#thought of this after I tragically stepped on a snail

[iite-cool]

simon feels so bad when he accidentally steps on a snail that he goes non verbal and will silently wallow in guilt over ending an undeserving life send tweet

[astr0disiac]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2: ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏɴᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀ

☆ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ:

Tiana feels as though she deserves the suffering she's endured over the past five years after the tragic loss of her husband, Naveen. But Nanami wants to prove that she is capable of giving and receiving love again.

But even the sweetest of kisses can't heal the sourest of wounds.

An office-work romance like no other, filled with love, loss, and betrayal from those Tiana thought she could trust the most.

☆ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 9,629

☆ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: implied/referenced suicide [mild], implied/referenced self-harm [mild], implied/referenced miscarriage, angst, slow burn

☆ᴍʏ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴇꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴘᴇʟʟɪɴɢꜱ ᴏʀ ɢʀᴀᴍᴍᴀᴛɪᴄᴀʟ ᴇʀʀᴏʀꜱ☆

Nanami finally gets to an area where the crowd has thinned, just as he watches the elevator doors slide shut with Tiana inside. He briskly walks up to the doors, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. The last thing he needed was people asking questions, or stalling him any longer.

When he reached the elevator, he looked at the top of the doors that had a thin panel that indicated what floor it stopped on. The numbers kept climbing up, and up until the letter “R” was lit up in a bright yellow light, indicating she made it to the roof. Nanami quickly presses the up button repetitively as if it would speed up the descent of the elevator. He huffed as he seemed to wait for an eternity for the doors to slide open, and he hoped inside. He quickly clicks the button to close the silver doors, then clicks the button that will take him to Tiana. The elevator creeps up at a snail's pace, and gives Nanami time to battle his abnormal sense of impatience.

What will I do once I get up there, Nanami asked himself. In the moment, he couldn’t help but rush to her aid as quickly as possible, but now that he was physically on his way, he wasn’t sure how he would comfort her properly. He didn’t know the details of her mourning, he wasn’t even supposed to know that she was in mourning to begin with. He gulped, adjusting his glasses as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. He wipes the corner of his mouth, chewing on his bottom lip as a sensation of nerves washed over him.

He didn’t know how he would tackle this, but he did know that he couldn’t let her go up there alone. This wasn’t even about what Lottie wanted him to do, but what his heart urged him to do. The right thing to do.

The doors slide open and a whipping breeze hits Nanami so hard, it blows his jacket around his body. He shoves his hands into his pockets to keep the fabric in place as he steps out of the metallic room, the doors sliding closed behind him. It was bound to be cold up here, they were hundreds of feet above the ground on the last night of October. If it weren’t for the dire situation that had ensued, he would have loved sitting up here admiring the skyline by himself, or with newfound company; the way the stars seemed to reflect off the glass panes of the surrounding buildings, and the lonely half moon that never seemed to be whole these days. He walked around the cemented roof; a place where people often came to smoke or have lunch, or even to run away from their work. Multiple benches were stationed about, and a few shrubs and plants strewn about for a bit of greenery. Nanami paced about, looking for a flash of brown or the heap of tight coils, any detail that led him to Tiana. As he turned the corner of the tiny enclosed space that hid the stairwell behind some sturdy doors, he saw her. Well, more so her back.

She was crouched down, hands squeezing the metallic bars that enclosed the roof for safety reasons, tremors rolling through her body. Over the sound of wind whistling in Nanami’s ears, he could hear her shortened breath mixed with sniffles and a few restrained gags. Nanami wasn’t sure if she was crying, hyperventilating, or trying not to vomit; maybe a mixture of all three. Nanami took a step forward, his shoe scuffling against the ground, and causing Tiana to scramble up at the grating noise, turning around abruptly. It was so fast that Nanami himself jumped. As Nanami gazed upon her face, he couldn’t help but feel his own heart squeeze. Her arms hugged herself, guarded as tears poured endlessly from those big brown eyes, making them look much larger as the light of the moon was caught in her irises. Her ankles wobbled slightly, as her body curled over.

��Mr. Nanami, I’m…” She shook, lips trembling as the wind dried the streaks on her face. She used her hands to wipe her mouth.  “My apologies, I just need a moment.”

You need more than a moment, Nanami thought, his eyebrows furrowed with worry. “Are you alright?” He asked, and immediately tried to correct himself; the question was so cliche and insensitive. Of course she wasn’t alright. “No, I mean-”

“I’m fine. I just…need a moment.” Tiana repeated, her voice bending with the breeze. Nanami pursed his lips, tilting his head.

“Ms. Tiana, I’m not trying to pry…”

“But you are.” Tiana rebuttaled, using the sleeve of her dress to wipe her face as she glared at him with dissatisfaction. Tiana didn’t have a good enough excuse to explain why she ran off the way that she did, and based on the silver haired man’s choice of words, she had an inkling that Nanami knew more about her than he let on, despite missing the more gruesome details of her past. Either way, it wasn’t any of his business, and regurgitating those memories was not on her list of things to do tonight, or ever for that matter.

“Mr. Nanami, I…appreciate your worry.” Tiana lied, forcing the words to come out of her trembling mouth. “But I don’t appreciate you fussing over me like a child. I don’t know what you know, and I don’t want to. I just want to get through this job and be treated like everyone else.” 

Nanami’s mouth twisted at her words. Everyone else, he pondered. He couldn’t in good conscience leave her alone up here, but it was obvious she wanted to be left by her lonesome. It wasn’t just the fact that Lottie would berate him, or that it would make him seem like an insensitive boss.

It would make him look like a heartless man, and Nanami wouldn’t be able to go on with his night knowing that Tiana was suffering by herself; he wouldn’t be able to stand it. It was supposed to be a festive night, and even though he couldn’t control what Gojo would do, he could control his own actions. He could control right now, maybe decompress the stress lines that seemed to find their way back to her forehead after a fleeting vacation.

“I’m not hovering over you, that’s not very dignifying for either party.” Nanami said, shrugging and looking up at the sky. He did so to avoid Tiana’s look of disbelief.

“Then why are you still here?”

Nanami continued to stare at the darkened sky; this was the only way to appease Tiana without poking the sleeping lioness that was her stubbornness and pride, though it meant Nanami had to awaken his own sense of dignity.

“The moon.” Nanami spoke into the crisp night. “I find myself fascinated with it on nights like this.”

Tiana frowned. Why was he trying so hard to keep her company?

“Really?” She voiced her disdain.

“Really.” Nanami nodded. “Even with a sky full of stars, there are some nights where it’s still never whole.”

Even though Nanami was talking about the moon, Tiana knew he wasn’t really referring to the celestial body. She felt her eyes water again as she hugged herself, her body feeling cold and empty inside and out.

“So why?” Tiana chokes out. “Why do the stars continue to try?” Tiana looked wistfully at the sky, her hair whipping through the wind. She was sure it was a nest resting on her head, giving Nanami a wider peak into her vulnerability, but she couldn’t help but ask. Why did he continue to try to console her knowing her loneliness had seeped so deep into her skin it had become part of her marrow? It had coagulated into her DNA, congealed itself to her heart, to the point where nothing could penetrate the hardened tissue.

“Why do the stars keep coming out, every single night, knowing it won’t ease the moon's loneliness?”

“A single star can only do so much.” Nanami says. “It tries its best to help provide light to places the moon can’t reach. But if you bring a star closer…” Nanami blinked as the words seemed to fall from his mouth so effortlessly. “It becomes the sun.”

Tiana choked, covering her mouth with her hand as she keeled over. The last time she let a star get close, she watched it dissipate into a watery grave. The last time she let a star get close, it grew cold leaving her world dark and barren, and with no light to reflect, it dimmed her own shine. She couldn’t bear doing it all over again. She refused. The only semblance of the sun that she had left was Lottie, but she was so distant now that she had become a lone star in Tiana’s midnight sky. 

Tiana wiped her face profusely, angry with herself, angry with Lottie, angry with Nanami, and angry with Naveen. She was mad at the world, the sky, the bodies that occupied it. She was furious, but at the same time felt so insignificant. She wanted to be better, but the road to get there was treacherous. She wanted to smile, genuinely smile, but it’s like her muscles forgot the sensation. She wanted her heart, that damned muscle aching in her chest, to stop squeezing so tightly whenever she thought of Naveen, what she had done to Naveen. She wanted the air that she inhaled to not taste so stale on her palette.

Maybe, just maybe, the apparition of a new star in her sky would make her nights a little less lonely.

Suddenly, Tiana felt something thrown over her shoulders. She looked to see that Nanami had thrown his khaki jacket over her body, leaving him in nothing but a thin blue button up. Tiana’s eyebrows furrowed as she attempted to paw the jacket off.

“Mr. Nanami, I can’t take this.”

“Why not?” Nanami raised a brow. “It must be freezing.”

It was very cold, though Tiana didn’t want to admit that fact. She also didn’t want to admit the amount of comfort the small gesture provided her.

“You’re fussing again.”

“Tell you what, how about you just hold it for me. It is a bit stifling.”

“You just said it was cold out.”

“I assumed it was.”

“So can I make the assumption that you’re coddling me again?”

“Perhaps your assumptions are wrong and I’m simply being a gentleman.”

Tiana scoffed, wisps of warm breath wafting from her mouth. Her eyes were a bit red, and slightly swollen; not to mention the warm color that dusted the tip of her nose and cheeks, either from embarrassment or the chill.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mr. Nanami.”

Nanami let out a breathy laugh, because this would in fact help him sleep tonight; his consciousness felt a bit more clear now. But only a bit, because there was something else that seemed to irk him as he glanced back at the woman for only a moment.

Just as the two began to settle in their new found silence, they heard the wail of sirens in the distance, the sound amplifying as what was assumed to be an ambulance grew closer. Confused, Nanami and Tiana both walked to the safety rail, peeking over to see what was going on. They watched as the emergency vehicle flew down the street, screeching to a halt once it reached the base of the building. The two watch as paramedics spill out like clowns emerging from a cartoonishly small car, and then they look at each other. Without another word, the two hurry to the elevator, Nanami clicking the down button as he watches the numbers on top of the silver door climb to the floor which holds the party.

“Oh no.” Nanami muttered as his legs bounced, waiting for the elevator. No doubt it was being occupied by whatever chaos was ensuing downstairs.

“Mr. Nanami?” Tiana muttered, clutching the jacket to her being. Nanami simply shook his head, before grabbing Tiana’s arm and gently pulling her to the double doors that led to the staircase. Tiana couldn’t help but squeak in surprise as the man tugged her along; it wasn’t a bruising grip, it was gentle, yet firm as if providing an act of support rather than dragging her around.

“My apologies, but there is no time.” Nanami said, pulling the metallic doors open, and immediately rushing down the stairs, Tiana in tow.

Now, Tiana knew how to maneuver in heels, but sprinting in them down the stairs wasn’t necessarily in her field of expertise. As Nanami’s shoes thundered down the stairs, Tiana’s echoing footsteps seemed to be an afterthought, clicking down the wide staircase with an uncharted rhythm. Nanami’s hold on her forearm soon slid down to her wrist to properly accommodate for the difference in levels.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Tiana’s voice echoed in the stairwell. “S-slow down!” She tried to get Nanami’s attention, but he was a man on a mission, not even providing a reply. The two kept descending, both of them breathing quite heavily as Nanami came to a sudden halt, Tiana hitting herself on his back gently. He then rushed through another set of doors, and a warm yellow light flooded the dark staircase, and then walked into complete disarray.

Some people were yelling, others trying to rush out of the room, a few EMTs seemed to be talking to a few people, and in the center of it all stood Misha; the chaos revolving around her like satellites around the Earth. Nanami continued to pull Tiana with him, not wanting her to get lost in the confusion, as Misha stood there talking with an EMT.

“-didn’t know there was seafood in the damn dish. Seafood wasn’t even supposed to be brought in the building tonight.” Nanami caught the end of her sentence as he got closer to the short woman.

“What’s going on here?” Nanami said, Tiana standing by his side. Misha turned to look at him, relief flooding her face.

“Finally, someone of authority.” Misha said in a dramatic tone to Nanami, Tiana not quite understanding. “I couldn’t find Gojo, or Shoko-”

“What’s going on?” Nanami asked again, wishing Misha would get straight to the point. Misha looked taken aback, then glanced at Tiana, taking notice of her stature and how close she stood to Nanami; Nanami stood in a way that seemed to shield her. Not to mention the tan jacket that adorned her shoulder, or the fact that Nanami was practically holding her hand under the fabric. Misha frowned.

“One of the interns had a major allergic reaction.” Misha said. “Someone brought in seafood, which was explicitly stated not to be brought.” Misha folded her arms matter-of-factly, gazing directly at Tiana.

“Which dish was it?” Nanami said, looking back at the table. That’s when Misha said it, at the top of her lungs, and clear enough for Tiana and everyone in the area to understand.

“The one Tiana brought.”

There were a few murmurs, and as Tiana looked around, a few dirty glances were thrown her way as if she had murdered someone (well, she could have). Nanami looked from Tiana to Misha, to the glowering crowd, then to Misha again.

“What are you talking about? Ms. Tiana brought pastries? The ben yay’s.” Nanami said with a brow raised.

Misha scoffed. “What you don’t know is that she brought two, the other some sort of soup. Kind of an overachiever don’t you think?”

Tiana looked at Nanami, who looked back at her confused. Lips stammering, she shook her head quickly, eyes widening like a doe caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle.

“N-no, that’s not…” Her voice got caught in her throat as she looked around, the overwhelming feeling of being swarmed overtaking her again. She watched as one by one, the crowd turned against her, faces shrouded with murky expressions.  “Mr. Nanami, that’s not what happened-”

“It’s bad enough that you’ve been slacking on the job, celebrating with the rest of us as if you’ve earned the break.” Misha snided. “Now you’re putting your coworkers in danger? Well, Nanami ‘ought to have you-”

“Didn’t you say that was your dish, Misha?” Nanami griped. Misha halted mid-sentence, the coy smile on her lips immediately fading to shock. Now it was her turn to trip over her words.

“What?”

“Earlier you mentioned making a soup dish. You offered some to me and I declined.” He takes a step towards Misha, who begins to shrink backwards. She quakes with each step.

“No, well actually-”

“No, you didn’t bring the dish? Or you were the actual perpetrator?”

Misha seems to well up, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Her shoulders rise as she balls her fist, waving at Tiana as she tries to turn the tables once more.

“Tiana made it!” Misha said defensively. “Regardless, she still added seafood to the dish, which I explicitly stated not to! She can be so scatterbr-”

“Regardless, you tried to pass the dish as your own.” Nanami gritted, towering over the poor woman as she trembled like a leaf in autumn. “Then you tried to pin this chaos on her, when you’re her admin. Instead of shaming her, why don’t you perform your job properly and provide aid. As her superior, this is your responsibility, yes?”

Misha’s face reddened as her mouth tried to formulate a coherent sentence, some sort of out for herself. As she looked around, she could see the troop she had attempted to rally slowly turn against her, mumbling about her incompetence, or agreeing with Nanami. Nanami knew what he was doing. In times like this, status mattered, and as much as he hated using his title to sway the opinion of others, he would do so in the name of justice.

He would do so if it meant clearing Tiana’s name. No one would dare disagree with his observation, and would follow what he said whether it were fact or fiction, or whether they truly believed his word or not.

“And, if I remember correctly…” Nanami added, his face grim as the veins in his temple pulsed. Misha continued to shrink, her attitude as potent as a withered seed. “You called Ms. Tiana personally after hours to request a favor for the party. Is this non-traditional soup the result of said favor? Is it even a soup to begin with?”

“Mr. Nanami.” Tiana’s voice rang clear through his mind, similar to the bells that chime on the hour, as refreshing as a morsel of water found in the sandiest dunes. “That’s quite enough.” She said firmly, and Nanami felt a tug at the sleeve of his shirt. He looked down to see her hand gripping the fabric that enclosed his balled fist, and briefly glanced behind himself to see her standing behind him, face grim.

“How did you hear…?” Misha started, but didn’t finish the sentence, and Nanami was glad she lost the nerve midway. He knew what she wanted to ask; how was he privy to their call? That would hint that Nanami was in Tiana’s company after hours, and the gossip would bring them right back to square one, and nothing can save an employee from the exaggerated whispers in an office. But at least for now, the heat was off Tiana. That’s all that mattered.

Nanami looked around, a hush falling upon the crowd as people awaited their next instruction. Nanami removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighed in agitation.

“Pack it up. Everyone go home.”

Like roaches caught congregating in the dark, everyone scattered; grabbing their dishes or extra food before the shutdown was complete, or tripping over themselves to get to the exit. Tiana watched in slight awe, but at the same time knew what was going on. When the boss said move now, you move yesterday. It panged her slightly as it reminded her of a bustling kitchen during rush hour.

Misha stood there with a deep frown, watching Tiana watch Nanami, and Nanami’s eyes glaring into her soul. His voice was frosted over as he spoke with much disdain, and disappointment.

“Go on to the hospital. I will meet you there to make sure they are all right, but this?” Nanami motions to the event that had rushed to clear out. “This is your responsibility to clear up, and you better make it right. This is not how we operate, is that clear?”

“Yes, Nanami.” Misha cowered.

“Don’t be so friendly with me, either.” Nanami said, stalking away. Tiana followed behind quietly, still clutching the jacket to her shoulders as relief flooded over her, or something similar to it? Whatever it was, she couldn’t help but look back at Misha, suddenly feeling merry as if Christmas came over as she saw her mortified face. Eyes blown, chest rising and falling rapidly, the squeezing and unfurling of her appendages.

Tiana's twinkling teeth began to peak out from her round lips.

“Ms. Tiana.” Nanami called, snapping the woman’s neck to look at him. Her eyebrows were raised at the sound of her name, lips in a thin line but cheeks slightly raised. Nanami caught wind of the exchange; watching the subtle interaction with a puzzling aura. He then nods his head in the opposite direction in a beckoning motion, and Tiana simply nods, following behind him like an imprinted duckling. As Nanami walked, he couldn’t help but ponder Tiana’s actions.

Did she do that on purpose?

Nanami asked himself, and wanted to ask the woman, but instead chose a more tactful question.

“Are you alright?”

Tiana looked up, eyes slightly droopy, her eyebrows knitted together like a cozy blanket. They stood in a secluded corner, away from prying eyes and ears, flickering fluorescent light being their only witness as the sounds of the party faded into nothingness.

“I’ll be alright. I wasn’t prepared for this much exertion.”

“You should go home. Get some rest. You had a long night.” Nanami said, his voice sturdy. 

“Let me come with you.” Tiana interjected. “I should shoulder some blame, it’s not all Ms. Misha’s fault.”

Nanami had a feeling, based on Tiana’s expression, that after the adrenaline and anxiety faded she would begin to feel the weight of her guilt, but Nanami shook his head, refusing her request.

“I will take care of it. Just…” Nanami tried to find the right words to ease the tension between those brows that had her entire vessel wound up so tight. “Next time, let me know if you need help. You don’t have to handle these things on your own. You could have just told me that day, when I asked.”

Tiana felt herself shrink. Not because he was reprimanding her, it was in fact the opposite. His voice was so calm, so understanding, so gentle as he spoke to her that it made her feel bad for going to these lengths in the first place; ruining the festivities just to possibly get back at someone, when in reality if Nanami wasn’t there, it would have gone to hell. 

“I know, I know.” Tiana caved, a small part of her cracking open. “I know, and I want to properly apologize. I’m sorry.” Tiana huffed, her pride bruised slightly. Though she didn’t want to admit it, Nanami had saved her twice tonight, and she knew she was indebted to him, though she hated the idea of owing people.

“Don’t be sorry. Be careful.” Nanami said, pulling out his phone, he began typing a message to multiple numbers. “I’m going to get in contact with one of the office chauffeurs at the party, though I would rather take you home, I have other matters to attend to.”

“I would much rather walk, Mr. Nanami.” Tiana was quick to say, but Nanami refuted her statement, and though he wanted to press about her dislike for vehicles, he knew now wasn’t the time and that it may be too taxing to discuss it right now.

“I let you walk the last time, and I couldn’t bear it.” He said, and Tiana raised a brow. “It is far too late, and we wouldn’t want any lingering adversaries following you home.”

“Now, Mr. Nanami-”

“You said earlier, ‘whatever helps you sleep at night’, am I correct?”

“Well, I did say that earlier…”

“This would help me get a good night’s rest.” Nanami reassured her, head tilted as his voice came out in a plea. “Please, Ms. Tiana.”

Tiana blinked owlishly, lips pursed. Was this man really worried about her so much that the thought of her soldering through the night would cause him to toss and turn?

“You’re coddling again.”

“Protecting.” Nanami argued lightly, taking notice of how his jacket began slipping off her shoulders. He gently grabs the collars, adjusting them around her body, pulling them back into place as Tiana stood there, in some sort of state of parity.

“You can hold onto this tonight.” Nanami said, voice unwavering. His phone chimes, and he looks down at the message displayed in content. “The car will be parked out front. Just show your ID, and they’ll take care of the rest.”

Tiana nodded, taking a few steps back, her shoes clicking on the floor as she began to leave Nanami; he stood there with a wide stance, feet apart and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Tiana couldn’t help but feel immense gratitude bubbling up within her. She held the jacket to her body one more time, allowing its warmth to soothe her. It reminded her of a hug from an old friend, and the comfort almost made her knees wobble.

“Thank you, Mr. Nanami.” Tiana said, still trailing backwards, ever so slowly. A small part of her didn’t want to depart just yet; wanted to revel in this feeling a while longer. She missed this feeling.

“Thank you for everything.”

The words echoed in Nanami’s core, vibrating so fast that the friction caused a warm feeling to bloom within him. And though his face was still aloof, his eyes were as soft as butter left out on the counter before baking a cake.

“Anytime, Ms. Tiana.”

And Nanami meant that. 

The only issue is that neither party had a way of contacting the other.

Tiana sat on her bed, looking at Nanami’s tan jacket; it was wrapped in plastic after just arriving back from the dry cleaner’s. She didn’t want to return it soiled; she had accidentally gotten tears on it, it was wrinkled from how hard she clenched it on the car ride home, and some brown foundation found itself on the collar and sleeves. It had been two weeks since she borrowed it, and she had a feeling he was missing an important piece to his wardrobe. And even if he wasn’t, she had no need for it in her home. She couldn’t remember the last time a man’s article of clothing occupied her space.

But her first assumption rang true, as Nanami sat on his bed, half dressed, realizing that his jacket was gone, and he had no way of contacting her properly to get it back.

“Shit.” He muttered, rubbing his face. His blue shirt was halfway buttoned, and the leather garter belts hung loosely off his shoulders, unfastened at the torso. He meant to get in contact with Tiana earlier, but between work and cleaning up the mess from the Halloween party, he had been so distracted.

He was first going to ask Lottie for Tiana’s number, but didn’t want it taken out of context. So, after some slight digging, and avoiding Misha’s watchful gaze, he was able to get her number from Shoko, who was very nonchalant since he would finally be “taking his responsibility seriously”.

But, after receiving the information, he still couldn’t use it. How would he justify calling her personal line during or after hours? Especially over something as trivial as a suit jacket? How would he explain receiving it in the first place? He wanted to be sure he didn’t cause a problem for her like Misha, but at the same time, he needed to complete his wardrobe once more.

So, when he received an office call from the front desk saying an annoying and persistent intern kept calling the office to get in contact with him, he was eager to answer.

“Hello?” Nanami answered once the call was transferred, a bit quicker than he wanted to admit.

“This is Kento Nanami.” His voice deepened cartoonishly so after clearing his voice into the receiver.

“Mr. Nanami?” Tiana’s voice crackled through the line. Nanami took note of how her voice sounded slightly different over the phone; how her voice seemed to be siphoned of its usual warmth when heard in person, yet the way she said his name tickled his ear with how close she sounded.

“Hello, Mr. Nanami. It’s Tiana.”

“Ms. Tiana, what a pleasant surprise.” Nanami shifted in his seat, his legs pressing against the undersides of his desk. The phone hung lazily in his hand as his back pressed against his chair.

“I apologize if I’m calling you at a bad time.” Tiana said. “I tried calling earlier, but the receptionist said you were fairly busy today, and declined my request to speak with you.”

“I heard you were quite persistent.”

 “Well, I didn’t mean to pester.”

“No, no. You’re fine. My schedule is officially clear for the day.”

“Well, I’m glad.”

The line goes silent for a moment, before Tiana interjects with the sudden clearing of her throat.

“I called because I wanted to return your jacket. The one you let me borrow a while ago?”

“Oh, that old jacket?” Nanami attempted to joke, but his sarcasm weighed too heavily on his words to the point where it sounded true. “I didn’t even notice it was gone.”

Tiana blinks. 

“Oh, really?”

Nanami squeezes his eyes, his mouth scrunched as he raises his fist to his lips.

“No, I’m sorry. I was joking. I missed it quite a bit today.”

“Oh lord, I’m so sorry.” Nanami could practically see Tiana’s forehead scrunch together. “I wanted to return it sooner, but I didn’t have your cell.”

“It’s fine, it’s okay.” Nanami reassured her. “It’s not too big of a deal, and I wouldn’t want you lugging it here.” Nanami imagined all the comments that Tiana would be subject to if she brought something as innocent as a man’s jacket to the office. Even though the situation had been settled, it was best to keep a low profile for now and not cause any unnecessary troubles for her.

“I can understand why…” Tiana had a feeling that he was insinuating, but didn’t want to dwell on it longer than she should.

“Would you rather me come by and pick it up?”

“No, no, I wouldn’t want you going out of your way.”

“Are you sure? I still remember how to get there.”

“I’m positive. Let me bring it to you, it’s the least I could do for your kindness.”

Nanami pursed his lips. Tiana was a woman who wouldn’t budge, but he was also the unstoppable force to Tiana’s immovable object. There was only one way to properly settle.

“How about we meet halfway?” Nanami asked. “Some place not too far from either of us, that way neither of us are going out of our way.”

Nanami had begun to catch on; the easiest way to grasp onto Tiana was to compromise, and Nanami found that stubborn yet understandable. He too hated the idea of being indebted to someone, or being a bother.

The line was silent for a moment.

“What about the market?” Tiana seemed to hum, and Nanami could remember it crystal clear; the night when Nanami bumped into her while she was out shopping. He nodded.

“I recall.” He said, caressing the phone with his thumb. “I’ll be there in about 15.”

“Alright. See you soon.”

Nanami found himself there a lot sooner than he said, and when he spotted Tiana a ways down the street, carrying his jacket, he took long strides up to her, shoulders broad and wide as his arms swayed meticulously beside him.

Tiana strutted to him, his plastic wrapped jacket draped over her arms as her black heels clicked rhythmically on the cement. She wore black pants that flared at the bottom, but hugged her hips tightly, and a white blouse that ruffle at the sleeve and collar. Her hair, that Nanami usually saw in an updo or ponytail, flurried out like a dark halo around her head, tight ringlets springing with every step as she grew closer.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” Tiana curled a brow, huffing as she stood before Nanami.

“I’m just early.”

“If you arrive after the boss, you’re late.”

Nanami blew air from his nose, never hearing such a phrase; it amused him.

“Who told you that?”

Tiana pauses for a moment, swallowing away the wad that seemed to grow in her chest. She ignored the tightening of her heart, tilting her head with a painful grin; her lips were tight as she looked up at him under her lashes.

“I came up with it myself.”

Nanami tried to restrain a frown, instead blinking slowly. Though the principle was commendable, he could only imagine how painful it was to expose those painful roots to him.

“Are you hungry?”

