tossed her chart on the desk and left, all but slamming the door behind him.

Wide, brown eyes stared at the metal barricade in shock. What was that about? Where had that flash of softness come from? Was he seriously running off because of a moment of…what? Kindness? Affection? Concern?

It seemed like every time she thought she had Trafalgar Law figured out, he had to do something to completely throw her.

Her thoughts were disturbed by a brisk knock on the door.

“Come in,” she called hesitantly.

Penguin stuck his head inside, little stuffed bird on his hat bobbing slightly. “You ok?”

Tugging at the black sleeves of Law’s sweatshirt, she sighed. “Fine, I guess. Managed to not get kidnapped by X Drake, thanks to your captain.”

“You ran into Drake? My condolences.”

“He was actually pretty nice up until he decided to take me hostage.”

Penguin chuckled as he tugged on a pair of latex gloves, grabbing her chart and the medical supplies he needed. “No, the condolences are for having to watch him and Law interact. It’s been going on since we were terrorizing the North Blue, back when Drake was tasked with bringing us down. The boss is not subtle when he hits on him, and Drake’s usually a coin flip between trying to kill him and pinning him against a wall. Makes things super uncomfortable for the rest of us.”

His look of exasperation drew an easy laugh from the redhead. “Yeah, you could cut the sexual tension with a knife. Law all but proposed a threesome.”

“Unfortunately, I believe it,” he groused as he rolled up the sleeve of the hoodie to expose Nami’s arm. Swabbing a patch of skin with a sterilized cotton ball, he continued, “I’m not sure if Drake brings out his kinky side or if he just did it to mess with you two. Probably both. Boss has a thing for gingers.”

“Then why doesn’t he hit on Shachi?”

“Oh, he did, briefly, when we were teens, but once he realized Shachi wasn’t into dudes, he backed off.”

“Dare I ask how Law found out Drake was interested?”

Penguin threw her a teasing wink. “You’re gonna have to get me seriously drunk to tell that story; I’ve worked damn hard to repress it.”

Nami had to laugh. Though he could be an awkward flirt and sometimes a bit too hard on his crewmates, Penguin was an easy guy to like. He was definitely the big brother of the ship, bullying Shachi and Bepo during downtime but quickly stepping up and making sure they were alright when things got serious.

His mouth turned down in a reluctant frown. “Look, I hate to bring down the mood, but as first mate, I have to know; why’d you run off?”

Averting her eyes, she nervously twisted the blanket in her hands. “What, Shachi didn’t tell you?”

Carefully inserting the syringe into her vein, he began drawing blood. “Figured I’d hear your side of the story before I made my judgement. Law gave me a quick run-down on how the medication gave you a panic attack, but something had to trigger it.”

“You mean besides nearly being cooked to death in that hideous jumpsuit?”

As he removed the needle and taped some gauze to her arm, he gave her a serious, but not unsympathetic, look. “Heat stroke can certainly cause a person to be unreasonable, but Bepo said you were yelling about not being ‘that monster’s property’. I know Law’s not the nicest guy around, especially when compared to Straw Hat, but he hasn’t done anything that would warrant that kind of reaction from you, has he?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing with genuine concern.

Blunt white teeth worried her lower lip. Part of her wanted to say he had—killing Harpin, threatening her, all the things he’d done to earn his reputation—but in reality, she’d seen much worse from other pirates, and he’d done enough halfway decent things—giving money to the jewelry seller, saving her from the Baron, his kindness towards his crew—that she couldn’t even bring herself to lie. “Well, no…”

“You don’t have to spill your life story, Nami; everybody has baggage and things that set them off. Everyone on board cares about you enough that we want you to feel happy and safe, but you need to trust us enough to tell us if we’ve done something to make you uncomfortable.”

She sighed. She may have been able to avoid this talk with Law, but it was clear Penguin wouldn’t be distracted by snarky jabs or petty fights. It was hard to argue with him, too, when it came from a genuine place of concern. And someone should know, right? At least a little bit? Enough to set some boundaries between her and the rest of the Heart Pirates. “Look, I admit, I was being a brat about the uniform, and Law’s stupid medication made things a hundred times worse, but when they started talking about tattooing your Jolly Roger on me…I snapped, ok?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not one of you. You guys aren’t bad—better than most pirates, at least—but you’re not my crew.”

“What’s wrong with getting along with your allies?” he asked as he labeled the vial of blood and jotted a few things onto her chart. Most might think he wasn’t really paying attention to her, but Nami knew by now it was his way of giving her a small bit of space; putting her at ease by not making her feel like she was being scrutinized and judged.

Smoothing the blanket over her legs, she replied, “Nothing. The problem is when they refer to Luffy as my ‘old captain’ and act like I defected from the Straw Hats. I’m here for Luffy’s sake, and in two years, I’m going to be his navigator in the New World. Nothing is going to change that.”

“You’re pretty loyal to him, huh?”

She caught his eye, and with a look that left no room for argument, stated, “If it weren’t for him, my entire village would be dead and I’d still be forced to work for my mother’s murderer. I owe him everything, Penguin. He didn’t recruit me—he freed me.”

The first mate nodded in understanding. “Kind of like how Law freed Jean Bart?”

“You could say that.” She rubbed the spot where Arlong’s mark once lay, fingers absently tracing the scars. “Look, I’m sorry I ran off and worried everyone. I’m really sorry I attacked them. But—I was forced to join a pirate crew when I was ten. They pinned me down and branded me with their Jolly Roger so the whole world would know who I belonged to. I can’t…”

He held up his hand to cut her off. “I get it. Even if it was just a joke, they triggered some bad memories. I’ll tell the crew to ease up on calling you a Heart Pirate, and absolutely no talk of tattooing against your will. But it’s still ok to consider you our shipmate, right? At least for now?”

She gave a watery smile, using Law’s sleeve to wipe moisture from her eyes. Funny, she hadn’t even realized tears had formed. “Yeah. I can live with that.”

Jotting a few more things on her chart, he handed her the fresh set of pajamas and one of the towels. “Good. I’ve gotta go run these tests; go grab a shower in the meantime. I’ll be back in an hour with dinner and to take your vitals, and then you’re going to get a good night’s sleep. Those circles under your eyes don’t make you any less hot, but this ship isn’t big enough for two sleep-deprived, stubborn pirates.”

Despite his light tone, Nami frowned. “You’re going to tell everyone about my past, aren’t you?”

A warm, gentle hand rested on her shoulder, covering up Arlong’s scar. “Not if you don’t want me to; it’s not my place. What you went through…I’m not gonna lie and say I don’t want to murder the bastards who did that to you.” Nami could feel the tension in his fingers and heard his teeth grit in anger. It was clear he’d connected the dots between the scars and her story. “I mean, to brand a fucking child…”

“I’m ok,” she said softly, as much to herself as Penguin. “Luffy freed me. It’ll never happen again.”

“Damn right it won’t.” Taking a deep breath, he pulled away, once more composing himself. “I’ll just tell the crew that you’ve been through some shit in your life, and because of it, you wouldn’t leave Straw Hat any more than we’d leave Law, so we should ease up. They’ll understand.”

“Thank you.”

He gave her hand a quick, comforting squeeze. “You really should tell Law all this, though. You’ve seen how intense he gets, but if he knows he’s opening old wounds, he’ll back off. Guy’s got demons even I’m not privy to, so he’ll respect there are certain lines he shouldn’t cross.”

With a smile, Nami returned the gesture. “You’re probably right. You really are everyone’s big brother around here, huh?”

“I’m the first mate; it’s my job to keep things running smoothly and take care of disputes between shipmates.”

“In that case, could you do me a favor?”

XXX

The next morning Nami was rested, physically feeling better than she had all week, but worried about facing the crew. Despite the affirmations that nobody was upset that she had run off, at least not once they learned it was in response to improperly administered medication, she still felt nervous. Penguin had told them to ease up on treating her like she was part of the crew, but was that a good thing? Would they now treat her like an enemy, or hold her at arm’s length? Was the easy camaraderie she’d started to share with them over, sacrificed for the sake of maintaining her status as a Straw Hat?

However, despite her nerves, she had no reason to skip out on breakfast in the galley. Law had stopped by the infirmary long enough to Scan her and give her a clean bill of health (and also steal back his sweatshirt) while Penguin had come through with her request.

“Think these’ll smooth things over?” she asked the first mate, holding up three wrapped gifts.

Penguin shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t think you even needed to go this far—none of them were really angry, and you didn’t injure anybody. But it can’t hurt…though I can’t promise Ikkaku won’t still make you suffer just a little bit; in a way, it shows she cares. It’s when she goes completely cold with a person that you know you’ve fucked up.”

“You know this from experience?”

“When we went to Amazon Lily and most of us went gaga over the women there. I think the fact that we acted like we’d never even seen a woman before really hurt her pride. She’s a tomboy, but she’s still a girl, you know? Probably sucks when every guy on board forgets that. Flat-out wouldn’t talk to anyone but Bepo for a week—hell, the silent treatment ended only a day before you got here!”

The mention of Amazon Lily piqued her interest. Hadn’t Law mentioned they’d been there once? And apparently, it hadn’t been too long before she’d arrived. “Wait, Bepo was the only one she’d talk to? Did Law act like a lovesick idiot, too?” It was hard to imagine, but if the women of the island were as beautiful as stories said, anything was possible.

“No, but he made a pretty stupid comment that rubbed salt in the wound.”

Though Nami was curious as to what Law could have possibly said to piss off Ikkaku, she was forced to push that mystery aside as they’d arrived at the galley.

“Ready?” Penguin asked, watching for any sign of distress from the navigator out of the corner of his eye. Though he honestly felt she had no reason to worry about his crew’s reaction, he wouldn’t force her to confront them if she wasn’t ready.

Taking a deep breath and adjusting the packages in her arms, she nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”

The door opened to reveal the rest of the crew sitting at the various tables, sipping coffee and chatting quietly, a few catching up on what they’d missed over the past few weeks from the pile of newspapers. Several of them looked up and greeted her with sleepy hellos, and Nami nodded in acknowledgement, though her attention was mostly focused on the fact that, though there was bacon and eggs and a few rolls, breakfast seemed to mostly consist of assorted fruits.

From his spot at the table Law glanced over his shoulder at her and chuckled at bemused expression. “Morning, Nami-ya. Care for an apple? Winter melon? Kiwi? Apricot? Pomegranate?”

Her brow furrowed at his casual greeting. After he’d disappeared last night, she’d assumed things would be awkward between them. His brisk visit that morning had only reinforced that belief, but here he was, making cheeky comments with that smug grin of his.

Before she could question him, or the fruit, Penguin lightly nudged her shoulder. “You didn’t hurt anybody, but that gust of yours did upend a few fruit stands, so Ikkaku had to buy it all to keep the vendors from causing a scene. You never know who might be a spy for Jinzo in this town, and from what I heard, you earned yourself a place on his shit list.”

“Which is another reason you’re not to leave the sub until dinner tonight,” Law added as he took a bite of a bright red apple. He met her gaze as he chewed before saying with a smirk, “That’s an order, by the way. One you won’t have a problem following, right?”

Swallowing down her instinct to argue with him, she nodded stiffly. “Right.” Taking a deep breath, she walked over to the table, bowing deeply as she held two of her packages out to Shachi and Bepo. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused you yesterday. Please take these as a sign of my sincerity.”

“You didn’t have to, Nami,” the bear said, twiddling his claws. Despite his fur, one could almost see a pink blush on his cheeks. “Penguin explained what we did to set you off, and we weren’t upset at you.”

“Did Law get mad at you for losing me, though?”

His ears drooped. “Well, a little, at least at first—”

“Then I owe you an apology. I promised wouldn’t do anything to get Law mad at you, and I broke that within four hours of making it. You’re getting an apology gift.”

“Well, to be fair, you said you’d never intentionally get me in trouble…”

“Just take it, Bepo,” Law said, taking another bite of his apple. “You managed to get the greediest pirate on the Grand Line to willingly spend money on you; if you keep arguing, she’ll change her mind and charge you double for it.”

Nami glared at him, though it faltered when he threw her a conspiratorial wink.

“Well, ok,” the Mink agreed, taking the parcel at his captain’s encouraging nod. Shachi followed suit, though he appeared more suspicious than apprehensive.

“When exactly did you have time to get these?” he asked, eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses, “Because I sure didn’t see you buy anything that could be for us yesterday.”

Nami pointed at the first mate. “I made Penguin do the actual purchasing, but I told him what to get and it was my money he used to buy them. I never left the ship.”

Mollified, Shachi ripped off the wrapping paper, laughing heartily at the orca-shaped hat. “Oh, this is fucking perfect!”

“She asked me to get the ugliest, dumbest hat I could find,” Penguin said with a snort. “The local hat shop practically paid me take it of their hands. It’s like it was made for you.”

“Yup, and now you have to suffer for it!” he crowed, tossing away the green and pink and pink hat and replacing it with the killer whale.

Meanwhile, Bepo happily tucked into the enormous salmon, fresh from the Grimm fish market. He spared a thumbs-up, declaring his approval of the gift, and Nami giggled. He was like Luffy, in a way; buy him lunch, and you were friends for life.

“Take it easy, Bepo; you’ll choke on a bone,” Ikkaku said from behind her. Nami turned to find the older woman shaking her head. “You really don’t have to do this; we’re all just glad that you’re safe. Honestly, I’d settle for an explanation,” she said with a meaningful frown, “but I also get opening up isn’t easy, especially to people who aren’t your crew.”

“Yeah, but given time, I might be willing to open up to a friend.” With a nervous smile, Nami held out a box. “I kind of owe you this anyway, so you’re taking it whether you like it or not.”

Without a word the engineer opened the box, eyes widening at the slinky, silver dress that glimmered back at her.

“Thanks, Nami,” Ikkaku said with a small smile. “This’ll be perfect for when we go out tonight.”

“You still wanna go?” Nami gave Law a sideways glance. “Assuming I’m even allowed.”

Ikkaku scoffed. “You’re my only female friend on this ship; like hell I’m giving that up over a little freak-out. And of course the captain’ll let you join me for Ladies Night,” she said, raising an eyebrow at the Dark Doctor in challenge. “Right, Boss?”

Law held up his hands in surrender. “So long as she stays with you and you’re both on your best behavior, I’ll allow it. After she has dinner with me.”

Beaming in triumph, Ikkaku bumped her hip into Nami’s. “See? We can do each other’s hair, and you can complain about whatever stupid thing Law says or does tonight over drinks.”

A bright grin lit up the redhead’s face. Penguin had been right—they really weren’t mad. “Sounds perfect. And I’ll pay you back for the fruit, too, since that was my fault.” Whatever the cost had been, it was well worth keeping Ikkaku’s friendship.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Just meant we got our produce shopping done a little early. But if you’re that worried,” she said as she strolled over to her table, grabbed a plain white box, and sauntered back, handing it over to Nami with a grin, “here. A peace offering of my own.”

Brow furrowing in confusion, Nami peeked in the box, only to immediately slam the lid back down, face a brilliant scarlet.

“You. Bitch,” she ground out. Ikkaku was so lucky she hadn’t really opened it in front of everyone—what was she thinking? Dear God, what if Law had seen what was inside?!

“Just a little something to help you out when those trashy novels can’t get the job done,” Ikkaku cackled, ducking away as the blushing thief attempted to smack her over the head. “And now we’re even!”

“What’s in it, Nami?” Shachi asked, shit-eating grin telling her he already knew. “What’s in the box?”

“A severed head,” she lied, glaring at him, white-knuckled grip crushing the corners of the package.

“Is it one of mine? I think I misplaced one,” Law chuckled from his seat. He reached for the box, grin stretching his face. “Let me check.”

