#violent in his introduction chapter still just as violent in the current chapter | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

call-sign-shark · 2 years ago

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*scream and smash my head against my phone* I CANT ARTHUR IS JUST SO SWEET IM GOING TO DIE FROM A HEART ATTACK IN THE MIDST OF THE GYM. Erm. Sorry. So what was I saying? Ah yes. This was such an outstanding chapter, Daisy. The plot twist, the violent introduction to David, the whole tension… I am a slut for this story. I am currently on my gym’s treadmills and, at first, I just wanted to skim and wait til I’m home to read but… I’ve been so hooked on the first lines that I read the whole thing in one row while jogging. My apologies if this comment is messy but I’m training at the same and I’ll prolly write between my sets.

First of all this first scene with Arthur and John was so sweet I could not help but giggle. I can perfectly understand poor Y/N and how miserable she just felt, trapped between the four walls of her small house with nothing to do. Even if Thomas is nice and gives her money, it’s the worst for our poor Y/N’s sanity. Especially since she seems to be such a troubled little soul. I find it super endearing how they both visit her without Tommy’s orders because they deeply care of her. The sisterly bond they share got me feeling all fuzzy. Arthur asking for whisky while John asks for tea is so canon — I don’t know why but I loved this small detail. The moment between this sweet trio felt like a real breather both for readers and for Y/N. I’m trying not too expand to much on Arthur but gooshhh he’s so sweet with Y/N!! A real gentleman with the way he holds the door open of her and tries to cheer her up despite her being obviously anxious of meeting Tommy. 🥹 Also the hilarious scene of Arthur and Y/N talking about how she almost shot him the day the brothers tried to teach her how to use a gun 🤣🤣 Poor Aunt Polly, I can perfectly imagine how brutal the scolding was and how the four idiots’ faces must have looked so scared and sorry. I must admit that ALL the interaction between Y/N and the two other Shelby are formidable. (AND ARTHUR. I MEAN. BABY. I swear I wanted to smash David’s henchman with a baseball bat. Sorry? You don’t threaten my kitten?)

NOW. What was that steamy kiss with Tommy? I’ve been waiting for this since the beginning of this series and here we goooo! At first I was sure they were going to fight again — after all, harsh words have been exchanged in the last chapter. Yet, I could almost applaud when Y/N told him “you’re the ghost of who you used to be” BANG! Give him a taste of his own medicine, girl. But then they kiss and the magic happens: I knew they were still mad in love with each other but I didn't expect their feelings to be that strong. In truth, the way you've described their embrace has left me speechless. You have such a talent with words, I was completely taken aback and ended up all dreamy when thinking about how they kissed. What a powerful and sensual scene -- also the temperature rising between the two of them felt so natural and not forced at all. I must say that it's also something I particularly enjoy.

It won't come as a surprise but I hate David. As everyone from now lmao, but what a fucking asshole. I already hated him knowing he was abusive with our poor Y/N but now that we've been properly introduced to him I just want to --

I swear this is me with David. The lad is just plain crazy, with his sadistic plans and his agency on poor Y/N. I think what he asked her to do is as awful as the beating. Poor woman, she's forced to take down the people she loves and she has known since childhood because of this bastard... I keep my fingers crossed and hope for Y/N to tell everything to Tommy. I am pretty sure he would understand, even more considering how he's still in love. 🥹 You got me hooked with this series babe, I need more. Really.

New Endings - Part 4

A/N: SORRY THAT THIS TOOK ME SO LONG. But I made this chapter a bit longer, so hope that compensates somewhat. On the other hand I got carried away and there was no way to make it shorter so here's a win-win for us all 😜

Warnings: Swearing, insulting, threatening, physical violence/abuse, manipulation, mentions of a gun, a little bit alluding to smut? (not the real deal though)

Word count: 6.7k

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS PART

Particles of dust scattered all over the place as (Y/N) kept herself busy cleaning the house. After spending days inside with not much to occupy herself with, she started to get bored. The family house she stayed at remained basically untouched, so one and one made two.

Her cheeks were reddened from the warmth of the fire and the physical work she was putting into tidying the place. It felt satisfying to make herself useful while also getting time to think. Tommy’s harsh words lingered in her mind. He was right, she knew he was right but at the same time it felt so wrong. He was the last one to judge her, considering his own actions. The worst thing was that she hadn’t seen him anymore after their argument. The only person who’d stop by was Polly and although she appreciated her help, it didn’t feel right. Just as her mind took her further into a spiral of thoughts, she heard the front door open. She turned to see who it was, standing eye to eye with two men in long coats, both wearing peaked caps.

“Ello, love.” Arthur’s gruffy voice spoke up, a genuine smile on his face. John grinned at her as he stood beside his older brother. A smile started to break on her face and her eyes lit up as she took in the sight of the two brothers. “That's been a while."

“Nah, I spoke to you a few weeks ago.” John joked as he took his cap off. “How have you been holdin’ up ‘n here?” (Y/N) put the rag she was using, down. "I'm doing fine." She smiled at him. "How have you two been?"

"We're well." Arthur answered as he took his cap off. "We thought you'd might like some company." He slid the coat off his shoulders and hung it up on the rack. "Oh, well... I do actually." She chuckled. "Would you like some tea?"

"Nah, love. Tom said you got him some good whiskey. I'd like some of that." Arthur smiled. The mention of Arthur's nickname for Tommy made her think. He had talked about her, or probably at least about their evening. It made her wonder what else he had told them. "Did he send you to come see me?" She asked the oldest brother, questioning the sincerity of their visit. "No, like I said we thought you'd might like some company." He started as she watched him sit down on one of the chairs. "We're not here because of him."

She nodded, shifting her attention to John who just got rid of his cap and coat and had returned to the table. "Whiskey for you as well?" He shook his head as he rolled his toothpick to the other corner of his mouth. "Some tea for me." She chuckled softly, amused that the tough stance didn't say everything about him. " Alright, I'll be right back." John sat down and grinned. "Is that funny to you?"

"A little." She jokingly confessed. "I barely made it inside and she's making fun of me already." John complained to Arthur, his grin never leaving his face. "And you wonder why?" Arthur joked while leaning back in his chair.

"I'm having tea as well, you won't be the only odd one out here." (Y/N) teased as she made her way to the small kitchen. "Yeah, go on, make that tea. It's taking you long enough. It could've been done in the time you took to mock me." John called out, continuing his banter. He could hear her laugh coming from the kitchen which made him chuckle.

Once she returned with the drinks, she sat down with the two brothers. "I must say that I'm happy that you're here." She smiled at them. "It's pretty quiet sometimes."

"Can imagine. Don't you get out of the house?" Arthur wondered as he took a sip of his whiskey. She shook her head. "No. I... I'm too afraid, honestly." She softly confessed. Both brothers looked at her, not expecting the answer from her. "Afraid?" John repeated. "He's really been that bad to you, hm?"

"I guess so, yes." She uncomfortably moved in her seat. "We can go with you." Arthur kindly offered. "No need to be scared then." (Y/N) looked up at him, touched by his offer but unsure of accepting it. "I appreciate it but I don't want to bother you."

"It's no bother. What about this afternoon?" He suggested as he watched her nervously fumbling with her fingers. "Well, okay then." It would be good to get out of the house for a while and she finally could buy some things for herself, instead of asking Polly. This could be a first step back to the independence she had missed. "I'll pick you up at 2 then, yeah?"

"Thank you." She smiled before taking a sip of her tea. John took the warm cup between his hands. "I can't come, gotta do somethin' for Tom but I'm sure you two will be okay."

"Oh please don't worry about it." She tapped her fingers on her cup before putting it down. "I was actually wondering..." She looked at the two brothers in front of her as her heart started beating faster. "So I have been thinking a lot since I'm here and I..." She didn't understand why the words were so hard to get off her lips. "I was wondering if you maybe needed a hand at the betting shop? I mean Tommy gave me some money for food and clothes but he can't give me money forever. Besides that it just feels... weird."

John and Arthur looked at each other as silence followed after her question, both seeming to think about her question. "I mean no worries if you don't need anyone else. I-I just can't sit here and wait, you know? I'd rather work for it." She started rambling as her nerves and the uneasiness of the silence got the best of her.

John picked up on her uncomfortable state and smiled kindly at her. "First of all, calm down. It's just us." He chuckled. "But that's not something we decide about, although I think we could use a hand."

"Yeah, Tom and Pol are the ones concerning this." Arthur added, taking another sip of his whiskey. "Oh.. well, I haven't seen Tommy in days so I'll ask Polly when she's here again."

"I can ask them for you." John offered before Arthur interrupted him. "Or we could go see Tommy later this afternoon." His words made her palms feel sweaty, she didn't know if it was a great plan to go see him in his house unannounced. That, and she wasn't sure if she actually wanted to go there. "I don't know if that's a good idea." She retorted, her fingers playing with the fabric of her dress. "I think he's pretty busy." Arthur snorted as he shook his head. "He always is."

"We'll ask him first if it's okay, yeah? Think that makes her feel better." John interfered, knowing that there was something he couldn't quite put his finger on. She looked up at him, a small smile tugging on her lips. "It does."

"You can just tell us, love. We don't judge." Arthur's gruffy voice spoke up as he patted her shoulder gently. She shifted her gaze to him and chuckled softly. "I should've remembered."

After John and Arthur had left, she went back to doing her chores. While she hung her dresses to dry on the laundry rack, she thought about their visit. She enjoyed their company and it felt good to have a laugh with both of them. It reminded her of simpler times and how carefree she felt, although she probably wasn't the only one. She noticed how Arthur's face showed many signs of the stress he was enduring and despite John acting like he was alright, she could see he was suffering from it too. But what else could she expect from living a life like theirs. It was their choice and they had to deal with the consequences, however, she couldn't deny the fact that she'd rather had seen them in another state.

The honk of a horn brought her back to reality. She looked up at the clock to check the time and realized that Arthur was already back to pick her up. She quickly checked herself in the mirror, got her coat and purse and made her way outside. The chilly wind blew across her face, making her shiver before she took a deep breath of fresh air. Or, as fresh it could get in Small Heath. She took in her surroundings before she looked up at Arthur who was holding the car door open for her, like a real gentleman. She giggled as she approached him. "What do I owe this to?"

"I'm just treating the way you should be treated." He answered, a proud grin on his face. "Well, thank you sir. I appreciate it." She chuckled as she got in the car. Arthur shut the door and got in next to her, starting the car. "Tommy said he had time for you now." She turned her head to look at him, his words caught her by surprise. "Now?" She repeated, Arthur nodded in response. "Yeah, now. He was supposed to be at the betting shop but something came up or something." He shrugged while driving off. "I don't know but doesn't matter. We're meeting him at his house now."

"Right." It was the only word that she was able to say. An uneasy feeling made her stomach turn. She anxiously twisted the ring around her finger, trying to ease herself. During the ride she elaborated on some of the things she and Arthur spoke about that morning while he told a bit more about his current life. It helped her to get grip on the restless feeling and compose herself.

It wasn't until he pulled up to the driveway that led to Arrow House, her nerves came back while she was stunned by the huge mansion that was in front of her. "This is Tommy's house?" Her mouth was slightly agape as she stared at it in awe, not comprehending what she was looking at. "It is." Arthur chuckled. "Pretty big, eh?"

"Yeah... pretty big." She repeated as Arthur drove trough the gates. He parked the car in front of the enormous wooden doors. "My god." She muttered under her breath as she heard Arthur chuckle. "You should see inside, you can get lost in there." He told her before getting out. She opened the door herself and followed Arthur to the doors where he'd just knocked on. Not much later an older woman opened. "Ah, Mr. Shelby. Come in, your brother is waiting for you in his office." She kindly greeted him as she stepped aside. "Thank you, Frances." Arthur smiled at her as he walked in. "This is (Y/N), an old friend of ours." He introduced her to the maid.

"Nice to meet you." (Y/N) smiled at the older woman who kindly smiled back. "Nice to meet you too. Can I take your coat for you?" Frances questioned. "I- Yes, sure." She answered, she took her coat off and handed it to Frances. "Alright, come on. Tom is in 'ere." Arthur spoke up. She shot another smile at Frances before following the oldest brother.

She felt her heart racing as the uneasy feeling grew. She had to reassure herself it was just Tommy but that was the whole problem. It was Tommy. She didn't know what she could expect. Before she had the chance to think about it, Arthur had opened the office door already. "We're 'ere." He announced as he walked in, getting Tommy's attention. He looked up from the papers he was reading and let his eyes wander over her frame once she had entered. "Hi." Her voice was soft, her hands folded in front of her body. She took a quick glance at his office. The dark furniture stood out against the green walls while a few paintings of horses accompanied them.

"You can sit." His low voice filled the room as he gestured with his hand to the sofa in front of his desk. She looked at Arthur before she made her way to the sofa and sat down, putting her purse next to her. She leant her back against one of the soft cushions and rested her hands in her lap before looking up at him. "I didn't know you had glasses." She noticed, trying to break the tension. "Arthur, if you don't mind." He nodded his head towards the door. "Yeah, okay." A low mumble fell from his lips as he followed his younger brother's order.

His eyes focused back on the woman in front of him. She glanced right back at him, not wanting to show him how uncomfortable she felt. "I've had an injury." He explained it in his own way. "What?" She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "The glasses. I need them because of the injury." He simply stated. "Oh, I didn't know." She awkwardly mumbled.

"You came here because you needed something?" He swiftly changed the subject, not wanting to waste any time. "I was wondering if you might need a hand in the betting shop. It would be a great way to work for my money." She explained as her fingers played with the fabric of her dress. Tommy leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on his abdomen. "I mean, I can't just live of your money forever, can I?" She added, slightly nervous.

"You can but the question is if we both want that." His tone was emotionless as usual. She felt herself getting annoyed at his comment but decided to let it slide, the sooner she got out of there, the better. "Well I certainly don't want to."

"Then I'm sure you could help us out." He sighed. "You remember how to take bets?" He asked, leaning forward to get his glass of whiskey. She nodded. "I do."

"Tomorrow, 8 AM then." He took his glasses off and put them on top of his papers. Despite the weird tension between the two of them, she felt relieved. "I'll be there." She was about to get up when he spoke up again. "How are you?" His eyes curiously scanned her face. She unsurely leant back against the sofa again. "I'm doing okay. You?"

He nodded slowly as he got up, walking over to the front of his desk, making the gap between them closer. He leant against the edge of the wooden desk and crossed his arms. "Me too. I heard Arthur offered to go out with you?" She kept his gaze a little longer before breaking it, letting her eyes wander over the floor. "He did." Tommy grabbed his cigarette case and took one from it. "That's a great step forward for you." He wetted it between his lips before lighting it.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She couldn't hide the irritation in her voice. Tommy sighed before taking a drag of his cigarette. "I'm just saying that it's a good thing. Nothing more, nothing less." He put the whiskey that was in his hand on his desk while she moved to the edge of the sofa and grabbed her purse. "Whatever." A soft mumble left her lips as she got up. "Thank you for the job opportunity, I'll be there tomorrow morning." She didn't want to wait for his answer and decided to made her way to the door.

"(Y/N)." He stopped her by grabbing her upper arm. She turned her head to face him. "Yes?" Her annoyed tone indispensable as she watched the smoke ascend from his lips. "What's wrong?" His question was supposed to sound genuine, like he actually cared about what she thought but instead she was looking at a face that showed nothing and listened to a voice that matched it perfectly. "I don't know, Tommy. You tell me."

"Is it about what I said that night?" His hand still rested on her arm, the warmth of it confused her. "That and the fact you just disappeared for days." He turned to put his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray before turning back to her. "I wanted you to see what has happened to you."

She rolled her eyes as she shook her arm out of his grip. "And you thought that was the way to do it?" Her voice remained calm while she felt her body tense up. "Let's be honest, you wouldn't listen to it in any other way."

