#in the fact that the map is awful and terrible and WHY do they insist on having enemies respawning in areas you need to revisit

[piecesofchess]

i know i keep complaining about it but why does pirate101 arc 2 suck soooooo bad

[gryffindors-weasley]

Thoughtful Affection

Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Summary: Colin always finds himself kissing you without second thought behind it, but sometimes there are kisses shared more thoughtfully than that.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: just fluff, kissing

A/N: A sweet little idea inspired by my lovely Mille @iliveiloveiwrite <3

Colin Bridgerton was undoubtedly the sweetest man you have ever known, and certainly romantic without question. Not a day would go by where he hadn’t made it abundantly clear that he was utterly in love with you, the mere thought of that happening having been one that was preposterous. He loved you so wholly, even, that he found himself doing so as if it were second nature.

One

You stretched for the first time in hours as you awoke that morning, muscles stiff and tired from having laid tangled in one spot for far too long with the love of your life. The day had been utterly melancholy from the very moment you cast your eyes upon the window, trickles of raindrops having trailed down the chilled window panes lining the walls of your room. Not to mention, the heavy patter that had consistently pelted against your home was far too obvious to ignore.

Days like those had been rather perfect, however, providing ample enough reason to stay within the warmth of ruffled blankets and sheets in the arms of your love for that much longer. Besides, who wants to work on a day like this very one anyway?

Your attention is soon brought from the window to the very grip that had squeezed tighter around your waist, a chaste kiss pressed just below your jaw. The action brought the softest of smiles to your face, a laugh falling from your lips at the tickle against your skin. Ruffled curls of brown hair had brush over your cheek as he lifted his head, his eyes barely open and you were quite sure he had barely even been awake. Regardless, the sight was entirely sweet either way.

His cheek was rosy from having been pressed against his pillow, his hair dipping over his eyes. The very tips of your fingers combed through his hair gingerly, trailing down to trace lightly over his cheek, to smooth over his chin. You hadn’t missed the way he leaned into your touch, nor did you miss the smile tugging ever so sleepily at the corners of his mouth. He fought desperately against his fatigue to open his eyes, his smile widening within the first moment of seeing you.

His lips were quick to press on yours, languid and gentle and the first of many that day. It was an act without thought behind it, routine one might say. Each and every morning without fail, a kiss is shared in the first fleeting moments of the day. One is always inevitably turned to two, two to four, four until you’ve managed to pull yourselves from the comfort of your bed to start the day ahead. It always proved to be a hefty task, but one you never minded in the slightest.

“I thought you were trying to take your leave from my arms, love,” he mumbles, a soft laugh to follow as his nose nudges against yours.

“As if you’d let me,” you murmur, smiling blissfully at the feel of his lips pressing along your cheek.

“Can you blame me?” He asks, words muffled against your skin as a shiver runs through you. It was one he very much notices, tugging the blanket up further though the warmth of his arms would always undoubtedly suffice.

You simply sigh in amusement, your sigh turning to a laugh as his fingers dance across your hip. The simple sound had made his heart flutter, though he will admit it wouldn’t take very much for you to do just that.

“Surely we must—” he starts, interrupted by a yawn, “we must not have plans if the weather is so awful, right?”

“That would simply be ridiculous,” you mumble, sleep having had its hold on you once more.

A kiss is pressed blindly to the corner of his mouth, a hum leaving your lips as you tuck yourself against him comfortably. No further words needed to be spoken to know that the morning would be spent in that very bed, the way you’d rested your head in the crook of his neck was telling enough.

“I love you,” he whispers softly, tenderly.

“I love you.”

Two

The day had been rather busy compared to most others, Colin’s study having looked as though a tornado had swept through the room without a moment’s notice. Papers and maps had lay sprawled nearly anywhere the eye could see, some crumpled and some lay neatly stacked on the mahogany desk. Some are hanging to signify their absolute importance and some remain scattered on the floor without care to pick them up in the current moment.

Several books from the towns library sit stacked on an area of free space, though there was minimal real estate left on the large desk to begin with. You had to step in before he tipped over a half empty bottle of ink onto a map he’d been so keen to use.

“Colin, you don’t have to be quite so stressed, love. I’m sure taking a moment to breathe will be just fine,” you sigh, a smile playing on your lips when he stops shuffling through papers and spares you the fondest of glances.

“I want this trip to be perfect, darling. I shall relax once I am in better standing with this planning,” he huffs, running his hand through his hair for what was surely the hundredth time.

You sigh softly and purse your lips, watching him lick the tip of his finger to scan through a book at the top of the pile. Black ink smudged and stained the cuff of his shirt, and you knew that simply wouldn’t come out at this point, his jacket strewn over the back of the chair. He was ever so hard on himself when it came to the planning of your travels; he felt everything must be perfect though it really didn’t need to be. It could be a trip as spontaneous as the journey to the bakery in town and you’d still cherish it for days and weeks to come. But Colin had been stubborn, insisting it should be wondrous.

You watched as he sorted through the pile of books he’d accumulated, watching his cheeks stain pink and his chest heave with a soft huff. It was a sight entirely too precious.

“You are terribly cute when you’re flustered, do you know that?” You ask, brushing the hair out of his eyes. It was then that he paused his actions if only for just a brief moment, his hand coming up to rest warmly over top of your own. His smile was something most enamoring, dimpled and sweet as he dropped his quill to the desk.

“And darling, you are terribly cute all the time,” he says, the pad of his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. His shoulders slumped as he kissed your palm, parting from you to grab his jacket. “I must return to the library, there’s just one more book that I know I will need, I promise.”

You sigh softly and tilt your head, a smile gracing your lips nonetheless. “It is almost closing time, you know.”

He slips on his jacket and grumbles at the sight of the ink stains on his shirt. “And that is just why I must make haste.”

He smiles tenderly as he kisses you goodbye, catching the corner of your mouth in his hurried state but he is ever so quick to dip down and kiss you fully, his hand lingering in your own for a few moments longer. He doesn’t want to leave, he never does, but he knows he just won’t relax until he retrieves the very book weighing heavy on his mind.

“Hurry back?” You call after him.

“Assuredly, my love!”

Three

The Bridgerton family home was quiet for perhaps the first time that day, it’s bustling and energetic family members having since gone to bed for the night. Everyone had come together for a visit back home, only Hyacinth and Gregory having yet to leave the nest. It was nice to be in everyone’s presence once more, having brought you back to the times you’ve spent with the family ever since you’d been a child. Yet, even years later, having married the love of your life and moved to your very own estate, it felt as though nothing had changed.

The two of you found yourselves tucked away on the terrace that’d overlooked the garden, the stars above you beaming bright as they speckled across the sky. It was tremendously beautiful, and you’d argue it was the best place to gaze above you in all of London—the second being the gardens of your own home.

You could see the tops of every flower, their beauteous scent wafting your way each and every time the breeze blows. Said breeze brings with it the sound of the leaves in nearby trees, wind chimes singing in response to the weather. Not a single cloud hung in the sky as you focused your attention upwards, the cool spring wind washing over your skin as your hand lay enveloped with Colin’s. Your head rested on his shoulder, his rested on your own as he was content to just merely sit with you. This was all he ever truly needed. Not fancy soirées or expensive dinners, not elaborate outings and ballroom dances. This is all he wanted.

Simple moments were most cherished, ones where few words needed to be spoken. Just your presence alone was something that makes him forever content, no matter what it is you’re doing. You hadn’t needed to even be paying attention to him, really, just having you there was leaps and bounds better than not. That fact had always remained true for all the time that he’s known you, he knows that for certain.

Your free hand had been busy fumbling with the button on his shirt cuff, an action entirely absentminded yet one that had brought the softest of smiles to his face nonetheless. He didn’t even mind the way your hair blew and tickled just under his nose; the minor inconvenience was worth it so long as you were comfortable. Even the cement of the balcony you sat on wasn’t enough for him to be displeased.

“Have you ever wondered just how many stars there are in the sky?” You ask softly, curiously, a laugh leaving his lips.

“I suppose it has crossed my mind a few times,” he murmurs, amusement in his voice as he gives your hand a squeeze. Your own smile is instant at the feeling, at the very sound of his laugh for that matter. “Do you wish to know something?”

You hum in response, shifting your head to look at him better. His smile was tender as he thought of the words residing on the very tip of his tongue, his fingertips dancing overtop the back of your hand. You hadn’t missed the breathy laugh he exhaled, though you weren’t privy to the look of utter fondness on his expression.

“I love you a thousand times for each star that sits in the sky,” he murmurs, his declaration certain and true. “And a thousand times more.”

Your heart flutters at his words, his foot nudging yours to accompany his statement.

“Do you wish to know something?” You ask, lifting your head to look at him fully.

“Enlighten me,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

You grin adoringly at him, at the way his eyes sparkled in the glowing moonlight and the way he looked at you as if you were the center of the very universe. “I love you a million times for each star that sits in the sky. And a million times more.”

It was far too dark out to see the way a soft crimson stained his cheeks the very same way yours had been. But not enough to miss the way his gaze upon you became impossibly more loving as he blinked at you slowly, tiredly. It was rather late after all, the day having been busy with a family that’d been a handful, a wonderful handful at that.

“You really are something, do you know that?” He beams, his expression amused.

“I do indeed.”

He laughs then, quiet and sleepy as his nose bumps against your own and his breath fans warmly over your skin in contrast to the chill of the air. “Should we go to bed now?”

You sigh softly, contently, hand squeezing his. “I’ll meet you there in a moment.”

He simply nods, taking in a few more seconds with you until you part briefly. Then, a kiss is pressed to your lips, chaste and fleeting and one given without second thought. A good night kiss is one always shared without fail, no matter the circumstance.

“Good night, darling,” he murmurs.

“Good night.”

One

The ballroom once filled with boisterous and jovial guests had since been quieted upon the end of the event, concluding the need to be ever so proper and talkative with each and everyone who’d commented on your estate. Scuff marks had remained on the floors from the hours of dancing and socializing, empty cups of lemonade remaining on once lavishly decorated tables. Flowers had been plucked from their arrangements from suitors and gifted to debutants, a few of their petals remaining scattered across the hardwood floors in a snow of soft pinks and creams.

It had been an event most successful, better than you could have imagined for only having hosted twice prior to that evening. Though you will admit, you did have the help from the lovely Mrs. Bridgerton. You owe every compliment to her if you were being honest, for she had a certain style that had been unable to be recreated, unable to be outdone. All of London would be in agreement with such a statement. As beautiful and seamless as everything had been, you would be lying if you said it hadn’t been a relief it had all come to a close for the night.

The room seemed to triple in size now that it’d been just the two of you, Colin having shooed away any and all who’d tried to clean up. It was far too late for even the two of you to be awake, and he felt as though no one should have to clean up such a grand mess at that late of an hour. It would simply be cruel.

“We did it,” you sigh, twirling to face him with a tired smile. “I think perhaps this just might have been our best ball.”

He smiles adoringly, dimples absolutely adorable as they make their appearance. “You did it.”

A blush burns your cheeks as he takes your hands, pulling you close for the first time in what felt like ages that night having been tied up in socializing. His blue velvet jacket had since been discarded, draped over the back of a miscellaneous chair. The top few buttons of his shirt had been undone, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You were tired as you wrapped your arms around his neck loosely, your smile soft yet fond all the same. “You flatter me, my love.”

“You must know, I am simply telling the truth,” he murmurs, dipping down to press a kiss to your cheek, one to your jaw, and one just under your ear. You laugh out softly and push at his shoulders, biting the inside of your cheek in a pitiful effort to hide your smile.

His arms tighten their hold around you, twirling you once and leaving your squeal to echo in the room. Your laughter mingled between the two of you, breath dancing warmly on flushed skin in the closeness of your proximity. There was not a moment that went by with him that had been dull, you were sure of it, and you knew there never would be.

“Well, I am simply telling you that I love you,” you say, your grin beaming. “Tremendously.”

His smile is pressed to your lips as he kisses you, tender and true as he lips meld with your own. Your laughter dissolves into the moment of affection, the feeling letting loose a thousand butterflies to flutter within his stomach. It was gentle and languid, the utmost of love poured into one single kiss. When he parted he decided he wasn’t quite finished yet, pressing one, two, three more kisses upon your lips.

“I love you,” he whispers, “tremendously,” kiss, “assuredly,” and another, “entirely.”

Your grin turns soft as your eyes flutter closed, the moment having been all too dizzying and full of bliss to do just anything else. There you stood, in your very own home with the love of your life. It was wonderful, it was enchanting, it was a life so beautifully yours.

—

Tags: @dreaming-about-fanfictions @heloisedaphnebrightmore @writeroutoftime @awritingtree

[dragonsareourfuture]

Death Note/GN!Reader — Pick Up Lines

A quick little scenario in which your Death Note sweetheart uses a terrible pick up line on you! I feel as though these all kinda suck since I write this a while ago but it’s fine. It’s fine.

Mello

Staying up late every night and watching security footage was not fairing well for Mello. Dark circles started to form underneath his eyes, and you pointed out that he was turning into L, all he needed was black hair and a haircut. He simply responded “The day I cut my hair short is the day the world ends.”

Usually when Mello got tired he would turn into a grumpy, adorable gremlin but, mixed with the excessive amount of chocolate he consumed due to boredom, he had turned loopy. Matt had relied on his headphones to keep him sane, whereas you were left with no escape from the babbling blond.

Mello rambled on and on about how he was going to beat Near with every fiber of his being, slowly getting sidetracked into a conversation about sheep.

“They’re so fucking fluffy. Standing around, eating grass, taunting me.” The blond mumbled, his head resting on your lap as you stroked his hair, listening with genuine interest.

“Mhmm, how do they taunt you?” you inquired, wanting to know more before your boyfriend fell asleep and you never got to find out why he felt so threatened by white, fluffy animals.

“They just...do  .”

“Well, I’ll always keep you safe from the mean, mean sheep.”

Mello shifted so that he was gazing up at you. He lifted his hand to your face and gently smacked your cheek with his palm, rubbing his tired eyes with the other hand.

“Aw, babe you’re so sweet when you talk like that... You make me melt like chocolate in the summer~ ”

“I do what?”

Before Mello could answer, unconsciousness grasped him and pulled him down into the dimension of sleep. You sighed, disappointed that you wouldn’t get to hear more, yet also relieved that Mello could finally get the sleep that he needed.

“G’night, Mels,” You whispered, brushing his bangs to the side and kissing his forehead, “You make me melt, too.”

Matt

Matt’s been acting strangely clingy all day. As soon as you noticed this fact, you immediately figured that it was an anniversary or either one of your birthdays and it had slipped your mind. However, upon further inspection of your phone calendar, today appeared to be nothing special.

You were seated on the couch, watching a bit of television while Matt washed the dishes. You had insisted that you could handle that task yourself, but the goggle-wearing sweetheart had insisted that you relax.

Suddenly you heard the sink turn off and footsteps lead up to the couch. You turned around to see the redhead wrapping his arms around your shoulders from behind.

“Hey, I lost my phone number...can I have yours? ” He asked with a sly smile.

“Matt, you have my number. Is that a pickup line? You know we’re already dating, right? Is my number not working?” You interrogated, grabbing his phone from the coffee table and calling your cell from it to ensure that your phone number still worked.

“No- it’s... you’re supposed to go along with it!”

“Well, come up with a better one next time, dumb ass,” You tossed Matt’s phone back at him, the device landing in his lap. He pouted and shoved it into his jacket pocket, getting up to return to the kitchen.

“You’re no fun.”

L

The room grew dim and increasingly empty as the hours ran further into the day, eventually turning to night. Despite the signs that you should be on your way home, you stayed with the only detective who thought it appropriate to work into the ungodly hours of the night.

You glanced over at L, back turned to you with his nose practically pressed against the computer screen. You rolled your eyes and switched on the main light of the room, saying, “You’re gonna ruin your eyes reading in the dark like that.”

L did not respond but, at the looks of it, kept on reading the minuscule words on his screen with intent.

“Do you need anything? Water? Maybe some cake?” You asked, giggling at the end of your words for no other reason than the tiredness getting to your brain.

“No, thank you.  I already have you, and you’re sweeter than cake, anyway,” L droned matter of factly, not even tearing his eyes away from the luminescent screen.

“Awww! Oh my god, L!” You squealed, running up to L and enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug.

“Ah...(name), I c-can’t breathe...”

Near

You could practically hear the blood flow to your brain as you spun around in a desk chair at painful hours of the night. The screens that filled the SPK headquarters shone in your eyes, keeping you awake along with the unhealthy amounts of caffeine you had consumed.

Your white haired boyfriend sat crouched on the floor by your feet. The clicking of building blocks rang throughout the otherwise empty room as he stacked them on top of one another, paying no mind to anything else.

You sighed, placing your chin on the palm of your hand and deflating on the spot. No amount of caffeine could keep you here as late as Near always stayed, no matter how much you wanted it to. You hated that he was here alone all the time and, even though he always tried to convince you that he didn’t care, you knew it took a toll on his mental state.

You shifted in your chair, about to heave your body up when Near’s monotonous voice kept you still.

“(Name).”

You waited for him to continue, and spoke up when he stayed silent, “What’s up, babe?”

“Do you like LEGO ?” Near inquired. His eyes finally met yours as he twirled a LEGO piece in between his fingers.

“Uh, I guess—“

“Because I want to build a world with you... ”

You froze, wondering if the caffeine was getting to your head or if Near had actually used a pickup line on you — and a goddamn adorable one at that.

A weak smile tugged at your lips. You slid off the office chair and dropped to your knees on the cold tile beside Near, throwing your arms around the boy without another word.

Though he stiffened at first, Near melted under your embrace. He buried his face into your shoulder and wrapped his noodle arms around your torso. You stayed like this for either a minute, or an hour. It was so quiet that you could hear your hearts beating in sync. Everything was so perfect, so loving, so-

“ARE YOU GUYS STILL HERE!?”

Your heart nearly burst from your chest at the sound of a door banging against metal and the rough tone of Rester calling out to you.

Near grumbled and shoved his face into your neck, trying and failing to escape the booming echo of footsteps that approached your little heap on the floor.

“Yeah,” your voice came out ragged and small, but enough for Rester to hear and follow, “right here.”

“You both look exhausted! Come on, let’s get you to sleep.”

When Near barely moved a muscle, you took it upon yourself to pick up his limp body from the floor bridal style and carry him to bed. Though you almost dropped the poor boy more than once, you’d say you did a fairly good job. And, once you were both snuggled up in bed, you got a good nights rest of a solid three hours of sleep. It was the most Near’s gotten in weeks, so you were not complaining.

Light

Though you were already in a relationship with Light, the cheesy lines and swooning from him never ceased. You wouldn’t have to fend him off with a stick but he loved to be all over you even when he already won you over, and you loved that about him.

This was mainly exhibited when you two were alone together, him finding public displays of affection to be childish and overall unnecessary as everyone you hung around with at school respected your relationship quite nicely.

The two of you were strolling on the sidewalk after a headache inducing day of school. His arm was resting lazily over your neck as you walked while all attention was focused on you and you alone. You ranted about the difficulties of the day and, although they were mostly all minor inconveniences, they really got under your skin once all added up.

When you had finished, you huffed and rubbed at your temple.

Breaking the silence that followed, Light blurted,  “How would you like to be the goddess of the new world?  You wouldn’t have to deal with that crap anymore.”

You laughed, reaching up to lace your fingers with the hand that dangled by your shoulder. “Dude, I barely know what taxes are. I don’t think I can handle being a goddess.”

“Aw, that’s a shame,” Light pouted jokingly.

The two of you came to a stop in front of his house, him pulling you flush against him and just staring wistfully (up/down) at you. “Do you want to come in? I’m sure Sayu will be delighted to see you.”

“Oh, I’d love to but I don’t want to intrude—“

“Nonsense. Come on.”

And so, Light guided you into his home, his mother and Sayu cheerfully greeting you at the door and whisking you away into a night of wonderful conversation and a lovely dinner.

Matsuda

You took advantage of the daylight, working nonstop so that you wouldn’t have to stay after hours to get your unfinished work done.

Through your tireless efforts, you failed to notice a pair of familiar eyes glancing back at you every so often. You only noticed a change in your boyfriend’s behavior when he came rolling up to your desk in his wheely chair, resting his chin on his elbows and looking at you expectantly.

“Hey, what’s up, Teddy Bear?” You greeted, barely tearing your eyes from the papers splayed out all across your desk.

Matsuda grinned from ear to ear every time he heard that nickname. It made him feel wanted and loved whenever he was around you. Sometimes, this caused the filter between his brain and his mouth to thin, allowing whatever he’s thinking in that moment to slip out.

“Do you have a map? Because I’m getting lost in your eyes... ” he said dreamily.

Your head shot up in an instant, puzzled by the seemingly random affection, only to see Matsuda covering his lips as a dark blush began to rise on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Th-that’s not...I-“

“Honey...” you shook your head and sighed, placing your pen down flat on the desk, “That is the literal worst line ever but it sounds wonderful coming from you.”

“O-oh. Thanks?” He chuckled nervously, massaging the back of his neck as his skin became slick with sweat.

You leaned over the desk and pecked his lips before collecting your paperwork in a neat stack, placing it all carefully in your shoulder bag, careful not to bend any corners. “Why don’t I finish my work in that nice little coffee shop across the street. Join me?”

“Y-yes! I’d love to. It’s getting a little stuffy in here, anyway.”

Misa

“Ughhhhh I’m so tired! What a day!” Misa exclaimed, stretching out her arms above her head as she walked over to her folding chair. The white, feathery wings fastened to her back smacked people and equipment as she passed them, but you saw her as nothing but elegant.

Your girlfriend plopped her butt down into the fragile chair, giving Matsuda a scare when it nearly toppled over. With beads of sweat trickling down his forehead, he handed the girl her coffee.

“Aw, thanks, Matsu! And you too, (Name)! I wouldn’t be able to do any of my scenes without you guys cheering me on!”

You chuckled, cheeks turning a dusted shade of pink at Misa’s praise. “Dont give us all the credit, babe. You’re the one giving your all up there.”

Misa twisted in her chair to grab at your hand and intertwine her fingers with yours. “You’re too sweet, honey! Y’know, if it were up to me, you’d be the one wearing these wings!”

“Oh, I don’t know, I couldn’t take your place!” You said, gesturing to the fountain where Misa’s scene had just been filmed.

The blonde giggled and brought your fingers to her lips, giving them a couple kisses before shaking her head. “I meant I’d have you in these wings because you’re an absolute Angel , silly!”

Before you could even begin to respond, Matsuda beat you to it. “Aww my gosh, you guys! Could I be the best man at your wedding?”

“Hmm...” you pretended to ponder while tapping your chin with your index finger. “How do you feel about being the flower boy?”

“Done!”

[randomfandomimagine]

Love’s Worth Running To. Chapter 2: Catch Up

Pairing: Barry Allen x Stephanie Williams (OC)

Fandom: Justice League / DCEU

.

⬅ PREVIOUS CHAPTER • CHAPTER INDEX • NEXT CHAPTER ➡

AO3

A/N: A few disclaimers about the series. One: this is a first draft and some little things may change, and also forgive any typos as I will be editing the series more during the second draft. Secondly, I’m not a hardcore DC fan so I might get some things about the characters wrong, bear with me with that.

Anyway, here’s chapter two, I hope you like it! Things are starting to really set into motion and after this chapter they get a little crazy, even more so than at the end of this one. 

Remember to give this some love, please reblog and leave feedback! It would make my week! 🙏💜

His feet rhythmically drag along the ground, shuffling as he sways and snaps his fingers. The music loudly plays in his earphones, drowning out the sound of the elevator as it comes to a halt. He can’t hear the soft murmur of voices as the Justice League chats in the Batcave, reunited there one more day. The dark room feels brighter as he walks further into it and the team comes into his field of vision.

“Clap along if you feel…” Barry nods his head along to the song and points to Victor. “Like happiness is the truth”

Victor stares at him, frowning in confusion. He makes to lift his hands and clap, but ultimately doesn’t. He only glances at Diana, who chuckles at Barry’s good mood.

Bruce calmly makes a gesture, asking for Barry to remove his earphones. When he does, letting them fall and hang off his shirt’s neckline, he grins.

“Good morning!” He cheerfully says, but the group doesn’t reply. “What?”

After a brief pause and a few glances, it is Bruce who speaks up.

“Who’s the girl?”

“What girl?”

“You’re singing...” Arthur eyes the boy. “And dancing”

“So? Can’t I just be happy in this beautiful day?”

“There’s definitely a girl” His friend insists. “Spit it out”

Barry pouts and looks at each of them. The way they fondly stare at him fluster him a little, but he doesn’t really mind talking about her. In fact, it feels like a good thing to share his excitement with his friends.

“Her name’s Steph” Barry sighs with a dreamy sigh, but hurriedly corrects himself when he sees their even fonder expressions. “I-It’s nothing like that, though”

“What is it like then?” Diana asks, grinning in amusement.

“We’re old friends, but we haven’t seen each other in… like… more than ten years” Barry takes deep breath, overwhelmed by that rush again as he remembers the moment he spotted Stephanie Williams. “It was so cool to see her again”

“Why did you grow apart?” Clark wonders, crossing his arms over his chest. “Did your lives go different ways?”

“Not exactly…” Barry suddenly grows bleak, overcome with frantic memories.

That dreadful day in which all happened and he never saw her again. He didn’t even get to say goodbye, and all the things left unsaid still burn intensely inside him. Knowing that is all part of the past now and he will se her soon, he forces to forget about it.

Knowing the other noticed his brief change of demeanor, he claps his hands and changes the subject.

“But anyway! What are we doing today? Anything new?”

“Maybe” Bruce responds, even if he sends a quick look at the rest with the corner of his eye. “There have been some strange things happening around”

“Like what?”

“Glitches and minor crimes” Victor projects an image on the air, of a map of the surveilled cities with some red spots on them that mark the occurrences. “They’re all over the cities”

“Something bad?” Barry frowns, his eyes scanning the map.

“Nothing big, but we want to keep an eye out” Clark nods. “Just in case”

“Should we check it out?” The boy asks him, earning another nod from him.

“It won’t hurt” Bruce adds to, tapping the table in anticipation.

“Let’s suit up then” Barry speeds off, always bearing Stephanie in mind despite it all.

And so the Justice League prepares to exit the Batcave on a small routine mission.

_

When she looks at the clock, it’s already past 3pm. Stephanie clicks her tongue in mild annoyance and rushes to gather her things. She doesn’t want to be late.

“Bye, Ben!” Stephanie is almost at the door when he replies.

“Where are you going?” Ben does a double take, not believing his eyes when he looks at the clock. “You’re not staying late?”

“Do I…?” She mutters hesitantly. “Do I have to?”

“No, no” He fondly chuckles. “It’s just odd, do you have anything else to do?”

“Actually…” Stephanie can’t help but to grin, even if eager butterflies release in her stomach once more. To hide her thrill, she looks down and plays with her hands. “I’m meeting an old friend and… I’m honestly really excited to see him again”

“Oh, that explains it” Ben warmly grins. “Well, have fun!”

“Thanks!” Stephanie grins, bearing that wide genuine smile she showed the other day.

As he watches his coworker run off like a child on an adventure, Ben’s smile slowly fades as her previous presence now leaves room for a cold empty absence. A tiny pang of jealousy prickles the back of his neck.

_

Lazy clouds cover the sun, attempting to shadow its light. They threaten to flood the sky in darkness more and more with each passing second. Still, the day feels brighter than most. At least to Stephanie.

She rhythmically hits her nails against the glass surface of the table. Her eyes are directed to the door one more. Where is he? A heavy weight has settled in her chest. She chews on her fingernails. What if he doesn’t show up?

Soon enough, Barry comes barging in, out of breath and looking disheveled. He’s late, but he’s there. The girl stands up and takes a deep breath of relief.

“Hi” She greets him, earning an apologetic smile from him.

“I’m so sorry, Steph” He hurries to the table, nervously combing his hair with his fingers. “You wouldn’t believe the day I had”

“It’s okay” Despite his lateness, he notices, she’s smiling. Barry awkwardly chuckles as they both stand there.

Stephanie bites her lip, wondering how to act around him. Time has cooled their once close and nonchalant relationship, but she is determined to warm up to it again. Although they have known each other since they were little, they feel like strangers at the same time. They don’t know the other anymore, but they’re adamant on changing that. Besides, she still feels as comfortable with him as before, like not a day as gone by.

“Well, hi” Barry opens his arms, going on for a hug, just at the same time that Stephanie is leaning close to him in order to greet him with a kiss on the cheek. Noticing this, they awkwardly pull away between embarrassed chuckles. In the end, and after a few more seconds of stuttering and fidgeting, Barry finally holds his hand out. Stephanie smiles and shakes it.

Happily plopping down on the chair, he sighs and stares at her. When she sits down in front of him, her fingers absently trace across the edge of the table that separates them. The tension looms above their heads until he breaks it with his cheerful energy.

“Stephanie Williams” Barry says in awe, fondly tilting his head and peering at her.

“Barry Allen” She reciprocates, smiling as the name of her beloved friend fills her lips.

“So talk to me, Steph, um…” He puckers his lips in a thoughtful gesture. “How’s your day going?”

“Good, it’s good so far…” She nods, not knowing what else to say. “And yours?”