“Hands off!” she snapped, yanking it away. “It’s none of your damn business!”

“Room.”

“Fuck you, Trafalgar!” she shrieked as the box vanished and reappeared on Law’s lap, replacing the apple he’d been munching on. Her attempt to retrieve the damming parcel was thwarted by Ikkaku grabbing her around the waist and spinning her around, laughing as she shrieked indignantly.

Opening the box, Law pulled out a pair of fuzzy black handcuffs. “Strangest looking head I’ve ever seen,” he said, twirling them around on one long finger. “Though full marks to whoever sculpted the dildo. Even got the veins right.”

The whole galley cackled as the blushing navigator buried her face in her hands, mortified. Part of her wanted to rip their tongues out, but another part accepted that she deserved this. Penguin hadn’t been kidding when he said she’d suffer, but she could also feel the mood lighten significantly.

“So, still up for Ladies Night after your dinner with the captain?” Ikkaku asked as she set her down, grin wide and unrelentingly smug as she threw an arm around her shoulders, playfully mussing her hair. “Or would Miss Straw Hat rather stay in and play with her new toys?”

Despite her humiliation, Nami felt a smile pull at her lips. “You’re an absolute bitch, Miss Heart Pirate, but yeah, I’m in. And for what you just put me through, you’re buying the first round.”

[coneygoil]

The Home We Built Together, part 22

Two young Vikings. An arranged marriage. Hiccup always wanted to win the girl of his dreams, but not like this. Now he and Astrid must learn to live together and maybe one day, learn to love…

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9| Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21

It was strange how an unexpected turn of events could bring two people closer together. When Hiccup imagined Astrid discovering he’d sided with the enemy, he hoped she’d understand and hear him out. He could hope all he wanted, but in all honesty, he expected her to be a ball full of rage and come slicing with her axe. Thankfully, the former happened and somehow, this crazy friendship with a dragon had brought him and his wife closer than ever.

Maybe it was the comradery of keeping an earthshaking secret between them. Maybe Astrid changing her attitude towards dragons had opened a door inside her to let Hiccup walk in further than he’d ever been. Whatever it was that had changed, Hiccup was enjoying every second of it.

He glanced at Astrid from the corner of his eye as they strolled through the village hand-in-hand. She insisted on walked him to the forge every morning instead of saying goodbye at the front door of their home. There were still traces of awkwardness between, unsure moments of bridled affections. Those moments were becoming less.

“Are you asking him today?” Astrid inquired as they approached the forge.

“Yeah.” They stopped at entrance their hands still intertwined. Hiccup sucked in a deep breath. “Are you ready for this if Gobber says yes?”

Astrid pressed her lips into a thin line, her gaze wandering before bringing it back to Hiccup’s face. “I’ve seen what you’ve accomplished, Hiccup. I know you can do this.” Her free hand cupped his shoulder, reassuringly. “We can do this.”

Hiccup beamed at her. Toothless trusted him. Astrid trusted him. Someone finally had faith in him.

Astrid tugged him to her, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Now, go to work!” She laughed, pushing him into the forge and jogged off.  

Hiccup knew he’d never tire of the lightness rising in his chest as he watched her leave.

“Lookit ye two lovebirds.”

Hiccup jumped. “Ahh! Gobber! What’re you doing watching on us?”

“Ah, don’t get your knickers tied in a knot, lad. It’s not like you two were trying to hide your affections. It’s good to see you two falling in love.”

Hiccup’s eyes bugged and he nearly choked on his own saliva. Love? He’d been in love with Astrid long before this whole marriage ever existed. At least, he thought he was in love, but he’d come to realize his affection during that season of his life was projected onto an idea of who he thought Astrid was. Strong. Level-headed. An aspiring warrior. Well-renowned for what she was doing right. It also helped that she was incredibly attractive.

The way he viewed her had changed. He knew he loved her still, though it wasn’t as clear and to the point anymore. But the real question was, did she love him?

It was obvious she’d developed a fondness for him. She wouldn’t subject her lips to touch his or allow him to hold her in their bed if she didn’t share the same affection. She enjoyed his company. He’d never heard the ring of her laughter until they’d grown close, and he wished to hear it for the rest of his (most likely, short) life. She seemed content, but was Astrid really falling in love with him? Entertaining the very thought sent Hiccup’s mind reeling.

Hiccup pushed aside the massive revelation and focused on the task at hand. “Hey Gobber, who takes care of feeding the training dragons?”

Tinking tap noises filled the forge as Gobber flattened out a door hinge. “You’re looking at him.”

Hiccup nodded, scanning through the inventory pile of the day. “Me and Astrid were discussing taking on more responsibilities and thought maybe…feeding the training dragons could be one of them.” He pulled out a shield that needed some bolts replaced. When he turned around, he nearly jumped out his skin at the sight of Gobber right behind him, smiling widely.

“Exceeding at dragon training, taking on responsibilities, proving that you could be Chief material.” Gobber wiped a single tear from his eye. “I knew you had it in you.”

“Uh…thanks—” this was turning out to be the most awkward conversation he’d ever had with Gobber, and that was saying a lot. Hiccup diverted off this unexpected (and uncomfortable) ride to get back to the point. “So, where do you get the food for the dragons?”

“I mostly use the rejected fish from the daily catches. They’re put in a barrel on the docks.”

“Wait, that’s all you feed them? Rejected fish?”

“Basically.”

“Why aren’t you feeding them the food they need?”

“What’s the point, lad? They’re going te die anyway sooner or later.”

A chill crept down Hiccup’s spine at Gobber’s haunting words. He knew the training dragons would be killed one day, whether during a training lesson or euthanized, but that known knowledge didn’t make it any less horrifying. His thoughts zeroed in on Toothless and how he’d taken care of him the last few weeks. Hiccup made sure the Night Fury had everything he needed, not only food but affection and companionship. Those poor dragons locked away in the cages were underfed, lonely, and afraid. Hiccup was determined to change that. He would save those dragons from their ultimate fate.

***

Toothless grumbled as he dived down to scoop up another mouthful of fish. Hiccup patted his friend’s neck. “Oh, come one, bud. You’re doing some extra fishing for a good cause.”

The next morning before the sun had awoken, Hiccup and Astrid left for the arena to begin training the dragons without the prying eyes of the other villagers. It was a risky move, training the dragons with a chance of others catching them. But the arena was a fair distance from the early morning activities of the village. Maybe they had a shot at this without getting caught.

Hiccup stood in the middle of the arena floor sweeping his gaze back and forth, lost in thought. He had to choose wisely which dragon to earn trust from first. The Gronkle was smaller than the rest of the dragons (besides the Terrible Terror), and maybe it could be easily won over by a pile of tasty rocks.

Something kept pulling Hiccup to the Monstrous Nightmare. If he could earn the trust of the most dangerous dragon then the other dragons would likely follow. Taking a deep breath, Hiccup squared his shoulders in determination and strode to the Nightmare’s cage.

“You’re starting with the Monstrous Nightmare?” the voice of reason floated from the back of him. He glanced over his shoulder to find Astrid looking positively aghast. “Do you have a death wish?”

“You trusted me this far, Astrid,” Hiccup pointed out.

Astrid stepped up to him and poked him in the chest. “You’re right, but don’t make me have to bring you back from the dead just so I can kill you for making me a widow.”

He snatched her finger and pushed it back towards her with a grin. “Have I told you I enjoy your heartwarming encouragement?”

Astrid’s eyes flew skywards. “Just go already.”

The playful banter had eased the nerves that were building in his stomach. Hiccup wondered if Astrid sassed him on purpose to help with that. He turned back to the present task: training the Monstrous Nightmare.

On the cage door was a smaller door that swung out. Hiccup unlatched the door and immediately ducked as a flaming stream shot through the opening.

“Hiccup!” Astrid yelled, ready to run to his aid.

“I’m okay!” He got back to his feet and grabbed a fish from the basket nearby. “Hey, big guy,” he greeted with an air of friendliness, “I’m not here to hurt you. I want to be your friend.”

Hiccup stuck the fish in view of the opening. When no more fiery blasts flew through, he peeked his head up. The Monstrous Nightmare stood several feet away, watching him with sharp, cautious eyes. His nostrils flared causing a dusty cloud to stir up at his front feet.

“Are you hungry?” Hiccup kept his tone light. He stuck the fish further into the opening. “Do you like cod? It’s much tastier than those sad little herrings you were being fed.”

The Nightmare snarled and shifted closer.

“There you go,” Hiccup encouraged, emphasizing the fish with a shake to draw the dragon nearer.

When the Nightmare had drawn close enough, Hiccup tossed the fish his way. The clamp of the dragon’s jaws echoed off the stone walls. Hiccup smiled when the Nightmare looked at him expectantly for more.

“Astrid, go raise the lever.”

Raising the lever meant releasing the dragon. Releasing the dragon meant risking being flame broiled.

The playful exchange from a few minutes earlier had completely fled as a tinge of worry shaded Astrid’s words. “Are you sure?”

He’d faced certain death at the mercy of a dragon who should have taken his life with the snap of the jaws. But he was still alive and whole and that dragon was considered his friend. Hiccup couldn’t guarantee that the Monstrous Nightmare would take the same path, but he had to try.

He met Astrid’s concerned gaze. “If this goes wrong, promise me you’ll take care of Toothless.”

“That’s not comforting, Hiccup.” The edge in her voice was evident, but Astrid wasn’t making an attempt to stop him. “Of course, I’ll take care of Toothless.” Squeezing his shoulder, she added, “But promise me, I won’t have to.”

He couldn’t. No simple promise could keep a fierce and angry dragon at bay. No promise could shield him from the fiery blasts Nightmares were known for. Hiccup offered a tight-lipped smile that couldn’t convince a fish it lived in water. Astrid moved to fulfil his request and in a minute’s time she was on the rocky ledge hovering over the lever.

Hiccup backed up at what he prayed was a safe distance. Filling his lungs with a calming breath, he nodded at Astrid. The massive wooden peg lifted, and the cage doors swung open to reveal the frightening dragon that was adequately named for haunting nightmares.  

The Monstrous Nightmare loomed ominously, puffing smoke, the orange eerie glow of its eyes staring right through Hiccup. Hiccup expected more of a reaction, for the dragon to rampage out on fire. But it remained calm as it glared sharply at him.

Hiccup had planned to take the affable approach; to show the Nightmare that he wanted to be his friend, throw in some lighthearted conversation like he had a minute ago when he offered the fish.

That planned changed the moment the cage door opened.

The Nightmare approached, it’s terrifying claws scraping the ground and head dipped into a strike position. Hiccup stayed planted in his spot a few feet away from the creature that could be his demise. The Nightmare’s hot breath blew over him.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Hiccup reassured, and with every fiber in his being, he spoke the words that he had resolved to in his mind for weeks, “I’m not one of them.”

The Nightmare gurgled curiously, blinking its orange eyes.

Hiccup held his palm out in front of him and with one decisive step, his skin made contact with dragon scales. He hadn’t realized how fast his heart had been pumping. His face split into a relieved and overjoyed smile as the dragon’s nose pressed firmer against his palm.

His gaze flicked up to find Astrid. Both hands covered her mouth, her eyes round in shock and awe. He nodded at her in silent agreement and she returned the gesture.

Their crazy plan to train dragons may work after all.

 tags: @martabm90 @chiefhiccstrid  @lauracalabresi  @drchee5e @celtictreemuffin 

[kisaell]

In the Scions we Trust

So, I’ve been plucking my way through grinding the scions to 80 for that cute little title; and in hopes that there is some bigger reward waiting down the line…

Anyway, I just wanted to note down some interesting quirks of each of the Scions since … It’s a lot of runs to just get them out of each dungeon. It’s a long post, and has some spoilers in it~

Let’s start with the Disaster Twins (who I love with my whole heart);

Alisaie plays like a Red Mage, naturally. However, she drops the OGDC aether blades in favour of more powerful Vercures; should the healer fall, or the WoL get too low she will not hesitate to yell out, “I’ll handle the healing!” and use Vercure 3 to keep people alive. It’s a decent heal too. We all know how extra she can be, so on the first and second boss of a dungeon, should you have Limit Break ready, she will use it on pull. However, should the Limit Break not be ready, and it dings in the middle of the boss; she tends to wait until after her enhanced melee + Verholy/Verflare combo before popping it, so any melee WoL taking her along can use that time to pop it for yourself.

I personally didn’t encounter her dying to mechanics. She is a little ballsy with her placement, opting to get in a little extra damage if she can, but she performed very well whenever I took her with.

Alphinaud plays like a Scholar, no matter what his job title says. He uses his Moonstone Carbuncle rather than a fairy, which makes sense given he isn’t a Nymian-trained Scholar like the WoL can be. Moonstone Carbuncle provides some DPS as it attacks enemies on its own; it also provides a nice Damage up buff every 2 mins (it lined up with my Dancer burst perfectly, everytime).

As for Alphinaud himself, he offers the standard Scholar kit with Adlo shields and Lustrates when people fall low; he also uses Broil 2 for DPS between heals. He is also a little more cautious than his sister, often making sure to step out of AoEs unless he is caught mid-cast; he is unafraid to shield himself and take an AoE should he need to. 

Now we have the Father-Daughter combo;

Thancred plays like a Gunbreaker, because he is one. When I ran dungeons with him, I had not yet touched Gunbreaker, so I didn’t notice anything too off with his playstyle. He is quick enough to establish enmity and will face groups away from people if he can. One unique skill I’ve found is his Quick Slash, which is an AoE attack that also blinds any enemy it hits; it’s not often he uses it, seems to be a mob count thing given I saw it most often in Dohn Mheg with the Wasps.

Personally, he provided the quintessential tank role to the Scions. He held the enemies still, he bosses to either the middle or towards the exit and held them there. My only issue was found in, again, the 73 dungeon… Where he often tanked the final boss in such a way that poor Alphinaud got frogged more than once.

Baby Ryne plays like a Rogue with extra bits, why did Dadcred let a 12 year old have knives? Aside from Y’sthola, Ryne is perhaps the most unique in her kit; not only does she have a 20 second vulnerability up debuff with her Trick Attack (that she can use on every pull) but her unique version of Dream within a Dream - Called Artful Edge - puts a damage done down debuff on the enemy too. And if that wasn’t enough, she has a ranged attack in the form of the spell Banish 3; she only tends to use this after a close-ranged AoE forces her to step away from enemies and bosses. Something that is also neat, is that her Hide isn’t broken by her auto-attacking.

Ryne is again, second only to Y’sthola in terms of how cautious she is. I have yet to see her get hit needlessly when she can avoid it; double AoEs like the Forgiven Apathy’s Earthshakers confound her (like most Trusts) but she will try to only get hit by one rather than both.

Dungeons with Ryne feel a lot faster given how often she can pop that Trick Attack; she’s even uses the Limit Break once or twice which also speeds things up. Another interesting note is that she carries Phoenix Downs to resurrect fallen party members, should there be no one else that can. She is cute baby with a lot of support 10/10 would take her in more dungeons.

Now for Smart Squad;

Boss Ass Bitch Y’shtola plays like a Black Mage, but she has White Mage elements spells to remind you that she’s better than you in every way.

As mentioned, Y’sthola has one of the most unique kits of the Scions as of this moment; all of her spells are followed by the suffix “-of the seventh dawn” and enjoy such elements as, “Tornado”, “Foul”, “Fire 4” and “Water 4”; which as someone who also plays White Mage from time to time, makes me cry. I’ve not noticed her ever use leylines, but she does seem to have a very short recast Triple Cast - which she also pop swiftcast with and just churns out damage when she wants.