"Let's be honest and reverse it, shall we? Have you ever looked at yourself? Because you're a ghost of the person you once was as well and you're only becoming worse." She returned the questioned he asked her a few nights ago. Perhaps it was unfair, she knew exactly what he meant and his harsh words were supposed to be a wake up call but it still didn't sat right with her. Tommy stared intensely at her as she came closer. "And don't you dare to tell me that I don't understand what you've been trough. Because I was fucking there." Her calm voice seemed to break while her nails were digging into her purse.

"I said it because you deserve better." He specified while standing up straight. "Because I know how much it hurts you and because I don't want to stand at your fucking grave, regretting that I didn't say anything." She scoffed at his words, they were almost the same. He was just repeating them again. "Oh fuck off." She shook her head. "And with deserving better you mean yourself, don't you?"

He kept quiet for a moment while he looked into her eyes. "Tell me you didn't feel the same things as I did." He dared her. She felt his breath on her face, realising how close they were. "I don't know what you mean."

"You do. Now, tell me right now you didn't feel the same." She took a deep breath and looked down. "I didn't." The touch of his fingers on her chin alerted her, he tipped it up so she had no other choice than to look at him. "Look in me eyes and tell me again." He encouraged her, her eyes finding his as words got stuck in her throat. She did feel it, all of it but it must've been a moment of weakness. She couldn't have those feelings for him after years and if she did, she didn't only lie to herself but also to the man she promised to marry.

She leant into his touch, their faces only mere inches away from each other. "Say it." His voice was soft but demanding, her lips parted slightly but no words came out. Tommy closed the gap and captured her lips in a gentle kiss. She had been waiting for this since they exchanged knowing gazes the night of their dinner.

She dropped her purse before she let her hands rest against his chest, feeling the warmth of his body and a heartbeat that matched her own. Her lips discovered his. The soft feeling of them against hers, mixed with the intoxicating taste of cigarettes and whiskey, was one she had missed for so long. His hand moved from her chin to her cheek while the other found its way to her waist, pulling her closer. Her tongue carefully grazed his lips, almost begging him for more. While he granted her access, their tongues explored each other curiously. A soft moan left her mouth while her arms wrapped around his neck.

Tommy deepened the kiss, his arms sneaking around her waist, holding her tightly against his body. Her fingers ran trough the longer strands of his hair, softly tugging on it until she felt his lips leaving hers. Her eyes fluttered open to look at him, finding him looking back at her, his lips slightly apart and swollen from their intense contact. It took her a few seconds to realize that she needed more. More intimacy, more of him and only him.

She placed her hands on his cheeks, pulling him back in for another kiss. Lips crashed together, gentleness made place for neediness, both ready to devour each other right in that moment. His hand fumbled with her dress while hers slid under his suit jacket. His mouth moved from her lips to her neck, kissing her skin exactly the way he knew she loved it. Moans that came from her mouth only proving that he was doing the right thing.

As soon as she was able to get rid of his suit jacket and it hit the floor, her hands ran trough his hair, nails raking over the back of his neck as he softly sucked on her skin. She was lost in the moment until realisation struck her. "Tommy..." It sounded more like a moan than she intended to. He continued to kiss up to her jaw, his fingers struggling with the opening of her dress. "Tommy...wait." Her voice came out as a stammer, lost of any stability.

She felt his breath against her cheek as he had stopped kissing her. "What's wrong?" His low, hoarse voice gave her goosebumps. "I-I think we should stop here." Her eyes scanned his face, noticing his flushed face. "Alright." He pressed a soft kiss on her neck before his warm hands left her body. She took a deep breath and adjusted her dress while Tommy picked up his jacket and put it back on. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to give off the wrong signals." She apologized, picking her purse up from the floor.

"You didn't. I think you've told me enough with this." He responded, a knowing look in his eyes. A blush crept onto her face, turning her cheeks a rosy color. "Right." She mumbled as she took in the man in front of her once more. "You might want to get your hair a bit decent before Arthur comes in." She suggested, looking at the mess she made of his dark hair.

He ran his fingers a few times trough his hair to fix it. "I think he has seen worse things than that." Tommy deadpanned. "I don't want him to think that something happened." She confessed, her fingers nervously sliding over the straps of her purse. "Let him think." She nodded, unsure of what to do next. She glanced around the office before breaking the silence. "Well, I'll be at the betting shop at 8 then." She watched as Tommy lit a new cigarette and nodded. "Great."

As she turned to make her way to the door, Tommy spoke up again. "If everything goes well, I need you here tomorrow evening at 7." She turned back to look at him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Dinner." He simply stated. Her lips turned into a small smile, which she tried to hide. "I'll keep my schedule empty."

She walked up to the door, giving Tommy a last, quick glance before leaving his office. Once she closed the door, she still wore the smile he managed to give her. She looked around the large hallway, trying to find a glimpse of Arthur. Besides the amount of portraits she hadn't noticed before, there was no sign of the oldest Shelby. That was, until she heard a low grumble coming from the dining room, followed by a few curse words.

"Fuckin' 'ell." (Y/N) entered the dining room, stunned by the longest table she had seen accompanied by many dark, wooden chairs. Above the head of the table she found another portrait of Tommy and a horse. "What happened?" She asked as she walked over to Arthur, who she found on his knees on the floor. "Dropped the fuckin' cup." He was holding the shards in his hands as he got up. "I don't get why they give me these smoll cups." She couldn't help but chuckle. "I hope they weren't too expensive." She joked, earning a smile from Arthur. "Ah well, Tommy can afford some new cups. Anyway," He put the shards on top of the table. "Got the job?" He questioned, hopefully looking at her. "I did." She smiled. "I can start tomorrow."

"Isn't that great news!" He exclaimed while he pulled her into a hug. "Welcome back, sister."

The car ride from Arrow House to the market felt much more relaxed, the tension was gone and after some banter with Arthur, she felt the best she had felt in months. While Arthur reminisced about the past and how his life in Small Heath used to be, she couldn't help but think about the kiss she had shared with Tommy. It was something she didn't knew she needed so badly. She never found the exact feeling he gave her with someone else and although David came close, it wasn't the same.

"Do you remember?" Arthur turned his head to look at (Y/N), getting her attention. "I- Yes of course I do." She lied, no clue what he was talking about. "You almost killed me." He laughed as he focused his eyes back on the road. "I hope you're better with guns now because I don't want to experience such a thing ever again."

She finally grasped what he was talking about, the memories of the brothers teaching her how to use a gun was pretty much an event itself. "Yeah, I'm still sorry about that. I panicked." She chuckled. "Me too." Arthur laughed. "It was only a few centimeters between life and death."

"I remember Polly wasn't too happy when she saw all of our scared faces when we came in and you made it even worse with your awful lie." (Y/N) giggled at the thought of the disappointed look on their aunts face. "Well Finn, could've fired the gun, ya know."

"Finn was with her the whole time." She countered. Arthur gave her quick glance as he thought about it. "Ah yeah, that was it." His answer made (Y/N) laugh. "Good ol' times." He chuckled as he parked his car on the sidewalk. She looked at the street in front of her, many market stalls stood on each side of it and a crowd of people were curiously looking at them. She just had to do it, after that it would become much easier. She took a deep breath and got out of the car, Arthur did the same and waited for her in front of it.

"Have you been here before?" She asked while she walked up to him. "I'm not the type of man that likes to go shopping." He chuckled. "I see." A smile formed on her face. "What about your wife?"

"Sometimes, although she prefers the smaller one, closer to home." He answered. She wanted to ask him another question when a young man approached him from behind. "Mr. Shelby? You have a flat tyre." He pointed at one of the tyres of the car. "For fucks sake." Arthur grumbled as he walked over to the back of the car, inspecting the tyre. "Fuck."

"Everything alright?" She wondered as she came up to the side of the car. "I have to fix this, love. It might take a bit of time." He replied as he looked up at her, she could see the guilt in his eyes. "It's fine." She looked at the crowded market over her shoulder before looking back at him. "I can go by myself."

"Are you sure?" He wondered, getting a nod from her in response. "If you stay here, I think I'll be alright." She gave him a nervous smile. "I won't but also can't go anywhere." He joked, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I can help." The young man offered. "Might be even quicker then."

She looked at him and nodded before switching her attention back to Arthur. "I'll meet you back here." It sounded more like a question. "Yes ma'am." He gave her a reassuring wink. She answered his gesture with a small smile before making her way to the market. The grip on her purse tightened when she went up in the crowd of people, making sure to avoid any eye contact with anyone, only looking at the products vendors tried to sell.

While she passed the various stalls, the sun appeared from behind the clouds. Warm sunrays caressed her face, natures way to give her a needed embrace of comfort. A sigh escaped her mouth as she felt the tension on her shoulders lessen, a kind of lost confidence within her growing at the same time. It was the first time in weeks that it felt like everything would be okay.

She continued her walk past the stalls, buying flowers, food and even treated herself on a new dress. While having a brief conversation with the kind lady who stood behind the stall, she quickly glanced over to the spot where Arthur had parked his car. Although she could barely see him due to the people who blocked her view, it seemed he was still busy with the flattened tyre. After she finished her conversation she decided to go see one more stall before returning back to the car. She felt proud of herself that despite the fear of going out, she did it on her own. Just like she used to do.

While she turned around, her heart dropped and a cold feeling filled her senses. She turned back, her eyes frantically looking for Arthur as she pushed past a few people. A sickening wave of terror welled up from her stomach. She quickened her pace until someone blocked her path, a hand kept her from moving by holding her arm firmly. "There you are. I've been looking for you."

Her widened eyes looked in disbelief at the man in front of her. "David..." She tried to look past him, hoping that Arthur would've seen them and was on his way to come help her but he wasn't. "Why don't we go talk, hm?" He gently stroked his knuckles over her cheek while she tried not to flinch. "No, let me go." Her voice came out softer than she had hoped, all the confidence she had felt moments ago had left her body within seconds.

"Listen, we can play this the easy way or the hard way." His voice sounded kind but his eyes told her otherwise. She fought herself out of his grip and quickly ran past him, hoping to reach Arthur as fast as she could. She didn't came far as she had hoped when she got yanked back by her wrist, his other hand grabbed her neck harshly. They earned some questionable looks from a few people but nobody dared to speak up. She could feel his breath against her ear as he forced her to look at the car in the distance. "Hard way then." His grip tightened even more. "You see that guy who's helping that Shelby scum?" He growled in her ear, she nodded quickly in response.

"One order from me and he makes sure that changing a flattened tyre is the last thing Arthur Shelby will do. Understood?" The threatening words and immense fear brought tears to her eyes. "I said understood?" He shook her harshly. "Y-yes." She croaked out, her lip trembling. "Great, lets go somewhere quiet." He pushed her towards an alley, away from all the people who were her only chance for help. Once they were out of sight, he turned her around and pressed her back hard against the brick wall behind her, making her drop some of her groceries. A soft whimper left her lips as she felt a stinging pain in her back.

He trapped her with his body and grabbed her cheeks harshly between his fingers. "What a fucking surprise to find you here." His eyes were dark, spewing the anger that was raging inside him into her frightened ones. "You really think you'd be safe with Thomas fuckin' Shelby, didn't you? Is this why you met up with the bastard?"

She tried to shake her head but he restrained her from doing so. "Fucking speak!" He barked at her. "N-no, we just-" She panicked as she watched his face come closer. "You what?" He spat at her. "We just talked. It's true, everything I've told you, i-is true. It really is." She blurted out, afraid of what his next step could be. The morning when he forced to tell her what she had done the night she met with Tommy, playing in her head.

A humorless laugh fell off his lips. "You're going to tell me you just talked to someone we are trying to get rid of, then you run away from me and now you're living in his fucking house. Is that what it is? Because that’s exactly what it sounds like to me!" He narrowed his eyes, the grip on her face tightening. "What have you told those god damn gypsies?! Or were you working for them all along?! Like the fucking whore you are!" Her body trembled while he screamed at her, her hands pulling onto his, in hopes that he would let go of her face.

"I didn’t say anything. I just couldn't take it anymore." Her voice trembled with fear. "Couldn't take what anymore." He hissed. "The beating. It was too much." A few tears ran down her cheeks when he let go of her face and took ahold of her wrist. "But darling, you did that to yourself." He wiped away her tears with his thumb while she tried to turn her face away from him. He firmly grabbed her jaw. "See, you're doing it again. You never listen."

"Stop, David." She begged. "I don't want this anymore. Please. I don't want to marry you." A small smile appeared on his face as he shook his head. "Oh, don't say stupid things now." He lifted her hand, his fingers tapping the shiny ring on her finger. "Why are you still wearing this then?" Her eyes fell on the ring while she gulped harshly. "Because I didn't know. I-I didn't know what to do."

"Exactly. You know damn well that you want to go trough with this, you still love me. If you really wanted to end this all you would've got rid of it the moment you got in that fuckers car." He let go of her hand and took a step back while her eyes followed him. "You know I should take you home now, teach you a lesson about running away like a fucking child." He paused his sentence as he looked at her with the most vile look she had ever seen. "But since you wanted to play it the hard way, you'll get it the hard way."

He opened his coat, the holster of his gun appearing underneath it. Her heart starting beating faster and her lips began to tremble, she wanted to run but she stood frozen in the same spot. He took another gun out of his coat and held it up while he inspected it just a second too long. "David, please. I-I'll just come home, okay? I’m so sorry." He looked up at her and chuckled. "Oh, this one is not to kill you, love." He tapped on the gun holster underneath his coat. "However this one might."

He stepped closer to her, grabbing her hand while forcing her to take the gun from him. “You’ll show me how sorry you are.” The cold metal touched the skin of her trembling hands, her glossy eyes still focused on his face. “What do you mean?” Her voice was barely a whisper, scared of whatever he wanted from her. “You’re going to take those Shelby’s out. One by one.”

"No...No no, I won't. I refuse to do it." Tears streamed down her face. "I'll come home and I'll do whatever you want, I promise. I'm sorry David, I really am. I don't want to get involved in your business." She tried to hand him the gun back but he pushed her back into the wall behind her, a soft groan left her lips from the sudden impact, the other belongings in her hand dropping on the cobblestones. He shook his head. "Look at you, I can't believe you think that tinker's lifer is worth more than yours." He clenched his jaw while he wrapped his hand around her throat, making it hard for her to breath. "You have no choice. It's a fucking order. You brought this upon yourself, once again. Now deal with the fucking consequences."

She tried to tear his hand away from her throat but it only resulted of him tightening his grip and cutting of her air supply while she was scratching his arm in panic. "You don't want to be the reason each of your family members will end up with a bullet in their head, do you?" He stroked her cheek gently with his other hand until he released his other hand from her throat. She gasped desperately for air while more tears streamed down her face. "I'll give you 3 weeks." A sick, twisted smile grew on his face as he watched her regain her breath slowly.

"Look at the mess you made." He pointed at the stuff she bought, scattered all over the cobblestones. "Pick it up." He demanded as he watched her try to gather everything together, all while still trying to catch her breath. He let his hand rest on her back, making it seem as a nice gesture before giving her a firm push which caused her to fall hard. Her knees scraped over the stones, leaving a tear in her dress. A soft sob left her mouth before she looked up at him. He towered over her, looking at her like she was just a piece of garbage, unworthy to be even treated like a normal human being. "Midland next Thursday, 9AM. You can tell me about the progress then."

She watched as he walked away, leaving her alone in the quiet alley. He had humiliated her, like he had done so many times before but this time it wasn’t even the worst thing. He forced her to get involved into his problems or rather forced to solve his problems and there was no way for her to win. More tears fell down her cheeks while her trembling hands picked up her belongings. Her eyes fell on the gun David had forced upon her, she wanted to leave it there, far away from her, from everyone but the fear of him finding out was too big to ignore. She grabbed it and stuffed quickly into the side of her bra, safely under her dress so that Arthur wouldn't see it.

Arthur. Fuck. He was probably looking for her. She got up and took a deep breath. While she adjusted her dress she noticed that the tear in her dress stood out too much to hide. She had to think of something to tell him, just a quick believable lie. She made sure her coat covered her dress while she wiped away her tears. Her hands gripped tightly on her belongings before she left the alley and returned to the market.