Tiana looks slightly taken aback by his question. She hadn’t eaten all day, with Misha and whoever else running her ragged during the day and even through her lunch break. But with the timing of the question, she couldn't help but feel a bit weary.

“Why?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just wanted to…check on you.”

“Check on me?”

“Was that too forward?”

“Mr. Nanami, do you normally check on the interns?”

“Not unless they’re causing trouble for me.”

“Does this have to do with those sleepless nights?”

Nanami tongued the inside of his cheek, amused at the banter. Tiana, a woman so quick-witter yet shrouded in a mystery he felt compelled to deduce.

“Cheeky.” Nanami muttered as he blew air from his nostrils, and Tiana simply raised a brow, her lips pursed as she gave him a knowing look. Tiana was not a dumb woman, and Nanami knew this just from being in her presence. No matter how he spun or tried to flip his words, Tiana would pick them apart and reveal his true intentions. It would just be better if he chose to be honest, so Tiana gave him that chance.

“Mr. Nanami, are you checking on me, or interrogating me?”

Nanami bit the inside of his cheek.

“If I was completely transparent with you, would you decline?”

“You’re very keen on asking me questions when I ask for answers, Mr. Nanami.”

“Well, would you?”

Tiana squints her eyes at the man. She was disoriented by his game. While his actions could be rooted in kindness, even a sliver of empathy, she couldn’t help but question his sudden barrage of concern. Was he actually considering her, or was he searching for something else? Was this actually out of the kindness of his heart?

“I’m more inclined to believe someone when they’re honest the first time.” Tiana shifts her stance, then hands Nanami the wrapped jacket. “Just…don’t lie to me.”

Nanami graciously grabbed the jacket, the plastic crinkling in his touch as Tiana looked up at him with her round lips skewed. The expression on her face held nothing but uncertainty, a subtle fear as she stood there unsure. The way her nerves wafted off of her body made Nanami’s heart feel heavy with guilt, but he couldn’t get a reign on his own curiosity.

“Come on, I know a place nearby.” Nanami said, walking in the opposing direction. He then turns to look back over his shoulder, lips in a playfully snide smile.

“That is, if you’ll trust me with the restaurant selection.”

Tiana let a scoff bubble from her throat, shaking her head, her hair bouncing effortlessly.

“Don’t push your luck.”

Tiana took quick steps to catch up to Nanami’s strides, looking up at him with curiosity.

“How far is it?” Tiana asked. She didn’t want to complain too much, but her feet were starting to cramp in her heels.

“About a 10 minute walk. Why do you ask?”

Tiana shrugged, not wanting to answer, so Nanami answered for her.

“Would you rather take my car? If your feet are hurting-”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Tiana was quick to dismiss him, and Nanami chose not to fight it. He simply nodded. He then took notice of Tiana’s pace, the way her heels snipped so quickly to his left. Shortening his own steps, he gently puts a hand on Tiana’s shoulder and guides her to his right side, away from the busy street. Tiana raises her brows slightly, but keeps quiet as Nanami shoves his hands into his pants pockets.

The walk was quiet, and if it weren’t for the gentle hum of patrons at the dimly lit restaurant, it would have been suffocatingly silent. Nanami had offered to order for Tiana, but she was very adamant on ordering for herself. Nanami was surprised at how well she seemed to speak and interact with the server, her enunciation seemed to have excelled since the last time he heard her attempt his language.

“Well color me impressed.” Nanami said, his fist on the table as his thumb ran circles on his pointer finger. “Have you been practicing?”

“Well, when your boss and coworkers send you all over Timbuktu with no sort of help or guidance, you kind of have to adapt whether you like it or not.” Tiana says, taking a sip or her water. She tried to blame the lone lemon in her sweating glass for the tart taste in her mouth.

“That’s one of the things I wanted to discuss with you.” Nanami leaned forward slightly. “Are Misha and the others tormenting you?”

“Tormenting is a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Are they bothering you?”

“They’re helping me build character.”

“Why don’t you want to tell me?” Nanami questioned. “Are you scared you’ll get her fired?”

“Not necessarily…” Tiana muttered. 

“Whatever you tell me, it will be confidential.” Nanami says, doing his best to reassure her. “I won’t bring it with any company outside of us, let alone work.”

“Like attorney-client privilege?” Tiana said, swirling her straw around the glass.

Nanami blows air through his nose. “If you want to call it that.”

“You said ‘company outside of us’.” Tiana emphasized, her voice teeming with frustration. “Are you saying there will be more times like this?”

Nanami frowned slightly at her tone. Is that really such a problem?

“If you would like, Ms. Tiana.”

“Mr. Nanami, what are you getting at?” Tiana restrained herself from bubbling over. “I heard what Mr. Gojo said that night at the party, and I feel like you all are holding something over me, or analyzing me and I don’t appreciate that.”

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Do you worry about all the interns' comfort? Or anyone at work, for that matter?”

Nanami blinked. Of course he was keeping a closer eye on her, and it wasn’t just because of Lottie.

“Does it bother you that much?” Nanami asked.

“It does, actually.” Tiana flattens her left hand on the table, enough to rattle the ice cubes in their respective glasses. “Because it doesn’t feel purely genuine, especially after what Mr. Gojo said. It feels like you’re trying to get something out of me, or use me for some hidden vendetta, and I don’t like that. I just want to blend in with everyone else.”

“But why? Why would you, when your…” Nanami didn’t bother finishing his sentence. Tiana’s fists ball, the silver band on her finger gnawing into her pigment. She chews on the inside of her cheek, her nostrils flaring as she deduces what Nanami was itching to ask.

“He gave up everything for me because I was too prideful. He took my last name because I didn’t want to bear the weight and wealth of his. I couldn’t handle that title. He was drawn to the more lavish things in life, and I simply wanted to live quietly. We were met with backlash, but we pulled through. I just…I just wanted to be normal, and earn my keep. He did more than I could ever repay, and feeling indebted to your significant other doesn’t make for good talks at the dinner table.”

Nanami stayed quiet. He watched Tiana’s body language shift; her rigged exterior seemed to melt and puddle into nothing but grief in her leathered seat. She fiddled with her ring; alternating fingers or twirling it in her palm, trying to calm herself. Tiana didn’t think she would be spilling her bowels to this man, but it was as if the cracking dam within her being had finally collapsed and caused all her memories to surge forth.

“But fighting so hard to be everyone else when it seems you’re destined for a greater purpose seems kind of intuitive, don’t you think?”

Tiana drops her head, and Nanami watches a shiny drop of fall from her face. She couldn’t bear looking up, the wad in her throat weighed her neck down.

“You sound just like my sister.”

“Sister?”

“We ain’t cut from the same cloth, heaven knows we don’t look it.” Tiana raised her face slightly, and though her eyes had begun to redden, her face still shone with pride. “But she’s the closest thing to flesh and blood that I have now.”

Nanami swallowed thickly. He picked up his glass, swirling the contents around, a mini whirlpool forming as he avoided Tiana’s eye.

“Her name?”

“Charlotte.” Tiana seemed to say her name breathlessly, and it sure did steal the air from Nanami as his chest tightened. He saw the way Tiana’s face seemed to glitter like the fabric on a sparkling dress.

“She’s a cute lil’ thang, a bit loud and nosey but her heart is always in the right place.” Tiana hummed. “She’s always hovering over me, but for good reasons….” Her voice trailed.

Nanami stayed silent.

“You know, she’s the one that pushed me to take this job so much, even though it’s so far away.”

“Hm.”

“I can’t help but wonder why, sometimes. I’m surprised she didn’t pick something closer so she could breathe down my neck.”

“Mm.” Nanami cleared his throat aggressively, the cough rattling in his chest. As he brought a fist to his mouth to cover it, Tiana looked at him with concern.

“Are you alright?” She asked, so innocently.

“As rain.” Nanami said, taking a sip from his glass. He took a large gulp, downing more than half of the dark drink, before placing it down. He tries to discreetly change the subject, his lips jutting out.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything else to drink?”

Tiana shook her head. “Just water is fine.”

“I don’t mind if you want something else, it’s on me.”

“I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Lightweight?”

Tiana scoffs. “You have no idea.” She then ponders, tapping a finger on the table. “There is one drink I used to love though.”

“Oh?”

“It was about ninety-nine percent juice, but it was nice to sip on to look the part.” She pauses, the name just on the tip of her tongue. “An amaretto sour.”

“Delicate and sweet.” Nanami said, referring to the drink, and Tiana hummed in agreement. Nanami then flags down their waiter, mumbling something to them, and they scurry off.

“What did you ask for?”

Nanami swallowed the rest of his liquor, running his tongue behind his teeth as he felt a growing hearth in the pit of his abdomen.

“Something that’s ninety-nine percent juice.” Nanami said, and just as he finished his sentence, the waiter brought back two glasses filled with a green drink with a white foam layered on top, and what smelled like cinnamon in the shape of a waterlily. He placed the items down, the glass clinking as Tiana watched the dazzling citrus push against the cubes of ice delicately. The waiter scoops up Nanami’s empty glass, nodding his head, and retreating to the kitchen.

Tiana mouthed a quick “oh” in surprise, her eyes flitting from her glass back to Nanami, who seemed to look content.

“Let’s see what you were raving about.” Nanami says, taking the thin black straw and placing it between his lips. He took a quick sip, knowing the drink opposed his usual preference, and was grateful because it was literally just a shot of juice and sugar. He smacks his lips slightly, his face scrunched up, and Tiana’s unease seems to fade into a nervous giggle behind her hand. He shakes his head, a low chuckle rolling through his chest.

“Well, you were right about the juice part.”

“I told you so.” Tiana seemed to rejoice in a mocking tone, and it warmed Nanami up a bit more. “I thought you weren’t much of a sweets man.”

I guess I did say that before, Nanami thought. He shrugged.

“But I can grow accustomed to them.”

Tiana lets out an airy laugh. She looks down at the glass, memories of the first time she ordered this drink; Naveen being the one to initially introduce it to her when she admitted her distaste for alcohol. She remembers the first time she took a sip, and how Naveen laughed at how she drank it so eagerly, and decided for old times sake to relive that old memory in the present.

Discarding her straw, she lifts the sweaty glass up delicately, and drinks straight from it. The slight carbonation mixed with the sugar and cinnamon seems to jumpstart something within her, and she can’t help but giggle behind her cup. After not so gracefully, chugging the beverage down, she places it on the table; nothing but foam residing at the bottom.

Nanami sat there with a raised brow, which soon turned into a playful tug at his lips when he noticed the foam line across Tiana’s upper lip, which was curved into a soft grin. It was nice to see her loosen up; it was so rare to see anything but a frown knitted between those brows, or pressed firmly across her mouth. So instead of correcting her manners or pointing out the white stache, he decided to live in the moment with her. With squinted eyes, he chugged the sugary beverage, slamming the glass down with exhaustion as he scrunched his nose in slight distaste.

Tiana sat there, mildly impressed that a businessman like Nanami, with such a large title and prestige was here in his sharp suit, chugging down juiced up alcoholic beverages with her as if she had just turned 21 and not as though she were knocking on 27. She pointed out, and audibly chuckled at the thick foam that adorned his mouth and the tip of his nose. But her laughter came to a halt as Nanami frivolously wiped away at his face, and he momentarily became someone else in her eyes. Someone she didn’t think she’d get to see again in this lifetime.

“What?” Nanami said, as they trotted slowly down the sidewalk with Tiana away from the street, both buzzed with warmth, but at the same time lost in their own thoughts; Tiana’s just seemed a lot louder than his at the moment.

“What are you thinking about?” Nanami asked gently, his words coming out in white wisps as his plastic wrapped jacket laid across his arms. Tiana walked in silence for a moment, before speaking up.

“You’re just going to leave your car?” Tiana asks, looking back towards the direction of Nanami’s car, and Nanami follows her gaze. He shrugs, continuing forward.

“You’d just decline.” Nanami said. “But I’m starting to like the walk.”

“I’m sorry if I’m inconveniencing you.” Tiana muttered, looking away.

“You have nothing to apologize for, I don’t mind.” Nanami reassured her.

“You’re…you’re really kind to me, Mr. Nanami, and I really appreciate it. And…I’m sorry if I blew up on you back there.” Tiana admits with a heavy sigh. “It’s very hard to find a friendly face around here, so I was quick to misjudge you, when in reality…I feel better having one around.”

Though it’s hard to admit, Tiana thought.

“I’m glad I can provide you with ease.” Nanami says, but he feels a twinge of guilt. Though he is genuine with his interactions with her, he knew their newfound friendship was essentially built on a set-up.

“I don’t mean to sour the mood…” Nanami started, covering his mouth with his palm. Instead of liquid courage, the sugar seemed to amplify his nerves. But he just had to ask. “But why do you despise car rides so much?”

Nanami was sure Tiana would berate him for such a question, one that toed the line of something so personal, especially after they finally found common ground. But instead, Tiana’s cheeks bubbled with a dismissive laugh, as if he had asked her something so utterly ridiculous.

It wasn’t that Tiana found the question to be harmless, she could sense the weight of curiosity hanging on each word, and the way his voice dipped in concern. But she felt as giddy as a five year old surged with artificial sugars. It was kind of embarrassing, but it felt nice to have her cheeks sting from laughter instead of the usual tears.

“You’re going to have to give me a few more amarettos to get that out of me, Mr. Nanami.” She seemed to sing her words as their steps seemed to grow longer in the night. As silence befell them, Nanami listened to the sounds of the city; the whisk of passing cars that cause the wind to whip around his body, the sound of leaves bending in the chilling breeze, the crunch of gravel beneath their feet, the way their steps fell out of rhythm with each others as Tiana’s clicks delayed behind for just a millisecond. He didn’t know why, but his sense of sound seemed more amplified.

He looked down to see Tiana’s shoes catching on the pavement, as she tried to hide the slight limp forming.

“Do your feet hurt?” Nanami asked, watching the denial form on her lips. He already knew the answer. She had subtly kicked them off while they were at the restaurant, and when she apologized for accidentally kicking him under the table, he felt a delicate brush instead of the sting of a stiletto.

“It’s fine.” Tiana was quick, but not that convincing, even when she tried to throw in a slight giggle to ease his worry. Nanami pursed his lips, looking past Tiana and to his right at the stores that provided an urban backdrop. His eyes caught something, and he gently brushed past Tiana as he approached one of the shops.

“Wait here.” He asked her, and though confused, Tiana did just that. She watched him enter the store swiftly, the bell above the door signaling his entrance. She turns toward the street, rocking back and forth on her heels in silence. As she stared up at the glittered sky, the door to the shop opened again. She turned to see Nanami holding a pair of slippers wrapped delicately in plastic. As she took a closer look she noticed the shape and color; a lime green with yellow lining, and two beady eyes on each shoe. She scoffs, folding her arms across her chest as she looks at Nanami.

“Very funny.” She says, looking at the frog slippers. Nanami looks at her with an amusing expression as he holds them up.

“I know they don’t match your outfit, but they’re amusing, no?” His voice is sly but the playfulness in the air keeps everything light. Tiana simply laughs, taking the shoes.

“Thank you.” She says, unwrapping the shoes. Nanami takes the plastic as she tears it off and shoves it into his pockets, then he puts his free arm out to give her some balance.

“I’ve got you.” He mutters, and Tiana takes the opportunity and latches on to his arm as she slips off each shoe and replaces it with the goofy, albeit comfy slippers. Nanami grabs the heels from her hand as she adjusts herself, and takes notice of how much she shrunk in height. She wasn’t a petite woman in physical features at all, but the shoes definitely knocked her down a few inches. Nanami had never noticed that before, every time they were in each other's presence, she wore heels of some sort.

Nanami let the shoes dangle on his middle and index fingers as they began walking again.

“Make sure to wear more comfortable shoes next time.” Nanami says.

“Next time?”

Nanami’s steps stutter slightly as he realizes what he had said so carelessly. All he could do was blame the sugar coursing through his veins for the slip in his tongue, and the sudden spark in his chest.

He would not be drinking any more amaretto sours anytime soon.

“Is that alright?” He asked, focusing on the way his shoes hit the pavement, instead of the look Tiana was giving him. “A friendly face providing friendly company?”

Nanami awaits her answer with baited breath, watching her ponder and think with that frown, but it wasn’t as firm. As she came to her decision, she sighed, nodding her head. She couldn’t refute him for some odd reason, and she didn’t want to. She found that odd, but not as odd as him trying so hard to make her feel comfortable.

“Sure, Mr. Nanami.” She agreed, pulling her phone from her pocket. “Here, I’ll give you my cell.”

Nanami had to bite his tongue from sharing the fact that he had already acquired her number. He simply nods as Tiana recites her digits, and he dials them, ignoring how her name popped up on his phone as he dialed. He called the number, and her phone chimed. She showed her screen to confirm that she had it. Nanami raised a brow, gesturing to her ringing phone.

“Are you not going to answer?” He said jokingly. Again, all he could do was blame the liquid sucrose for his childish antics. Tiana laughed, sliding her thumb across the screen to answer.

“Hello Mr. Nanami.” Tiana said into the line, and Nanami was able to compare how her delayed voice in his ear didn’t quite match the warmth of her voice as she stood in front of him.

“Hello, Ms. Tiana.” Nanami said, playing along, looking into her eyes. The stars seemed to twinkle in them. “How are you?”

Another laugh. A real laugh. Each time she laughed, it seemed to shed another layer, demolish another wall. It seemed fuller, much more so compared to the airy breath she would do to feign happiness.

“Mr. Nanami, you do realize we’re right next to each other?”

“I’m aware.”

With a shake of her shoulders, she drops the phone in disbelief, hanging up. Nanami does the same, putting his phone back into the depths of his pocket.

“Thank you, Mr. Nanami.” Tiana says gently as water seems to line her bottom lid. “I…I really needed this.”

“It’s good to get out of your own head sometimes, right?”

Tiana simply nods, humming in agreement. They turn, continuing down the pavement, relishing in the silence. Tiana hadn’t felt this light in years, and for once, she didn’t feel guilty sharing that burden with someone who became the unlikeliest of acquaintances. Though there were still some things she wanted to get to the bottom of, a few things she wanted to investigate, and a goal she still wanted to accomplish before the termination of her internship, she wanted to relish in this sugary warmth, allow the taste of foam to linger on her tongue a little longer. To walk into the night a little farther. She didn’t want to worry about those things until tomorrow, but at the same time didn’t want the sun to do its job and allow tomorrow to arrive.

She looks up at the sky, and for the first time since she’s been here, she noticed how the moon wasn’t a thin crescent, nor was it cowering behind the dark clouds; it wasn’t even half. It was full, a white hole projecting its light onto the earth below. It seemed so close, she could almost count the craters on its face, and it felt like if she reached her hand far enough, she’d be able to touch it. The stars seemed to frame it perfectly, twinkling like diamonds.

“The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” Tiana asks Nanami, staring up at the sky. Nanami glances up at the celestial body, and briefly lets his gaze fall on her, then back to the moon. Though it was brief, no more than half a second, the detail had been imprinted into his memory. The way her face shone with the moon’s grace, the light catching in those brown eyes that looked like honey were drizzled into her irises. The way the breeze gently brushed against her curls, and lastly the serene expression that fell on her features. She looked so relaxed, so sure, so content, and Nanami returned the sentiment. He allowed his shoulders to relax as he took a deep breath.

"It really is."

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ | ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ | ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀʜᴇᴀᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ʟɪꜱᴛ

[purplehairedwonder]

Hearts With(out) Chains Chapter 11

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen (eventual Lawlu) Words: 3537 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Monkey D. Luffy, Zoro, Nami, Franky, Smoker, Tashigi, Vergo Note: I’m taking my turn at the Corazon!Law AU because my brain won’t leave me alone until this is written down. Tags will be updated as the chapters come out.

The story title is based on the Ellie Goulding song “Hearts Without Chains.”

Summary: Law is reclaimed by the Family when he's 17 and, with Doflamingo holding the lives of his crew as collateral for his good behavior, eventually becomes the third Corazon. Years later, trapped by his impossible situation, Law finds a strange connection to Monkey D. Luffy, which offers a glimpse of something he's repeatedly had ripped away from him: hope.

Previous chapters: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

Smoker’s eyes widened. “Vergo? What is the head of G-5 doing here?”

“I’m here on business, Vice Admiral,” Vergo replied, inclining his head at Smoker.

“We called for backup but were told you were on leave,” the swordswoman said, frowning.

He never said whose business he’s here on, Law thought wryly as he sliced through the chains holding the two Marines captive. He stepped back out of the cage, eyeing Vergo. Law didn’t like the sense of satisfaction radiating off the older man. He’d heard what Law had said—but had anyone else?

“Doffy didn’t believe me before that you’re a traitor, but now he’ll have it in your own words, Law.”

Could Vergo have a line open to Dressrosa? Or perhaps he’d recorded what Law had said.

It also confirmed that Vergo had called Doffy with his report on Law’s defection, but apparently Doffy wasn’t buying it; the Warlord knew full well the safeguards he’d put into place to prevent Law from betraying him, after all. If Vergo had proof, though…

Law needed to make sure those words never left this room.

“I didn’t think you’d be so foolish as to blow your cover over a grudge,” Law commented, raising an eyebrow. He kept his tone purposefully light, but he expanded his Room and kept Kikoku hefted in front of him.

With a quick scan of his Room, he found Zoro’s swords and Shambled them into the man’s hands. Zoro let out a surprised yelp (one Law knew he would deny making until his dying day), and Law’s lip twitched as he glanced back and met the pirate hunter’s eye. The other man’s startled expression quickly shifted into a nod of appreciation as he replaced the blades at his side.

“Cover?” the swordswoman asked, following Smoker out of the cell.

Smoker jerked. “A traitor?” he growled, glancing between Law and Vergo. His gaze finally settled on the base commander. He shook his head, and Law could practically hear the pieces clicking into place in his brain. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it. You’re the one who’s been covering up the abductions of the children, aren’t you?”

“Don’t feel too bad, White Chase-ya,” Law said, and Smoker looked back at him suspiciously. “It’s not like Vergo was a traitor to the Marines. Vergo was a pirate from the start.”

“What?”

Law couldn’t help his lip curling into a sneer. “He’s Doflamingo’s most trusted subordinate. He joined the Marines on his orders fifteen years ago and climbed the ranks.”

“A pirate posing as a Marine,” Smoker hissed. “Shameful.” He shook his head, disgusted.

“How dare you,” the captain yelled at Vergo, betrayal tinging the anger in her voice. “Those children are innocent!”

“They’re sacrifices for the greater good, Captain Tashigi,” Vergo said simply. He’d been watching the exchange with a bored affect in place, though Law knew better than to take him at face value; Vergo was always poised to attack.

“The greater good?” the cat burglar snapped. “What greater good could possibly come from experimenting on children?”

“That is super messed up,” the cyborg agreed.

“A world ruled by Donquixote Doflamingo, of course,” Vergo said, as though the answer were obvious. And, Law supposed, for Vergo, it was. “Give me some credit for keeping up my cover, Smoker-kun. I’ve been on my guard ever since you transferred to G-5. It will be good to finally be rid of that concern.”

Vergo turned back to Law. “And who says I’m blowing my cover, Law?” Vergo had completely dispensed with Law’s title, apparently. He’d never respected Law as a successor, no matter how many times Doffy pushed him on it, and now he had the excuse to back it up. “None of them are leaving this island. I’ll file it away as a tragic accident at sea, as always.”

Law narrowed his eyes, reminded once more of the World Government’s coverup of Flevance’s destruction. Vergo, as far as Law was concerned, was proof pirates and soldiers weren’t so different, no matter what people like Smoker professed. Law knew he was no better, but he also never claimed to be.

“I won’t let that happen,” Smoker snarled. He didn’t have his jitte since he’d been captured—and Law wasn’t feeling particularly inclined to return the weapon that had taken him down with Seastone—but he didn’t let that stop him.

Smoker shifted into smoke form and charged Vergo with an outraged yell. He had to know about Vergo’s talent with haki and the effect it would have on his Fruit’s abilities, but he attacked anyway, his fury at his base commander’s betrayal driving him on.

“Smoker-san!” the captain called, worried.

“What is he doing?” Zoro muttered.

Smoker punched at Vergo with a smoky tendril, but Vergo blackened his arm and grabbed the smoke. Smoker cursed as Vergo spun and whipped him into the far wall. Smoker coughed and sagged to the floor. His second and the Straw Hats gasped, but Law took the moment of distraction to Scan Vergo; there was a Den Den Mushi in his pocket.

With a twitch of his fingers, the Den Den Mushi flew from Vergo’s coat toward Law. Vergo’s eyes snapped toward him.

“No!”

Law grabbed the snail from midair, and he pocketed it just as Vergo’s haki-coated stick slammed into his chest, tossing him like a rag doll into the wall behind him. The back of Law’s head hit the metal; his vision briefly went dark, and his stomach threatened to empty itself—another blow to his head was not what Law needed when he already had a concussion—but Law, taking a stabilizing breath, was able to collect his wits and keep his Room from falling. He Shambled himself across the room before Vergo could recover the Den Den Mushi.

“Brat!” Vergo snapped as he turned to find Law slumped over on one of the couches, having swapped places with a pillow. “But I suppose running away is always what you’ve done best.”

Law could vaguely hear the Straw Hats making some kind of commotion, though their words wouldn’t form in his ears; his blurry vision, however, was directed entirely toward the man striding toward him, a murderous intent barely contained beneath his haki-clad skin; Vergo knew he couldn’t kill Law before bringing him back to Dressrosa, but that wouldn’t stop him from beating the shit out of him—again.

Law just needed a moment to bring his vision back into focus…

Suddenly, Vergo was flying across the room. He crashed into the far wall and crumpled. Law blinked, his battered brain trying to comprehend what he was seeing. Belatedly, he turned to see Straw Hat, flanked by his crewmates, standing in the doorway, his rubbery arm returning to him with a loud snap.

Before dealing with that, Law pulled Vergo’s Den Den Mushi from his pocketed and noted in relief that there wasn’t a live line open. That meant Doffy hadn’t been listening in. Vergo still could have recorded his words, but Law would worry about that later. If Doffy hadn’t heard Law, then all Law had to do was prevent Vergo from bringing his words back to Dressrosa.

He pushed himself to his feet and headed toward the new arrivals. His vision was clearing, but his balance was still slightly off. The doctor in him was concerned, but the pirate in him knew he didn’t have the luxury of taking a break.

The two factions of Straw Hats were greeting each other happily. Straw Hat’s expression lit up as Law approached.

“Torao!”

“What are you doing here, Straw Hat-ya?” Law demanded. “We agreed you would wait.”

Straw Hat frowned. “We were talking, but then there was all this chaos on Torao’s end of the line. No one was responding. It sounded dangerous, so we decided to help.”

Ah. Law supposed he had gotten distracted by Vergo’s appearance and hadn’t considered how that would have sounded to the Straw Hats listening in.

“So, what exactly happened to cause this?” the cat burglar asked, gesturing between Straw Hat and Law. Though she’d agreed to trust Straw Hat, she was still suspicious of Law—and she was right to be.

Still, Law ignored her. They didn’t have time for this; Vergo wouldn’t stay down long, even after taking a hit like that.

“If you want to rescue the children, this would be the time to do it,” he said.

“What about him?” Straw Hat asked, nodding back toward Vergo.

Law grimaced as he noticed Vergo stirring. “I can handle it.”

“Because that went so well before,” Black Leg muttered.