In my runs, I noticed that Y’shtola did very well to avoid unnecessary damage; and as we were told, she does pop Triple Cast to make up for lost damage when she’s dancing around AoEs. However, unlike what we were told; I’ve seen Y’sthola pop the Limit Break about as often as Alisaie does, although she will wait until a lot longer in the fight before she uses it. I think she’s mad at me because I looked at her ass in that one quest; hero, and thus LB, privileges revoked. ;~;

Urianger, he doth provide the support of one well versed in the Sharlayan art of Astromancy. Which ultimately means he plays favorites with the cards and waxes poetically about killing shit. Urianger uses Diurnal Sect, which means regens! However, he never uses Aspected Helios; just the regular one. The loss of sheilds can be felt in dungeons; when tanking for Urianger, the tank busters hit a lot harder than when Alphi had my back; but that’s to be expected. What Urianger brings, however, is two unique spells. Gravity of the Seventh Dawn is an AoE attack that puts slow and heavy on everything hit; very very useful when you have a lot of enemies plucking away at your HP; and… Death of the Seventh Dawn, where he literally just straight up kills something, and to be fair, he mostly uses it at 10% on trash but still that’s really wild that he has that.

As for his performance… Oh boy; if you thought Alisaie got hit by avoidable shit, you’ve never taken Uri into Holminster. Our Man of the Verbose likes to get hit by everything, which is fine because he can just Essential Dignity himself back to full but still! At least we know where Alisaie gets it from, haha…. 

And for the final wrap up;

If anyone is interested in doing the hell grind of getting all the Trusts to 80; I’d HIGHLY recommend you break them into two groups and level on set with a DPS and the other with a Tank. That will get you all of them 80 in only two sweeps of the gauntlet. 

Your rewards for doing so are;

Each Trust at 80 unlocks their old (SB) outfit; with Ryne getting her blonde look back.

And once they’re all 80, you get the Achievement “Bound by Faith” and the title “Trusted Friend”

[burntotears]

Title: Meet Cute W/C: 1987 Summary: Ryan had always been looking for his place with a good crew and he knew how to take advantage of a situation. A/N: When criminal!husbands first meet, it isn’t mutual attraction. AO3 Link or read under the cut

Ryan’s first run-in with the Fake AH Crew went almost nothing like he’d expected it to. He’d been profiling them for a while, intrigued by the way they handled their business - notorious throughout Los Santos but still five ghosts with no names. They had resources and contacts that Ryan could sorely use and while being a lone wolf had some advantages, the luxury of someone watching your back was an undervalued commodity in this business.

So imagine his surprise when the infamous five men flagrantly blew into the bank (a bit over the top if Ryan was the judge), waving guns around while announcing they were there to rob the place. The bank that Ryan was currently standing in, a backpack full of money he’d just cleared from that very safe.

He gripped the straps tightly as he dropped to the floor with the other patrons. He tugged his cap a bit lower over his eyes and watched as the men scattered to different areas of the bank, every person performing his own job with efficiency. He needed a chance to cut and run. When they found out that the money was gone, he didn’t want to be there to catch the blow-back. He valued his life more than he admired these men.

Sneaking out of the side door was his best bet, but the man clad in a brown leather jacket and fitted jeans was casing the lobby with well-trained eyes behind a dark grey wolf mask. This wasn’t going to be easy, but even as the fear coursed through him, the excitement pumped through his veins alongside it. Ryan lived for challenges like these.

He made his movements slow, making sure to keep himself as inconspicuous as possible while he inched closer to the exit. His moment came when men started to shout from the back rooms - no doubt they had found the money missing. The wolf was temporarily distracted which allowed Ryan to fully slip from view and into the dark alley. He was pleasantly surprised when he felt a gun press into his back just as he was rounding the corner to the backside of the bank. At least they lived up to their names.

“Get against the wall,” the voice commanded and he did as he was told. The man ripped the backpack from his shoulder and yanked the zipper open, a low whistle escaping his mouth. “Well, well… seems someone already did our job for us.”

Ryan heard the quiet crackle of a comm in the other man’s ear, but he still couldn’t see who had caught him. The curiosity was killing him, but it seeped out quickly with his consciousness when he was hit over the head with something. The last thing he heard was the man saying, “got a problem” before he blacked out completely.

“You actually think we should just let him go?” an incredulous voice admonished, ripping Ryan out of the cold dark and back into reality. His hands were bound behind him, unsurprisingly, and the room was too bright for his eyes to focus immediately.

“I didn’t say that,” a woman’s voice responded. “I said we have no reason to kill him just because he outsmarted us.”

“Outsmarted is a bit much. Luck and convenience seem more appropriate here.”

Someone laughed derisively. “There’s no fucking way he managed that by being in the right place at the right time.”

When his eyes finally adjusted to the light, Ryan saw the five men standing around a table where his backpack sat like a trophy. He was bound to a chair at the head of the table like some fucked up guest of honor.

“Morning, sunshine,” a shorter man clad in gaudy purple and orange said, tapping Ryan on the shoulder with a baseball bat. “We were just talking about you.”

“I’m flattered,” Ryan replied, finding his voice was hoarse from disuse. “I certainly hope my good looks were the focal point of the conversation.”

“I don’t like this fuckwad.” Ryan’s eyes swiveled to meet a set of light brown eyes that frowned at him from behind a wolf mask. A pile of brown curls poked out atop the mask and he had the stupidly dopey thought of how he liked curly hair. He was probably drugged.

“You don’t like anybody, boi,” a man with a British accent responded, surprising Ryan. He was learning more about these men in five minutes than he had in the two years he’d followed their crew.

There was no way they were going to let him live.

“I can understand your current antipathy. After all, I did manage to pull off your heist single-handed and in mere moments before you. That would make anyone a bit irritable.” His self preservation had not kicked in yet, it seemed.

The wolf mask mimed slapping him on the head, his eyes betraying a fiery fury that Ryan had only ever seen staring back at him in a mirror.

“Chill, Mogar. He’s cocky, sure, but he’s also right. We shouldn’t have been outplayed by one dude with the fashion sense of a middle-aged dad in the suburbs.”

Ryan frowned. “There’s really no reason to make such low blows, even in a situation such as this. I’ll have you know that when I’m not undercover as a normal civilian bank-robber, I am actually a nefariously well-known criminal in Los Santos.”

A few of them started to laugh. He shouldn’t have been too surprised at that reaction. He probably seemed terribly non-threatening in his faded jeans and t-shirt, baseball cap, and long blond hair pulled back into a quintessential I.T. ponytail.

“What? You don’t believe me?” he looked at each masked man in turn. If he told them the truth, they might just kill him. If he didn’t, they might just kill him. His options weren’t looking stellar at the moment. He bulked up his shoulders and summoned all the confidence he could muster. “Ok, here’s what is going to happen. I will tell you who I am, you’ll be considerably impressed, then you’ll invite me to join your crew. Call it a trial run? If I don’t prove to be useful then you can kill me and you won’t have to worry about me ever again. What do you think?”

“Is this tosser serious?” the Brit laughed, though he was only one of two who did. He looked around in surprise. “Uh… you’re not considering this, are you?”

The female shrugged. “I am. He outplayed us. I want to know how.”

The man in formal attire spoke up. “How about you tell us who you are first and then we’ll consider whether you get to live or not.”

Ryan shrugged. “I feel like my chances aren’t great in any scenario here, so it’s best to play to my strengths. I’m Vagabond.”

There was a wolf whistle, a laugh, and a cough of surprise. “Bullshit!” the shortest man blurted out, shaking his head. “He’s fucking full of it!”

The man in the wolf mask was stock still and serious as he continued to stare Ryan down. “He’s telling the truth. It isn’t like lying would keep him alive longer.” He was no fool, Ryan would give him that.

“Okay, and what do you gain by joining us?” the formal man asked.

“Resources, power, connections, reliability, a name for myself. The list is fairly extensive.”

“You’ve already made a name for yourself as being fucking insane. How will that benefit us?” the woman asked.

“How will it not? I’m known as being insane because I will do anything to get the job done. I’ve risked my own life for it. How is that not an asset?”

The wolf mask looked personally offended by the statement, but Ryan wasn’t certain why. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut over by the suited gentleman. “Okay, Vagabond, we’re going to convene to another room to discuss this. You sit tight.”

Ryan snorted in contempt. “I won’t go anywhere.”

He sat there in that chair for at least thirty minutes before they returned. When they entered the room again, they were maskless. Ryan stood up immediately, his bindings falling to the floor uselessly and the blond with the British accent threw his hands into the air. “You’re having a laugh!”

The woman laughed in earnest, though, and extended her hand to him. “I’m Jack. You could call me the babysitter around here.”

“Nice to meet you, Jack. I’m Ryan.” He took her hand in a firm shake with no surprise when she gripped his hand firmly.

A man with a mean looking mustache approached him next. “Geoff. I tell everyone what to do.”

Next was the short man in the appalling assortment of orange and purple. “Jeremy. It’s cool to meet you, Vagabond. I’m just muscle really.”

Ryan nodded and turned his attention to the Brit. “How did you even?” he asked, still looking at the bindings on the floor. “I’m Gav. I make everyone else look good.”

“Right.” The only person who hadn’t stepped up to greet him was the brunette with the wild curls. He was perched against the wall with his arms crossed, staring Ryan down petulantly. The fullness of his face contradicted the fire that lived in his eyes.

“This prat is Michael, my boi. He’s a bit grumpy.”

“Shut it, Gavin,” Michael responded, though his eyes were still trained on Ryan.

“Alright then,” Geoff clapped his hands and leaned on the table. “Now that the introductions are out of the way, we want to know how you pulled off that money grab.”

Ryan didn’t make it two steps from the high rise apartment complex before he was being shoved up against the concrete wall by a forceful arm. He lifted his hands up in surrender, looking at Michael in earnest. Whatever problem Michael had with him was apparently private and he was interested to hear about it.

“Look, Haywood. Just because you’ve got the rest of them eating out of the palm of your hand doesn’t mean that I’m fooled.” The fire behind Michael’s gaze had returned and Ryan found he was unable to tear his eyes away from it. This man was untethered in a way that sent heat broiling inside Ryan’s chest. He wanted to know more.

“And what about me is it that you think you know better?” Ryan replied steady, though he might have betrayed his curiosity.

Michael eyed him with suspicion, but continued. “You with your gaudy vocabulary and your overblown ego. You’re a narcissistic, overconfident, deranged asshole who is only looking out for himself. That’s not what this crew is about. We’re a family. And nobody fucks with my family, Vagabond.” The brunette pressed his forearm more harshly into Ryan’s chest for emphasis. “Do we understand each other?”

Ryan nodded slowly even as his heart began to beat like a drum in his chest. Michael was threatening him, but he felt exhilarated by it. “You never hesitate and while it might look like you’re just reckless, you actually have a fire inside of you that you haven’t been able to satiate. Your hate is cruel, but your love is even more ruthless.” He thought a moment before adding, “You’re an enigma.”

Michael’s jaw dropped slowly as Ryan spoke about him before he finally pushed hard against the man’s chest and backed away. “Who the fuck are you to tell me who I am? Stay outta my way, Haywood. I mean it.” The shorter man walked off without a second glance.

“I know you do. Goodnight, Michael,” he responded, still pressed against the cool concrete. He banged his head back lightly, waiting for his heart to settle to a normal rhythm again. “Fuck,” he breathed quietly.

This was exactly where he was supposed to be and he would be damned if anything separated him from the Fake AH Crew now.

[felicityb-reviews]

‘90s 5HINee - Feature Spotlight

Hello, babies!! It's Jace (aka Felicity B), and it's our first SHINee Feature Spotlight!! I am so excited to be doing this, because SHINee was literally the second group that I got super attached to (EXO being the first). And, believe it or not, but Jonghyun was my first bias before I fell into Jinki hell. I'm a sucker for the soft leaders, sis...

Era Spotlight

So!! Today's era that we will be pulling songs from is '90s 5HINee!! I wanted to do this era first, because I absolutely love everything about '90s music. I love Funk, I love RnB, I love New Jack Swing, I love Deep House, I love it all!! And SHINee me something of everything from that era. Once again, these Feature Spotlights are not a Best Of™ list or even my favorites from the albums, necessarily, they're songs I think would fit well together. So no getting mad if your fave isn't here!!

Odd Eye (Odd)

Oh, Odd Eye...

I really wanted to avoid the Fan Favorites™ to the best of my ability (which is kind of impossible, considering how beloved this album is), but I simply couldn't do that with Odd Eye. Yes, everyone and their mother fucking loves Odd Eye, but this song represents the best parts of Odd, to me.

Odd Eye is smoky. She's smouldering, sis. She's SHINee at their sexiest. Odd Eye's beat doesn't really do much, but that's exactly what the doctor ordered. The beat is basic, but it gives SHINee the chance to just... SHINE!! I absolutely had to start this list off with Odd Eye, because a) this is a modern interpretation of a '90s RnB midtempo if I'd ever heard one and b) this song just really shows that SHINee are That Group™, sis. Don't get me wrong, I love when SHINee flame broil my wig with all the bells and whistles, but they are just as arresting and breathtaking as a group without them. When will your faves ever be this iconic?!?!?!?

SHIFT (1of1)

See... I really set myself up for failure here, because I said I was trying to avoid the Fan Favorites™, but two songs in and I've already got two in a row, so... WHAT'S THE TRUTH,SIS?!?!?!!

SHIFT is a banger, baby. SHIFT is Deep House at its finest, baby. Play this song around A N Y O N E, and they'd jam/bop. EVEN JUST A LIL!! SHIFT is that powerful, babe.

The instrumentation in this song is just so lush, sis. I wouldn't call the texture of this song sweet (because we associate sweet textures in music with warmth), but it's similar. Everything about this song is just so easy on ears. The intro is, easily, my favorite part of SHIFT. That arpeggio with the e.piano and harmonies on top?!?!?!

It's fucking magical.

The harmonies in this song are unreal. SHINee showed up to the studio with their A-game the day they recorded this. No other group harmonizes like SHINee does in their music (most groups treat harmonizing like a cute trick for concerts), but they really outdid themselves this time around.

So Amazing (1of1)

So Amazing (the special track that isn't really that special) is a New Jack Swing song with lots of funky elements, which is right up SHINee's ally. Idk why it took SM so long to throw a NJS song at SHINee with 1of1 because they fuckin' killed that shit (I will have nothing of you losers saying it sounds too much like a typical NJS track, that's the fucking point of a throwback), but better late than never, sis.

So Amazing is really nice. It's got a really bright texture, but it's also really warm and easy on the ears. These types of uptempos are usually cheesy af, but a) that's the '90s babe and b) that makes So Amazing a great mood lifter. I can play this on those days that aren't "cry in bed all day", but aren't all that good, either. Plus, I love imagining all the silly dances the SHINee members did to the dance break, cause that horn section is so fun and playful.

Savior (Married to the Music)

It's another Deep House song!! But not quite. She's more Funk n RnB than Deep House, but shh... She's still Deep House in my heart.

The first time I heard Savior, I was little thrown off by the chorus. They sound like they're shouting in unison over the beat, but it's not as grating as you'd think it'd be. It's actually a whole lotta fun, if you ask me. And this would be such a great song to perform in concert, because it's high energy af. I wouldn't say this chorus is euphoric (Euphoric EDM usually has a note of sadness in the brightness of it all), but I wanna jump around to it like it is. And that's really all that matters, sis.

Romance (Odd)

Part of me feels like someone is going to be mad at this, but their wig is dusty. So I don't care

Romance is a song that I was hugely let down by on first listen. It, obviously, grew on me (this bitch grew on me like a fucking rash), but Ms Romance sounded way cooler in teaser form. The chorus was annoyingly bright and chipper, Minho's rapping was so off putting (which, to be fair, syncopated rapping is hard for most rappers to pull off, so that was just me being a dick), and the whole thing just felt far too long for how flat sounding it was.