While she walked back, she saw Arthur coming her way with a worried look on his face. "There you are. I was looking for ya." She smiled kindly at him while she tried not the break down the moment she heard his voice. He noticed her teary eyes and her ripped dress. "Are ya alright? What happened?" She looked down at her dress before looking back to him, a sigh left her lips. "I fell."

"I've walked back and forth over this damn market and hadn't seen a sign of you once. Where did you fell?" He asked, his suspicion raising. "I was trying to find a favorite spot of mine." She lied. "I came there often when I was little." Arthur looked at her. "You came here often?" He asked again. "With my grandma, yes. But I tripped and fell on those fucking cobblestones. Let me tell you, it still hurts as bad as when we're little." She joked while a soft chuckle escaped her mouth.

Arthur thought back at the painful childhood memory. It made sense, the ripped dress, the teary eyes. She must've fallen. He put his hand on her shoulder, his way of showing comfort. "Are you alright?" He sincerely wondered. "I'm alright."

Taglist: @cyphah @kissforvoid @liter4ti @raincoffeeandfandoms @casa-boiardi

#10/10 perfection #Daisy you are a goddess #The fuck my mutuals are so talented?#I swear it's people like you that gives me life #Tommy Shelby x Reader #Daisy Kitty 🖤#Arthur got me swooning #My little perfect gentleman

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dreamyimagination101 · 3 years ago

Text

Nevermoon and the Midnight Realm Masterpost!

Hello! In this post, you can find where to read all the chapters for my original story Nevermoon and the Midnight Realm, as well as the Nevermoon Discord Server, and more!

"Welcome to the mysterious town of Mist View. Known for it’s paranormal stories and ghostly hauntings. When six teenagers discover magical pendants, they travel to a world beyond anything anyone could imagine. However, the wicked Cyrus Shade has escaped from his ghostly prison and things are flipping upside down. Way down. Can these teenagers put Cyrus back in his place before his ghostly army reigns supreme?" Warning: This fantasy story is self rated PG13 for it contains violent deaths though it does not contain dirty language. ~ Who are these six teenagers? Introducing: Lucius, Kirsty, Ivan, Jade, Ritchy and Rose! Each one coming from different places. Each one having to face many challenges as they learn to work together as a team. From self acceptance to the rights versus the wrongs.

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/234622739-nevermoon-and-the-midnight-realm

As of right now (Oct 18, 2022), the story is up to chapter 12, but more chapters will be coming in the future. It's nowhere near finished. ✨✨✨✨✨

On Tumblr, I drop an update every time a new chapter is added, as well ad on Wattpad. I also drop updates on the Nevermoon Discord Server too!

"Wait, your story has a Discord server dedicated to it?"

It sure does!

Wanna join? Just click below!

This server is LGBTQ+ friendly, D.I.D friendly, and Furry friendly too! We have many fun things including: 🌈Colorful name roles themed to magic pendants! 📖A section where you can learn about the story and meet the characters! 📈A leveling system where you'll be able to unlock cool features! 😌A calm chill chat for when general gets too crazy. PluralKit for our friends who have D.I.D ⚡PokeTwo, and more!

Once you join the server, there will be verification. It's to keep the trolls from invading. In order to gain access to the other chatrooms, here's what you've gotta do:

1: You've gotta read the rules. Super important! 2: You've gotta make an introduction. It doesn't have to be much. We have an introduction template that all members use. It's very simple! Just fill in the blanks! No Google Docs required!

Finally, step three. 3: You've gotta find the code! Once you've found it, add it to your introduction where it says code. Easy-peasy! 😄

Once you've finished your introduction, you're all good to go! 👍

Psst! You don’t need to read the story in order to join! That’s only if you want to! You don’t have to! This server is themed to it though and it might help you understand the server better if you do! That’s all up to you. I’m just saying. Also, no NSFW please. This is a safe place! We don't need that dirty stuff here! Nah! Eww.

✨✨✨✨✨

I'm also on Toyhouse! Over there, I post my characters! Though many of them are a work in progress with more info coming soon! There are Nevermoon characters over there as well! If interested in learning about them more, here you go!

(Helpful tip: Some Nevermoon characters also appear in other stories of mine! Because of this, some will appear in the Multi-Universe folder!)

✨✨✨✨✨ Of course, I'm also on YouTube! As well as other places. On YouTube, I'm currently doing projects where I'm reading the story to you! So far, only the prologue is finished, but hopefully one day, more chapters will come!

youtube

As of right now (Oct 18, 2022) I'm still working on the bloopers video for that. I messed up a few times, and I thought it'd be fun to draw out the messed up scenes! 🤣

Anyway, thank you so much for checking out my story! It really means a lot to me! 🙂

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katytheinspiredworkaholic · 4 years ago

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Correspondence, Chapter 01

Pairing: HotchReid

Summary: An AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email referred from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. They know nothing about each other, but they don't really mind.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventually)

Chapter CW/notes: some profanity, a side character who is a dick about Reid, set in season 06, self beta’d

Word Count: 2437

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link

Chapter 01

March 2010

Dr. Spencer Reid

(Current Tenure: California Institute of Technology): Fred Kavli Professor of Theoretical Physics and Mathematics; Director, Walter Burke Institute for Theoretical Physics, Department Head of Mathematics, Physics, and Astronomy at Caltech.

- (Degrees, in order) Ph.D. Mathematics, Caltech, 1995; Ph.D. Chemistry, Caltech, 1997; M.A. Nuclear Science, MIT, 1999; Ph.D. Engineering, MIT, 2000; M.A. Sociology, Columbia University, 2001; M.A. Philosophy, Georgetown, 2001; Ph.D. Psychology, Georgetown, 2002; M.A. Applied Analytics, Columbia University, 2003; M.A. Socio Economic Statistics, MIT, 2004; M.A. Geology, Caltech, 2006; Ph.D. Geography, Caltech, 2006; M.A. Economics, Caltech, 2008; M.A. Brain and Cognitive Sciences, Caltech, 2009

- (Teaching positions, in order) Professor of Mathematics, Caltech, 1995-1997, Professor of Mathematics and Statistical Analysis, MIT, 1998-2005, Visiting Associate, Georgetown, 1999-2002; Professor of Chemical Engineering, MIT, 2002-05; Kavli Professor, Mathematics, Caltech, 2005-; Professor of Theoretical Physics and Mathematics, 2006-; Deputy Chair, 2005-; Director, 2008-.

“Jesus.”

The dossier is just an information sheet; no photo ID, no news articles beyond text component pieces, but it is a thick stack of correspondence and case consultations that S.S.A Aaron Hotchner holds in his hands.

“Five Ph.D.’s and eight separate M.A.’s in fourteen years? What was he doing before that?”

“Who knows? You don’t earn a Ph.D. overnight, even if his accommodation sheet makes ‘em look like they pop up like mushrooms,” Mark Anderson says, audibly tired through the phone speaker on his desk. He was one of the Unit Chief's from the teams at the FBI L.A. field office, who’s phone number was given to him by an old friend, Sam Cooper -- another BAU team leader. Hotch had hit dead end after dead end on this case, and sitting at his desk in Quantico, Virginia, he looks down at the recommended consultant’s extensive list of degrees and teaching positions with a building headache behind his dark eyes. He wasn’t a fan of Anderson, or his briskness, but at this point he’d take anything he could get. “I’m pretty sure that man has never lived outside an academic field. He’s a handful, runs my agents up the damn wall, but he knows his stuff.”

“I hope so. I’ve been on the phone the past three days trying to find someone with a background in Obscure Cognitive Linguistics,” Hotch reads from a separate file, filled with violent images and depraved acts described in morbid detail. “Our unsub sites a very particular thesis about a Study of Language from a Cognitive and Developmental Law, and I keep getting sent to experts in adjacent fields. I don’t see anything in this Dr. Reid’s background about language.”

“Oh, trust me, Hotch -- you’ll get more than you bargained for. This is your guy. He’s basically an expert on everything, and if he doesn’t know anything about languages I’ll eat my tie. He never shuts up.”

Frowning at the speaker phone, Hotch keeps his comments to himself. He’s sure that Anderson probably doesn’t appreciate having an old professor puttering around the field office, but that didn’t mean he had to insult the man. Especially when he was there as a consultant.

“Okay, fine. Thank you. I’ll give him a call now-”

“Oh, you don’t want to do that. Just send him an email. Trust me.” Anderson all but groans like a petulant child. Graining on Hotch’s nerves excruciatingly.

“I’m sure he’s busy enough with his students, he doesn’t need to be fielding emails from the FBI,” Hotch hedged, still frowning.

“Not too busy to write you a dissertation in reply, I’m sure, but you’ll at least get the answers you need. You could be on the phone with him a half hour before you get to what you called about. Hopefully it won’t take you too long to sift through.”

Alright, now he is done listening to the other agent.

“Right. Thanks, Mark.”

“Anyti-” Hotch hangs up on him before the man could make any other remarks. His patience is non-existent after the past week and this extremely brutal case that only seems to compound exponentially in it’s viciousness with each passing day. If Anderson felt like being an asshole to some old man with nothing better to do than rack up Ph.D.’s, he could do it on his own time. Hotch needed help, and this man seemed to be the only person around who might be able to finally do so.

Dr. Reid’s office number is in front of him, as well as about three different lab location phone numbers, and one email address connected to the school faculty. He considers for a moment just ignoring Anderson’s advice and calling the old professor, but he has a meeting with his Department Chief, Strauss, in twenty minutes and the team would be arriving from canvasing the dumpsites soon.

So with a suffering sigh, Hotch pulls up a new email (for what feels like the millionth time for this case) and composes a standard correspondence introduction. Who he is, credentials, case numbers and specifics as far as clearance rates for civilians go, and then finally the questions he needs answered. There is something about this particular thesis that has to be very tongue in cheek to the unsub, saying something that isn’t really there, and this could just be another dead end -- but if it led to them saving a victim from becoming another dead body, he is willing to give it one last try.

Thank you for your time, S.S.A. Aaron Hotchner Unit Chief, Behavioral Analysis Unit, FBI Quantico, VA.

Then he hits send, and leaves the response up to the universe.

The team came up with nothing fruitful. Strauss proceeded to ream Hotch six ways from Sunday for wasting valuable bureau resources and coming up with zero results. His day was spinning down the drain in a hellish cyclone when he sits down behind his desk in his office an hour after leaving it. Case files still piled to one side, grotesque photos stacked within them, and Aaron Hotchner wants nothing more than for them to disappear. For the case to be solved and to be able to go home to his son and his quiet house. But there was no break in sight, no new information, nothing.

Except a new email in his inbox.

Agent Hotchner,

I know that thesis paper well. I can help you.

All air seems to have been sucked from the room as Hotch reads the words a couple of times, not quite comprehending after the morning he has had that someone wasn’t giving him more bad news. That this Dr. Reid said he could help him.

A single click of the email opens up the correspondence reply, and the agent is met with a giant wall of text. Scrolling down for pages, and a quick skim of the material shows such a complex, comprehensive amount of information that there is no way it’s just copy and pasted from any one source. Or even several. It’s a long email spanning a vast number of pages, covering every topic he had asked about (and then some).

The thesis paper, the tongue-in-cheek citation from the unsub, how this killer is acting like he’s being clever when it’s really ‘very obvious what he’s doing, as long as you know the paper’ and detailed links and quotations and references to locations and side tangents on items mentioned that could be evidence to look for or weapons of choice, and so much else Hotch’s head feels like it’s spinning. Like reading the cliffnotes of a complex spy novel, with all the spoilers in one place.

It takes him half an hour to read through everything Dr. Reid sent, meaning the professor had to have been typing a million words a minute from the moment Hotch had emailed him to get everything replied so quickly, and Hotch was baffled to realize that an old man with a handful of Ph.D.’s and no FBI training just solved his case.

Not a figment of speech.

Dr. Reid just solved the case, without even holding the file in his hands.

Hotch is dialing a phone number on his speed dial without even looking away from the screen.

“Garcia? Call the team into the briefing room, and phone SWAT to mobilize. We’re going down to the riverfront in thirty minutes.”

“--Wait, what are you talking about? Did you figure out the unsub’s code?”

Not me, Aaron thought to himself, standing up and printing Dr. Reid’s email after forwarding it to the entire team and their tech analyst, Penelope Garcia. He didn’t have time to explain it that many times, and the amount of information in that single email would be enough to send any of them tumbling heels over head. But it solved every aspect of their case. Hook, line, and sinker.

And the clock was ticking.

“Now, Garcia.”

He rushes from the room with the stack of files in his hands and his laptop open to Dr. Reid’s email. Not even thinking to thank the man for his help as he heads across the bullpen with profound determination.

They have work to do.

They catch the unsub that very day.

Quick, efficient, completely by surprise. They saved Amanda Sutton and another girl they hadn’t even known was missing. No one died. None of his team was hurt. The unsub hadn’t confessed, but Rossi and Morgan had played him like a fiddle in interrogation and now all of his team members were walking to the elevators leaving for a long weekend where they wouldn’t have to worry about serial killers or another dead soul on their conscience. Today was a win. As close to a win as they ever can get, in their line of work.

And it isn’t until he’s back at his desk, the hours ticking into the night, that he opens up his email and there in his inbox is the very reply that started everything. Dr. Spencer Reid. CalTech Department Head. Professor of everything under the sun. Expert on anything, even the obscure.

The reason Hotch will get to spend the weekend with his son, without the overbearing aftershocks of a case gone so horribly bad plaguing him.

His hands are moving before he can stop them. Opening up the email, typing out a response to Dr. Reid thanking him for his help. Relaying what happened, detail by detail much in the same fashion he had completed the paperwork piled on his desk. Letting him know that his information really did end up helping them. All of it. Even the side tangents.

I don’t know how I can ever thank you for the extensive consideration you gave this case, or how to explain how it solved it so seamlessly, but your time and effort does not go unnoticed by me.

Okay, so maybe he fluffs it up a bit more than the dreadful bullet-point list descriptions required by the Deputy Chief and the Director and SWAT Team justification reports. Just so it doesn’t look so inadequate in comparison to the man’s thesis-paper-length email he sent to aide Hotch and his team. The passion he has for his work leaps off the page, but it was a lot -- and if the old man put that much dedication into a basic FBI correspondence email, then he was probably used to it being a thankless effort.

Hotch sends the reply, and continues with his work. He always takes a bulk of the paperwork, so his team can go home and rest and recharge. He needs them at their best for each case, and if that means he spends a couple hours longer after when they finish a case, it is worth every minute. But this time, once he finishes, he gets to take the coveted time off as well.

It’s as he’s finishing up, everything stacked neatly and ready to be dropped at records, in the mailroom, Strauss’s office, the director’s, and he’s about to log off his laptop that he sees a surprise -- Dr. Reid replied to him, again.

It’s much more brief this time.

Agent Hotchner,

I’m so glad I was able to help you.

You are one of the only agents to reach out and tell me how the case went after my consultation, and I’m very grateful to know that my information actually helped your team catch the killer. I know I tend to spout facts at random, but I do have methods to my madness and it’s such a nice change to correspond with someone who understands that.

My services are always at your disposal. Anytime. Whatever I can do to help.

Sincerely, Dr. Spencer Reid

Hotch types out a brief reply. Thanking him for his offer, for lending him his expertise, and letting him know in not so many words --

I’ll have to take you up on that.

He’d be a fool not to. Someone with that much knowledge and the ability to connect it all in the way Dr. Reid had in the span of an hour? He could be a real asset to the BAU, as a permanent consultant, even through email correspondence.

He sends the reply just as he stands to leave. Turning off his office light, and his chest feels lighter for the interaction. For giving the professor that sense of assurance that what he had to say did in fact do some real good. Hotch even finds himself smiling softly, sadly, that he has also found a little bit of solace in helping another lonely old man across the country find a sense of purpose that night. Who was working late, as well, despite it being the end of the week. Speaking to not much waiting for him back at home, in whatever shape ‘home’ takes for the man. But Hotch can relate to that, too. Jack is at Jessica’s until the morning, and there is nothing at his apartment to greet him but silence and bare walls and memories he’d rather not dote on. Maybe this Dr. Spencer Reid is in a similar boat, finding comfort in his work when he can. He certainly seems to, with the amount of time he’s poured into his doctorates and degrees. In the number of departments he runs and monitors.