Law ignored him as well. He didn’t have Seastone draining his abilities now. “I’ll handle it,” he repeated, looking directly at Straw Hat. Vergo might be taking an excuse to finish what he’d started thirteen years earlier, but Law wasn’t a terminally ill child anymore. It was unfinished business for them both.

“Luffy, what—” the cat burglar started.

But Straw Hat studied Law’s face for a long moment and seemed to find whatever he was looking for because he nodded. “Okay.”

Law felt a measure of relief at the response; it wasn’t that he needed Straw Hat’s permission to take on Vergo—alliance or not, he wouldn’t let anyone take this fight from him—but having his agreement was a lot easier. His crew would follow his lead, and they’d be able to accomplish both their tasks and move on to rescuing Law’s nakama.

“What?” several Straw Hats gasped.

“Okay,” Straw Hat repeated. “Torao will handle the Verto guy, and we’ll go after the kids.”

“You think I’m going to let that happen?” Vergo said. He’d risen to his feet and stood, arms crossed, in front of the doorway the Straw Hats would need to go through to find the children.

Straw Hat made to draw his arm back again, but before he could strike, Law held out a hand. Straw Hat stopped, eyeing Law curiously.

“Go. Caesar and Monet are still with the children. They’re both Fruit users, so don’t take them lightly.”

“But—”

Law Shambled Vergo into the cage, and, with a few twists of his fingers, retwined the wires holding the front of the cage together. The doorway was now open, and Vergo cursed. The cage wouldn’t hold him long, but it didn’t need to—just long enough for the others to leave.

Straw Hat whooped. “Thanks, Torao!” he called as he charged forward, the promise of a fight clearly drawing him like a magnet.

“Wait, Luffy!” the cat burglar called, running after her captain. “You don’t know where you’re going!”

Straw Hat’s laughter echoed against the metal walls as the Straw Hats and, Law noticed, Smoker’s second filed out of the open doorway. Smoker, however, remained where he was; he’d gotten to his feet while Law was talking to the Straw Hats. Law narrowed his eyes at the other man.

“This is my fight, White Chase-ya. Stay out of my way.”

“That man is a traitor to the Marines, and I plan to see justice done,” Smoker said, voice tight, as he strode up next to Law. “Don’t get in my way, pirate.”

Law and Smoker both turned at the sound of a metallic slam; Vergo had kicked the cage’s front out, the metal wiring sliding several feet across the floor before coming to rest. Though Vergo’s eyes were still hidden behind his glasses, Law could feel the anger radiating off the man.

“Enough,” he snapped, stepping back into the room.

“My thoughts exactly,” Smoker roared, charging at Vergo. “Traitor!”

Law sighed but didn’t intervene. Though he thought the man was being foolish considering how his previous attack had failed, Law could understand his rage at realizing Vergo, the base commander of his own unit, was a traitor.

However, Smoker wouldn’t get an advantage on Vergo this way; Vergo’s haki was superior to the other vice admiral’s. The first Corazon didn’t have a Devil Fruit to enhance his attacks, so he’d trained and honed his haki over the years until his masterful control and overwhelming power became what he was known for. For a Logia like Smoker, Vergo was a bad matchup.

Still, if he wanted to wear Vergo down while Law took a few moments to rest, Law wasn’t going to object. At full strength, Law wasn’t particularly concerned about taking Vergo on, but he didn’t want to take any chances when he was unsteady with a head injury. As the two vice admirals clashed, Law scanned the room until he found Smoker’s jitte. He could still feel the ghost of the Seastone tip slamming into his back, causing his Room to fall around him as weakness spread through his entire body. Law grimaced, but, grudgingly, he summoned the weapon into his hand.

“White Chase-ya,” he called as Smoker fell back from a swipe of Vergo’s bamboo stick.

“What?” Smoker demanded, not looking toward Law.

“Catch.” He tossed the jitte in the man’s direction.

Smoker’s eyes flicked in his direction then widened as he saw his weapon flying in his direction. He sent a smoky arm toward it, grabbing the hilt before Vergo could interfere. He grunted a nod in Law’s direction, clearly unhappy to owe Law anything else.

Even with his jitte, Smoker was clearly outmatched. Vergo’s haki-coated arms were able to strike Smoker’s smoke form, forcing him to revert to his base form. They traded blows, Vergo’s bamboo stick with Smoker’s jitte. Vergo’s haki-enhanced hits pushed Smoker into retreat.

“It’s no use, Smoker-kun,” Vergo taunted. “You’re no match for me.”

“You’ve betrayed G-5. The men trusted you. I’ll see you pay for that, pirate,” Smoker snarled back.

Vergo side-stepped Smoker’s blow and looked at him curiously. “You seem to care for those morons. Why?”

Smoker leapt at Vergo, only to be pushed aside by his bamboo. “Because they’re my men!”

Vergo tsked. “And that is your problem, Smoker-kun. Placing loyalty in trash. You will only end up discarded along with them.”

Smoker roared in response, but Vergo kicked out and tripped Smoker. Smoker fell backwards, hissing as his back hit the floor. His eyes widened as Vergo suddenly appeared above him, ready to strike a killing blow with his bamboo.

Deciding he’d seen enough, Law twitched his fingers, sending Vergo to the far side of the room.

“Law,” Vergo growled when he realized what had happened. “Don’t interfere. I’ll have time for you, too.”

Law rolled his eyes and turned back to Smoker. “Enough, White Chase-ya.”

“Dammit, Corazon! I can still—” He broke off, wincing at what Law would guess were broken ribs from Vergo’s many haki-enhanced blows.

“I can see that,” Law replied wryly. “Don’t make me move you, too.”

Smoker glowered but didn’t argue.

As Vergo started charging back toward Law and Smoker, Law Shambled himself across the room, directly into Vergo’s path. He swung Kikoku, but Vergo dodged just in time. A large chunk of the wall behind Vergo came down with a loud clatter. Law swung his blade several more times to create smaller pieces of metal from the fallen wall.

Law turned on his heel and immediately jumped back toward Vergo, using Kikoku to block a flurry of blows. His arms shook under the strain of countering the strikes, but he gritted his teeth then powered forward, driving Vergo back.

Lifting a finger, Law used Takt to lift the metal pieces he’d created and hurled them toward Vergo. The vice admiral cursed and dodged the large sheets of metal, knocking those he couldn’t dodge away with his stick.

“What’s wrong, Vergo?” Law taunted as he ducked under the flying pieces of metal to approach his target. “Not so easy when your target isn’t shackled in Seastone?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Law.”

Law sent a large piece of metal Vergo had already knocked away back toward Vergo and ducked behind it; Law followed its path, so when Vergo knocked it out of his way again, he jolted in surprise as Law suddenly appeared. He swung his bamboo to push Law back, but Law ducked under Vergo’s outstretched arm, catching the man off-guard.

Law shoved his free hand forward into Vergo’s chest. Mes.

Vergo gasped as his heart was expelled backward. He slumped forward as Law summoned the heart into his hand.

“Bastard,” Vergo hissed.

To his credit, Vergo’s heartrate remained steady as he kneeled in front of Law. Even now, he wouldn’t let his successor rattle him.

“I have your life literally in my hand, Vergo­,” Law said, eyeing the heart. “I’d watch my tongue if I were you.”

“And what will you do with it, boy?” Vergo sneered, looking up. “Kill me?”

As Law felt the heart pulse steady in his hand, memories of Minion Island flashed in front of his mind’s eye.

Finding Vergo as he looked for help for the fallen Cora-san.

Vergo and Cora-san recognizing each other.

Vergo beating the wounded Cora-san, taunting him all the while.

Vergo beating Law, no sympathy for a dying child.

Vergo leaving them both, battered and bloody, in the snow to report to Doflamingo.

Law squeezed the heart, and Vergo writhed on the ground, pained groans coming through his clenched teeth.

Cora-san. Law released his grip on the heart. Vergo let out relieved gasps and slowly stilled.

“Corazon,” Smoker said slowly, as if afraid to spook Law. “He needs to face justice.”

Cora-san had always believed in justice. He hadn’t wanted to kill Doflamingo but bring him in. He wouldn’t want to kill Vergo either but instead, like Smoker, to bring him to justice.

Law wasn’t like them.

“Justice,” he scoffed bitterly, eyes never leaving the heart in his hand. “Where was justice when my little sister collapsed from Amber Lead Disease at seven years old and died as my parents’ clinic burned to the ground? Where was justice when soldiers destroyed my country then covered it up?” Law could hear his voice rising in his ears as he spoke, but he didn’t care. Years of pent-up rage flowed through his veins. “Where was justice when the man who saved me was murdered for it? Where was justice—”

He cut himself off at the sound of Vergo’s choking laughter, throat tightening as he realized what he’d just said.

“There’s no such thing as justice, Smoker-kun,” Vergo said between pained gasps. “There is only strength and weakness.” He turned his head to stare at Law. “And your precious Cora-san was weak, Law. Just like you.”

Fury rising in his chest, Law squeezed the heart again, Vergo’s screams a melody to his ears.

When Law let go of the heart once more, Vergo collapsed to the floor and panted. For years, Law had waited for the chance to avenge what Vergo had done to him and Cora-san that night; Vergo had haunted his nightmares, a looming figure of cruelty. But now, laid out on the ground and trying to hold onto his pride in his defeat, Law thought he looked pathetic.

And just like that, the fury drained out of him, leaving him feeling oddly hollow.

“So now what, Law?” Vergo asked between gasps for air. “You can’t kill me.”

Law raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“What do you think Doffy would do to you if you did? To your crew?”

Law barked a humorless laugh. “If he thinks I’m a traitor, we’re all dead anyway.” He narrowed his eyes. “Might as well take you with me.”

Vergo frowned. “You know how the Family deals with traitors.”

“I do,” Law agreed.

“He’ll never let you go,” Vergo said. “Not until he’s done with you. Wherever you go, he’ll find you.”

“I know.” That was why he’d return to Dressrosa once his business here was done. “Don’t worry, Vergo-san. I’ll file it away as a tragic accident at sea.”

He tightened his grip around Vergo’s heart, watching as the man writhed. He felt… nothing. Vergo coughed blood, but the satisfaction Law had expected to feel at the sight of Vergo dying at his hands was missing, sucked into the hollowness in his chest.

“Corazon, you don’t have to do this,” Smoker spoke up. “I can take him in.”

Law tightened his grip further. “You really think Doflamingo would let his favorite subordinate be locked up in Impel Down?”

“Even Warlords don’t have the power to stop something like that,” Smoker replied with a frown.

Law shook his head. “He has more connections than that, White Chase-ya.” If Vergo left Punk Hazard alive, Law and his crew were assured slow, agonizing deaths. If Law killed Vergo now, there was still a chance this could be salvaged.

Vergo huffed a strained laugh around his cries. “He’s. Right. Smoker-kun. You. Have. No idea. Who. You’re. Dealing with.”

Smoker looked between the two pirates and shook his head but said nothing. Law continued squeezing the heart, waiting to feel something after all this time.

“What’s wrong, Law?” Vergo panted. “Don’t have. The stones. To finish it?”

“Hardly.”

Law closed his fist completely, crushing the heart until Vergo let out a final bloody gasp then went limp.

Still feeling that odd emptiness, he opened his hand dropped the still heart next to the corpse.

“That was for Cora-san.”

Next chapter

[frogs-spawn]

it’s true lads, i have actually written something

(this was a prologue of a long canon fic that i’m writing/on hiatus on (oops) but i was thinking of changing the pov of it, so this doesn’t fit in it anymore) i may end up finishing the canon one, but it is long, so it probably won’t see the light of day, but we’ll see

anyway, here’s the ao3 link if you would like to read it on there: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31116254

a tragic twist of fate:

summary: the lupin family are enjoying a quiet evening, when an unwelcome visitor shows up, changing all of their lives forever.

word count: 1.6k

The sun was setting, casting a burning haze across the sea, and subsequently over the unsuspecting cul-de-sac in the Gower. The pebble-dashed bungalows that hugged the road were quaint and uniform, with a meagre patch of grass out the front that barely constituted as a garden. All things considered; it was a very normal street. There were the Jones', with their tiny Yorkshire terrier, which was small in size but easily compensated with its tremendous bark. The Thomas', who were always out the front regardless of the weather, observing the street's comings and goings. The Liu's, whose windows were constantly filled with an assortment of different lights, illuminating the street, making it feel like Christmas every day. Opposite them, were the Lupin's. There was Lyall, who has a mysterious job that no one is quite able to figure out exactly what it entails; his wife, Hope, who made sure that the whole street was well and truly fed; finally, their 5-year-old son, Remus, who's usually found playing out on the empty street.

Remus, as expected, was having a game of tag with Julia from across the road when his mother called out from the front door. She had thick blonde hair, slightly greying at the crown of her head, which was tied up into a loose bun, the fly-always whipping the side of her face, which was covered slightly with gravy.

"Remus, it's time to come in now. Your father has just gotten home, and dinner's almost ready."

"But Mammy! I'm not even tired," Remus pleaded, shouting back, a little breathless. "Can we have a few more minutes? Please?"

"It's okay, Mrs Lupin." Julia panted, brushing her dark fringe from out of her eyes, it was a miracle she could even see. She was a few years older than Remus but was still somehow shorter than the boy (who was only slightly tall for his age). "I think my parents want me back soon anyway." She turned to Remus and smiled, "We're going to go out and play again tomorrow, aren’t we Re?”

"Yeah, okay then. I'll see you tomorrow! Bye!" Remus chirped back, with some newfound energy. He then proceeded to hurtle up the driveway and stumble through the front door.

“Not even going to give your old mammy a cwtch?” Hope laughed, following her son through the door, shoving her hands into her pockets.

He clambered onto his chair at the kitchen table and watched eagerly as his mother took a roast lamb out of the oven and began to dish it out on to mismatched plates. There were roast potatoes, which were crispy on the outside, but still fluffy and buttery on the inside, peas, carrots, and parsnips - that were roasted to perfection, and it was all smothered with thick gravy that was laden with salt and had the potential to clog up your arteries – but if it’s bad for you then that meant it would probably delicious. Remus’ mouth was practically watering.

"Now, as you've been running around all afternoon, I'll give you the extra roastie, how about that?" Hope smiled down at Remus, scooping a roast potato onto the plate.

Lyall stooped into the kitchen at that moment, placing his tattered briefcase down onto the splintered wooden counter and bent over to kiss his wife on the head. He was tall and lanky with brown curly hair that was just starting to thin. He wore deep navy robes over the top of a well-fitted suit, looking as if he had just walked out of a very important meeting. He could have been a very intimidating man if it weren't for the way his eyes lit up and his mouth formed a crooked grin when he looked adoringly across his small family, with an immense sense of pride.

"This looks wonderful, darling. What did I ever do to deserve you?" he laughed as went over to his son and ruffled his hair. "According to Mrs Thomas, you've been charging up and down the road all day! No wonder you look knackered." He fell into the chair next to him, as Hope brought the dinner over.

The family ate with easy conversation. Hope explained how she had heard from Mrs Thomas that Mrs Jones was apparently putting empty wine bottles into her recycling bin and Lyall explained his new case at work, but it seemed boring, so Remus didn't pay it much attention. He wolfed his food down so quickly, barely stopping for a breath, his poor mother thought he might end up with indigestion.

"Stay in your own lane, Lyall, that's what they said," Lyall explained in between mouthfuls, gesturing at no one in particular with his fork. "They won't believe me though, and that Greyback has been released again, the man makes my skin crawl." He used air quotes when describing him and huffed, as he took another bite out of his roast. "It's madness, I told them that. Did they listen? No. Cases of lycanthropy are going up and it's because of creatures like them. String 'em all up for all I care. Bloody werewolves.”

"Not at the table Lyall," Hope piped in, sensing that her husband was about to go on another one of his world-renowned rants. "I understand it's a pain, especially if no one listens to you at work, but let's keep dinner time a happy affair, don't you think?"

"Yeah, no, sorry love" he gave her a sweet smile, which she returned. "Anyway. Did you have you had fun today, Re?"

The boy looked up and nodded quickly. "Yeah, me and Julia played lots of games. We had a race to see who was faster. And I won!" he exclaimed, talking at the speed of a hundred miles per hour, he spread his arms for dramatic effect and sat up higher in his chair. "She said I was cheating, but I wasn't, I promise!"

"No, of course, you weren't." Lyall laughed and looked down at his son like he was the most precious thing in the world.

After dinner, the family were positioned around the small-rickety fire pit that was positioned in the corner of the patio, made up of broken slabs of concrete with weeds emerging like great vines through the gaps. The fire crackled and spat, specks of charred wood and the burning flame releasing swirling smoke into the atmosphere. They sat on wobbly wooden chairs, that they had gotten from the charity shop, which were starting to rot and covered in splinters. However, Hope had made some colourful and slightly garish cushions, so it was incredibly comfortable, despite the small risk of the chairs collapsing from underneath them. Hope was sat with a pair of knitting needles in hand, focusing on the burgundy jumper that Remus would undoubtedly get for Christmas in a couple of months time. Remus sat opposite and was looking eagerly at his father, who was making the little old wooden figurines of soldiers that Hope collected do an Irish jig across the uneven stone.

Then, there was a rustling in the undergrowth at the far end of the garden. The birds that had nested and settled in for the evening took flight, flying off into the rising moon, bright and beautiful.

"What on earth could that be?" Hope wondered out loud, staring out into the distance, squinting her eyes.

'I'll go check it out.” Lyall chuckled as he pushed himself out of the chair. "Probably just a fox, I shall go shoo it away."

He wandered to the end of the garden, managing to avoid the snail hotel Remus had built a year ago. He lit up his wand so that he could see at least three steps ahead of himself.

It was a surprise that it remained standing, despite the howling gales and torrential rain it had to endure, it stayed. For as long as he could remember, Remus looked after the snails in the hotel, gave them any leftover lettuce. They were his favourite magical creatures. It fascinated him, the way they could stick to the walls and go upside down, the only way that was possible, Remus decided, was magic. Lyall didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise.

"Ah, Lyall Lupin. Just the man I wanted to see." An unfamiliar voice snarled. The voice was deep and ragged as if it had been strained from screaming too loud "Fancy seeing you here."

“Fenrir.” Lyall cut back, voice curt but contained a small tremble. "Leave me and my family alone and take your unpleasant business somewhere else." He straightened his jacket and stood rigidly, making himself taller. But the figure, Fenrir, stood a head above him, despite his hunched posture.

"I don't think that would be necessary." He countered, his voice becoming more and more menacing. "How is your family? I'd love to meet them." He shoved Lyall out of the way, causing him to lose balance and he stumbled into the hedge.

“Hope! Remus! Get into the house and lock the door!” Lyall shouted, desperately, unable to keep up with Greyback, who was striding across the garden.

Hope quickly grabbed her things and ran, pushing open the back door with a creak.

“Remus, come on lamb, into the house.” Hope coaxed from the door, trying to sound as calm as possible.

But Remus stayed rooted to the spot, unmoving, fixed and waiting, staring into the monster before him.

Fenrir Greyback was a giant of a man, towering easily over 6 feet tall. He was unkempt and greasy, covered in black matted hair. His deceitful yellowing eyes emitting nothing venom. Remus scrambled off of the chair and edged slowly towards his mother. It was too late.

Their eyes locked. A deal had been struck.

Under the silver moon, Greyback's manic grin turned pointed and wider. Bones cracked, twisted, and popped. Hair became thicker, wired, and coarse. Tortured hands and feet transformed into gnarly claws. His previously crooked nose became a leathery, wet, snout.

Barring his teeth, Fenrir Greyback took a couple of paces forward, crushing the hotel under a monstrous paw, towards a terrified Remus Lupin.

And pounced.

[sherlockfanficwriting]

Sherlock “Tragically Taken”      (x reader)

Summary - Being Sherlock’s sister has gotten you a lot of attention, but not all of it is good. Jim Moriarty was always obsessed with you, but one day he takes it too far. How do you get yourself out of his grasp? Will Sherlock be there for you? 

Warnings - Angst, violence

A/N - hello guys sorry I have been slow but I have been busy, truly. I loved writing this because as you know angst is my specialty. I am still doing your requests and I am trying to get some ideas of my own. Send me some more and be patient I know I am a snail...but enjoy the story of these wonderful men and the sister. You guys like the idea of a more humane sister and I do too, if you wanna see more request some! :) @fanfictionsilove​ @bakerstreethound​ @redheaded-hobbit​ @theartisticscientistsworld​ @dancezwithwolvez​ I forgot my tag list hehe

“Sherlock, I know!” You said to your brother, running ahead of him. 

“No, (Y/N), really!” Sherlock sped up to you. You were walking with him on the bustling London streets after getting finished with a case. 

Sherlock grabbed your shoulder and spun you around. “I-I’m sorry.” You laughed at him, causing him to look confused. 

“I’m not mad at you for losing my watch, christ. You are way too gullible.” You loved playing with Sherlock. Quite often, being torn between loving him one minute and hating him the next, you were confused by the ambivalence of your feelings. Playing with him was one way to balance it out. 

“You’re crazy, you know that?” Sherlock said as you continued walking on with a huge smile on your face. He knew that your smile often had ambiguous meanings. 

“Okay, so where are we going?” Sherlock asked. 

“Scotland yard first. Greg wants to meet us.” 

“Just making sure you remembered,” he said, standing over the curb, waving his hands for a taxi. One came speeding by and you hopped in it, pushing your brother over, causing him to lightly punch you. Ever since you were young kids you were always fighting with each other.

“Scotland Yard.” Sherlock told the driver as he zoomed away. You looked out the window at all the shops and buildings, examining all the people - one of the spectacular traits you had with your brother, although you argued you were far more intelligent. You were also more human than your brother. You had loved someone before and quite frankly, you act like a normal human. You also felt emotions - something that you valued a lot. 

“What do you think he’s going to tell us?” You asked Sherlock. 

“Something serious, probably.” 

The taxi slowed down to a halt in front of Scotland Yard and you left first, leaving Sherlock to pay. 

“Really? Third time this week!” He said, getting out of the car. 

“Be a gentleman,” you said, laughing with him. You walked inside with Sherlock. Noticing Anderson near a front desk, you approached him. Leaving him no time to greet you, you asked him, “Where’s Lestrade?” 

“Down that hall. Third door to the right. (Y/N), I didn-.” 

“Great, thanks!” Sherlock said, carrying your arm with him, almost tripping you. His legs were twice as long as yours.  You turned around and waved at Anderson, winking at him, which caused him to blush. You didn’t like Anderson but you were always polite and willing to talk if he wanted, unlike Sherlock who was always like this. Also, you knew that everyone adored you...you weren't sure why, but it was probably the likable personality. You walked down the hall and into Lestrade’s room without knocking. He was scribbling down something on a paper. 

He looked up at the two of you and stood up. “About time!” 

“What happened?” 

“He’s back.” He opened a drawer and pulled out about three papers with pictures on them. “There he is.” 

You bent over to see them and you saw him. Moriarty. He was walking around somewhere, god knows doing what.

“He’s going to do something.” Lestrade said. 

“It’s not going to be good.” Sherlock added. 

You looked at them. Sherlock was worried and so was Lestrade. It was obvious. You tried to stay calm. You heard of the crimes this man committed, but you never studied his cases much or interacted with him, like Sherlock did. 

“Do you have security around?” Sherlock asked. 

Lestrade nodded. “They’re everywhere, but you wouldn’t know. We can’t risk this man bombing a building or a mass shooting somewhere. I wouldn’t be surprised. He could do anything.” 

“Have any clue where he is?” 

Lestrade shook his head. “That’s where you help us.” He picked up the papers with Moriarty on them and handed them to Sherlock. “I know where he is, we have people there right now.” 

Sherlock examined the pictures and said, “We’ll go. Right now.” He walked out of the door and Lestrade followed. He turned around to look at you and asked, “(Y/N), we could use you. Aren’t you coming?” 

You gave him a smile but shook your head. “Not now. I’ll probably stop by soon. I have to do something.”

He smiled at you and jogged out of the room to catch up to Sherlock. You began walking out the other direction for an exit. You weren’t in the mood at all to go with them. You didn’t know why, but you just were. You needed a break - something like that. Time to think. Plus, you were scared of Moriarty. It was almost as if he was everywhere.

He doesn’t even know me

You shook off your paranoia and held your head high, the feeling of fear slowly abating from you as you walked. For a few mere minutes, you walked along blank hallways of Scotland Yard. You had no idea where you were. The closed white doors looked the same as well as the floors. You walked to a near door and stood on your tiptoes, trying to peer inside. You couldn’t see anything, so you opened the door. You stepped inside to pure blackness of a desolate room. The door shut behind you, leaving you alone. You were curious where you were and ran your hands along the wall, searching for a light. You groaned and tried to look for the door. You felt it, but something was odd. 

No handle

You tried pushing the door, but it didn’t budge. You took a few steps behind, when suddenly someone wrapped their arm around your waist forcefully, dragging you back. You screamed, but they pressed their hand over your mouth, obscuring the sound. You were panicking. Who did this? You couldn’t see anything, which made the matter even worse. You tried kicking whoever this was and succeeded, but then they squeezed the skin on your abdomen, hard, causing you pain. You felt them walk backward, but you didn’t feel the floor. Your legs were barely touching it. All of a sudden you felt your body slowing down. Your thoughts processed at the rate of a normal human. Your energy drained as your body slumped in their grasp. 

----------------

You quickly opened your eyes and darted up from the ground. You looked around the room you were in, examining each and every part of it. 

Scotland Yard

You were still here, just in a different room. You tried to get up but noticed your legs were tied together tightly as where your wrists. You felt minimal pain in your stomach and suddenly remembered what happened before. It was quite clear you were kidnapped and you knew it would be hard to get yourself out of this. 

“Hello!” You cried out. You heard footsteps approaching nearby and suddenly the door in front of you swung open. There he was. Moriarty. You didn’t know you could feel this scared, until now. Fear pumped through your body, but you made sure not to show it. He walked up to you with a wide smile and crouched down to you. 

“How did you sleep?” He asked. 

You looked at him, puzzled. “Why am I here? Why did you do this to me?” 

He pursed his lips. “Because I can.” He placed his hand around your chin, pulling it up to him and then he ran his fingers through your hair. You let him. You didn’t have a choice, but you didn’t want to be on his bad side. He grabbed your neck and pressed his lips against yours hard. You didn’t do anything. You just let him. 

“You are so pretty.” 

“Thank you.” You said blankly, showing no emotion. 

“I’m surprised you’re related to Sherlock.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“You’re different. I know it. I’ve seen it. You’re an anomaly among your siblings. You can feel all the emotions. He has yet to prove to me he feels them. You possess an everlasting intelligence that others would die for.” 

“I guess I do.” 

“Since you’re related, you know about Sherlock. You know everything.” 

“A-about what?” 

He walked up to you and lost the smile from his face. “Everything. You’re going to tell me where he is right now first.” 

You thought for a moment. “Where you were seen earlier. It was by an alley.” 

“You’re not lying?” 

“I’m not,” you said candidly. 

“What does he know about me?” 

“I don’t know. That you’re dangerous?” 

He laughed madly. “Oh really? That’s it?” Suddenly he kicked your leg, causing you to wince in agony. “You’re bad at lying.” 

“I-I’m not.” You said. He kicked you again, this time in your stomach. You were sure he broke a rib along with a bruise. You were helpless. 

“If I knew something, I would tell you. I’m serious.” 

“What crimes did your other brother have to save him from?” 

Crimes?

You didn’t know all of them. Which were they? He forcefully tilted your head to face him. 

“Answer me.” 

“He shot someone. I don’t know who.” 