I was not a fan, kids.

But Romance, like the album it was pulled from, grows on you. It seems like too much at first, but the more you listen to it, the more you start to Get It™. This isn't one of my favorite songs from the album, but it's one that I look forward to listening to.

Love Sick (Odd)

Oh my God, Love Sick!! Odd Eye and Love Sick are my top two favorite tracks from Odd, and 90% of the reason I held onto Odd for as long as I did. Odd was not an album I liked on first impact. But it kind of hit that this album couldn't be as bad as I made it out to be, because it has quite a few of my top tier SHINee faves. So me and Odd?!?! We cool now. We fucks with each other.

And yes, I do realize Ms Love Sick is another Fan Favorite™, but she's a damn good song. Y'all got me fucked up if you thought I wasn't adding this.

How does one describe Love Sick?!?!! Firstly, let's discuss these harmonies, baby. Love Sick was always gonna be a favorite of mine (that Groove™, sis), but these fucking harmonies take it to the next level. Y'all, SHINee did not have to snap the way they did on the refrain of this song, but they snatched every single follicle of hair from my wig and used it as kindling for the SM Annual Bonfire. I felt like I was floating the first time I heard this song. Love Sick would have been amazing without these over the top harmonies, but once again, SHINee are not content to do just the bare minimum.

As a whole, Love Sick is bouncy, fun, and there's a bit of melancholy there (the song is about unrequited love, after all), but it's just so Good!!

Don't Stop (1of1)

SHINee decided to get Grown n Sexy™ for the kids, y'all!! Got a bitch outchea trynna find a mans just to slow grind on.

But y'all not trynna hear alladat.

Don't Stop is Love Motion's spiritual cousin. They're more alike in vibes than actual sound (BEG being the Grown n Sexy™ idol group), but I mean... if you ever needed a part two to seduce your mans, baby.

Don't Stop, like Odd Eye, is a '90s RnB midtempo if I'd ever heard one. SHINee's vocal here is far more restrained than it was on Odd Eye (they actually let the beat do some of the work), but I like that. This song is a lot more subtle than Odd Eye is. And how does one even describe the beat?!?! I'm not sure that syncopated really does it justice, but it's not something you hear a lot in K-Pop. One complaint I have about this song is that I wished Key's rap break was just an instrumental section. I don't dislike it to the point where it turns me off from the song, I just think it would've been cool to do a dance break there.

Feel Good (1of1)

Feel Good is appropriately named, because she makes a bitch feel real good. Don't let her trick you with the soft intro and first verse, because the bulk of the song is Groovy™ af, baby. You could dance to this, but I'd prefer to just bop to the beat and make stank faces at the appropriate times.

The rap bits in Feel Good, unlike Don't Stop, are Just Right™. I have very much enjoy Minho's evolution as a vocalist *and* a rapper. Rapping in K-Pop is a concept I've just had to get used to cause so many of these idol rappers are not good by any stretch of the imagination. But if you can give me something that's fun, I've learned to roll with it. I liked Jongin as a rapper (before he became Vocalist Kai™), because he was very aware of the fact that that was not his calling in life, but he made it fun. And Minho gives me a fun verse here. Issa highlight.

Rescue (1and1)

If ballads are not your thing, then I wouldn't be surprised if you skipped the entirety of the 1and1 repackage (and therefore, Rescue). Which is a shame, because SHINee have some of the best ballads in K-Pop, but quite understandable.

But Ms Rescue is not much of a ballad, fam. The intro/first verse might trick one into thinking this isn't gonna be much of a song, but just like Feel Good, the song *really* starts with the chorus. And lemme tell you something - the chorus is F I R E!! You've got a nice little beat going with the prechorus, yes, but the chorus takes it to the Next Level™, sis. You've got thumping 808s, a badass chord progression, and the SHINee Boys™ givin' us That Good Good™. The chord progression is a particular favorite of mine, because it's got this gritty, almost anxious feeling to it. It's perfect for this song.

The first time I listened to Rescue, I made the stankest of faces. This song is just *so* fucking '90s, and it's one of my favorites from the repackage.

Alive (Odd)

So on top of giving us Grown n Sexy™ tracks for seducing bae into our lairs (or den of iniquity, if that's what you prefer), SHINee has also provided us with Alive. A song for... Well, do I really have to say it?!?!?!

Doing the frickle frackle!!

Alive is aggressive, kids. Like, EXO's MAMA aggressive. I was kind of thrown off by it on first listen, which is funny considering how I was very much into Everybody (or more specifically, Jinki with blonde hair and eyeliner singing Everybody). This is the type of song I picture boy bands practicing the stomp routines they receive from the National Boy Band Assembly® upon completion of their lineup.

Because boy bands sho' do love they over the top stomp routines, baby.

Alive starts out with a very loud, very in your face drum pattern that almost sounds like a giant making his way through the hills at night. Then, the verse comes crashing in with equally as loud and frenetic synths and The SHINee Boys™ matching the aggressiveness laid out by beat with a whole lotta attitude. And then, my favorite part of the song, the chorus. Out goes the Kill Bill Sirens frenetic synths and in come the RnB chords and harmonies. Cause God Knows™ these boys can't make a song without some killer harmonies. Bless the Lord almighty.

Wish Upon a Star (1and1)

This song always makes me wanna cry. I still love it, tho. Top 10 favorite ballads.

Wish Upon a Star is a soft classical ballad, if I've ever heard one. But The SHINee Boys™ sure know how to dress these up Just Right™ to make them worth your while. Wish Upon a Star sounds like it belongs in a Disney movie. It's soft and wistful, but sweet in texture, at the same time. I'm not exactly stoked for the SHINee World V concerts that are happening in February, but I hope they sing this song for Jonghyun. It'd be perfect for him.

This song always makes me so happy when I listen to it (despite always making me wanna cry my eyes out), because it really just shows how far SHINee have come as individuals and a band. They've always worked so hard to improve and comeback stronger, and this song is the perfect representation of that. 1and1 was the perfect time to release this song, because that era represents SHINee at their best, to me. Listening to this song makes me really happy, despite how sad I am.

Chocolate (Married to the Music)

Because no SHINee playlist (or album, really) is comeplete without a gay up straight up Funk track. Because SHINee are the K-Pop Kings of Funk. I will accept no other opinions about this.

Chocolate is Funk for the kids. The Actual Kids™, that is. Chocolate gives us those Funky elements we all know and love, but with a modern twist. The verses have an almost dissonant quality to them with how syncopated and off kilter the rhythm track is. I'm not gonna lie, it's definitely something you gotta get used to. But when that chorus/refrain rolls up on you, you're definitely gonna be happy you stuck with Chocolate. As typical with any SHINee song, there's lots and lots of harmonies. SHINee sees these groups only doing 5ths, and is like, "Oh no ma'am, not our gay extra asses".

Chocolate is, to be quite honest, SHINee on auto-pilot. It's SHINee doing what SHINee does best, and that's why we fucks with ha. I've never disliked a Funk song from SHINee, and I never will. These SHINee Boys™ have an understanding about Funk, and know how to make Funk songs Just Right™. It's always a pleasure to hear them make songs like these, especially when they give us a modern twist to go along with it.

Alright guys, that's it for today's list!! Tune in next week for my next Feature Spotlight, featuring songs from SHINee's experimental era. And don't forget to tune in on Wednesday to my Review Roundup of this week's releases!!

Love you guys.

[griffinsandpeacocks]

GET UP & WRITE! Section 1: “You’ve caught me at a really bad time.”

Warning: SMUT AHEAD. Smut between two elves and a human, all three are males. DO NOT CONTINUE TO THE END IF THAT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. There’s plenty of ques to tell you when it’ll happen so you can read it till then or just not if you don’t want to.

The Archdeamon was now crippled and hiding behind hoards of darkspawn and  Vararis was putting the last reserves of his strength into getting through.

“Vararis!” Alistair shouts and the elf jumps back away from an attack but puts his back to Alistair’s, somewhere in the mess Wynne was warding and Zevran was keeping the spawn away from her. Hopefully. 

“Yeah?” The elf asks panting as they push out a slight space around them. Alistair can’t take it it’s been just eating him on the inside. The elf had hit on him he’d blushing and embarrassed had explained he wasn’t interested and he’d only come to regret letting the elf go. Now they could both die and he needed to let it out. 

“I love you!” Alistair blurts as he shield bashed a couple monsters back and Vararis growls.

“You’ve caught me at a really bad time.” He snarls as he ducks down and slams a dagger through one darkspawn’s jaw and in to it’s brain. Vararis knows thanks to having slept with Morrigan there was only one small issue to deal with. That was the Archdemon. If he could get to the damn thing and kill it with both of them alive. Then they could talk about Alistair stepping out of the closet. Alistair trips and Vararis spins grabs the human by his belt and pulls him back as a darkspawn swing at him. He leans up.

“Later, now is not the time.” He says softly before turning back and splinting a darkspawn’s arm almost in half he turns and rips open it’s throat with his other blade before rushing past them throwing his knives into two generals trying to stop him that had been too far to clear earlier he pulls out his long sword and slides ripping open the beast’s throat he stands and turns and brings it down through it’s eye to kill it. 

It was horrendously painful. He felt it rush through him and screamed as it felt as if he were being burned from the inside out. Then in a sudden flash it was gone he felt cold and a loud ringing was in his ears. The light was blinding he stumbles back and away his balance thrown as he can’t see much and his ears are currently trying to rip themselves off. 

Someone grabs him and pushes him to sit he tries to focus but can’t really. There’s garbling behind the ringing in his ears. Was someone trying to talk with him? A soft tingling takes over and his vision clears slowly he can see green light and realizes at some point he must have flopped onto his back he’s staring up at two worried faces and Wynne’s look of concentration and concern. He can’t really hear what’s being said still. Then lips are on his and he blinks in shock because it’s not Zevran. It’s another blond entirely. 

“So... Do I get my turn?” Zevran jokes and Vararis can’t he laughs breaking the kiss even as everything aches and hurts he’s laughing. Alistair is stuttering and Vararis sits up and smiles shaking all over.

“Don’t Alistair... ‘S fine...” He croaks and looks to Zevran grinning because they’re all alive. They survived. The crow smiles back at him and gestures him to Alistair but the elf frowns suddenly sad. Would he have to chose... He adored Alistair still, it was true... But he’d come to adore Zevran just as much. 

“Let’s go help the other’s we still have to flush out the stragglers.” Vararis says weakly voice still trashed from screaming not too long before. Wynne huffs and shoves him back on his ass when he tries to stand.

“Oh no you are not.” She says and the elf shuts up and obediently sits through her making sure he is as healed as he can be given everything they’ve all been through. He has learned, listen to Wynne or you will listen to her stick ringing in your ears. 

When they’re back in the Arl’s home in Denerim Vararis calls Alistair and Zevran to his room, well Zevran was already there but that was beside the point. He swallows nervously as Alistair walks in. The man had a short beard he’d gotten control of and trimmed up and it looked nice. Given his strawberry blond hair leaning closer to strawberry he just looked like the rugged warrior King Fereldan would need. Varais clears his throat as he’s just sitting on his bed near the headboard Zevran sit’s at the foot of the bed and Alistair is hovering by the door like their both dragons ready to broil him and devour his heart. 

“So...” Alistair starts and Vararis plucks up enough courage to speak. 

“Come sit with us.” He says patting his bed, Wynne had had his hand’s bandaged, they’d been seared across the palms and he was still healing. He winced as Alistair sat down. He’ rubs his hands together a bit and sighs.

“I asked you to come because we three need to talk. When you turned me down I hurt but I understood, you just weren’t that way so it was understandable, no hard feelings. I didn’t stop caring but I wasn’t going to hold a torch. I had my turn at that when I was younger, I wasn’t doing it again. I’ve grown to care deeply for Zevran. We already discussed somethings before you got here. I won’t leave him behind. I don’t hate myself for my heritage and that branches to Zevran I won’t leave him for a human not even for a King. However,” Vararis raised his hand to silence Alistair before he could drown himself in any stupid or otherwise comments, “I still care for you as I said. I am of the mindset, and Zevran is too, that if this is to work, we’d need you to first be okay with not just having me but Zevran as well in a romantic relationship or at least you to understand I’d be moving between you two, and second, I’m not just yours but Zevran’s as well.” Vararis says calmly and softly. Alistair nods slowly and is blushing something fierce.

“So I would.. Well... Erm...” Alistair is embarrassed but both elves wait though Zevran’s smirking and looks ready to pounce on the poor chantry boy. Varais reaches out to him and squeezes his hands softly wincing at the pressure.

“Go on Alistair if you’ve questions or concerns voice them now.” Vararis says he needs to know what Alistair’s concerns are and if the now soon to be King’s questions were bound to be ones that would need answers before any arrangement was made. 

“How would I... I don’t even know what I’d do for one person let alone two. I was training since I was shipped off From Redcliff. I have no idea what I’m doing.” Alistair sighs and Vararis laughs softly. and leans forward.

“What does this say?” He asks tapping above the human’s heart. Alistair sighs and closed his eyes and Zevran moves to Vararis and curls around him from behind resting his chin on his shoulder to watch the human.

“Ah... I think that I can love someone who loved you when I was being stupid?” Alistair asks opening his eyes and Vararis smiles and laughs softly.

“You won’t have to, Zevran would be teasing you right now if I hadn’t ask he restrain himself until we know where you stand. Basically this has roughly three ways it can work, I bounce between you and Zevran, I won’t mind I’m Dalish moving around is in my blood, You can also just take a deep breath and accept two elves into your life, or, and this is one I would like to avoid, we leave Zevran and I wander off after the coronation and you find another.” Vararis sighs and the human shakes his head looking mildly distressed.

“I don’t want to deal with others when... You’ve... I was scared the whole battle I was going to loose you. I don’t want you to leave.” Alistair says voice soft and Vararis smiles gently.

“Then I’ll stay but I’m an elf, so even if we are not together, Alistair you think the other humans here in power will keep being polite when half their staff are elves they treat like garbage? I will stay but I can’t promise I’ll stay forever. I don’t take any disrespect lightly, and sooner or later it will result in me beating the crap out of a mouthy noble bastard.” Vararis says softly. Alistair nods and gently takes the elf’s hands to look at his palms wrapped in bandages. If Fereldan couldn’t see it was through the blood and sweat of an elf that they were still alive then he’d make sure to loudly voice it every time it came up.

“Beat them, I’ll keep you from any consequence.” He says still looking at the bandages. Zevran sighs and shakes his head.

“He won’t need the protection of the crown, if they’re smart and you show off who you care about he’ll be safe.” Zevran says and Alistair looks up.

“You know about nobility sabotage and that... So if I show I care they’d leave you both alone?” Alistair asks and Zevran blinks in shock. Vararis smiles and nods.

“If they’re smart. After all if Vararis is a royal consort of some variety messing with him angers you which would not get them far in court. Even Fereldan should see those rules, I’d assume nothing flashy like Orlais or Antiva but close enough.” Zevran says softly Vararis nods and smiles softly as he can see the two building bridges out of the ropes they’ve strung between them over the trip to stop the Blight.

“No it’s both or neither. Messing with either of you in any way would anger me. You were there for both of us through all of this.” Alistair sighs and Zevran smiles softly.

“Ah, was I? Must have been the view as you two led us all across Fereldan.” He teases and Vararis laughs and sighs.

“Wynne will be coming soon to take care of some lingering burns. If you want to stay.” He says and as Wynne does come in Zevran and Alistair move to the foot of the bed as Vararis stands and let’s Wynne dote on him undoing bandages and seeing how heavily the battle had worn the elf as scars Alistair has and hasn’t seen scatter over the elf like a war-scape on his skin. The Vallisan is warped in some places even broken. Vararis smiles as Wynne tells him to rest and not push himself, there was a moment of calm he should use it to it’s fullest and she did give a look to the two watching a found smile as she leaves.