Hotch can’t help but feel a connection, a companionship between empty offices. Thousands of miles apart, but maybe -- possibly -- at least similar in that aspect.

Not so alone, even if only for a brief moment.

(tbc...)

Tagged list: @spencehotchner @ssa-sarahsunshine @gothamapologist @reidology @marsjareau @dragon-snaps-fandom @emmyraebird @just-an-emo-rat @aaron-hotchner187 @dk18077 @more-heid-pls

#omg i forgot to do tags #Jesus so ive been so excited for this and here it finally is and i fuck it up .2 seconds in go me #this is a S L O W B U R N fic and we are starting all the way at the beginning and im so excited im kind of shaking #updates every saturday evening #message me if you want in on the tag list #also on ao3 #HotchReid #Heid #katyswriting

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megashadowdragon · 4 years ago

Link

Warning: this theory contains HEAVY SPOILERS! If you’re not fully caught up with the manga, read at your own risk.

Since English isn’t my first language, I apologize in advance for any spelling/grammar mistakes. Also, this is my first time posting.

It’s practically obvious to everyone that we will get a Kaido flashback in this arc, whether he dies or not: of course, there will be a part about his time in the Rocks Pirates, but we will also get to know possibly one of the most important people for him: his wife.

Because, let’s face it, Oda hasn’t done much yet to give his personality some depth and not being just an arrogant, cruel, child-beating antagonist with a penchant for alcohol and an obsession for death, and a figure such a woman he loved could be a great opportunity for doing so.

Some might speculate that she’s actually dead and that’s why Kaido started drinking.

It could be true but, knowing Oda, he would never introduce a deceased character of that importance out of the blue, without some sort of foreshadowing: a well-kept grave located in a secret place where an important character stumbles upon in the Onigashima raid (on screen, obviously), a framed portrait on a desk or a wall, a name seemingly being thrown offhandedly in a conversation… but there is nothing in Wano which even remotely resembles one of those things.

Therefore, she must be alive.

(Also, there are already too much fundamental figures in various characters’ history who ended up dead in flashbacks, such as Bellemere, Rocinante, Russian and so on. Come on, Oda.)

Is she going to be someone new, at least?

Well, that’s a possibility, however in next arc(s) new characters will be introduced and One Piece has got more than a thousand of them already… quite a lot, aren’t they? Consequently, there is a very good chance for her to be someone who has been already introduced into the story.

Of course, there must have been some sort of foreshadowing when she had been introduced, too: she was the lover of a Yonko, after all. Has there been a woman with an unknown lover in the past arcs?

Yes, actually.

It was her:

And I believe that the mysterious man she fell in love with was none other than Kaido himself. But wait, there’s more: Gloriosa has also eaten a Devil Fruit. An extremely powerful one.

Don’t worry, I will explain everything on the way. Now, hold onto your seat, because this will be quite the long ride.

Kaido and Gloriosa comparison

Kaido of the Beasts, Governor General of the Beasts Pirates, one of the Four Emperors, the Strongest Being in the world and Gloriosa, a former Kuja ruler. These two may have little to nothing in common... or have they?

Probably the most striking difference between them is their respective height: while Kaido easily dwarfs normal humans, Gloriosa is shorter than Luffy; however, both of their heights are currently not canonically stated.

Unstated as both of their ages are, although it’s clear that both of them are past their younger days: in Gloriosa this is highlighted by her grey hair and wrinkled face, but it’s clear that Kaido is not that young any more, too, having crow’s feet under his eyes and forehead lines. It is likely that these two are quite close in age, actually.

A notably interesting fact is, canon heights and ages of the various characters, along with things such as their favourite food, are revealed in the SBS corner in manga volumes. And yet, not even one of these little pieces of information has been revealed for both Kaido and Gloriosa.

It’s very unlikely that nobody has ever sent these question to Oda, or that the latter forgot to answer them; given the importance of the two characters in the arc where they have appeared, there must be a very specific reason why Oda didn’t tell us a thing. More than that, when Gloriosa talked about her Love Sickness in chapter 522, there was no flashback; not even silhouettes.

With these things and questions on mind, let’s move on to their position. Kaido is now an Emperor of the Sea, and Gloriosa was an Empress of the Kuja. Also, while Gloriosa was an Empress Kaido held no particular position, except by maybe being a pirate captain; and now the tables have turned, Kaido being an Emperor and Gloriosa being a nobody. A neat little parallel, isn’t it?

Now, let’s get to their Haki usage and knowledge: Gloriosa seems to have some knowledge about how it works and the characteristics of the people who are able to use the various Colours: in fact, in chapter 521 she comments about Luffy’s Haki, surprised by how he willingly bowed his head to Hancock to help those who saved him instead of a boat to leave the island without a second thought. She is not a confirmed user of any form of Haki; however, in a place where pretty much every powerful warrior can use at least Observation and Armament, it is hinted she is a wielder of these two colours at least and, since she used to be an Empress, there is also a chance she can use Conqueror’s, too. Kaido is a confirmed Observation, Armament and Conqueror user, and also one of the very few people, as he himself stated in chapter 1010, who can make the latter colour flowing through their body and coat their weapon(s). In the very same chapter, he also recognized Zoro’s illusions while performing Ashura as a manifestation of Conqueror’s Haki, revealing his in-depth knowledge about the subject.

Last but certainly not least... their strength. Kaido one-shot Luffy in Gear Fourth despite the Emperor being so drunk he could not stand on his feet properly; also, he was able to clash against a fellow Yonko for days and tanked pretty much both all the Scabbard’s hits and the majority of the Supernova’s attacks on the rooftop. Moreover, how can his absolutely epic introduction not be taken into account? He fell from a Sky Island literally 10000 metres above the sea level and he ended up with... a strong headache. I’ll tell you what: Gloriosa fell from a great height, too! In addiction to it, she landed without suffering any serious consequences, as shown in chapter 517, where she landed on her feet seemingly undamaged after Hancock quite literally threw her out of the Kuja Castle. As Gloriosa herself said, she might have grown old, but she is still a Kuja warrior. Also, being a former ruler where strength is beauty, she undoubtedly was a force to be reckoned with in her prime.

That being said*... Maybe they’re not so different, after all, huh?*

Mythology references

One Piece has loads of references to Japanese myths and folklore, however Wano is especially loaded with these; and how could it not be? It is inspired by Japan, after all.

Moreover, since Kaido can transform into a dragon, there must be some kind of reference to Japanese myths and legends regarding these legendary creatures.

There’s one in particular, which might be the key to Kaido’s backstory: the story of the Enoshima Dragon.

According to this myth, in the mountains near the Koshigoe village lived a five-headed dragon, called Gozuryu, who terrorized the inhabitants over a period of some-thousand years by provoking countless natural disasters such as huge storms, floods and earthquakes, as well as eating their children. The villagers kept praying and praying, until something happened: in 31st May, 552 AD, during a bigger and more violent storm than the usual, the clouds split in two and a rock began to emerge from the sea. A beautiful woman descended from a ray of light where the clouds slit and sat foot on the island just created, making it her home. The dragon, who assisted to the whole thing, immediately fell in love with her and asked her to marry him.

The woman, who was perfectly aware of the dragon’s evil actions, was none other than the goddess Benzaiten herself.

Benzaiten on a white dragon

Now, there are two versions of how the story ends: in one, the goddess turned him down at first, and told the dragon she would have considered his proposal only if he helped the people he used to terrorise. Gozuryu accepted and the village prospered thanks to their dual protection; in the end, the goddess agreed to marry him and the couple lived happily until the dragon met his demise. In the other version, Benzaiten straight up refused Gozuryu’s proposal due to his evil actions; ashamed for his wrongdoings, the dragon promised the goddess he would have never disturbed the village again, and retired in the mountains where he died of guilt.

Anyway, regardless of how the story goes, when the dragon died he fused with the land of Kamakura, creating the Dragon’s Mouth hill (Japanese: Tatsu no kuchi yama) facing south, the direction of the island where his beloved lived. Needless to say, the island of the myth is Enoshima.

The comparison between Kaido and Gozuryu is immediate: both are extremely cruel towards children, with the former having no qualms beating them, even his own, and the latter eating them. Moreover, the Emperor, much like the five-headed dragon, terrorizes the inhabitants of the place near where he lives (Wano Country and Koshigoe Village respectively) turning the land into completely inhabitable wasteland in the process, and is capable of causing huge storms; his apparition in chapter 921 is also being accompanied by a thunderstorm. Note that, in Chapter 1003, Zoro states that fighting Kaido was like “facing a natural disaster”, much like the natural catastrophes Gozuryu caused.

Now, let’s talk about Benzaiten.

Goddess of water (especially rivers), eloquence, and good fortune, Benzaiten is considered one of the protector deities of Japan, where she’s one of the most beloved and revered gods: every major city has at least one place for her worship and countless temples and shrines dedicated to her cult are present in many other areas across the country, all located near water sources such as rivers, ponds, lakes or even in the sea. She is part of Japan’s Seven Lucky Gods, and she’s the only woman among them.

Benzaiten, however, is not originally Japanese: she is in fact a syncretic deity derived from the Hindu goddess Saraswati whose cult was brought to Japan by Buddhist monks who arrived in the VII century from China.

Due to her extreme complexity, only the most relevant facts to this theory will be reported.

She wasn’t very popular until the XI century, when her cult was fused with Ugajin’s, an obscure Japanese Kami of water, agriculture and good fortune, often represented as an old man with a snake body. Once this happened, her popularity skyrocketed as a goddess of water and by assonance ‘of everything that flows’: rivers, eloquence, knowledge, music, art and Haki. Even nowadays, Uga Benzaiten, the goddess with Ugajin on her head, is one of the most common Benzaiten representations.

Both lived in an island inhabited only by women: Gloriosa in Amazon Lily, and Benzaiten in Enoshima, since she was the sole inhabitant of said island and also a woman;

Benzaiten originated from an Indian goddess and Gloriosas, the flowers which Gloriosa was named after, grow in India too! Gloriosa superba is even Tamil Nadu’s national flower.

Due to being goddess of water, Benzaiten was naturally associated with animals connected with said element: snakes, turtles… and dragons. Especially the white ones, since this colour is linked with water in Japanese culture.

Snakes are a big part of Amazon Lily’s culture: almost every warrior on the island has her own Snake Weapon which can be used as a bow, the island’s dome is sculpted with snake motifs, the Perfume Yuda, Kuja Pirates’ flagship, is carried by two Yuda snakes, even Kuja, the name of the tribe, means ‘Nine snakes’

White snakes were considered to be Benzaiten’s main messengers and avatars and Gloriosa in Share the World opening appeared with a blue top and*...* a white snake.

Also, the traditional representation of the Black Warrior is a turtle intertwined with a snake, much like Kujas with their Snake Weapon. Due to these facts, I believe that Gloriosa has eaten the Mythical Zoan Kame Kame no Mi model: Genbu.

Timeline and character analysis – a PERSONAL take on what could have happened and when (and why)

For this section, other than time markings scattered throughout the story, Momonosuke’s (biological 8 – actual 28), Yamato’s (28), and Hancock’s (31) ages will also be taken into account for comparison.

It is known that the Rocks Pirates were defeated and subsequently disbanded 38 years before the current time. Also, Kaido was captured, and presumably sentenced to jail, eighteen times; given his reputation and danger, it’s pretty safe to assume that at least one of those nine prison ships he sunk was directed to Impel Down.

Impel Down is actually not that far from Amazon Lily: the journey takes one sailing week with an average ship, while Marine ones can make it in just four days, about half the time, because of the reserved currents. In my opinion, it makes sense thinking that Kaido has sunk a prison ship in the Paradise and somehow ended up in Amazon Lily.

Now, everyone here knows the supreme rule of the Island of Women:

NO. MEN. ALLOWED.

For any reasons.

So, by the laws of the island, he was imprisoned and, just like Luffy, was sentenced to death. But, like the latter pirate did, Kaido defeated/broke/knocked unconscious all the animal/things commonly used for executions on the island, therefore the Empress finally decided to take the matter into her own hands.

I believe the Kuja Empress at the time was Gloriosa. Why?

Well, it was stated that 33 years ago the remnants of the Rocks Pirates sent off to found their own crews, and probably Kaido arrived in Amazon Lily even earlier, between 38 and 33 years ago. As Hancock stated, Gloriosa is actually the former-former-former empress of Amazon Lily: this means that there were two Empresses between her and Hancock; since the latter is stated to have become Empress at the age of 18, 13 years ago, and given that the other two unnamed Empresses died of Love Sickness which probably is more likely to strike the unlucky rulers at a fairly young age, 20-25 years are more than enough for two Empresses to have reigned.

To estimate her actual force at the time, let’s analyse her name a bit.

Like all Kujas, Gloriosa is named after a flower (or a genus of those): Gloriosa is a genus of 12 flower species, widely spread in areas of the world such as Africa, the Arabic Peninsula and tropical parts of Asia. It can reach 3 metres in height and they display showy, vibrant-colored flowers with distinctively shaped petals, earning them the nickname of fire lily.

So, the question arises spontaneously: why is this short, wrinkly old woman named after one of the most beautiful (and tallest) flowers in the world? Given Oda’s attention even for the tiniest details, I highly doubt he chose this name randomly; at least, not for her.

Either she’s a grotesque parody of her own name… or it could be a foreshadow.

Gloriosa is also the Italian, Spanish, Portuguese and Catalan word meaning ‘glorious’, if the subject it’s related to is feminine and singular. A truly fitting name for a ruler and the wife of a Yonko, isn’t it? And Kaido want his death to be… glorious.

Maybe Gloriosa in her prime was actually even more beautiful and stronger than the current Hancock, to the point where nobody had ever beaten her in combat.

Anyway, you know how the saying goes: if it’s one on one, always bet on Kaido.

Therefore, Gloriosa was defeated for the first time. By a man.

Hancock’s case probably gives us how Empresses fall ill with Love Sickness: it happens when a man catches them off guard by behaving in a totally and positively unexpected way, defying all the previous experiences the rulers have. Hancock fell in love with Luffy because he showed her kindness and didn’t judge her when she told him about her past; Gloriosa got Love Sickness because she fell in love with Kaido for his strength.

Because love… is always like a Dragon Twister hurricane!

How about Kaido?

It is common knowledge that he respects physical strength, even in his enemies.

That’s probably why he joined the Rocks Pirates in the first place: out of respect for Rocks D. Xebec, because he was actually the first person ever to defeat him in combat.

Just like Zoro with Kuina, or Douglas Bullet with Gol D. Roger (in the Stampede movie).

Gloriosa may have not defeated him in combat, but she surely gave him a very good run for his money, maybe she almost won. And he respected her for that, to the point where he actually accepted to leave Amazon Lily, even if he won. He stayed there for a little more, while a ship for him to sail the sea was being prepared, and lived peacefully (meaning: extensively touched and examined) with the Kujas.; what are the chances that one of his favourite (or least) foods is actually penne with Gorgonzola and Sea King’s meat, the island’s culinary speciality?

When he sat sail, he probably found out that the Empress snuck aboard his ship when he was far away from the island already. He thought of bringing her back, but, after listening to her reasons, he decided to let her stay with him because, let’s face it, Kaido is not Luffy, he actually appreciates the company of women.

The most beautiful woman in the world fell in love with him and contracted a mysterious illness which would have killed her if she didn’t go with him and follow him anywhere?

Oh no! /s

I’ll tell you what, I don’t think that Kaido was actually in love with her at first that much. He surely enjoyed spending passionate nights with her, and was amused by her curiosity due to Gloriosa knowing little to nothing about the external world.

There was a specific moment when he actually fell in love with her.