Moriarty slapped your face and wrapped his hands around your neck. You felt tears escape from your eyes. You didn’t want him to hurt you. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to die. His grip tightened on your neck. 

“You’re useless. You’re lying.” He squeezed your neck tighter, constricting any air you took in. You looked into his eyes. They were fierce, full of danger. He released his hands, causing you to slump to the floor. 

“Useless.” 

You prayed Sherlock was coming to get you. Someone. You didn’t know the time and hours could have passed since you last talked to them. They had to have known something happened. 

---------------

“I know, something happened” Sherlock screamed at Lestrade. He closed his eyes, trying to think fast. 

“She was last at Scotland Yard. She had to do something somewhere and said she was coming soon.”

“Hours have passed! She says that when she doesn’t want to come.” 

Lestrade scratched his head. “We can go check.”

“Something happened. She wasn’t mad. Someone bad. Dangerous. Call Anderson, have him look at cameras everywhere. Now.”

----------------

Moriarty paced around the door, pondering about something. You eased yourself back up. The pain wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t pleasant. You could endure it. 

“Is Sherlock inspired by me?”

The question caught you off guard. Inspired? Is this guy a joke? What answer did he want to hear or was this a trick question? 

“In some ways.” 

He directed his gaze over to you. “How?” 

“You’re relatively discreet and don’t let anyone stop you.” At this point you were making things up. You only knew he was a bad person, but you didn’t know the specifics. Just by spending however long it was with him, you knew nobody stopped him or got in his way. 

“Is he coming for you?” 

“He doesn’t know where I am.” 

He walked over to you, causing your body to shake from fear. “Answer my question.” 

“Yes.” 

Moriarty strained his neck left and right. “Well in that case, we wait.” He placed his hand in his pocket. “This is going to be good.” He pulled out a gun. Your heart dropped. You couldn’t be this dumb to think he wouldn’t carry one. 

“I suppose I’ll untie you. I’m sure you want to die feeling free.” He pulled out a small knife and cut the wires over your body. It didn’t feel much relieving to you knowing that you might die at any time. You didn’t budge.

“How much do you value your life?” 

“A lot.” It was true. You loved your life. You didn’t deserve this.

“That’s too bad.” He walked up to you, pulling your chin up to face him. “Too bad such a beauty has to die.” 

All of a sudden you heard fast footsteps accompanied by the door bolted open. Your heart raised. You saw Sherlock, Lestrade, and three other men standing there. Moriarty’s facial expression didn’t change. The gun was still pointed ever so slightly at you. Sherlock looked worried, sad, and angry. It killed you to see him like this, but you knew it killed him too. 

“Moriarty, you don’t have to do this.”

“That’s funny, but I do.” 

“No - stop! You don’t. What do you need?” 

“Her.” 

Moriarty moved his hand near the trigger but all of a sudden opened his mouth to pull it. Sherlock eased back as did the others, but at the last moment he swung it over to you, shooting you. The shot was followed by another. You didn’t believe it. You were actually shot. Was this really happening to you?

“(Y/N)!” Sherlock cried, rushing over to you. You looked at your stomach. Blood formed a large circle through your white blouse. You looked up at Sherlock, who wrapped his arm around your back and placed a firm hand on your stomach. You felt the pain from the bullet immensely as it tore through your skin. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You’re going to be fine okay?” He hugged you and squeezed your hand. 

“I’m not. This is it for me.” His face dropped when you said this. 

“Don’t say that. It’s not. You’re just feeling pain. This was all my fault.” You didn’t know how you knew you were going to die, but you just knew it. It was an unusual feeling, the blood pouring from your stomach quickly. The energy draining from you. 

“Don’t blame yourself. This had nothing to do with you. Tell Mycroft too.” 

“No. This wasn’t your fault. I love you. I love you so much. You can’t leave me.” His voice quivered. You stared into his eyes, now pouring tears. 

“I love you too. I had an exciting life with you. So many memories.” Your eyelids felt heavy and it was getting difficult to talk. You closed them.

“Just hold on a little longer.” Sherlock turned around to face Lestrade who mouthed something to him. Something bad. 

“I love you.” 

Your eyelids were completely relaxed now. You felt Sherlock trying to shake you. Your thoughts processed slower. You felt the process start. Your heart slowed down. Your movements slowed. You heard Sherlock crying for you. He wrapped his arm around you tighter. He screamed for you, trying to wake you up. 

Those were the last things you heard, following with the inhuman agonizing cry of a man who just lost someone that meant the world to him. He vowed himself to protect you, but his actions proved useless. 

[stahlop]

Once Upon a Time 1x19 “The Return” Review

Reviews 1x01 1x02 1x03 1x04 1x05 1x06 1x07 1x08 1x09 1x10 1x11 1x12 1x13 1x14 1x15 1x16 1x17 1x18

So I’ll admit, the first time this aired I totally bought into August being Baelfire. I mean, despite August asking if they even look alike, yes, they do look like they could be the same person (except that August has blue eyes and Bae doesn’t). Shout out to Robert Carlyle for actually making me cry every single time I watch this because his speech to August is just heartbreaking. It’s even worse when you know August isn’t Bae. Also, because I forgot it last week, Cora’s name means maiden, but can also be derived from the Spanish word corazon which means heart.

Summary: Bae tries to find a way for he and his father to be together without him being the Dark One. Gold grows suspicious of August and what he is doing in town after he catches him in his office. Regina realizes that Gold set her up when Kathryn returns.

Opening: August riding his motorcycle (this is the first time we’ve seen a Storybrooke character in the opener).

Character Observations:

Rumplestiltskin/Gold:

This is Rumplestiltskin soon after he changed originally. He still sounds a little bit like coward Rumplestiltskin, but with just a hint of joking/giddy Rumplestiltskin. He is still doing everything in the name of his son. We are seeing that even though he is the Dark One, he still has his humanity. He still has something worth keeping his humanity for. Even if it that means he turns someone into a snail and crushes him for accidentally hurting Bae’s leg. Bae, of course, just wants his papa. He doesn’t want this demon masquerading as his father. Rumplestiltskin says he wants more power to protect Bae. Bae counters with if he didn’t have power he wouldn’t need to protect him. Rumplestiltskin explains that he can’t get rid of the power. Bae wonders if he’s tried. Rumplestiltskin shows him the dagger and explains how the only way to get rid of it would be for someone else to kill him and take the power for themselves, just like he did. But he does say he’ll look for other ways to appease Bae. Bae pushes and asks if he could get rid of the power without harm to either of them would he do it. Rumplestiltskin says it’s not possible. He wants to know why Bae isn’t happy with the fact that he can conjure up anything his heart desires. All Bae wants is his father. All Rumplestiltskin wants is Bae’s happiness. He says he will do it if Bae finds a way to rid him of the darkness.  They shake on it. We next see Rumple go off to do some business, which it turns out is killing their mute maid. We see a little of the Rumplestiltskin that we’ve seen in the future when he quips about the maid being able to draw a picture of the dagger. Rumplestiltskin is spinning. He is just spinning plain wool so he hasn’t figured out the spinning into gold yet. Bae says he has found a way to take them to a place without magic. Rumplestiltskin is scared. He says he’ll be powerless and weak. Bae says he’ll be just like everyone else and they’d be happy. Bae reminds him of their deal. Bae takes him into the woods and shows him the bean. It turns into a portal when he throws it. Rumplestiltskin is freaking the eff out. Bae falls in and Rumplestiltskin tries to pull him out. He can’t go through with it and he doesn’t want Bae to go either. Bae calls him a coward and says he’s breaking their deal. Bae falls through. Rumplestiltskin realizes that Bae is gone and starts digging in the spot the portal just was to try to be with him. Too late buddy, you missed your chance. This is probably the most human we’ve seen Rumplestiltskin as the Dark One. He’s been pretty callous about everything and doing things in the name of Bae’s happiness, but the real human emotion comes out when he realizes that everything he’s been doing for his son has now been lost and his own cowardice and weakness is what will make his son unhappy. Rumplestiltskin calls on the Blue Fairy. He wants to know how to get to Bae. She tells him he missed his chance, that was the last bean. He accuses her of lying and lying about lying. He lists off other ways he could possibly travel. Blue shoots them all down except for curse. She warns Rumplestiltskin that it is too high a price to pay and he doesn’t have the ability. He says he has all the time in the world to figure out the curse and how to find his son. He tries to attack the Blue Fairy when she tells him he drove his son away. So now we know now how Rumplestiltskin essentially lost his humanity and let the darkness take over. He was too scared to lose his power and lost his son because of it.

Which makes the whole Gold plot line in this episode even sadder. We first see him in his shop helping Henry pick out a gift for Mary Margaret now that she’s been cleared of murder charges. He catches August snooping in the back and becomes suspicious. Next Gold and Regina are talking and Regina mentions that Gold broke their deal. He mentions that he's only ever broken one deal in his life and this was not it. Regina says Kathryn was supposed to be murdered and Mary Margaret get the blame. Gold says murder seems so much worse in this world. You can’t just turn them into a snail and step on them (which we see him do later in a flashback). Gold clarifies that she said something tragic was to happen to her and kidnapping is tragic. Regina counters that the intent was clear. They continue to argue about intent until Gold says please to shut her up. Regina realizes that Gold is setting her up to take the fall. She doesn’t understand because they’ve been in  this from the beginning. He created the curse for her (nope, he created the curse for him, you were just a pawn). Gold tells her to figure it out. Gold goes to Mary Margaret’s welcome home party, which I thought was weird, but then I remembered that he was her lawyer. But he’s basically just skulking in the background. Gold asks Emma if it’s hard to let Henry go back to Regina. She says it’s the hardest things she’s had to do. You can see Gold sympathizing. Emma non-sequiturs into asking him if he was behind Kathryn’s kidnapping due to his ‘working some magic’ quip. He wants to know if she thinks he’s working for or against Regina. Emma isn’t sure. Then he asks about August. He doesn’t believe that’s his real name and he was poking around his shop. Emma says she trusts him more than she trusts Gold. Well who does trust Gold? He breaks into August’s room at Granny’s and finds a drawing of the dagger. Gold follows August to the nunnery. He talks to Mother Superior, who has either been told by August to tell Gold his story, or is breaking some kind of breach of confidence by telling Gold August’s story of him finding his father but is too ashamed to reach out to him. Gold was not expecting that August is possibly Bae coming to find him. Gold goes to speak to Dr. Hopper. Tells him an abbreviated history of him and Bae. Thinks that August might be Bae, but also thinks he might be seeing what he wants to see. He isn’t sure that August might not be there to kill him. Dr. Hopper says to just be honest; Gold doesn’t do honesty well. Gold finds August at his cabin and he calls him Papa. Gold apologizes and wants forgiveness. They hug and Gold finally seems to have found peace. They go and dig up the dagger and Gold gives it to August for safe keeping. This whole scene is so heartbreaking once you know that August isn’t Bae. We finally see the human side of Gold and it was toward the wrong person. August immediately tries to use the dagger on Gold, who then realizes that August isn’t Bae. That he would know the dagger wouldn’t work here because Bae came here to get away from magic. Gold takes the dagger back and wants to know how August knows about it. He says he’s heard things. Gold says no one here knows and August says no one here remembers. August says he’s dying and needed magic. He doesn’t think Emma will believe in time. Gold tells him to keep trying, maybe Gold will get something out of it. I loved seeing this vulnerable side of Gold, even if it ended up being with the wrong person.

Bae: He wants his papa to not be the Dark One anymore. He doesn’t like what its made him become. And the fact that Rumplestiltskin is justifying everything he does because he wants to protect Bae makes him feel even worse. He witnesses his father turn someone into a snail and squash him because Bae wasn’t watching where he was going. His father also kills the mute maid because she possibly heard them talking about the Dark One Dagger and what it can do. No one wants to play with Bae because of who his father is. Bae is miserable. Is it any wonder when Morraine tells him about Reul Ghorm that he jumps at the chance to find her? So Bae gets Rumplestiltskin to make a deal with him that if he does find a way to remove his power without either of them getting hurt he’ll do it. Rumplestiltskin reluctantly agrees because he doesn’t believe there is any way Bae will find this way. He does so rather quickly though. Reul Ghorm, or the Blue Fairy, has a magic bean, the last magic bean, that she gives to Bae. It will take them to a land without magic. Bae jumps at the chance. Bae tells his papa that he’s found a way, a bean to take them to the land without magic. Rumplestiltskin doesn’t want to be powerless and weak again. Bae reminds him he’ll be just like everyone else. He also reminds him of their deal. Bae opens the portal. Rumplestiltskin is too scared to go through. Bae calls him a coward and goes through without his papa. Bae is definitely the braver of the two and he doesn’t have any powers. Hopefully, we’ll get to actually meet a grown-up Bae.

August: He pissed me off in this episode. We still don’t know what’s going on with his leg. I had suspicions when I initially watched this series, but this episode showed me that we can’t always trust where the writers may take us.  He wakes up with leg pain. He is falling all over his room. He makes a phone call (on a rotary phone) to someone saying they need to accelerate the plan. I’m assuming he’s talking to Henry because he’s with him in the next scene. Henry isn’t sure how sneaking into Gold’s shop will help Emma believe, but he goes along with it. Henry distracts Gold in the front while August checks out the back room. Gold catches him, because August isn’t stealthy in the least. August tries to play it off that he thought the door was a back entrance, but Gold isn’t buying it in the least. August is speaking to Mother Superior (Blue Fairy). We don’t know what they are talking about, but Blue tells Gold. Gold later finds August at his cabin and says he knows who he is. August calls him Papa. And this is where I really start to dislike August. Because, as he says later, he wanted to Gold to work for the reunion and not trust his own eyes. You can definitely see that August does have some compunction about the ploy he’s got going with Gold when Gold apologizes and asks for forgiveness. Gold gives him the dagger to destroy it because he knows that’s what Bae would want to do with it. August is in shock that it was this easy to get the dagger from him. Then he shows his hand and tries to control Gold with it. That tips off Gold because he knows Bae would never use the dagger against him and would know there is no magic here for the dagger to work. August also lets Gold know that no one here remembers the dagger, letting Gold know that August is really from the EF. August says he’s sick and dying and needs magic and he didn’t think he’d live long enough for Emma to start to believe and break the curse. Gold wants him to keep trying.  August is shocked that Gold let him live. He was definitely expecting to be dead after his confrontation with Gold.

Sydney: I would feel sorry for him if he hadn’t brought on his obsession with Regina himself. Unfortunately, his obsession has carried over in the curse which means he is now taking the blame for Kathryn’s abduction, tampering with evidence, and planting evidence in Emma and Mary Margaret’s apartment. Says he did it for the story and that he would be the hero and get his job back with this huge scoop. Plus get a book and movie deal out of the whole thing. His face shows conflict over the confession, especially when Regina keeps telling him to add things. He’s like a child who has been taught the correct things to stay

Emma: She is mainly working on figuring out what happened to Kathryn. She tells Emma that she remembers the car accident and that she woke up in a basement and was drugged. Then she randomly woke up in a field and walked until she got to town and was found. Kathryn doesn’t understand why people thought she was dead. Emma explains about the heart and the obviously tampered DNA. At the welcome home party for Mary Margaret, Emma says she has a lot of friends. Mary Margaret comments that it didn’t feel like that yesterday. Emma goes to take Henry home and David is at the door. Mary Margaret doesn’t want to see him. Emma gets him to take Henry home. Emma accuses Gold of kidnapping Kathryn based on his magic comment. Gold wants to know if he’s supposed to be working with or against Regina. Emma says possibly diagonally. Emma talks to Sidney and shows him the bug. He pretends he doesn’t know anything about it. He continues to defend Regina; Emma realizes he’s in love with Regina. Later on, Regina brings in Sidney to confess to Emma that he’s behind everything with Kathryn. Emma talks to Regina and basically accuses her of making Sidney confess to something he didn’t do to cover for her. Emma understands that Regina runs the game, but she’s going to start playing a different game (finally!). She will not let Regina talk and tells her that because Regina tried to take away someone she loved (Mary Margaret), she’s going to take away someone Regina loves, Henry. While I’m glad Emma is finally starting to fight back, I don’t like the way she worded this. I know Emma loves Henry, but fighting for custody of him should be because she feels she is capable of caring for him, not because Regina tried to frame Mary Margaret for murder.

Blue Fairy/Mother Superior: I feel like we aren’t getting the whole story here. The Blue Fairy aka Reul Ghorm aka Blue Star, is supposed to be the oldest magic, even older than the Dark One. So why can’t she defeat him? Why does she covertly try to subvert his power by giving Bae a magic bean to send him to a land without magic. And, if this wasn’t the intent, if she just merely wanted to help out Bae, why would she give up the last bean to him? I feel like the Blue Fairy is not entirely truthful. The Blue Fairy says that Bae is the part of Rumplestiltskin that keeps him human. Later on, when Rumplestiltskin calls her to find Bae, she tells him that he drove Bae away when he accuses her of taking his son. He also says she’s lying about the bean and lying about lying. There does seem to be something off about her.

As Mother Superior, she is either working with August to bring Gold to him, or she’s betraying August’s confidence by telling Gold everything. I’m going to go with August wanting her to tell Gold what was going on so he would think August was Bae. As Mother Superior she just always seems very angry. I’ve yet to see her in a good mood.

Regina: She realizes that Gold is trying to pin Kathryn’s kidnapping and the framing of Mary Margaret on her. She doesn’t understand why because she and Gold have been in this (the curse) from the very beginning. She obviously does not know about Bae and his ulterior motives. Regina gets Sidney to take the fall for everything. Emma is pissed beyond all hell that she did that to Sidney. Regina now needs to ready herself for Emma trying to take Henry away from her.

David: He’s conflicted because his wife is back, but he wants to be with Mary Margaret, who doesn’t want to be with him. He apologizes for everything with Kathryn, but she says it was okay because neither of them were ‘it’ for each other. He tries to see Mary Margaret at her welcome home party, but she’s still pissed at him for not believing in her.

Questions:

Why do Rumplestiltskin and Bae live so simply still? Rumplestiltskin says he can conjure anything, why hasn’t he conjured them a nicer house?

Why is August at Mary Margaret’s welcome home party? Did Emma invite him? Has Mary Margaret even met him?

Where did August get such a detailed drawing of the Dark One Dagger? It couldn’t be from the book because Henry said Gold wasn’t in there.

Was that really the last portal bean? What happened to the rest of them? The Blue Fairy said they were lost to them.

Why would the Blue Fairy give away the last magic bean to a young boy? Or was it because his father was the Dark One and she wanted to get rid of the threat?

Emma is transported to our world by a magic tree. Did Blue not know about that then with Rumplestiltskin, or was she simply refusing him access to the land without magic to teach him a lesson?

We know from 1x02, The Thing You Love Most, that Rumplestiltskin created the curse. But he obviously didn’t have anything he loved the most to sacrifice (he thought Belle was dead at that point). So did he use Regina, fuel her hatred, just to get her to enact his curse for him? We still haven’t seen how she went from sweet, young Regina to magic wielding, Evil Queen. Did Rumplestiltskin help her achieve all that?

Why is Rumplestiltskin so sure that Bae is still alive in current day? Has he had a vision?

Observations:

The ball Gold has in his hands when talking with Henry in the shop is the same ball Bae is playing with when we first see him.

Rumplestiltskin created a truce in the Ogres-war, stopped the war, and brought the children home.

Morraine is the same girl that was taken away from the village in Desperate Souls.

Henry gets Mary Margaret a bell for getting out of jail.

Everyone asking if Gold was there for the rent was hilarious.

The different ways Rumplestiltskin names to get to the land without magic are: realm jumper (possibly what Jefferson is), time-turner, mage, and curse.

I guess we now know why Gold hates the nuns so much. He blames them (as fairies) for Bae leaving him.

It seems everything that Rumplestiltskin does from this point on is to help him get to the land without magic to find Bae.

Another great episode! We still don’t know who August is, but for those who haven’t seen it yet, I’m sure you have some good guesses. August and Gold’s confrontation was some great work from both actors. Emma is finally going after Regina by trying to take Henry away. I’d think at this point that Emma would have more people on her side than Regina would, but we don’t know who else Regina has influence over. Also, I’d think Emma would need her own place before petitioning for custody because there is absolutely no privacy for Henry at the loft. But I guess we’ll see in the next few episodes. Season 1 is almost over!!!

Please leave comments and reblog! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future reviews.

@searchingwardrobes @thisonesatellite @justbecauseyoubelievesomething @laschatzi @profdanglaisstuff @mariakov81

[starrywriting]

touch

☞ bucky barnes

summary: after feeling the heart-wrenching pain of your lovers lips on someone else’s, you turn to icy blue eyes to soothe the ache that throbbed your body and pounded in your head.

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, cheating, female pronouns (if you want specific pronouns, make sure to specify when you request!^^)

an: hi, im back with a full story  and finally writing smut. (i havent exactly proofed read this, so bare with me)

words: 9.5k+ (i know, right?:0)

The ground was littered with the remnants of your overnight bag. A change of clothes, a travel sized perfume. The toothbrush you were meant to switch out last week because the bristles were old, and flared out. The contents dotted your hardwood floor as the ambient white-noise of Bucky’s forgotten music rang in your ears as a reminder to not let your tears completely wash over you.

You were sitting on the bed, nose red, and hands shaking. You were staring down at your open palms, a sort of distaste flowing through your taste-buds and sullying your once fresh mouth. You felt like vomiting. Nausea was knocking at your door; banging for you to open it and open your mouth to relieve the pressure that sat in your stomach in the form of today’s simple breakfast of cereal.

To say you felt disgusting was an understatement. You felt absolutely revolting. Your eyelids were scorched with the imprint of walking in on your boyfriend with another. Your ears were keening with the fragments of hearing their moans and groans intertwine in a sick melody of sinful lovers. You had given him everything. You had entrusted him to care for not only you, but your soul as well, but here you were… sitting on your bed, regretting ever laying your eyes on him. Here you were, feeling the ghosts of his fingertips dot your skin in a painful dance of pure repugnance. You hated him, and you hated yourself for allowing yourself to think you could ever truly love someone and earn their love in return.

You fell back against the bed, your eyes sticky and your cheeks pink. Your chest was heaving with gulps of air, but nothing seemed to soothe the fire burning inside your bones. Oxygen only seemed to power the flame to burn faster, hurt you longer. It was licking at your insides, and disintegrating what little bit of yourself you had left.

As if on cue, your sobs began again, and the door to your shared apartment with Bucky, clicked with the sound of the lock being undone with the push of the key into the keyhole, and the turn of a wrist to unlock the door.

Bucky was panting, gym bag in hand as he stepped into the apartment. His brows were knitted together when he heard the music still playing. He could’ve sworn he had turned it off, but then again, could he ever truly trust his mind again after everything he had gone through?  His gym bag fell to the floor with a gentle thud, his protein powder hitting against his water bottle inside his bag. Small collateral damage. To say he was exhausted, was an understatement, and to walk into your shared apartment to find it empty, disappointed him.

His entire reasoning for moving from the teams' headquarters and into a two bedroom, two bathroom apartment with you, was so that he no longer had to spend time alone. Since the day he walked into the compound, there was no denying the sort of… string that was pulled taut between the both of you. Day after day, week after week, that string grew shorter and tugged you both closer the harder it tugged. Months passed, and here he was, missing your presence.

He hated to see you go, more so if he knew you were leaving to spend time with your boyfriend. Bucky wasn’t the jealous type, and while he knew you were truly, nothing of his, he couldn’t help but feel a protective wrench at his insides. He constantly wanted to have you close, and keep you from harm's way. He had gone through so much; too much even. The last thing he wanted was for your eyes, ever so full of life and bright, to dull into nothing but glazed over iris’s that hated the world.

Bucky knew better than to indulge in the thoughts in his head. At times, he found himself staring down at your lips as you talked. He held a curiosity about intimacy, but it was only ever sparked around you. It was like a gentle voice that attempted to coarse him into telling you his deepest thoughts, and darkest emotions.. and as time passed, he felt himself, too, wanting to open up to you… but then you announced your relationship, and Bucky found himself alone, staring up at the ceiling of his room, wishing he could look over, and be looking into your sleep-induced features. It was truly tragical. A tale painted, from the start, with hues of blues and blacks. Destined for darkness and sorrow. Somber; and starved from the light in the world. Unrequited love.

When Bucky made moves to enter the apartment, he immediately grabbed the hair tie from his wrist and used it to tie his hair up in a loose, two looped, bun. His shoulders visibly slumped, and he let the familiarity of the scent in the apartment, and the ambient feel of it all, soak into his pores deliciously slow. Every day, he left the apartment at eight in the morning to train with Steve for two hours. Every day, he jogged to and from the compound, no matter how tired he was. In the past, you joined him during those training. Begrudgingly, but you’d join nonetheless. You would eat your breakfast of some fruit, and cereal, while he chugged down his chocolate protein shake and a banana, then you’d both jog to the compound as a warm-up—but then you met your boyfriend, and Bucky found himself drinking his protein shakes alone and jogging alone. He found himself making excuses up on the spot when Steve asked why you were absent, even though you didn’t ask him specifically to cover for you… and he found himself collectively getting more and… more envious maybe? Annoyed possibly? He found himself growing more and more bothered by having to watch you leave for a date, rather than train for the team; he never brought himself to say anything, however, and he just opted to be a friend.

Bucky instead, helped you out when you asked what dress you should wear to a date, or what you should say when your boyfriend was upset with you. He comforted you whenever your boyfriend would send you home, upset and puzzled with emotions.

Bucky made a silent vow to always put you back together, every time you came back from your boyfriends’ place, a jumble of pent-up emotions and frustrations.

Deep down, Bucky was certain your boyfriend didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve to hold your hand or kiss your cherry lips. He didn’t deserve to look into your eyes and see the stars align inside your iris’s. He knew your boyfriend didn’t deserve to hold you, he didn’t deserve to hear the three simple words, that if you told Bucky, would make his world collide against cosmos and he would see the stars. Your boyfriend didn’t deserve you, and when Bucky began growing the courage to confront you and tell you just that, that you shouldn’t settle, he found himself questioning if he, himself, deserved you, because if he didn’t, what was the point of speaking up?  Most of the time, the answer was no, Bucky didn’t deserve you, and that alone was enough to shut him up, and watch from afar as you loved someone he was certain, didn’t love you back.

Bucky felt his skin prickle in surprise when he walked down the hall, past your room, and he caught sight of your plaid dress, and curled up legs that were clad in the same black knee highs you had left in that same morning, claiming you and your boyfriend were going out for a walk in Central Park.

Bucky meant to compliment you when you waved a last, gentle goodbye over your shoulder with a soft smile. He meant to tell you just how lovely your supple skin, matched with the navy, red and green lines on your dress. He meant to tell you that your hair looked heavenly, and your choice of light makeup made your face look ever so angelic and gentle, but instead, he merely mumbled a low goodbye, banana still in his mouth, and his words still lodged in his throat as he watched you walk out into the morning air.

Bucky took a few steps back and placed a hand on the wooden frame of your door. He peeked his head in, expecting to see you laying on your bed reading, or texting. He figured that maybe your date had just been canceled and that was that… But when he walked in and saw the way you were staring blankly up at the ceiling, he froze. When he watched as your cheeks glistened with tears, and your chest heaved with slow, ragged breaths, he pushed past your doorway and made his presence known. “Y/N?” He spoke soothingly, his voice vibrating his chest as he whispered. “Hey, its okay—its just me.” He approached you at a snail's pace, expecting you to curl away from his sudden presence, but when your eyes met his, he knew that even if you pleaded on your knees for him to leave you alone, he wouldn’t. You being alone in the state you were in, would be the worst for you. He needed to help you; help lift your spirits, and aid you in guiding you back towards yourself again.