“So, how shall we celebrate?” Zevran purrs and Vararis laughs. He still only has pants and is wrapping his hands and forearms again.

“Depends, Alistair...?” He asks still focused on the wraps. Alistair looks at Zevran and silently cocks his head the other Warden’s way grinning and the other elf’s yes light up amused as they stand and circle him. Alistair takes the bandage finishing it around the elf’s arm.

“I can think of a few ways to celebrate. My bed’s bigger though.” He grins and the elves laugh and Vararis leans up and gives Alistair a chaste kiss.

“Alright... Let’s go I just need to finish wrapping my other hand ad arm.” He says and Zevran takes the other bandage he and Alistair wrapping the limb by working in tandem. Then the human takes the other Warden by the hand and leads them to his rooms. They go through the halls many salute in shock and respect at seeing the three tease and flirt back and forth Alistair blushes but smiles. Vararis even sings in elvish as he pivots around the two. When they get there Alistair goes to a foot locker and pulls out a rose and set’s it aside not sure how to handle it at this point as he doesn’t know what to do as he’s two people to show affection to not just the one. Vararis hugs him and looks at the flower.

“It’s very well kept for however long you’ve held onto it. It’s still quite beautiful.” He says and Alistair smiles.

“I saw it and couldn’t leave it to be destroyed by the taint it was a beautiful thing in the chaos... Like you. Like Zev too.” Alistair says blushing and Zevran chuckles and he chuckles.

“So I should give both of you tattoos then yes?” He asks and Vararis laughs.

“My black bird you could carve your name into me and I’d be pleased, but given what I heard you talk about it sounds far more pleasant not that we Dalish do ours the same way.” Zevran laughs and Alistair relaxes smiling offering the rose to the elf who takes it and smiles softly.

“I’ll see about having it preserved.” Vararis says softly and sets it back and hugs the human and Zevran leans against the wall watching and waiting. 

“I’m a bit fragile... So, I’ll not be able to do much I’m afraid. How about we show Alistair a few tricks, Zev?” Vararis asks feeling too open and vulnerable and Zevran grins looking at the human.

“Shall you indulge us?” He asks and Alistair swallows and nods at a loss of words. The two slowly back him to the bed and they slowly strip the human down to his smalls before they strip though for Vararis he keeps his pants on and watches Zevran do the same. 

“This can go slow or fast, how do you want this to go?” Zevran asks as Vararis will let him take lead. After all as he’d said he was in fact fragile. He was rather brittle in wake of the old god rushing first through him then to the child he and Morrigan had created. Alistair takes a deep breath and blurts out what’s on his mind. As Alistair is prone to do.

“I want to make sure I can please both of you.” He says in a rush and Vararis laughs.

“What makes you think you can’t, Lath?” Vararis laughs and kisses him. He glanced to Zevran and gestures them to move forward as he straddles the human Zevran slips up behind him and Alistair glanced back but is caught by those pretty eyes he adores that smile and look as mischievous as a cat with a canary. The two take their time being sure AListair wasn’t going to startle or get to nervous as they distract him with kisses and soft touches all aiming to relax him so he’s leaning into them. 

“Vararis...” Alistair hisses his cock’s trapped under the elf so it makes sense he’s becoming impatient. The elf reaches down rubbing softly.

“Yes?” He asks tilting his head wondering if the man will say it.

“Please, both of you, anything but more teasing.” Alistair whines and both elves smile and nod. Vararis moves back and trades with Zevran as they move up the bed and remove the last bit of their cloths.

“Let me show you how to treat Vararis, hmm?” Zevran purrs and Alistair swallows nodding bright pink but his eye clear somewhat so he can focus on what Zevran will show him. The elf shows him what he’ll need to do and Vararis always marveled at Zevran’s self control. By now he’d be quivering begging for anything more than fingers but Zevran was slow and through and if Alistair did this Vararis had a feeling he’d be whining more frequently in the future. Zevran coaches the human to swap with him guidding the human’s hands through the motions and that’s when Zevran starts to crack and Vararis purrs as he watches kissing Zevran as the other gives a purr. Alistair sighs a shiver running through him and Vararis chuckles and looks down.

“Doing well... He never breaks with me... And I always end up begging by now... But I’m regulated to side lines for now... Can’t wait to take his place though.” The elf sighs against Alistair’s lips and the human let’s his free hand tangle in the snowy hair and tug the elf into a kiss. Vararis eventually pulls back panting and Alistair’s a bit short of breath too. The elf looks at Zevran who nods a flush on his caramel skin that Vararis always loved to see.

Zevran gently pushes Alistair’s hand back shivering with a soft whine before he slides down the human’s cock hissing as he does and Alistair let’s out a low sound that makes both elves with him shiver. They take their time Vararis watching the whole time until he is near tears as he’s been trying to not spoil it and beat the two to a finish which he could do his restraint wasn’t good but Alistair kissing Zevran and blindly reaching for his other elf and rubbing an uncertain hand over the cock has Vararis making a high pitched noise he’ll deny til he dies as he breaks apart panting as he flops over to curl into Alistair’s side kissing and nipping at his neck watching the two finish and he just purrs content. He’s so happy he chose to take Morrigan’s offer as he sleeps curled up with both halves of his heart and passes out victorious against the Blight.

[leagueofbane]

“Your company is far more appealing than Barsad’s.”

Nyssa contemplates her next move, while Bane and Talia celebrate their reunion, in this next installment of my Bane fic THE DEMON’S LEGACY.

(This story is also available at Ao3 and FanFiction.net.)

Chapter 4

             Diya Panjabi’s home was cramped and dark, located on the second floor of a tiny three-story dwelling made of mud bricks, typical for the village. Nyssa reached the door via a pale blue, steep exterior staircase with no railing and with small steps that would prove a challenge for her mother once she grew elderly. Nyssa often tried to convince her mother to move to a ground-floor dwelling, offering to buy one for her, but her stubborn parent always refused.

           “This has been my home since I was born,” she always said. “This is where you were born, daughter. I am comfortable here.”

           The home itself had only two windows and received sparse light due to the proximity of the neighboring buildings. While the structures protected it from the broiling Rajasthan sun, they also stole any breeze. Two rooms made up the interior—a modest bedroom and a larger room that served as both kitchen, dining room and living space. A pair of fans whirred away in the latter room, and the television Nyssa had bought her mother a few years ago had some Indian cooking show on. The scent of dum aloo and galaouti kebabs made Nyssa’s mouth water and reminded of her childhood. She was shocked to see her mother now at the stove.

           “Maji!” she scolded, setting down the bundle of unsold goods brought home from the bazaar. “Why are you out of bed? I’ll do the cooking. Haven’t we already discussed this?”

           Diya was twenty years older than Nyssa, but the hard years of her life, the heartbreak over the desertion of Nyssa’s father and his later death, had taken its toll by adding ten years to the leathery skin of her round face and to her dark eyes as well. But her smile at the sight of her daughter took away some of that wear.

           “I am feeling much better, betee.” With a bamboo spoon, she shooed away Nyssa’s solicitous hands.

           “I don’t care if you are. Sit down at the table and let me finish this.”

           Her mother chuckled. “My daughter is no cook.”

           “True enough, but it looks like everything’s almost done anyway. You’ve always had good timing, Maji. When I was little, you would be just setting the food on the table when I’d come home from playing with my friends.”

           “It was you who had the timing, betee. Your nose was keen and you had the appetite of a boy.” She glanced toward the unsold merchandise. “It looks like you did well today.”

           “Well, everyone is eager to help you, so they buy,” Nyssa shrugged, “whether they really need anything or have the money.”

           Her mother turned back to the stove. “I remember they were not so eager to help me when I was young.” She sighed. “But that was a different life. I am glad they no longer judge me for it. And many who did are dead now.”

           “Sit down, Maji. Please. Let me finish.”

           The fact that her mother obeyed belied the fact that she was not as well as she claimed.

           As Diya eased herself into a chair at the two-person table, she gave a dry laugh, “If sales are so good, perhaps I should be sick more often and let my beautiful daughter sell my wares. No doubt the men of the village used sympathy for me as an excuse to loiter around your stall.”

           “Whatever works, Maji.”

           “You always knew how to use your beauty to your advantage.”

           “And so did you. If I recall the story correctly, that’s how you snagged my father’s attention.” She glanced over her shoulder. “And speaking of him, I saw Maysam El Fadil today. There was a boy with her. A cute little thing who wanted one of your dolls.”

           Her mother chuckled. “Yes, he loves to take them apart, Maysam tells me. Typical boy—destroy instead of build.”

           “He said he takes them apart to make them better.”

           “He is a precocious one.”

           “Who is he?”

           Now her mother’s smile vanished, and she began to fidget with the plate in front of her. “I don’t ask such questions of Maysam El Fadil. No one with any sense would.”

           “Maji, you do know his name, right?”

           “Of course,” she mumbled.

           “Henri is not an Arabic name, as you know. And how strange that he has the same name as my father. So who is he?”

           “What does it matter?”

           Nyssa shrugged one shoulder. “I’m just curious. Aren’t you? Maysam seems to love the boy very much, so that leads me to believe she’s close to his parent or parents. Why else would they have a child living in the palace who obviously is of mixed blood, judging by his name and appearance, I mean?”

           “I hope you didn’t ask any impertinent questions of Maysam or the child.”

           “Of course not. You didn’t raise an idiot, did you?” She offered a humoring smile and a wink before bringing the food to the table.

           “Don’t stick your nose into El Fadil business. It will only bring trouble to both of us.”

           Nyssa said nothing more about the boy during the meal, for she wanted to avoid upsetting her mother or opening old wounds. But later, when night had invaded their home and her mother lay asleep in her room, Nyssa remained awake on the sofa, thinking about the encounter in the bazaar.

           The child was significant. She just knew it in her bones. His name…could it betray a secret? No, she was thinking crazy. Henri Ducard was dead, as was his wife, years ago, according to the stories. And their daughter, Talia, was also dead, well before that boy was born. Or was she? A body had never been found in the aftermath of the Gotham siege. The Gotham police commissioner claimed Talia had died in front of him after the truck she had been driving crashed. But Commissioner Gordon had not remained at the site of her demise for long that day. There had been no one else around until later when the citizens emerged from their homes, saved from nuclear annihilation by the Batman flying Bane’s bomb out to sea. The League’s men surely had removed Talia, alive or dead. The global community believed her dead, and Bane as well.

           But, in the gray world of mercenaries, Nyssa had heard rumors from three years ago when the terrorist known as Al Thi’b, the Wolf, had been killed. Although the Americans claimed responsibility for the operation, mercenaries who sometimes operated in the murky world of Islamic radicals claimed the American story was not completely true. Shortly before Al Thi’b’s death, the Saudi terrorist had been contacted by someone offering the sale of a ballistic missile as bait. If that part of the story was true, there were few people or organizations in the world who could or would deal in such weaponry, the League of Shadows being one of them. Al Thi’b wouldn’t have met with the seller without first having proof of the missile’s existence. Who would be so bold except the League’s commander to flaunt such a weapon? It smacked of Bane, but if he lived, why would he work with the Americans, and, equally important, why would the Americans have worked with Bane? Some sort of deal, of course; what else could it be? Something that mutually benefitted both sides.

           So if Bane indeed lived, perhaps Talia did as well. Maybe she was still Demon Head of the League. Perhaps that little boy with Maysam was Talia’s child. Who else could Maysam love as much as she obviously loved that boy? And who was the father?

           Years ago, when Siddig El Fadil had died of a heart attack, a rumor flew through the village that a beautiful young woman who looked very much like Melisande had attended the funeral. The ceremony had been private, of course, so who knew if the whispers were true? But it caught Nyssa’s attention when she had visited her mother a short while after Siddig had been buried. She had rarely considered that she may have half-siblings. If the woman at the funeral was indeed Melisande’s daughter, then she had to have been born in prison. Surely the father wasn’t just some random inmate; if so, Nyssa doubted the El Fadil household would have allowed Melisande’s daughter to attend the funeral, even if Maysam had insisted it be allowed. And the fact that this woman didn’t appear until after Siddig was dead further stirred Nyssa’s curiosity that the mystery woman might indeed be her half-sister. Siddig El Fadil’s shame over Melisande secretly marrying the infidel Henri Ducard had led to his daughter’s imprisonment. No way could he have known Melisande was pregnant at the time he had banished her. If he had, the gossiping villagers had little doubt that Siddig would have terminated the pregnancy, or worse. But with Siddig dead, that meant Melisande’s daughter could safely visit her grandmother without fear of her grandfather’s vengefulness.

           Over the years, Nyssa had eventually pushed aside her curiosity. Discussing the possibility of having a half-sister only caused her mother pain. Nyssa hated her father for being responsible for such sorrow. Her own pain she could bear but not her mother’s. Yet when Nyssa learned of her father’s death, waves of conflicting emotions had drowned her. Unexpectedly, she had been consumed by grief. All the what-ifs revisited her from her years growing up in the village. And learning that her father had been the head of such an infamous organization as the League of Shadows further intrigued her about how her life would have been different if her father had stayed with them. The little girl in her had hoped that perhaps one day she would meet him, that they might finally have a relationship. But the Batman had ended any such hope.

           What of Talia’s relationship with their father? According to Commissioner Gordon, Talia had claimed to be finishing her father’s work with the Gotham siege. If true, she must have had a meaningful relationship with their father. The thought used to make Nyssa jealous and angry. How could her father love Talia while completely forgetting his first daughter? And had he bothered to tell Talia that she had a half-sister? Or had he been too embarrassed by his abandonment to admit such a thing?

           Nyssa sighed and wished she could sleep. Her father was dead and perhaps her half-sister, too. Why should she lose precious sleep tonight thinking about them?

           The boy. Henri.

           The name couldn’t be simply a coincidence, just as her coming back to the village and meeting him in the bazaar couldn’t be simply a coincidence. There was a reason behind the timing of it all. She needed to find out what that reason was. She needed to know if her half-sister truly was dead or alive. And if Talia was indeed dead, then that meant Nyssa was now heir to the Demon. Was it a position she wanted to pursue, her birthright? It was a question she had toyed with ever since her father’s death.

           One corner of her mouth curled into a smile. Her father had taken so much from her mother, from her. Perhaps it was only fitting if she tried to claim what had once been his.

###

           Talia set her dessert plate on the small table between her and Maysam, every last morsel of mafruka devoured. She gazed out over the palace courtyards in the haze of late evening, watched a distant flock of starlings wheel and plunge against the backdrop of purple sky before darting away toward the village. Picking up her coffee cup, she blew gently against the dark liquid as she noted her grandmother’s troubled expression. She had just returned from seeing Abrams out.

           “Is something wrong, Jiddah?”

           Maysam snapped out of her trance, but her frown remained. Bane also watched her closely from his chair near the veranda railing. Barsad raised his eyebrows with interest from where he sat on the other side of Maysam. Next to him, Sanjana stared down at her coffee cup, as if not hearing Talia’s inquiry.

           “No,” Maysam said. “Nothing’s wrong. But there is something I want to say, an apology for my behavior at dinner.”

           “Apology?” Talia echoed.

           “Yes, for what I said to Aaron about Diya’s daughter. I shouldn’t have dismissed his concerns, especially in front of others. I apologized to him just now, and I want to do the same to all of you.”

           Barsad came to her aid with an amused smile. “Abrams didn’t think twice about what you said, I’m sure. He’s a crusty old bastard. He’d never think badly of you.”

           “All the same, I’m sorry.”