Have you noticed that, despite being often shirtless, Kaido's back is never fully uncovered even in his dragon form? He always wears a coat, a shirt, or both.

That hints that Kaido has some kind of mark on his back he wants to hide from public view, just like the Gorgon Sisters. Something must have happened that made him show her said mark, maybe Gloriosa caught a glimpse and asked him to see it. Anyway, Kaido was reclutant at first, but she had the right to know, she was his wife after all.

So he showed it to her, in a way that, when it will be shown in the flashback, might be a callback to when Hancock showed Luffy the Celestial Dragon hoof.

That mark meant that for the world he had and would always have been something inhuman, a failed experiment, a monster; even Big Mom, who has the best spy network in the world, calls him a 'thing'. But Gloriosa didn’t judge him for said mark, nor she believed he was a monster. For Gloriosa, he was just Kaido, the man who she had fallen in love with.

That's when Kaido fell for her. And he fell hard, probably to the point of no return.

At some point, the two conceived a child, and that's when Kaido decided that it was time to move to Wano instead of travelling the world: the pirate life is dangerous for grown people let alone for a child, plus he was one of the most wanted men by the World Government, meaning the child was in danger simply by existing.

But how did Kaido know about Wano?

He probably heard something about the Continent Puller and the ‘country’ he formed about 600 years before but, since it was a closed nation, he probably didn’t know much more until he met someone who escaped from said island: Kurozumi Higurashi.

41 years ago, she told Orochi that she fled the country because of the persecutions against the Kurozumi clan, and because she knew nothing about the outside world, joining pirates was the easier choice. Also, in that way she could have found allies and power for the Kurozumi cause easier.

The Mane Mane no Mi allows the user to create a perfect copy of a person whose face has been touched. She transformed in a woman, who, judging by the color scheme in the anime, is heavily hinted to be Bakkin and a young Shiki, both known members of the Rocks Pirates, so Higurashi may have traveled with said crew for a while. There she met Kaido, who she sensed he could have been a great help for the Kurozumis: big, powerful, and stupid, easy to manipulate.

A closed off country not part of the World Government: a perfect nation for Kaido to reside to ensure the safety of his family (mainly his child, because Gloriosa was more than capable of defending herself) and to use as a base for his operations.

When Oden went with Whitebeard 29 years ago, there were no factories in Wano, but they were there when Toki arrived in Wano with Momonosuke, who was 3 at the time, and Hiyori; so Kaido must have arrived in Wano three years earlier at last.

Gloriosa may not have been the Kuja Empress anymore, but had everything a woman like her could ask for: she was one of the heads of a soon to be powerful army, plus a devoted, loving husband and a child.

Why did she leave it all behind?

I have already talked about the parallels between Gloriosa and turtles in the mythology section, but here’s another one: in Chinese culture, turtle (especially turtle egg) is a very serious insult regarding the morality of one’s mother; that’s why Genbu is called Black Warrior instead of Black Tortoise.

This also expands one of Wano’s most prominent themes: betrayal.

Gloriosa was forced to leave Wano and Yamato behind because she cheated on Kaido. But with who?

Well, the Beast Pirates follow a card games and decks naming theme, and currently there is none named Ace; also, when Oden faced Kaido, Jack was only 8, so my hypothesis is that the third Calamity before him was called Ace. He probably had a crush on Gloriosa and when she went to him for comfort while Kaido was away, probably out to recruit subordinates or captured, he couldn’t resist.

But Kaido caught the two in the act, and was absolutely furious.

He killed Ace, and his position remained vacant for quite some time, until Jack finally took his place in the Calamities; that's why, in Episode 972, there were only King and Queen along with the fodder.

However, Kaido couldn't bring himself to kill his wife personally, so he offered her a choice: be dispatched by the hands of King or Queen, or leave and never return.

Gloriosa chose the second option.

She packed her things and left, only to realize she had nowhere to go: Wano obviously was not an option, but she couldn't just go back to Amazon Lily, not after she betrayed Kujas by abandoning them while she was an Empress. Plus, as a pirate, she was wanted by the Marine. So she lived on the run, continuously assuming new identities and never staying in the same place for too long.

Also, Love Sickness certainly has played its role in weakening her, making her age faster and dramatically decreasing her height in the process.

Taking a look at Hancock’s bed, it’s decisiverly oversized for her: said bed could comfortably fit a laid Boa Hancock together with her Snake Weapon, which is way larger than the others, her sisters, the doctor and Gloriosa, and still have room left for someone else to stand on it.

It is very likely that this bed was the Empress’s for a long time, and, since that position is not inherited, it had to fit Kujas of all sizes. So Gloriosa could have been taller in her youth, maybe a little shorter than Kaido, but still enough to handle him.

Anyway, Gloriosa managed to survive through sheer willpower, the same that allows her to snap out of Hancock’s charm much faster than the others, until her feelings for Kaido eventually faded away, thus healing from said illness.

When she finally arrived to Sabaody Archipelago, at least fifteen years ago, she was unrecognisable. Coincidentally, Shakky's Rip-Off bar was searching for new waiters, and Gloriosa applied because she needed money. The former pirate immediately recognised her.

How is that possible? Feminine intuition!

In chapter 591, she correctly predicted that Hancock would became smitten with Luffy despite not seeing her for thirteen years and every evidence in Hancock's behaviour pointing out the contrary. (Also in the very same chapter Hancock asks Gloriosa how to have a proper marriage while surrounded by monkeys wearing Wano's typical hat. Let that sink in).

Shakky understood that Kaido had no interest in her anymore and let her stay with her and Rayleigh, until the Boa sisters arrived and Gloriosa could finally return to Amazon Lily with the excuse of bringing them back home.

On the other hand, Kaido was devastated, to say the least.

Can you blame him? His beloved wife was cheating on him with one of his most trusted subordinates. He needed to forget, to get rid of all those negative feelings overwhelming him: that's why he started drinking.

However, Kaido isn't stupid. Okay, he may not be as smart as Benn Beckman, the most intelligent person introduced in the East Blue arc, but he surely has some brains: you don't reach and mantain high positions within a crew without some smarts, let alone being an Emperor of the Sea. Kaido soon realised that he caught the two relatively easily. Too easily.

Almost if they wanted to get caught in the act.

While Kaido was drinking his sorrow away, someone else was toasting to a risky plan gone smoothly.

The Kurozumi clan.

Higurashi may have lured Kaido into Wano and the alliance with the Kurozumi, but she didn’t predict that he would have arrived with a wife and a child. Gloriosa probably had a great influence on Kaido, who was (and maybe is still) regarded as little more than a muscle head; and the Kurozumis were actually afraid that she may have been plotting something. This impression was confirmed by the Onibanshu who spied the two pirates: probably Gloriosa wasn't happy about the shogun and suggested her husband some ways to dethronate him.

She was a threat, and they needed to get rid of her as soon as possible.

They sensed that one of Kaido’s top subordinates had feelings for Gloriosa, and they decided to use this fact to their advantage. So Higurashi transformed using her Devil Fruit powers and seduced the crew’s Ace, in a time and a place where she was sure Kaido could see them, while someone else distracted Gloriosa. In the end, everything went according to plan.

However, when Kaido saw the old hag using her powers some time after, he understood everything. But he had no concrete proofs, and certainly wasn't in the position to kill someone so important to his pawn based only on simple suspects; so he waited, until the perfect moment arrived.

Meanwhile, Kaido kept drinking, to forget his actions and to numb his guilt. At first, a little quantity of alcohol did the trick, but eventually he needed more and more, slowly falling into addiction.

You know, Gloriosas’ beauty is only matched by their toxicity: as proud members of the Colchicaceae family, they contain colchicine, a powerful metabolic toxin; all parts of these plants can be fatal if eaten, even a simple touch can cause skin irritation. Due to this, Gloriosa superba has been used for centuries to commit suicide.

Just like colchicine corrodes the body, alcohol, together with shame, guilt and anger, slowly eroded Kaido’s soul, corrupting him from within.

While Kaido's original plan for Wano was simply to make the island his operational base, after all that happened he decided to destroy and utterly annihililate it, just like Orochi destroyed his happiness. The shogun was fine with his ally’s devastations and never suspected that Kaido knew. The latter made Orochi believe he wouldn’t touch the Flower Capital, just to completely erase it from the face of Earth once his army would have been powerful enough to fight an all-out war. Revenge is a dish best served cold and then smashed on the forehead.

The rest is history.

Surely Kaido will be defeated, but he will not be completely dealt with in this arc.

Yamato probably got their kind, selfless nature from Gloriosa. The latter would have never approved of the terms of Kaido’s promise to Oden, let alone all the hostages and atrocities done by her husband; since Oden began to dance naked in the streets 25 years ago, probably Gloriosa was already gone at that time.

Because of this, Yamato has little to no memories of their mother, so they will likely ask Kaido about her at the end of the battle. However, Kaido himself doesn’t know her whereabouts because he didn’t send spies after her; at first, because he didn’t care about her anymore. When he realised his mistake, he still didn’t search for her because otherwise it would have shown that she was still important to him. He is not naive, he knows there are spies in his ranks, even at high levels; therefore he wants to avoid attracting unwanted attentions to her.

Plus, Kaido doesn’t even want to know, because Gloriosa probably is dead or has found another person to be with; and he deep down knows that those news would definitely break him.

However, there’s one little detail: Gloriosa’s speech quirk-nyon. Even if her appearance has changed quite a bit, she surely did nyot change her way of talking. Luffy would probably understand Kaido is talking about her because of this, and will tell them that she’s alive and well in Amazon Lily.

It is a known fact that our protagonist either kills the villains’ dreams or changes them: Kaido will change his goal too. He wouldn’t want to die yet, he will probably want to meet Gloriosa again to apologize properly for what he had done to her.

Thus, he will survive the battle and somehow, after almost thirty years, Kaido and Gloriosa will meet again.

Will Gloriosa forgive him? Will she not?

Only Oda will tell.

Other references

Black Maria Many people actually believe she’s a Kuja, and I admit, they have pretty good reasons for thinking so. Let’s start by her name: other than being a card game, Black Maria is also a variety of bougainvillea, a clear reference to Kuja’s floral naming theme; there is also a flower named Spider Lily (Lycoris radiata) referencing her Devil Fruit powers and Amazon Lily alike. Black Maria has also flowers in her hair; the most prominent ones, colored in red, have also five petals, much like the one Gloriosa wears in her hair! She is also the owner of a brothel in Onigashima and, also due to her size, it’s heavily implied that she and Kaido have a… passionate relationship, as Oda would put it (However, Kaido probably views her as nothing more than a distraction). Of course, Kaido and his wife must have had their passionate moments, since they have a child. Moreover, Benzaiten is almost always represented playing a biwa, and, as shown in chapter 992, Black Maria can play it very well. She also has a remarkable singing voice, a feature which was one of the basic requisites to become a geisha. Geishas also were protected by Benzaiten. All in all, Black Maria is actually the biggest reference to Gloriosa... in a literal and figurative sense! Oh, one last thing: the men tied to her webs in Chapter 1005 can be a symbol for Kaido’s soul, unable to move on and perpetually being trapped in the memories and regrets of his relationship with Gloriosa together with his alcohol addiction.

Kaido’s flagship Currently, Kaido’s flagship is the only one among the four Emperors’ which has yet to be seen or named. Some speculate that it’s actually Onigashima, but, in my opinion, that’s not the case: why would he travel with his entire home, with the concrete risk of it being destroyed every time he faces an opponent? Also, Yamato is in there: they have explosive handcuffs which doesn’t allow them to leave the island, but what if someone with internal destruction haki actually removes them thus freeing Yamato and letting them escape? Also, what if Yamato actually gets severely wounded, or worse, killed by invaders? Kaido actually strikes me as an overprotective dad, thus he will never directly expose his child to external danger. The handcuffs will explode if and only if Yamato actually tries to leave Onigashima: if they stay there, nothing will happen. Plus, in chapter 997, when Kaido started lifting Onigashima someone said that the island had never trembled like that before. Kaido actually has his flagship, and the reason why it hasn’t been shown is its name. I’ve said before that Gloriosa means glorious in some languages, therefore there’s a big chance that the ship will have in its name also the Japanese word of the same meaning. Maybe it’s called ‘Glorious Dragon’ in Japanese, or something like that.

Yamato Now, this will touch one of the most controversial topics within the community right now, which is Yamato’s gender; I wish not to discuss about it under this post, because this isn’t the time nor the place (IMO it’s better to delay the discussion at the end of this arc, when Yamato will hopefully detach from the Kozuki Oden persona and find their own identity). Regardless of all this, Yamato was born as a female: and Kujas give birth to female babies only.

Kaido and Big Mom comparison: Although they were part of the same pirate crew for some time and both of them being now Emperors, there are a lot of things about their characters which mark these two as counterparts: first of all, Kaido is male and Big Mom is female. Big Mom belongs to the older generations of pirates, while Kaido belongs to the new one (together with Shanks). Kaido drinks a lot while Big Mom eats a lot. Big Mom has more than 80 children, while Kaido just one*. Lastly, Big Mom has had many unknown husbands, who she married and treated as equals only to discard them when their children are born, revealing she had zero feelings towards them. With the previous comparisons in mind, it would make perfect sense for Kaido to have had only one wife who has already appeared in the story and who he has loved dearly and maybe still does.

*In my opinion, Katakuri, Oven and Daifuku aren’t Kaido’s sons. Even if the physical resemblance is uncanny, there are two major arguments against this supposed paternity: first, the triplets don’t display any type of horns, which Yamato, the known child of Kaido, has. Secondly, the Yonko’s age: he is surely younger than 68, since this is Big Mom’s age and she considers him like a little brother; however, being heavily implied that Shakuyaku was part of the Rocks Pirates as well and she was considered a pirate, while Kaido was only an apprentice, it’s implicitly stated that he must be younger than her, too. She’s now 64, and this puts his maximum age at 63; given the triplet’s age, 48, Kaido may have had them when he was 15, which is an age when men usually have reached their sexual maturity, but he may be even younger than that, so draw your conclusion.

I admit, this turned out a lot longer than I actually expected. My sincerest kudos to you, dear reader, for reading all this time-consuming post – I hope you enjoyed it as much as I had fun writing it.

Please, let me know your thoughts, they are more than welcome!

TL;DR: Gloriosa is Kaido’s wife and Yamato’s mother, she has eaten the mythical variant of the Kame Kame fruit, Katakuri is not Kaido’s son and Gin will become Pirate King.

comments on reddit :

kaido has been revealed to be 59

I really want to know who yamatos mother was and I am willing to accept any theory for now

#one piece #op theory #one piece theory #one piece theories #kaido of the beasts #kaido one piece #op kaido #one piece kaido

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stillness-in-green · 4 years ago

Text

Ahistorical, Absurd, and Unsustainable (Part Two)

An Examination of the Mass Arrest of the Paranormal Liberation Front

Introduction and Part One

PART TWO: Logistics Problems

The Initial Arrests

Looking over the events above, one thing becomes apparent almost immediately: the only one that involves numbers even resembling those at the villa are the Rice Riots, and arrests there were scattered across two months. The only thing I could find that even came close to the idea of arresting the entire PLF in a day was a mass detainment in India in 2011: in the run-up to a separatist rally[7] that had stated its intention to be a “Million Man March,” police reportedly detained 100,000 people to stop them from attending. To do this, they used auditoriums and stadiums, not actual detention facilities.

And you can see why! We see a few pictures of the Gunga Villa group in the aftermath, but they’re pictures that raise more questions than they answer. Consider this one:

The detainment and relocation of the PLF. (Chapter 296)

This is but the tiniest fraction of the people captured, but every single one of them has had their hands and arms bound. The ones we see in the basement are restrained similarly. Where did all those restraints come from? Who got them all here? Were they, perhaps, made by the man in the center, who conspicuously has lengths of the same restraint wrapped around his wrists? If so, how did he make them all so freely, when most similar quirks we see rely on a certain amount of body mass or caloric intake?