“Great! A bit frantic, but… good” He bites his lips, awkwardly lingering as well. “Good...”

“Tell me!” Barry starts. “What have you been doing? I haven’t since you since...”

“Since we moved to Metropolis...”

“Well, yeah... I never really found out why that happened”

“My parents insisted on leaving Central City” Stephanie gravely nods, averting her eyes. “They said what happened with your mom was affecting me too much”

Barry quiets, watching her with a frown. He opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn’t find the right words to express the extent and variety of his current feelings.

“I’m so sorry…” He drags his hand across the table, reaching out to pat hers as it now rests on the surface of the table. However, and after a second of hesitation, Barry decides not to touch her. “I had no idea…”

“It wasn’t your fault, Barry. You were having a hard time already”

“Yeah, but…”

“It’s okay, I just… I hated seeing you suffer like that”

The two lock gazes, and an unnamed emotion shines in both their eyes. Like a wave has washed out all the deeply buried memories, a weight settles on their shoulders. One that they had been carrying since childhood and they had nearly forgotten about. Now it has returned, just like that. In only a second.

Trying to brush it off, Stephanie smiles. Like the gesture makes him happy, he grins too.

“So how is your dad?” She asks in a friendly tone. Barry’s smile slowly fades, only to be replaced with a melancholic frown. Stephanie is hit with realization. “Oh, so he’s still… I’m so sorry, Barry… I thought…”

It had been years since that terrible thing happened, and knowing of his innocence Stephanie hoped the situation would have changed by now. She’s unfortunately wrong. The girl groans in frustration, mentally scolding herself for not having thought about that possibility before speaking. Barry shakes his head and mindlessly waves his hand in the air. He smiles again, although this time it’s obviously a facade.

“It’s okay” Barry says, but he can’t hide the sad hint to his expression. “I go see him almost every day”

“Is he doing okay?” She cautiously asks, knowing how hard the situation must be for the two of them.

“For the most part, yeah…” His crestfallen look breaks her heart, and so Stephanie wrecks her head to find a more light-headed subject to talk about.

“O-Order” She rushes to say, holding her hand up in the air to catch the waitress attention. “We should order something to drink”

Barry chuckles at her attempt, nodding his head in silent agreement. When the waiter arrives, it’s the girl that speaks for the both of them.

“Um, yeah, hi” She looks up at the blond waiter. “I’ll have a coffee and he’ll have a chocolate milkshake”

“I’m not a child anymore, Steph” He playfully rolls his eyes. “I can order my own chocolate milkshake”

Stephanie laughs out loud, surprised by his retort. Barry fondly grins at her reaction.

_

Their shared chocolate milkshake has nearly run out. The cream at the top has melted as the liquid reaches the bottom of the container. Their identical pink frosted sprinkled donuts are half eaten, left forgotten in their small plates for the time being.

“Oh, hey!” Barry utters, changing the subject from his criminal justice major. “Did you get your own lab yet?”

Barry lets go of his red and white straw once he’s done sipping while Stephanie absently plays with hers.

“No…” She pouts a little, soon recovering part of her usual spark. “But I’m an intern at STAR Labs”

“That’s great!” He gulps, nearly chocking on the milkshake. “That brings you a step closer!”

“Yeah, I guess… I’m just so impatient to get there”

“You’ll get there” He carelessly waves his hand in the air. “I’ve got no doubts about it”

Stephanie smiles, feeling that once familiar warmth spread through her. There’s that unconditional support he showed her years ago. They haven’t talked in so long, but his unwavering faith on her hasn’t shifted.

A silence establishes after, although the frequency and intensity of them has lessened over the course of the afternoon. She picks up tiny pieces of the donut with her fingers and puts them in her mouth. Barry, meanwhile, absently nibbles on his donut, letting his eyes wander around the quaint establishment, before he boldly pipes up again.

“Are you seeing someone?” Stephanie chokes on the crumbs on her mouth at Barry’s question.

“What?” She coughs, sipping the last of the milkshake to shove the crumbs down.

“Sorry, I…” He chuckles, trying to conceal his amusement. “I was just wondering…”

Stephanie chuckles too, more surprised by the question than offended that he’s so obviously trying not to laugh at her.

“Well?” He says, bearing a playful tone that she had dearly missed. “Answer the question, Steph!”

“Actually… no” She shrugs a little, embarrassed to admit it. “It’s been a bit hard to connect with people”

“How so?” Barry turns serious once more, frowning as he intently listens.

“I don’t know… I’m just trying to pick up where I left off and…”

Stephanie leaves the sentence hanging in the air, but she doesn’t need to complete it. Barry nods. He understands what she means, even in a way that she can’t imagine.

“Well, you’re in luck, miss Williams” He says in a silly voice. “Because I am here to save the day”

“My hero” Stephanie replies, placing a hand on her chest in feigned bewilderment.

They both smile at each other, lingering on their reciprocated gazes. The spark between them has been rekindled, and they can feel it softly beating in their hearts.

_

It is with great sadness that they must say goodbye. They can’t stay there forever, as much as they’d like to. Still, it’s a bit easier to say farewell knowing they have each other’s numbers now and will meet again soon. They get up from the chairs slowly, putting the moment off as much as they possibly can.

Barry takes the jacket for her, holding it in the air to make it easier for Stephanie to put it on. She smiles, endeared by the chivalrous gesture, and shoves her arms on the sleeves.

“Thank you” Stephanie says as he also holds the door open for her.

The air outside is slightly chilly, and the clouds have darkened in the sky, perhaps announcing a storm. Reeling in the rush that still lingers from the lovely soiree with Barry, Stephanie looks up, unfazed by the gray clouds gathering before the sun. When she peers down again, she catches Barry’s eye.

“Barry” She laughs. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You did change” He replies with a frown, although it’s not exactly a sad one.

“How have I changed?”

“I don’t know… there’s something about you”

“Wisdom and maturity?”

“Maybe…” Barry smiles, hiding his actual thoughts. Ever since they were reunited, he has noticed a certain tint of sadness hanging over Stephanie. He doesn’t dwell too much on it, though, because it’s been slowly fading away as the afternoon advances.

“What about you? You’re not so shy anymore”

“Oh, I’m still shy” The shadow that had darkened his expression disappears, replaced with his usual affable expression. “I just hide it better”

“Are you sure you’re not just shy but you’re too embarrassed to admit it?”

“I’m pretty sure” Barry is replying, grinning as he sees her smiling. “I’m...”

He then trails off, never finishing his sentence. Something’s wrong, he can feel it. His eyes are directed to the traffic light not far from them. The lights aren’t changing, stuck on green. On every traffic light. His instinct kicks in before his brain can comprehend what his body is doing.

“Barry, what’s…” Stephanie his cut off by his urgent movement. Before she can wrap her head around what is happening, the entire street has developed in havoc.

Car horns loudly honking hurt her ears, and soon she sees why. Losing a sense of order because of the unexplained glitching of the traffic lights, all vehicles are crashing into each other. Fortunately, an imposing figure is halting their movement before the damage can be too big. A car has impacted close to them, however, and while doing so knocking a street light that heavily falls their direction.

While this developed, Barry has urgently taken hold of her. When she becomes aware of his closeness, Stephanie is pressed against his chest as he protectively moves her out of the way. Her heart is wildly racing as her senses overload.

The both of them are falling to the ground, with Barry losing balance in his desperate need to protect Stephanie. He still manages to turn and break her fall, tightly squeezing her with his arms to be shielded against his chest. His back takes the hit as he heavily falls to the ground with Stephanie safely landing on top of himself. Unaccustomed to the chaos, she is screaming and protecting her head with her arms in a panic, pressing herself against Barry and hiding her face on his shoulder as he still holds on to her.

“Steph!” He immediately calls, keeping one arm locked around her and using his free hand to press it against her cheek, urging her to look at him. “Steph, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

She peers up in a daze, somehow finding comfort in his eyes despite it all. Despite the concern in them. Despite the chaos that engulfs their surroundings. In spite of it all, Barry’s still there with her. The thought calms her and she manages to take a deep breath. It helps settle the panicked pants that shook her being.

Stephanie wants to speak up, but she has momentarily lost the ability to speak. All she can do at that moment is catch her breath while she lays there on top of him, arms pressed against his chest as it quickly moves up and down with the same urgency as hers does. Barry’s hands are protectively pressed against the small of her back. Their faces are so close that their noses nearly touch. This closeness brings a flushed blush to their cheeks that can luckily be excused by the frantic situation.

“I-I’m okay” She finally replies, even with a shaky voice. “And you?”

“I’m fine” He absently says, immense relieved even if distracted.

Barry then lies on his side and carefully pushes her off him. The two of them still hold on to each other as they scramble to their feet. As they glance around, they see the disaster that the street has turned into.

A flying figure covers the sun for a split second while the clouds slowly float away in the sky. Stephanie gasps when she looks up and sees him, recognizing the cape and the strong silhouette of the hero that saved the day.

“Superman…” She utters, pointing up and gathering Barry’s attention there too.

“Oh, no” He mumbles under his breath, starting to understand what has happened.

Stephanie is too becoming aware of what happened, although in a different manner. She glances around, seeing the fallen street light that could have crushed them, the numerous cars that have crashed into each other and the traffic lights still stuck on green. How could Barry react so quickly if she barely had the time to notice any of it?

“Barry, what…” Stephanie swallows, trying to put some order into her messy thoughts. “How… Why…”

He isn’t listening to her incoherent babbling. Barry is still looking up, although his gaze is fixed on the roof of a building. A dark figure looms there, and his heart skips a beat in realization. Barry checks his phone, feeling a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he reads the screen. He has three missed called and ten texts.

“I gotta go” Barry stumbles over his words, suddenly even more frantic that during their near death experience. “I-I hate to leave like this, but I’m really late, I’m supposed to be somewhere else”

“Y-Yeah” Stephanie tries to recover from the shock and confusion. “Okay…”

“Can you walk home, are you okay?”

“I think so”

“Are you sure”

“Yeah”

“Steph?”

She stares at him, finding her lost concentration when she locks eyes with him. His worry seems to lessen when she manages to finally focus her gaze. Showing him that gesture that warms his heart, Steph nods and reassuringly smiles at him. He heaves a sigh in relief.

“Take care, okay?” He mumbles, in a sudden urgent hug. “I’ll call you soon”

“Okay” Stephanie clings on to him, lingering in the embrace and treasuring it for just a moment longer. As she does, she takes the breath she has needed so badly during those long minutes in which she couldn’t breathe.

When he pulls away, she has to hold back a groan of complaint. Her warmly smiles and waves goodbye at her. She does too. Then, Barry briskly walks away, urgently holding on to his phone.

Stephanie watches him in fascination, her eyes fixed on his back as he distances himself from her. There had been a new look on his face, an expression of mature determination and somber commitment. She had never seen anything like that. Barry has changed, and she doesn’t know in which way exactly. Stephanie is left with thousand of questions buzzing in her brain as she walks home in a daze.

Tag list: @scared-to-be-lonely345 // Ask to be added to be notified when I post for this series!! ​

[yukipri]

On Koala and Fishman Karate - a One Piece Mermaid AU Story

Not an ask response, but here with another story which was posted last month on Patreon!

I never actually intended on writing this, because this was originally supposed to just be exposition leading up to Marco's Bauble 2, and kinda explaining why Luffy's being tutored in Fishman Karate. But, it ended up being too long and going off on WAY too many unrelated tangents, so I chopped it off and made it its own thing ^ ^;

Mostly introspective, with Koala x Luffy, mention of Sabo x Luffy, and some thoughts on Nami from Koala's perspective as well.

~~

~~

Koala gently nudges Luffy's hand a little higher, and the mermaid makes a tiny whine of frustration as she sways on her tail, trying her best to maintain the posture she's been taught. Luffy glares at her own fist with such adorable determined ferocity that Koala doesn't have the heart to tell her that she doesn't need to try so hard, and that if anything, staying relaxed is the point.

Koala's been trying to teach Luffy Fishman Karate during the few lulls between their adventures. She knows that the disciplined martial art is probably not Luffy's style, but Fishman Karate focusses fishmen and merfolks' innate sensitivity to water. It's honed for combat in this case, but it can be applied to daily life as well, which is why fishman karate is a regular part of grade school curriculum on Fishman Isand. When one lives surrounded entirely by water, ten thousand meters below sea level, it's remarkably beneficial to be in tune with it.

Even if Luffy never fully masters it, Koala's sure she can gain something of value to apply to her regular fighting style, and even if not, it's part of her heritage. It's why Koala had insisted on teaching her, and Sabo had grudgingly agreed (Koala knows the grudging part mostly comes from Sabo still being petty about being terrible at it himself. Which, shouldn't come as a surprise since fishmen arts are difficult for non fishmen and merfolk, but it gives Koala something to rub in his face, which is always wonderful).

It's nice, Koala thinks as she sings praises in Luffy's ear while fixing her posture once again. It's nice because even though Koala'll do any assignment thrown her way, and will do anything to further her primary goal of achieving justice for fishmen and merfolk, being an assistant Fishman Karate instructor is her actual formal position in the Revolutionary Army. It's so easy to forget, with the number of missions she's been on with her acting support for Sabo and others, and the increasing amount of time she spends away from Baltigo and her students. But suddenly, she's given an unexpected opportunity to actually practice and share her passion, and to someone who could really benefit from it too. It would be an utter waste for Luffy to not learn from Koala while they travel together.

(Even if it means Sabo sulks and stews with pathetically transparent jealousy over losing sibling bonding time. He can deal. He'll have plenty of time later.)

And well, Luffy's honestly a joy as a student too. Even if explanations mostly go over her head, she's got amazing physical intuition and picks things up fast. And she's so dedicated, staring at Koala with wide eyes like she holds the secrets to the universe when Koala shows her something new, always blurting out her awe exactly as she feels it and--it's endearing.

Luffy, everything about her, is honestly endearing.

The fishman karate tutoring sessions are honestly the only times Koala can have alone with the mermaid (or as alone as one can be, on the deck of a small vessel like Merry), especially without Mr. Nosy Possessive Big Bro butting in between them. So yes, maybe Koala enjoys spending time with Luffy for reasons other than just getting to do karate together, but she'll confess that to Sabo over her own dead body.

Not that Koala thinks it really matters; Sabo's already giving her the Suspicious Stink Eye (though to be fair, he gives that to everyone other than Ace). And yeah, in hindsight she honestly should have expected his suspicion, given how well her partner knows knows her dating history.

I'm warning you, Koala, Sabo'd grouched when they were alone, dropping his Cool Big Bro act to reveal the Shitty Little Dumpster Brat that Koala knows and grew up with. Don't even think about it with Luffy. Even if she's infinitely cuter than what were their names...Marinara and Cartwheels.

Their names were Marina and Kara. And I don't date every mermaid I meet!

Koala's honestly offended, but decides to let it go; Sabo's overwhelmed by his sudden wave of previously repressed Brotherly Love, and he's still not entirely rational (not that rational's a particularly good word to apply to him at any time). And she doesn't have a thing for fishgals and mermaids, she swears. She just happens to spend a disproportionate amount of time working with them, given her specific focus in the Revolutionary Army. It just makes sense.

Or fine, maybe she has a slight thing for them. And, well, maybe Luffy's her type. Just a little bit. On top of being, well, a super cute pupil. But Koala's not going to do anything, other than enjoy spending time together! Is she not allowed even that?

But, the point is, Sabo's being ridiculous! Koala's been his partner for years! Doesn't he trust Koala enough to know that she'd treasure Luffy, in the very hypothetical situation they ever dated?

(Koala knows the answer to that, knew it the moment she saw Sabo's expression melt as he cupped Luffy's face, and sighs. She never imagined she'd be love rivals against Sabo of all people, but well, shit happens.)

Anyway, Fishman Karate times are Koala's times with Luffy, and if Sabo comes poking his snooty little nose into their sessions, well, Koala's happy to volunteer him as a punching bag. Which he knows, hence why he's not here.

In fact, the deck is mostly empty, the other members of their limited crew occupying themselves elsewhere. Their sole observer is the navigator, sitting by the rail and marking up some maps, seemingly not paying attention.

But Koala knows that Nami's very much attuned to their lesson, her head jerking every time a particularly hard smack lands.

Koala doesn't blame her. She's aware of what Arlong did, had had to swallow bile when she accessed the full report when it came through, days before their fateful meeting with Luffy and the ASL pirates. She knows what Nami must think of fishmen, and to know that her impression came from former Sun Pirates leaves Koala feeling a special kind of numb.

Because that isn't what they're like at all, she wants to say. The Sun Pirates, to Koala, are a gleaming example of why fishmen deserve better, and are victims of human prejudice and ignorance. It's terrible that they mean the opposite to Nami. But given her experiences, Koala knows she has no right to preach at her. If anything, she just feels sad, and bitter, knowing that the cycle of hatred can come back to hurt those so very far away from where it started.

Koala guides Luffy's arms into position again, and despite Luffy struggling to remember everything mentally, the young mermaid's body easily accepts the form. It's an art designed for her kind after all, unlike the marine martial arts that Sabo said their grandfather had beaten into them. Koala's sure Luffy struggled with those, unable to fully copy moves that require certain feet positions, and an assumption of a more human perception of the world. But this, Fishman Karate, was made for her.

Nami twitches again, and Koala makes a note of it. She knows Nami has likely seen the form before; there were several martial artists in Arlong's group.

She knows it's difficult to watch, but admires Nami's stubborn determination in doing so. Koala's sure that part of Nami's reason for watching is to make sure Koala doesn't teach anything unsavory to Luffy, and she respects that wariness, because they haven't known each other long enough for Nami to open up to Koala and her history of friendship with fishmen.

But, and it's only a guess, but Koala thinks Nami also watches to try to learn and accept this part of her captain as well. Koala might not be important, but Luffy is the captain Nami's pledged to follow, for all that Ace is also her captain. And whether she likes it or not, Luffy's a mermaid, which, while not the exact same as fishmen, has plenty of things in common.

Now that she's no longer isolated on an island in East Blue, heading closer to Fishman Island which they'll inevitably have to cross in order to enter the New World, Luffy's learning more about herself. Specifically, the mer part of herself. And she'd be doing that, regardless of whether Koala's there to help her along.

Koala thinks it wise that Nami's forcing herself to learn alongside Luffy, so that there are no surprises, and that one day, she doesn't wake up and realize that her captain shares far too much with her tormentors for her to handle. Koala hopes that Nami's love and acceptance for Luffy will plant a seed of hope that eventually helps her accept other fishmen and merfolk, to see that they're not all Arlong--but Koala can wait.

~~

~~

Thanks so much for reading if you got through this~! <3 As always any comments/thoughts are super appreciated!

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

[itsclydebitches]

I really love your idea of Uncle Oz. But in the early volumes, Ozpin was given the 'menacing, plotting' Dumbledore treatment. Which is weird, because by the time we have the backstory he's just genuinely a caring, wonderful person in an awful situation. Which is also weird, because the hands-off man we know doesn't map to the idea of who the guy must have been to set up the school in the first place. Oz seems like the prime example of the show actively not always knowing where it's going.

Especially since, looking back, I honestly believe that the vast majority of said “menacing, plotting Dumbledore treatment” came from viewer expectation and very little was built into the text. Meaning, this is the Harry Potter era watching a new show. We see an older, white, clearly powerful, somewhat eccentric headmaster and go, “AH HA. I know where this is heading,” even though canonically Ozpin barely does anything to generate those feelings in the story. I’ll admit the “You have silver eyes” line is easily the most damning - What does that mean?? What does he want with Ruby??? - and we have the moment where Yang comments that he’s “off” during the speech, but both of these things happen within the first few episodes. Following that, Ozpin’s mysterious/manipulative persona is obliterated. Not just through all the legitimately good things we see him doing (counseling Ruby, talking to Blake, bending rules to help deal with the White Fang, etc.) because admittedly that all could have still been a part of some larger manipulation. AKA, Ozpin is grooming this group to do his dirty work like Dumbledore groomed Harry. But that reveal never comes. Instead, Ozpin encourages the group to leave if it’s not their own, active decision to help. He doesn’t manipulate people into working for him, he deliberately discourages anyone with doubts from continuing on because doubts, as we’ve seen, lead to people betraying the cause. Just as importantly, the ‘shady headmaster’ persona fails because we learn what his secret is. What’s Ozpin hiding? The fact that there’s a war on. What’s he doing about that? Something nefarious or at least ethically dubious? Uh... no. Actually he’s just doing the best he can with limited options. It’s like if in Prisoner of Azkaban we got to follow Dumbledore’s perspective for multiple chapters, learned pretty much all there is to know about the war, and likewise confirmed that Dumbledore was never attempting something as horrible as raising a kid for slaughter.

Really, the text only starts treating Ozpin as legitimately shady around Volume 5 with the whole bird transformation stuff, which as we’ve discussed was just stupid. Then it was hinted that he had some other, terrible secret hidden away, we waited a whole volume to find out what it was... and then it wasn’t terrible at all. Salem is immortal? Anyone who thinks about this war for five minutes can figure that out. Is it Ozpin’s fault that Salem is immortal and trying to kill us all? Uh... no. No it’s not. So... why was he supposed to be shady again? 

The structure basically went: 

Show: Here’s an archetype many of you are familiar with 

Viewers: Ah, yes. The gray headmaster. I know what to expect of him 

Show: Here he is doing legitimately good things that are never revealed to be done out of manipulative/evil intent. Or even done for any reasons other than what he claims 

Viewers: What? Huh. That’s unexpected

Show: Now here’s the deep dark secret he was keeping. It’s neither deep nor dark. As the audience, you all already knew of Salem’s existence 

Viewers: Wow... um... isn’t it a little early for this to be revealed? If he’s actually a bad guy, I mean. Do we normally get to follow the perspective of these characters so much? Do they normally give kids like Pyrrha complete freedom in choosing whether they want to help? Do they normally listen to their allies like this and share decisions with at least three other people? Because all that’s doing is showing me that Ozpin is doing his best while literally having no other choices available to him. I guess maybe he could still be hiding something else... 

Show: Oh, he is

Viewers: AH HA. I knew it

Show: Ozpin reincarnated into a kid 

Viewers: He... had no control over that? 

Show: We’re not done

Viewer: Alright, alright 

Show: Ozpin also - wait for it - turned Raven and Qrow into birds 

Viewers: We already knew that too?? And how is that a bad thing???

Show: It is. It totally is. But more importantly he’s hiding something else from the group 

Viewers: Okaaay. Still waiting

Show: SALEM IS IMMORTAL. HE MANIPULATED THEM ALL INTO FIGHTING AN IMPOSSIBLE WAR

Viewers: Omg. We knew that too! How could she be anything other than immortal if Ozpin has been trying and failing to get rid of her for a thousand years? Also, I’m sorry, but Ozpin manipulated the group who wanted to be huntsmen into doing the job of huntsmen? He manipulated them into going after Cinder and demanding to be a part of this war while he was still stuck on a farm? He manipulated them into fighting an “impossible” war when they’d all already agreed to fight grimm? You know, the never ending enemy? And what, he manipulated Qrow into being a better person?? Please tell me he was at least responsible for Salem going bad somehow? 

Show: Nope. He was dead while Salem gave the gods the finger and then didn’t survive an abusive relationship with her. It broke him for a while, wherein he did the truly heinous deed of living alone in a cabin, but with some help he rejoined the fight and has since almost single-handedly created the prospering Remnant we have today

Viewers: So how is this guy morally gray? You briefly hinted that he’s a creepy mastermind. Then dropped that for three straight volumes. Suddenly re-insisted via Raven that he’s a horrible person, but have thus far failed to actually show that

Show: No, no. We showed it. Remember that telling lies and keeping secrets is the worst thing you can possibly do. Even when those secrets and lies help keep people safe. Intent doesn’t matter. If you lie to your allies you’re a horrible, manipulative person 

Viewers: So that’s why our heroes were able to tell the same lies and keep the same secrets without consequences? That’s why they were lauded for those choices? 

Show: Exactly! 

Viewers...................

Except “Viewers” is really “Me” and I’m forever salty about it lol 

[sithsecrets]

A Matter of Expediency - Part VIII

After being married off to Kylo Ren in the name of securing an heir to the First Order’s throne, a princess tries to navigate the ins and outs of married life. As she grows closer to her new husband, the princess also carves out a place for herself in the Order, assuming control over her life when she thought she would have none.

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Part 8

4.2k words

Mentions: sex, swearing

---

Miriam dresses you in the morning, rousing you from a cold, empty bed so that you may be ready on time to link up with the Chancellor. You feel a pang in your chest when you realize that Kylo’s not there, though you don’t let it hurt your feelings too badly. He’s a very busy man, your husband, and you assume that he’s got much to do today running the galaxy and all.

The Chancellor greets you graciously in a main corridor, and you’re thankful to see a friendly face in a sea of stormtroopers, uniformed technicians, and other complete strangers. He begins leading you through the ship, the both of you flanked by members of the Imperial Guard. Once again, you find yourself impressed that he’s navigating the ship without a map or compass— you feel utterly lost already, and you’ve been walking about no more than five minutes.

“The Supreme Leader has told me that the people of your home planet adore you,” the Chancellor states, and though he’s being his serious self, you can tell he’s happy to be talking with you. You’re glad to be with a friend, glad to have an ally as you waltz into a new situation.

You flush under the praise, humbled— you had no idea that people spoke so highly of you at home. “I just try to be kind to everybody, no matter who they are.”

“Well it seems to work,” Hux says with a shrug. “I think you’ll be an excellent fit for this job, given your demeanor and manner of dealing with others. I will admit that myself and many other Order officials lack your gentle touch.”

“What about the Head of Charity?” you ask. You’re most nervous about meeting her, you think. She attended your wedding, but you never got the chance to speak past the casual hello. Still, the woman in question made quite the impression, dripping in gems as more than one handsome man nipped at her heels.

The Chancellor’s brows draw together, and he speaks as if he’s choosing his words carefully. “She’s… I think you’ll be able to handle her. Just don’t take anything that she says or does personally.”

You want to ask him what he means by that, but you don’t get the chance.

---

The Head of Charity is just as striking as you remember, all sharp features and intense gray eyes. She looks almost like a bird you think, but not the kind that sits on a branch and makes sweet music as the sun rises. No, this woman is a predator, a raptor bathed in gems and precious metals. Every bit of her glitters, light glinting off her throat, wrists, fingers, and ears as she glides across the floor to greet you. Upon closer inspection, you realize that the Head of Charity is a bit older than you realized, lines crinkling in the corners of her mouth and eyes. Still, it’s as if her age only serves to enhance her beauty, and you think that you may have been a bit taken aback by this woman if you weren’t so keenly aware of how she’s been judging you since you walked in the room.

“Empress,” the Head of Charity greets, curtsying deeply as she comes to stand before you. Something about her tone and the look in her eyes makes you think that she may not have done such a thing if others were not present, and you get the vaguest since that you’re being mocked in some way or another. Still, you are gracious and warm, smiling sweetly as you gaze out on the Chairwoman and the rest of the Board of Charitable Affairs.

“It is so lovely to meet you, Chairwoman, members of the Board,” you say, and already, you can pick out the little pets. There’s a handful of them around the table, and while they return your grin, the twist of their mouths is just the least bit suggestive of a sneer. Something’s already been said about you, that much is plain, but you let their ridiculing looks roll right off your back.

Thankfully, Chancellor Hux sticks around, seating himself next to you as the meeting begins. Introductions are made, and you try very hard to remember everyone’s names and faces, not wanting to give anybody the satisfaction of making you look like a fool later on. All eyes fall on you each time you ask a question, but Hux proves himself to be a great ally, always armed with an answer or an explanation. You already knew that the Order’s influence is vast and wide, but you come to understand that they truly do have their hand in every part of the known galaxy. Dozens of planets are discussed, and the charitable causes established on all of them tally into the hundreds. It’s a heavy workload to manage by anyone’s standards, and you understand at once why an entire team of people has been selected to oversee it all.

“I had no idea that the Order was so involved in charity,” you declare, awed by the sheer amount of money that the organization is shelling out for its colonies and possessions. You’re pleased to see such a difference being made, pleased to know that the First Order has no interest in simply conquering and pillaging anymore. You knew that Kylo changed much when he took the throne several years ago, but still, it’s flooring to hear what he’s done to help his people.

“Yes,” says the Head of Charity, “the Supreme Leader has always been quite insistent on spreading the Order’s wealth.” You don’t like the quirk of her mouth as she tells you this, don’t care for her tone. It’s almost as if she thinks your husband silly for spending all this money, for having all these schools and orphanages designed and built for the people under his rule. You cannot believe her attitude, yet, you don’t say anything, unwilling to kick up a fuss so early on.

“The Supreme Leader,” Chancellor Hux elaborates, speaking directly to you, “wanted to change the galaxy’s opinion of the Order after the end of Supreme Leader Snoke’s tyrannical rule. The first thing he did was end the kidnapping of children for the stormtrooper program, and then he established the Board of Charitable Affairs. Since then, he’s been insistent on improving the quality of life on every planet he makes an alliance with.”

The look in the Chancellor’s eyes would indicate that he doesn’t think much of the Head of Charity himself, though you must say that his subtlety is impressive. Something passes between yourself and Hux in that moment, an understanding of sorts, but you think it’s too quick for anyone else to catch.