Bucky felt as if he was staring at a wilted flower. A flower so deprived of nutrients that it cried out in pain, a flower that had never seen the sun, or felt a drop of water. Bucky reached out, and sat next to you on the bed as you sat up, and curled your legs up against your chest. He knew that sometimes in situations like these, in moments were someone walked in on someone else at their most vulnerable, sometimes that person plainly just wanted company. They wanted to feel that warm presence that mimicked the feeling of coming home after a long day. The warm, fuzzy feeling that dots your skin when you kiss someone for the first time. A warmth that manages to whisper in your ear that everything was going to be okay, even if at the moment, everything was crumbling and dissolving. Even if around you, it felt like everything was falling into an abyss; becoming evanescent and lost. Bucky wanted to be that warmth for you, just like you had been for him, since the beginning, when he first joined the team.

Bucky hesitated before he let his bionic arm hand reach out, and wrap around your wrist. He tugged softly until your eyes met his and you realized that his intentions held all the tenderness they could. He moved your hand away from your face, and away from your eyes, ever so swollen with the remnants of a broken heart and shattered being. Bucky’s body was buzzing with a want, a want that made him feel the urge to question, why? Why were you so upset? Why were you alone? Why did he feel like this all… was because of your boyfriend? He was keening inside, clenching with a thirst for knowledge about the situation unfolding right in front of him, but he held back from interrogating, and instead, moved both your hands down towards your side before he let his hands settle against your cheeks. His thumbs brushed away your tears before they got a chance to lick at the skin of your cheeks and tint them a sorrowful, faded pink. His fingerprints were now engraved against your skin.

You looked up at Bucky, his touch feeling ever so familiar and gentle. You felt that lingering sensation on your skin that made you question if Bucky’s touch was the one that was meant to constantly be on your skin. It made you wonder if maybe Bucky had been the missing piece all along. Your gaze peered into his, and you watched as his cerulean eyes grew ever so compassionate.

The touch of his skin against yours made a slow pulse whorl through your body. The stark contrast of his metal limb against your burning skin proved to ignite something inside of you. It awakened something you couldn’t pinpoint.

You knew you were crying. You could feel the sticky tears fall freely and greedily from your eyes, only to get caught, and soaked up by Bucky’s touch. You instinctively leaned into his touch, and let yourself find comfort in his hands. You needed all the comfort you could get. You were traumatized by what happened, and you were just barely allowing yourself to wrap your head around it. Seeing your boyfriend—well now ex, having sex with another was perturbing. It made you blind with a sort of.. wet rage. An anger the surged through you and made you want to curl into yourself and cry. A rage that seized your words, and lumped them all up in your throat until you were left a blubbering mess. A frustration that was pent up, and pulled so tight, that upon walking in on your lover with another, his hips slapping against hers while they were both enveloped in the blanket you had given him as a random gift not even two weeks back... It was a frustration that loomed over your shoulders and made you rip the necklace he had given you on your one year anniversary, right off your neck the instant your brain processed the sickening rendezvous in front of you. You could still hear the crushing of the gem under your boot, and you could still hear your boyfriend calling out your name in meek attempts to bait you back into loving him. As if seeing him groan out the same pet names he called you when you had willingly given him your virginity, wasn’t traumatizing enough.

You swore you could still feel his fingertips linger against your skin. You swore you could still feel his lips pressing against your skin. You could feel the remnants of his touch still ghost against your being, and you wanted nothing more than to relieve yourself of that weight, even if it meant you had to scorch away his marks with a fire that seemed wrong—but ever so deliciously, mouth-wateringly right.

“He was- was with someone else, Bucky.” Bucky tilted his head in momentary confusion. His brows were knitted together in confusion, but when your eyes held a silent plead for him to understand because you didn’t want to repeat yourself… It all dawned on him. His hands froze against your cheeks, and his jaw ticked with a clench of his molars pushing against each other. “I walked in on them-“ Your words faltered, and the break in your voice echoed in Bucky’s ears, and he felt himself repeating your confession over and over again.

He found himself questioning if he had heard you right. He didn’t understand what was happening, he couldn’t comprehend why someone would do that to you of all people. You were the kindest person Bucky had ever laid his eyes on. Your movements were always cradled with care, and everything you did, or said, held such a tender fluidity to them.

Bucky pulled you close to his chest, his arms enveloping your frame in a warm embrace. He could feel your hands shake against his chest, the warmth of your palms sending bursts of unfiltered emotion through his skin and into his veins. “I gave him everything Buck… I gave him—everything.” Your voice was muffled against Bucky’s chest, but he still heard you clearly, and he understood everything just as easily too. The thought made his blood boil with an anger that he had been hiding for too long. He was surging with crashing waves of ruby rage, and he wanted to punch the man who had caused you so much pain, so much humiliation.

His grip on you tightened, and his chin rested on top of your head. His chest was now heaving with slow, deep gulps of air, and his hands were splayed against the small the of your back in attempts to keep himself at bay with his sudden emotions. If he could feel you next to him, he knew it would stop him from doing anything brash, because when it came to you, he always seemed to struggle with keeping everything under control.

Time ticked by, and the both of you sat still. Your head against his chest, and his body holding yours, cradling you in hopes that it would soothe, and maybe even heal your fragmented soul. Neither of you knew how much time passed, and even though you had a clock at your bedside table, neither of you bothered to turn and look at it. Time wasn’t a priority, time wasn’t a worry.

You pulled away from Bucky first and sat up on your own again. Your muscles ached from sitting still for so long, but nothing seemed to compare to what you were feeling inside. You pulled two hands through your (y/h/c) locks and sighed. Your eyes momentarily flittered shut, and your hands lingered in your hair, fingers still laced in strands of your hair. “I feel disgusting.” You admitted lowly, ducking your head to avoid Bucky’s lingering gaze, but after mere seconds, you found yourself opening your eyes and gazing back over him, eye brimming, spilling even, with the bottled up emotions you held inside yourself.

“Oh-uhm, do you want me to run you a bath?” Bucky questioned warmly, his voice cushioned with gentle reassurance to ensure you knew you had something to fall back on if you were to break down again.

“No- not that kind of disgusting… I just- I feel disgusting,” You repeated, hoping Bucky would understand, but then again, you didn’t even understand yourself. “It’s like I can still feel him all over me. It’s repulsive… I want to forget him.” You whispered, looking down at your open palms again. It was almost like you were waiting to see the silhouette of your boyfriend's hand holding yours. You could feel the weight of his hand, fingers laced with yours, all you needed now, was to see what you kept feeling. “I want- I need to forget him.” You softly pleaded into the air of the room, eyes now trained on a specific plank of wood that almost looked like all the others that lined the flooring of your bedroom, but it wasn’t the same. “Help me forget.” You suddenly blurted after a pocket of bubbled silence washed over both you and Bucky.

Bucky’s eyes never left your frame, his eyes watching as your demeanor constantly fluctuated into different spectrums of emotions. He was hoping to keep up with everything you were feeling, but he was finding it harder than he perceived. His lips parted in surprise when your head suddenly moved to glance at him, and while he had been listening, it wasn’t intently. Your voice was muffled to his ears, so it took him a few blinks, and furrowed brows until he truly understood what you said, although your statement still brought along another string of confusion and questions. Forget? How? How was he meant to help with that? “How am I meant to help you forget?” He questioned, his eyes flickering between both of yours in attempts to fish for an answer—but he had no luck in finding one.

“Help me just—forget everything about him. I don’t want to ever think about him..” You pleaded softly, uncurling from yourself as you let your arms loosen around your knees, and your legs stretch out until they dangled down from the edge of your bed. You stared at him, taking in his expression in a mimic of the way he was taking in yours; intensely, hoping to memorize every detail. You shifted in your spot on the bed and turned to face him, legs now tucked underneath you as you reached out to touch his cheek under your fingertips. “Replace his touch… with yours.” You whispered, your eyes never leaving his as you scooted closer to him, your knees now touching his.

His stubble prickled under your fingertips, and his skin felt warm under your usual cold fingertips. “I can’t.” Bucky finally spoke up, and you felt your lips twitch down into a soft frown. Your eyes searched his for a reasoning, but he seemed adamant in not giving you one.

“Why?” You whispered, your hand slowly faltering against his cheek until it completely fell from him and settled back against your lap.

“You’re hurting, Y/N. I’m not going to take advantage of you like that—you’re not in the right mindset… let me help you in another way..” He suggested softly, and you felt yourself reaching out again, now both your hands cradling his cheeks.

“No, James. I’m sure of this… please.” You implored slowly, hoping to convince him. No matter how badly you were hurting, there was no denying the feelings you had towards Bucky. They were always there, always prominent, but you never acted on them. From the start, when your (y/e/c) eyes met his slate ones for the first time, you knew something would bloom between the both of you, you knew you’d grow to like him more than a teammate, more than a friend, but after getting to know him; his darkest demons… you believed it was best to keep things platonic between the both of you, for his sake. Now you were realizing that that decision, was a mistake. It should’ve been Bucky all along. It should’ve been Bucky who held your virginity and cradled your secrets. It should’ve been Bucky holding the most intimate parts of yourself. You had been blind, and forget to ask yourself what you wanted. You jumped into a relationship blindly, thinking it would cure your demons and help you forget your feelings for Bucky, but it didn’t, it only caused you to dwell with more demons, and long for a life with Bucky at your side as your lover, instead of your ex, who wounded you so badly. You had to right all your wrongs. This was your chance.

“Okay- I just… Okay. I’ll help.” Bucky gulped, his movements hesitant. Bucky didn’t feel unsure of this all because he didn’t have feelings for you, no, it was because he had feelings for you. Even if you wanted him now, that didn’t cover tomorrow, or the next day. It didn’t clarify your feelings for him, it only made the water murkier, and he wasn’t too sure that he would be able to act as if nothing happened after a shared moment like the one you were asking.

In the past, sure, Bucky would’ve had no problems with a one and done. He would’ve been happier with just a simple, no strings attached act… But now, after everything he’s been through, ‘simple’ acts like these weren’t so simple anymore. He valued all the affection he received. But even so, he still found himself agreeing to help you.

Bucky watched as your eyes sparked with a sort of… excitement towards his agreement. He let you scoot closer before he let his hands settled against your waist. His hands were gentle with you, and when you leaned in so your forehead was pressed against his, he felt himself gulp. Bucky had pictured a moment like this, a moment with you, one too many times, and now that it was becoming a reality, all he could wish for was for this moment to hold just as much depth, just as much emotion, as he had daydreamed about in the past.

His gaze flickered between your lips and your eyes, his gaze silently asking for permission, to ensure you were okay with this all. When Bucky felt you nod against his forehead, his hands moved upwards, ghosting against your sides, and arms until his palms were cradling your neck, thumbs tracing your jaw.

Bucky watched as your eyes fluttered shut when his lips brushed yours, and just that touch alone sent bursts of vibrant colors to cloud over Bucky’s vision. He leaned in further until your lips pressed against his, and his body leaned forwards, already baited into loving the feeling of your lips moving against his. His fingertips moved upwards until they reached your hair, and he pulled you closer against him.

The kiss was slow and intimate. A sensual, long-awaited touch between two clueless lovers that still, even now, with their lips touching, weren’t sure if the other liked them back just as boldly as they liked them.

Bucky made sure to keep his movements slow, and you were grateful for it. You wanted to feel him touch you, you wanted to feel his hands, instead of the ghost touches of the man who had broken your heart.

Bucky nipped at your lip, letting the silent gasp that slipped past your now parted lips allow him to slip his tongue out to brush against yours. Everything about the situation was magical. It was filled with vibrancy, and care. It held a tenderness and blanketed the both of you under a fuzzy warmth that grew and blossomed goosebumps on both your skins’ before that same warmth settled in both your stomachs’ in gentle, desire oriented arousal.

Bucky moved against your mouth until he began trailing kisses downwards. His lips moved against your skin. A kiss to the corner of your mouth, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach, and tickle you until a blush was dusting your cheeks a warm tinge of the color salmon. A kiss to your jaw, multiple kisses to your jaw. Each holding unsaid words, that Bucky hoped would convey into the tenderness of each of his kisses, and soak into your skin so you could feel his ever-growing emotions that were all deeply rooted for you.

His lips left opened mouthed kisses along the base of your neck, and he hesitated against your pulse point before he gave into his own pleas and pressed a bold-stripped lick against your erratic pulse. The act earned a gentle whimper from your parted lips, and he hummed in satisfaction. He couldn’t deny that he didn’t adore just how responsive you were to his simple touches and kisses.

Bucky’s hands untangled from your hair, and they moved downwards, past where your chests touched until they splayed against the small of your back. His flesh palm hot against your clothed skin, as his bionic arm sent a shiver up your back. Even though the fabric of your simple sundress, you could still feel him. “James,” You whimpered, lulling your head back as your hands curled into his hair, completely pulling it out of the loose bun it once resided in. You were washed over in pure ecstasy, and you were keening under every touch he placed on your body. He treated you so fondly, so warmly. He painted you in gentle hues of lavender, oranges and blue. He presented you with everything beautiful in a human, and all he had done was kiss you.

A string of long, angelic whines fell from your cherry lips when Bucky pressed his plush lips against the base of your neck, the stimulation of his lips against that one specific spot, sending you in a frenzy of aroused stimulation and closeted desire.

Bucky laid you back against the bed ever so slowly, and delicately. He cradled you warmly and allowed you to shift against the bed as you gazed up at him with hooded eyes before he leaned down once more to entrap your lips against his all over again. This time, his touches held a silent urgency. A gentle plea for more, and you were more than happy to allow him to indulge in his desire. Your hands ghosted against his chest, still clad in his workout gear, but even with a shirt on, you could still feel his solid muscles, that rippled his skin with every movement he made to feel closer to you. You hooked your fingers on the bottom of his shirt, and he pulled away from your lips with a deep, warm sigh. His eyes met yours, and he flashed you a gentle smile, urging you to discard his shirt from his body if that was what you wanted.

You tugged upwards, and he aided you in pulling the article of clothing off. His skin was hot under your fingertips, and you watched as his muscles rippled against your opened palm while he threw his shirt somewhere onto the floor of your bedroom.

Bucky watched through hooded eyelids and you leaned upwards and kissed his skin. He hadn’t expected that. He had expected you to stare at his newly exposed skin, eyes wide when your gaze eventually settled on the skin that was flared a ghastly pink; where the Bucky he was, met the killing solider he was forced to be. Where skin met metal.

Bucky sighed when you pressed butterfly-like kisses to his scaring. Only you would hold such compassion to act tender towards the single physical thing that still tethered him to Hydra. Only you, could reach out, and ghost a fingertip against his skin and brush away all his insecurities. He let you linger for a few more moments, before he reached, and cupped your chin, moving you back upwards so your lips now, ghosted over his.

He leaned his forehead against yours, his lips continuously brushing against yours in the fragmented collection of multiple kisses. He nudged at your legs, which you so trustfully parted so he could situate his hips against yours. His pelvic bones pressed against yours, and when he finally allowed his lips the delight of meeting yours again, he also allowed himself to indulge in the act of rolling his clothed pelvis down onto yours. The moan that slipped past his lips, and onto yours, resonated in his chest. He pulled away from the short kiss, wanting to catch a glimpse of the desire that was ever growing in your eyes.

Bucky was enchanted by your gentle moans, the sounds slipping past your parted lips mimicking that of honey. Ever so rich, ever so delectable. He continued his movements against you, enthralled by the feeling of pleasure that continuously shot through his body like lightning bolts of that only Zeus could produce. The room was already so heavy with craving, and lust- induced pleas, it was sickeningly delicious.

“Bu-cky..” You mewled out, the arousal pooling inside of you proving to be too much. You needed relief, you needed something to quench the thirst for Bucky that was burning inside you. “James, please..” You groaned out, throwing your head back in frustration.

Bucky was blinded with lust and was savoring each roll of his hips that he moved against you, each glide bringing forth a warm wave of pleasure in its wake. He was basking in pure euphoria, and your groans and mewls fuelled the fire more. He leaned down, pressing kisses to your neck as you leaned your head back against the pillows. He nipped at your skin, his teeth grazing over your collarbone until they bit down on the protruding bone, which earned him a soft moan from your between your lips.

He pulled away from you, sitting on his knees as he kept his hands on your hips. His eyes met yours, and he smiled again, only this time, the smile held more than just gentle reassurance. It held a soft warning, a never voiced, ‘just wait for what’s to come’.

Bucky grabbed a hold of the end of your dress before he began bunching it up in his hands and lifting it up and eventually, off your body. Under other circumstances, you were positive you would’ve been shivering because of all your newly exposed skin. But the look in Bucky’s eyes… it kept the fire of desire that was licking at your interior, ever so strong and fast growing. You looked up at him, and bit down on your lip, hands reaching out for his. Your palms open as Bucky smiled again, his lips lifting in a tender, soft smile as his hands met yours and intertwined his fingers with yours. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N..” Bucky breathed, situating himself back between your legs, his forehead pressed against yours. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” He admitted, smiling again when he noticed the peach blush that dotted the skin of your cheeks and across the bridge of your nose.

He kept his hands laced with yours as he begun trailing down again, his lips ghosting past your neck in teasing, unplaced kisses until his mouth lingered above the newly exposed skin of your breast that curved ever so delicately. He licked his lips before he pressed a warm, opened mouth kiss to the skin. He unlaced a hand from yours and moved it behind you until it reached the clasp of your bra. Bucky glanced up at you, but your eyes were closed as you relished in his touches, so he merely placed another kiss against the tops of your breasts, before he unclasped the article of clothing.

Bucky moved his free hand back out from underneath you, the warmth of his flesh doing nothing to soothe the ache you felt inside. Nothing seemed to control the fire growing inside you, except for relief. Orgasmic relief. You let out a grunt and moved your freehand to tug down the straps of your bralette. You couldn’t keep at bay with your arousal anymore, you needed him.

Bucky found himself smirking at your neediness, and he grabbed a hold of your bra, pulling it off of you in a single swipe, which in turn, aroused a long, delicate sigh to sound from your mouth. He immediately lowered himself down, both his hands now gripping your waist as his eyes devoured the sight of seeing you so exposed. He glanced up at you, before he leaned down, and licked at your nipple once. Your bud was already erect, but he could still feel it harden more against the newfound warmth of his mouth. He encircled your breast and sucked on your supple skin.

Your hands immediately tangled into his unruly hair, and you threw your head back with an accompanied long moan. The sensitivity of your body was at a new high, and in all reality, you wouldn’t be surprised if the action of Bucky nipping and sucking at your nipples would be enough to send you over the edge. You were aroused to the point where it was painful.

You carded your hands through his locks, eventually just savoring the feeling of his kisses and nibbles, rather than basking in the need that was pooling in your stomach in painful, longing clenches.

Bucky trailed further down now, figuring that he assaulted your breasts long enough. He held your hips down onto the bed as he ghosted further down, his tongue trailing with his lips until he reached the start of your lacy panties. He looked up at you through his lashes and hummed when you pulled your hands through his hair once more, your nails scratching against his scalp this time. He pressed a few more lingering kisses to the skin of your stomach before he snaked both hands to hold down on your hips and thighs.

His head dove between your legs, and he pressed a gentle kiss over your throbbing heat. You moaned softly, the noise getting hitched in your throat. You wanted to throw your head back in bliss, but you stopped yourself, wanting to see every movement Bucky made against you instead.

Bucky licked at your clothed heat, stiffening his tongue as he used the tip to circle over your clit. That act alone sent overwhelming pleasure to course through your body, and you had to grip at the bedsheets to stay grounded. Any soft sort of friction seemingly was pushing you closer and closer to your release. Bucky hooked his fingers on the elastic band of your underwear, before he slowly slid them down your legs, his mouth following the movement and pressing gentle kisses down your legs. He tossed the lacy underwear over his shoulder once he pulled it off completely, and he glanced up at you, smirking softly at the desperate blush that was heating your cheeks. He began kissing back up your legs until his mouth danced against the elastic of your knee highs. He licked at your skin and snapped the elastic against your thigh before he trailed back up, his hot, drawn-out breaths now fanning against your core. His eyes, however, stayed glued on you, and you made sure to follow his gaze as well, the lust that adorned his eyes proving to only pool the arousal between your folds even more.

Finally, Bucky dipped in between your legs and licked a bold stripe up your folds, groaning against your glistening heat. “Fuck..” He cursed, barely above a whisper as he held you down harder, ensuring you had no way to move against him. He wanted to take his sweet time in working you through your first, long drawn out orgasm. He lapped at your slick and savored the taste of your sinful desire. Never before, did he ever think he’d be doing this, much less with you. Never did he imagine that he’d have this view of you, everything exposed, and ready for him to touch. It was ever so stimulating, and his cock was continuously throbbing, and dripping with precum in hopes of, oh, so sweet release.

He used his index finger to pull back the hood over your clit, before he licked at the sensitive bud, humming in response to the string of curses that spewed past your lips in delectable, savory pleasure.

He sucked at your throbbing bud, hoping to ease you of the cramping pressure of release that pushed at your stomach. He sucked against your bud, swirling his tongue against you as he loosened his bionic arm from around your waist, and instead, moved it in between your legs, slipping a cold digit in-between your folds.

You were a mess of moans, and mewls. Whimpers resonating from your chest, and your hands gripping at your bedsheets as he worked you with his tongue, and eventually a finger, then two. Your walls clenched around him, your arousal lubricating his metal digits until they curled into you with ease, the only feeling bubbling in your stomach now being your undeniable urge to let go. You gasped when Bucky curled his fingers and brushed your g-spot, the new found pleasure tantalizing your release until you were a writhing mess of need. He was continuously lapping at your clit, and repeatedly curling his fingers to touch you right where you needed him to. His fingers already stimulated your clit, his touch sending the jolts of orgasmic pleasure straight to your clit, but now, he was working you both ways, and you were completely unraveling. “James!” You gasped, throwing your head back against your pillows at you gripped at your sheets all over again. “Oh god, yes.” You moaned, finally letting your orgasm wash over you.

Your jaw was slack with moans flowing out from your lips. His name seemed to be the only coherent word that was engraved in your mind, and your skin was burning with the heat of the continuous lava-like waves that were drowning you in heated desire. You had never experienced an orgasm quite like this.

You could see stars dot your vision as you threw your head back in unfiltered, orgasmic pleasure. You could feel your body keening for more, and your legs were shaking under Bucky’s touch. It was as if the planets had aligned like a star had been born with the explosion of pleasure; the burst in your being. It was a fresh summers breeze that brought along the warmth of the summers scent and flowers aroma. It was a thunderstorm, raining down on you in giant, rumbling drops of water. It was everything, yet not enough. You were already craving for more pleasure the second his mouth left your clit. You swore he was some sort of incubus, a sort of sinful thing created in the depths of pure, sinful desire because this was just ungodly. Everything about the sensation was overwhelming, and you swore it was something like magic—but when you opened your lust-filled eyes and met the cerulean blue eyes of Bucky, you knew that if anything, the man before you would be something of an angel rather than a demon.

You watched his face, your chest still heaving with the remnants of your orgasm. Your body was still recuperating, and yet, you already wanted more. Your gaze washed over him, and you soon realized that he was completely bare in front of you. The only thing separating the both of you was space. All you had to do was reach out, and pull him on top of you. You could reach out, and touch all of him, every inch of his body.

Bucky wasn’t sure if he was meant to feel vulnerable under your gaze, but either way, he didn’t. Your wandering eyes only fuelled his desire more. It added to the fire that was already burning him. He licked his lips, tasting the remaining bit of you he had left on his pink lips, before he held himself in his hand, and pumped himself a few times.

He used his hand to coat himself in his precum before he situated himself back against your hips, his forehead back against yours. His eyes were trained down towards his member, which was only inches away from where you both needed the most. He maneuvered his tip against your folds, coating himself in your glistening slick. Bucky mixed his arousal, with yours and used it to lubricate his girth completely before he continued with the long, rolls of his hips against your heat, and over your clit. He was purposefully drawing it all out in hopes that the longer you both waited, the more overwhelming the pleasure would be.

He kept his movements slow and drawled out. His tip repeatedly prodded your entrance, and you felt yourself clenching around whatever you could in hopes for some sort of relief, but when your attempts failed every time, you eventually just threw your head back in frustration, stars doting your vision as your hands gripped at the bedsheets. You could feel his protruding veins, and how his girth pressed against your slicked folds before he thrusted forwards and let his tip press against your clit. He was teasing, and you were drowning in want, and craving release. “I swear James, please stop teasing..” You gasped, arching your back as you reached up and tugged at his hair in a silent plea for him to do something, anything; you just wanted to quench the thirst that was growing inside you.

Bucky was smirking against your skin as he leaned his head into the crook of your neck, and when he felt his veins throbbing, and his precum spew from his slit, and down onto his palm, he finally indulged and let his most primal instincts kick in as he situated his tip into you, before he rolled himself into you in one, swift thrust. The noise that reverberated between the both of you when you both gasped in pleasure, was everything but holy, and the sinful desire that was prickling at your skins’ was painfully delicious.

Bucky’s girth and length had taken you by surprise. Sure, you had seen his cock with your own two eyes and while you thought it was big, the feeling of him inside you made you question just how big he was. You were brimming with pleasure, and spilling with pain. Never before had you felt so filled, and stretched. You were keening with pleasure-pain, and Bucky was quick to seize his movements, and let you adjust, no matter just how badly his body was aching for him to move.

He knew it was selfish of him to thrust into you so deeply, so quickly, but he couldn’t help himself. He had dreamed of feeling you around him. He had craved to feel your warmth envelope his cock as you clenched around him in desperation, and while he imagined you would feel amazing, in reality, you felt more than amazing. You felt so overwhelming right. Like when the horizon meets the sea. That grey area of pure, unfiltered pleasure that tingled his nerves. The way you took his length snugly, how tight you felt around his cock. How his girth made you arch your back, and grip at the bedsheets. Everything about this all was driving Bucky wild. He was frenzied with lust and spewing with whispered curse words every time you clenched around him in attempts to get accustomed to his size.

Bucky thanked whoever would listen when you nodded your head slowly and wrapped your arms around his neck in a never voiced urge for him to move. He was much obliged and glided his length further into you. He savored the way you gasped at the sensation, and let the feeling of your nails clawing at his back urge him to pull back until his tip brushed against your folds once more, and you were a whining mess under him before he rolled his hips back into yours.

He was already grunting, and his movements were slow; sloppy even. He was moaning, groaning, swearing, and thrusting into you deeply. His hips circling against you in attempts to brush against you so deeply, that you were keening for more, for him to move faster.

You threw your head back against the pillows and attempted to meet his thrusts, with your own rolls, but the overstimulation of it all made your hips jerk with a sting of pleasure that rang through your body in shades of lustful red. You were seeing the stars, and feeling the cosmos move inside you. Flowers bloomed in your stomach, and with each plunge of his hips and as he glided into you, you felt your arousal rain down on those same flowers, and drown you over with intoxicating pleasure. Each roll of his hips caressed the deepest parts of you, and you felt like you were choking. You screwed your eyes shut, your jaw falling slack as moans flowed past your cherry lips, and hung in the air that was already pungent with the musky smell of sex. Never before had you felt someone worship your body the way Bucky was. His movements against you were ever so sensual, and passionate. They were brushed over in golds, and silvers. They sparkled your body with a sheen of sweat and coaxed your throat to dislodge the moans and whimpers that you attempted to suppress out of pure shyness.