Or take those transports in the background. How many people can each hold, and how long will it take to move a group of 17,000 into secure facilities? How are those 17,000 being kept docile all that time, especially once they’ve been moved onto the transports? Will there be a hero onboard every one, making sure the prisoners don’t get the opportunity to plan amongst themselves? Were there similar transports parked at every other raid site across the rest of the country? Enough of them and their assigned heroes to move the other 98,000 people?

Consider what we know about the Paranormal Liberation Front.[8] While easiest to compare numerically to widespread protest movements, they’re unlike any historical mass arrest in that context because they are, every one of them, combat-trained and ready to give their lives for the cause. There's no one there to tell them all to stand down, at least not that we see give such an order. Trumpet, perhaps, could have, but why would he have done so? Re-Destro gave the order back in Deika, but Re-Destro seems to have lost consciousness following his battle with Edgeshot, and I much doubt he’d have given the same order here as he did when facing Shigaraki in any case.

My Hero Academia has a long history of treating police custody as something like a status effect, like once a villain has been subdued, they’re In Custody, and magically become incapable of attempting to mount an escape. But why should this be so? There’s a relatively common misconception I see in fanfic that the police have “quirk cancellation restraints,” but let’s be clear: no such device exists in the series. This is the ostensible reason All For One and Muscular are restrained so unforgivingly; it’s why the prisoners in Tartarus have guns pointed at their heads at all times. It’s why Overhaul’s drug was such a big deal and it’s why the only way to stop Gigantomachia was to drug him or have Best Jeanist bind him in steel cables.

There is no way to stop someone in MHA from using their quirk except convincing them not to, via diplomacy or intimidation, or rendering them unconscious. Which of those tactics, pray tell, is in use here, such that the enormous numbers of people at issue remain subdued until they can be moved to secure facilities?

The Liberated Districts

Another problem quickly presents itself. We’re told that the PLF’s “other bases” around the country were hit, but we weren’t shown what that looked like. We saw Slidin’ Go and another hero in a prisoner transport; we know from bonus material that people like Class 1-B and Mirio—and presumably any number of other high school hero interns from around the country—were involved in those other raids. Still, we didn’t see what those base raids actually entailed.

That’s not surprising, because “base” is not really a very accurate word to describe the scale of the problem. See, with the intention of the raids being to put a stop to the PLF in one fell swoop, rather than risk a drawn-out conflict with a force that Hawks describes as, “On par with, maybe even greater than,” the power of their hero-saturated society, the Commission would have had to take into account an aspect of the MLA that readers learned about during My Villain Academia: what Trumpet calls “liberated districts.”

Deika was a liberated district—an entire town where an enormous chunk of the population was made up of members of the MLA. Ominously, the fact that Trumpet had a ready term to describe it—“a” liberated district, not “our” liberated district, or even “the first” liberated district—suggests that Deika was not the only one.[9] Further, Curious describes what we can expect the heroes would have to contend with in such areas: people who look like everyday civilians but are actually combat-trained warriors. Combat-trained warriors not gathered in one conveniently isolated compound or solitary building, but scattered across miles of homes and businesses, schools and parks, anywhere that an ordinary person might be found spending their day.

That is an entirely different can of worms than raiding one single building; thus it is here that the logistics really start to strain. Mass arrests of a civilian populace don't work at all the same way as a round-up of people all in a single area—how do you arrest an entire town? Well, there is such a thing as martial law, or military occupation, and maybe those tactics would work if the PLF had sent all their ace combatants to the villa and all the people remaining in the target city were terrified and unarmed civilians who could be ordered to keep inside their houses until further notice lest they start getting shot. That is not at all how the bulk of the PLF—that is, the ranks of the MLA—have been portrayed, though.[10] Again, Re-Destro and Curious characterize their 116,000 warriors as all being trained, combat-ready, prepared to rise up to answer the call. That is not a population that you're going to keep cowed with a certain minimum police presence, especially as time drags on.

Anyway, an occupation is clearly out-of-keeping with how the text presents the operation being run. We’re given no reason to assume other raids were any different than the ones we saw: a team of heroes launches a coordinated assault with a backline set up to catch stragglers. We’re told, after all, that the other sympathizers were “rounded up,” so extended detainment-in-place clearly wasn’t the intention. That just returns us to the problem, though.

According to Trumpet, Deika was 90% MLA. Presumably it was one of their higher-concentration bases, yes, but the situation isn’t any simpler in places that are “only” e.g. 80%, 70%, 60% inducted. It only becomes complicated in different ways.

Imagine a 70% liberated district. PLF-adherents are in the government, the municipal operations, the schools, the stores. How does this town keep running in a state of mass arrest? If the 70% are removed, what are the other 30% to do? Is the town even livable in that state? Will the remainder have to relocate? Can they afford that, and if not, what measures will be taken to help them? How quickly can those measures be enacted?[11]

The liberated districts present a bevy of other problems, too, but we’ll come back to those in Part Three.

Detainment Facilities

Let’s look at some more real-world facts and numbers.

As of 2018, Japan had 184 penal institutions, a term which covers prisons, detention houses, and juvenile facilities of either type. There are 70 prisons, 108 detention houses (eight of which are major facilities; the rest smaller branch locations), and 6 juvenile facilities. Their official capacity—that is, the number of occupants they are considered able to house without becoming overcrowded—is roughly 89,000. Their current population is around 48,000.

This puts Japan’s prison density—how close they are to being at full capacity—at 54%. They could not even double their occupancy without becoming overcrowded. Looking back to our PLF numbers, this tells us that real-life Japan could take an influx of 17,000. They absolutely could not take an influx of 115,000.

Here’s another way to look at it: in Japan currently, the rate of incarceration is 38 people per 100,000, in a population of 126 million. Adding the PLF to those numbers would mean they're incarcerating 130 per 100,000—more than triple the amount.

There’s another problem on top of the capacity issue: in Japan, penal institutions are divided up by what kind of prisoner they’re intended to house. Remand prisoners—that is, pre-trial detainees—are to be housed in different facilities than convicted prisoners. Convicted prisoners are sorted further by demographic traits, the type of offense they’ve committed, whether or not it was their first offense, and so on. For example, there’s an entire prison in Chiba Prefecture dedicated to housing men convicted of traffic violations; elsewhere, even murderers are subdivided according to criminal affiliation and likelihood of reoffending.

The relevance here is obvious. The problem isn't merely that there is limited prison capacity, but that that capacity is further limited by what space is available in the correct type of prison. And I am very prepared to bet that All For One prioritized targeting prisons that held violent offenders; he even implies as much when he describes the people he freed as violent escapees.

Speaking of All For One’s prison breaks, let’s take a look at some canonical numbers. They offer both information that mitigates the problems above, but also present new reasons to be concerned.

All For One, the night of his escape from Tartarus, targets seven other prisons, managing to free at least some inmates from six of them. Including the Tartarus escapees, 10,000 convicts are freed.

10,000 from seven prisons. Consider again the numbers above: Japan currently houses less than five times that many in twenty-six times as many penal institutions. In general, prisons don’t hold anywhere near those numbers—the largest one in Japan houses just barely over 2,000; even one that houses 500 is considered to be a large inmate population.[12]

I did some math based on the numbers I had available, and my rough estimate is that, in Japan, about 88% of the carceral population—42,000 people—are housed in the for-real prisons; the other 12% are remand prisoners and a negligible percent are incarcerated minors.

The MHA numbers are wildly, wildly higher. Now, this makes sense. In this post by @codenamesazanka, she notes that the first My Hero Academia movie describes Japan’s crime rate as a somewhat vaguely defined 6%, and estimates that this means the crime rate in MHA’s Japan is seven times higher than in real life—and that this is drastically lower than anywhere else in the world thanks solely to All Might! In other parts of the world, the crime rate is over 20% at minimum. So it seems reasonable to assume that Japan’s carceral capacity has increased likewise. Not, I think, to the degree that they automatically have the prison space to match their crime rate, but certainly more space than in real life.

Assuming, then, that MHA’s Japan has far more and/or far larger prison facilities, that also means they must need that kind of space—which means the space is already in use. Which, again, takes us back to the problem of overcrowding. If not—if the country is easily capable of dumping 115,000 people in prison without even causing a ripple of difficulty—then that implies its own deeply harrowing things about the rate of incarceration in the country. Either way, it sounds like a country that badly, badly needs to find a better way of doing things.

Legal Proceedings

Here’s another issue to consider: the legal proceedings. See, Edgeshot says this:

The hero Edgeshot explains why protecting the country requires these sixteen-year-olds be on the frontlines in a fight with people absolutely ready to kill them. Words cannot describe how much I wanted Re-Destro to knot this guy around a tree. (Chapter 263)

“If any of them get out, they could keep terrorizing other places.”

So assume for a moment that everything went exactly according to plan. Virtually all 115,000 members of the Liberation Front got rounded up, there’s easily enough room for them in Japan’s correctional facilities, and now the entire organization is awaiting trial. What happens next?

The Judicial Process

To provide some context for those of my readers whose only exposure to the judicial process is pop culture depictions, the very first thing that should happen after a person is arrested in the U.S. is a pre-trial appearance, at which people are formally told what the charges against them are and bail is set or denied. Non-violent offenders, provided they have someone able to post bail, are usually able to await their trial date at home, albeit under travel restrictions. Typically this pre-trial hearing should be within two business days; if a detainee hasn’t seen a judge in that time, the prosecutors’ office is obligated to let them go.[13] This doesn’t necessarily mean the person is off the hook entirely, of course; they can be arrested again later. It just means they’re free to go for the time being.

I don’t think for one second that Japan’s legal system can handle processing an influx the size of the PLF in just a few days. For comparison’s sake, in 2018 (the same year all my incarceration numbers come from, incidentally), 206,000 people were arrested in total, for the whole year. So will the overflow just be let go? Released to their homes to wait for the police to come back when they have more time? Yet that doesn’t seem to track with how Edgeshot was talking, does it?

On the one hand, if you look at the numbers from some of my historical analogues, it’s very consistent that only a small portion of people swept up in mass arrests in Japan ever actually reach trial. For the Rice Riots and the March 15 Incident, that portion is about a third—quite sizeable, given the numbers involved—but the others are lower still: the long-term arrests under the Peace Preservation Laws saw only about a twelfth of those arrested actually brought to trial; for the Righteous Army, it was less than a tenth.

Frankly, you don't arrest those kinds of numbers and then actually prosecute all of them; you arrest them to scare the shit out of people, and then you try the ringleaders and whichever others you have the most dirt on. This is the pattern in every other instance that involves over a thousand people being arrested.

On the other hand, even setting aside the fact that people can apparently be dropped in Tartarus without trial now,[14] a significant difference between the U.S. and Japan is that pretrial detention can stretch on and on and on in Japan. Legally speaking, charges should be filed with 72 hours, but prosecutors can request ten more days twice, then repeat the process over by adding other potential charges about which they need to question the suspect. So, yes, I suppose that, if the authorities do have the facilities to keep the PLF in, there’s nothing stopping them from dragging this detainment out indefinitely—it just isn’t very in-keeping with the historical record to do so with all of them.

As you might expect, lengthy detainments are a massively controversial aspect of the Japanese legal system to human rights activists both locally and abroad, since the loophole of detainees not yet having been charged or tried allows police to get around a lot of the rights that are supposed to be guaranteed, particularly the right to legal representation.[15]

So, now that I’ve brought up the right to legal counsel, here’s another procedural issue: due to a generally non-litigious culture and a very difficult bar exam, there's a dearth of attorneys in Japan. Defense attorneys have a particularly hard time; thanks to the presumption of guilt of those arrested by police, and an oft-vicious ostracization of criminals, it's seen as something of a blemish on one's character to willingly defend the accused, so defense lawyers are frequently unpopular and underpaid. I have to assume MHA is facing similar problems.[16] Good luck finding all the people you need to investigate and defend the new glut of people in the system, though!

No, the reason real-life Japan’s legal system can go on functioning even with a shortage of lawyers is, I suspect, that compared to how long pre-trial detention can go on, trials are fairly quick. Legally, they're required to last no longer than a few weeks. There is, however, concern among some in the legal profession that cases are not being examined closely enough, leading to preventable errors and miscarriages of justice,[17] due to both the haste with which trials are conducted and aspects of Japan's “lay judge” system.

Lay judges are a unique feature of Japan's legal system, in some ways similar to—and in other ways very distinct from—a jury of one’s peers. As in a U.S. jury, lay judges are a panel randomly selected from the citizenry to hear evidence and render judgement. However, where jurists are a passive audience to the presentation of the case, only debating the merits behind closed doors after the case concludes, lay judges are encouraged to take active part in the trial process, empowered to question witnesses and challenge evidence. The lay judges are joined by a smaller number of professional judges; a verdict requires a majority vote of the judges' panel, in which at least one vote is that of said professional judges.

As to what this has to do with concerns about justice, consider, if you will, how the requirements of a system that demands active involvement from its participants might intersect with the (self-)perception of the Japanese people as modest and not wanting to “make trouble” for others, particularly when combined with a widespread belief that suspects would not be brought to trial if they weren’t guilty. Additionally, in the specific context of My Hero Academia, consider how bias about villains or “villainous quirks” will influence such judgements.

I’ll talk more about the presupposition of guilt in Japan and how it relates to the treatment of suspects by both officials and the public in Part Three, but for now, let’s consider the trial itself. What will the charges be? What will the sentences be? How long will the PLF members be in prison? And will that time in prison do the slightest thing to prevent them from going right back to what they were doing when they get out? Are they just going to be imprisoned indefinitely? Until they say they change their minds?

When I began my research, there were two main things I wanted to examine in regard to crimes the PLF at large might be on the hook for: membership in an illegal organization and conspiracy to commit acts of terrorism.

Japan and Illegal Organizations

So here’s the thing: Japan doesn’t criminalize membership in organizations categorically. Because of the government’s history abusing laws to crack down on labor organizations and political dissent—e.g. the March 15 Incident—any attempts to legislate the process of banning criminal organizations get significant pushback from freedom of speech advocates. After all, critics say, the police may say that your community activist group doesn’t count as a terrorist organization now, but what’s actually stopping them from categorizing it as such in the future?

Now, that’s not to say Japan doesn’t have ways to regulate such groups at all! I’ll talk more about this later on, but briefly, groups that are found likely to be advocating for “terroristic subversive activity” can be forcibly barred from e.g. printing their organizational material, holding public assemblies, or owning property under the group’s name. One thing that isn’t mentioned in those prohibitions, though, is actual membership in the organization. That’s because, as I said, Japan is hugely gun-shy about criminalizing membership in any sort of organization, even organizations that have been declared criminal.[18]

It’s illegal to pick mushrooms on conservation lands if you’re doing it to raise money for your terrorist organization. It’s illegal to use protest sit-ins against new apartment buildings if you’re doing it on behalf of the mob. But it is not illegal to simply be a member of a terrorist organization or the mob—not even if that group has been formally dissolved by the government.

We can see a few places where this holds true even in the universe of My Hero Academia. The Shie Hassaikai is, like many yakuza groups, under police surveillance, but not barred outright from existing. Likewise, whatever prohibition there might once have been on printing material in support of the Metahuman Liberation Army has clearly lapsed, otherwise Curious would never have gotten away with reprinting Destro’s memoir.

Being a member of the MLA was likely not illegal as such, not any more so than membership in Aum Shinrikyo (currently calling themselves Aleph) or yakuza groups are in real life—they’re surveilled, sure, their activities curtailed, absolutely, but banned outright? Not so much. And membership in the PLF certainly wouldn't be banned even if it were legal to ban such memberships, seeing as it's brand new and, at the time of the raid, would not yet have been targeted for restrictions on its activity, lest such targeting tip the group off that the government was aware of its existence.

Keep that last point in mind; we’ll be coming back to it later, too.

Conspiracy

So, if membership in the PLF isn’t illegal in and of itself, what else can the government use to charge the 115,000 people they preemptively arrested?