           Sanjana had lifted her head when Maysam first said the word apology, and now she blinked with surprise at the older woman before returning her attention to her coffee. Then she leaned over and spoke quietly into Barsad’s ear. Barsad stood.

           “Well, we’re going to say good night.” He took Sanjana’s hands to help her extricate her unwieldy body from her chair. “We’re both exhausted.”

           “Thank you for dinner, Madam,” Sanjana said demurely.

           Standing, Maysam said, “I’m glad you both came.”

           Bane had also stood, and he gave Sanjana a warm smile and nod as she passed by into the dining room with Barsad.

           After their footfalls had died away, Talia said, “I wonder if Sanjana will ever stop calling you Madam.”

           “Perhaps she never will,” Bane said. “She is a respectful girl, as she should be to Maysam.”

           “Because I’m old?” Maysam teased with a small smile.

           Bane grinned. “I never said that.”

           “Well, I am old. Old and foolish to have treated Aaron the way I did.”

           “Jiddah.” Talia touched her hand on the arm of her wicker chair. “It’s not a big deal. None of us took it as an insult toward him. And neither did he, I’m sure.”

           Maysam sighed. “He is a skittish one, though. I fear hurting his feelings.”

           Talia laughed. “He’s a bit tougher than that, Jiddah.”

           “Don’t let his hard outer shell fool you, hafida. He is a sensitive man. That is why he is so deeply scarred and why he protects himself emotionally.”

           A spark of mischief danced in Talia’s sapphire eyes. “Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought.”

           “Don’t tease me about this again, hafida.”

           “But why not? It’s so fun.”

           “Habibati,” Bane gently chided Talia, eyebrows raised. “Leave her be.”

           “But they’re so cute together, don’t you think? And they could have such fun.”

           “You speak as if I am a teenager,” Maysam said. “I am an old woman, older than Aaron. Why would he want anything to do with me in the way you are thinking?”

           “And how am I thinking?”

           “Perhaps,” Bane rumbled, “it is time for us to retire as well, Talia.”

           “You aren’t dead, Jiddah, and neither is Abrams. There’s still more for you in life.”

           “There is plenty for me already—I have my great-grandson and my loving granddaughter to keep me busy, even if she does sometimes stick her nose in my business.”

           “Yes, you’ve devoted your last two years to our child, and we love you for it. But we would also love to see you happy in other ways. You deserve a good man, and Abrams is that.”

           “I told you, he is not interested.”

           “You don’t believe that. He’s just mortally shy, Jiddah. Give him some more time. I know he cares for you. He just doesn’t know how to show it and whether he can because of working for you.”

           Maysam snorted. “You are a foolish girl.”

           “I think she’s right,” Bane said.

           Maysam stared at him in surprise.

           “Abrams does care for you.”

           “He has spoken to you of this?”

           “Of course not. But I know what I see when he looks at you. I, too, am a man, after all.” He winked.

           Maysam blushed.

           Bane got to his feet. “Now, I must retire. We must retire.” He held his hand out to Talia, who frowned at him but accepted his hand and stood. “Thank you for dinner, Maysam.”

           Maysam embraced him. “I’m so glad you’re back, Haris. We have all missed you so much, especially Henri. He worships you.”

           “I’m pleased to be back.” He kissed her cheek. “Good night.”

###

           “Poor Barsad,” Talia said as she and Bane walked down the long hallway toward their suite. “He was trying so hard during dinner to draw Sanjana into the conversation.”

           “It is a difficult situation for Sanjana. I have suggested to him that he take her away from here, to dwell elsewhere, but you can imagine what he said to that.”

           “Before he devoted himself to Sanjana, he devoted himself to you, his brother. You know nothing will ever come between you two, not even the mother of his child.”

           “It should not be this way,” Bane grumbled. “The girl deserves a better life.”

           “Maybe, but it seems to me her life was far worse before she came to the palace.”

           “Indeed, but still, she will always be in Maysam’s shadow here at the palace.”

           Talia glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was within hearing distance. “Do you think she suspects Barsad’s old affair with Maysam? Could that be adding to her discomfort?”

           “Women are uncannily intuitive,” Bane quietly said. “But I surely hope she continues to be ignorant of that part of Barsad’s life. It would crush her. And I can’t imagine she could allow herself to remain at the palace.”

           “But Jiddah is…well, older now.”

           “Of course Sanjana would not fear a rekindling of the relationship, but, as a woman, can you honestly say such a revelation wouldn’t disconcert you, especially when she already feels intimidated by Maysam?”

           Talia frowned. “True, it would add to the awkwardness. But if Sanjana does suspect or find out, I think it wouldn’t have the same effect on her if Jiddah and Abrams were together.”

           “Perhaps.”

           They reached their suite and entered through the door at the near end, one which led into the spa. This door, like the other one farther down the hall, was guarded by one of the League’s men, part of the small security force that lived at the palace since Talia had come to reside here full time.

           The spa was lit dimly by a few of the recessed lights in the low ceiling. Their dull golden shine danced upon the placid water of the rectangular pool. None of the myriad of scented candles were lit, so the smell of chlorine dominated the room. Talia and Bane had made love many times here, both in and out of the water. Bane used the spa even more than Talia did. She often found him relaxing in its warmth in the evenings after dinner, for it soothed his aching back. Afterwards, she sometimes spoiled him with a massage. She always did whatever she could to relieve his pain. But tonight Talia knew without asking that he would not indulge himself; she could tell by the looseness of his arm around her how tired he was from his mission and his long journey home.

           They passed through the Romanesque spa and down the hallway. A guard stood in front of Henri’s bedroom door, and he smiled white teeth in his dark face, a smile that always coaxed the same from Talia. This was Mohammad Adeyemi—known as Yemi—a burly Nigerian who had been rescued from the pit prison with Bane, an old friend who had once saved Talia’s life when she had been an infant. Since becoming a member of the League of Shadows, he continued to protect her as the head of her personal security and now Henri’s as well. Officially, Yemi’s detail was to protect Bane as Demon Head, since Talia no longer held any position in the League after becoming pregnant and relinquishing command to Bane. But Bane made it clear to Yemi and his men that Talia and Henri’s safety was their priority, not him.

           “He hasn’t stirred,” Yemi whispered.

           “Thank goodness,” Talia murmured. “Thank you, Yemi. Have a good night.”

           With a sly grin and a glance at Bane, Yemi said, “You, too,” then left them.

           Talia peeked into Henri’s room, Bane’s gentle hand upon her shoulder. She watched her son sleep, listened to his deep breaths fluttering against the pillow. So innocent, so sweet. If only he was as placid while awake.

           Bane kissed her softly on the cheek and embraced her from behind. She sighed and touched his hand, so relieved to have him here to take some of the pressure of parenthood from her. Life was simple and secure when he was near. Their family was complete, that sense of protection she remembered in the vaguest of ways from long, long ago in prison when her mother still lived and Bane was her father, brother, and best friend. More of a feeling than a memory, really, for how clear were the memories of a five-year-old?

           Afraid Henri might sense their presence and awaken, Talia pressed back against Bane to encourage him to retreat. His stirring manhood made itself known. She loved how much he still desired her, even as tired as he was.

           Pulling Henri’s door silently shut, she whispered, “I’m going to wash up for bed. Would you mind pouring me a glass of wine?”

           Bane sensually kissed her neck, making her body tingle. “Your wish is my command. Don’t be long, my dove.” Then he freed her and headed down the hallway.

           Talia watched him, noting how his usually-lumbering steps were often lighter whenever he was aroused. Distraction eased his aches and pains. She was glad to be responsible for it. Whatever she could give him, she would. After all, no matter how much she did for him, she could never repay him for his lifelong devotion.

           In the obscenely large bathroom, she washed her face and brushed her teeth, thinking about her grandmother and Abrams. She wished there would be a breakthrough in their relationship, especially now with Barsad so close to becoming a father. Though her grandmother never said anything about how Barsad’s relationship with Sanjana affected her, Talia knew there was still a lingering nostalgia in her grandmother over the torrid affair she had had with Barsad years before he had met Bane, back when he worked for the El Fadil family. It was not that her grandmother still carried a torch for Barsad but instead, Talia surmised, it was merely a natural loneliness from seeing those around her in love, especially a man whom she had once called her own. Talia was confident a relationship with Aaron Abrams would fill the hole in her grandmother’s life.

           Talia frowned, knowing Abrams was a tough nut to crack. Bane had confided to her what Abrams once told him in prison, before Talia had even been born. There had been a prisoner, called the Vulture, who had befriended Bane directly after Bane’s mother had died, when the boy was most vulnerable. Unbeknownst to Bane, the inmate was a pedophile. Abrams had told him to be cautious around the Vulture on more than one occasion. From what Abrams had said, Bane later realized—after the Vulture tried to rape him—that Abrams’s warnings had come from personal experience with a similar deviant, though Abrams never clarified or elaborated. Seeing Abrams every day and witnessing his tightly guarded ways, Talia figured his behavior even now was influenced by the abuse he suffered in the past. Though Abrams was comfortable with Yemi, Bane, and Barsad and had forged a strong friendship, he had never confided the secrets of his youth to any of them. That life, and Abrams’s life in the pit, were memories he refused to revisit. Perhaps he feared that entering an intimate relationship with Maysam—or any woman—would lead to uncomfortable questions about his past.

           Lately, Maysam talked more and more about trying to get closer to Abrams. She often pondered aloud her confusion over why Abrams refused to explore their relationship, especially when his body language revealed his interest in her. On more than one occasion, Talia considered telling her grandmother what she and Bane suspected about Abrams’s past, but she held her tongue, not wanting to say something so intimate about her friend, especially when she had no confirmation that he had indeed been abused and certainly had no permission to do so even if she had proof. Instead, Talia had couched her reasons for his distance with mere speculation, safe things like a broken heart or even a sexual dysfunction, hoping this would satisfy her grandmother. Yet, Maysam’s wistful search for answers continued, and it wounded Talia’s heart.

           “What is taking you so long, habibati?” Bane’s voice startled Talia.

           In the mirror, she watched him approach from the doorway, naked and still aroused. The sight of his stiff, bobbing member instantly stirred her, initiating a rush of molten heat from within her.

           “I was thinking of Jiddah and Abrams.”

           Bane’s tree-like arms slipped around her, and he buried his nose in her long, dark hair. “It is true Abrams moves with the speed of a glacier, but rest assured he is moving inevitably in Maysam’s direction. Patience, little mouse. Look how long I had to wait for you, but it was well worth it. Your grandmother will think the same in time.” He pulled her against him, not allowing her to turn and face him. “Now, no more talk of romance except our own.”

           His hand lazily unzipped her pants, dipping inside. She wore no underwear to hinder his exploration. Another gush of liquid desire, coating his fingers as he made her writhe slightly and close her eyes. His other hand tugged her pants off her hips, and they folded like an accordion around her bare feet. He growled softly and kissed her neck, sending further tremors of delight through her.

           With the inescapable fortitude of a mountain, Bane pinned her against the white marble vanity, a willing captive, her hands braced along the far edge of the sink. She loved it when he took charge. It was almost always this way when he returned from a mission, as if he felt the need to dominate and reclaim her. Sometimes she would pretend to resist, just to increase the sexual tension and his determination, but he always won, bending her to his will, the only man who ever could.

           Deftly his fingers unbuttoned the first couple of buttons on her blouse, enough to make it easy for him to drag it over her head. His fingers trailed through her mane, then down between her shoulder blades. As he pressed her torso toward the sink, she tilted her pelvis to offer what he desired, to encourage him. Between her thighs, his skillful fingers continued to tantalize her, making her impatient. She already panted in anticipation, his warm manhood pressed against her buttocks. She arched herself even more, wanting his cock between her legs, wanting to reach for it but unable to because of the vanity against her belly.

           Finally his erection rubbed against her swollen heat. Talia moaned and tried to move, in vain.

           “You are trapped, my love,” he murmured hoarsely in her ear. “Like a beautiful butterfly in a spider’s web. A spider who wishes to devour you.”

           He rubbed his penis against her womanhood, torturing her further. He smeared her warmth the length of his erection. She bent closer to the sink, opening herself even wider to him, like a flower as the sun rises. His other hand fondled her dangling breasts. How she wanted to touch him, to quench her own thirst. But he was unrelenting in his pressure against the vanity, and finally he glided inside her, nearly lifting her off her feet, her toes curling.

           His hands took hold of her hips, and he began to move, first with shallow thrusts, but not so shallow that he would drift outside of her and need to begin again. But he was cognizant of how uncomfortable her position was against the marble, so his thrusts soon went deeper, harder, faster. More than once she lost her footing, but the pinning force of his body kept her anchored.

           In the mirror’s reflection, animal passion contorted his face, his eyes pressed shut in concentration, his mouth slightly open to emit grunts of pleasure. No mask to deprive Talia of his handsome visage. Even the scars from the surgeries failed to detract from his looks. She longed to run her fingers through his short, unkempt brown hair.

           Bane’s fingers dug into her hips. His speed, his urgency accelerated, and Talia gripped the faucet fixtures to brace against him. The edge of the vanity bruised her hip bones, but the pain only served to heighten her own excitement. As if sensing she was about to lose the ability to keep him from forcing her headfirst into the mirror, he snaked one arm between her belly and the vanity, locking her against his driving pelvis. Deeper, deeper until she cried out in ecstasy, knuckles turning white as she clenched the gold fixtures, no longer able to look in the mirror, to see anything. Instead she just felt—felt his power, her surrender, their consummation; heard their mingled outcries, echoing against the glass and marble.

           He caught her as she collapsed, kept her tight against him while he shuddered out his last, his breath leaving him in one long exhale. Slowly, reluctantly he withdrew, wrapped both arms around her limp form. His legs trembled, and he succumbed to their weakness, drawing her with him to the cool floor where they sat together. Talia sighed and remained in his arms, sitting between his hard-muscled legs, his slimy, sated member against her. She leaned against his chest, and he kissed the top of her head.

           “How I’ve missed this,” Talia murmured, her finger trailing across his bulging pectorals. “I wish you would never have to leave us.”

           He kissed her lips. “If I had my wish, you would be with me always, my dear, you and our difficult boy cub.” Mischief glinted in his eyes. “Your company is far more appealing than Barsad’s.”

           She smiled her appreciation, welcomed another kiss, then relaxed against him once more.

           Bane hugged her close, breathing in the bouquet of her hair and the lingering scent from their union. “Let us take a shower, habibati, and wash ourselves clean before bed. I will need my rest if I am to entertain our son all day tomorrow, as he will demand. And I can see how very tired you are, perhaps more so than I.”

           “Yes,” she sighed. “I don’t think I ever had a tougher mission during my years in the League than what I face now, raising a child.”

           Bane chuckled. “Well, at least I will be here for a while to relieve you.”

           Her frown came again, bringing with it the melancholy she had been experiencing for the past few weeks, since Bane had left. But how to explain it to him? She preferred not to burden him with her troubles, though her grandmother insisted she speak with him about it. She remembered how he had probed her gaze earlier, upon his return, and asked if something was wrong. Of course he knew something was amiss; he was always so in tune with her, as she was with him. If she tried to keep her feelings to herself, he would find a way to pry the secret out of her, so perhaps her grandmother was right.

           As Bane helped Talia to her feet, she thought of Henri’s latest act of defiance. Perhaps when she showed Bane the evidence, he would thoroughly understand the level of her frustration. If anyone could change Henri’s behavior, it was his father. Talia had nearly given up.

[shatteredskies042]

NaNo Day 13

Compressing his lips together, he decided on boiling some noodles he had found in a cabinet. The noodle packaging was old, another odd thing he had found since living here. He also recovered some pasta sauce, and discovered some beef in the fridge that looked good. He brought it all together and started to cook. He boiled water for the pasta, and began to cook the meat with salt and garlic, finding a dusty rack of spices. Once the meat was browned, he started the pasta sauce, chopping up the meat up before he added it to the sauce. He added a bit of sugar that he found, something sweet to counter the acidic flavor of the sauce.