The meeting only goes on for a bit longer, and you’re thrumming with excitement by the end of it. You still lack a bit of confidence in your ability to handle everything, but you can’t wait to start working on new efforts. The Order’s acquired several underprivileged planets in the last couple of weeks, and there’s much talk of benefits and fundraising events, of dedications and the completion of existing projects. Your head swims with ideas, though you don’t want to reveal any of them to the group just yet.

An official adjournment is called, and members of the board begin to file out of the room, leaving in groups of two and three. Chancellor Hux invites you to take lunch with himself and some other Order officials, and you accept the invitation happily.

As the two of you go to leave, the Head of Charity calls out to you. She practically floats instead of walking, coming to stand before you. Her smile is catlike, and you catch a subtle glint in her eye as she speaks. “I just wanted to say that I so look forward to working with you,” the woman gushes, her admiration entirely fake. Stars, she reminds you of your aunt, of Mila. They’re all the same kind of woman, power-hungry and cold to the core.

“My sentiments are the same, Chairwoman,” you reply, throwing her put-on sincerity back in her face. The Chairwoman knows what you’re doing, but her confidence doesn’t falter for long.

“Please, call me Evan,” she insists. This is a blatant ploy to draw you in closer, but you can’t decide if she’s being transparent on purpose or if she really is a terrible actor.

Your smile is sickeningly sweet. “Evan it is, then.”

But you do not give this woman permission to call you by your given name, and you would sooner die than do so… A fact that obviously gets under Evan’s skin. There is a pause, and then the Chairwoman reaches out to tuck a loose piece of hair back behind your ear. It’s a ballsy move, seeing that you’re flanked on all sides by Imperial Guards. “If I may be so bold, Empress— I must say that you are a very beautiful girl… by the standards of your little planet.”

It’s her most cutting remark yet, and the most overtly aggressive, but you’ve had worse said to you over a casual breakfast. Still, you cannot believe her brazenness.

“Thank you, Evan,” you reply, acting as if you’re genuinely touched. The Chairwoman gives you a long look before bidding yourself and Hux a good day, and then she’s gone, floating out of the room in a quiet huff.

You and the Chancellor watch Evan go, waiting for the coast to clear before you speak.

“What an awful woman,” you declare, laughing at the Chairwoman’s audacity. Never before have you seen someone so insanely brave!

“That was outstanding, Empress,” Chancellor Hux breathes, genuinely impressed as the two of you finally make your exit. “I’ve never seen anyone manage to ruffle her feathers like you just did.”

You roll your eyes, waving a hand flippantly through the air. “Oh please, I know all of her tricks the way I know the back of my hand. She’s just like my aunt was, always trying to cut someone else down for her own amusement.” Scoffing, you add, “If she wants to make me squirm, she’s going to have to do better than that.”

Chancellor Hux is amused by what you’ve said, and it’s nice to hear him laugh for once. Like Kylo, your new friend suffers from an eternally serious demeanor.

You turn to him in disbelief. “How did she even get this job? Don’t tell me she treats other diplomats and galaxy leaders that way.”

The Chancellor shakes his head, resigned. “She’s a shapeshifter,” he tells you simply. “She knows all the right people, and she has a way of bending them to her will. You would think she was a different person when she’s at galas and benefits, the very epitome of a selflessness.” He rolls his eyes as he says this, obviously thinking back on something specific.

“Surely Kylo doesn’t like her,” you declare, unable to fathom a man like your husband finding friendship with a woman like that.

“No, of course not,” Hux affirms. “But she brings in big donations from outside the Order, and she’s strengthened a couple of important alliances using her own… methods.”

The look of disgust on your friend’s face is evident, and you decide it best not to ask.

“A necessary evil,” you conclude, and the Chancellor confirms this with a nod.

“But,” he amends, “I think the Supreme Leader would be happy to push her out if someone better came along.” Hux looks at you directly now. “In a few months’ time, after you’ve sharpened your skills and gained a bit of knowledge, I think we can be rid of her.”

“Kylo told me that he wants me to replace you.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you realize how that sounds. “I mean, at least that’s what he told me. He says that he needs you for—"

Hux cuts you off with a wave of his hand, smiling slyly. “That’s what he said, yes, but—”

You catch on immediately, cutting him off now yourself. “But that’s not the real plan. The both of you want to be rid of Evan, but you told me differently so I wouldn’t blow your cover.”

Under different circumstances, such a deception may have hurt your feelings. However, you get it— your ignorance of the situation only helped you during the meeting, and you’re sure that Kylo and Hux wanted to feel out your real opinion of the Chairwoman before they let you in on their little secret. You tell the Chancellor as much, and his expression slowly shifts into a satisfied grin.

“We’ll make a politician out of you yet, Empress,” the Chancellor proclaims. The two of you share a sly look, and then Hux is guiding you into a grand dining room.

---

The officer’s luncheon is littered with friendly faces, but it makes you a bit sad to see that Kylo isn’t among the group of men and women that you’re to dine with this afternoon. You had hoped he might be there, but you guess he’s off doing something else at the moment.

Conversation flows easily at the table, and you’re content to listen more than talk as you eat your delicious meal. You’d been a bit worried at first about what eating on the ship would be like, but you’re delighted to see that it’s not all pre-packaged foods and tasteless protein portions. The gathering only lasts for about an hour, but you have a splendid time nonetheless. You leave happy, relieved at the thought that your peers in the Order seem to genuinely like you.

It would seem that your schedule is clear for the rest of the afternoon, all of your meetings and social engagements done for the day. You don’t know what else to do, so you ask your guards to show you around the ship a bit. They lead you through a virtual maze of corridors and passageways, escorting you to the medbay, the bridge, various landing decks, and even the medbay. It’s a comprehensive tour, and most of your afternoon has been eaten away by the time you’re satisfied with what you’ve seen. With nothing else to do, you simply have the guards take you back to your quarters. Before you dismiss them, though, you have one last question.

“If I wanted to speak to the Supreme Leader, how would I do so?”

One of your guards answers quickly, telling you that your comlink is all you need. You feel a bit silly as soon as he says it, having almost forgotten about the thing entirely. They aren’t standard on your home planet, and Miriam had only mentioned it in passing this morning as she tucked it place behind your ear. After a quick tutorial, the guards leave you alone, walking off down the hall to do stars know what.

You settle yourself in the living room, hesitant as you try to reach out to your husband. It feels strange, just talking out loud, but you do it anyway. Kylo’s voice is crystal clear in your ear, and you jump at the sound of it.

“I’m here,” he says. “What is it?”

As you go to reply, you almost feel silly for bothering him. “I was wanted to know what you’re doing.”

Your husband doesn’t seem annoyed though, telling you, “The Knights and I have been out on a scouting mission. We should be back in a couple of hours.” A pause, and then, “I apologize for not telling you my whereabouts.”

“No, no,” you say quickly, “it’s all right. I just wanted to know if you were going to be home this evening, that’s all.”

You don’t tell Kylo that you’re a bit eager to see him, or that you were afraid you might be sleeping alone tonight, and you pray that none of that comes out in your voice.

“I’ll be back soon,” your husband affirms, and then the com goes dead. It stings a bit, how quickly Kylo gets off the line, but you try not to take it personally. He’s doing something important, you’re sure.

Miriam appears just a few minutes after you send for her, and she’s happy to help you freshen up before the Supreme Leader returns. You sit in front of the vanity for a while, touching up your makeup as Miriam fusses with your hair. Though there’s no reason for it, you decide that you want to change dresses, indecisive as you pick through everything you brought from home. While no one commented on your appearance when you were out and about today, you felt out of place in your outfit. Everyone in the Order wears sleek, sharp, dark-colored garments— your floaty pastel dress is a far cry from any of that, even if it is pretty.

“I guess I need new clothes,” you sigh, running your fingers wistfully across the neat row of garments before you. You love them all, of course, but none of them look like something an empress would wear.

“Your dresses are beautiful,” Miriam reassures you, reaching out to admire one of your summer frocks. “But I can make arrangements with the tailor if you wish. He makes all of the Supreme Leader’s clothes, and rumor has it that he’s dying to meet you.”

You look at your attendant, perking up a bit. “Really?”

“Oh yes,” Miriam laughs. “Apparently, he’s been drawing up designs since your engagement was announced. I don’t think he gets to make many pretty things, working for your husband, the Chancellor, and just a few other important officials.”

You laugh at that, glancing over at Kylo’s rows and rows of black tunics, pants, and shirts. If you had to go out on a limb, you’d say that Hux’s closet is much of the same. “I’m sure he doesn’t, poor thing.”

Miriam helps you pick out a dress to wear, and though you still don’t think you fit in very well, you do feel pretty when she’s done working her magic. You dismiss Miriam after that, thanking her for helping you change. She only smiles and shrugs, saying that you should call for her if you need her.

---

Your husband does indeed return in time to take his evening meal with you, traipsing into your shared quarters in a swirl of black cape. He wears his mask, face a black, expressionless void. Still, you offer him a smile as he enters the room, hopeful that Kylo is happy to see you. Purposeful and quick, he strides right to one of his dresses, stripping off his helmet, cape, and gloves methodically.

“The Chancellor told me that you handled the Head of Charity with a firm hand. He said that you played her own games back at her, that you were catty and sarcastic,” Kylo declares, coming back into the sitting room to look at you now. The content of his speech and the firmness of his tone has your pulse pounding, and you only look in him in the eye because you feel like you must. Half startled and half afraid that you’ve disappointed your husband in some way, you sit up straight as a pin as he regards you with a curious gaze. But then his expression softens, a smirk tugging at the corners of mouth. “I must say that I am very impressed.”

Relief washes over you, punctuated by a burst of white-hot pride. You knew in your own heart that you’d done well today, but hearing this praise fall from your husband’s lips makes you feel lightheaded with elation. Still, you remain humble.

“She’s just Mila if Mila was thirty years older and knew how to accessorize,” you say, laughing at a little. “It’s almost like I’ve been dealing with the Chairwoman since I was a child.”

Kylo’s smirk becomes more a smile as you make this remark, the fondness in his eyes making your heart flutter. “Nonsense,” he says, taking a step towards you. “I’ve seen that woman make commissioned officers burst into tears at state dinners. The fact that you made her squirm is something to marvel at.”

You lower your eyes, smiling a little to yourself. “I guess,” you conceded, biting your lip as you look back up at your husband’s face. Kylo doesn’t say anything else, abandoning the subject in favor of ordering dinner for the both of you. Your state of euphoria lingers nonetheless, and you’re enthralled by the idea of having done something right.

A droid serves you and Kylo your meal at the small dining table, coming and leaving without a word. Like this afternoon’s lunch, your evening meal is rich and delicious. You chatter happily as you eat, making polite conversation about the ship and your luncheon. Kylo makes small remarks in return, though he doesn’t speak at length about anything in particular.

You realize that it’s getting late when the two of you are finished eating, late enough to where it wouldn’t be inappropriate for you to wind down for the evening and get ready for bed. Normally you would take a quick bed and change into your night things readily, but with Kylo here, you aren’t sure that it’s worth it yet. If you were bolder, you would ask Kylo flat out if he intends for the two of you to have sex tonight, but you aren’t, so you don’t. Instead, you dance around the subject, shy and hesitant.

“I think I’m going to get ready for bed,” you declare, getting up from the table slowly. Kylo tracks your movements, watching you carefully as you come to stand. His eyes graze up and down your body, one hand reaching out towards you.

“Come here,” your husband beckons, “I’ll loosen your dress for you.”

Kylo stands, gently turning you around so that he may work on the lacing at the back of your dress. He pulls and tugs for a moment, fingers fighting with the fastenings for a moment, and then your dress is slipping off your shoulders, leaving your shoulders bare. The press of Kylo’s lips against the skin there catches you off guard, makes you flinch involuntarily before you melt into the affection entirely.

“I apologize,” Kylo mumbles, kissing up the curve of your neck now, “I just couldn’t help myself.”

“That’s all right,” you sigh, not complaining one bit when Kylo wraps his arms around you middle, pulling you back against his body.

“It’s a bit early to sleep,” he murmurs. “I’m not tired yet.”

Your husband’s teeth nip at the shell of your ear, and you’re gone after that, putty in Kylo’s hands as he guides you into the bedroom.

The lovemaking is even better than it was last night, more comfortable and less nerve-wracking now that your first time is over and done with. You still fumble a bit, not entirely sure of yourself, but Kylo doesn’t seem to mind. He even teaches you new things, telling you how to arrange yourself on top of him, how to move your hips in a way that makes both of you mumble curses under your breath. But Kylo plays fair, showing just as much as he tells, and you come to find out that your husband is even better with his mouth than he is with his hands. You’d always thought that having someone go down on you would be strange or even unpleasant, but oh, how wrong you were. By the end of it all, the both of you are panting for breath, covered in a thin sheen of sweat as you kiss your way through your orgasms.

Kylo is the first to shower, promising to be quick as he leaves you on the bed with a kiss and a glass of water. You lie there in the tangled sheets, listening as Kylo washes the last hour off of his body. It doesn’t take him long, and then you’re the one in the shower scrubbing away everything that’s just happened. Your hips and thighs ache, chapped lips burning as the water streams over them. Drowsy and satiated, you try to bathe quickly, the energy necessary for you to linger in the ‘fresher sapped by Kylo’s cock, mouth, and hands. You reach a hand between your legs in the process, pulling back fingers covered in your husband’s cum. This makes you pause, staring at the milky sheen on your skin as you consider its purpose. Silently, you pray that Kylo’s seed catches swiftly, letting your hand fall under the water as you do so.

A cleaning droid must have come while you were gone, because every sheet and pillowcase is clean and pressed when you come back into the bedroom, unsoiled by you and Kylo’s lovemaking. Your husband is subdued as you crawl into bed next to him, but he doesn’t push you away when you curl into his chest— quite the opposite, actually. His arms are strong around you, just as they were last night, and you’re out like a light within minutes.

[cuculine-nelipot]

Wish We Could

Chapter Two: London

{ Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary: After the Battle of Howgarts, Hermione and Ron start dating; their slow-burn friends to lovers arc complete. He’s nice, and she’s comfortable, and everyone is happy for them. Everyone but Fred, who can’t stop thinking that he loved her first, and Hermione, who begins to wonder if they really are as over as she thought they were. }

22nd August 1998, Night

“Well that was a colossally stupid thing to do,” George says from his old bed in The Burrow, spending the night at their mother’s insistence. Half laying down, he doesn’t look up from his magazine. Fred stands uncomfortably still, staring out the window, as though shell-shocked, even though Errol has long been out of sight.

“Yup.”

23rd August 1998, Morning

It was true that it didn’t take an awful lot to keep her up all night: a new book, a good essay, or better, a long one. Hermione had pulled her fair share of all-nighters, but none like this.

“Were you up all night reading again darling?” Her mother asks, taking stock of her daughter’s messier than usual hair, the shadows around her puffy eyes.

“Yes.” This wasn’t a lie exactly — she’d read that letter countless times.

“You look awful.” It sounds harsh, but her mother’s furrowed brow shows real concern.

“It was a sad story.”

1st July 1996

Summer had come to engender mixed emotions in Hermione. On the one hand she was of course excited to see her parents again, but on the other, she missed her friends terribly. She never had friends like Ron and Harry before; friends she saw day and night, friends she shared every meal with, friends she knew from experience would risk their lives for her as quickly as she would for them. She had no siblings, and had hardly kept in touch with the few friends from primary school. It was too difficult to keep fabricating stories about her Very Normal Boarding School Where Nothing Life-Threatening Ever Happened. So home for Hermione had become synonymous with the sort of deep-seated loneliness one only feels when one knows precisely what they are missing.

And now, to make matters worse, there was Fred. Fred who had kissed her in the hospital, and again by the lake, and again in several empty hallways while they waited for term to officially end. Fred who had, over the past year become more important to her than she ever would have expected. Fred, who didn’t look at her like he was lost and she was supposed to have the map, or make it. Fred, who so often grabbed her by the hand with a whiny come on Hermione, mischief dancing across his face, and dragged her along for some pure and honest thrill-seeking, who showed her the world as she had never seen it before.

The shrill ring of the telephone abruptly cut through her melancholia. Assuming it was only her parents phoning from work, she took her time making her way downstairs.

“Hello?”

“Hermione?”

“Fred?” She asked, her voice pitched with incredulity. “How are you calling? Why are you calling?”

“I believe it’s called a payphone and I am using one because I wanted to talk to you.” Even through the crackle and static, the teasing grin in his voice was obvious.

“Wanted?”

“Want.” He could hear the smile in her voice too.

24th August 1998, 10:17 a.m.

Perhaps George was right, and that her silence over the weekend means she isn’t coming. She is wiser than Fred after all. And George is usually right. Still, Fred waits, at an al fresco table at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, his right leg bouncing manically up and down, his eyes flitting to his watch every few seconds. He has been sitting there for forty-eight minutes.

Of course, Hermione knew at once that it was an undoubtedly bad idea, going to see Fred. Though really, it would only be a bad idea if she still has feelings for him, which she doesn’t, or if he still has feeling fore her, which she is sure isn’t true either. Then there is the fact that she had hardly made it to Florean’s all summer, and he has a lovely blackcurrant and gin ice-cream that he’s meant to stop making once Autumn rolls round. But then there is the question of why precisely Fred wants to meet her. And then there is Ron. Such thoughts chased each other in circles around her head, nipping at each other’s heals all Saturday night and most of Sunday, until another owl arrived. This one with a note from Flourish and Blotts asking her to please collect her order at her earliest convenience. Was Monday morning around 10 a.m. not her earliest convenience?

And so at eight-thirty on this almost chilly August morning, Hermione left her house for Belsize Park station, hopped on the Northern line, and alighted five stops later at Leister Square. She walked two minutes in the direction of The Leaky Cauldron, changed her mind, and instead went to Foyles, which reminded her that she did indeed need to go to Flourish and Blotts. After buying just three books and a new book bag, she again made her way to The Leaky Cauldron, then onward to Diagon Alley. This whole harrowing ordeal took over an a hour, and so apart from picking up Merlin’s Annotated Dante’s Inferno, she decided to splurge a little on some new quills, a well of peacock blue ink, and a couple of fancy leather bound notebooks.

It is perhaps this added weight that, on observing Fred Weasley’s anxious form outside Florean’s, impedes her attempted escape. Instead, before she can take two steps back the way she just came, she feels a hand pulling at her wrist.

“Hermione, wait.” She turns to see him looking imploringly at her with his bright green eyes, so wide and so close she can see flecks of gold in them, reflecting the morning sun. “It’s just ice-cream.”

Just ice-cream — who could argue with that? They order two scoops each and return to the table he had already occupied, Hermione dumping her bag on an empty chair emphatically in a show of annoyance. For a while they sit in silence; her refusing to speak first, and him not wanting to risk ruining their fragile peace. She scoops ice-cream into her mouth without looking up from her bowl, and he eats slowly, without looking away from her.

“I want the record to show that I think this is a colossally stupid thing to do,” she says suddenly, her eyes still fixed on her food.

“Well I suppose ice-cream’s never the healthiest thing in the world but Florean’s is pretty —“

“You know what I mean,” she cuts him off bitingly.

“The record will reflect that both you and George think that this is a colossally stupid thing to do. However, I would like to remind all relevant parties that it was my idea, and between the two of us I am the only Ravenclaw so therefore—“

“What do you want Fred.” She phrased it like a question, but her tone makes it abundantly clear that she would like nothing more than for him to just shut up.

“I just want to talk.” He looks abashed, or as abashed as he can look for Fred Weasley.

“I’m not sure we have anything to talk about.”

“Oh,” he says in a tone both needled and needling, “I think we have plenty to talk about.”

“Like what Frederick? You broke us up remember? Not me. You’re the one who walked away —”

“I walked away? You were the one who was leaving. You left —”

“I had to go. You’re the one who said you couldn’t —“

“And you’re the one who hung up the phone. And you’re the one who kissed —”

“I knew this was a mistake.” She grabs her bag, her chair scraping harshly on the flagstones in her haste to leave, desperate to not hear the end of that sentence.

“Hermione —“ He whines, but she doesn’t look at him. Can’t.

“Good bye Fred.”

17th July 1997

“Good bye Fred.”

“Hermione —“

A click as the phone disconnected. He stood alone in the red phone booth, in the flat above the store.

“You alright there mate?” George asked from the couch, turning from the Daily Prophet, his brows furrowed with concern.

The receiver still held to his ear. The singular, monotonous hang-up tone filled his head, his body, pervading the very fibre of his being.

2nd July 1996, Morning

“Buoyant” was the only word that came to mind as Hermione walked down Charing Cross.  She felt buoyant. She had resigned herself to spending the week or so before she and her parents went on vacation wandering around Hampstead with nothing but her books for entertainment, until Fred called and asked if they could meet the following day — today — at The Leaky Cauldron. So she made her way there, buoyantly, glad for some company and more so that it was his.

“Granger!” He hailed from the curb. Of course, her heart didn’t actually skip a beat, but it felt like it did.

“Why are you waiting out here?”

“Well the Cauldron’s a bit of a dive yeah? And Diagon Alley is just the one alley and we’ve been loads so I thought maybe you could show me your London?” He says, all in one breath. She wasn’t sure but she thought his face pinked a little.

“My London?”

“You know… Muggle London.”

“Why?”

“I dunno — if I’m going to live here I should know the area. And,” he added, looking down and rubbing the back of his neck. His speech became stilted. “I want to know what your world’s like.”

“Okay,” she smiled. Buoyantly.

The first place she thought to take him was of course Foyles bookstore, because it was close, and because, well, books. A whole monumental treasury of books.

“Bloody hell,” his eyes widened in child-like wonderment the second they walked through the door. The patchwork rainbow of spines and covers, the smell of new books, the sheer notion of being surrounded by so many stories, and so much knowledge. Even if it only lasted a moment, Hermione had never seen him so still or so quiet before, and she briefly wondered if she had broken him. “This place is massive,” he spun around as he spoke, taking it all in, “is everything in London this big?”

“Not everything. Just a lot of things.” She couldn’t look away from him, the spark in his eyes eliciting an adoring smile. “Did you bring any quid?”

“What’s that?” He asked, not really listening.

“Pounds, muggle money, did you bring any?”

His face blanched as he turned to look at her sheepishly. “Might have forgotten. But I have regular money.”

“‘Regular’ is a state of mind Frederick. And wizard currency far from regular. It’s ridiculous.”                                

“It’s not!”

“29 knuts to a sickle and 17 sickles to a galleon? It’s completely impractical.”

“Okay fine. Maybe you have a point.”

“Oh I definitely have a point.” Hermione retorted, grinning from ear to ear. She insisted that she had been meaning to change some money anyway, so they switched 10 galleonss for £50.

He moved further inside slowly, overwhelmed and unsure of where to start. At first he simply trailed behind her, but eventually wandered off on his own, winding through the stacks and pulling books off the shelves to peruse at length. She found him in a corner near the children’s section over an hour later, surrounded by piles of books ranging from classic literature to astrophysics. The only things he seemed sure of were a home improvement manual for Mr. Weasley, and the first two volumes of Asterix and Obelix.

“You alright there, Frederick?” She asked, crouching down beside him.

“There’s so many Hermione. How am I supposed to pick? I’ve never even heard of half these subjects before. Do I need a book about aerospace technology? Do I need seven? How should I know?”

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say you don’t need any.”

“Help me,” he whined, looking up at her with his big, doleful green eyes. He had never in his life felt quite so distressed. She sorted through the volumes surrounding him, eventually selecting The English Patient — one of her personal favourites — A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and a history of 20th century archaeological discoveries.

When they at last emerged, it was onto a London bustling with the lunch-time rush. Rather hungry themselves they went in search of sustenance and managed, with a little magical persuasion, to find a table in a small French bakery. At their window seat they split a quiche Lorraine and a croque monsieur, drank iced-chocolate, and tried to stave off the crash that inevitably follows a bookstore-high.

“You’re being awfully quiet today.”

“Hm?” He perked up. “Oh, sorry. It’s just a lot to take in, this.” He gestured vaguely to the sprawling city outside.

“But do you like it?”

He shrugged. “I love it.”

“Good.” She smiled, satisfied, settling further back in her seat.

“Do you like it?” He asked after a moment’s silence, studying her face carefully.

She picked at her food, considering. “I do but… I’m usually alone. I think I like it better with you.” She paused, then nodded as if affirming the truth of it to herself. “This quiche is pretty good.” She raised her fork but before she could take another bite, he was leaning across the table, one hand lightly holding her face, pressing his mouth to hers.

24th August 1998, Evening/Night

This time, Hermione is certain of it. She will not leave her room until the first of September. Her parents however are not on the same page.

“Hermione dear?” Her mother calls, hearing the jingle of keys in the front door. “Is that you? Come into the kitchen.” Hermione obliges, and finds her parents reading different newspapers at the kitchen table, with a steaming pot of earl grey and a plate of shortbread between them like they did everyday after work. The sight is enough to warm Hermione’s heart. She had missed this almost more than she could bear.

“How was your day darling?” Her father asks without looking up.

“Fine.”

“Did you buy any books?” Mrs. Granger does not look up either.

“I bought a few, yes.”

“That’s nice.” Her father offers, taking a sip of his tea.

Hermione lingers by the doorway, not saying anything. Eventually her mother looks at her, and observes a certain heaviness in her countenance. “Why do you look upset? Come sit down and have some tea.”

“Is this about Ron?” Mr Granger inquires, a particularly paternal brand of protectiveness evident in both his tone and in his eyes.

“Is it about the brother?” Her mother asks with hawklike instinct.

“Are you thinking about your… adventures?”

“You promised no more secrets darling.”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Hermione interjects before they can pursue their line of questioning any further. They blink at her, equally taken aback. “If that’s okay with you,” she adds imploringly, unwaveringly meeting their eyes. They in turn consider their daughter carefully.

“Well alright then,” her mother says, turning back to her paper. “Dinner is in an hour. Go wash up.”

So she does, and she eats dinner with her parents, and after that she re-reads her new herbology textbook in the living room while her mother reads a le Carré and her father listens to a radio comedy. And she’s happy, honestly. She’s happy to be nestled in the warm glow of her childhood home, with her unchanging parents. She’s happy they are safe, and that for the first time in years there was nothing foreboding hovering on the horizon. She is happy, or at least, she is content.

Fred Weasley on the other hand is far from happy or content. After his rather disastrous morning he went straight back to the flat above the store, determined to spend the rest of his day off in bed. He didn’t move for hours. Rather impressively, he was still in bed when George came up after closing. His hair stuck out at odd angles as though he had been trying to pull it out, his sheets were fitfully dishevelled.

“Oh mate,” said George with an emphatically slow shake of his head, “you really need to get a grip.”

Fred looked up from Asterix and Cleopatra, shooting his brother a reproachful look.

“I’m going into London to get dinner. Do try to regain some level of composure before I get back yeah?”

That seemed like too much effort, so Fred fell asleep instead. He wakes up much later, at 1:38 a.m with London rolling round his head like a marble dipped in luminous dye, tracing webs of light. Quietly, he grabs his Nimbus 2001, climbs out the window onto the roof, and shoots off into the night. A certain frost sparks in the air, pinching at his skin. The wind whips through his hair, at his cheeks, stirs something inside his chest.

All the lights are off in the Grangers’ Hampstead home when he arrives, about 20 minutes later. All but the warm glow of a reading lamp emanating from what he knows is Hermione’s window. He hovers across the street, obscured by trees and shadow. He can see her silhouette on the sheer white curtains, sitting in bed, perfectly still, her head bowed slightly. Reading, most likely. His mind wanders to all the times he’d seen her in that exact posture, in a zen-state of complete focus; her small placid mouth, her smooth brow, the inward curve of her nose, mahogany brown ringlets framing her face. He remembers how he used to try and touch her cheek, her nose, her mouth, and how she would swat him away like she was shooing a fly.

She moves; her arms stretch above her head, her hands intertwined. She switches off the light, and Fred goes home.

2nd July 1996, Evening

“Had a good day darling?” Her mother called from the kitchen as Hermione closed the front door.

“It was alright, yes,” she said, leaning against the kitchen doorway. But the smile spread across her face suggested that it was a lot more than simply alright.

“What did you do?” Her father asked, his nose still in his paper.

“Oh you know, just went central. I met up with Fred. Went to Foyles. Had lunch. Walked around.”

“Who’s Fred?” Her father asked sharply, head snapping to face her.

“Ron’s brother,” she replied. Suddenly embarrassed, she shifted her weight nervously.  “One of the twins. You’ve met him before dad.”

“Why were you with Fred?” Her mother’s stare was as piercing as her father’s tone.

“Well he and George just moved to Diagon Alley and he asked me to show him around a bit,” she replied in one breath.

“Just Fred?”

“Yes.” Her face burned under her parents’ scrutiny, and she struggled to hold their gaze, not wanting to seem guilty, like she was hiding something.

“Why?”

Hermione only shrugged in response, pursed her lips, desperate for this to be over. “I’m going to shower now.” She turned abruptly and left the room.