His actions were blanketed in tenderness, and it was as if he was enchanted by your body; entranced by the sight of you underneath him, taking him so intimately. Your flushed cheeks, and wispy hair. Your swollen lips, and pleading eyes. The way your lashes brushed against your skin every time you closed your eyes. You looked like an angel.

Bucky’s hair was brushing against his cheeks, and his lips were parted to make way for the constant string of grunts, and hushed ‘fucks’ that fell past his pink, rounded lips, and into the thick air that was electrified by the shocks that were flowing between the both of you. His body was glistening with sheen, and his eyes kept flickering between your eyes, and downwards, where his cock met your heat. His body was molded into yours, and the way his muscles rippled under his tanned skin made the fire inside you, burn brighter. His stomach was repeatedly clenching, his abs ever so prominent. His muscles flexed under your hands as you clawed at his back once more, and his hips jutted into yours, his pace quickening.

“My god, you feel so good- fuck, baby,” Bucky growled, grabbing a hold of your ankle and hooking your leg over his shoulder so he could push into you just a little further. Just enough so he was panting, and heaving with hissed moans. He watched as you threw your head back once more, and he growled lowly. “Look at me, I want to see you come undone,” He quipped, his voice husky, and smoky. He was shrouded in the lust induced clouds brought down by the God Eros, and the sight was quickly inching you closer and closer to your demise. “Come on, baby, look at me.” He pleaded lowly, his voice an octave lower, and his thrusts becoming deeper and more frantic. He was chasing his release and was close to not only brimming with electrified pleasure, but he was thrusts away from spilling over with orgasmic pleasure. Hues of red painted over his vision messily, and he watched as you kept your (y/e/c) eyes locked with his, pupils dilated, and chest heaving. Your lip was between your teeth, and he could tell you were close because whimpers were greedily falling from between your lips and clenched jaw.

Bucky reached down and circled your swollen clit with three fingers. As much as he wanted to focus on his own release into the addicting orgasmic waves, you were his priority. You were the one who had asked for this, and you needed to be the one to have the best experience out of all of this. He wanted you to walk out of this whole ordeal, painted with shades of the sunset. Glistening with happiness, no longer gloomed over with the clouds of negativity your ex had looming over you. He cared for you enough, to set you as a priority, even now, when his most primal instincts kept trying to take over.

Your orgasm was quick to wash over you, knocking the air from your lungs as you gasped, and cried out Bucky’s name in the last attempts to stay grounded. Your nails dug into his skin, and you tried to pull him close and hold on tight, but he was focused on milking out your orgasm, while still chasing his. You were floating over the clouds, touching the stars, and staring straight at the moon. You felt galaxies dot your vision when your eyes shut tightly, and you felt the waves of ever-growing pleasure drown you until you were a blubbering, intoxicated mess of reddened lips, and roused moans. Bucky was no aid in cooling you down, and instead, he brought along another orgasm with his own release.

He emptied himself inside you, the tightness of your cunt proving to be the perfect thing to send him over the edge with relished moans, and spewed curses. He coated you with his cum and groaned softly when he pulled out and saw just how filled you were with your own juices, and his own. He flopped down against you, disregarding his weight as an issue because he was absolutely spent.

His arms ached, and his back stung with overexertion. It had been a while since he last had intercourse with a woman, so all his muscles ached with the gentle throb and pulse of exhaustion. He hummed in satisfaction when your hands carded through his hair, which was now curled, and unruly with the remnants of your rendezvous.

Bucky pulled away after a moment, and he glanced up at you, before he broke up from your embrace completely, and walked into the bathroom. He grabbed the washcloth from your bathroom counter, running it under lukewarm water, and wringing it out of the extra water before he walked back into your room. He flashed you a lazy smile when he noticed you had now pulled the cover out from underneath you, and snuggled against your plethora of pillows.

“Here, let me clean you up.” Bucky hummed, pulling away the covers before he reached for your ankle and pulled your legs apart once more. With one hand still holding your ankle, he cleaned your core slowly, making sure to be gentle and careful of your obvious sensitivity. He pulled away with a few delicate kisses to your ankle, before he stood up, and wiped himself of the remaining slick on his cock.

Bucky walked back towards the bed and pulled the cover back over you, his hand carding through your hair warmly to push a few stray hairs away from your forehead. With reluctant hesitation, he pulled away from you and reached for his shirt to get dressed. He knew better than to expect more than just sex. He was just a distraction for you, and he was fully aware of that when he had agreed to do this all… but there was no denying the sting in his chest when he thought about not being able to hold you against his chest, even after sharing such an intimate moment.

He pulled the shirt over his head and began pulling on his boxers before your hand reached out, and gripped his wrist. Your eyes held a million questions, but Bucky found himself not being able to even decipher one.

“Where are you going?” You questioned, your voice sparking that same curiosity in Bucky he had struggled to keep at bay with ever since he had first laid his eyes on you.

“To my room? You looked tired... I figured you wanted to sleep.” He responded, his voice laced with innocent cluelessness to your obvious feelings towards him. He still thought everything he was feeling was unrequited.

“I do, buh-but that doesn’t mean you have to leave.” Your cheeks grew a light shade of crimson, and you felt gentle amusement bubble at your insides. You had just slept with the guy, but you still got embarrassed talking to him.

“I don’t?” Bucky couldn’t help the light smile that tugged on his lips, and he was quick to tug off his shirt when you nodded again for him to stay. He lifted the covers, slipped in and wrapped his arm around your waist. He pulled you back against him, legs curled together with yours as you turned to face him. Your head against his chest and a hand splayed against his supple skin. He watched in tender silence as you drew unorganized lines against his skin, and he let his cold, metal digits dance across the supple skin of your forearm, a warm smirk gracing his features when he noticed the way your body reacted to his touch by blooming with goosebumps.

The both of you were savoring the warm, caring silence that washed over the both of you before you spoke up, words dipped incautious, almost scared and hesitant care, “It should’ve been you from the start.” You sighed, letting your eyes flutter closed in fear that he would shy away from your words and eventually, just pull away from you as a whole. “This—should’ve happened sooner.” You admitted, finally letting your eyes flitter back open as you eyed him through your lashes.

“Maybe,” He finally spoke up after another wave of silence washed over the both of you. His voice was hushed and heartfelt. His words were warmed with the passion shared between the both of you, and you felt a fuzziness settle over your body. “But at least it happened now, we can’t really ask for much more..” Bucky glanced down at you, and let his smile grow when he noticed your gaze already on him. He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, his lips still turned up in a smile, like yours now were.

“It finally gets to be me and you, huh?” You mused tenderly, and he grinned now, his dimples making their appearance on his stubbled cheeks.

“Mmhm, me and you.” He agreed, placing a kiss on your head as his bionic hand continued to ghost your skin in attempts to memorize every curve, every rounding of your body. He was already trying to make up for all the lost time he had wasted, not getting to know you, not standing up against your boyfriend. But he knew better than to dwell in the past, because even though he had been longing for you for probably too long, he finally had you in his arms, snuggled up into his chest, the scent of your shampoo overshadowing his senses as you slowly slipped out of consciousness, and fell asleep wrapped in his embrace.

[manaika-chan]

Hi! Since I am a snail and soon Fabulous Family Chronicles will be two whole years behind, I thought I could just start giving you updates about the situation in Japan regarding same-sex relationships and LGBTQ+ rights, starting with this article. To sum it up, the precedent for a same-sex couple fostering (not adopting, there’s a difference) a child has been set, although same-sex couples are still not legally recognized and the government hasn’t officially ‘allowed’ for same-sex couples to take children into their care (it is possible individually). It dates to April 2017, which makes it 8 months ahead of “Wreath” and 6 months ahead of “Scale of Pride” (the Kansai Rainbow Parade 2017 took place on the 7th October), meaning the works might reference it - Pride likelier than Wreath, if I can find a good place to sneak it in. Until then, have this surprise drabble. :D

When Shinpachi turns on the news that evening, several things surprise him at once. Granted, it starts in the usual fashion, tragic news from the Iraq war, flooding in New Zealand and the latest chapter in the comedy of errors that’s now U.S. American politics. When he learns that a bomb has been disabled in St. Petersburg it feels like a breath of fresh air, something positive amidst the chaos of the tumultuous early 21st century. When he hears about the signing of the new Constitution in Thailand he’s genuinely surprised, but it isn’t until the local news airs that he’s completely blown away.

The words of the reporter keep ringing in his ears for a long time.

His first impulse is to text Sano, but then he remembers that Sano reads the paper every morning and listens to the news on the radio throughout the day, and probably already knows anyway. He ends up deleting the message without sending it. Then he thinks about calling, JUST TO MAKE SURE. He doesn’t.

Instead he does the one thing he hates more than being hungry - he waits.

For a short while he manages to distract himself with his PS3, but in the end, not even Assassin’s Creed Unity can keep his mind off the matter. He writes into his journal to sort out his thoughts. It doesn’t help. He then busies himself with menial work, cleans every counter in the kitchen, even does the dishes, but to no avail. By the time ten o’clock rolls around he’s a wreck. The sake cups clink in his shaking hands and he almost drops the tokkuri as he’s taking them out of the fridge. When he hears the jingle of the keys he actually jumps a little, heaving a relieved sigh in the next breath.

He grabs the tray and heads to the door.

“Okaeri.”

Sano looks up at him from where he’s bent over as he’s taking off his sneakers.

“Tadaima.”

Their eyes meet.

“Have you heard the news?”

Their voices speak as one and they share a surprised look. Finally Sano smiles as he approaches, taking the tray from Shinpachi’s hands with a wry smile.

“I read it in the morning paper, but I didn’t believe it until I heard it on the radio multiple times.”

Shinpachi chuckles. “Well, they just reported it on the evening news, so it must be true.”

Before either of them can say anything else there’s the thundering of footsteps on the staircase, followed by a rushed rattle of keys. Seconds later Heisuke stumbles through the door and without even stopping to take his shoes off, he runs straight up to them, completely out of breath as if he ran all the way from the park as he gasps out,

“Please tell me you’ve seen the blog.”

Shinpachi raises an eyebrow at him.

“What blog?”

“The BLOG, you know the news- MY GOD, YOU GEEZERS!”

Concluding that showing was more effective than telling, Heisuke pulls out his phone and after a quick swipe against the screen, he shows it into their faces.

“THIS, I’m talking about THIS!”

“GAY COUPLE CERTIFIED AS FOSTER PARENTS,”

it reads bold and in capital letters. The accompanying text below,

“For the first time in Japanese history, the city of Osaka has certified a same-sex couple for joint foster care”

They both give their son a face-splitting grin.

“We were just talking about it,” Sano says.

“Good. Does this mean Sano-san can finally adopt me officially?”

There’s so much hope in his voice that Shinpachi’s heart breaks.

“Well…” he shares a look with Sano, before turning to Heisuke. “They allowed the joined foster care, but there’s no precedent for adoption yet. I think they actually need to change the Koseki for that…”

“What Shinpachi is trying to say is that we have no idea,” Sano interrupts him. Heisuke looks crushed, until Sano gives him that encouraging smile that could raise the spirit of a dead man. “But things have taken a positive turn, so there’s hope yet. Change is happening, one step at a time.”

“Baby steps,” Shinpachi corrects him, yet smiles a second later. “But still. At least now we have an argument more.”

Heisuke’s eyes light up again, a deep yearning reflecting in his bright green eyes, and this time Shinpachi feeds it.

“We should start looking into it again.” He answers Sano’s unspoken question, clear in the raised eyebrow and curious gaze aiming at Shinpachi. “I mean, if they can approve of a foster care, why not an adoption? We won’t know the answer until we try. At the very least we’ve taken the chance. We need to start the fight again. Nothing will come out of nothing.”

Sano looks at him for a long moment, Heisuke’s blazing, hopeful gaze still glowing at them brightly.

“Alright,” he nods finally, and smiles. “We can at least try.”

Shinpachi smiles, but anything he could have responded would have drowned in Heisuke’s loud cheer. Slender arms wrap around them and happy chatter fills their ears, ringing through their souls.

A movement in the corner of his eyes catches his attention and a glance in the direction reveals Chizuru and Ryuunosuke standing in the doorway, smiles broad and eyes filled with emotion.

And as tumultuous and chaotic as the times may be, all Shinpachi can see at that moment is the future.

[usotaku]

Will Attack on Titan Season 3 Move Forward by usotaku

It’s really hard to believe were almost half way through the Summer anime season and as some shows are taking shape others are lagging a bit behind and already leaving some of us unsatisfied and AoT is one of them for me. This might be of course because I don’t read the manga and so everything that airs in the anime is a total surprise to me but I just feel like it’s leaving a lot more to be desired with it’s pacing and focus. In earlier seasons the internal politics behind the walls were a bit of a minor story point and one that I didn’t feel needed serious attention because after all there are a lot larger questions this series needs to answer like what are Titans, where did they come from, why are they bent on destroying humanity and what the heck was in Erin’s basement in season 1 that was a big secret?

Currently the show is focused solely on the internal politics behind the wall and the skeletons that dwell in the closet of regime bent on maintaing the status quo rather than furthering humanities ability to fight these apparent invaders known as Titan’s and reclaim their position as the dominate species. What were seeing now is the collective masses huddling behind the walls in terror and its dependance on a government that prioritizes ignorance and superstition in the name of safety by going so far as to even sacrificing their own citizens to maintain the illusion of peace against an enemy bent on destroying them. 

From the point of view of the last season this is a huge let down. After Erin was captured we finally had the chance to gain answers to some of the most pressing questions with the reveal of human form Titans but rather than moving the story forward to those answers the writers took a huge step back to artificially maintain a sense of suspense and drama by turning the story away from those nuggets of truth and leaving us starving for the meager morsels they are dolling out by simply letting on that with the governments fall huge truths can be revealed by way of an information dump. 

Such turns are a tragic constant in anime that only ever demonstrates the writers poor storytelling skills and lack of understanding for narrative. The best writers rarely rely on info dumps and use the narrative to constantly drop those tidbits of information that lead up to the end result even if they are only misdirections that are meant to keep you in suspense for the final reveal and it works oh so well. Only rarely dose this happen most action anime whose writing style relies on exposition via conversational info dumps. Previously keeping the story vague and shallow in order to lead up to the “reason I’ve been doing all this” reveals from that is generally only seen from over the top villains that can’t help but monologue their master plan to the hero in what they assume will be their moment of triumph only to have their plans defeated because the hero now has all the information they need to thwart their machinations.  

Naturally there are some instances in anime where this appropriate but in show like AoT it quickly leads to boredom as focus shifts to back ground stories of relatively minor characters that only drives the narrative forward at a snails pace rather than the pace of action previously set by opening episodes. Still there is plenty of room in this season for improvement and really hope this season will prove my assumptions incorrect but right now I just find it really frustrating that episode after episode isn’t bringing us any close to the final resolution. What are your thoughts so far on this season and do you agree or a disagree with my conclusions so far? Until next time, jane!

Image source: https://myanimelist.net/anime/35760/Shingeki_no_Kyojin_Season_3

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[iesnoth]

How do we cope?

Pre-Infinity War and mid-credits scene

Trigger warnings: mental illness, fighting, discussion of family death

Thor was used to his brother picking fights with him, but this way of doing it was new. Usually, Loki would pester him until Thor threw the first punch, or use illusions to lure him into an ambush, or just poison his mead. But, to his credit, the trickster god had kept his mischief to a minimum onboard the Statesman.

So, in a weird way, Thor was almost relieved when the frazzled attendant had come to inform him that the bubble had burst: Loki was throwing a tantrum in their shared quarters.

The clangs and booms of Loki’s destruction echoed down the angular arches of the hall as Thor approached at a long, firm stride. He’d ordered all the attendants and loiterers out of all the adjoining hallways and rooms. He wasn’t sure what kind of Loki he would be facing off against, and though he hoped it wouldn’t come to violence, wanted to avoid civilian casualties. He peered through the foot-wide gap between the double doors, and a chair and a tray of crystal tumblers hurtled past. Thor cursed under his breath. He should have suspected something was amiss when his brother hadn’t shown up for the weekly council meeting. Loki had been practically attached to Thor's hip unless he ordered his younger sibling to find something more useful to do, but Thor assumed the trickster had finally bored of following him around.

The crashing stopped. Thor guessed Loki heard him, and stepped out from his hiding place.

“Brother--”

He was cut off when Loki slammed into him, forearm to Thor’s neck, pinning the god of thunder to the door. Thor retaliated through muscle memory and served Loki a flat-palmed blow to the chest, thrusting him backward. Loki also recovered quickly and threw a trio of eight-inch knives toward Thor’s head. Thor ducked behind a pillar for cover.

“By Hel itself, Loki!” Thor yelled around the metal column. He grunted as a sofa knocked him from behind the pillar, but he plucked it from the air and used it to absorb still more knives. “If you wanted to spar, you could have just asked!”

Loki looked disheveled and manic. Purple bags rimmed his eyes from lack of sleep, his hair hung in limp tangles, and his jaw jutted forward the way it did when he was particularly bloodthirsty. He was barefoot and was without the cape he wore like a security blanket. Thor hadn’t seen Loki so undone since-- since their mother died.

What was wrong with him? Was he sick and hallucinating some unseen foe? Was he possessed by something? Or perhaps, Thor thought, his nostrils flaring, Loki has felt this way inside for a long time, and I just never noticed.

He kicked the sofa into Loki, knocking him to the ground. Thor was on him in an instant, pulling him to his feet. He held his face with one hand to make his brother meet his eye. “What’s wrong, Loki?”

Loki snarled, and Thor braced himself. He didn’t have enough hands to restrain Loki’s arms as well, and to be honest, if Loki needed to stab him, he didn’t mind. It had been a while since Thor had felt any intense emotion.

But Loki didn’t stab him. His green eyes held Thor’s blue one, flicked over to the leather eye patch, then back to the blue. His brows turning up and he cried out through gritted teeth.

“I’m feeling, brother,” he spat. “Everything you’re not. Everything you suppressed.” He gripped the side of Thor’s head. “And I want you to feel it too.”

Thor frowned. “What do you mean?”

“’What do I mean?’ Are you an idiot?” Loki shook him. “Our mother died. Your hammer was taken from you and destroyed. Odin is gone. The Warriors Three-- some of your best friends-- were brutally murdered by your sister, not to mention the hundreds of Asgardians she slaughtered.” Thor started to turn his head, but Loki fisted his hand in Thor’s hair, holding him in place. “Your hair was cut, your eye gouged out, you even lost your side-human, Jane. And after all this, you had to make the hardest decision any ruler would have to make and destroyed your planet to save your race--” Loki released him, arms slack at his sides “--and you haven’t shed a single tear.” He turned away, violently kicking a metal trash can so it banged harshly against the wall. “But both times I ‘died’, you mourned for me.”

Thor studied the now dented trash can, then the floor at his feet, then lifted his gaze to squint at his brother. “So you want me to-- cry?”

Loki shrugged. “To cry, to scream, to fight--”

“You want me to throw a tantrum, like you.”

Loki strode back to Thor, nose-to-nose with him as he yelled, “I want you to throw a tantrum AT ME!” When Thor’s confused frown only deepened, Loki sighed. “You’re keeping all these emotions locked inside, but in typical Thor fashion, you’re not very good at it. Instead, they’re festering inside you, poisoning you, oozing out of you like a snail’s trail.” He punched Thor half-heartedly in the chest. “And, in typical Loki fashion, I keep stepping in it.”

Loki backed up to sit on the unmade king-sized bed, his forehead in his hands. Thor stayed where he was, unsure if Loki would attack again, unsure if he wanted to stick around for the rest of this conversation. But Loki was being vulnerable with him, something that Loki hadn’t done by choice in recent memory. So he stayed, staring at his brother, his weight on his heels in case he needed to bolt for the door.

“Remember when we were children?” Loki murmured.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Loki shot him a withering glance. “Whenever you would get caught doing something wrong, or a pet died, or something tragic happened you couldn’t comprehend, you would take it out on me.” He laughed once, dropping his hands to his lap. “I hated it at the time, of course. But you were always so relaxed after venting on me. I thought you were weak for needing to express your emotions, but I was secretly--” he pursed his lips and groaned, as if the words pained him to say, “--I was secretly glad you needed me to cope.”

Thor sighed. So this was all about Loki, after all. He rocked forward on his feet and sat next to him on the edge of the bed.

But Loki wasn’t finished. “When I ‘died’, I took joy in that you might be in pain. I thought you would break without me there to help you through it. But you didn’t, you came out stronger, because you had a support system. Jane, Odin, Hogan, Fandral, Volstagg, Sif, Heimdall, the Avengers--” he swallowed “--Mother. Especially Mother. They helped you through loss and built you up stronger than before.”

He looked over at Thor, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “But now, they are gone. I’m the only one left. Me, the false brother who’s hurt and betrayed you, whom you’ve forgiven too many times and don’t trust. So you think you don’t have any choice but to carry your burdens alone. You walk around with a smile like your whole world hasn’t been ruined ten times over, when the proof of it is on your face, right next to your nose.” Thor shook his head and pushed against the bed, ready to stand, but Loki caught his hand.

“Asgard needs a strong king, and suppressing your pain is weakening you, Thor. So I’m, you know--” he let go of Thor’s hand to hold his own, twiddling his thumbs. “--here. To help.”

Thor smiled. “Loki--”

“Don’t smile like that!” his brother snapped. “Don’t look at me with that eye patch on your face and smile like I’m the one that’s pitiful.”

Thor smiled wider, then yelped when Loki snatched a decanter from the nightstand and hit him with it.

“So basically, what you’re saying is,” Thor said between blows, “You’re here to listen if I need a shoulder to cry on.”

The blows came faster. “You weren’t even listening to me!” Loki protested.

“But your original plan,” Thor persisted, confiscating the decanter, “was to lure me into a fight, and then what? By the end I’d be miraculously healed of my depression and you’d be covered in bruises? Can you say ‘masochist?’”

Loki growled in frustration. “Well, when you put it that way--”

“It wouldn’t have worked.”

Loki frowned at Thor’s tight, resigned smile, and waited for the explanation.

“I know this is hard for you to accept, Loki, but I’m not the same as I was when we were children.” He tilted his head back to the high ceiling. “I was bloodthirsty and proud, reckless beyond excuse. You helped show me that.”

Loki blinked, his brow relaxing.

“But you’re right,” Thor continued, “I am weak. It’s been harder for me to concentrate, I’ve felt emotionally numb, and I double-think every decision I make. I hate myself for it. And you’re right that I need a support system to reestablish some sense of normalcy-- relative normalcy-- in my life.” He elbowed his brother. “But not a punching bag.”

“Well, if you ever need--” Loki swallowed, avoiding eye-contact, “--need someone to talk to, I would be honored to listen, and promise not to make light of the situation.”

Thor wrapped a strong arm around Loki’s shoulder and pulled him into a tight side-hug.

“And if you ever need to vent your vexations, brother,” he said, “I’d be willing to let you stab me. I don’t really mind.”

Loki tipped his head back and groaned. “Now that you’ve given me permission, it won’t be nearly as fun.”

For the first time in a long time, Thor genuinely laughed until he cried.

In the end, the best therapy Loki could give Thor is allowing him to act like an older brother. Thanks for reading.

[livinginlandmarketing]

Maurya Simon’s newest poetry volume, “The Wilderness,” was awarded the 2019 Benjamin Franklin Gold Medal in Poetry. (Courtesy of Jamie Clifford)

By Maurya Simons

Our hopes are reborn in spring, and as winter’s cold winds morph into April’s warming breezes, we may experience a quickening of our pulses, a lightening of our steps. But have no doubt: We’re aware of the preceding dark months through which we’ve suffered, of the myriad sorrows our nation’s endured during our still ongoing pandemic, with its attendant economic and social upheavals and our personal losses.

But humans are deeply resilient beings, and Californians are particularly adept at dealing with sudden perils and localized crises, whether freeway accidents, wildfires or power outages. Yet, despite weathering hard times, we still turn toward the horizon with hope.

Throughout history, poets have shown us how to do what we must: face adversity, recover, persevere and move forward. Take, for example, this eloquent haiku by the great 18th century Japanese poet Kobayashi Issa:

“Climb Mount Fuji

O snail

but slowly, slowly.”

Progress and healing take time and require strength, endurance and patience. Moving along our separate paths, we may retreat, but then square our shoulders and meet adversity again, head-on. Surprisingly, dangerous times and fearful circumstances may lead to sudden insights, as in this ancient Inuit song narrated by a fisherman adrift on frozen waters:

“And I thought over again

My small adventures

As with a shore-wind I drifted out

In my kayak

And thought I was in danger,

My fears,

Those small ones

That I thought so big

For all the vital things

I had to get and to reach.

And, yet, there is only

One great thing,

The only thing:

To live to see in huts and on journeys

The great day that dawns,

And the light that fills the world.”

Roman poet Horace also realized the importance of savoring each day’s golden moments: carpe diem, seize the day, he said.

In another poem, African American poet Lucille Clifton, who raised six children and knew hardship intimately, claims that self-possession and resolve helped her to endure life’s misfortunes:

“won’t you celebrate

with me,

what i have shaped into

a kind of life? i had no

model.

born in Babylon

both nonwhite and

woman

what did i see to be

except myself?

i made it up

here on this bridge

between

starshine and clay,

my one hand holding

tight

my other hand; come

celebrate

with me that everyday

something has tried to

kill me

and has failed.”

After every cataclysmic event in our country’s history, and amid ongoing social struggles, American poets have responded with honesty and conviction, sometimes consoling us, or calling us to action, or at other times urging us to heal. After 9/11, our poets expressed an outpouring of anger and grief, and a moving poem marking that tragic occasion is “September 12, 2001,” a brief testimonial by X.J. Kennedy:

“Two caught on film who hurtle

from the eighty-second floor,

choosing between a fireball

and to jump holding hands,

aren’t us. I wake beside you,

stretch, scratch, taste the air,

the incredible joy of coffee

and the morning light.

Alive, we open eyelids

on our pitiful share of time,

we bubbles rising and bursting

in a boiling pot.”

Our safety and quotidian joy may be fleeting, Kennedy suggests, but they buoy us temporarily, despite the dangerous world we inhabit.

President Biden has called our current efforts battling the coronavirus a “war,” bringing to mind “The War in the Air,” an elegy by World War II Army Air Force pilot Howard Nemerov commemorating the death of unseen thousands:

“For a saving grace, we didn’t see our dead,

Who rarely bothered coming home to die

But simply stayed away out there

In the clean war, the war in the air.

Seldom the ghosts came back bearing their tales

Of hitting the earth, the incompressible sea,

But stayed up there in the relative wind,

Shades fading in the mind,

Who had no graves but only epitaphs

Where never so many spoke for never so few:

Per ardua, said the partisans of Mars,

Per aspera, to the stars.

That was the good war, the war we won

As if there were no death, for goodness’ sake,

With the help of the losers we left out there

In the air, in the empty air.”

How do we honor those half-million “ghosts” — our fellow Americans — who couldn’t come home to die during the pandemic? Nemerov’s poem recalls the terrible toll all wars take, both for those who’ve perished and those left behind.

The plight of immigrants surging across our border to seek better lives brings to mind “Iraqi Nights,” a poignant poem by Iraqi-American poet Dunya Mikhail:

“We cross borders lightly

like clouds.

Nothing carries us

but as we move on

we carry rain,

and an accent,

and a memory

of another place.”

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Although haunted by those we’ve lost, the places we’ve left behind and past traumas, our spirits will rise again. “Hope is the thing with feathers,” Emily Dickinson reminds us, a powerful mantra for spring.