He heard Allyson behind him take a seat on the bar, resting her head in her hand as she watched him with a small smile. “You’re a natural,” she told him.

“My mom said the same once,” he responded as he finished mixing the beef and sauce together. He set it for a low simmer while he boiled the noodles, moving to a loaf of french bread he had found earlier. He cut pieces out and set up the oven for broiling, giving the tops a coating of butter and a good helping of garlic. “She wanted to be a cook, before she became a nurse,” he explained as he managed the multiple pots and sheets. “She hated it, they wanted her to get it down to a science, to repeat every time,” he shook his head as he slid the garlic bread under the broiler of the oven and shutting the door. “She couldn’t do that, every dish was different, even if it was the same meal,” he glanced back at the blonde, oven mitt in hand. “Some things just can’t be taught,” he mused as he looked for more bread. He found what he wanted in hoagie rolls, and set them on another cookie sheet for later grilling. He scavenged through the refrigerator, then looked back at the blonde, “what do you have for cheese?” he asked.

“Nothing too fancy, but I don’t suspect you’re wanting to use some weird hundred-year old French cheese,” she mused.

Haghn found the cheese, and took the packages out by the handful and threw them out onto the counter. He returned after he removed the garlic bread from the oven, setting it on the counter to cool a bit. The tops were browned, on the verge of going darker, but saved just in time. “What do you like on a sandwich?” he asked the blonde, “and how many?”

“What are you making?” she asked curiously as she watched him build his own. “I’ll take two?”

Michael laid out two sandwiches for her, then guessed and started laying cheese out. He selected pepper jack for himself, then explained: “I’m using the leftover beef and some vegetables to make beef sandwiches.”

“Swiss and cheddar, then,” she requested, watching him work as he managed the heat on the pasta and stirring the simmering red sauce. “And your plan is, exactly?”

“Spaghetti and sauce, garlic bread, and beef sandwiches,” he said as he added the pasta to the sauce and mixed it together, letting it simmer together. “Simple, tasty, and hard to mess up,” he told her.

“I’ll say, it smells delicious,” she noted before pushing off the bar and walking around it. “What about to drink?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “I owned a bar once, you know,” she informed him, opening her liquor cabinet. “I can make just about anything.”

“Typically, I prefer scotch, the good stuff,” Michael admitted. “But I’m not opposed to vodka, as long as, again, it’s not the cheap stuff. I was spoiled by one of my hosts when my unit deployed to Russia,” he said with a fond smile.

“What happened in Russia?” the blonde asked, starting to mix herself a drink as she watched him.

“Remember the big manhunt for the Ayatollah of Iran?” he asked, “you’re looking at one of the men who was responsible for his capture.”

“Really?” the blonde said with an amused smile, taking a small sip of her drink, before adding more of one ingredient to it. “So, tell me about them,” she asked, looking up at him as she walked away and to the massive table. She sat her drink down one one side, then returned to the kitchen to retrieve plates and bowls.

“You ask a lot of questions,” he noted, glancing at the angel with a wry smile.

“I want to get to know you, Michael,” she said, looking at him with soft brown eyes, “especially if we’re going to be working together.”

Michael pursed his lips together, then stepped back to let her create her dish. “Unofficially, we were UN’s sword. The security council were our bosses, and we deployed to counter threats before they materialized. We also reacted to important or dangerous crime scenes where it was clear that a military presence was needed instead of a law enforcement one.”

“So, what, you’ve stopped bank robberies?” she asked, glancing around a curtain of flowing golden hair.

“We stopped one, in Denmark, but mostly we deployed against actual terrorists,” Michael clarified as he watched her. The blonde took hefty servings of the noodles, but still left plenty for him. “I was in Korea before then,” he told her.

“I’ve sat out the major wars,” Ally told him, “since World War II, that is.” She took her plate and bowl to the table, then sat them down and watched him, waiting for the soldier to join her. “Where were you?” she asked, “when it happened?”

“Protecting a forward recovery field,” he told her, “I was going to be a part of a unit taking a Korean airfield, but the helicopter we would have rode in on broke down,” he remembered. “That airfield was between two of the detonations, and there wouldn’t have been enough of me to bury,” he said quietly as he dished his dinner.

“You were lucky,” Ally mused before he joined her at the table, sitting across from her on the massive oak table.

“Surviving has always been what I was good at, or my curse,” he said quietly as they started eating. Michael fell sullen, remembering the flashes and what it entailed. He was far enough away from the fallout, but it still horrified him.

“Who would do that,” Allyson whispered, “I’ve seen tragedies, seen madmen, stopped them, but that was another level of crazy.”  

“He didn’t care,” Michael reminded the blonde. “The reason we never directly attacked the capital and command infrastructure, people moved in close to them and became shields. It’s why the madman is alive, because if we hit his bunker, we very publicly execute a couple hundred innocent people just to kill one man.”

“If you had the chance,” Ally said, looking up at him as she spooled a bite of spaghetti, “would you kill him?”

“Absolutely.”

“Even if the replacements were worse?” Ally raised an eyebrow as she took the bite.

“Then I keep pulling the trigger until we find someone who plays ball.”

“You might be doing that for a while,” she stated once she finished her bite, smiling approvingly.

“I might,” Michael admitted, “and I don’t like doing it. But a lasting peace, the chance for change, what’s it worth?”

Ally contemplated, spooling another bite and eating, savoring the rich flavor of the sauce. She’d gotten lucky, and they would have to make this a regular thing. “What about Avalon?” she asked, “if you weren’t looking for the tomb, why were you there?”

“The mercenaries,” Michael said simply. “They killed my unit in Siberia. I’m going to find out who is responsible, who pulled the trigger, and who gave the order, and every one of them is going in the ground.”

[thisisthemadhouse]

6: The Quake

Dear James

There has been quite a gap between my last letter this one. I apologize for my negligence and hope the following can begin to make it up to you.  

A few weeks ago we discovered large umbrellas of fungus growing in the foyer of the House. I swear I have never heard Meriweather curse so loudly in my life. Since their discovery she has been fumigating every room and cleaning in excess. She has also informed us that we are to tell none of the neighbors of the infestation. “What would they think of us then?!” She inquired as she aggressively scoured the wainscotting in the drawing room. I personally don't know what the neighbors would think but for the sake of not invoking Meriweather’s temper I won't try asking them. After she had finished hacking all the evidence from the foyer she sent me down to check the basement. I expect she would have had us draw straws, but since I am virtually indestructible, she decided it was only logical to send me down to Mia’s lair.

I've been to the basement on a couple of occasions, never willingly. I'd never walked down the steps either. I'd always just woken up strapped to a table or chained to a wall. The steps creaked tremendously as I descended. I tried to press my hand against the wall to lessen the sound, but had to instantly draw it away again. The wall seemed to be covered in something with a similar texture to mucus. As my bare feet touched down to the cold stone of the floor I looked around, expecting to catch Mia in the act of something wretched. There was no sign of her. Slightly apprehensive I delved further into the gloom of the space. A dark shape skittered past my foot. I jerked back tumbling to land on my elbows. The dark shape scurried onto my chest. I blinked. The rat blinked back. I clambered to my feet swatting the rat away. It seemed to glare at me with its luminous red eyes before melting back into the shadows. Leave it to Mia to have creepy pets.

I walked into the basement proper, eyes squinting in the dim light that flickered from old fluorescent bulbs that hung bare from the ceiling. I scanned the wall, searching for signs of growth. Nothing. I came upon her table and shivered at the recollections that suddenly swum in my mind’s eye. I ducked beneath the table, arms and legs trembling. Still nothing. A muffled sound found my ears and I stood up. Across the room from me hung a heavy metal door that gaped the smallest bit ajar. The sound came again. I tried to steady my breathing as I made my way towards the door. The weathered iron shrieked as I pulled it open further. Inside I could see large cylindrical tanks and piping that criss crossed it’s way up into the ceiling. In the center of the room sat a figure, hunched over and bound to a metal folding chair with lengths of bloodstained cord. At the sound of my entrance the figure’s head shot up. Staring at me wildly, he began to strain against his bonds. My heart sank for I knew who he was, and I knew I could not help him. I stepped closer to him trying to get a good look at his face, wondering what form he had taken that day. As expected he was in his favourite configuration. Long legs, thick body, harshly side parted hair and a largely overhanging brow. Fighting the fear that flooded me at the sight of his face I puzzled slightly knowing he was missing something. A new sound entered my consciousness, the sharp and ever growing clicking of stilettos on stone. The boy looked panicked and began to struggle harder muffled exclamations growing more desperate. Mia strode past me clutching a lamp that flickered a haunting blue. She walked behind the shuddering boy and draped her arms around his shoulders. He tried to jerk away from her but I new from experience that he didn’t have a chance of succeeding. She looked up at me, letting the flame bob dangerously close to the boy’s neck. She seemed very put out to be interrupted. I tried to speak but all that came from my throat was a strangled squawk of fear. A hair raising smile cut across her face and she left the boy to stride over to me. I felt her arms around my torso and I tensed myself for the inevitable pain that would soon be inflicted on me. Mia did not disappoint.  She brought the flame to my exposed neck and laughed as my I began to choke on my own melting flesh. After the entire front of my throat was torched she dropped me to the floor gasping for air, urging my broiled vocal cords to heal. She set the lamp down beside the boy’s chair and and once again stood behind him playing with his hair. I tried to speak but just coughed sending a spray of blood across the floor. I climbed shakily to my feet and tried again. “m-Meriweather sent me” I swallowed wincing as the damaged muscles of my throat moved. “She wants to know if there is any of the fungus down here”. Mia rolled her eyes and pulled something from her lab coat. I squinted through the gloom to see what it was. The blue glow of her lamp bounced off one of the lenses. That’s what the boy had been missing: his glasses. Mia examined them for half a second before dropping them carelessly to the ground and bringing her foot down on them with a shattering crunch. She picked up the lamp and looked at me. There was a moment of horrific silence. Then she tossed her light up into the air. Instead of falling to the ground like the glasses had it seemed to fall up. The lamp drifted impossibly high, illuminating to me that the ceiling of the small room was much higher than I could have thought possible. I gasped for as the light drifted upwards it revealed huge shelves of fungus growing from every available surface.

The light drifted back down into Mia’s hand, forcing me to make eye contact with her again. The blue cast her eyes into a weird shade of mauve which, for some reason, I found even worse than their usual blood red. I swallowed hard. “Uhhh… so…. I guess that answers that question….” I could see she was getting annoyed with me. “I’m assuming you’d like to take care of this yourself?” She nodded. “Great” I said cautiously backing away from her “that's totally fine by me, and I'm sure you’re more than capAAAAAAHHHH!” I shrieked with fright as I felt a hand grab my wrist. I looked down to see the boy had slipped free. More remarkable however was how he had shifted form. “You?!” I said, shocked. His grip tightened on my wrist as he reached up to pull the gag from his mouth. His new and more slender pair of spectacles glinted at me. Mia roared and lunged at him tearing my hand from his grip. The House began to shake. Large pieces of fungus began to tumble around us, splintering on impact. A couple pipes must have burst too because a moderately heavy rain began to pelt down on me. I saw Mia swing her leg over the boy and wrap her fingers around his neck before turning to me. “GO!” said the look in her eyes. I went, my hands over my head, an image of the panic in Mia’s eyes burned into my memory.

I made it up the stairs and slammed the door before I noticed I was hurt. I must have stepped on the remnants of the boy’s old glasses while fleeing the boiler room. No matter though, It would heal in minutes. The House was still swaying and I could hear panicked voices from the sitting room. I dashed from the cellar door towards the sounds. “I don’t CARE if she’s past her reasonable threshold! Give her more!”. “Darling you know as well as I do that another couple grams will cause her to fix and we both know she never settles in Florence”. “Is she going to be ok?”. “Yes child she will be… fine”. I burst into the Drawing room. I saw Meriweather, Gryffin and Little One gathered around the green velvet chaise-lounge. Gryffin had a box crammed with vials and other medical equipment open at his feet which he was desperately rooting through. Meriweather stood at the head of the couch consulting the readouts of a cranial scanner. Little One sat in one of the purple stiff backed armchairs in the corner, eyes wide with fright, clutching her small yellow duckling as it quacked frantically. On the velvet lay the twins. Or more accurately almost on the velvet. They hovered above the fabric maybe 2 or 3 inches and were spasming violently. They flickered back and forth at an impossible speed, and their chest pumped up and down as if something were trying to escape from the cavity. Both of them were locked in a silent scream. “It’s no good Meri! I don’t know what will counteract this. She’s going to go into complete reversion! Body tremors, frozen voicebox, memory loss, everything!” Gryffin sat back on his heels with a look of shock on his face “I don’t think I can do anything”. As he spoke the outline of him seemed to get fuzzy and particles of his essences began to blow away. “Mr. Stylez please hold yourself together!” Meriweather pushed the scanner bank aside and dropped to her knees scrabbling through the medicine box. She pulled a large syringe from its depths and began to prep it. Gryffin’s edges redefined themselves and he blinked a couple of times before snapping back into reality. “Meriweather are you crazy!!! You can’t use that on her! It’ll kill her!”

Meriweather either didn’t hear him or else didn’t care. She plunged the needle into one of the dark veins on the twins neck. Their chest rose again before slumping fully onto the chaise-lounge, limp body sinking into the cushions. Ignoring Gryffin’s tirade Meriweather calmly checked their pulse. She sniffed with satisfaction. “Alive” she glanced at Gryffin “no thanks to you”. Gryffin had gotten to his feet and was staring in shock at the body on the couch. “What have you done?” Meriweather pulled off her gloves, not looking at him “what needed to be done Mr. Stylez” and then as if to herself “what needed to be done”. He stood frozen staring. I walked over to see for myself.

She lay there and would have seemed fine but for the large crack running down her face. She wasn’t either of the twins exactly. Half of her hair was a silky well kept blonde that harshly cut to the long waterfall of sickly white on the other half. Her skin was blotchy, patched with freckled pink and deathly pale. Even her clothes appeared to be sewed from strips of the twins clothing, roughly stitching bright florals with gut wrenching hospital blue and various greys. “What happened?” I asked grimmy fascinated by the girl in front of me. The others seemed to become aware of me for the first time. “She’s…. I had to..” tried Meriweather but she seemed uncharacteristically dazed. “She’s been numbed” spat Gryffin obviously disgusted by the word.

It took a couple hours for her to wake up and when she did I found out she has mitch-matched too. The right is Florence’s bright blue and the left is the milky pale blue of Charity. I don’t really know what to call her since she really isn’t either of them. Gryffin says not to bother naming her. “She’s not real. She doesn’t need a name. When I find a cure she’ll be back to normal”. But I feel it’s weird not to call her something. I tried to combine the twin’s names but Chorence sounds weird and Farity sounds doubly so. I think for the time being I’ll call her Winnie. Little One suggested it and I think it sounds a little stupid but I couldn’t think of anything better.

Gryffin and Meriweather aren’t speaking to each other. Not that they have much opportunity to. Gryffin has been confining himself to Mia’s lab in order to brew an antidote to fix Winnie. How he thinks being down there is a good idea is beyond me, however Mia seems to be keeping so busy with the Boy that I doubt she even knows he’s there. And as for Meriweather she has been practically living in the Library. I found her sleeping on a pile of encyclopedias this morning. She thinks all of Gryffin’s experiments are a waste of time and believes only an erudite approach will be successful.