“Dinner’s in an hour,” Mrs. Granger called after her daughter. A door slammed shut upstairs. She turned to her husband, and they shared a look of utter disbelief.

chapter one | chapter two

taglist: @thelasttime​ @bchnan​ @lovedyouthreesummers​ @keoghans​

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

In Chains (Chapter Seven) The Lull Before the Storm (Trafalgar Law)

“Samira. Do you have a minute?”

Said woman peeked over from her seat near the desk and smiled at Penguin. He leaned against the door of his shared room, arms crossed over his chest; his roommate and navigator were giving him sour expressions. This nearly made him laugh.

“Our Captain asked for you,” he made clear.

Their unpleasant attitudes barely faltered.

Samira bowed her head and stood up. “We can finish the map another time. Alf šukr. (a thousand thanks)”

Penguin raised a brow. “A map? What kind?”

He pushed off the frame and walked into the room, peeking over the bear’s shoulder as he drew lines on a chart sheet. It wasn’t much to look at; Penguin could make out a landform with some notable locations, but he had never heard of them before.

“The Isle of Red Sand,” he read out loud. He gave Samira a curious look.

She gently laughed. “It’s where I’m from. Meister (mister) Trafalgar inquired about it during our last talk.”

“And you’re making a map for him? Does that mean we’ll get to see your homeland someday?”

Samira hoped not. She hid her frown well, but her eyes narrowed. “Possibly. The Isle isn’t exactly safe to visit right now, but one day you guys might be able to see it. My sister would love to meet you all.”

“I’d love to meet her too,” Shachi mentioned with a sigh. “I bet she’s as sweet as you, Sami.”

This was the first time he’d heard about her sister – Samira hardly talked about her life before meeting them – but he imagined they looked a lot alike.

“She’s the nicest person I know … my brother not so much,” Samira mentioned. She didn’t give her words much thought until Shachi trembled in fear; her brother was a sore topic for her.

An obvious frown appeared on her face, but she laughed regardless; awkward and loud. “He is extremely protective of us, but he’s not a terrible person.”

She wished this was true; he wasn’t the same person she grew up with, but regardless of his bad decisions she loved him. Samira huffed a sigh and stood up.

“Mester (mister) Trafalgar asked for me; we should go.”

Penguin nodded. He was curious about her relationship with her brother, but thought it best not to ask. Her entire demeanor had changed in a matter of seconds, and honestly, he hated it. What happened between them? The serious looks she was getting from Shachi and Bepo made him believe that they too were just as curious.

She said her farewells and left the room with Penguin, following him up the stairs at the end of the hall and to the second level. She assumed Law was on deck waiting for her, but was shocked to see that he and some of the crew were on the shore of the next island. When had they docked? She stared in awe at the vast scenery, and only snapped out of her daze once she heard Penguin call her name.

Following him from the submarine, Samira was eager to explore. Law motioned them closer, and ordered Penguin to head further onto the island with the others; she noticed a wooden barrel near the shore where he was standing, but paid it no mind.

“Are we going onto the island too?”

Law grinned. “Once we’re done here. The Log Pose will take two days to reset and I have some business to attend to.”

“I assume that means you don’t need me to follow you around,” Samira mentioned.

He laughed at her attempt. “You assume wrong.”

“You’re no fun,” she whined.

Law ignored her, striking the barrel with his foot. “That aside, we should take care of this matter first.”

He saw the confused look on her face, and leaned down to pull the lid off the barrel. Samira squeaked once she saw what was inside. Law had cut up Arsenio and had shoved the pieces into the barrel; his fingers and toes twitched and his large eyes stared up at her, blinking every now and then.

“How is he alive? And what did you do to him?”

Law sighed. “It’s something my Devil Fruit allows me to do. Now isn’t the time to explain it; we’re in front of the enemy.”

His power was seriously frightening. Samira trembled and glanced down at the frog man. Why was he like this? She recalled Law saying that Arsenio would be leaving them, but she never assumed like this.

“Does he feel pain?”

Law shook his head. “Unless I want him to. I’m surprised though, Amunet-ya. One of your many horrors is right in front of you, and questioning me is only thing you can think to do.”

“I––

He was right. Law went to the trouble of giving her a last word and she had so far wasted his generosity. But what should she say? Samira clinched her hands. There was so much to say; so much anger and despair in her heart. She took a deep breath, then let it out.

“I could be ruthless; I could scream at you and hope that the sea drags you down to the depths, but I’m not like you.” Tears burned her eyes as she tried to contain her rage. “In fact, … I want you to live; I want you to make it back to the Isle, and I want you to tell your boss that I’m free to live my life the way I want to.”

Arsenio croaked in laughter. “So long as you are an asset to the Boss, you will never be free.”

“I’ll be waiting then. Tell him to come and get me,” Samira hissed. She grabbed the lid and secured it back onto the barrel, then kicked it into the sea.

Law snorted; no doubt, that was the lamest and most reckless farewell he’d ever heard. What had been going through her mind? “You say whatever you want – thoughtless or not – don’t you?”

“He made me mad; I wasn’t even thinking.”

Her face warmed up. Did she just pick a fight with them? Samira shot a glare at Law.

“Why didn’t you stop me? I can’t take that back you know?”

He agreed. “You can worry about it later. We need to reach the Exchange Shop before it closes.”

“Are you ever worried about anything?”

Law ignored her question. He ambled down the manmade path leading from the shore towards the village; Samira followed him with a pout.

At least she’d get to see the island now.

--

The Festival of Colors. Samira held the multihued flyer against her chest as she waited outside the Exchange Shop for Law. A native of the island handed it to her as he passed through the plaza, insisting that she come and participate in the fun. She had no clue what the Festival of Colors was, but she was hooked; the flyer mentioned there’d be music and delicious food. Samira wanted to go.

She leaned back against the wall and waited until Law returned. He carried a small case with him and walked past her as he searched the shops for the next stop. Samira ran to his side and hummed a jaunty tune; Law recognized it as the one his crew often played onboard the submarine.

“Liking this, are you?”

She was indeed. Sakra village was stunning. Samira had never seen a place so vibrant. Color decorated every building; no two were the same, like a kaleidoscope.

“It’s so beautiful. Don’t you agree?”

Law hummed. “It’s intense.”

“That’s the sort of condescending thing I expected you to say,” Samira laughed.

He raised a brow. “Are you saying that I’m a negative person, Amunet-ya?”

“Sometimes, yes.” Just seems like you never learned to smile.

She chose not to elaborate; she’d already said too much. A gentle smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

“Look at me, proving you right. I guess I do say whatever I want without thinking.”

Law agreed. “You certainly do.”

He sighed and came to an abrupt stop. The arrangement he made with her was troubling him. Honestly, there was no time to train her, but he had to go and agree. He had a course to set and a plan to recreate; much to prepare for. However, the sub was docked for two days, much to his chagrin.

“We need to head back,” Law mentioned. There was enough light in the day to get a few hours’ worth of training.

Samira was confused. She puckered a brow, but Law merely grinned.

“You have until we leave to show me how serious you are about controlling your Devil Fruit power. I promised to teach you, but if I see no progress, then I see no reason to waste my time with you.”

She understood. Nodding in agreement, Samira followed Law back to the submarine. She wanted to show him the flyer for the festival, but knew that now was not the best time. It was tomorrow night; she could ask him then.

[renaroo]

Cass Cain vs the Bat Family for the last slice of Alfred's pie. "Is that a challenge?"

A/N: This became a more Batfam entirety kind of story and then a commentary on the madness of quarantine in my own family using Uno as a proxy. Regardless it was a lot of fun to do.

Four Walls and Attitude 

Oracle places her hand against the map behind her. What was once a black and white scaled model of Gotham is now glowing a radioactive green with shades of green depending on the island, the neighborhood, and even the street.

Everyone, including Batman, stares in awe of the projection.

“In other words,” Oracle says, looking sharply over her glasses, “there is absolutely no way we can operate like normal without causing things getting worse.”

Silence spreads quickly throughout the cave. Most of them don’t even know what to make of the information.

Finally, giving voice to the general shock, Nightwing finally says, “Wow. Corona killed Batman.”

“It did not, the rest of you are staying in the manor,” Batman concludes, leading to an eruption of disagreement.

“Did you not pay attention to what I just said?” Oracle demands. “It goes for you, too, Bruce. No one in this cave can leave without it causing a major public health challenge. We patrol too many areas, cross-contaminate with each other too often, and, worst of all, we have immunocompromised family members of our own to worry about.”

It was an intentionally vague statement, but it doesn’t stop the meaningful glances toward Alfred and Red Robin.

Red Robin crosses his arms angrily. “I resent that statement.”

“Maybe keep better track of your spleen,” Red Hood snorts.

Black Bat is uncertain, shifting on her heels. “What do we do?”

“Social distance and adapt,” Oracle answers easily, straightening her glasses. “It’s possible to fight crime without punching people, you realize. That’s my entire M.O.”

The other vigilantes look at each other warily.

***

The size of the manor was enough reason on its own for them to make it their main base of quarantine. There are obviously more than enough supplies, more rooms than any of them could use independently, and access to equipment and the cave should emergencies arise.

Not to mention, the vast majority of them live there already.

Stephanie calls her mom, Barbara messages the Birds of Prey, and they all find solo activities for the first day, only really intersecting at the library, the kitchen, and the entertainment room during chance encounters.

That seemed to be a good call. And when there is a need for some social interaction, it’s almost always in their usual social groups however they naturally lie.

No one sees Bruce but that seems pretty par for the course.

It isn’t until the third day that things get slightly more challenging.

Stephanie, Duke, and Cassandra enter the mini-theater room with a giant tub of popcorn. The lights are off, but the projector is running and the main couch is occupied by Dick and Damian.

“Oh, didn’t realize you guys were in here,” Duke says sheepishly.

“SHH!” Damian hisses at them.

Dick arches back enough to look at the trio over his shoulder. “No problem, we’re watching Planet Earth. Want to join?”

Stephanie and Duke look at each other with mirrored grimaces.

Cassandra squints at the screen. “No,” she answers for them. “How long?”

“We’re marathoning,” Dick shrugs. “Started about an hour ago—“

“SHH!” Damian snarls at them again.

“We were hoping to watch a movie,” Steph says. Her gaze falls more on Damian than Dick, since he is no doubt the one to appeal to. “The Breakfast Club, it’s a classic. You’d like it.”

Duke looks at them all skeptically. “He would? Really?”

“Cass, you know there’s a different television set,” Dick says, pointing to the floor below.

“Tim’s playing,” Cass says in response, her hands holding up an invisible controller as she mimes Tim’s thumb movements.

“There’s a million places you can set up a laptop,” Dick continues to plea.

That earns a crossed look from Stephanie. “So? What do we need to do? Start putting signup sheets in all the rooms? Just share the projector with us after Planet Earth switches episodes.”

“No,” Dick and Damian say in unison.

The trio leaves the room angrily and, within the hour, clipboards with signup sheets begin being mysteriously adhered to all of the main rooms.

***

Jason has made it a point, nearly every day, to remind everyone that he will be the easiest adjusted to quarantine because he is the only true introvert.

The number of times the words introvert and isolated have left his mouth climb so high that, in secret, everyone is beginning to doubt the truth to them. If he is an introvert to the exponential extremes that he professes, surely he would not need to keep finding where everyone else is hiding to let them know it.

He has an alternating list of Zoom calls he is on each day. Hangouts he makes himself, making a point to inform the others quarantined to the manor than they are not invited to it.

The list of who is invited to it seems to grow by the day.

Kyle Rayner, Donna Troy, Ryan Choi. Then Roy Harper, Koriand'r, and Jade Nguyen. Then Artemis, Bizarro, and Miguel Barragan. Out of nowhere Duela Dent, Rose Wilson, and Suzie Su.

It’s halfway into the second week and Jason has the audacity to come into Tim’s room, pull off his headphones, and ask him if he’s bored.

“You know what I think,” Tim says, more than a little irritated. “I think you’re actually not an introvert. I think you’re not an introvert and you’re taking out your need for social contact out on the rest of us.”

Jason considers his comment, then breaks the expensive Beats in half before walking out the door.

***

Alfred begins making many desserts.

It starts with requests. Of course he will make whatever meal or whatever treat is asked of him, because it is nice to have all his loved ones safe, secure, and in the same location for once. Many of the desserts aren’t even difficult.

Then, somehow, they morph into bribes.

Despite the fact that Alfred has remained tight-lipped about his exact age for all these years, the quote-unquote children insist that he is too old to venture out of quarantine. Thus he must stay in the manor and rely on them to stock the pantry.

This doesn’t seem altogether terrible until it becomes obvious to Alfred that whoever he sends out will only get the foodstuffs they desire and not any of the important staples Alfred puts on the list.

Thus, the trades begin.

He can’t make his famous flan without evaporated milk. He positively will not make ginger layer cake without wine poached pears. And how can they snack on peach and pistachio tarts without honey?

Before Alfred has realized it, he has created monsters. Sugar craved, bored little monsters.

He puts a limit on the sweets he will cook in hopes of focusing instead on cooking favorite meals, but it’s too late.

Even Bruce is checking in on the kitchen at odd hours, looking curiously under the cake plate.

And cutting back the number of sweets Alfred is producing through the week also leads to another unforeseen circumstance.

They begin competing for what sweets are left.

***

Bruce looks in disbelief at the screen. Then he looks at the others. Then back to the screen.

“I distinctly remember us being on episode four,” Bruce says in a voice that edges on Batman.

“Last night, yeah,” Duke agrees, helping Alfred with everyone’s drinks.

No one else seems to find fault with the statement and are waiting for Bruce to continue. They pick at their independent devices lazily, only half attentive to any one thing.

It’s very dissatisfying considering the huge inconsistency that Bruce is detecting on their streaming service.

“Why is it saying that we’ve watched all the episodes already?” Bruce demands, voice sounding more hurt than he meant to let on.

Dick and Barbara simultaneously look up from their phones, toward each other, then back down. The others don’t even bother breaking their concentrations.

“You finished the entire series without me?” Bruce presses.

“Father,” Damian finally speaks up, sounding exasperated, “it is impossible to properly view things with you.”

Bruce squints at his youngest. “What does that mean?”

“It’s not just you, Bruce,” Stephanie says quickly, trying to smooth things over. “I can’t watch shows with my mom either.”

“Boomers just don’t know how to binge-watch,” Tim cuts with the final blow, not even looking up from his laptop.

Leaving the room in spite of protests, Bruce decides he is never going to watch the end of the show out of spite.

***

Cassandra has apparently made it a habit to not let others see her walk through doorways. As a result, she seemingly appears in rooms more than she enters them. Or, at the very least, she acts as though she just always has been and it is the other party who is intruding on her space.

As a result, it’s not altogether shocking when Duke looks up from his newly prepared plate and is met by his sister.

She is staring at his plate more than him.

“Oh, hey, Sis,” he offers her all the same. Then, instinctively, he shifts his shoulders to somewhat create a barrier between his plate and her. “What’s up?”

“Apple pie,” Cass announces as if it answers everything.

“Mmhmm,” Duke replies cautiously.

“Last piece?” she asks, her eyes gleaming.

“I’m sure Alfred will make another,” Duke says, then, slowly adding, “eventually.”

“Mine,” she snaps.

“No, you don’t even eat yours with vanilla ice cream!” Duke argues back, almost turning his back on her completely. “Just eat some of the cookies.”

“No!” Cass says, quickly shifting to be more aligned with the treat. “You eat them.”

“Cass, I got here first!” Duke snaps back, hooking afoot around the leg of the nearest chair. “Fair and square.”

“It was my pie,” Cass hisses. “I’ll take it back!”

“Is that a challenge?” Duke asks.

He sees her lunging and immediately kicks out the leg of the chair as he flips over it.

Cassandra is quick as ever and easily somersaults off of the falling chair to land over Duke’s shoulders. Her force is enough to send Duke’s body tumbling forward, but his body has proper instincts. He holds up the plate of pie above all else while using his free hand to find new ground, twirl his body out, and roll his head forward. Cass tumbles off his shoulders.

She hits the counters, but not before kicking off her shoe and sending it flying for Duke’s face.

He twists enough to lighten some of the impact, but the well-aimed shoe sends Duke into a tailspin.

The pie hits the floor with a sickening thud.

The siblings look crestfallen toward the prize, then each other.

Then they get angry.

By the time Barbara and Alfred burst onto the scene to break things up, the fight has utterly devolved and grown to the size of five Wayne heirs, three of which had no idea what the initial fight was even over.

Jason filmed it and sent it to everyone in his extended Zoom call list.

***

They are at each other’s throats. It turns out the Manor doesn’t have enough rooms.

Even Alfred’s treats are not enough to soothe the tensions anymore. Any little thing can set them off. So they spend the rest of the week finding solitary activities, barely communicating with words anymore.

Finally, some wounds begin to heal when Stephanie speaks to a room of others on their Switches.

“Hey, does anybody have an island with cherries?”

They play in harmony again, comparing villagers in hushed tones and sharing patterns for clothes.

Momentarily, there is hope that the peace will last forever, to the rhythm of island music and Blathers’ gibberish words.

It gives them twenty-seven hours of peace and nothing more.

***

“This absolutely will not work,” Barbara sputters as she pulls up to the table.

The others look at her with mild surprise, but they’re already seated. Jason is shuffling in preparation to deal. The arrangement from his left on is Stephanie, Cassandra, Barbara herself, Dick, Duke, Tim, and then Damian.

Damian is flanked by Jason and Tim. And only Barbara sees what the problem with this is.

“I am looking at a public safety hazard,” Barbara presses. “Dick, seriously, you’re going to let them do this?”

He thinks about it. “It’s a learning experience,” he determines.

“You dealing in or nah, Red?” Jason pushes.

She glares at them all, certain this is purposeful on at least some of their behalves, but she crosses her arms. “Okay, fine,” she says.

Jason deals out seven to everyone. Once he puts the deck in the middle, he turns over the first Uno card — green three — and with his free hand reaches in his jacket pocket for cigarettes. The others are already playing while Jason looks slightly miffed if not panicked when he can’t find the pack.

Under the table, Barbara can feel the shuffle of a pack of cigarettes being passed between other members of the table.

Shockingly enough, Jason doesn’t say anything verbally, but his eyes are already glaring at Damian as the pickpocket.

Stephanie puts down green nine.

Cassandra green Draw Two.

Barbara draws two.

Dick puts down a yellow Draw Two.

“No fair,” Duke chuckles.

Tim puts down a yellow Reverse.

Damian narrows his eyes. “You think you’re clever, don’t you, Drake?”

Duke yellow eight.

Yellow four.

Yellow two.

Blue two.

Blue three.

Blue Reverse.

Damian glares at Jason. “Is this planned?”

“How can they plan Uno, Dami?” Steph asks. Blue one.

Blue seven.

Barbara looks over her glasses at the table. She’s lost track of the cigarettes. “Don’t underestimate these people, Stephanie,” she warns as the ends up drawing five cards before finally laying down green seven.

Green nine.

Wild Card. “Let’s go with,” Duke looks through his hand cautiously, “Yellow again.”

There is a suspicious twitch to Tim’s lips as he puts down a Draw Four. “Let’s go back to red.”

Damian releases an explosion of expletives and leaps to stand on his chair.

“Ah, it was a mistake, my bad,” Dick says, rubbing a hand down his face.

***

Bruce is stone-faced at dinner, strangely fixated on his plate.

It’s not overly concerning, Bruce tends to be in quiet contemplation on most days regardless.

He finally looks up, though, and glares at them all.

“I finished it on my own,” he informs them.

They all stare back.

“Tiger King,” he clarifies. “They’re all guilty. But also. What the hell.”

Everyone collectively loses their minds again.

Alfred sighs and begins drafting a rotation for getting them all out of the manor more.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars LII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Harry’s looks on this movie were on point, bless Alfonso.

Words: 4,421

Warnings: Mentions of death, sad kiddos

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Eleven: A Truth Unveiled.

Her mum's letter arrived a week before the Christmas break. 

It didn't say much (as expected) and that annoyed her. How long would her family hide things from her? She wasn't a baby! Either way, she wrote back telling her mum that she understood, and hoped that her uncle would feel better for the rest of the term, though she knew he wasn't going to. Still, she didn't need to tell her all to help uncle Lupin, she would do it on her own.

Mel also made sure to tell Harry she would go to the next visit to Hogsmeade, which was that very same weekend. She told the boy she wanted to buy presents and he said it was okay, though she could see he felt a little betrayed, even if he insisted that she should go without him.

Saturday morning, Mel got her favorite coat and hat and stood next to Hermione and Ron on the line with Harry standing beside them. She didn't see the twins around, so a terrible thought made its way through– What if they took back their promise and they weren't going to give Harry the map?

No, the twins were good blokes, not liars– All was fine. The girl gave her friend one last hug and joined the rest of the group.

The town was even more beautiful than expected, the little houses and the establishments made her slightly dizzy, it was hard to worry when so many wonders surrounded her.

"Well," Ron smiled widely. "Where to first?"

She realized the boy was asking her, so she looked around.

"Honeydukes sounds just fine," She grinned.

During five minutes her eyes kept jumping from one place to another, her hands already full of free samples. A familiar face entered the store and as soon as he saw her, he walked all the way to where she was.

"You came," Erick said with a pleased smile. She jumped, dropping a bag of marshmallows between their feet.

"I needed to do my Christmas shopping," She thanked him when he reached for the bag and returned it to its shelf.

"If you say so, Miss..."

"Can you stop calling me that?" She huffed. "'Miss'– You've known me for two years, I think you can cut the formalities."

"Sorry for having manners," He raised a brow.

"Manners of a grandad," She snorted.

"My family's not exactly young–" Erick pouted. "My brother's the only young man apart from me, and he doesn't talk much..."

"Right, cause he's an idiot," Mel nodded distractedly, picking random jars and smelling their contents.

"Clearly," He agreed. "Really, why are you here? I thought you'd wait until your boyfriend was allowed to come?"

"Harry's not my boyfriend," Mel replied calmly. "I told you, I'm buying presents. Why are you talking to me in public, anyway? Where are your lovely friends?"

"They went for butterbeers. I said I needed to buy ink."

"I assume you lied," She smiled, taking a few chocolates and adding them to her bag.

"I saw you walk into the store and my curiosity won, I needed to know what could've possibly happened for you to willingly walk away from your darling boy..."

"You're an eighty-year-old living in a boy's body," She teased.

"Mel–" Ron and Hermione walked around the corner, holding two small bags filled with their sweets. "You've to-"

He stopped short as soon as he saw the boy standing next to her. Erick tried to walk away, but she caught his wrist and kept him in place.

"It's okay," She said softly.

"He's here," Ron frowned.

"Hi, Flint," Hermione spoke in just the right amount of formality to make sure he knew he wasn't welcome.

"I..." Erick glanced at Mel in confusion before answering. "Hi?"

Mel sighed, she thought that if there was ever a time to set things clear before Harry found out, it was now.

"They know," She explained. "Hermione found out last year after you stupidly introduced yourself, and Ron saw you talking to me the night we slept in the Great Hall and recognized you from that time Faustus insulted me... I'm sorry, I know you wanted to keep it a secret but–"

"We're not as stupid as you think we are," Ron replied coldly, but he wasn't looking at her.

Erick went a bit red, it was the first time she'd seen him like this.

"I see," He said, clearing his throat. "I should apologize, Faustus isn't likable for most, especially when it comes to Gryffindors–"

"S'not only your mate Faustus, is it?" Ron replied. "It's all of you charming blokes."

"Ron..." Mel warned, but Erick didn't take it easy either.

"That's rich coming from you," He scoffed. "Faustus said what, like five words? And your mate was ready to jump on his throat– All of you are a bunch of heated heads always jumping into conclusions and looking for a fight–"

"Erick!" Mel insisted.

"Are we now?" Ron's ears were starting to turn a deep red.

Erick stepped forward. Mel saw his jaw clench like every time she'd said something rude on accident.

"I'm just saying that maybe if you had more brains, you'd be able to see not all Slytherins are nasty bullies."

"You have a brilliant way to prove it, Flint!" Mel pulled him away from Ron before they could start a fight. "I think you made a grand first impression already, go back with to your friends."

Only then Erick seemed to go back to his senses, his eyes softening at her words.

"But-"

"Now," She insisted dryly. "I'll talk to you later."

Erick stood there, mouth slightly open to defend himself, his frown never leaving. Then he just shook his head.

"All right," He moved forward towards the exit, pushing against Ron's shoulder on purpose. They were about the same height, but Erick had a bigger, more intimidating presence, if that made any sense. He glanced at her briefly before leaving and said, "Have a good Christmas, Miss."

She waited until he was out of the store before speaking again.

"This is not how it was supposed to go..."

"What, you planned a tea party?" Ron spat. "I told you, it's impossible to get along with them..."

"Then why can I?" She asked in an awful mood.

"I don't know!" He made a face. "You've always been kind of odd anyway, I mean, you even have classes with Dumbledore–"

"That doesn't mean anything!" She said, fed up with his behavior. "You're acting like a child! Just because he's a Slytherin doesn't mean he's terrible!"

"How do you know he doesn't mean to harm you, Mel?" Hermione asked shyly. "How do you know he's only being good because he wants to and not because he's planning something else? What if..." She hesitated, "What if he wants to harm Harry?"

"What could possibly come out from it?" She huffed. "You're saying the only reason why he would want to be my friend is to get close to Harry? To hurt him through me?"

"We're not saying-"

"Don't bother," She stated harshly. "I make my own decisions and I decided long ago that Erick was my friend. I'm sorry if you don't agree but that's it, I'm not asking for approval."

Ron was about to reply but Hermione stopped him, sending a warning look before letting out a sigh and saying softly, "We won't stop you."

"Good," She finished, taking another jar from the shelf just to have something to do.

They stayed quiet for a few minutes, picking up random jars and deciding what kind of sweets they'd buy for Harry. She wasn't participating; to the terrible moment she'd passed, it was now added the fact that Harry was nowhere to be seen and that meant that Fred and George maybe had let her down. She couldn't wait to go back to school and spend the next weeks alone with Harry, she didn't want to know about anyone else.

"Ugh, no, Harry won't want one of those, they're for vampires, I expect," Hermione was examining a few blood-flavored sweets, Mel had her back to them, reading the ingredients of some black pepper imps.

"How about these?" asked Ron.

"Definitely not," said a third voice.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "What are you doing here? How — how did you — ?"

"Wow!" said Ron. "You've learned to Apparate!"

"Harry!" Mel's humor improved drastically.

"'Course I haven't," said Harry, he had to tilt his head a little to speak to the others after Mel decided to suffocate him with a hug. "It was Fred and George, they gave me this map..."

He told them the whole story in a very low voice so no one else could hear, Ron wasn't very pleased.

"How come Fred and George never gave it to me! I'm their brother!"

"Well," Then he looked at the girl standing beside him, his smile growing. "They weren't planning on giving it to me, but they asked me to thank you for their early Christmas present?"

Mel blushed, shrugging it off like it was nothing.

"They could've refused my petition, but they were generous enough to give the map away, you should thank them and only them."

"But Harry isn't going to keep it!" Hermione interrupted. "He's going to hand it in to Professor McGonagall, aren't you, Harry?"

"No, I'm not!" said Harry, looking at their friend like she'd gone crazy.

"Are you mad?" said Ron, saying exactly what they were thinking. "Hand in something that good?"

"If I hand it in, I'll have to say where I got it! Filch would know Fred and George had nicked it!"

"And then it'd be my fault they got in trouble because I asked them in the first place!" Mel frowned. "You don't want me to get detention again, right?"

"But what about Sirius Black?" Hermione inquired. "He could be using one of the passages on that map to get into the castle! The teachers have got to know!"

Mel bit her lip, she certainly hadn't thought of that, too busy trying to get her best friend a little break from all the bad news.

"He can't be getting in through a passage," Harry was quick to explain. "There are seven secret tunnels on the map, right? Fred and George reckon Filch already knows about four of them. And of the other three — one of them's caved in, so no one can get through it. One of them's got the Whomping Willow planted over the entrance, so you can't get out of it. And the one I just came through — well — it's really hard to see the entrance to it down in the cellar, so unless he knew it was there..."

The boy stopped as if the idea had just occurred to him as well. However, Ron nudged his arm and pointed to the sign on the wall next to them:

— By order of—

THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

Customers are reminded that until further notice, dementors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon the recapture of Sirius Black. It is therefore advisable that you complete your shopping well before nightfall.

Merry Christmas!

"See? I'd like to see Black try and break into Honeydukes with dementors swarming all over the village. Anyway, Hermione, the Honeydukes owners would hear a break-in, wouldn't they? They live over the shop!"

"Yes, but — but — Look, Harry still shouldn't be coming into Hogsmeade. He hasn't got a signed form! If anyone finds out, he'll be in so much trouble! And it's not nightfall yet — what if Sirius Black turns up today? Now?"

"In broad daylight?" Mel raised a brow. "I know he's got a reputation, but this isn't exactly a muggle place, he'd get caught in no time!"

"He'd have a job spotting Harry in this," Ron pointed to the snow falling outside. "Come on, Hermione, it's Christmas. Harry deserves a break."

"Please, 'Mione?" Mel pleaded, putting one arm around Harry's shoulders and pouting. "It's Christmas!"

"Are you going to report me?" Harry smiled knowingly.

"Oh — of course not — but honestly, Harry —" She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Then it's done!" Mel let go of Harry and locked arms with the girl. "How about we go to the post office?"