Well, in general, for someone to be tried for a crime, they need to be either caught in the act or caught in an attempt. An attempted crime is something that is in immediate danger of happening—for example, if someone tries to kidnap a baby from the pediatric wing of a hospital but is caught by security before they make it out of the building, that’s an attempted kidnapping. An attempted crime may or may not be punished with the same severity as a successfully enacted crime, depending on the nature of the offense and the local laws.

What an attempted crime differs from, however, is a planned crime. If someone was planning to commit tax evasion but decided not to, they cannot be charged with tax evasion. This is how most criminal charges work—you can’t be charged with something you didn’t at least try to do, regardless of how close you came to it, and a policeman who tries to goad someone into such a crime should rightfully be running into charges of entrapment.

There are, unsurprisingly, some exceptions. It’s not uncommon for countries to criminalize planning insurrection or treason, and in cases like that, police are under absolutely no obligation to wait around for an active attempt before they respond. They can and will move as soon as they have sufficient evidence to get an arrest warrant. For lesser offenses, though, the legality of the advance-planning of a crime varies from country to country, and this is where we start getting into conspiracy.

Conspiracy in the legal sense has a couple of elements: it must be something that 1) two or more people 2) knowingly 3) discussed a plan for, which 4) led at least one person in the group to commit a “preparatory action.” i.e. do something to advance aforementioned plan.[19] All of these elements have to be proven to get everyone in a group on a conspiracy charge, though not all members of a group have to be in on all parts of a plan. If these elements are met, then everyone in the group can be charged with any and all crimes committed over the course of the plan being carried out, regardless of each member’s individual involvement.

What all this means for our purposes is that, because the heroes made the first move, they have to get the PLF on something that is illegal to even plan, not something that only becomes illegal in the attempt.[20] Huge portions of the PLF may wind up being released if the police can't conclusively prove not merely their association with the PLF, but also their direct knowledge of the relevant plans—not difficult for the ringleaders, obviously, but much dicier when you start getting out into the liberated districts. If the prosecution can't prove that knowledge, and lacks confessions otherwise—and as I’ll discuss in more detail later, a confession in and of itself is not considered sufficient; there has to be corroborating evidence[21]—huge swathes of those people are going to get cut loose.

So what are police going to be looking for? What crimes can the PLF be charged with under current law, and what are the sentences for such crimes like?

Prior to 1952, conspiracy was only illegal in the following cases: insurrection, treason, or aiding/abetting/instigating either of the above. Conspiracy to commit treason as a charge is right out—everything the PLF is doing, they’re doing for their own sake and for the sake of the future of Japan, not for the sake of a foreign power. Conspiracy to commit/instigate insurrection is more debatable, but, surprisingly, shakier than it might appear at first. This is because of the specific, legal definition of the term.

Japan’s Penal Code defines insurrection as rioting for the purpose of overthrowing the government, usurping the sovereignty of the State, or otherwise subverting constitutional order. The middle clause, the one regarding territorial sovereignty, is obviously not at issue—the PLF is not attempting to stake out land for a new country and secede. It’s the rest of the description that’s debatably more applicable, but still, to my eye, not an easy guilty verdict.

Firstly, per Hawks’ description of the plan, the PLF at least wants the government and the constitutional order intact enough for the Hearts & Minds Party to “storm the political world,” which to me suggests that their target is public opinion, not the intangible apparatus of the government itself. Further, even if you did argue that their manipulation of public opinion constitutes subversion of the constitutional order, you’d also have to argue the rioting part, and we have no idea whether any of the PLF’s plans actually involved a significant number of people mobbing in public as opposed to e.g. small strike teams.

So is the PLF off the hook? Not hardly! The Penal Code was established in 1907, after all—it’s been expanded lots since then, and those expansions are where the PLF really starts to run into trouble.

The Subversive Activities Prevention Act of 1952 criminalized a number of conspiracy-to-commit crimes—crimes like arson and homicide—if said crimes were to be undertaken “with the intent to promote, support or oppose any political doctrine or policy.” For example, conspiring to burn down a bank was not criminalized. Conspiring to burn down a bank as an act of protest against a new tax law became illegal as all get-out.

This gets us where we need to be for the PLF, as, on top of the crimes laid out in the 1952 act, I am very prepared to believe that acts of villainy (that is, illegal quirk use) in advancement of political ends have been folded into this particular branch of Japanese law.[22] So then, what kind of conspiracy charges are we looking at here, and what associated crimes?

I see two major possibilities at this point, and they hinge on exactly how much the prosecution ties Shigaraki’s attack on Jaku and Gigantomachia’s destruction to the run-of-the-mill PLF member sitting in a backwater town somewhere doing nothing more involved than e.g. quirk training and attending weekly meetings to get updates on where the plans stand for their local regiment’s part of the big push the following month. It’s difficult to say how feasible it is to make that connection—there are provisions in Japanese law for group criminal liability, but they tend to require things like joint actions, or specific knowledge and intent regarding the crime in question.

Obviously, random PLF members nowhere near Machia’s path of destruction didn’t take joint actions to abet it, so the pertinent question is, was Machia going on a rampage part of the plan? How about Shigaraki’s destruction of Jaku? If so, how much did random PLF members know about it? How specific does that knowledge need to be? If, say, the original plan had Shigaraki decaying the greater part of Hosu, does it still meet the specific knowledge requirement if he wound up decaying Jaku instead? If Machia was supposed to stampede across Tokyo, do the PLF members who chased after him count as furthering a conspiracy to do so when he stomped across Osaka and Kyoto instead?

Frankly, I don’t think we can say for sure how much a randomly selected member of the rank and file would have known. Any knowledge they had would have been many steps removed from the people actually making the plan; I would tend to think that the outer reaches of the PLF mostly knew about whatever plan their specific group would be tasked with, but would have much patchier knowledge of plans beyond that immediate sphere. As to how much that matters to the courts? Well, let’s take a look at the final logistics problem: the sentencing.

Sentencing Standards

First things first: I absolutely do not think the death penalty is on the table for the rank and file. People like Shigaraki and Dabi, yes, based on their pre-PLF crimes alone; Re-Destro and the other lieutenants are certainly a strong possibility. But the rank and file? No. Looking at our historical referents, it has never been the case that every single person involved in a mass arrest incident has been sentenced equally harshly, even in the case of the February 26 Incident’s outright uprising against the state! And that was in a time where human rights were considerably less enshrined in the constitution; in the modern day, the death penalty is usually reserved for murder cases,[23] typically only those involving multiple murders or particularly aggravated cases involving torture or ransom.

Whether or not the courts could attempt to punish all of the members of the PLF for all the deaths caused by Shigaraki and Gigantomachia under group criminal liability provisions, the degree of mass international outcry sentencing 115,000 people to death would involve is difficult to fathom. Egypt's 2014 mass trials of the Muslim Brotherhood are a good referent, and they “only” involved about 1,200 people.[24] Multiplying that number ten times over? I very much doubt Horikoshi is prepared to even imply that the system all these cute kids want to grow up and join is anywhere near that grisly and authoritarian.

Anyway, if the MHA government were that quick to hand down death sentences, I very much doubt Stain or All For One would still be alive—or, indeed, that Tartarus would serve much function at all. It's described, after all, as a place that houses those who threaten Japan's security on a fundamental, national level. That's the kind of thing countries keep death penalties around for.

That said, let’s assume for the time being that Shigaraki and Machia will be treated as their own thing, and what the PLF are going to be tried for is more in tune with the plan as Hawks laid it out. Remember again that the heroes attacked preemptively. This means that, in this scenario, all the conspiracy stuff is on the table, but it’s the only thing on the table—because it’s all the PLF had time to get to! There might be a few other charges—for example, if the black market support good proliferation is part of their plan, and the weapon proliferation is already underway, the whole group could feasibly be charged with whatever crime covers illegal weapon distribution. However, whatever crimes those support goods would be used to commit haven’t happened yet, so on that front, the PLF is still only on the hook for planning them.

Here, then, is what the Penal Code and its relevant revisions have to say about conspiracy sentences:

If they do wind up getting the group on conspiracy to incite insurrection:

A person who prepares for or plots an insurrection is punished by imprisonment without work for not less than 1 year but not more than 10 years.

(…)

A person who aids the commission of any of the crimes prescribed above by the supply of arms, funds, or food, or by any other act, is punished by imprisonment without work for not more than 7 years.

So that’s kinda bad! Not as bad as if they’d actually gotten to the insurrection, which is when death penalties and life sentences for ringleaders and key figures start cropping up, but still pretty bad! Seven years in prison is almost certainly enough time for a lot of those people to do some serious reconsideration of their life priorities!

As I already said, though, I think the insurrection charge is shaky. So what if they wind up instead charging the PLF with conspiracy to commit villainy for political aims?

Well, that’s why this whole section is in the logistics portion of this essay, because the sentencing for politically motivated villainy probably looks a lot more like this:

If it’s a crime on the level of, for political aims, preparing, plotting, inducing, or inciting:

Arson, illegal use of explosives, homicide, or robbery involving assault or intimidation: imprisonment with or without work for a term not exceeding five years.

A public disturbance: imprisonment with or without work for a term not exceeding three years.

A hazard for a train, tram, or vessel: imprisonment with or without work for a term not exceeding—oh, three years again.

The assault or intimidation of a public employee in the performance of public duty[25]: spoilers, it’s imprisonment for not more than three years again.

Five years or less. Three years or less.

Is that enough time to make people reconsider their life choices? Especially people who have been raised all their lives to follow the cause of Liberation?

Remember that when the heroes attacked, the intention was a clean sweep, a preventative tactic to stop the villains before they could enact any of their terroristic plans. Yet if they intended to stop things at a point where only conspiracy would be punishable, is three years in prison all that Edgeshot thought these people would be in for when he said that if a single one of them escaped, they might go on to terrorize other places? What was Japan’s government and/or the Hero Public Safety Commission planning to do in three years, or five years, or ten years, when 17,000 to 115,000 people were released en masse from prison, free to return to their lives? It certainly seems like they had more stringent consequences in mind, does it?

Of course, there are other factors to consider.

Lots of these people would, presumably, be up on multiple charges, compounding their sentences. Certainly, if Shigaraki and Gigantomachia are tied to the rest of the group, their tolls of death and destruction could potentially be applied to any and all co-conspirators. And maybe the penalties for conspiracy to commit politically motivated villainy are worse. Maybe the prosecutors will push for insurrection conspiracy charges regardless of their applicability, and the Japanese courts will just let them, because there will be a profound thirst for “justice” after Gigantomachia’s rampage and a few human rights violations or abuses of the law will seem like just what the Paranormal Liberation Front members had coming to them.

Maybe, behind the immediate logistical problems presented by this mass arrest, there are a whole fleet of problems of a different nature.

Next time: let’s talk ethics.

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

Footnotes (Part Two)

[7] Whose supporters were eventually successful, by the way. Look up the Telangana movement.

[8] For example, “Skeptic can access such high-tech satellites that he can get up-to-the-minute views on the heroes approaching Gigantomachia, but he somehow didn’t notice a literal hero battalion bearing down on the villa until they were charging out of the tree line? Seriously?”

[9] Frankly, another 2-3 Deikas is the simplest way to explain how they can have a group that big and still be totally unknown to society at large. Far easier to maintain a cult’s required isolation and secrecy when your strongholds are more “this town and everyone you know and love in it” and less “this fancy resort that everyone has to drive thirty minutes to an hour to get to from the totally normal towns they actually live in.”

[10] And frankly, I don't know that that the, “All their really good combatants are at the villa,” assumption is even justified, given that you'd think the people at the villa for the “conference” are more likely to be the people who are going to be involved in coordinating the upcoming assaults—lots of great combatants, sure, but also people who are going to be doing the organizational work, the supply work, etc.

[11] Presumably, at this point, our hypothetical 30% will be instructed to relocate to one of the hero school shelters, but that obviously wouldn’t have been in the plan from the beginning, given that the shelters were only opened after heroes started retiring in droves.

[12] For comparison, a mid-sized prison is considered by the American Jail Association to have 50 to 249 beds, and we’re way more prone to incarceration than Japan is.

[13] For example, in 2005 in Baltimore, so many arrests were being made based on quality-of-life crimes like loitering that the system couldn't keep up, leading to thousands of people having to be released because they just couldn't be processed in time.

[14] When AFO was first brought in, we were told that his remand to Tartarus pre-trial was without precedent. However, Chapter 297 describes Tartarus as a detention facility that only calls itself a prison—remember, in Japan, remand prisoners are supposed to be kept separate from tried and sentenced prisoners. Thus, Tartarus should be reserved only for those who are sentenced to it, or it shouldn't contain sentenced prisoners at all. But with 297, we find that such is no longer the case, as people can be put there “regardless of their sentencing status.” It's unclear whether this change was a rapid case of slippery slope in-universe or whether it's a simple retcon.

[15] Suspects get one visit from a “duty lawyer” for free during detention, but otherwise, the right to counsel only kicks in after charges are filed, and lawyers are not allowed to be present during questioning.

[16] Among many other factors, it would certainly help explain why All For One hasn't even been brought to trial yet. Hell, we don't even know if he's really been formally charged, though Pixie Bob’s comment back in Chapter 184 could easily be interpreted as meaning that the questioning process is still ongoing. AFO needs a Yasuda Yoshihiro, clearly.

[17] Though both acquittals and convictions can be appealed.

[18] An “organized criminal group” per Japanese law has a few qualifications to meet. They need to be committing crimes in an organized fashion, obviously, and there are laws determining which crimes qualify, but further, they need to be a sustained organization, one in which members have assigned roles and duties such that those duties advance a common cause sought after by the organization as a whole. Ergo, a yakuza group definitely qualifies, while an impromptu group of people who got together to murder their boss but who have no further common cause afterward does not. Groups like the Metahuman Liberation Army and the Shie Hassaikai obviously meet these standards, but e.g. the League of Villains, lacking much in the way of a common cause or defined roles, might not.

[19] Like buying a ski mask if their plan to rob a bank involves ski masks.

[20] This, obviously, applies only to members of the PLF who haven’t already broken other laws. The League is boned no matter what. Likewise, there are laws against e.g. harboring criminals that could be brought to bear against whoever maintains the villa, and so on and so forth.

[21] Though one huge issue is that other peoples' confessions can be counted as evidence against you, and yours against others.

[22] A highly controversial anti-conspiracy law in 2017 criminalized the planning of a whole array of new crimes, some bizarrely innocuous-looking, but because it was aimed mostly at the yakuza and other groups engaged in human trafficking, the new roster was generally criminalized on the basis that they were crimes intended to gain some material benefit for the organization planning them. The PLF’s plans were going to do a lot of things, but provide material benefit—a legal term for something that has monetary value—is decidedly not one of them.

[23] Though there are 19 offenses for which it is legally invokable.

[24] The greater majority of the sentences were commuted to “only” being life sentences, but that only by virtue of a relatively powerful upper court, which Egypt’s president has been working to diminish ever since. The state of fair trials and humane prison conditions in the country is pretty appalling right now.

[25] Continued, “committed collectively by carrying any deadly weapon or poison, against any person engaged in prosecutorial or police duties, any assistant to such official, any person who guards or escorts persons in legal custody, or any person engaged in an investigation under this Act.” There are a lot of riders on this one.

#bnha analysis #bnha meta #paranormal liberation front #meta liberation army #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #bnha spoilers #my writing #plf arrests #stillness has salt

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foilfreak · 4 years ago

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BEAUTY AND HER BEAST: Chapter 8

WARNING PLZ READ BEFORE CONTINUING: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(AO3 Link Below:)

Several days had passed since Salvatore had sought out both his younger sisters, requesting items like jewelry or clothing they’d be willing to part with that Salvatore could gift to Nadine, as a sort of soft and informal introduction to ease the young woman’s mind and prove he meant her no harm.

The plan seems to be going rather well, as far as Salvatore can tell. Nadine found the gifts he’d laid out for her rather easily, and even correctly wondered if the person who lived here had left them for her purposefully. She seemed wary of the items for a time, though she seemed pretty wary of everything in the reservoir at the moment, but eventually she deemed them safe enough to accept, throwing the long white nightgown Salvatore had procured from Donna over her petit azure frame, and strapping the delicate golden locket Alcina had graciously donated around her neck.