Maurya Simon’s newest poetry volume, “The Wilderness,” was awarded the 2019 Benjamin Franklin Gold Medal in Poetry.

-on April 07, 2021 at 12:43PM by Contributing Writer

[shuuenmatsuri]

@satsurikunotenshi

C-ta, A-ya, and Mermaid Swamp

Warnings for:

                Implied gore and cannibalism, Mermaid Swamp spoilers

-- @stolashoots

A pungent odor reaches his nose before any of his other senses return. It’s sweet and tangy, just like the scent that had wafted off of B-ko when A-ya found in that humid, damp room, her body flushed and bloated and so very cold. It’s the smell of death. For all of his particular interests in the cult and the suffering of humanity, A-ya wishes he didn’t know what this scent comes from.

This trip was meant to be just that, a break from school and the real world as they searched for the truth to frivolous myths, but now B-ko is rotting in her bed, and D-nee is face down in the kitchen after running rampant with a kitchen blade, and C-ta is, well…

The pounding in his head is the next thing that becomes clear, and then his memories of a dark figure bludgeoning him with something from behind. That makes it obvious that this isn’t just a case of a supernatural being or the girls just losing their shit; someone must have actively participated in the events of the last few days to have caused them. There’s no other explanation for this. There is no stupid mermaid curse, there’s just the old caretaker of that creepy house who’s been slinking around a bit too much for A-ya’s liking.

“Wake up,” a voice says, and A-ya does so. He opens his eyes and sees darkness. A hand touches his shoulder just as A-ya begins to stir. “Stay calm, and get up slowly. Otherwise, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

To take the advice or not? A-ya doesn’t recognize the voice and is unable to determine if the speaker is a friend or foe. He follows orders and takes a minute to compose himself, allowing his eyes to begin to adjust to what little light there is before he sits up.

He’s in some sort of cave or cavern, pitch black except for the soft glow of blinking electronics a few meters away from him. The air is heavy with the scent of death, though A-ya is unable to see the source. The limited amount of information that A-ya is able to gather tells him that he has no idea where he is.

Shifting behind him. A-ya turns his head and squints into the dark. There’s some sort of light source far in the distance, but it’s little more than a bright spot. It’s enough to prevent A-ya from seeing the face of the figure before him. He is outlined in hazy grey slightly less black than all of the black surrounding them. Not the old man, the figure stands too talk, and he is lithe body doesn’t have any chunk to it.

“…Where are we?” A-ya elects rather than admitting that he doesn’t know who’s with him.

“Under the lake. Don’t you remember? We found a hole and went to investigate.”

No, he doesn’t remember that at all. The last thing he can account for he and C-ta wandering around the old, decrepit house and searching for anything that could help them get out of here. “C-ta?”

“Yes, A-ya? I’m right here.” The figure says. Oh, so it’s not a stranger. A-ya can relax then, only he doesn’t. He was alone with C-ta when he was knocked out. They’ve been close friends for years, but then again, D-ne was kind to A-ya too up until she brandished a knife and tried to slice him open. A-ya can’t trust anyone other than himself.

“We need to get out of here,” A-ya murmurs, reaching out to grab what he thinks to be C-ta’s shoulder. “We can walk our way to the highway if we have to.” Anything to get away from this nightmare and the two bodies in the main house.

C-ta doesn’t speak for a long pause, and they stare at each other in the darkness. “Yeah,” he finally agrees. “Yeah, but I don’t think that’s possible. The curse, you remember?” A-ya shakes his head and C-ta sighs. “The mermaid’s curse. We’ve seen too much, and now we’re going to have to stay in this swamp for as long as we live.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” A-ya can’t stop the snap as he climbs to his feet. There is no curse, there are no mermaids. That was just some stupid rumor they fell for, that A-ya fell for, and now B-ko is dead and D-ne is dead, and who knows how he and C-ta are going to be able to reach civilization again.

A-ya stumbles in the dark until he touches a rock wall that has been sanded flat. He looks behind him, then forward again. “Which way’s the entrance?” And, when C-ta doesn’t respond, “I’ll leave you. I’ll just follow the light.” The small light miles and miles ahead flickers, but as long as A-ya takes it slow and stays calm, he’ll make it.

“That’s the wrong way,” C-ta mumbles and there’s shuffling as he gets up as well. He turns A-ya around towards the soft blinking lights. “If you want out, then we need to go this way.” They’re going in the opposite direction of what A-ya had expected, and this rubs them the wrong way. He still doesn’t know if he can trust C-ta.

C-ta was the only person who could have knocked A-ya out earlier, and he must have dragged A-ya all the way down here, too. C-ta has never meant A-ya any harm, but, well… Circumstances have proven that the situation has changed. A-ya will fight even C-ta if he must.

They walk at a snail’s pace, neither speaking, and then C-ta just stops, his hand on A-ya’s elbow forcing him to stop as well. “There’s something up ahead,” C-ta whispers.

“I thought you said this was the way out?!” A-ya charges forward until he smacks into something flat and smooth that stretches from wall to wall.

C-ta comes up next to him and leans against the barrier. “I… Sorry…”

“Great. Some help you are.” A-ya turns around and begins marching the other way, towards the little light, C-ta following at his heels. They walk and walk and walk and walk and-

Clang as A-ya hits something. He smacks his palm against whatever it is in frustration. “What the hell?” What are the chances that two paths of this terrible tunnel ends in something not rock? There must be another branch that A-ya had missed in the dark. He changes to the other wall and begins to retrace his steps, searching for whatever he missed last time.

He walks into the barrier.

C-ta sighs behind him. “I told you… It’s the curse. I’ve already tried, you’ll walk into something no matter what direction… There’s nothing you can do.”

“Bullshit. Help me break this.” There has to be something behind it.

On three, they ram into the barrier. It shudders and makes a weird noise. “Once more,” A-ya orders, and again they smash their bodies into it. Again, and again, and again, until their shoulders are aching and bruised.

After five attempts, C-ta groans and slides to the ground. “It’s no good. We’re just hurting ourselves.”

A-ya backs away. C-ta may be giving up, but he refuses to. He takes a different approach, feeling the barrier up and down, left and right, all four corners in hopes of finding something, anything, that would allow him access to get free.

He turns around and walks until he hits the barrier again. “C-ta?” If Izuku is correct, this wall should be far enough that C-ta won’t be able to hear A-ya’s mumbling-

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m right here.” C-ta is to A-ya’s left, exactly where he was before.

He tries three times more again, but no matter how A-ya walks away, he always ends up at the same place.

A-ya wipes the sweat from his brow and sits next to C-ta. “…We can’t get out of here, can we?”

“No. I tried while you were um, knocked out… right after I woke up here. I tried everything. It’s the curse.”

They sit in the cold silence. After a while, C-ta shifts over to lean against A-ya so they can share warmth. If C-ta is right, not that A-ya believes him, then this is the mermaid’s doing. They can’t take revenge on the men who stole them away, so now they are tormenting innocents caught in their grasp…

–

A-ya soon realizes that, while their deaths were tragic, B-ko and D-ne got off easy.

–

The glass tank shatters, releasing the preservatives and a large, stinking mass onto the ground. A-ya falls to his knees, dropping the bone he had used as a hammer. His bloody, torn up hands shaking as they dig into wet flesh.

Hunger consumes him. There are no other options.

[turnupswritessometimes]

SoRiku - Hearts of Fire and Ice Ch4

Title : Hearts of Ice and Fire

Word Count (for chapter three) : 3,079

Summary :  Prince Sora of the Destine Isles has been kidnapped by Maleficent. Held in a cell, he comes into contact with the Prince Maleficent has been training his whole life, Riku. As Sora unpicks Riku’s attitudes, Riku finds himself reconsidering everything he has been taught.

POSTING UNDER THE CUT BECAUSE TUMBLR DOESN’T LET OUTSIDE LINKS SHOW UP IN SEARCHES??!!

Chapter Four:

Riku hardly slept.

As soon as it was light enough to read, he slunk down to the library, a cloak pulled against him to try and keep away the chill that crept towards him like a dozen spiders.

It was empty. It was always empty. It was like the imps were allergic to knowledge.

Riku pulled out every history book that he could find, and scanned through them for any trace of a lie. Any truth in Sora's words.

He didn't find anything. Everything was as he had been told. Almost down to the word. There were no contradictions. So why-

Riku pulled Sora's necklace out of his pocket - his only other clue - the only physical clue he had. The chain was as thin as spider's silk. There was a pendant with a silver key. Riku had expected gemstones - diamonds - but it was modest. There were no intricate carvings. Just a key. What the hell was he meant to do with it? What door could he possibly open?

"A bit of light reading, your highness?" a silky voice asked from behind him, spitting out the words like they left a vile taste in his mouth.

"There's nothing wrong with revision, Jafar," Riku replied just as coolly, shoving the necklace into his pocket and standing up from the table. Books now covered every inch of the wood in his haste for answers. "The pen is mightier than the sword."

Jafar was standing by the door, watching him like he was a wild animal. He had long since learnt how to return the look. They kept each other's eye contact as Riku stood. A game of dominance.

A game Riku didn't have time for.

He started forwards, and Jafar slammed the door shut.

Riku paused, evaluating Jafar. There was the familiar nasty glint and sneer of a smile. It was so hard to tell when these people were scheming something in particular, or if they were just scheming in general.

"The counsel broke their meeting up last night. What are you still doing here?" Riku asked. He fought not to show the nerves on his face. To make it look like he wasn't doing anything wrong.

"It seems a promotion is in the air. Maleficent wants someone with a shred of intelligence by her side," Jafar said. His hand still held the door shut.

"We both know who that's going to be," Riku replied, starting forward. This was all a game to psych him out. Through him off of his game.

Jafar's smile increased.

A bird cried from behind Riku, and alighted on Jafar's shoulder.

It was only when he saw the glimmering chain in the bird's beak that his heart lurched. He had already stepped forward before he had covered his expression with indifference.

Jafar looked at him, then at the chain hanging from the infernal parrot's beak slowly. Teasingly, he took the necklace in his long fingers, examining it with the eyes of a greedy merchant.

Riku crossed his arms, and pretended that the whole affair bored him.

"Well, it looks like someone's paid a visit to his pet," Jafar said.

"Visit to his pet," the parrot repeated mockingly. Riku could have throttled it.

"Ah, Iago, I could have sworn Maleficent told us to make sure the Prince doesn't go to the cells."

"I didn't. That's mine," Riku lied, his tone unfeeling and impassive. He held his hand out, the way Maleficent did when she wanted something. It usually worked for him too.

"Oh, I don't think so," Jafar continued to examine the necklace. Painfully slowly. "Her highness took a very similar chain from you when you arrived here. Why, the only other people who have this would be the crown Prince of the Destine Isles and the King's Ward."

Riku's heart skipped a beat. His hand wavered in the air.

Why would he...?

Jafar's eyes glittered at him, still able to read him like a book after all these years.

"You didn't know?" Jafar asked. He stroked the preening parrot. Riku felt it was smirking at him as well. "Of course, Maleficent wouldn't want you to know. Who you really are, what this unlocks...she needs you to believe her every word."

"And you know more than her?" Riku asked.

"Oh no," the necklace swung from Jafar's fingers like a pendulum. "I'm just willing to tell you the truth."

He couldn't trust Jafar.

Could he even trust Maleficent?

It wouldn't hurt to evaluate the information…it would be the smart thing to do.

He knew this game, it was a game of bargaining.

He let his hand fall back to his side, and drew himself to his full height. He still looked like a child next to the willowy sorcerer.

"What do you want for it?" he demanded. "For the information and to keep your mouth closed."

"Oh, I'll keep quiet. What you decide to do with the Prince is your business. I know the allure of royalty in chains," Jafar said. He seemed to relish in the angry blush that spread up Riku's cheeks at the suggestion. He stepped forward, evaluating Riku. "I'll keep quiet if you keep quiet. After all, if you told Maleficent that I was in league with you, I would be-" Jafar ran a finger across his neck, and the bird gulped.

"I'm not in league with you," Riku said. "You're not on my side."

"But that's part of my deal," Jafar give an oily chuckle. He circled Riku, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders. "You work for me. You give me information about Maleficent - what she's planning, her weaknesses. Recommend me to her, and I'll tell you anything your heart desires."

He was whispering in Riku's ear now, coiled around him like a snake. Riku kept his eyes fixed on the door. It would be easy to leave.

So easy…

"I'll even teach you magic," Jafar continued. "I can train you to be so much more than she's let you." It was a tempting offer. To gain his own power. He had no doubt that he could overpower Jafar. "Of course, when the time comes I'll need you to off that little Prince, and be my assassin."

If he waited too long, the opportunity would be gone. He would have to act now.

It would get Sora out of his life. No more confusion.

Just more power.

"Deal," Riku said.

"Cross your heart." Jafar's voice was soft. Teasing.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Riku spat.

He gasped in pain. It felt as though his chest had been stabbed. Flames burned under his body, bubbling like acid in his throat.

He fell to his knees, and through streaming eyes saw Jafar drop the necklace in front of him.

"I shall see you this afternoon. It's a pleasure doing business with you, Prince Riku," Jafar said disdainfully as he stepped over him. The parrot sounded as though it was laughing.

Riku remained on the floor, one hand clutching at his chest, trying to claw the pain away.

It started to ebb, and his fingers shook as he unlaced his doublet.

There were two raw cuts on his chest; a cross over his heart.

It was just something to scare him, Riku reasoned. It was to scare him into doing what Jafar asked.

The cuts still throbbed.

He watched the Prince again. He was stood at the bars of his cell. A dog waiting for it's owner to return home. The hole had been abandoned.

Riku sighed, and placed the mirror to one side. He headed down to Jafar's chambers. The long way around. The route that took him past the corridor of Sora's cells.

He paused as he heard the Prince's voice.

"Is Prince Riku coming today? I still have to kick his butt at fencing."

"The Prince isn't allowed down here any more. Queen's orders." A guard cackled.

So she had told everyone. Riku despised her for making him seem like a child. For getting everyone to laugh at his mistakes.

"But what is he doing here? He's not a monster. He's from the Destine Isles too."

The guard only cackled again, and Riku headed past them, shuddering at the thought.

He didn't bother to knock as he entered Jafar's rooms. The air was thick with purple smoke, and the sorcerer had crumbling books propped open. His parrot was running on a bike to power the whole thing.

Riku made sure to jolt the table the bike balanced on as he passed it.

"So, tell me, what's that key?" he demanded.

Jafar actually jumped, and Riku felt triumph glimmer in his heart.

"Prince Riku, I didn't hear you come in. So like your queen," Jafar murmured, he didn't turn.

"Answer me," Riku repeated.

"The necklace is a sign of the highest royal trust. It is what the King gives only his most trusted allies. The Prince, of course. His ward - and the Captain of the Guard." Jafar said. He crumbled a leaf into the potion at a snail's pace.

"What does that have to do with me?" Riku demanded.

"So impatient," Jafar murmured, but he looked up and gave Riku a cunning smile. A cat who has the cream. "The Captain of the Guard gave that necklace to his son."

Riku felt numb.

"No," he murmured.

"Yes," Jafar replied. His eyes glittered at Riku's horror. "Of course, when the Captain of the Guard was lost to the plague, and his son went missing tragically…the army was disbanded. Before any fighting even occurred."

"No," Riku couldn't feel his mouth. Swarms of accusations - thoughts he never thought he could have - stung his brain. "You're lying."

"Ask your Prince," Jafar replied, with a smug shrug.

"I will," Riku snapped. He stormed from the room.

There was no way - it would mean - he wasn't - he couldn't have been -

It was only when he had slammed the door closed that he realised he had played right into Jafar's trap.

But at least he wouldn't tell anyone where Riku was going. Jafar was a snake, but he usually kept his deals if there was something in it for him.

Riku made a stop at his room, snatching up a garnet ring he had had for years, he tossed it at the guards. He could barely breathe. Barely stop to think.

"Leave for fifteen minutes, and it's yours." He said.

Thankfully, they were more loyal to shiny objects than to Maleficent, and were scurrying down the hallway in a matter of seconds. He waited until they disappeared, then pulled the necklace from his pocket again.

"What is this?" he demanded, showing the pendant to the Prince, who still had his face pressed against the bars.

"Can I have it back?" Sora asked, making a grasp through the bars.

Riku jerked it out of reach.

"Not until you tell me what it is," he said.

Sora rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically.

"It's a token of the King's. A sign of favour - and…" Sora trailed off as he looked at Riku. Deciding whether to trust him. He gave a small shake of his head - no way - and continued. "My friend had one too - his father gave it to him, but he vanished after the last Guard Captain… that boy was also called Riku."

Riku frowned, considering the necklace. The Prince watched him with big blue eyes. They felt like they were boring into his skull. But the stories matched.

How could the stories match?!

He fell back against the wall, his head whirring. Who he really was. From the Destine Isles.

His brain was failing to work.

"Riku, are you happy here?" the Prince broke Riku from the hive of his mind.

Riku looked up. The cut on the Prince's head had almost healed, but he looked paler and thinner than when they had first met.

"I will be," Riku said. It didn't matter. It didn't. "Once I'm Maleficent's right hand man."

Sora's eyes softened. There was that sickening look of pity.

"She sure has everyone here wrapped around her finger, huh?" he said.

Riku flung the necklace through the bars like it had burnt him.

But then he was coming through the doors.

"You couldn't have made it easy, could you?" he hissed. Sora scrabbled to fasten the necklace around his neck. "You had to come in and start sprouting tales - and just muddying everything - and - and undoing everything!"

"You believe me?" Sora asked, staring at Riku's rage hopefully. It only fuelled the fire.

"No! Yes! I don't know!" Riku yelled. He clutched his hair in his hands. "I. Can't. I can't."

"Riku," Sora's voice was soft. His fingers pressed over Riku's gently. "Please believe me. Maleficent spread the plague. Your father was our Captain. It's the truth."

Riku shook his head. He felt shame rear it's malformed head in his stomach as he whimpered. This wasn't happening to him. This was a dream.

"She took you from the Destine Isles and raised you here - I guess as a weapon against us. It…definitely made an impression…but you belong by my side." Sora continued.

"I can't - I can't -" he muttered. "I'm not a monster." His fists clenched, and Sora's touch disappeared. "You don't know anything about me."

"But I do," Sora said. Like he was coaxing a lion not to bite him. He reached towards Riku's face, and Riku flinched away. The very tips of Sora's fingers rested on his cheeks. He froze at the contact - the soft contact - and Sora looked him in the eye. "I've seen your eyes before. In dreams."

Riku stared at the Prince. Sora's lips were curved upwards slightly, but his eyes were full of sorrow. Wisdom. He looked much older than sixteen in that moment.

"I know your name is Riku," Prince Sora continued. His fingers twitched slightly on Riku's skin. Riku wanted to shy away, to run, but he was held by Sora's gaze. Like a spell. "I know you have a bad temper, and that you're a sore loser, but that deep down you're actually very kind." Sora's thumb nudged the edge of his lip and he stiffened. Sora's expression only grew more melancholy. "I know that you've never known love here."

"Maleficent loves me," Riku murmured. His hands closed over Sora's wrists, ready to push them away, but he didn't.

"Then why do you flinch?" Sora whispered. His fingers twitched, and Riku threw him away from him, pressing himself defensively against the door. 'Don't let people get close. You always get hurt in the end.'

Sora stumbled, then crossed his arms against his chest, like he was holding himself together.

"I -" Riku started. He squeezed his eyes shut to stop his head from spinning. "I don't know what to think."

"It's okay," Sora murmured. "You'll see soon enough."

"Why would she lie to me?" Riku demanded, but he didn't expect Sora to have the answers.

Sora shrugged.

"If you were the one attacking us...I know we wouldn't be able to resist. My father wouldn't be willing to risk you." He said. He looked up at Riku, and smiled slightly. "And I wouldn't be able to either."

"You're crazy," Riku shook his head. "You - and your - dreams."

"I'm not prophetic like Kairi - but - I do have dreams about the past," the Prince said.

Riku shook his head again, now unsure whether to laugh. Sora had to be lying. He was insane.

"It's true - it's like looking into a magic mirror," he said.

"So tell me where I was last week," Riku said.

"It doesn't work like that," Sora mumbled.

Riku gave a sharp bark of a laugh. This was all nonsense.

"Okay, your majesty," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"The point still stands that I was right. Our country is not responsible for the plague," Sora said.

Riku couldn't argue with that. Jafar was telling him the same things.

None of this made sense.

"Well, look, I have to-"

"Go?" Sora raised an eyebrow. "You usually do when you feel uncomfortable."

"I have to go because I can't be caught here again," Riku hissed.

The Prince took a step back. He frowned.

"You said before…you were in trouble because of me…" he said slowly.

Riku rolled his eyes – did he even need to grace that with an answer?

"So why do you keep coming?" Sora asked.

The Prince stared at him with innocent eyes. Like a puppy. But there was a small, knowing smile on his face. Like he already knew the answer. Like a cat.

Maybe he was a kitten after all.

"Because," Riku stumbled for an excuse. "I – I want to show you you're wrong."

Sora covered his mouth with his hand, but it was too late. Riku had heard the laugh.

"I'm serious!" he snapped. Trying to turn the ice back on, but heat was creeping across his cheeks.

"I think you're starting to believe me," Sora said.

Riku opened the door of the cell silently. It was too late. No matter what he said now, he couldn't redeem himself. Best to leave before anything else happened.

"I'll tell you about my dream tonight!" Sora hissed through the bars of the cell. "And you'll believe me then."

"Not likely," Riku muttered to himself, but his stomach lurched.

They both knew he was lying.

[shadowedgarden]

From the Hunters, Among the Hunted

Chapter 3: Let the Fun Begin!

Warning: dead person at for short time near end, in case that is of concern to any.

Ch. 1: Welcome, Please Try not to Die || Ch. 2: The Desolate City

An objective is quite a helpful and welcome distraction.  After a brief scan to make sure you know what direction to head, noting quickly that you are already fairly close, you start off.  The next two rooms are filled with shadows due to the room above.  As your eyes adapt to the darkness, a vaguely irritated smile appears on your face.  You wonder if it would kill them to make less puzzles and traps that require falling.  Probably.  The exit is blocked by spikes, another common choice it seems, with six patches of falling ground spaced through the room.  You swiftly approach the closest on your right, wanting to get it over with.  The drop is not actually as far as you thought it would be, and you are beginning to adapt to these traps.  That doesn’t mean bracing helps all that much yet.  In the room below you find a faded old strip of scarlet fabric that was gorgeous when it was new.  It is used to tie back hair.  The wind must have blown it down here, the stone protecting it from too much wear.

You tie it into a bow and put it in your hair.  

Monsters won’t hit you as hard if you’re cute.  Pity the same cannot be said of humans.  

You climb up the shaft, a bit slower than with earlier ones due to having to navigate by feel alone; this time trying the pitfall to the left when you emerge.  You forget to brace, lungs getting their breath knocked out of them.  As you push yourself up, you wince.  You definitely gained at least a bruise from this.  You start feeling around for a switch, eventually finding it on the wall near the shaft, at around your head height.  You pull it, hearing the tell tale grinding of spikes retreating into the floor, and crawl back out and leave the room.  Luckily the spike barrier in the next doorway is also down, because you can’t see well enough to do anything other than bumble blindly around in there.  That does mean, though, that you have no idea what the three signs mean when they say “If you can see this”.  It takes you a bit of messing around and having your heart skip from the surprise drops for you to figure out the north sign will actually assist you, rather than drop you with no warning.  After that you figure the next such rooms out with ease.  You carefully step over a tangle of vines, glancing down the path towards the house, and, figuring you have a bit of time until Toriel arrives, step over another such tangle and move to a lookout that was previously obscured from your vision.  Making sure you stay well clear of the edge, you look up.  

The crumbling ruins of this once great city spreads before you, many times larger than you could have imagined.  Compared to this the village is tiny.  You can just see the ocean sparkling on the far side of the mountain, the forest cutting off the city just before it reaches the water and covering the mountain with a thick green coat.  Snow drifts off the top on a wind that doesn’t reach you, shimmering as it dissipates into its carrier.  Down in the ruins there is a scattering of camp-fires from the hunters.  Most tend to attack during the day, but once in awhile a squad will get drunk and start wandering around during the night.  Filthy creatures.  Some of the buildings have crumbled, while some others are relatively untouched, and vines seem to be the primary inhabitants now.  There are a dozen more areas that have fallen into the same type of almost-haunted seeming clearing like you saw earlier.  The once strong barricades and towering walls that had once protected the city are hardly recognizable now, where they are still standing at all that is.  In the distance and scattered among the forest are a few stray towns and farms, as well as one or two on the coast, all of which are also abandoned and overgrown, barely a single structure of which is visible from here.  Anything near the edge of the ruins is completely overgrown, to the point where you can hardly even tell where the city used to end.  Overshadowing the crumbling remains is the overgrown wreckage of a castle.  Even from here it is possible to see the flowers overflowing out of the courtyards, as well as the vines that consume all that still stands.  In one of the spires that has only partially collapsed, dozens of bed-frames sit exposed to the elements, the vines just starting to obscure them from view.  The vines had trapped some of the rubble, and as you watch a piece comes loose and tumbles to the ground.  Everything of value was ransacked a long time ago.  Near the base of the castle resides a circle of light from a human camp.  You glance down, checking the distance to the edge again.  Its steepness unnerves you, and this is not exactly the most inconspicuous of places to stand.  A stick stares back at you- not literally, calm down-, nearly touching your feet, positioned almost as though trying to remind you of Toriel’s house.  You pick it up and head back, shuffling through the leaves, and enter the front yard.  You hear her footsteps moments before she rounds the large tree directly in front of you.

“There you are, my child!  I was beginning to worry you had gotten lost.”  Toriel beams, then mutters too herself, slightly to quietly for you to catch.  At a volume clearly meant for you to hear she adds,

“Please, come inside.”

She turns to head in, a little bit of dust falling off her clothes as she does so.  For some reason that seems a bit more tragic than you think it should.  She looks slightly more tired than when you last saw her, regardless of the cheerfulness she has plastered on.  You follow, pausing at another Save star just before you enter.  You emerge into a hallway, with stairs that disappear down to the left on the other side of the room, and doorways to either side of you.  Through the left you can see a large table and through the right, more hallway.  A bookcase and flowers are to either side of the stairway.

She takes your hand and leads you down the right hall, stopping at the first door.

“You must be exhausted, so go right ahead and get some rest, it will take me a few days to arrange anything anyway.  I will leave you to get comfortable, if you need anything just call.  You can stay here until I can arrange for someone to pick you up, this is no place for a child.  Your room is this way.”  

You enter the room without bothering to see where she goes.  Against the right wall is his bed, with a toy-box at it’s foot and a wardrobe beside it.  The only other things to adorn the room are a drawing of a golden flower on the wall, a seemingly broken light source in the far left corner, and a single fabric doll on the bed.  Once you sit down on the bed, exhaustion washes over you.  You have never slept in this nice of a bed before.  It overrides your hunger, and you drop your backpack beside the bed, instantly drifting into an uneventful slumber.

By the time you awaken the sun has set again, and the delicious aroma of fresh baked pie has drifted tentatively through the room.  Groggily, you remember that you forgot to eat before you fell asleep, your stomach deciding that stabbing you is an appropriate reminder.  How nice of it.  You slowly roll over to grab a snack from your pack, and see that Toriel has left you a slice of pie a safe distance from the bed.  That explains the aroma.  You drop your feet onto the floor and pick up the snail pie.  …It’s an acquired taste.  You slip it into your pack anyway, just in case you need it later; then pull out food more to your tastes, and sling your bag over your shoulder, ready to explore.  Before you leave, you check the wardrobe, finding only a bunch of striped sweaters, and merely glance at all the cool toys in the toy box before deeming them uninteresting.  