"Seen the Fizzing Whizbees, Harry?" Ron took Harry and lead him over to a barrel. "And the Jelly Slugs? And the Acid Pops? Fred gave me one of those when I was seven — it burnt a hole right through my tongue. I remember Mum walloping him with her broomstick... Reckon Fred'd take a bit of Cockroach Cluster if I told him they were peanuts?"

"I'd like to see you try," Mel looked at him over her shoulder, grinning.

Poor Harry had left the school in such a rush he didn't bring anything to protect himself from the cold. Mel took off her hat and put it in his head in spite of his complaints. She walked really close to him too, arguing that he wouldn't be so cold that way. It was a weak excuse, but neither of them cared to point it out.

Ron asked if they'd like to go a drink butterbeer to get away from the cold, and they gladly accepted, so they directed themselves towards the Three Broomsticks.

The place was crowded but it wasn't uncomfortable at all, somehow it still had enough room to sit.

"That's Madam Rosmerta," said Ron, pointing to the woman who was serving drinks near the bar. "I'll get the drinks, shall I?"

Mel and Hermione shared a look and giggled at how Ron tried to fix his appearance before talking to the lady.

"There's a table back there," Harry pointed to the back of the room.

The group sat right in the corner and a few moments later Ron walked over holding four tankards.

"Merry Christmas!" He said, giving one butterbeer to each of them.

And just cause life simply didn't feel like giving them a break, the door opened and through it appeared Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Hagrid... and the Minister of Magic. Ron and Hermione practically pushed Harry out of his chair and under the table, Mel sat very still. Technically, she was allowed to be there, but she knew that just like Erick, her teachers would know right away something was up.

"Mobiliarbus!" Hermione pointed to the Christmas tree next to their table and hid them behind it so the adults wouldn't notice them.

"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?"

"What else, m'dear, but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school at Halloween?"

"I did hear a rumor..."

"Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?" Professor McGonagall huffed.

"Do you think Black's still in the area, Minister?"  

"I'm sure of it."

"You know that the dementors have searched the whole village twice? Scared all my customers away... It's very bad for business, Minister."

"Rosmerta, m'dear, I don't like them any more than you do. Necessary precaution . . . unfortunate, but there you are. . . . I've just met some of them. They're in a fury against Dumbledore — he won't let them inside the castle grounds."

"I should think not! How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around?"

"All the same- They are here to protect you all from something much worse... We all know what Black's capable of... "

"Do you know, I still have trouble believing it... Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought... I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me then what he was going to become, I'd have said you'd had too much mead."

"You don't know the half of it, Rosmerta," said Fudge. "The worst he did isn't widely known."

"The worst? Worse than murdering all those poor people, you mean?"

"I certainly do."

"I can't believe that. What could possibly be worse?"

"You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta– Do you remember who his best friend was?"

"Naturally! Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here — ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!"

Harry dropped his tankard with a loud clunk and Mel gasped. Ron kicked him and Hermione put a hand over her mouth that she soon pushed away.

"Precisely," said Professor McGonagall. "Black and Potter. Ring-leaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course — exceptionally bright, in fact — but I don't think we've ever had such a pair of troublemakers —"

"I dunno," chuckled Hagrid. "Fred and George Weasley could give 'em a run fer their money."

"You'd have thought Black and Potter were brothers!" chimed in Professor Flitwick. "Inseparable!"

"Of course they were," said Fudge. "Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Harry. Harry has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him."

"Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know- Who?"

"Worse even than that, m'dear. . . Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was of course working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn't an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm."

"How does that work?"

"An immensely complex spell," he said squeakily, "involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find — unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!"

"So Black was the Potters' Secret-Keeper?"

"Naturally," said Professor McGonagall. "James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself . . . and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potters' Secret-Keeper himself."

"He suspected Black?"

"He was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements– Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who. So even if he had someone as the Secret-Keeper he asked his nephew, Matthew, to patrol in the house during night time."

Mel's heart skipped a beat.

Her father knew Harry's parents?

"And Matt agreed just like that?"

"Well, it didn't take much convincing, you know how he was," McGonagall explained. "Besides they were all the closest of friends, and Mel had already been born, he used to take her from time to time during his patrols at the Potter's house to lighten up the mood, they were quite the lovely pair as babies..."

"But James Potter insisted on using Black? Even though Matthew was a known Auror?"

"He did," said Fudge. "And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed —"

"Black betrayed them?"

"He did indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planned this for the moment of the Potters' death. But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Harry Potter. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His master had fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colors as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it —"

"Filthy, stinkin' turncoat!" Hagrid said.

"Shh!" said Professor McGonagall.

"I met him! I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all them people! It was me what rescued Harry and Mel from Lily an' James's house after they was killed!– Mel was there too ya know? Halloween an' all, the kids playin' all day, Matthew had been there all day with little Mel. Jus' got 'em outta the ruins, poor little things, with a great slash across his forehead, an' his parents dead, it was luck da' Mel only got a few scratches..."

She put her drink on the table, suddenly she couldn't breathe.

"Dumbledore took Mel and said he was goin' to deliver the news himself to Emily, that I had ter take Harry with his relatives... an' Sirius Black turns up, on that flyin' motorbike he used ter ride. Never occurred ter me what he was doin' there. I didn' know he'd bin Lily an' James's Secret-Keeper. Thought he'd jus' heard the news o' You-Know-Who's attack an' come ter see what he could do. White an' shakin', he was. An' yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN' TRAITOR!"

"Hagrid, please! Keep your voice down!"

"Poor Emily!" Madam Rosmerta cried. "I remember her well, that girl, so young and widowed! And with a one-year-old baby! Oh, she and Matthew were so lovely, they loved their friends so much..."

"How was I ter know he wasn' upset abou' Lily, James, an' Matt? It was You-Know-Who he cared abou'! An' then he says, 'Give Harry ter me, Hagrid, I'm his godfather, I'll look after him —' Ha! But I'd had me orders from Dumbledore, an' I told Black no, Dumbledore said Harry was ter go ter his aunt an' uncle's. Black argued, but in the end he gave in. Told me ter take his motorbike ter get Harry there. 'I won't need it anymore,' I shoulda known there was somethin' fishy goin' on then. He loved that motorbike, what was he givin' it ter me for? Why wouldn' he need it anymore? Fact was, it was too easy ter trace. Dumbledore knew he'd bin the Potters' Secret-Keeper, and he had got ol' Matt killed. Black knew he was goin' ter have ter run fer it that night, knew it was a matter o' hours before the Ministry was after him."

Mel wasn't sure that she was still in the place, or the same reality for that matter.

Her parents knew the Potters, they were friends. She had been there that night- worse yet, her father had died trying to protect them, and she didn't know, she didn't know...

"But what if I'd given Harry to him, eh? I bet he'd've pitched him off the bike halfway out ter sea. His bes' friends' son! But when a wizard goes over ter the Dark Side, there's nothin' and no one that matters to 'em anymore..."

"But he didn't manage to disappear, did he? The Ministry of Magic caught up with him next day!" Madam Rosmerta exclaimed.

"Alas, if only we had... It was not we who found him. It was little Peter Pettigrew — another of the Potters' friends. Maddened by grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper, he went after Black himself."

"Pettigrew . . . that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?"

"Hero-worshipped Black and Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I — how I regret that now. . ."

"There, now, Minerva," said Fudge. "Pettigrew died a hero's death. Eyewitnesses — Muggles, of course, we wiped their memories later — told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing, 'Lily, James and Matt, Sirius! How could you?' And then he went for his wand. Well, of course, Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens..."

"Stupid boy... foolish boy... he was always hopeless at dueling... should have left it to the Ministry..." McGonagall cried.

"I tell yeh, if I'd got ter Black before little Pettigrew did, I wouldn't've messed around with wands — I'd've ripped him limb — from — limb-"

"You don't know what you're talking about, Hagrid! Nobody but trained Hit Wizards from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad would have stood a chance against Black once he was cornered. The only one being Matthew, perhaps, but he was long gone... I was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time, and I was one of the first on the scene after Black murdered all those people. I — I will never forget it. I still dream about it sometimes. A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him . . . a heap of bloodstained robes and a few — a few fragments —"

They all blew their noses at the same time.

Her father had died because he was there the night Voldermort tried to kill Harry.

She had been there as well, but somehow, some miraculous thing had happened and she hadn't been killed... perhaps Voldemort thought he could kill Harry first and then get rid of her, perhaps he thought he had enough time...

Her head was pounding, she wanted it to stop, she didn't want to keep listening.

"Well, there you have it, Rosmerta," said Fudge. "Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad and Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Class– just like Matthew did, which I think was some comfort to Pettigrew's poor mother and Matt's wife, though Emily tried to reject it for some time– she accepted in the end. Black's been in Azkaban ever since."

She only realized she was hurting herself when Hermione reached for her hand and unclenched it, her nails had been digging so hard against her palm there was now tiny drops of blood starting to appear on her skin.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018​ @vampiregirl1797​ @siriuslysirius1107​ @celestialhayi​ @mikariell95​ @omiwashere​ @steve-thotgers​ @tomshollandz​ @thesuitelifeofafangirl​ @kylosleftbuttcheek​ @reverse-hxlland​

[rhowena]

Pile of stuff concerning what happened to Loki between Thor and The Avengers

Originally posted on r/FanTheories

https://inforapid.org/webapp/webapp.php?shareddb=IAxUFHnwkGJSYMj9OFbT8mRl5goHm9SC2qHbWw4knO1cng5qI5Wrg48nP1MdgbWlJmHj6UpwbN343IqnstQUwxIIO01M5Rvb

As it does not escape my notice that I’ve created a digital version of this meme, some navigation help for anyone who needs it:

Mouse over/tap an item or relation to view its description

For items with the yellow ‘Note’ label, select the node and then 'Notes on Item’ in the side menu to view an additional notes page

If an item has a globe icon it the top-left corner, click it to open a webpage

'Adjust View’ in the side menu has controls to zoom in/out, increase/decrease the distance between items, and filter items or relations by category

Relations (and items) are color-coded by type: solid green lines are for in-universe evidence (light green connects evidence to the theory it supports, while dark green connects pieces of evidence that should be looked at together), purple dotted lines denote parallels, and dark red lines mark cases of “one of these things is not like the other”

And an overview of the theories contained therein:

First, the central piece of tinfoil around which all other tinfoil is arrayed: remember how, at the end of the first Thor, Loki was pathologically obsessed with gaining his father’s approval? And how, when he next showed up after vanishing for an entire year, he’d gotten mixed up with a guy who keeps a menagerie of adopted children? And how, during his argument with Thor on the mountaintop, he said this?

Loki: Did you mourn? Thor: We all did. Our father– Loki: Your father. He did tell you my true parentage, did he not?

Loki: I’ve seen worlds you’ve never known about! I have grown, Odinson, in my exile. I have seen the true power of the Tesseract and when I wield it—

Tom Hiddleston: There’s a bit where Thor says, “We all mourned! Our father…” and Loki interrupts him and says, “YOUR father.” And it’s that sense of 'don’t include me in this anymore. I have no relation or connection to you.’ It’s his way of saying 'I’ve let go, I’m gone, I’m on the outside of the fence, I’m happy here, I don’t want to come back in.’

If I may take a minute to get out some of my extremely complicated feelings on this, while there’s a bunch more evidence in favor of Loki having been another of Thanos’s children that can be viewed on the mind map, I want to highlight this pair of quotes because it’s everything implied by the words “Your father” that makes it into a devastating punch in the stomach which draws on both halves of Loki’s Woobie, Destroyer of Worlds characterization: his genuine love for his family is his primary redeeming quality and that he forswore it like this puts the terrible moment when he first knelt before Thanos and pledged himself to the Mad Titan’s service firmly into archetypal Faustian sell-your-soul territory, but when you consider the straits he was in at the time and the implication that Thanos initially ensnared him not through promises of power but by preying on him emotionally, it’s a very human kind of tragic mistake.

The other mitigating factor is that based on everything we’ve heard from Thanos’s other children, it’s a safe bet that he did in fact do unspeakably horrible things to Loki too – indeed, noticing the resemblance between the existing theories about Loki having been tortured/brainwashed and Gamora’s “He took me, tortured me, turned me into a weapon” was what prompted the above realization in the first place. (It’s reminiscent of Theon’s storyline in ASOIAF/GOT: yeah, he betrayed his adoptive family and did some generally awful stuff, but no one deserves what happened to him.) It also bears emphasizing that accountability cuts both ways: one of the key takeaways from the previous bullet point is that the suffering Loki went through doesn’t absolve him of responsibility for his villainous actions, but the other side of the coin is that Loki’s partial complicity doesn’t absolve Thanos of responsibility for the choice he made to take a broken, desperate young man who’d just lost everything and turn him into the rabid animal we saw during The Avengers, and I dearly hope that exploring the rich font of psychological horror that is that time period will erase any remaining doubt that Thanos’s claims of acting For The Greater Good are nothing but empty, egotistical, self-righteous posturing and everyone in the audience who insists on taking them at face value is being duped just as Loki was.

Stephen: No. I mean, come on. Look at your face. Dormammu made you a murderer. Just how good can his kingdom be?

As for where this is all going, I believe there’s a good chance that the Loki Disney+ series will be where they finally address this as a. the split timeline Loki the series will be following is still fresh from his time with Thanos and it will therefore have to explain what happened if we’re to understand the kind of headspace that he’s in at that moment and b. Tom Hiddleston has revealed that the series will also clarify whether or not Loki really is dead in the main timeline, and everything I have so far indicates that understanding the nature of his original pact with Thanos is essential to understanding both Loki’s choice to die and Thanos’s choice to kill him (see the 'Pledge of fidelity’ and 'Limited use’ notes pages on the mind map). Character-wise, I think one of the points of emphasis will be that Loki’s death in Infinity War doesn’t wrap up his story as neatly as it may appear to on the surface; truly completing his redemption arc will require him to confront this part of his past in full, and with it his guilt over everything he’s done and his fear that he’s wrecked his life and relationship with his family so thoroughly that he can never, ever fix them.

Loki: Can you? Can you wipe out that much red? […] Your ledger is dripping, it’s gushing red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? This is the basest sentimentality. This is a child at prayer… PATHETIC! You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code. Something that makes up for the horrors. But they are a part of you, and they will *never* go away!

An additional giant red flag indicating we really should be asking more questions about that time gap is a group of lines in The Avengers which reveal that Thanos taught Loki how to use the Tesseract.

The Other: The Tesseract has awakened. It is on a little world. A human world. They would wield its power, but our ally knows its workings as they never will.

The Other: You question us? You question HIM? He, who put the Scepter in your hand? Who gave you ancient knowledge and new purpose when you were cast out, defeated?

Loki: I’ve seen worlds you’ve never known about! I have grown, Odinson, in my exile. I have seen the true power of the Tesseract and when I wield it— Thor: Who showed you this power? Who controls the would-be king?

Sharing that kind of knowledge and power with someone as volatile as Loki strikes me as an monumentally terrible idea (and as much as I don’t want to be the person who throws a tantrum because their fanfic didn’t come true, I’m kinda salty that Thanos was defeated without it coming back to bite him in the ass), which leaves me wondering what Thanos hoped to gain that he believed would be worth the risks. My thoughts on that particular sub-puzzle are still somewhat hazy, but my basic sense is that there’s something weird going on between Loki and the Tesseract and wanting to exploit that connection is one of the reasons Thanos went to all the trouble of breaking him into submission.

Loki: So I am no more than another stolen relic, locked up here until you might have use of me?

The other reason for Thanos’s interest in Loki ties back to all that emotional twistiness I talked about earlier: he planned to leverage Loki’s anger and resentment towards his family in a bid to destroy Odin and Asgard from the inside.

Zemo: An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumbles from within? That’s dead… forever.

As a prelude to this, during The Avengers Thanos had additionally tasked Loki with killing Thor as a way to prove his loyalty and destroy the last remaining shreds of his own humanity, a test Loki failed because he still loved his brother too much.

Coulson: You’re going to lose. It’s in your nature. […] You lack conviction.

What’s more, Thanos anticipated this, and the Scepter’s influence over Loki was aimed at forcing him to go through with it if he refused.

Loki: I won’t touch Barton, not until I make him kill you! Slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear! And then he’ll wake, just long enough to see his good work, and when he screams, I’ll split his skull!

Lastly, even with Infinity War having established that Thanos simply gets off on emotional torture, that he would go out of his way to fuck with Odin personally by turning his second son against him leads me to believe there was a special hatred there stemming from some as-yet unrevealed history between the two. I mean, when I picture the alternate universe where Thanos shows up to attack Asgard with a corrupted Loki in tow like “You screwed up so badly that he chose me as a father figure over you” …that isn’t something you say to a complete stranger.

GRRM on writing villain POVs: That’s a comic book kind of thing, where the Red Skull gets up in the morning [and asks] “What evil can I do today?” Real people don’t think that way. We all think we’re heroes, we all think we’re good guys. We have our rationalizations when we do bad things. “Well, I had no choice,” or “It’s the best of several bad alternatives,” or “No it was actually good because God told me so,” or “I had to do it for my family.” We all have rationalizations for why we do shitty things or selfish things or cruel things. So when I’m writing from the viewpoint of one of my characters who has done these things, I try to have that in my head.

[readbythestarlight]

c2e84

Wow, that was a surpassingly normal ad!

Oh boy here we go lore drop!

Therizdune the chained oblivion who is chained at the bottom of the abyss

"He’s basically the boogeyman" if the boogeyman was a HORRIBLE ELDRITCH MONSTER

...IS the boogeyman a horrible eldritch monster?! Oh god.

[[MORE]]

This is great and awful like terrible abyssal eldritch things that can creep into the world through gaps and rifts encourages people to be violent and awful

Also I’m so satisfied that the chains actually ended up being significant

Okay so Yussah knows a guy who we know knows Trent, so... that’s not cool. I mean o totally trust Yussah now it’s not that, it’s just can we trust Ormid?

So not all the Cerberus assembly is bad re: Yussah. But like he’s basically a hermit living in his tower, yeah? Who doesn’t go into the Empire? So like how out of touch is he?

"Trent seems just creepy" that’s putting it mildly

Money? Ball bearings? xD

Oh nice some of the Halas money

Oh Nott honey

Fjord being like "Nott? Caleb please talk to your goblin."

And they’re just all discussing it in the background

NOTT DO NOT

oh boy don’t like that

Oh dear...

"Your FACE is stupid" oh Nott

Lock the gem away somewhere

"You’ll still work at it and try?" Oh honey of course he will

I like how they handled that. They didn’t put Nott down, they gently reminded her that Halas can’t be trusted.

Oh I hope that doesn’t trigger Caleb

And I hope that didn’t just fuck them over with Halas maybe

Cad’s like "can we not?" and then just silencing everyone who keeps trying to talk to him

Y’all need to call your OTHER wizard friend (aka HOTT BOI) to let him know you’re fine and not dead or anything cause this is probably the longest he’s gone without hearing from you

"Everything’s been smoothed over" I wonder if Dairon had anything to do with that

I wonder where she is...

Also this is late cause he said it like ages ago but I love Cad’s little bits of homely wisdom, like the whole holes in a bucket metaphor.

PLATINUMMMMMMM

A WHOLE SATCHEL

TIME TO BUY A KEEP Y’ALL

Kidding I like the xhorhaus

Holy SHIT

21,000 gold??

That puts them at 350 platinum which is like 3,500 apiece NICE

Please def check in with Orli I miss him

I’m gonna insist they all get either matching M9 tattoos or Captain tusktooth tattooes

ORLIIIII

Oh my

Yeah a charisma bump is a good choice Nott xD

YOU ALL BETTER GET MATCHING TATTOOS

"chaos crew" lol

Imagine the stories those "new faces" have heard of the M9 from the older crew

1312 gold not bad!

Fuck y’all I love Orli! I missed him. I hope Fjord retires and goes back to sailing with Orli and the crew someday.

F: "Can I ask, how painful is this... procedure?"

O: "oh-ho-ho! Quite."

Oh lord

B: "Is that infected? Is that infected?!"

O: "No, he’s just a.....................Pansy."

Girls day!

Ohhh I like that idea Nott! Can’t wait to see the new art of that.

I like the start of the idea but the "like the Traveler’s hugging me" is slightly creepy to me. Idk.

BeauJester shippers just got a gift xD

Oh... Molly’s all seeing eye tattoo. My heart. Taliesin looks really touched.

Omg a nat1

Ouch fuck Matt you didn’t have to describe that

Matt’s like "here’s your pretty tattoo Nott, here’s your very lovely tattoo Jester, here’s your TOTALLY BOMBASS tattoo that goes all the way up the BACK OF YOUR SKULL Beau"

like I’m not saying Matt plays favorites but his wife’s character definitely got the coolest tattoo

Boy talk over fish and chips heck yeah

Mmm gonna get some deep talk from Caleb?

Caleb expressing that he feels like maybe they’ve been brought together for a purpose <3

Cad telling him he’s believed Caleb was meant for something important since the beginning

Caleb the green bean farmer

"The god’s plant us, plant their will and their desire, and we move towards the fruit we’re meant for bear for them." Aw that’s... sweet, Cad.

Fjord being like "idk man I’m still figuring it out" what a mood

Caleb admitting he feels like he should run away

"I have started to forget what it was like not being with you people. And we are missing one, I am stuck on the fact that we are still missing one."

I wish I was fast enough to transcribe word for word this conversation because it’s excellent

I like Fjord’s question of "when you know, do you run away or do the right thing knowing it could kill you"

C: "You two are alright."

Cad: "We’re getting better."

F: "So are you, you know, you should give yourself credit."

C: "Mm..."

Cad: "I know... just think about it."

(Wow my old Widofjord feelings just came back with a vengeance.)

Cad adding in his own encouraging words about how Caleb is growing and becoming better made me happy too

C: "I hate tattoos."

Nott in the distance: AHHHH

C: "they’re just not for me."

Cad: "they’re frowned upon in my family."

And then they go see the girls

"We brought fish and chips—what they fuck"

All the Jester ships are eating well tonight

I’m so glad Jester finally got her cool tattoo

Y’all don’t want to see mom and Yeza and Luc?

lol Jester "I didn’t tell my mom about the tattoo"

"I’ve seen parents find out their kids had tattoos literally at the funeral"

I literally could not tell if that was Cad or Taliesin sharing

You guys didn’t even say bye to Orli! YOU MONSTERS

Boy that talks blurb with Brian talk about Caleb is GOOD SHIT MAN

No Brian don’t stop please go on and on about Caleb

lol Matt getting himself in the face with the paper

I knew Dairon was the one who got them out of trouble <3

EXPOSITOR OUTFIT AYYYY

just got new official art and now Beau gets a new outfit and the girls get tattoos xD

B: "I apologize"

M9: "wwwwwoooooaaaaahhh"

And library access again yay!

HEYYYY DAIRON

Beau gets to be a role model now lol

Oh yikes... selling out the Kryn to the King... don’t like that

Vence... NewTHEYLESS??

I don’t like that

Everyone: *excited freaking about Beau’s expositor room*

Cad, a good 10 seconds behind: "You had a monk bunk."

Dairon admitting she realized her prejudices against the Kryn were wrong. You know what that is? Growth.

They’re all so proud of Expositor Beau

Caleb trying to do "normal" accents is amazing lol

I don’t want him to be split from the group but I definitely understand his concern

Scary world ending lore oh boy

Oh god I forgot about the gentleman being here...

YES NO DO NOT GO ALONE that’s a dumb idea honey Jester please

N about J: "well she convides in everybody. Just says whatever she wants to say all the time."

This whole Beau and Nott conversation is amazing xD

Fjord and Jester: talking

Beau and Nott: talking

Caduceus walking along and enjoying the group communicating and sharing their feelings

Is he an earth genasi?

That’s the second time another wizard has called Yussah a fool, poor guy

I like how Ormid’s like "who the fuck are these people" but he also trusts Yussah enough to listen to them that’s nice

Hmmm I don’t like that’s awfully suspicious

WHISPERSSSSS

He keeps coming back to the beacon and I don’t like it

So like.. what if he is in on the whole thing and is trying to steer them away from looking deeper into the beacon?

Jester honey why you go and name drop Trent?? Like fuck.

Also interesting that both the King and his council have been more aggressive and pro-war lately, and the Bright Queen is also bent on the conflict in a way that I’ve personally felt doesn’t seem to quite mesh with her character, it definitely lends towards the idea that they’re being manipulated

Ormid’s a bit of a dick, although I guess I can understand, they’re not explaining themselves super well

Hng idk how I feel about Ormid and I’m not sure that I like that he now knows Dairon is working to get an audience with the king

But then again I’m bad about telling which NPCs are trustworthy and which aren’t.

Ormid’s face when they mentioned the cat OH MY GOD

okay fine god now I have to trust him

"I know we are talking about very important things but" I’m dying

Y’all fixing to get a symbol of the Cerberus Assembly damn

I don’t necessarily LIKE Ormid not entirely trust him but he’s already

Insight check on Sprinkles to see if he wants to go back with Jester aw

lol getting pet advice from him maybe I like him a little bit

PUMAT SOOOOL

it’s been so long!

PUMAAAAT SOL

Guys I have missed Pumat so much he just brings me so much joy

Fetch quest for Pumat DO IT PLZ

Oh

Wait

Basilisk oil that’s maybe not a great idea

GO SAILING TO THE ISLANDS

They gotta go to islands for Traveler Con right is that close?

"Let me get it from CritRole stats" lol

Oh thank god health potions

Armor boost oil is neat (plus 1 to AC isn’t bad) but ouch it’s pricy

I love that they CANNOT keep money they get it and then they spend it. It’s #relatable

Uh.... what’s happening to my boy?!

Caduceus?!

MATT WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY BOY??

45 pats slashing??

WHAT IS HAPPENING

CADUCEUS

oh NO

fuck no

Is there a rift near?!

WHAT THE FUCK

The Inevitable End?

WHAT IS HAPPENING?

Evil assassin person??

45 points of damage fuck

This is bad

Sam: “WE’RE SHOPPING MATT” MOOD

23 doesn’t hit?!

Oh they’re in trouble

God DAMN I’m freaked out omg

Does he have The Invulnerable Vangrent as a map??

God what a cliffhanger

[anubislover]

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya chapter 9: Mark of Property

She was back in her room. Not the comfortable bedroom she shared with Robin, which smelled of mikans, fresh flowers, and old books and was full of colorful, girly furniture and cute clothes. There was no golden glow from the lamps or cups of tea steaming on the coffee table. No calls from Luffy to come play a game or strands of Brook’s latest song floating in through the open window.

This was her room in Arlong Park.

Her prison.

Sea charts covered every available surface—tables, chairs, piled in stacks on the floor, hanging from the walls. All of them meticulously hand-drawn, but not on paper—the parchment was made of skin, the ink blood, the pen in her hand a human bone. Furiously, she mapped out her latest chart on a piece of freshly flayed-and-dried skin, Mr. Genzo’s scarred stretched out flat and lifeless, staring up at her.

Her hands were wet with blood, palms torn apart and fingers so twisted it was miracle she could even hold the pen, but she knew she couldn’t stop. Shackles bound her to the hard metal desk, harshly cutting into her thin wrists. The room was swelteringly hot, like a sauna, and sweat mixed with the blood dripping down her fingers onto the parchment, staining it and smudging the details.

“Still alive in here, Nami?” a cruel, deep voice chuckled, his dark shadow casting over her. “Got everything you need? I’m happy to head to town to pick up more paper.”

“I—I’m fine,” she croaked, hand trembling. “I have everything I need.”

Cold, rough fingertips combed through her hair. “Shahahahaha! Of course you do! I’ll always provide for my cute little navigator.” Without warning, a large, webbed hand grabbed her orange locks, slamming her head down onto the desk, smearing the wet blood across her cheeks.

“Look at what you’ve done, you nasty girl! You messed up your chart!” he sneered. Out of the corner of her eye, Nami could see a long, jagged nose and shark teeth viciously grinning down at her. “Guess you’ll need new parchment after all. Take your pick—the rubber boy, or your sister?”

“No, please!” she screamed, frantically trying to claw at his arm, struggling to get free. Her shoulder burned like it was being pierced by a thousand hellfire needles, the swirling, vicious shark insignia once more being slowly etched into her arm. “Don’t hurt them!”

“You’re one of my most trusted officers, Nami—I’ll do anything to help you achieve your dream,” he laughed mockingly. “You’ll stay in this room and draw your charts forever. That’s your place in the Fishman Pirates!”

“Leave me alone!”

“Leave you alone? I could never do that.” Arlong leaned forward until the tip of his saw nose lightly dented the fragile flesh of her cheek. His eyes were like those of a Sea King’s, full of predatory malice. “After all, you’re mine.”

“Nami? Nami! Nami wake up!”

Brown eyes snapped open as Nami was jerked awake, arms instinctively crossing over her face in defense. She tried to kick her assailant, but her legs were tangled in the blankets.

“Whoa, girl, it’s me!” Ikkaku said worriedly, concern written all over her face as she gently stroked her shoulder, hand gently encircling her wrist to pry it from her eyes. “It’s ok, you’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Heart racing while sweat dripped down her back, it took her a minute to register the engineer’s voice. “Wha…what happened?” she rasped, throat tight and dry. She gratefully accepted the glass of water Ikkaku offered her, the cool liquid fully waking her up. Rubbing her eyes, she took in the room around her. It was the one she shared with Ikkaku on the Polar Tang. There were no charts drawn on the skin of her friends, no blood, no Fishmen looking to enslave her.