Whoever figures it out I hope they do it soon. Don’t get me wrong James there’s nothing especially bothersome about Winnie. But that’s kind of the problem. There is nothing really about her at all. She’s like a blank slate. I showed her up to the control room today and she just sat there. I never thought I would genuinely miss Charity’s cumulonimbus or Florence’s stupid obsession with the love songs. If this proceeds for much longer I will begin to worry for the fate of the House.

I will keep you updated on this as it progresses.

Worryingly yours,

M                                                   

[urgoingtomissthepantyraid-blog]

Animal Consumption - A Cruel Practice

Justification For Impossible Torture Many persons have explained with pleasure they are strong proponents of animal rights and so they seem to revere and respect animals into a high degree. I've sometimes wondered if these same folks may possibly have more respect for animals than people but that is another topic altogether. Many have actually gone so far as to essentially suggest for this writer that animals should be revered on just about the exact same level as humans. I am not sure about taking it to that particular amount, nevertheless I really do think that all pets are God's creation and should be treated with inflammation, pride, and value. However when it comes for the raising of animals for food this mindset is light years away from the specific modes and methods of the industry. The only factor in this billion dollar cash unit is the bottomline in pounds and dollars, and innocent creatures spend a dear price in terms of the unthinkable cruelty inflicted on them to be able to satisfy our insatiable bad desires. According to the "USDA Slaughter Stats" for 2008, over 18.5 billion animals were slaughtered (there is reasonable the word "slaughtered" does not sound very pleasant) and that figure rises every year. You may be sure that precious little consideration is going to be directed at some of the over 18 million animals which will die this season regarding the methods of raising then killing them. Many who talk about their love for animals change a deaf ear to this obvious and incomprehensible cruelty once they sit down to their normal ritual of gorging on the tissue of innocent animals.

The High-Cost of an Animal-Based Diet To begin with allow me to say that when the tissue of animals was essential for human success I would be the first ever to remain true and state that we ought to consume them, ideally using gentle programs of increasing and killing them. However, the fact is that eating animals isn't actually beneficial, much less necessary. It's actually the reason for the substantial increases in the rates of heart problems, cancer, diabetes, blocked arteries, swings, and high blood pressure. Therefore the hamburger you'll eat today can come at an extremely high-cost. The environment will suffer as excessive amounts of valuable natural resources are essential to raise the animal, as well as the animal can endure unspeakable humiliation, degradation and pain. Moreover the customer of the flesh will be having a long move towards more than one of the above mentioned infirmities. While in the high-stakes world of raising animals for human use the main element will be to press one of the most out of each dog for your least amount of money. Therefore whether you're chowing down on some poultry, poultry, pig, goose, cow, or some other dog, be reassured that your supper was probably kept in an area so little that it mightn't possibly change or take a nap and that is, incidentally, for the entirety of its cruelly shortened life. Lots of the creatures that you have eaten in the past and will consume later on, were obviously, not allowed the luxurious of a good little exercise within the totality of these living to ensure that every bit of energy that their tortured bodies developed went towards making flesh, eggs or milk. The massive corporation heads that are accountable for having your supper to Safeway, can see the more animals they pack in to a smaller area, the more mansions and automobiles they are able to get. Your Dinner Was Definitely Tortured In order to satisfy your ritual craving for animal skin, your "main course" was fed drugs and hgh to acquire it fatter faster and also to make sure it didn't die before it may "spend the piper". You see the living situations it had been subjected to would usually eliminate it were it not for the drugs. Your dinner was probably genetically mutated so it would be able to make more eggs, milk, or whiter skin. The type of cruelty your choice of animals for supper has endured is universal to all farmed animals although each type, whether they be birds, chickens, cows, pigs, turkeys or some other factory farmed animal has faced tortures exclusive to the way that market improves (it sickens me to utilize the word) them. Birds that suffer abuse so you might get your breakfast served over-easy are warehoused in cages no bigger than the space underneath your sink. These small cages which household upto seven hens are loaded in sections one on top of one other from the thousands. That is where these intelligent creatures will stay until they're slaughtered. They won't be let out for a day walk or even a stretch. They will not escape that box until they die. Your breakfast sausage was warehoused in a cage so tiny that it was not ready to show around or lay down perfectly for the entirety of its shortened life. The pigs you have enjoyed (that is the main reason you're fighting obesity and blocked arteries) are actually kind, wise sweet, curious, loving creatures who surely shouldn't wind up in your fork or stuck for your intestinal walls. When you have a bite from your "Flame Broiled Whopper" at lunch, understand that the cow that provided your pleasure (and your next heartattack) was castrated, and was put through marketing, and had its horns divided from its head. Be assured that the burger wont cost you one-dollar more due to these atrocities since the major firms did not spend anything on such things as pain killers before they ripped out the animals horns. And if it's the same for you I donot actually want to discuss how uncomfortable castration could be while still fully aware and without treatment. Drugged and Genetically Altered Clean your hamburger along with some great cold milk and sleep inside the fact the dairy cows were drugged and genetically manipulated to produce more milk then they were naturally able to. These were artificially inseminated so that they could have babies and thereby make milk, but ofcourse the park manufacturer didn't let all of your breakfast milk to go to the babies. These were taken from their whaling mother immediately after delivery and provided for veal farms where they will be stored in a cage too little to go for the remainder of their short lives. They will have their skin artificially bright therefore it seems more desirable to your taste, so when they have outgrown their extremely small cage (remember they have never been out of it one minute since being taken from their mother) they'll be slaughtered so you can have some tender veal plus a glass of wine at your favorite restaurant. Meanwhile their mom will be artificially inseminated again and the same process will be repeated until she is actually incapable of making any longer milk. She will bear all of this as well as encounter the most inhumane treatment possible awaiting time she's deemed to be no longer useful and after that she will be sent to the slaughterhouse. There is No Such Thing As HUMANE MEAT Every animal you have actually purchased at King Soopers has undergone an existence that's nothing lacking torture. Many would now create the event that they purchase only "Gentle Meat", or "Free Range Eggs" or "organic" milk and so they have assuaged their shame within the ritual usage of animals. Even if these animals were undoubtedly raised in an entirely humane system (they most likely weren't) there's for all practical uses no regulation in position to guard their slaughterhouse luck. If they have outgrown their effectiveness (which suggests their bodies are lost and used) they will be jampacked into trucks, not able to transfer, and driven over several miles in every possible severe weather condition. Many will not survive the trip that'll truly become a more merciful fate. Should they do make it alive-to the slaughterhouse they will likely encounter more than one of those injustices; strangling, beatings, skinning, scalding, and butchering while still fully conscious. Locate a Federal Meat Inspector or just the normal Joe who works inside the slaughterhouse if you need evidence of the above mentioned because if they are sincere they'll disclose to witnessing these heinous acts repeatedly. Please don't change a deaf ear for this since this definitely was the fate of the pet you will consume for supper tonight. If You Truly Love Pets the Solution Is Not Difficult You might be person who claims to love animals (and do) and even success their privileges but when you're an animal customer you are the explanation for unthinkable pain and cruelty to numerous of the innocents every single year. If it were your puppy or pet you'd have the whole scope of the law working for you if everyone were to so muchas consider hurting it. I can say with utmost confidence however, that the cow that's the primary program on your plate was also an exceptionally clever animal using a unique personality. It was supportive and dedicated and an incredible person. It certainly would have created a superb friend and companion no less suitable your pet, except that it'd eat more and wouldn't steer perfectly in the family room. You would likely be amazed to learn about the intelligence and unique personality traits of birds, hens, pigs, and other farm animals. If you truly knew more about the intelligence of these animals and their true natures you'd not easily be the explanation for their misery.

If you don't know, or WOn't know, your ignorance will continue to cause their torture. Regulations is working for you however and most certainly not privately of the farm animal. Large corporations have long since paid for the proper to go untold suffering on these fantastic pets, and have lobbied for your directly to allow you to think the rest that you need to consume these animals for health. Nothing may be more from your fact however, and I hope that in the very least you are willing to lose the blindfold of indifference and open your eyes to the brutal inhumane treatment of the creatures that share our planet. The sole answer would be to stop eating animal tissue. All you've got to lose is the diabetes and some excess weight. Become familiar with more about Animal Jam Codes

[scribblert-blog]

Animal Consumption - A Cruel Practice

Justification For Inconceivable Torture Many persons have said with pleasure they are strong supporters of animal rights and they seem to revere and value animals into a high degree. I have sometimes wondered if these same people might probably have more respect for pets than people but that's another matter altogether. Many have even gone as far as to basically indicate to this writer that pets must be recognized on almost the exact same level as humans. I'm unsure about taking it to that particular amount, nevertheless I really do believe that all animals are God's formation and may be treated with pain, dignity, and respect. However as it pertains to the raising of pets for food this mindset is light years away from the particular settings and customs of the. The only factor in this billion dollar money unit could be the important thing in pounds and cents, and innocent creatures spend a dear price with regards to the unimaginable cruelty inflicted to them so that you can fulfill our insatiable unhealthy desires. According to the "USDA Slaughter Stats" for 2008, over 18.5 billion animals were slaughtered (there's a good reason the phrase "slaughtered" doesn't sound very helpful) and that figure rises every year. You will be sure precious little concern will be directed at any of the over 18 billion animals which will die this season regarding the ways of increasing then killing them. Many who talk about their love for animals change a deaf ear to this obvious and incomprehensible cruelty once they sit down for their regular practice of gorging on the tissue of innocent animals.

The High Cost of an Animal Based Diet First of all I would like to say that when the flesh of animals was necessary for human survival I would be the first ever to stand-up and say that we should eat them, ideally using gentle techniques of raising and killing them. However, the fact is that eating creatures isn't actually beneficial, much less necessary. It's truly the reason for the substantial increases in the charges of heart disease, cancer, diabetes, clogged arteries, swings, and high blood pressure. Therefore the burger you will eat today will come at an incredibly high-cost. The surroundings are affected as excessive amounts of precious natural resources are essential to improve the pet, as well as the animal may endure unspeakable humiliation, degradation and pain. Furthermore the consumer of the tissue will be having a long step towards more than one of the above mentioned infirmities. While in the high stakes world of raising animals for human consumption the main element is to press one of the most from each pet for the least amount of cash. Consequently whether you are chowing down on some turkey, poultry, pig, goose, cow, or every other animal, be confident that your supper was probably kept in an area so little that it mightnot actually change or lay down which is, incidentally, for your whole of its brutally shortened life. Lots of the creatures that you have taken before and will consume in the future, were ofcourse, not allowed the true luxury of even a little exercise in the totality of these lifestyle to ensure that every bit of power that their tortured bodies made went towards providing tissue, eggs or milk. The large business heads which are responsible for getting your supper to Safeway, can see the more animals they pack in to a smaller house, the more mansions and vehicles they are able to purchase. Your Dinner Was Most Definitely Tortured To be able to fulfill your ritual desire for animal skin, your "main class" was fed medications and growth hormones to have it fatter faster and also to be sure it did not die before it might "spend the piper". You see the living situations it was afflicted by would normally destroy it were it not for your drugs. Your meal was probably genetically mutated therefore it will be able to create more eggs, dairy, or whiter skin. The type of cruelty your choice of pets for supper has experienced is common to all farmed animals though each type, whether they be hens, birds, cattle, pigs, turkeys or another factory farmed animal has experienced tortures exclusive to the way that sector increases (it sickens me to utilize the phrase) them. Birds that suffer punishment so that you will get your breakfast served over-easy are warehoused in cages no larger than the room underneath your sink. These tiny cages which property as much as eight chickens are stacked in layers one on top of one other by the hundreds. That is where these intelligent animals may live till they're slaughtered. They won't be discrete for a day walk or even a stretch. They will not get free from that box until they die. Your breakfast bread was warehoused in a cage so small that it was not ready to show around or take a nap perfectly for the whole of its shortened life. The pigs you have consumed (that is the reason why you are preventing obesity and clogged arteries) are actually kind, smart lovely, inquisitive, loving beings who truly shouldn't find yourself on your own pay or stuck to your intestinal walls. Whenever you have a bite from your "Flame Broiled Whopper" at lunch, understand that the cow that offered your luxury (as well as your next coronary attack) was castrated, and was put through marketing, and had its horns torn from its head. Rest assured that the burger wont cost you one-dollar more because of these atrocities since the major businesses did not spend anything on such things as painkillers before they ripped out the animals horns. And when it is yet to you I really don't even want to talk about how unpleasant castration could be while still totally informed and without pain relief. Drugged and Genetically Altered Wash your burger down with a few nice cold milk and relaxation in the fact the dairy cattle were drugged and genetically altered to make more milk then they were obviously able to. These were artificially inseminated so they may have babies and thus produce milk, but naturally the village manufacturer didn't let all of your breakfast milk to go to the babies. These were stolen from their whaling mother immediately after delivery and provided for veal farms where they will be situated in a cage too small to maneuver for the rest of these short lives. They will have their skin artificially bright so that it appears more desirable for your taste, and when they have outgrown their incredibly tiny cage (remember they've never been from it one-minute since being taken from their mother) they'll be slaughtered in order to have some tender veal plus a glass of wine at your favorite restaurant. Meanwhile their mother is going to be artificially inseminated again along with the same approach will be repeated until she is actually incapable of making any more milk. She will undergo all this and also experience the most inhumane treatment imaginable awaiting the time she's deemed to be no more useful and she will be provided for the slaughterhouse. There is No Such Thing As GENTLE BEEF Every animal you've actually purchased at King Soopers has encountered an existence that is nothing lacking torture. Many would now make the event that they buy only "Gentle Beef", or "Free Range Eggs" or "natural" milk and so they have assuaged their shame in the ritual use of animals. Even if these animals were really raised in an entirely humane system (they most likely weren't) there is for many practical reasons no regulation in position to safeguard their slaughterhouse luck. When they have outgrown their usefulness (this means their bodies are lost and used) they'll be jampacked into trucks, struggling to proceed, and motivated over many miles in every possible extreme weather condition. Many will not survive the trip that will really become a more merciful fate. If they do make it alive to the slaughterhouse they'll probably experience one or more of the injustices; strangling, beatings, skinning, scalding, and butchering while still fully informed. Look for a Federal Meat Inspector or simply the normal Joe who operates inside the slaughterhouse if you need confirmation of the aforementioned because if they're honest they will disclose to watching these heinous acts repeatedly. Please don't convert a deaf ear to the because this most certainly was the fate of the animal you'll eat for supper tonight. If You Actually Love Pets the Answer Is Not Difficult You may be one who claims to love animals (and really do) and also success their privileges but when you are an animal buyer you're the reason for unthinkable pain and cruelty to numerous of those innocents every single year. If it were your pet or cat you would have the full scope of the law working for you if anyone were to so muchas think of hurting it. I can say with utmost confidence however, the cow that is the primary program in your dish was also an incredibly intelligent animal having a unique personality. It had been loving and loyal and an amazing creature. It really would have created a fantastic friend and friend no less ideal your dog or cat, except that it'd eat more and would not control well inside the living room. You would probably be stunned to understand about the intelligence and specific character traits of chickens, hens, pigs, and other farm animals. If you actually understood more about the intelligence of these creatures as well as their true natures you would not readily be the explanation for their misery.

If you do not know, or WOn't know, then your ignorance will continue to cause their torture. Regulations is on your side however and certainly not on the side of the farm animal. Big organizations have long since taken care of the right to inflict untold suffering on these fantastic pets, and also have lobbied for the to make you feel the lie that you need to eat these animals for health. Nothing could be further from the reality however, and I hope that at the lowest you're ready to remove the blindfold of indifference and open your eyes to this brutal inhumane treatment of the animals that share our planet. The only answer is to stop eating animal flesh. All you need to lose is the diabetes and a few pounds. Get to know more about Animal Jam Codes