You drift to the next room over, opening the door to find a bed against the corner opposite you, a desk between it and the door, and a wardrobe and bookshelf in the far corner.  Aside from a yellow flower and some broken crayons atop the bookshelf, and a diary and some pens on her desk, the room lacks anything smaller than a chair.  The bed is one of the largest ones you’ve seen.  You open the diary, which doesn’t look like it’s written in frequently, to a random page.  It seems to be an old one.

“If I were a dog, what breed of dog would I be?    A Momeranian!”

Jokes like this must be how she stays sane now.  You close the book and leave.  There is nothing more to look at here. 

As the only other door in this hall is broken, you head over to the other side of the house.  The doorway you saw earlier opens into the dining room, which doubles as a living-room.  To the right sits a fireplace, with a gentle fire burning in it, a bookshelf filled with worn books sitting to its right, and to its left a reading chair and a doorway to what can be assumed as the kitchen.  The place has a distinct sturdy feel, the damage being minimal with an essentials only attitude.  Toriel is asleep in the chair, with a book in her lap.  You plan to let her sleep, as she must need the rest, however, her phone doesn’t seem to agree with you, and she is up near instantaneously.  As she heads for the door she sees you, directing you towards the books and saying she will be back soon.  You spend the next several hours exploring the little left of the house you hadn’t seen, eventually settling down to read.  

You end up back at the spot overlooking the ruins, sitting cross-legged a few meters from the edge.  Throughout the night,  Toriel has yet to return for any interval longer than forty minutes, during which grabbing some shut-eye seemed to be her immediate priority; voluntary or not.  She just left again, in fact.  A monster candy rolls around in your mouth, slowly filling it with its distinctly non-licorice taste.  It’s the only monster food you’ve found so far that doesn’t just dissolve into a burst of flavour and energy upon entering your mouth, but only if you focus on making sure it doesn’t.  You had found a bowl full of them on Toriel’s table earlier and took a handful with you.  You finally discovered the real reasons why the village wanted the monsters dead, thanks to the books, and your mind mulls it over from time to time.  Fear, greed, and power have forever been the easiest way to get into a fight.   A yawn interrupts your thoughts just as the sun starts to lighten the horizon.  You should probably get some sleep.  You wander back to your room, eyes fluttering a little, and crawl into bed, drifting gently into familiar darkness once more.

A child walks through the forest, only a slight limp remaining of their twisted ankle.  It’s a quiet morning, the sun yet to lighten the horizon.  They know exactly how to avoid the guards and enter unnoticed. After all, they’ve been observing the area for a week or so just for this trip.  They soften their footsteps as they approach, pulling their hood up and obscuring them-self.  The people wore this sort of thing all the time in colder weather, and the child went unnoticed as they slipped through the village towards their house, hardly a soul even conscious.  When they reached the house, they slipped through the window of their younger sister’s room.  Their sister, however, was absent.  They swiftly located her diary, she hadn’t changed its hiding spot while they were away, and looked at the last entry for some sort of hint as to where she might be.  The writing was abnormally smudged, as though she had been writing in a great hurry.  From what was decipherable, it seemed their sister had overheard some guards mention seeing them with the monsters.  That had been the last piece of evidence needed to convince her that the village leader was evil, and she had been planning the kill for a few weeks.  She put it into action the morning prior.

A dread crept over the child as they realized this.  Their sister was too young.  She was the last shred of hope they had for humanity.  They slipped back out, heading towards the leader of the idiots’ residence.  When the house came into view, they stopped short.  They didn’t want to believe their eyes.  Pinned outside of the house by stakes through her shoulders, hung their sister, covered in dried blood.  In life, she had been the most beautiful person the child had every known, both inside and out.   Now she had been reduced to a desecrated, mangled, and shredded sack of flesh and bones.  She was hanging out in the open as a warning to any others that might be thinking about trying to kill the family.  She had been dead for several hours.  On the ground beside her lay the red ribbon the child had given her.  They approached, shaking, tied the strip of fabric around their arm, and took their sister down gently.  They piled her fallen pieces back into her corpse and carried her slightly stiff body into the woods for a proper funeral.  The only thing the child could see was red.

You awake to Toriel entering the room.  She sounds haggard.

“Oh good, you are awake.  Please gather your things and meet me by the door downstairs as soon as you can.”

She disappears from the doorway, presumably to wait for you at the door.  You pull a sheet off the bed, shoving it into your pack, and tie the ribbon into your hair, pretending you never had the dream, and head to the door with a piece of dried meat in your mouth.  The sun has set again.  You pause at the top of the stairs, looking back at the rest of the house.  You would not mind staying, you think, and the realization fills you with determination, a Save star at the bottom of the stairs channelling and amplifying the feeling.  Toriel is pretty nice too, almost to the point of making you wish she were your mom.  You soon turn the last corner, coming to a stop before Toriel and a large, solid, door.  Apparently, the humans appeared to be getting abnormally close to the house last night, and she suspects that the little safety it had might be compromised.  The best plan of action would be if you left, while she stays behind.

After all, she is here for a reason.  

“Take this,” she says, holding out a slip of paper.  “Show it to the first person you meet, they will bring you to Asgore.”  You refuse, stating that you will stay with her, and if she wants you to leave she must come too.  

“My child, please, he will take good care of you.”

Again you refuse.  You are being foolish.  She stands there for a moment, her face an expressionless mask, mulling over her options.  The distance between the two of you closes almost instantaneously, her arm brushing your shoulder as you skitter to the side.  You will not be that easy to catch, both of you know that.  She sighs, and a ping echoes around the hall as she pulls forth your soul.  This really does not seem debatable.  

“This is your last chance to leave on your own.  Please little one, stop being so stubborn,” she implores you one final time.  Immovable in your decision, you shake your head.  No.

Flames dance across Toriel's fingertips, growing into fireballs that she sends flying towards the child’s soul.  Warning shots.  Their focus sharpens, fingers twitching as they will their soul to dodge.  They notice a slight difference with how it responds.  They test a theory, surprise lighting up their eyes as the precision their fingers grant is realized.  The flames stop, giving the child a chance to leave, and they flick their soul over to ACT.  The CHECK reads:

*TORIEL  80 ATK  80 DEF *Knows best.

Their soul returns to the box, flames falling like rain.  Not ready for anything more than the warning, a fireball smashes into the child’s soul.  A wave of worry, lifetimes of loneliness, and sparks of hope crash down on them, stunning them for a few seconds and placing strain on the soul’s connection.  They recover, soul blinking back, just as Toriel ends her attack.  Yet the child stays.  The flames return, oscillating, trapping their soul against the wall, the damage washing over them again.  Still they refuse to run.  They ACT, choosing to TALK; if she is so lonely, why force them to leave?  She ignores them.  The fireballs comes in arcs, the child managing to dodge them all for the first time.  The cycle repeats for the next few turns: dodge, talk fruitlessly, dodge and still get hit, and after a few minutes give up on verbal protest.  Eventually, when the soul’s connection to the body was feeble, the flames subside, and she opens her mouth to try diplomacy one last time.  Before she can speak, a shout echoes down the hall, originating from a pair of humans.  Toriel whirls around, seizing the child’s arm and launching them out, the others having distracted them.

“I will catch up to you if I can.  Go.”  A hollow BOOM resounds through the tunnel as the door slams shut.

The tunnel is pitch dark, other than the torch on the wall.  It is impossible to tell how far it runs at this point.  You pick up the torch, then look back at the door.  The only thing you can do for Toriel now is hope.  The ground shifts softly behind you, and you turn to face it.

“Just cause you fooled her, don’t think you’ve fooled me.  I know what you are.”  It’s Flowey.  He looks about as grim as a flower can get.  "I’m watching you, soul-thief,“ he spits out.

His visit is decidedly ended as he disappears back into the earth, leaving you to climb up the tunnel by yourself.  Have fun with the hike.

[torentialtribute]

Ike Ibeabuchi – the tragic tale of ‘boxing’s most dangerous man’

Ike Ibeabuchi kidnapped the 15-year-old his girlfriend from his estranged girlfriend and was one night in 1997 and rode with him on Interstate 35 in Austin. car when I decided to ram him into a concrete pillar in an attempt to end everything.

Ibeabuchi was only 24, a heavyweight boxer at the height of his powers, but who was slowly being consumed by his inner demons. He was torn away from the rubble, covered with blood and dust, with big eyes and raging, he thought he had ended his nightmare.

It was only a few months after he had surpassed David Tua in an epic battle that still has the record for the most punches thrown in a heavyweight competition (1,730). The victory had struck him in a fight for a world title fight. He had come a step closer to emulate his hero Mike Tyson

Ike Ibeabuchi stood on the eve of the big boxing

Ike Ibeabuchi stood 20 years ago on the edge of big boxing

<img id = "i-f03b8429ef74738d" src = "https://ift.tt/2TACWYE 9858050-6708241-image-m-5_1550232140520.jpg "height =" 729 "width =" 470 "alt =" But his life was unraveled because of his mental illness "class =" blkBorder "

Ike Ibeabuchi was

Ike Ibeabuchi was on the verge of boxing great time 20 years ago, but his life unraveled due to his mental illness

But that dream would only be a carrot dangling for him;

As it was the torturing months and years of persistent headaches, hearing voices and seeing demons that followed his victory over the highly regarded who would eventually frustrate him of his fulfilling potential.

It drove him to a kidnapping on that fateful night in Austin, where two lives were changed forever. The boy in the passenger seat of Ibeabuchi & # 39; s car sustained serious injuries and would never walk the same again. Ibeabuchi was sentenced to 120 days imprisonment for false imprisonment and forced to pay $ 500,000 in a civilian settlement.

Ibeabuchi served his time and returned to the ring in the following year, winning two comfortable wins over modest opponents to extend his flawless record to 19-0. On March 20, 1999, Ibeabuchi – despite being a broken man inside, tortured and converted daily by his alter ego & # 39; The President & # 39; – he really announced himself on the world stage with a spectacular victory against Olympic silver medalist Chris Byrd.

& # 39; I am now ready, I am ready for the heavyweight world championship & # 39 ;, I then declared in the ring. One of the nodding heads agreed. Few would argue that he was not. Some even claimed that he would blow away the rulers of the division at the time, Lennox Lewis and Evander Holyfield, that it would not even be a competition that he would just have to appear to win a world title.

This was his 20th consecutive victory – and so far most impressive – since his professional, who had all come to an American audience – the place to be an upcoming heavyweight in the 90s. Ibeabuchi, it seemed, was destined to reach the absolute top in the blue-riband division of boxing. But it should not be.

Instead, it was here, just as he had created new heights, that his career slipped away, descended into darkness, and was at the mercy of the footnotes of heavyweight history. ]

Nine years earlier, Ibeabuchi was just getting ready to start his boxing trip. Initially he had hoped to become a soldier at the Nigerian Defense Academy, but that dream was thrown away after spending the night with his uncle. & # 39; 42 -1 & # 39; underdog James & # 39; Buster & Douglas shakes up the boxing world by stopping Mike Tyson in 10 laps to capture the heavyweight title. He was immediately addicted.

His home was Isuochi, an area of ​​Umunneochi in southeastern Nigeria. But for Ibeabuchi it was necessary to leave his home country and travel to America to fulfill his ambition to become a professional boxer. I grew up with a little to appreciate and decided to leave. I knew that as a teenager I was driving across the Atlantic with his mother, Patricia, who had acquired a job as a nurse in Dallas

Ibeabuchi was dedicated to his handiwork and would not spend most of his days in boxing school Spending far away from his house to improve his skills. He was gifted with natural, devastating power and quickly established the fierce reputation, noting remarkable victories as an amateur. He won the Golden Gloves in the Dallas and Texas State tournaments in the heavyweight category in 1994 and defeated Duncan Dokiwari, who would advance to bronze medalist for Nigeria at the 1996 Olympic Games in Atlanta, before turning to paid ranks [19459003

The Ring Magazine suggested that he could become a big heavyweight "class = blkBorder img-share"

The Ring Magazine suggested that he

The Ring Magazine suggested that he

Thousands of thousands of home, in a downtown, filthy Louisiana convention center on October 13, 1994, Ibeabuchi made his professional debut for no more than 100 people.

He won 16 victories in the trot before he started competing in the class against New Zealander, three years after his first fight. At this point I was the bill for 10,000 spectators in California.

IKE IBEABUCHI FACTFILE

] [19459]

worth. Ibeabuchi was sensational, impressive with his relentless attacks and progressive style. The two went off in a slug festival with fans on the edge of their seats and applause on their feet as the end. Ibeabuchi took a unanimous decision victory.

He tried to kill himself months later and began to act more capriciously as time went on. I have the nickname & # 39; The President & # 39; taken from fans and glorified in that name. Sometimes he believed that this was his real identity and would insist that people give him & # 39; president & # 39; called. His late promoter Cedric Kushner said: & # 39; It was his alter ego, where & # 39; I am not the president of the United States, but perhaps the president of the world.

In the ring everything was fine still going to be planned while outside things are falling apart. Ibeabuchi earned a position at the front of the line to challenge the world title after the brutal suppression of Byrd in 1999, but would never catch up with that opportunity – or fight again for that matter.

Shortly thereafter, he was accused of sexually abusing a dancer he had hired from a local escort service to come to his room in a hotel in Las Vegas. The 21-year-old woman told the police that she had tried to rap her in the closet when she asked for money in advance. When the police arrived, Ibeabuchi had barricaded himself in the bathroom and only came out after police had used pepper spray under the door.

He denied the allegations and was initially released and placed under house arrest to allow him to train and fight while awaiting trial. Cases were exacerbated by the reopening of an earlier case of assault against him. The incident occurred eight months earlier at the Treasure Island Hotel and Casino. He was arrested again and detained after a number of similar allegations came to light in Arizona.

] His fight against your set to remember I am a researcher by medical experts and amid the fear of his mental state before the procedure for his interrogation. [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

He was transferred to a state-owned medical facility and was violently medicated for eight months with the permission of the judge. He was later considered competent to initiate a plea and agreed to submit an Alford plea – which in US law means that one pleads guilty without admitting to commit the crime on the grounds that the evidence is unfavorable to the accused.

The belief rocked the boxing world, but no more. The conviction rocked the boxing world, but no more than his mother did. Ike was all she had and her punishment left her. However, she was adamant that he was innocent, and insisted that he had fallen victim to an evil conspiracy. She claimed that promoters had tapped their phones, broke into their homes, put chemicals into all of their food, and had paid and paid women to bring accusations of sexual violence against her son.

Ibeabuchi was undefeated after 20 fights, winning the WBC International heavyweight title, before being sent to prison "Ibeabuchi was undefeated after 20

Ibeabuchi was undefeated after 20 fights, winning the WBC International heavyweight title before being sent to prison "

Fighting, winning the WBC International heavyweight title before being sent to prison

He wrote in a letter six years after the verdict: & # 39; Cedric Kushner chased Ike to renew his contract with him, Ike informed Cedric that I need to look around to better understand what his value was and if he fit it that he will continue with him. Cedric was not happy with this because I knew he had underpaid Ike while other promoters and managers were very interested in Ike because of his promising boxing career. Managers and promoters do not want boxers to negotiate deals;

& # 39; Because of these dealers and their methods, we had to leave Dallas and move to Arizona to take refuge. Unfortunately they followed us to this situation and the nightmare went on. They have overheard our phones, forced themselves into our house, put chemicals into all of our food and drink and they would turn off our house alarm and our house any time of the day or

& # 39; These promoters are so went a long way to fly and make false accusations against Ike in Gilbert and Scottsdale while living with me in the same house, paying a few women to accuse him of attempting kidnapping and assault. The police investigated these charges and threw them away because there was no basis for these charges against him.

She also claimed that she was not mentally ill and the proper legal representation was denied, adding in her letter: "Ike has never really been tried or convicted for these false accusations or allegations." The Las Vegas court sent Ike to the Reno psychiatric hospital for evaluation, but before his arrival, the staff had been told that Ike was dangerous, crazy, and many other suggestions that frightened the staff about coming. When Ike arrived at the hospital, the staff discovered that these statements were not even that close to the truth, but found that Ike was peaceful, respectful, loving, and cooperative. "

However, the people who worked closely with Ibeabuchi had a very different story. Kushner, who was his promoter, told several incidents that led him to believe that Ibeabuchi was mentally ill during a TV interview in 2012

He said: & We had a nice meal in a nice restaurant in the middle of the city. Ike took a big carving knife, threw it in the table and shouted: "They knew it! They knew it! The belts are mine! Why didn't they just give them back? "That was a special experience."

Respectful matchmaker Eric Bottjer also believed that Ibeabuchi was mentally unstable and claimed that he refused to enter the ring to fight Byrd, unless he had a Snickers bar, and made a member of his entourage run to a nearby supermarket to buy one.

Ibeabuchi spent time in prison for false imprisonment, battery, and assault attempt "

Ibeabuchi spent time in prison for false prison sentence, battery and assault attempt, battery and assault attempt "

<img id =" i-2b66099f97641f46 "src =" https://i.dailymail.co .uk / 1s / 2019/02/15/17 / 9871108-6708241-image-m-33_1550251381864.jpg "height =" 703 "width =" 470 "alt =" He is shown after his release in 2014 – but he is Soon ended up in jail. Now, 46 years old, he is available again for release in September this year after nearly 20 years in jail – and he is still considering a comeback to boxing "

<img id = "i-2b66099f97641f46" src = "https://ift.tt/2YjQ87I" height = "703" width = "47 0 "alt =" He is pictured after his release in 2014, but soon ended up in jail and is now, at the age of 46, available again for release in September this year after nearly 20 years in jail – and he is considering still the comeback to boxing classic

Ibeabuchi has spent time in prison for false imprisonment, battery and attempted assault. He is pictured (right) after his release in 2014 – but he soon returned to prison. Now, 46 years old, he is available again for release in September this year after nearly 20 years in prison – and he is still considering a comeback to boxing

He also said during an HBO documentary: & # 39; He is the only fighter I have ever worked with who was mentally ill. The cliché when you work with certain fighters is "Oh, he's crazy, he's crazy" because they misbehave and they do things that normal people wouldn't do. But Ibeabuchi was mentally ill. And it was a dangerous person. And that made many people around him uncomfortable.

& # 39; I knew that from the beginning. And we asked him why we even promoted him. I had a conversation with Cedric one day. When he first tried to get him out of jail, I said, "Do you want to sit on ESPN one day as the promoter of the world heavyweight champion who killed someone?" I was scoreless. I said, "This man's crazy. He's going to hurt someone. I don't want him to be me or anyone else." But he is very capable of killing someone. "

& # 39; He was delusional. I lived in his own world. And his mother – I know she died recently, I don't want to say I'm sick of the dead, but she was also crazy. And she supported him. And Cedric had to deal with this. And of course Cedric saw the following: "I have the future heavyweight champion, I must do something about this." But what I should have done was take this guy to And no one has ever done it. No one has ever done it. & # 39;

Ibeabuchi's story took another bizarre turn when in 2007 the Supreme Court sentenced Las After rejecting a trial, Vegas refused the lower courts to release him, and eventually was released by the Nevada prison system in early 2014, but was directly transferred to US immigration and customs enforcement, who imprisoned him in Arizona.

Ibeabuchi was placed on a lifelong conditional release at 42, began to plot his return to the ring. However, promoters were reluctant to cooperate with him and only five months after his release, he was arrested again for violating the conditions for his probationary period and he is still in an Arizona prison today.

Even now, approaching the 20th anniversary of his last fight, thoughts remain about & # 39; what if? & # 39; & # 39; What if you haven't done some of those awful things? What if I have received the help I need? What if I previously had a title photo?

The overwhelming impression is that, if it were not for the failure of the offenses, Ibeabuchi would have been the next big thing.

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In Hanoi, autumn is a transcendent season

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In Hanoi, autumn is a transcendent season

It is a time when the soul turns poetic, mesmerized and spellbound by the charisma that autumn bestows on Hanoi.

The scent of milk flowers in the wind

Green rice scent in your little hands

Leave a fragrance in your footsteps.

Trinh Cong Son’s song, Nho Mua Thu Ha Noi (Missing Hanoi’s Autumn), would play on my neighborhood’s old loudspeaker when I was a little kid.

The indelible memory that evokes extraordinary beauty is refreshed anew every October as I wake up, open the window and a calm and gentle breeze ruffles my hair.

The sun seems mellowed, too.

There are fragrances and hints of fragrances in the air, lingering like a pleasant aftertaste.

When it all seems like a beautiful dream, I know autumn is here, here in Hanoi.

Autumn in Hanoi is a transcendent season. It becomes the muse for poets, musicians and artists, and it becomes the muse that makes everyone’s heart sing.

It casts a spell on everything – the air, the space, the food, the drinks, the fruits.

I was born in Hanoi, and have lived here all my life. Yet, I fall in love every year, at this time of the year.

The weather

The spring brings in warmth after a biting cold winter, and the a scorching summer follows. It rains. Then, autumn steps in gracefully, bringing cool, gentle breezes and sunlight that sprinkles just the right amount of warmth all around. The sky smiles a brilliant smile. The leaves of huge trees turn red, reddish brown, yellow and other hues that adorn Hanoi in this season.

Hoan Kiem Lake (Sword Lake) and West Lake cast peaceful yet stunning sceneries. Cycling or riding a motorbike slowly through the streets of Hanoi at this time is a lovely experience, watching fallen and falling leaves, feeling the soft breeze and soft warmth of the sunlight.

The flowers

In the evening and the night, the famous hoa sua or the milk flower exudes its bewitching fragrance. Along some sections of the West Lake promenade, on streets like Phan Dinh Phung, Quan Thanh, Quang Trung and many other places, the scent is so strong that some people, especially women, said they feel faint.

Autumn also seems to be the season of daisies and lotuses that are carried on many vendors on bicycles and sold on pavements. The sight of women holding bouquets of daisies on a breezy autumn day adds to the beauty of the capital city during his season.

The fruits

Autumn leaves its mark on the capital city with fruits that are particular to this time of the year, that seemed made particularly for this time of the year.

In summer, young dracontomelons are used to make a syrup for a thirst quenching drink. But in the autumn, when they are ripe, these are peeled and sugared or salted to make a snack people love. Dracontonmelon is a fruit that reminds people of Hanoi.

From September to October is also the time of ripe persimmons, when the fruit’s skin turns a glossy yellow or orange, and the pulp is crispy and sweet.

Grown in urban areas and usually close to temples, thi is a fruit is similar in shape and color as the persimmon, because they belong to the same plant species. But the thi is not meant to be eaten, because the taste can be quite harsh and bitter if not prepared correctly. Instead, people buy the fruit for its pleasant and fruity smell to place in the house as a natural deodorant.

The eats

Apart from the fruits, autumn in Hanoi bring to mind eagerly awaited delicacies like beaten green rice and noodle that are packed with memories for both old timers and the young.

Com (Green rice flakes)

Com, immature rice kernel roasted over very low heat and pounded into flakes is an essential of autumn here. Its special sweetness and nutty flavor gets further enhanced by the lotus leaf in which it is typically packed. Having this with ripe bananas is a popular combination that is a must-try dish for all newcomers to the capital city. 

Today this simple dish has spawned many other popular dishes like com cake with mung bean filling, com sweet soup and com ice cream.

Com is not for hasty people. You have to take it really slow, like a food for thought.

Thach Lam, Author

Ragworm

Ragworms can either be fried with meat or eggs with tangerine peels, crunchy and fragrant, with a rich taste. Fried ragworm has always been a favorite of gourmets in autumn for two reasons. First, they can only be harvested during high tides, so they are very rare and expensive (VND500,000 or $23 for a kilo). Second, not many places serve great ragworm dishes in Hanoi. The best places are on Hang Chieu Street in the Old Quarter or on Lo Duc Street.

The late author Vu Bang, a Hanoian at heart, wrote: “An autumn without ragworms feels as tragic as a woman who has wasted her youth”.

Snail dishes

Boiled snails are another favored autumn food in Hanoi, maybe because these are at their freshest during this season. A bowl of boiled snails can be an appetizer before going on to other dishes made with the molluscs. The steamed snails are taken out of the shell by using a small and flat metal pick, and dipped in a chili-garlic sauce.

On colder autumn days, a sweet, sour and savory snail vermicelli soup is great body warmer. An original Hanoi dish, bun oc is a vermicelli soup with a tomato-based broth made by slowly simmering pork or chicken bones, topped with fried tofu, prawns, fish cakes or beef and Vietnamese herbs like perilla and cilantro. Of course bun oc will not be bun oc without the famous escargots – as the French refer to snails. To add even more flavor to this dish, you can either use fermented shrimp paste or chili oil. One of the oldest bun oc spots in Hanoi is on Hang Chai Street, where it is always busy and crowded. A bowl of bun oc costs around VND30,000 ($1.28) a bowl.

Another “cooler” version of this dish is called bun oc nguoi (cold snail vermicelli). This is another traditional Hanoian dish. The broth is made of snails, rice vinegar, special herbs and some fried scallion sprinkled on top. A great bun oc nguoi spot can be found on Tay Son Street.

Lotus seed sweet soup

The lotus seeds are used in traditional medicine but can also be turned into a sweet and elagant dessert, cooked in syrup that has a light taste and a fragrant, heavenly smell.

Banh troi tau (Sweet rice soup)

This is another autumn-geared dessert made with sticky rice and mung beans cooked in a sweet soup made with water, sugar and grated ginger, garnished with toasted sesame, peanuts and coconut milk. The dish adds to the enjoyment of rare rainy days of autumn.

The drinks

After all the walking around and the eating, it’s time for another treat that is part of Hanoi’s autumn charms, thirst quenching drinks that also soothe the soul.

Lotus tea

The lotus is Vietnam’s national flower and found in many parts of the country, but connoisseurs will tell you that the most fragrant ones, which are used to make the famous lotus-scented tea, is to be found on Hanoi’s West Lake.

It is said that it takes about 1,500 lotus flowers to make one kilogram of lotus tea, so the price of high grade lotus tea can go up to hundreds of dollars per kilogram.

    A sip of this tea will make you feel the price is worth it. The fragrance and a sweet aftertaste linger long after you have finished your up. This tea is sold on Nghi Tam Street, and among other places, a lovely café called Huong Mai on Ma May Street in the Old Quarter serves a great cup of lotus tea.

Egg coffee

Much has been written about Hanoi’s egg coffee, and it has now reached places as far as Chicago, but the ultimate place to have it is at its birthplace. 

One of the best places to get a cup of egg coffee is at Giang, a humble café on Nguyen Huu Huan Street, where Hanoians get together on chilly days and enjoy the feeling of warm coffee running through their veins.

Tra da (Vietnamese green iced tea)

Arguably the most popular thirst quencher in Vietnam, tra da is a very simple drink, but an awesome one, nevertheless. Refreshing and affordable, this drink also has a special flavor in Hanoi, compared to other parts of the country. It is more bitter and therefore has great sweet aftertaste. Those who are used to the tra da in Hanoi will tell you that you can get it anywhere else in the country.

In sum, every aspect of life in Hanoi is toughed by the autumn magic, and if you spend a weekend experiencing it, chances are you will extend your stay or play your return even before you leave.

More lovely and stunning photos of Hanoi’s autumn

(Click on buttons on the right to see more photos)

Story by Tuan Hoang 

Photos by Giang Trinh, Kieu Duong, Nguyen Chi 

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