“You tell me. Sounded like you were having one hell of a nightmare.”

With a tired groan Nami tried to push away the image of her former captain by focusing on untangling her feet. She glanced at her left arm, grateful to see the pinwheel and tangerine instead of the primal shark. “Yeah. A nightmare. Barely remember it now, though.”

The older woman frowned, clearly not believing her, but she’d learned in the two months they’d spent together that it was best not to pry into the navigator’s past and thoughts. “If you do remember and want to talk, I’m here for you. Or, Penguin’s kind of an amateur therapist—got his work cut out for him on this ship, but he’s a good listener if you need to get something off your chest.”

“I’m fine,” Nami insisted, running a hand through her damp hair. Though not as bad as the dream, the small bedroom felt stifling. “Really, it’s nothing to worry about. Probably just something I ate last night.”

“Alright. Why don’t you grab a shower and we’ll head to breakfast? I’ll strip your bed and toss them in the hamper for you.”

Looking down at the yellow sheets, she was shocked at how sodden they were. Had she been sweating that much? “Good idea. Thanks, Ikkaku,” she sighed, grabbing a pair of short shorts and a low-cut crop top and heading towards the women’s bathroom across the hall. The ship felt stuffier than usual, even though they’d surfaced just the other day. Nami was pretty sure it was because it had been nearly three weeks since they’d made port—Law had insisted on waiting before selling off their stolen goods, more interested in putting distance between themselves and the Marines first to play it safe. It was a fair point, but the thief had argued that the longer they waited, the more time the Navy had to put out descriptions of the various art pieces they’d stolen, which could also put them in danger.

Eventually, after much quarreling, a compromise was reached—they’d fenced Kujakumaru’s watch and melted down the squid statue at Knox Island, and also faxed a photo of Nami burning the blackmail ledger to the nearby Marine base. This would lead the authorities to assume they were making their way down the most southern path of the Grand Line, but in actuality, the Polar Tang would go north, cutting through two of the routes to instead reach the Isles of Grimm. Such a feat would be impossible to do on a normal ship, but the submarine’s high-tech navigational equipment, paired with an eternal pose, made it child’s play.

At first, the navigator had absolutely loved that Law was smart and cautious enough to avoid trouble, but after nearly three weeks, Nami was getting stir-crazy. As much as she’d complained about Luffy getting the crew into unnecessary danger in the name of adventure, she was starting to miss it. There had been no attacks, no mysterious phenomena, no royals in disguise that needed their help. Deep as they were underwater, even the Grand Line’s sudden storms barely affected them.

Somehow, that made her more anxious. It was like being in an isolation chamber, unable to feel the wind and sea in her bones. Or maybe she’d just gotten so used to Luffy’s mad pace that her body didn’t know what to do with itself now that he life hadn’t been endangered in almost a month.

Standing under the cool spray of the shower, she groaned. Part of her also wondered if her anxiety was because of the new birth control Law had put her on. The last one hadn’t been working as well as she’d liked, so he’d given her a shot of a new, stronger drug he’d developed. It wasn’t unusual for her body to react to new meds with a fever or mild insomnia for the first few days, but she was certain once her hormones adjusted to the new chemicals she’d be back to normal. Until then, she’d just have to endure feeling too hot and the occasional bad dream.

Just don’t dwell on it, she thought as she massaged shampoo into her short, mikan locks. Arlong’s gone. Luffy kicked his ass, and he can’t hurt you anymore. Absently, her hand rubbed her shoulder, fingers lightly tracing the thin scars beneath her new tattoo.

What she needed was a distraction. So long as she had something else to occupy her mind, she could push away the unease tingling beneath her skin.

Clean, cooled down, and wide awake, she threw on her clothes and shoes before joining Ikkaku, making their way towards the galley in companionable silence. She appreciated that she didn’t pry—she was beginning to consider the older woman a friend, much like Robin, but that didn’t mean she was ready to talk about her time with the Fishman Pirates. In fact, she was leery about getting too close in general—once the year was up and Luffy’s life debt was squared, their crews would be rivals at the very least.

What if they ended up clashing over the One Piece? What if their captains fought? Would she be able to stand against Ikkaku and Bepo and the others?

Sitting down at the table and shaking those thoughts from her mind, she decided to instead contemplate how different the Heart Pirates were from the Straw Hats. On an average day, by this time Zoro and Sanji would be well into their early morning squabble, Luffy’d be stuffing himself with meat, Usopp would have awed Chopper with his tall tales, there’d be deafening crashes and clangs from Franky’s workshop, and Nami would have punched at least three of her shipmates for any number of reasons.

In contrast, mornings on the Polar Tang were subdued, mainly due to the captain’s terrible insomnia. The lively crew knew better than to cause a ruckus before Law got his morning coffee, respectfully keeping their voices down until he gave them leave to talk.

In some ways, it was nice to have such a well-behaved crew, but it also made the sting of her nakama’s absence that much stronger. Sure, Luffy was a reckless idiot who was always trying to steal her food, but his carefree smile always made mornings a little brighter. Zoro and Sanji’s bickering and Usopp’s boasts were noisy yet comforting after years of traveling alone. Robin and Brook’s very presence was calming, even if the archeologist’s sense of humor was disturbing and the skeleton’s requests to see her panties drove her insane.

I wonder how they’re all doing? Nami wondered, absently pushing her scrambled eggs around her plate. Are they getting enough vitamin C without my mikans? Who’s keeping Zoro from getting lost? Is Robin ok being alone again? What about Brook? It’s not fair that he spent fifty years alone, just to lose his new crew after just a few days.

Brought out of her melancholy thoughts by Bepo taking his place next to her, she gave the bear a smile. “How’re the plans for the garden coming along?”

He returned the gesture shyly. “Pretty well. We’ve picked out a storage room to convert that should be empty once we’ve cashed in the treasure. Clione and the engineers have made some great progress with the sun lamps. Of course, they need to run some tests to make sure plants can really thrive under the conditions.”

She hummed in agreement. “No sense wasting money on seeds and stuff if everything dies right away.”

Bepo nervously twiddled his claws. “I was actually hoping you could help me figure out what we’ll need and work out the costs, since you’re good with money and have real gardening experience.”

It was funny how she wasn’t even tempted to charge him a consultant fee. Scary as she would have thought traveling with a giant bear would be, Bepo was the one she had developed the biggest soft spot for. Maybe it was because it was nice to finally have a fellow navigator to talk to and the Mink was so shy she couldn’t even imagine him as a threat anymore. Or maybe having a talking animal around just made her miss Chopper slightly less. “Sure thing, though I’m no expert on growing plants indoors.”

“Still have more experience than the rest of us,” Penguin pointed out as he kindly refilled her coffee cup.

“True. It’s why I told Captain Law to put you in charge of the garden,” Clione said from the far end of the table.

She frowned at the science officer. “I’m happy to help, but shouldn’t you be in charge of it? You’re Law’s chief biologist.”

“I specialize in marine biology—my knowledge of land plants and animals isn’t nearly as advanced, and that doesn’t mean I can grow anything. You’re honestly the only one here that can get this whole greenhouse experiment to work.”

Teeth worrying her lip, she felt her stomach twist in a knot. The thought of being given such a big project on her temporary ship didn’t sit well with her. What if it wasn’t finished before the year was up? Would they have to abandon the whole thing, or would they insist on keeping her around until it was done? “I’ll teach you what I can before I leave. Ten months should be enough time for you to develop a green thumb,” she insisted, forcing optimism into her voice.

His brow furrowed beneath his blunt bangs at the mention of her leaving. “We’ll see. Before we do any of that, though, we need to get the actual room set up. Aside from sun lamps and fertilizer, we need to set up a sprinkler system, temperature control, and a ton of other stuff.”

“So, we should wait to decide on what to grow, huh?” the bear asked gloomily.

“Oh, cheer up, Bepo. Law always says it’s never too early to plan. Grimm has that great bookshop, so pick up a guide to plants and see which ones will do best in lower light and damp conditions,” Shachi offered, shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth. His broken arm was healing nicely, a sling no longer necessary and the cast scheduled to come off tomorrow. Everyone knew he planned on keeping it, though, since Nami had signed it, the little hearts added around her name coaxing a heavy blush from the ginger.

“Assuming we ever make port,” Nami grumbled.

Sympathetic, he patted her hand. “Hey, we’ll get there; we’ve got you and Bepo as our navigators, right? How much longer is it supposed to be?”

“I actually checked this morning,” the Mink said. “If we stay on course, it shouldn’t be more than three days.”

She immediately perked up. “That’s not so bad. New clothes here I come!”

“Shhh!” Ikkaku shushed, peeking through the doorway. “Captain’s coming—chatter ends now.”

Mouths snapped closed and the crew became extremely focused on their breakfast as Law, groggy and sour, meandered into the galley, making a beeline for the full coffee pot. Penguin had prepped a fresh batch only minutes before, and without even hesitating, the captain raised the glass pot to his lips, gulping down the caffeinated elixir, barely taking a breath between swallows or even seeming to notice the brew was scalding hot.

Two months ago, the sight would have astounded and horrified Nami, but now she just rolled her eyes and let him drink without comment.

Instead, she took the chance to observe him out of the corner of her eye. She could tell he’d been getting less sleep than usual; his hoodie hung off him a bit more, the circles under his eyes were darker, and his already angular face looked narrower. The rest of the crew insisted that Law simply went through worse periods of insomnia once in a while, but Nami was certain it was because he was up late studying those ledgers. He’d spent most of the past three weeks locked away in his quarters or mucking about in the lab, and the few times Penguin had managed to drag him to the galley he’d barely paid attention to what he was eating, his amber eyes fixated on his notes. Once, Nami tried to sneak a piece of bread onto his plate to see if he’d notice, but Shachi snatched it away before the captain could accidentally take a bite.

After a few moments Law blinked away the last specks of drowsiness and turned to the crew, holding the half-finished coffee pot like a mug. “I have good news; we should be making port soon, there’s been no sight of Marines, and my contacts on Grimm are eager to take some gold off our hands.”

The pirates cheered while he fetched his morning onigiri from the fridge, strolling over to take his place at the head of the table, right next to Nami. It had become an unspoken agreement among the crew that she sit at Law’s left side during meals, though she wasn’t sure whether it was due to her status as a guest or because they had ulterior motives.

“Just gold?” she asked under her breath.

He smirked at her. “Well, gold, jewelry, paintings, and a few jewel-encrusted trinkets that I can’t actually discern the purpose of, but you get the idea. Far easier to fence than, say, chemical formulas.”

“Like the one you’ve been working on?” she accused lowly. She hadn’t been able to steal many glances at his notes, and what she had seen had been either in code or nigh-indecipherable scribblings, but with how fixated and secretive he’d been, she was suspicious.

“Why, yes, exactly like the formula for hyper-nutritious fertilizer I’ve been working on with Clione,” he replied smoothly, grin widening at her shocked expression. “Turns out Dr. Vegapunk’s work isn’t all weapons of mass destruction. I know how eager you are to set up that garden, so I thought I’d try to get that finished before we made port.”

Nami glanced at the biologist, who gave a nod of agreement, and she instantly felt reassured. Clione had a terrible poker face, so she knew it had to be the truth. “You didn’t have to exhaust yourself over that,” she scolded lightly. Now that she knew he wasn’t trying to start a war, she felt a little guilty about how much he’d pushed himself over such a minor thing.

“I wanted to have it completed so we’d know what to pick up while in Grimm. I assume you’re going clothes shopping?” he asked around a large bite of onigiri. It was kind of funny how such a fierce pirate had a habit of stuffing his cheeks like a chipmunk, but it was more relieving to actually see him properly eat again.

Mood lightened, Nami flashed a wide smile. “Yup! I’ve got belli burning a hole in my pocket and a wardrobe that needs filling. Nothing makes a girl feel better about being attacked by a giant squid like retail therapy!”  

“Speaking of clothes, were you ever supplied a uniform?”

“…yeah, why?”

He shrugged, taking another bite. “Well, considering how Grimm is an archipelago with one of the most dangerous black markets on the Grand Line, you’ll be required to wear it if you plan on leaving the ship.”

“Excuse me?” she asked, eyes narrowing dangerously.

“It’s for your own safety, Nami-ya. The place isn’t as nice as Sabaody—it’s full of brothels, drug dealers, back-alley doctors, pirates, bounty hunters, and slave traders. My uniform basically tells everyone you’re off-limits.”

“Not. Happening,” she sneered through clenched teeth, grip on her fork tightening like she might stab him with it.

There was no way in hell she was going to let Law stick her in one of his gross jumpsuits. Ikkaku might have been able to pull it off, but that was because she had that tomboyish energy; Nami preferred showing off her skin and feminine figure. Plus, she was still leaning on the theory that the Dark Doctor has some kind of weird fetish for fully clothed people, and that uniform basically covered every inch of skin south of her chin.

Most of all, the redhead despised the idea of anyone telling her what to wear. Clothing was more than just a luxury—to her, it was an expression of freedom. Her childhood had been full of hand-me-downs, and then Arlong’s horrible tattoo had further limited her wardrobe, preventing her from wearing certain shirts for fear of people seeing the shameful brand.

That jumpsuit, with the Heart Pirate Jolly Roger plastered all over, was basically a mark of ownership, and Nami would not be another captain’s property.

Law glared down at her, unimpressed at being refused. “I’m giving this order to everyone; if we were heading to a safer island, I wouldn’t care, but the last thing I need is for you to get kidnapped because you’re not recognized as a member of the Heart Pirates.”

Tension simmered in the air as she matched his stare. “I can take care of myself, Trafalgar, and I’m not a member of the Heart Pirates. We agreed nearly two months ago that you weren’t going to subject me to your crew’s dress code, and I’m holding you to that.”

“That was before I realized just how much of a trouble magnet you are. If I left you to your own devices, I’d find you in the grasp of a giant squid monster again. So, if you want to get off the ship, you’re going to wear the damn uniform and stick with at least three of your shipmates.” Taking another swig of coffee, he met her angry eyes unflinchingly. “Otherwise, I’ll have to keep you on my arm the whole trip, and I promise I have no intention of going clothes shopping. So, what’s it gonna be, Nami-ya?”

She glanced around the galley, hoping for anyone to back her up. She knew the guys loved watching her prance around in her skimpy outfits, so surely they wouldn’t want Law to cover her up and make her wear such a conservative, ugly jumpsuit, right? And Ikkaku was always cheering her on when she sassed the captain, so of course she could count on her for backup.

But she found no support among the crew. Everyone was either nodding in agreement or not even paying attention.

“Seriously?” she growled.

“We get it’s not your style, Nami, but he’s right—safety comes over fashion,” Penguin said, voice gentle but expression stern. “You’re a wanted pirate whose face is known all over the Grand Line—of all of us, you’d be the most tempting target for low-life bounty hunters.”

“You’ll appreciate it when you get there,” Ikkaku added. “It’s always damp and cold there, and it’s not like any of my warmer clothes fit you.”

“It’ll just be for a few days,” Jean Bart supplied helpfully. “And maybe if things go well, Captain Law will ease up and let you wear your normal clothes.”

Said captain gave Nami a considering smirk. “Maybe. So long as everyone is on their best behavior.”

With no backup and no alternative, the navigator knew she had no choice but to give in, even as she seethed inside. Part of her argued that she was making a big deal out of nothing, that it was just an outfit, but it just didn’t sit right with her. He’d assured her when they first made their deal that he wouldn’t make her wear the uniform, but here he was going back on his word.

Just like Arlong had.

She shook her head, banishing the thought. For all his faults, Law was a far cry from Arlong, and an ugly uniform was nothing like selling her out to the Marines for the sake of denying her freedom. Hell, she even had three days—more than enough time for him to change his mind. It was such a little thing, after all, so surely if she complained enough he’d give in to her demands to save himself the headache.

XXX

Three days later, the Polar Tang had successfully docked, and Law was leading Nami and half the Heart Pirates through the shady port. Jean Bart, Bepo, Ikkaku, and Uni all carried heavy chests filled with gold bars, artwork, and other goods Law’s contacts could easily fence, while the rest of the group carefully guarded them, keeping an eye out for pickpockets, enemy pirates feeling brave, and undercover Marines.

Appearance-wise, the Isles of Grimm certainly lived up to its name—a thick miasma of fog settled over the port, while narrow streets were lined with buildings made out of dark wood and stone, giving a very claustrophobic feeling. Scantily dressed women called from brothel balconies, and shady figures beckoned unwary travelers into shadowed alleys. Yet despite the atmosphere, it was unquestionably a thriving, bustling port, and the large assortment of shops were to die for. Clothing, books, tools, weapons, cartography equipment, gardening centers, souvenirs, food stalls—the place was practically bursting with places to spend money.

Unfortunately, Nami’s excitement was thoroughly dampened by her outfit. Despite the island’s cool temperature, she felt way too hot in her thick, canvas jumpsuit. Bulky, cumbersome, and unflattering to her gorgeous figure, she was positive it was what she’ll be forced to wear in Hell. It wasn’t even vibrant orange like Bepo’s, but bland off-white like everyone else’s. She was at least able to unbutton the neck and roll up the sleeves show her cleavage and vent the heat, and she’d taken in the waist a bit, but the material still felt coarse and heavy against her overheated skin. Worst of all, there was nothing she could do to hide Law’s Jolly Roger on the back and left breast pocket, branding her a Heart Pirate for all the world to see.

It made her left shoulder sting with a phantom pain, a harsh reminder of her years as one of Arlong’s officers.

“Whoever designed these uniforms should be dragged out into the street and shot,” she grumbled as she pushed down the anxiety her dark memories coaxed to the surface. She didn’t care if Law or anyone else heard her—hell, she’d been plenty vocal of her distaste over the past few days and he still insisted she wear the damn thing!

“At least they have pockets,” Ikkaku pointed out helpfully.

“Literally this thing’s only good point.”

Uni’s quiet voice beside her chimed in, “I know you don’t like it, but trust me, if Captain didn’t feel it was completely necessary, he wouldn’t go through the trouble of making you do it. At the very least, save your complaints until after we’ve cashed in our treasure—we don’t need the extra attention.”

She rolled her eyes but bit her tongue. Uni wasn’t a big talker, but when he did speak, it was usually sound advice. And given how a large group of uniformed pirates carrying goods naturally drew the eye, he definitely had a point.

That didn’t mean she wouldn’t silently pout, though.

As they strolled past the display window of a curiosity shop, Nami saw Law glance at something, then literally walk backwards to get a better look.

“Commemorative coins from the past six Reveries,” he murmured with hushed reverence, nose nearly pressed against the glass. “I’m missing a few of these.” Without even a glance back at the crew he sauntered into the store, Kikoku propped on his shoulder and wallet already in hand.

Surprised, Nami raised a curious eyebrow at Ikkaku, who giggled behind her hand. “Captain’s an avid coin collector,” she said.

Bepo added, “Every time we find treasure, he inspects every single coin in case there’s something he can add to his collection.”

“Seriously?”

“See, you have something in common,” Ikkaku laughed. “You’re both obsessed with money!”

The thief elbowed her in the side, quietly growling that she had “nothing in common with that jerk.”

“Yeah, you do,” Shachi chuckled. “Neither of you like taking orders, either, and you’re both really stubborn and irritable when you don’t get your way.”

“I am not!���

“Then what have the past few days been?” he retorted with a victorious smirk.

She glared but couldn’t quite argue the point. Admittedly, she blamed some of it on the fact that she’d still been feeling hot and anxious, and sleep had continued to be plagued with bad dreams. None so terrible that Ikkaku had to wake her up again, and half of them she honestly couldn’t remember once morning came, but it was at the point that every time she went to sleep, she woke up feeling more exhausted. She had nearly exhausted her supply of concealer covering up the circles that were forming under her eyes. So yeah, she’d been irritable, and maybe the uniform wasn’t the best hill to die on, but their captain was a grump when his insomnia got bad, so maybe they should cut her some slack!

Uni’s blunt tap to her shoulder kept her from bringing this up, as her attention was diverted to the newspaper in his hand. “Thought you might want to take a look at this—seems the world’s caught wind of our connection.”

Russet eyes widened as they landed on the headline, and she felt her heart stop as she quickly read the article.

HAS A STRAW HAT DEFECTED TO THE HEART PIRATES?

As the dust settles on the chilling attack on the Harpin mansion on Tokken Island, many are now claiming that the Heart Pirates did not act alone but were in fact aided by “Cat Thief” Nami.

A member of the Straw Hat Pirates with a bounty of 16 million belli, this elusive burglar was believed to have vanished with the rest of her crew, but several eyewitness reports claim that it was she who assisted “Surgeon of Death” Captain Trafalgar Law, a pirate with a bounty of 200 million belli, in his assassination of former Head of Navy Intelligence Baron “Gorudotako” Harpin Gerald.

“Of course, it was her!” states Inebura Kujakumaru, the late Baron Harpin’s nephew. “She may have struck me down when I valiantly attempted to stop her, but not before I got a good look at her tattoo. Every man’s seen her wanted poster, so I’d recognize it anywhere.”

“I don’t know how those pirates got into my brother’s party, but it had to be her,” confirms Inebura Beatrix, his mother. “Who else could have gotten past Gerald’s security? She and Trafalgar Law are in cahoots, yet the Navy hasn’t done anything about it!”

If such bold claims are true and it is “Cat Thief” Nami, could this be a sign that the Straw Hats are, in fact, dead? Is she the sole survivor and has chosen to defect to a new crew and aid them in their reign of terror?

Despite his family’s statements, Harpin Reginald, who is due to inherit his brother’s estate and become the new governor of Tokken Island, disagrees that the woman seen was really the infamous thief.

“The Straw Hats have been missing for months, but that doesn’t mean they’re dead,” he says. “Moreover, even if they were, why would one of them join a rival crew instead of an ally’s? It seems more likely that it’s an imposter or—excuse the pun—a copy-cat. I would not put it past the Heart Pirates to employ an imitator for the sake of throwing off pursuers and sending the world into an uproar.

“My brother had many enemies, however I doubt the Straw Hats were among them. Her presence makes little sense, and with his abilities, what would Trafalgar Law need a cat burglar for? I believe the young woman is merely an imposter whose presence was designed to send the Marines on a wild goose chase.”

Harpin adds, “However, whether or not the young lady was indeed ‘Cat Thief’ Nami is irrelevant to me. I leave it to the authorities to bring my brother’s killers to justice—my focus is on repairing the damage done to the island, both that caused by the Heart Pirates and Gerald’s gross mismanagement.”

Marine Captains “White Chase” Smoker and “Black Cage” Hina, who were both on the scene and battled the pirates to protect the trapped partygoers, were unavailable for comment, though Navy Headquarters assures the world that they are out hunting the culprits.

“Whether ‘Cat Thief’ Nami has defected to the Heart Pirates or the woman who aided Trafalgar Law is an imposter does not matter,” their formal statement decrees. “She will be caught and stand trial for her crimes of burglary, assault, murder, and piracy. Justice will be served.”

“You know, the biggest surprise in that whole story is that Reginald got the estate instead of the nephew,” came Law’s voice in Nami’s ear, startling her.

“Don’t sneak up on people!” she snapped, hand whipping out to strike him, though he easily dodged.

“But it’s so much fun,” he chuckled.

“You have a twisted idea of ‘fun,’” she growled, cheeks flushing as the stress made her temperature rise further. Part of her knew she couldn’t keep her connection to the Heart Pirates a secret forever, but to see the world speculate on whether she’d switched sides and if Luffy was dead was more painful than she’d imagined.

Her throat tightened as a thought came to her—did the others have access to the news? What would Sanji or Usopp or Robin say if they saw this? Surely they knew her well enough to know she’d never side with another pirate, right?

Taking a deep breath, she told herself to calm down. Of course her nakama wouldn’t believe those lies. Luffy had faith in her.

Her captain had never doubted her loyalty, and he wouldn’t start now.

Calm returned, she gave Law an unimpressed frown. “And seriously, that’s what you’re surprised at? I’m sure the Navy just seized the land and turned it over to Reginald to keep him from telling the world that Harpin had been leaking secrets.”

“Do you really think a man like him would take a bribe?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

“If it’s for the sake of the villagers his brother was willing to frame for terrorism and aiding pirates, then yeah, I do.”

“Hate to interrupt, Boss, but don’t we have an appointment to get to?” Shachi asked, not bothering to hide his amusement at their exchange.

“Yeah. Let’s cash our treasure in, then I think we can go our separate ways.” He tossed Nami a wink. “Hate to delay our Cat Thief’s shopping spree, after all.”

“You are in way too good a mood,” she groused while stomping past him, but she didn’t get far as a long, tattooed arm draped over her shoulder, lanky legs easily keeping pace with her angry strides.

“Cheer up, Nami-ya. Soon you’ll be swimming in cash and clothes,” he said smoothly. He looked much better than he had three days ago—with the fertilizer research done he’d clearly been sleeping better, and he was back to taking regular meals with the crew. The circles under his eyes were still unsettlingly prominent, but he seemed livelier and more alert, which was good considering how they were about to meet with people who regularly did business with pirates. “And personally, I think you look good in my uniform.”

“Of course you would, pervert,” she grumbled under her breath. She didn’t bother trying to shrug off his arm; there was no point, as he always seemed to find some new way to have his hands on her. At least the thick fabric of the jumpsuit dampened his hot, possessive touches.

Either he didn’t hear or simply decided to ignore her as he continued, “If it makes you feel better, you won’t be required to wear it when we go out for dinner tonight. You can wear whatever tiny scraps of clothing you want—just don’t complain when you inevitably get cold.”

“Oh, how generous of you!” she sneered quietly, keeping Uni’s advice in mind but unwilling to stand by and let Law tease her. “Really, it’s so sweet of you to give me permission to choose which of my clothes go on my body!”

Though she refused to look at him, she could feel his disapproving gaze. “Throw all the temper tantrums you want, Nami-ya; I’m not budging on this. It’s for your own safety. Of all of us, you, Bepo, and Ikkaku are the most likely to be targeted by slavers, so I’m making sure they realize that messing with you invokes the wrath of the Surgeon of Death.”

“Then why don’t you just stamp ‘Property of Trafalgar Law’ on our foreheads and be done with it?”

“Keep up your backtalk and I will,” he growled in her ear, leaning in so his hot breath danced across her sensitive skin. “At least for them. You, I’m thinking a collar and leash might be more appropriate, especially if it comes with a muzzle.”

Such a threat should not have made blood rush to her cheeks or her stomach clench, and once again she felt far too hot. “You know, for all Luffy’s flaws, at least he never forced his weird kinks on us,” she sassed, resisting the urge to open up the jumpsuit more so she could fan her flushed chest.

Law scoffed. “That’s because I’m not even sure he knows what sex is. Boa Hancock could throw herself at him wearing nothing but a smile and he wouldn’t even blink.”

“That’s not true,” she insisted. “At the very least, he seemed to appreciate seeing me naked.”

Next to her, the Supernova actually stumbled. “Wait, what? When did he see you naked?”

“Does it matter? Actually, he still owes me money for that.” Numbers adding up in her mind, she nodded to herself. “Add on two years of interest and I’ll be making a tidy profit off him.”

“I’m sorry, you charged him money to see you naked? I thought prostitution wasn’t in your repertoire?”

Craning her neck to glare up at him as she smacked his chest, she snapped, “Watch it, Trafalgar. He and the boys decided to spy on me in the bath, so I charged them 100,000 belli each. If you ask me, I was being nice for such a gross violation of privacy!”

His arm left her shoulder to raise up in surrender. “Ok, that’s fair. Considering what Ikkaku’s done to anyone dumb enough to peek on her, charging them is pretty light. My comment was out of line, and I apologize.”

“Are you sorry enough to let me wear my regular clothes?”

“Hell no, and if you keep trying to wheedle your way out of it, I’m going to make you wear it back on the ship, too.”

By that point, they’d left Grimm’s cramped shopping quarter to arrive at the meeting place—the much more open fields of the warehouse district. Gold eyes scanned the area before leading the crew inside an innocuous grey building that smelled faintly of spoiled vegetables. A few gas lamps allowed just enough light to see the dozen men waiting on the far side of the building, all muscular and rough looking, save one.

“Ah, Captain Law,” the scrawny man in front welcomed nasally. He wore a pinstriped, dark purple suit and silk top hat with a bejeweled buckle, straw-like hair sticking out in haphazard clumps as he gave a yellow-toothed smile. “So good to see you again.”

“Jinzo,” he replied with a curt nod, removing himself from Nami’s side to shake the man’s hand. “Where’s Kimo-ya?”

“Ah, my partner was victim to an unfortunate…accident just a few days ago. No clue whether or not he’ll recover, so I’m here in his stead. Really, it’s for the best; he may be well-versed in the organ trade, but I’m the one who specializes in gold.”

“If you say so,” he replied. He appeared bored, but Nami could see from the way his stance widened slightly that he was prepared for any sudden attacks. He was a smart man, and past black market dealings had taught him to never underestimate a man willing to regularly do business with pirates.

“Speaking of, I heard you amassed quite the haul on Tokken Island, and I see the reports weren’t exaggerated!”

Jerking his head, Law signaled for Jean Bart to open his chest. Even in the dim light, the gold bars gleamed like the sun. Belli signs appeared in Jinzo’s eyes as he eagerly took in the remains of the gold squid statue. After a moment, Jean Bart closed the lid with a snap, bringing the broker’s attention back to the captain.

“You’ve got the amount Kimo-ya and I agreed on?” Law asked.

“Ah, about that—you see, while your wares are certainly impressive, I’m a man of business. Kimo may have had a soft spot for you since you supplied him with so many…fresh goods, but I can’t allow his bias to affect my profits. I’m afraid that with the fees Mr. Giberson will charge me for using his warehouses to store the goods, plus the time and effort I’ll have to go through to fence off the individual pieces, your asking price was a bit high. So, I’ve decided not to give you a belli more than 200 million.”

“Excuse me?” Law snapped at the same Nami exclaimed “What?!” The rest of the Heart Pirates appeared just as outraged, with more than a few hands dropping to their weapons.

“It’s a perfectly fair price!” Jinzo insisted. “I’m even being charitable and including the bribe you’d inevitably have to pay me to keep me from selling you out to the Marines.”

“There’s more than that amount in a single chest,” the Surgeon of Death growled. “Kimo-ya and I agreed on 655 million.”

“I’m under no obligation to honor such a ridiculous price. I have warehouses fees, employees to pay, officials to bribe, and more. 200 million is fair.”

“Yeah? Well I’ve got a crew to pay, provisions to purchase, and a high-tech sub like mine isn’t cheap to maintain—655 million belli was me being generous, and that’s because I had such a good working relationship with your partner.” Gold eyes narrowed dangerously as his grip on Kikoku shifted. “As a businessman, I’m sure you understand that changing the price so drastically tends to sour a deal.”

He scoffed. “From what I heard, this isn’t even your full haul—I’d say I’m the one being cheated. Technically I’m paying 400 million belli, since I’m also giving up the chance to turn you in for your bounty.”

“Are you threatening me?” Law growled, the brim of his hat casting his eyes in menacing shadow.

“Oh no; I’m just saying that you should pick your battles carefully. Now, I have no time to barter like a fishmonger—I have other appointments after you. If you don’t like my offer, go peddle your wares to someone else.”

“That’s a great idea,” Nami chimed in, sauntering up next to Law, eyes narrowed in determination and a Cheshire smile on her lips. She hadn’t originally planned on getting involved, but if there was one thing she hated, it was watching someone try to cheat her and her associates out of their hard-earned money. “We do have other brokers lined up, don’t we, Captain? So, what’s stopping us from turning around right now and selling all this off to them?”

“Nami, what are you doing?” Shachi whispered behind her, but a signal from Law told him to back down.

“My subordinate is right,” Law replied, wrapping a long arm around her waist, squeezing her side gently in a silent show that he understood what she was doing and willing to play along. “We came here first as a favor to Kimo-ya, since he’s always been so good to me. I wanted to keep our working relationship strong, but if you’re taking over and won’t honor his price, we’ll have to take our business elsewhere.”

“You won’t find anyone on this island willing to pay you better,” Jinzo sneered. “I practically own the black market on these isles. Hell, I’ve got enough clout with the Underworld at this point that I could ensure no one this side of the Red Line will so much spit on you if you’re on fire.”

With a nonchalant shrug, he countered, “Then I’ll just head to the New World and open my trade there. If you’ve got so much influence, then my usual customers won’t retaliate when business from their favorite heart stealer suddenly dries up.”

“And your other appointments will have no issue working with a man who would turn a client in to the Marines,” Nami added with a cat-like smile.

Paling, Jinzo’s entire body went tense. Nami didn’t know much about the organ trade, but she’d wager that the type of people who specialized in buying and selling body parts wouldn’t have much problem with recouping their lost profits from the man who drove away their best supplier. Pirates she did know, though, and they definitely wouldn’t stand for government snitches.

“Perhaps…perhaps I could bump my offer up to 400 million,” he stuttered. “As a show of good faith.”

“Mmm, sorry, but that’s just not good enough,” Nami sighed, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. She was in her element—belli and bartering. When money was involved, she barely even noticed the stuffy heat of her jumpsuit, and the tension in her bones practically vanished. For the first time all day, she was calm and in control. “I mean, we went through a lot to get this gold, and you just threw that hard work back in our faces. Months of planning, injured crewmembers, emotional trauma, transportation fees—it all adds up. We won’t part with a single piece of gold for less than 730 million belli.”

“What?!” Jinzo shouted as Law gave her a curious glance.

Smirking, the thief winked at her partner. “Captain Law was giving a generous discount to Mr. Kimo, but as you’ve so astutely pointed out, you and he don’t share such a close relationship. So, your price, Mr. Jinzo, is 730 million.”

“I won’t pay that! Perhaps I could accept 523 million without the bribe, but you’re being simply outrageous! And I’m not haggling with some rookie upstart’s whore!”

“And just for that insult, you’ve upped the price to a cool 750 million,” Law cut in, voice low and dark, sending a shiver down the spine of everyone in the warehouse. His grip on his nodachi had noticeably tightened, and even a man as arrogantly foolish as Jinzo could tell that he was on dangerously thin ice. “That’s my final offer, by the way. Try to talk me down or degrade a valued member of my crew again, and I’ll not only walk away, but I’ll take your heart and a few other major organs for my trouble. Kimo-ya and I got on so well because he respected my abilities and knew not to play games with the Surgeon of Death. So make your choice: belli or body parts?”

Nami could see that while the guards tensed, they looked more ready to run than defend their employer. It wouldn’t surprise her; she doubted Jinzo was paying them enough to risk getting their hearts ripped out, and if they knew anything about Law’s abilities, they’d know even running wouldn’t do them much good.

Seeing he was outgunned and outmaneuvered, the dealer clenched his fists but finally gave a stiff nod. “Fine. Men, hand over the cash.”

Grunting, three men lugged over five large briefcases. Cocking an eyebrow, Law activated his Room, scanning their contents. “You’re 25 million short,” he said, tone belying mild amusement.

“This is all the money I brought for the next three deals I had scheduled for today! Thanks to you, I’m going to have to reschedule so I can get more,” he snapped with a deep scowl. “My next client in particular will not be happy about that, and I won’t hesitate to inform him of exactly whose fault it is,” he sneered, eyes burning holes into Nami’s skull.

“I’m quaking in my boots. Still, since you can’t pay up, we’ll just keep some of the treasure.” Leading Nami over to Ikkaku’s chest, he opened it, the diamond necklaces and gem-encrusted trinkets twinkling in invitation. “Nami-ya, you’ve got a good eye for appraisal—see which of these can be removed to better match Jinzo-ya’s budget.”

Nodding, she carefully studied the contents of the chest, clever brain rapidly crunching numbers before she finally reached in, carefully removing a small, egg-shaped music box, its alabaster surface studded with pinhead-sized sapphires and spiderweb-thin seams of rose gold. Admiring the craftmanship and beauty for a moment, she carefully handed it to Law. “This is easily worth 25 million.”

With a smirk he shoved the music box into his hoodie pocket, snapped the lid of the treasure chest shut, and activated his Room again, switching the chests in his crews arms with the briefcases full of money in the guards’. “Then it seems our business is concluded.” Turning to leave, he flipped Jinzo off over his shoulder. “Bit of advice, Jinzo-ya; don’t try to cheat pirates, especially those of the Heart variety. It’ll get you killed one of these days.”

Eager to escape the off-putting stench and stuffy heat of the warehouse and hateful glare of the underworld broker, Nami didn’t even mind when Law’s hand settled on her lower back, gently but firmly pushing her towards the exit. Though Law had gotten in the last word, it was obvious that Jinzo’s vitriol was focused on the woman who had managed to nearly quadruple what he’d planned to pay with just a few words. It sent a cold shiver down her spine, which would have been a welcome relief if her stomach wasn’t twisting up in anxious knots.

Once outside and making their way down the road, the Dark Doctor grinned proudly down at Nami. “From now on, I’m taking you to all my business meetings. That was a thing of beauty.”

“Damn straight it was!” Ikkaku cheered from behind them, pumping a fist in the air. “Son of a bitch will think twice before trying to screw us again!”

Jean Bart chuckled. “Wish I’d had someone like you on my crew back when I was a captain—could have bought a private island and retired early instead of getting enslaved.”

Nami shrugged but glowed under the praise, mood further improved by a cool breeze fanning across her heated skin. “Oh, it was nothing special. I did all the negotiations on the Sunny, so I’ve had plenty of practice. When Luffy, Usopp, and I traded in our gold from the sky islands, a banker tried to offer us only 100 million belli, but I convinced him to triple the price,” she said with a saucy wink.

“How the hell was Straw Hat not swimming in cash?” Shachi asked, astounded.

She sighed, brow twitching in irritation. “Half the time he’d leave the treasure behind because ‘the villagers needed it more.’ I mean, he was usually right, but it drove me crazy.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that with us!” he said with a grin. “With you on our crew, the Heart Pirates won’t even need the One Piece!”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Law said. “The One Piece isn’t just treasure—it’s the only way to become King of the Pirates. I’m not going to settle for riches when the ultimate prize is out there waiting for me.”

Right, he wants to be Pirate King, too, Nami thought, frown deepening in concern as her muscles tensed. It’s one thing to help a guy to square a debt, but I can’t help him steal Luffy’s dream! “I’m kind of surprised you guys are still on this side of the Red Line, then—aren’t you worried someone else will get to it before you?” she asked cautiously.

“Nah. With Whitebeard dead, the New World’s in absolute shambles—hundreds of pirate crews are going to sail to their deaths while the Emperors fight over territory. I’ll let those underprepared idiots take themselves out, then cross over when the time is right.”

A small, relieved puff of air escaped her lips. With luck, he wouldn’t take that leap until she was back on Weatheria, though she was now nervous about what kind of chaos she’d be sailing Luffy into.

The cooling breeze vanished as they once more entered the sheltered streets of the shopping quarter. Ushering them off to the side so they wouldn’t draw too much attention from curious vendors, Law finally removed his hand from Nami’s back to activate his Room. Quickly and quietly, he teleported a few wads of cash into each crewmember’s pockets. Weird as it felt, Nami had to appreciate that it was far safer than handing out wads of money where any onlooker could see and pick out an easy mark.

“Alright, I suppose this is where we all head off to enjoy the fruits of our labors. Jean Bart, Uni and I will head back to the ship to get everyone else their share and lock up the rest of the cash. As for the rest of you, avoid fighting unless necessary, stick to your groups, and don’t make yourself a target.” With a smirk, he took Ikkaku’s briefcase before glancing down at Nami. “Enjoy your shopping, Nami-ya, but no ditching the uniform.”

“Good thing you won’t be around to stop me,” she quipped. Without the breeze, Nami was once more close to sweating in her jumpsuit, and despite no longer being under Jinzo’s penetrating stare, the anxious knot hadn’t quite managed to untwist in her belly. Her body was still on high alert, her senses sharp in anticipation, which just made every brush of heavy fabric more abrasive. Without thinking, she grabbed the collar of her suit to fan herself, only to stop upon realizing she was inadvertently giving Law a better view of her cleavage.

“Good thing Ikkaku, Bepo, and Shachi are under strict orders to make sure you behave yourself,” he shot back, tone laced with amusement as he eyed the flushed mounds of flesh, causing Nami to heat up further with embarrassment.

She cursed under her breath. Not only had she basically flashed Law—which he’d probably assumed was her flirting—but he’d successfully backed her into a corner. If it were just one of them, she might have been able to talk her way into a change of clothes, but with all three she knew she was shit out of luck. One Heart Pirate could be reasoned with, but when they were in a group, the captain’s word was law.

Seeing the despairing expression on her face, Ikkaku wrapped her arm around the younger woman’s shoulders, inadvertently rubbing the uncomfortable fabric against her scars. “Cheer up, Nami—Boss is just worried that two stunning pieces of ass like us will captivate the whole island with our insanely good looks. He doesn’t want anyone carrying away his two hottest subordinates.”

The redhead had to chuckle a bit at that, even if her stomach twisted further at being so earnestly referred to as “Law’s subordinate.” It was unsettling how everyone acted as if this was more than just a temporary alliance.

“I’m happy to carry your bags, Nami,” Shachi offered with a boyish grin, hoping to raise the navigator’s spirits.

Law frowned. “Your cast just came off; don’t over-exert yourself.”

“I’ll be fine, Boss! How heavy can clothes be?”

“Well, if you insist,” Nami cooed sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes. With luck, the time she took to try on clothes would be enough to cool her down, and she would never say no to someone else carrying her things. “Thank you, Shachi-kun.”

His cheeks turned as red as his hair and he rubbed the back of his head bashfully. “A-anytime, Nami.”

Glancing over at Bepo, Law sighed. “Anything goes wrong, find me immediately. Marines, enemy pirates, angry mobs with pitchforks, whatever. And don’t let Nami-ya out of your sights. I’m counting on you.”

“Aye-aye, Captain!” the trio shouted as Nami rolled her eyes.

They’re like a bunch of eager puppies, she thought as they led her away, eagerly chattering about which store they should hit first.

Feeling an intense stare, she turned her head slightly to see Law watching her go, a satisfied smirk creeping to his lips. Realization hit her quickly and her entire body tensed up—he was staring at the Jolly Roger on her back.

His emblem. His trademark. His property.

It was the same way Arlong would stare at her, only hungrier.

Unnoticed by her companions, her muscles remained tense even as they walked away, heart pounding so loud she nearly didn’t hear Ikkaku when she asked, “So, where to first?”

“How about the bookstore?” Bepo offered, poking his long claws together.

“Hey, it should be Nami’s decision!” Shachi scolded, to which the bear offered a weak apology.

“The bookstore’s fine,” she choked out, willing her racing heart to calm down. There was no need to panic—Law was probably just staring at her like that because he was a weird pervert who got turned on by people in baggy clothes. Somehow, his anti-nudity fetish was a lot more comfortable than the idea that he saw her the way the Fishman Pirates had—a tool to be used and kept at any cost.

“Books it is,” Ikkaku declared, looping their arms together and dragging them down the winding roads. Luckily, the further they got from the intense captain, the easier it became to breathe, her heartbeat nearly back to normal by the time they entered the bookshop.

The smell of paper, ink, and leather binding finished the job, as it reminded Nami of the library on the Thousand Sunny, and even more of Robin. Looking around, she had to grin at the tall shelves of books that made the store a veritable maze. Robin and Chopper would spend hours in a place like this, browsing and picking out an enormous stack of medical tomes, novels, historic texts, and more to fill the ship’s library with. The memory brought a smile to her face as her anxiety receded like an ocean wave, and the cool, dry air against her skin allowed Nami to regain her enthusiasm for shopping.

“If anyone needs me, I’ll be over by the ‘How To’ manuals and laughing,” Ikkaku called before disappearing into the stacks.

Shachi shook his head, but there was a hint of an affectionate smile at the corner of his lips. “Someone’s really got to tell her one of these days that those books are supposed to be serious instructions, not comedy.”

“But not you?” Nami joked.

“Not a chance. I’m going to grab the latest issue of Sora, Warrior of the Sea, then check out the fashion magazines. The other day Penguin said my hat’s the ugliest thing in existence, so by the end of today I wanna find something so ridiculous he’ll beg me to change back.”

Down to two, Bepo gave a shy smile. “Want to check out the horticulture section with me?”

It was almost physically painful to deny any request for the bear, but there was something she wanted to grab first, and she didn’t need him finding out her guilty pleasure and potentially spilling it to his captain—that jerk did not need any more ammo to use against her. Patting his arm, Nami replied, “I’ll meet you there later—I realized during the long, boring trip from Knox that I was in desperate need of good literature, and no offense, but your ship’s library just doesn’t have anything to my taste.”

“Not even my navigational books?” he asked sadly.

“Oh, those were fine, but I mean reading for pleasure. You know, a good, exciting novel. Without Luffy around, I’m actually starting to miss the thrill of adventure.”

The bear scratched his snout. “Huh. Personally, I like that Law doesn’t take unnecessary risks, but I guess everyone’s different. I can wait while you pick out your books.”

Waving her hand nervously, she insisted, “Oh, no, it’s ok! You start checking out the books on plants and I’ll join you in a bit!”

“But Law told me not to let you out of my sight.”

Exasperated, she rolled her eyes. “I know, but I’m not going to run off or ditch the uniform—knowing my luck, I’d run into him the second I walked out of the store.”

Cocking his head in thought, Bepo finally nodded. “Ok, but you’d better keep your word—if you disappear, Law’ll be really mad at me,” he said, ears drooping and grey clouds forming over his head at the mere thought.

“I promise I’d never intentionally do anything that would get you in trouble,” she said earnestly, provoking a happy grin from the massive Mink.

“Ok! Just don’t take too long!”

Sighing in relief as Bepo jogged off to the gardening section, the coast was finally clear for Nami to creep to the back corner of the store where she’d spotted her prize.

Romance and Erotic Fiction.

Though most assumed she only read cartography books, fashion magazines, and almanacs, in truth these were her guilty pleasure. Running her fingers down the spines of the paperbacks—many sporting a half-dressed woman wrapped in the passionate embrace of a shirtless, unnaturally chiseled man on the cover—she wracked her brain for the list of novels she’d read and which ones she’d been looking for. Her tastes were fairly specific; the setting had to be interesting, the sexual tension palpable, and the leading lady had to be smart and sassy while the men were sensual and mysterious.

“Aha!” she squealed, eagerly plucking the book she’d been searching for from its place on the shelf: To Catch a Turtle Dove. It was about a beautiful and resourceful thief who decided to rob the royal palace but was caught by the dark and dangerous ruler. She’d bought a copy back in Saboady, the first few chapters having captivated her when she’d read them in the store, and she wasn’t going to wait nearly two years to find out what happened. The thief had just made it to the royal ball, and if the intense eye contact she’d made with the lord from across the room was anything to go by, it was worth buying a second copy.

“What are you doing back here?” a voice from behind asked, making her nearly leap out of her skin.

“Damn it, Ikkaku, don’t scare me like that!” she growled as her heart started palpitating again. What was with Heart Pirates and sneaking up on her, anyway? Did Law order them to do it to mess with her, or was it an unconscious habit they’d picked up from their captain?

The older woman looked at the erotic fiction novels around them, raising a dark eyebrow. “Didn’t think you were into this kind of stuff, Nami,” she teased.

A faint blush warmed her pale cheeks, though the teasing tone did calm her down. Ikkaku really was like Robin in the strangest ways. “Shut up,” she grumbled. “A girl’s got needs, right?”

“Hey, not judging—if anything, it explains how you’re able to hold your own against the captain. Most girls swoon at just a few of his lines, but you’ve probably seen them all before, huh?” she said with a wink.

Nami giggled, glad Ikkaku was laughing with her, not at her. “Something like that. Besides, why bother with real men and all their flaws when you can get the same result from a good book?”

“If all it takes is words on a page to get you off, you’re even more repressed than I thought,” Ikkaku sniggered, easily blocking Nami’s indignant punch. “And trust me, men may be idiots, but a good, hard fuck is worth more than any book.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she scoffed, turning around to pick out a few more paperbacks.

Casually browsing the titles beside her, Ikkaku said, “You know, it’s pretty obvious that the captain’s into you—”

“Nope!” Nami cut her off, cheeks going crimson. “Don’t even suggest it! Ours is a purely business relationship and there are so many ways getting physical with him could go wrong. I’ve got ten months left with you guys, and I’m not putting myself in an awkward position.”

“Make all the excuses you want, but I know you’re just mad that he’s beating you at your own game.”

“Not true.”

“Please, Bepo told me how you managed to give Law that sunburn, and the hickey you came back from the gala with says he paid you back with interest. What’s awkward is watching you act like such a tsundere about it.”

“I’m not—like you said, I’m just a little pent up. A few steamy novels and it’ll be out of my system, without the messy consequences that come with sleeping with your captain.”

“If you’re not going to indulge, at least consider investing in a decent vibrator,” she sniggered. “Because I can tell you, when Law wants something—or someone—he does whatever it takes to get it. If you think he’s a massive tease now, it’s only going to get worse as time goes on, and I’ve seen stronger pirates than you fall at his feet. If anything, those books’ll just make you hornier.”

“You know what, Ikkaku—” Nami started, annoyance and embarrassment making her temper flare.

“Miss Nami, when you’re done, can I get your opinion, please?” Bepo asked shyly, fuzzy white head poking around the corner.

Reigning in her emotions while quickly hiding her books behind her back, she flashed him a smile. “Sure thing, Bepo! Just give me a minute!”

He returned the smile, disappearing back into the store, surprisingly quiet for a creature his size.

With a grin, Ikkaku shook her head and took the naughty paperbacks from Nami’s hands. “Here—I’ll grab these for you while you help our favorite crewmate. I’m sure you don’t want him asking awkward questions about what you’re reading, right?”

Coughing into her fist, Nami looked away bashfully. “Thanks.”

“We’ll finish this discussion later. I saw a flyer for Ladies’ Night at one of the local bars tomorrow. Wanna join me?”

“Sounds fun, but only if you promise to go five consecutive minutes without talking about your boss while we’re there. I don’t want our whole friendship to be based around your matchmaking schemes.”

“And here I thought teasing you was fair payment for letting you steal my clothes,” she laughed, bumping their hips together. “Remember you owe me an outfit, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nami laughed before taking off to find Bepo. Despite her teasing, Ikkaku was a good friend. She just really needed to lay off the insinuations that she and Law needed to get it on.

XXX

Three hours and eight clothing stores later, Nami was completely ready to ditch the boiler suit. The boutiques hadn’t been as pleasantly cool as the bookshop even when she stripped down to try on new outfits, and every time she had to put back on that hot, confining garment had felt like torture. Parts had even started becoming damp with sweat, furthering her discomfort. The heat was exhausting, too, yet she still felt anxious, trapped energy thrumming under her skin like she’d drank too much coffee.

The uniform was ruining her shopping experience in other ways, too. Thanks to its completely unflattering silhouette and drastic lack of sex appeal, flirting her way to better discounts was harder than usual. Sure, her cleavage and fluttering eyelashes had gotten her down to 50% off in the shoe store, but the clerk at the lingerie boutique had barely given her 30%! Plus, every time she caught a glance at herself in a mirror, dressed head-to-toe like a Heart Pirate, Jolly Roger grinning at her from her left breast pocket, she felt her scar throb. No matter how many cute outfits she tried on, all she could see was that damn insignia mocking her, declaring she was once more some sick pirate’s property.

“I hate this thing so much,” she groaned, irritably tugging the zipper down to her sternum, hoping to vent just a little more of the heat trapped beneath the thick canvas. “Please, can’t I take it off now?”

“Sorry, hun, but it’s for your own safety,” Ikkaku replied with a frown. She couldn’t understand why Nami was complaining so much; yeah, it wasn’t the sexiest ensemble, but it kept Grimm’s damp chill and the scumbags at bay. “Just hold on a bit longer, then we’ll head back to the ship and you can change out of it.”

The thought of going back to the ship made her whine pathetically. The submarine would be even hotter—she was wholly starting to sympathize with Bepo. Hell, how was he not dying in his own jumpsuit? He had fur, shouldn’t he be suffering just as much?

“Cheer up, Nami!” Shachi said from behind the mountain of boxes he was carrying. His healed arm was certainly being put to the test, but Nami couldn’t feel too guilty—after all, he’d offered. “I think you look great in the uniform!”

“Yeah,” Bepo added with a smile. He had also been roped into carrying the girls’ purchases, the dozens of shopping bags looped around his arms sticking out like colorful wings. “You really look like one of us.”

She froze in her tracks as her heart stopped. “…excuse me?”

“You look like an official member of the Heart Pirates,” he said, cocking his head in confusion at her tone. Surely, that was a nice compliment, right?

“Soon enough you’ll be sporting a tattoo!” Ikkaku teased, not noticing how pale Nami’d become due to the dark shadows cast by the buildings.

The redhead’s blood went cold. She knew they were kidding. She prayed they were kidding. Her hand unconsciously gripped her shoulder, clutching at the phantom tattoo. The mark she still had nightmares about.

“Hey, that’s a great idea!” Shachi exclaimed, certain he’d found the solution to keep both the pretty navigator and their captain happy. If not, hopefully it would make her appreciate the jumpsuit a bit more. “If you got a tattoo, maybe Law’ll ease up on the dress code. We’ve all got one—it’s how we can show we’re Heart Pirates even out of uniform.”

“I don’t,” Bepo pointed out.

“That’s because you can’t tattoo fur, idiot!”

“Sorry.”

Not wanting to deal with an argument between the two males, Ikkaku cut in, “Sounds good to me. How about it, Nami? I happen to know an artist who’ll give you a great discount,” she added with a wink.

“Of course she wants one! The real question is; where should she get it?” Shachi joked. “Law’s got it on his back, and Penguin’s is on his shin. Don’t ask where mine is—at least, not without buying me dinner, first!”

“Tramp stamp. You’re definitely getting a Heart Pirate tramp stamp,” Ikkaku laughed, deviously rubbing her hands together. “I’ve already got the design sketched out!”

Though it was said in jest, all Nami could hear was cruel cackling as she was overwhelmed by the memory of being helpless and in pain, branded by a sick and possessive monster.

“Hold still, human!” Chew sneered as the needle pierced her skin.

“Stop it! It hurts!” Nami screamed, her tiny fingers desperately clawing at the table Kuroobi pinned her down on. His enormous hands easily spanned her entire back, but she refused to just lay there and let them brand her. Tears rained from her large, childish eyes, lip bleeding from the slap Chew had given her earlier.

“Smek. Who cares if it hurts? Quit wiggling around so I don’t mess up.” The clammy, webbed hand on her arm tightened, cutting off the blood flow and threatening to crack the fragile bone beneath as he continued to ink the design.

“Shahahahaha! You should be honored, Nami! You’re the only human in the world to be graced with my mark,” Arlong laughed from his chair, watching her futile struggles like a shark would an injured baby seal. “Consider it your official welcome to the Fishman Pirates!”

“I don’t want it!” she screamed as another wave of agony wracked her tiny body. In all of her ten years she’d never felt such pain, and she was helpless to do anything about it. “Make it stop!”

Kuroobi’s hands pressed down harder against her back, forcing the air from her lungs. “We don’t take orders from worthless humans,” he sneered, blue-tinged face twisting in a sneer.

“It’s for your own good, girl,” Arlong said with a twisted smile. “Someone with your raw talent is a valuable commodity. Pirates the world over are gonna want you—I’m just making sure they know to keep their hands off.” Getting up, he strolled over to the pinned girl with the casual grace of a barracuda in the water. Course as sandpaper, the tip of his finger stroked across her tear-stained cheek. “I’m keeping you safe—after all, you’re part of my crew.”

“Nami, are you ok?”

Pulled from the horrible memory, the navigator stepped away from her companions, russet eyes wide with fear. “You’re not tattooing me,” she gasped. It felt like Kuroobi’s hand were still crushing her chest, and her nails dug into her left shoulder so hard they threatened to dig through the off-white canvas.

“Hey, it’s just a—”

“I’m not letting you fuckers brand me like cattle!” she shouted, fear replaced by fury as she pulled out her Clima-Tact, brandishing it as threateningly as she could despite her shaking arms. Nami was a wild animal backed into a corner, desperately showing her claws in hopes of scaring off her hunters.

The Heart Pirate trio froze, jaws dropping in shock. “Whoa, Nami, that’s not—”

“Quit acting like I’m one of you! Quit acting like I’ve betrayed Luffy! I’m a Straw Hat, not a Heart Pirate!”

“Hey, no one’s saying you betrayed anybody,” Ikkaku assured, hands raised in hopes of showing she was no threat to the young navigator. “We’re just trying to make you feel welcome.”

“I don’t want your welcome!” she shrieked. Cold sweat ran down her back, her heart was racing, and her body was on fire. She felt trapped, both by the people across from her and by the stifling jumpsuit. “I don’t want your fucking tattoo, or your uniform, or—”

“The uniform’s to keep you safe!” Shachi insisted, silently motioning for Bepo to sneak around and subdue her before she hurt herself. He took in her flushed cheeks, ragged breathing and glazed eyes, and his tone softened with concern. “Look, why don’t we head back to the ship? You don’t look so great, and I’m sure if you talk it out with the captain—”

In her panicked brain, she didn’t register that they meant Law, not Arlong. “I’m not going back! I’m not that monster’s property!” she screamed as she blasted a heavy gust of wind from her staff, knocking the trio back hard into a nearby fruit stand. The tower of clothing and shoe boxes collapsed, falling on top of them, and vendors nearby shouted as their carts were upended.

Using the chaos to her advantage, Nami dashed off, ignoring the worried cries of the Heart Pirates behind her.

[juliussneezerfics]

Blood Red Lilies and Baby Blue Cornflowers: Chapter 1 - Lilies

Germany has caught hanahaki. As he comes to terms with this, he loses a war, is separated from his brother, and learns about his fellow nations.

THIS IS NEW CONTENT. THERE IS MORE WRITTEN THAN WHAT WAS IN THE SNEAK PEEK. 

Ao3

****

Germany sat in his tent, his stare icy as he read the headline in the paper. He was seated at his desk, the surface of the wood littered with assorted pieces of paper, maps, reports, expenses. Death tallies. He noiselessly set the paper down onto the desk, folding his hands and staring ahead. Thinking. He supposed he couldn’t blame him. Who could? They were living in a personal hell. They were doomed to lose. So why did his heart ache with something akin to… betrayal?

He didn’t even look at the flap of the tent as it opened. In his periphery, he caught the olive green of a German uniform.

“What?” He asked.

“You know I don’t speak German.” Said a familiar, light voice.

Germany’s heart dropped in his chest. He whipped his gaze onto the person who entered his tent.

Italy looked unusual out of his trademark blue uniform. He was donned in a German military coat that was clearly too big for him. On his head was a hat similar to Germany’s own. Italy’s curl had been smoothed beneath the cap. His face was heavy with what could have been regret, fear, or a mix of the two.

Germany stood from his seat at the desk. “Italy.”

“Germany.” Italy returned, his voice remarkably level with apprehension.

The two paused, both of their minds running far too quickly to work properly.

“Did you read the news?” Italy asked.

Wordlessly, Germany nodded.

Italy paused, scanning Germany’s expressionless face. “Germany-”

“You need to leave.” Germany interrupted, his voice a low grunt. “You’re an enemy. If you stay, I’m going to catch you.”

Italy stared at him, his face unchanging. He wordlessly strode up to Germany. He slowly drew closer until there was only a couple feet between them. “No, you won’t.” 

Germany stared down at Italy. Into his determined brown eyes. It was an expression that he had seen increasingly during the war, but one he had still not grown accustomed to. He felt his heart clench painfully as he turned away, sitting behind his desk. He didn’t know why he felt the need to separate him and Italy.

“Germany, you can do it too.” Italy said, walking over to the desk. “You can leave this. Come with me. We can find Japan and convince him to do it too!”

Germany shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Of course you can!” Italy’s face was marred with an insistent frown. He planted his hands on the surface of Germany’s desk. “You can surrender. It’s hopeless, Germany. Your boss is dead. Your people are dying.”

Germany grit his teeth. “I am aware,” he finally looked up at Italy. “That my people are dying!”

The two countries stared at each other. Italy’s stubborn, sorrowful eyes met Germany’s desperate blue ones.

Italy’s eyes welled with barely-suppressed tears. “Then just run away with me. I know you’re always telling me not to, Germany, but… I think that for once, the brave thing to do is run.”

Germany’s glare fell away. “I can’t. I can’t betray my country like that.”

“Germany, you could die!” A tear escaped Italy’s eye and traced a salty path down his cheek. “Please, I can’t lose you too. I can’t lose Japan. Not after Grandpa Rome and Romano, and…” He removed his hands from the desk, instead using them to wipe away his tears. “I can’t lose you too. You guys are all I have left!”

Germany was at a loss. He knew the risk. But he couldn’t betray his country. He couldn’t surrender until his government decided he could. “You won’t lose me.”

“You can’t promise that.”

Germany nodded. “I know.”

The two looked at each other again. Their minds both whirred with things they could say. Things they wished they could say. Things that they knew were useless to the situation, but so important to the other.

Germany stood from his desk, sighing. “You need to leave. I get a lot of foot traffic in my tent. If someone comes in and sees you… escape out the back of my tent. Escape through the tent city. At all costs, avoid the trenches. There’s a military car dispatching for supplies in an hour. If you make it there, you are guaranteed a safe exit.”

More tears escaped Italy’s eyes as he lurched forward, his arms wrapping around Germany’s waist as he tucked his head under Germany’s chin. “It’s not too late to come with me. You can still get out safely.”

Germany allowed himself the rare luxury of returning the hug, his throat feeling tight as he felt Italy’s hands curl around the back of his uniform. “I know.”

Italy tightened his grip momentarily before he suddenly let go, turning without a word and pushing the flap of the tent open. He dropped it behind him, not looking back as he left Germany behind.

Germany stared at the flap of the tent, wishing more than anything else that he could follow Italy out of that godforsaken camp. That he could follow him into a future like their past. One of naps taken beneath shade trees after a day of hard training. Of Christmases spent together. Of Italy dragging him and Japan out of the tent, insistent on stargazing. He wished that he could follow Italy on whatever crazy adventures he dragged them on next. He was suddenly seized with a choking sensation. He planted a hand on his desk to keep him upright.

His throat burned as he coughed, hacking harder than what felt normal for a customary cold or sickness. His throat was almost completely blocked with something as Germany coughed and coughed. At last, it was unstuck. Whatever it was, it was stuck to his tongue. His nose wrinkling in disgust, he spit it into his hand. Germany frowned. Whatever it was, it was furled and covered in spit. He gently smoothed it out, his face turning stark white. There in his hand was a single, clean lily petal.

Newspapers all over the world were proclaiming the news: Germany had finally surrendered to the allied powers. It waved that white flag, its tail between its legs as the country accepted its defeat. However, the world was not in the clear yet. The nation of Japan had not yet surrendered. Indeed, they continued to fight a predetermined battle against the allied powers as it was slowly backed into a corner. According to the entire world, it was only a matter of time before Japan would have to submit to the good guys and end the war.

Germany sat in the back seat of a car, his brother sitting next to him. Germany stared ahead at the back of America’s chair. Russia was in the passenger’s side, no one in the car attempting to break the thick, hostile atmosphere. Germany glanced out of his periphery. Prussia was sitting with his back ramrod straight, staring ahead evenly. Germany wondered if Prussia was feeling as calm as he looked. He had always been the braver of the two. Germany did not feel brave at all… he hadn’t for a long time. Coughing up that lily petal seemed to turn his world upside down. Thinking logically, he knew it meant that he was… in love with Italy. But, he realized with a pang, it also means that those feelings went unrequited.

Most importantly, though, he knew he was going to die. It was a fact that he had wrestled with almost constantly since he had coughed up that damn petal. But he cycled through the options on a nonstop loop, only to turn them all away for one reason or another. Normally on this car ride he would have been pondering on what would happen next. What punishment would be dished to him in repercussion. But now, with the knowledge that he was a dead man walking, he knew death was futile. He was unafraid of the two men sitting in front of him. What he was afraid of was already inside his body, slowly killing him. So instead of worrying for himself, he spent his energy worrying for others. He worried for Prussia, sitting next to him. He worried for Japan, currently fighting the war for some reason Germany couldn’t decipher. But most of all, he worried about Italy. When he had surrendered, Germany had gotten no word on what happened to him. This was also a thought that permeated his brain and kept him from sleeping at night.

They approached the White House, Germany steeling himself for what happened next. He was prepared for death. But pain? That was another story. They parked in front of the building, America turning with a glare.

“We’re going to get out of the car and get you guys. Don’t try anything funny. Got it?”

Germany nodded. Like he would anyway. He had run-ins with America, of course. From what he had seen, America was a pretty happy-go-lucky guy. It was strange to see him so muted and hostile. He remained silent as America and Russia left their seats, and he remained still as the door to the back of the car opened.

Russia was standing there, waiting as Prussia unbuckled his seatbelt and stood. Immediately, Russia reached out and took hold of his arm, his magic metal pipe of pain aimed at the back of Prussia’s head. The two stepped out of the way as America took Russia’s place.

America pulled his pistol out of his back pocket, pointing it at Germany. “Come quietly and you won’t have to worry about this.”

Wordlessly, Germany scooted over to the door and stood out of the car.

“Both hands behind your back.”

Germany complied, America reaching over and grabbing his wrists with one hand. With the other, he pressed his pistol against Germany’s temple.

At the steps of the white house were protesters, all carrying signs and shouting at Germany. Insults. Terrible, terrible things. Reminders of all the awful things he had done. Germany didn’t mind them. These people were hurt. Besides, this was no worse than the stuff he told himself every single day. The bodyguards kept the people at bay, following them up the stairs and into the white house. They went through the various halls of the building, their footsteps echoing as they ignored the mutters of passerby. Germany and Prussia were steered past two wooden double doors into what looked like a medium sized conference room.

France, England, Russia, and China were muttering to each other in a small group. Standing several feet away and looking rather uncomfortable, Canada listened. Leaning against the wall, watching everyone with a wary scowl, was Romano. As they entered the room, the mutterings stopped. Everyone except Romano turned their eyes upon them as they were escorted to a wooden chair. Germany and Prussia sat down wordlessly.

“Hands behind the back of the chair.” America ordered, not lowering his pistol.

Germany put his hands behind his back, ignoring the wary stares of everyone around them.

England came forward and tied his wrists together.

Germany cast his eyes over to his brother, France tying Prussia’s wrists behind him.

France said nothing, but put a hand on his friends’ shoulder, squeezing lightly.

Prussia’s stony-faced composure fell into an almost imperceptible frown.

America finally lowered his pistol, sticking it into his back pocket as Russia stowed his magic metal pipe of pain in his trench coat. “So. Here you are.”

Germany said nothing, making steely eye contact with him.

“I wish I could say sorry about your boss, but I’m kinda’ glad the bastard finally died.”

Germany agreed, but he still stayed silent.

“Easy, America.” Canada chided as he stepped forward. He looked between the two brothers. “Look, we know you two didn’t want to do what we did. While some of us,” here he glared as America. “Think you should be punished severely, we’ve come to a… compromise of sorts.”

“Of course,” China began. “This compromise can be changed depending on you two.”

Prussia raised a single eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“All we want is information.” France answered. “Prussia, you can make this a lot easier on yourself.”

“So your grace can be bought.” Germany summarized.

England nodded. “Exactly. So we just want you to tell us where Japan is. He still hasn’t given up. His defeat is inevitable, but it would save us a lot of manpower and money if you just tell us.”

“We don’t know anything.” Prussia said. “We have no idea.”

“I don’t think you heard me.” England’s voice was suddenly steely. Almost emotionless. He surged forward, seizing the back of Prussia’s chair and tilting it onto its back legs. He leaned forward. “Where is Japan?!” He roared.

Prussia’s composure never faltered. Perhaps he, like Germany, knew that this was just a bad cop act. “You tilting my chair back doesn’t affect what I know. I still know nothing.”

“Hmm.” England glanced behind him. “Russia.”

Russia paced over to Germany’s chair, withdrawing his metal pipe of pain. His childlike grin never left his face.

Germany knew he shouldn’t be nervous. It was just a scare tactic. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but feel threatened by the man beside him.

“Want to try that again?” England asked.

Prussia raised an eyebrow, looking determinedly unimpressed.

“Fine.”

Russia wordlessly lifted his pipe to Germany’s temple.

Germany’s heart began racing. What if this wasn’t just a scare tactic? What if this was a very real threat? He knew he would come back to life, of course. But whatever Russia was going to do was guaranteed to hurt. And a shattered skull would mean months spent barely conscious, in immense pain. The medicine they had at the time was insufficient for that degree of injury. Of pain. It was a torture he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.

“I don’t know anything.” Prussia spat, unprompted. His composure fell away to barely-suppressed fear.

Russia raised his pipe, ready to swing. “You sure?”

“I don’t know!” Prussia tried, his voice harried with panic. “I swear to God, I don’t know! Do anything you want to me, just don’t hurt him!”

England hummed. “He doesn’t know anything.” He backed away and lowered the front legs of Prussia’s chair back to the ground. “Stand down, Russia.”

Russia had already stowed his pipe away. He stretched out an arm to pat Germany’s head. “I was not going to hurt you. It was just supposed to be intimidating you.”

Germany jerked his head away from the cold touch, his chest heaving with residual adrenaline. His fast breathing caused him to cough. It seemed he was feeling more and more congested as the days passed.

“What the fuck was that?!” Prussia barked, his composure gone.

“We were not going to hurt him.” China explained. “It was just to get information.”

Leaning against the wall still, Romano scoffed. Germany was unsure if this was out of doubt or relief.

“And our punishments are still severe, I assume?” Prussia leaned back in his chair, glaring up at the allies.

Canada shook his head. “They’re not… that bad. All members of the Axis powers will pay steep fines for the damage you caused, of course. Germany, you’ll bounce between America, England, and France’s house for the next decade. You’ll spend a year at a house before you move to the next. It’s just for surveillance. You understand. You have a packing limit of one suitcase and you cannot bring your dogs. There will be no leaving the house except for business. No visits from friends.”

Germany nodded. That was more than fair. A decade was a long time, but he would survive. It was just house arrest. “Who will take care of my dogs?”

“I will.” Canada answered. “They’ll do well with Kumajiro, I think.”

“As for Prussia,” America broke in, his glare steely. “His land will be given to Russia and Poland. Since most of it is going to Russia, you’ll stay at his house for the next decade.”

Prussia’s face went slack. “Y- you can’t do that.”

“Why not? You broke the world into pieces. It’s just justice.” America responded. His voice was level and cold.

Canada glared at his brother. “Hey, easy there.”

Germany could feel his face draining of blood. Prussia was already weak. A blow this large would perhaps have massive, even irreversible consequences. “He could die!” He coughed after saying this.

China shook his head, though he looked uncomfortable. “That is not true. After many years of being divided and put together again, as long as you interact frequently with your people, you will survive for many years. It will hurt, but you will survive.”

Prussia looked dazed, but he nodded.

Germany looked over to his brother. He had gotten the short end of the stick. Sure, he would be okay. But the fact of the matter is that getting land taken away from you even the slightest bit felt like torture. He couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to have all of your land broken at and divided.

“Don’t feel bad.” Russia consoled, smiling comfortingly. “Compared to the punishment Italy got, this is small pain.”

“What?” Germany looked up. “What did you do to him? Where is he?!”

France looked pained. “We put a cap on his military power. He can only have a limited number of soldiers and weaponry. Forever.”

Germany glanced disbelievingly at Romano. Italy was already so weak. With this cap, he could be taken down easily. And with all that he had done with his fellow axis, there would likely be other nations seeking revenge. Italy’s death was damn near inevitable. “Even after South Italy went to your side?!”

“Hey, Romano saved Italy’s ass.” America barked. “If it weren’t for him, he would be off way worse.”

“You can’t do this! He can’t defend himself! He-” Germany’s sentence was cut off as his air passageway was partially blocked. He coughed harshly, the hacking noises drowning out the conversation that had started around him. Questions of if Germany’s country was already suffering harshly because of his punishment, if they should call a doctor, or if anyone knew the Heimlich. He knew why he was coughing so badly. He just didn’t know why it had to be now, in front of everyone. One last, giant cough. He knew what had landed in his lap, but he just kept his eyes trained on the floor. Laying in his lap were three, pristine white petals.

A piercing silence, louder even than Germany’s coughing, permeated the room. Seeped into everyone’s very bones.

“Oh, Germany…” France gasped, holding his hands up to his mouth.

Romano pushed through. His glare loosened. “Lily petals. That’s my national flower.” He looked up to Germany. “My brother…?”

Germany turned his head away, ashamed.

“Holy shit.” Romano turned around, his palm coming up to his forehead as he gave way to the other nations.

“Germany?”

Germany was unable to stand the sound of Prussia’s voice. It was so fragile. Far too quiet. He pretended he hadn’t heard it.

“My God.” England stared at Germany. “You’re in love with Italy.”

Canada pushed through the crowd. “Hey.” He bent over and pulled the petals off of Germany’s lap. He lay a comforting hand on Germany’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter who it’s for. That’s none of our business. The only thing that matters is where we go from here and what will happen next. The fact of the matter is…” Canada looked down, his voice heavy with pity. “Germany is going to die.”

Germany willed himself not to flinch. He had told himself this more times than he could count. But somehow, hearing it out loud made it seem like an unavoidable fact.

“No he’s not.” Prussia’s voice was hard with determination. “Because we’re going to get him the surgery. Obviously.”

“Like hell we are.” Romano protested, glaring down at Prussia. “That would break my brother.”

“Well what would break him more? Your brother’s feelings, or my brother losing his fucking life?” Prussia snapped.

“Hey, easy.” Canada came up behind the two, holding them arm’s distance apart. “We can come up with a solution to make everyone happy.”

“Has a nation ever died of hanahaki disease?” France asked.

“Not in my memory.” China answered. He looked unsure.

“Well I feel like he would come back to life, right?” In the face of a new problem, America’s aggression seemed to have gone down. “He is a nation, after all. He would need to come back to represent the people of Germany.”

“But let us not forget,” Russia reminded amiably. “Prussia would come to represent the country in the event Germany died… right?”

“Well maybe.” America shrugged.

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.” England protested.

“Isn’t it?” Romano grunted. “After Grandpa Rome died, Italy and I got a lot of his land.”

“Well this conversation doesn’t matter, regardless.” Prussia declared. “Because Germany will get the surgery.”

“No.” Germany said. He felt everyone’s eyes on him. He finally looked up. “Let’s review the facts. I am a nation. Nations have died many times in battle. Whether it was from a sword, a bullet, or a bomb, they came back. Surely suffocation is no different. Second, relationships between the nations are already tense as it is. If I did get the surgery and have all my memories of Italy taken away, it would only make things more difficult. Third, even for normal procedures surgeries are risky. Very few hanahaki patients live through the procedure. Though I could survive many other blows, hanahaki surgery on a nation has never been done before. We have no information on it. It is not a risk I am willing to take.” He stated this matter-of-factly. Like his life wasn’t on the line. He needed to distance himself logically. Not allow emotions to impact how he thought of this issue. Besides, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t already decided this before entering the room.

“Germany,” Prussia began, his voice quiet. “You realize what you’re deciding here, right? The pain… it’ll be unbearable.”

“I don’t see much of a choice, do you?” Germany asked levelly. “Besides. Maybe after I die the first time it will be gone.”

“If we tell Italy that you have hanahaki, then Italy will want to do everything he can to stop it. That includes falling in love with you.” Prussia decided. “There’s your choice.”

“It is not that easy, Prussia.” France sadly shook his head. “Love can never be chosen. It can’t be manufactured. For it to be real love, it has to be true, unselfish affection. The willingness to do anything for them. Only then is it complete, genuine love.”

“But he would put in effort after knowing.” Russia pointed out. “It would end the suffering faster. Yes?”

America nodded in agreement. “Yeah. And if they clear the air between each other, everything will just be easier. Everything having to do with the hanahaki among other things. Like damage control and everything that comes after this.”

China nodded. “That is true. Plus, there are a couple of experimental medicines and procedures we have back at my-“

“-No.” Germany interrupted.

“Those reasons do make sense, I suppose.” England said. “Then let’s just tell him.”

“No.” Germany protested.

“It is as I said.” France interrupted. “If little Italy knows that Germany is in love with him and that he has hanahaki, that puts too much pressure on him to truly fall in love. He could try, but it really wouldn’t do anything.”

Romano nodded, leaning against the wall. “My idiot brother is too emotional for his own good. He would cry for days. And knowing him, he would try to fall in love with Germany. It wouldn’t work under all that pressure.” He jerked his head to Germany. “In the end, it’s his decision. They’re his damned feelings. You all would do well to remember that. His freedom is already being taken away. You bastards can’t take his emotional freedom away from him too. It’s fucking inhumane.”  

Germany looked up at Romano. Of all the people in this room, he would expect Romano to be the last one to come to his defense.

Romano did not catch Germany’s eye, sending a level glare to the allies. “That’s all I have to say about it.”

Canada nodded. “Alright.” He turned to Germany. “It’s all up to you. You don’t have to come to a decision in front of us.”

“Now that you know your punishments, this meeting is adjourned-” America began.

“Wait.” Germany interrupted. “Please. Where is Italy? Where are you keeping him?”

Romano regarded Germany with a strange expression. “He is staying at my house until further notice. We cannot trust him on his own.”

Germany nodded.

“Right.” England said, trying to replace the tense atmosphere with productivity. “Prussia, you will go with Russia. Germany, you’ll start out with France. Separation from your brother is part of your punishment.”

Germany’s heart dropped in his chest. He had already heard the terms of their punishment, but it was still another tough blow. He blew out a sigh. Who knew what would happen in that decade? Germany was almost certain that he would die. He could potentially come to life, though. But what about Prussia? Would he die? Would Germany be left alone to take on this world alone? Would he learn of this death through a letter while staying at a house that wasn’t even his own? Against his fears, he nodded.

“Meeting adjourned.”

“France.” Prussia said as France untied his wrists. “Can I have some time alone with my brother, please? Even for a minute. I just have to say goodbye.”

“Absolutely not.” England denied. “We’re running on a tight schedule. Besides, your punishment has officially started. This would violate the terms.”

France untied Prussia, rounding the chair to grab onto England’s arm. “Anglettere, please. Prussia is losing his brother. Surely you understand.”

England looked over at America, who didn’t notice as he argued with Canada about something under his breath. England sighed heavily. “You have two minutes. Don’t waste them.”

Germany jerked his fists in front of him after Russia untied him. “Thank you, Britain.”

England set his watch as the allies filed out of the room. “Your two minutes start now. Security is outside the door if you try to escape.” With a final glance, he turned and shut the door behind him.

Before Germany could tear his gaze away from the door, Prussia came over and grabbed his shoulders. “Ludwig, why didn’t you tell me you had hanahaki?”

“It didn’t matter.” Germany muttered, avoiding his brother’s piercing gaze.

“It matters to me. You’re my brother.”

Germany finally looked up. “Well what could we have done anyway? We just had an entire conversation about our limited options. Besides, you have bigger concerns. You’re staying with Russia for a decade.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Prussia’s already pallid face turned paler as he said this. “It’s only a decade with Russia. I’ve fared worse.”

“Don’t be an idiot. Just do what he says and swallow your damned pride.” Germany ordered.

Prussia shook his head. “You know me, West. I don’t follow directions very well.”

“Quit screwing around!” Germany snapped. “I’m being completely serious. Russia’s a maniac.”

“You’re giving him too much credit.” Prussia responded coolly. “He’s no psychopath. He just doesn’t get people.”

Germany’s brow furrowed. “Just… be careful. Don’t test him.”

“I won’t.” Prussia said. “And you… God, what do I even say?”

“Don’t get hanahaki?” Germany asked.

“Don’t even joke about that.” Prussia snapped. “Just be careful.”

Germany had no idea of what he could possibly be careful of. He didn’t know if Prussia knew either. “I will.”

Prussia pulled Germany into his chest in a hug, grasping the back of his uniform in clenched fists. Germany returned it, knowing he had to treasure these last moments before they were ripped away from each other.

Hearing the door open, Germany reluctantly pulled away from his brother.

“Your time is up.” England said, standing in the doorway. His expression was carefully guarded. Determinedly expressionless.

Prussia nodded, taking a deep breath and leading the way to the future.

****

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[theinfamousdoctorf]

So I’m finally back...

 Those few who know me personally will be aware that me and @theoverworldqueen have purchased a small rural house together. <3 It’s taken the better part of a year to make it happen and several months apart while I negotiated a transfer with my job and she logged work history in the place we were moving too for the mortgage requirements. [So we were apart for several more months then we‘d planned on. ;_: ]

 It took me almost two months to pack our household by myself, and several days to actually load the truck. The ‘friends’ who had promised to help us move faded away when they were actually needed, and I had to utilize some local kids who received cash and some friendly neighbors who were paid in furniture [that didn’t fit in the truck] and booze.

  When the day came to actually leave, I still had no volunteers to drive the truck because none of my friends could get time off work. [I had to drive my car with our eight cats inside.] The only people available to help were my parents.

The exact people I was moving to get the fuck away from.

 My mother refused to do any driving because the big truck was ‘too scary’. My pathetic excuse for a father, [from here on called jackass], would be doing all of the driving. Despite the fact that he’d just had several toes removed for diabetic reasons. My mother planned the route, later I realized she not only planned it with a paper atlas rather then choosing the fastest route via Google, [because she didn’t know how to use the app and wouldn’t ask for help] but also planned a very circuitous route in a vain attempt to avoid driving through any mountains. [Because they are also just too scary.]  So we start driving. A 26 foot Budget rental truck with a small horse trailer on it, and my car with me and the cats. Before we even got out of Texas, the horse trailer hit a bump and lost a wheel. It was then dragged about a mile while throwing an ocean of sparks where the metal edge was grinding against the asphalt. This was because it happened on a narrow highway with no breakdown lane. I barely managed to avoid getting hit with the wheel that flew off as well. We sat in a parking lot all night waiting for a tow driver who basically told us the king nut flew off and it was totaled. I had a partial mental breakdown and had to abandon most of the things I’d packed into the trailer. The truck was already stuffed up to the door and what little I saved was jammed in my car and thrown on top of everything else in the truck.   The cats were riding in a pair of pop-up zippered tents and were pretty mad by this point. My car stank of piss and fear pheromones.

 And then we drove, and drove and drove. Keep in mind that my destination was Washington state and I was coming from Galveston TX. It should have been a 2 and a half day drive with a stop to sleep each night. Around the third day I demanded to see the map and realized she had sent us across the widest part of Texas and New Mexico before turning north. There was a lot of arguing. Especially because I realized jackass was a terrible driver. So I had no choice but to watch helplessly as this colossal asshole drove a truck rented in my name, with nearly all my worldly goods inside, over every fucking curb, bumping it up and down and weaving all over the road. He hit a call box outside a Jack in the Box, he scraped a parked truck, he hit signs at more then one gas station and skirted far too close to the pumps with the back end of the truck. I went beyond the reasonable limits of human stress.

 The cats destroyed the zippers on the carriers and I was forced to just let them roam the car. First panting in the heat and then huddled freezing as we got further north. [I had them all in little safety vests and that kept them mostly calm, pro tip.]  On the fourth night jackass drove into a truck stop and then behind it. Up an unlit dirt road that said ‘dangerous blasting area authorized access only’. He then turned around several times and went back down to the truck stop where I blocked him with my car. He and my mother were having a screaming match because he wouldn’t explain what he was doing or why and wouldn’t stop doing donuts in the restricted area when she told him too.  I lost my shit. I screamed in his face and when he didn’t respond, I grabbed his horrible scraggy beard and then his throat and repeated myself. I took the keys and went to try and get some sleep in my car. [With so many animals in tow I couldn’t get a hotel room and really couldn’t leave the car unattended at all. So I hadn’t been able to properly shower in days. Plus I’d forgotten to bring a spare pair of shoes and my sandaled feet were red and freezing.]  The bastard has always tried to make my mother choose between me and him. He’s a psychotic manic depressive on a whole rainbow of medications. He’s a misogynist who really wanted a son, plus a racist and generally stingy and awful person. A running argument revolved around his insistence on cutting my lawn three times a week with the mower blade on the lowest setting so he was just killing anything green and kicking up dust. [My mother is pure enabler, always apologizing for his terrible behavior and gaslighting me like I’m over reacting.] He’s literally alienated so many people where I was living that I’ve lost out on jobs because he insists that I’m the terrible one and trash-talks me to everyone he meets.  So we finally get back on the road.

 In Wyoming I tried to get some sleep at a rest stop and someone hit my car and busted out a tail light. Several times we almost run out of gas because her planned route avoided any cities in case there was traffic. At this point I have a massive rash under my bra and just take it off.

 On the fifth night we arrive in a gas station in Idaho. I go to pee and come back outside to find jackass laying on the ground with three people hovering over him. I inform my mother that he fell and go back to my car. So emotionally dead at this point I don’t feel anything. 

 I am informed that jackass has broken his hip.

 I’ve spent most of my life praying for him to die, so that part doesn’t touch me. The part that ripped my heart out was that my mother told me that I’m now ‘on my own’. She is going to the hospital with him. She left me in a freezing parking lot with eight cats in a car and a giant moving truck with all my things in it.  Terrified and heartbroken I call my girlfriend Lie. She is eight hours away and leaving now to come rescue me. She’s bringing our friend Ashley as well. So I huddle in the car with the cats and try to sleep. After several hours I get a text from my mother telling me to bring her luggage and such to the hospital. At this point I’m furious. I tell her I will not do that. She says I will. I stop responding.  In the morning my rescuers arrive and we begin the long final limp over the mountains.  I get several more messages threatening me, trying to shame me for just ‘moving on without them’ and ‘not caring if your father dies’.  I was instructed to deal with my own problems like an adult. So that’s what I did. At that point the rental truck needed to be returned and I hadn’t even arrived yet. My job was waiting on me to show up the next day for orientation, and she’d basically wasted all the time I’d budgeted for unloading the truck. There was no way in hell I was going anywhere to give either of them anything.

 But we did finally get here. The Budget guy sent me his ex-wife who happily took some cash in exchange for unloading the truck with me, and we finally got rid of the thing. Unfortunately my car overheated from all the punishment it took and it’s currently non-functional. My job gave me a little extension so I’m using the time to get our household set up again.  My Etsy shop [https://www.etsy.com/shop/PatchworkLaboratory ] is still on vacation for the moment because the previous tenant didn’t like mail and just didn’t have a mailbox, but it should be up and running again soon. My other site is still good though if you’d like some funky cloth and want to throw a few dollars towards me fixing my car. [ https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/infamousdoctorf] I’ve got a paypal attached to nightshade518@yahoo.com as well. It’s going to be hard financially to keep all the bills paid, but I just couldn’t stand being near my abusive family anymore.

In conclusion. Take your giant cockroaches, fire ants, heat waves, and hurricanes; and go fuck yourself Galveston. Have fun with my awful relatives.

WA is home.