Salvatore practically drooled when he first saw Nadine, slightly sheer satin nightgown flowing elegantly in the gentle afternoon breeze and golden chain glittering beautifully against her white speckled, ocean blue skin. She looked like a goddess, a true figure of pure ethereal power and beauty. Even the biting cold of winter wasn’t enough to touch the young woman, shielded and protected by her own glowing radiance.

Despite looking every bit like an other-worldly deity worthy of unending human devotion and worship, Nadine’s face held nothing but fear, anxiety, and loneliness as she aimlessly wandered the seemingly empty docks and windmills surrounding the reservior’s watery interior. An occasional dejected “hello?” still echoes out throughout the reservoir every few hours, growing less and less hopeful with each passing round of silence Salvatore spends hiding away from view.

The disfigured man’s heart twists and stabs in pain every time he cowers away from Nadine’s soft, anxious calls, desperately wanting to comfort the young woman in her moment of confusion and fear, but still so terrified of her inevitable reaction to his appearance that he finds himself unable to do anything but skitter shamefully to his room beneath the surface and try to drown her out with one of his old romance films.

How pitiful.

Salvatore spends much of his time lamenting and pitying himself over his soul crushing loneliness and his intense desire for a love of his own, and yet here he is, taking refuge in an old romance film while he hides himself away from the real woman he could be making his own romance film with, were he not a massive coward and a horrific freak of nature unworthy of anyone’s love and affection, of course. What a cruel irony it is, to have the one thing you want, more than anything else in the world, dangled just inches in front of your face, and yet knowing, before you’ve even tried, that it’ll never be yours.

Salvatore knows that no matter how much of a romance story this whole situation might seem like, Nadine will never be able to love him in the way the gorgeous women in the movies love their tall, dashing, dark-haired lover men. Not only was Salvatore the exact opposite of tall and dashing by literally everyone’s standards, but his patches of dry, greasy dark-hair did little to salvage the violent wreckage that was Salvatore’s whole appearance.

There was absolutely no way Nadine would ever be able to love someone as hideous as Salvatore, so perhaps the best thing to do would be to contact Miranda and inform her that, while he greatly enjoyed his gift, Salvatore didn’t feel he would be able to appreciate her in the way she deserved to be appreciated in all her beauty and wonder, and that perhaps it would be better for Mother Miranda to find better arrangements for her elsewhere.

“I-it’s for the b-best… i-i think… a-after all… Nadine… d-doesn’t want t-to live i-in a d-dingy place… l-like this for… for the r-rest of h-her… l-life… m-much less with… w-with someone l-like me… s-she’d hate th-that… im c-certain” Salvatore laments aloud, dipping his head downward as tears of painful realization and sorrowful acceptance pour down his face like waterfalls of lonely depression, already fully set on contacting Mother Miranda as soon as morning came.

“While it's very kind of you to keep my best interest in mind, I do think I am more than capable of making my own decisions regarding what’s the best place for me, thank you very much” a soft voice responded suddenly, causing Salvatore’s head to whip in the direction the sound was coming from in startled shock. “This place is a little rundown, sure, but the windmills still stand tall and the water is always just the right temperature, so I don’t think this would be the worst place to live, if I had to… so long as I wasn’t alone, at least.”

Even in the dimly lit area located at the end of the hallway, Nadine still looked so gorgeously stunning and elegant. It was incredible how she managed to sound so casual and yet look so ethereal.

In the brief moment before his panic set in, Salvatore couldn’t help but pause and marvel at the spot down the hall where the young woman stood, her gaze locked directly onto him and yet she showed no signs of having seen him. She even went as far as to begin moving about behind the large boards that blocked her from entering the room, clearly trying to get a better look at the room and, more importantly, the person she suspects is in it.

After a surprisingly large jump that launched Nadine all the way up to the ceiling, just narrowly avoiding hitting her head, Salvatore’s eyes grew wide and his mouth hung open in stupefied shock as the sight of Nadine, moving the way she was at the end of the hallway, brought to Salvatore’s mind a scene from one of his favorite romance films. In the particular scene Salvatore is thinking of, the actress’ character is an aspiring prima ballerina, and she’s having a brief moment of bonding with her fellow ballerina’s after a long, but successful performance. Dressed in a nightgown not too unlike the one Nadine is currently wearing, the ballerina is showing the others how to do other kinds of dance, like polka or Irish step dancing, but by the end of the scene the group of ballerinas are all merely jumping about the room excitedly, laughing and cheering while carelessly throwing themselves into the air, only to land gracefully back on their feet.

While not exactly the same obviously, the resemblance between Nadine and the absolutely stunning ballerina in the movie, in both silhouette and style of movement, was almost uncanny.

Stretched out as high as her short legs would allow, strong and gorgeously defined muscles flexed almost instinctually with every rapid twist, curl, bend, and jump of the young woman’s tiny body. Her lucious silhouette was only aided by the feminine aura of the long, sheer nightgown as it trailed after her with every movement. The delicate satin material caresses the sharp ridges of her muscular back and shoulders with the same tenderness and love as it does the weight of her breasts or the pillowy layer of protection atop her midsection. The lower half of the nightgown, cinched just below the breasts, twisted and jerked in whatever direction was necessary to keep up with the speed at which Nadine was fluttering and jumping about upon the tips of her toes. Her legs were hidden by the ferocious speed of her movements, but Salvatore did not need to see her legs to have some idea of what they were, or perhaps merely could be, capable of.

Whether or not Nadine was actually a ballerina herself, or if Salvatore’s delusions were merely that realistic now, the young woman appeared to move with nothing but effortless grace that hides the raw power and physical strength it takes to float as carelessly and as quickly as the young woman was, clearly growing more and more frustrated the longer her search failed to reveal what she was looking for.

Still paralyzed by the sudden presence of Nadine in his personal space, Salvatore could do nothing but hold his breath and hope that the light at the end of the hall didn’t reach far enough to reveal his presence in the room. The TV was still on, but the movie playing on it had finished running long ago, meaning the only thing being displayed now was a static filled screen that proved someone had been here at some point in time, but thankfully wasn’t a dead giveaway from the start.

“Helloooooooo… I heard someone talking on my way in, so I know that someone is down here. Please… just come out, ok… I won’t hurt you… honestly” the raven haired woman begs softly, her movements slowing a bit to allow more of her air to be used for speaking rather than jumping to look over beams over and over again.

Salvatore’s heart ached at Nadine’s desperate tone, knowing all too well what the mutant woman is going through right now, but trying his best to remain strong, since giving in means dooming this perfect young specimen to a life of bitter misery and unending terror, regardless of the best effort he’d try to put in. Whatever short term gain Nadine could get from being with him would only come back to bleed her dry once Salvatore was sufficiently attached, and therefore unable to allow her to leave once she inevitably decides that she’s had enough of pretending to love a disgusting freak of nature.

Salvatore had never been very good at accurately predicting the outcomes of situations, but he knew for certain that Nadine was in no way deserving of the hellish punishment that living in the reservoir with him would undoubtedly become, if it didn’t start out that way from the beginning, that is. Perhaps the young woman could convince herself to accept her situation and play into his affections as a means of survival for a short time, but based on what he’s heard of Nadine thus far, Salvatore doubts such a strongwilled and dangerous woman would allow herself to play wife and sex slave to anyone for very long. If she didn’t somehow successfully murder him in his sleep within the first 48 hours of her “slavery”, it would only be a matter of time before she finally ran out of patience and unleashed... whatever the hell it was she did back in the labs, upon him.

For a brief moment, Salvatore entertains the question of whether Nadine could potentially be strong enough to take him out with a single hit, as well as whether that thought should be something he finds arousing or not. His thoughts are quickly interrupted however, by the sound of shuffling and grunting, and upon turning his head toward the sudden racket, Salvatore is horrified to see Nadine, just small enough to fit her tiny body between the thin cracks of the boarded up wall, attempting to climb through the barrier, and enter the TV room.

Body shaking and voice beginning to tremble slightly, alongside his already labored breathing, Salvatore unsteadily backed his way further into the room, putting his hands out in front of him as if to try and stop Nadine from entering, though he makes no move to physically eject the invading woman himself, oddly enough.

“N-nooo… p-please… don’t come i-in...” Salvatore stutters helplessly, shrinking further in on himself in fear as the young woman effortlessly slips through the wooden boards like a slippery eel, quickly and easily landing on her feet before turning back to the mostly darkened room.

“H-Hello?” Nadine calls out again nervously, taking a tentative step forward, both hands extended outward beside her until her left hand made contact with the wall. Gaining some purchase on the vertical slabs of wood, Nadine slowly turns her head to look about the room, carefully inspecting everything from atop the surface of Salvatore’s messy desk, to the very dark corner in the back right of the room that Salvatore himself was currently shoved as far into as physically possible.

Nadine stuck her arm out in front of her and began slowly walking toward the opposite wall, eyes open, but unfocused, and right hand waving aimlessly in the air for a brief moment, as though trying to feel around for the other wall despite it clearly being right in front of her. The hooded man had no idea how she hadn’t seen him yet, he could practically feel how absolutely ridiculous he looked, his bony, weathered, turtle-esque body hunched as low to the ground as possible with his chin tucked between his knees and hands covering the rest of his face, leaving only the smallest bit of space through which he could observe Nadine’s inevitable reaction to him. And yet, despite the amount of time the young woman spent glancing over Salvatore, back and forth across the room, her bright golden eyes resembling that of a ravenous alligator in their intensity and ferociousness, no scream left her plush lips nor did fear and horror suddenly mar her supple face. In fact, not only had the mutant woman not seen him yet, but it was in that exact moment that the reason why Nadine couldn’t see Salvatore, obviously shoved into the corner, just to her bottom left, became immediately clear to him.

“Y-You’re blind...”

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skylarmoon71 · 4 years ago

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Raphael x Parker Reader- Chapter 16 (TMNT 2014/2016)

“Watch out!!”

You jump to warn them, but the explosion shoves you back. Your body hits the side of the wall and Raph breaks right through the window, rushing over to you.

“(Y/N)!!!”

He catches your arm, right before you go over the ledge. You aren’t moving, and your head is hanging low. He hoists you up, out of danger. As he pulls you into his arms, there isn’t a response, and there’s a notable gash on the right side of your head. The blood is dripping, and he’s praying you’re okay.

“Raph is she alright!” Leo is dealing with his own little crisis, because the blast has not only left you unconscious, but also managed to force Mikey into a tough position. He’s buried under the rubble. Donnie and Leo are trying to clear the path. None of them even saw this coming. It was clearly an ambush.

Apparently the criminals weren’t as stupid as they thought. There was word about an upcoming gang forming. Vincent insisted she wanted to bring in their team, but Leo thought it best that they check it out first. Which proved to be the right call. Who knew how many casualties there would have been if officers had stormed the place.

The rocks are cleared, but Mikey isn’t conscious. Leo grinds his teeth. Both boys move on either side, raising the younger turtle up to his feet. They support him by the shoulders.

“We need to get out of here.”

This whole situation has gone sour. Leo can read the look on Raph’s face. Not only have these scumbags hurt his brother, but they’ve caused you harm as well.

“Don’t worry Raph, we’ll find out who’s behind this.” For now the best approach is looking for an exit. Donnie clicks on his navigator, and before long they head through a back entrance. It’s almost closed off by all the destruction. With slow steps, they make their way out. Leo’s a bit anxious. If they trigger another explosion that would be bad. With the narrow exit of this warehouse, there’s minimum places for shelter. “It’s clear, move.” Donnie orders. So they do.

Raph is a few meters behind, looking every few seconds in hopes that you’ll open your eyes. But nothing changes. As they duck and search for an exit. Leo can feel his anger bubbling. He felt responsible for their predicament. He was supposed to be the leader, their protector.

“It aint your fault. “ While they're waiting to make an escape, Raph looks over. Raph is looking at him. He’s shocked at those words. He thought for sure if anything Raph would blame him. He’s never been shy to question his leadership skills in the past.

“Let’s get through this, then we’ll give those bastards a good beating.”

Leo doesn’t respond at first, but after a moment, he nods. He appreciates Raph’s words.

“You know we will.” he states. This is the first time Leo’s in agreement with his brother’s violent streak.

~~~~

Two hours, no response. Splinter couldn't hide his concern when he saw his boys coming in with two casualties. He'd never stop worrying. After careful instructions on where to place the both of you, all they can really do is wait.

They were all gathered at one point But bow their taking shifts between you and Mikey. Fighting to stay awake.

There's movement.

“Dudes I’m starving, where is the food?” Mikey’s groan makes Donnie perk up, and he’s wearing a lopsided grin. Donnie nearly falls out of his seat to race over. “He’s awake!” Donnie’s scream has gained all their attention, and they come running from different parts of the lair.

They settle around him, smiling and shoving his shoulder playfully. “Got any leftover pizza.” Leo just laughs. “Of course the first thing you think about is food. “

“Good to see ya okay dumbnut.” Raph says.

“Really scared us.” Leo adds.

He finally sits upright, rubbing his head. “Where’s (Y/N).” Raph’s head lowers.

In their rush to ensure the both of you were safe, they raced to the lair. There was no doubt Mikey would recover. He’d been through worse. You on the other hand, they had no clue. As able as you were, you were still human. Donnie assured them that you were simply concussed. After cleaning the wound, they’d set you down on a bed. Leo’s first thought was to get you to a hospital, but in your current attire, that would do more harm than good. So all that’s left is to wait.

“That bad huh.” Mikey mutters. It’s never a good sign when even Mikey sounds serious.

“She’s strong, she’ll pull through.” Leo encourages. It’s more for his own comfort. He’s ridden with guilt. He was careless, and it’s caused not just the safety of his brother’s but also his friend. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to live with himself if you didn’t wake up. His shoulders slump, and before he can dig himself any deeper, Raph smacks his head, hard. He stumbles forward, looking on in disbelief.

“I already told ya to quit it. Aint shit gonna happen if you sit there pouting. She’s strong, she’ll be okay.” Raph knows that given the circumstances, he has to step up. Leo is astonished at the sheer will he sees reflected. It makes him believe the words. So he straightens.

“Thanks Raph, I needed that.” Raph grins. “I’m always available if ya need a bit of motivation.” he says raising his fists. There’s the Raph he knows.

“Please tell me..I didn’t just mess up this brand new suit.” The statement is said from a distance, and Leo is slow to turn. Raph looks on, bewildered. “(Y/N)...” it’s a whisper.

“Hey guys.” you mumble weakly. Leo’s not sure he’s ever smiled so wide.

“I think introductions are in order.” A deeper voice fills in.

You screech, almost jumping five feet in the air.

“THERE'S A FREAKING TALKING RAT IN YOUR HOUSE!!!”

They pause for a moment, and all at once they start laughing. It’s loud and filled with the joy and relief of how well things turned out.

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otonymous · 5 years ago

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A Bolt From The Blue (MLQC Shaw - NSFW) - Part II: Formal Introductions

Description: A stranger finds himself in a strange place Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language & mature themes — reader discretion is advised. Potential trigger warnings: mild depictions of injuries, police, profanity Word Count: 1328 words (~7 mins of tension and the beginnings of love) Author’s Notes: First of all, I just wanted to give everyone who read, liked, reblogged, and/or commented on Chapter 1 of this fic a massive THANK YOU! It has been an absolute joy to read through your reactions to the story so far, and I hope you will continue to join me on this wild (and eventually, sexy) ride! 😂 That being said, here’s Chapter 2! Hope you all enjoy the read 💖

Tagging: the lovely @op-peccatori

Jump to Chapter(s): One | Three | Four

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

“Ahh—!”

A large hand clamps over your mouth to muffle the scream of shock when you wake to a pair of amber eyes staring intently into yours. Then you remember that you had given up your bed to the man you now knew went by the name of Shaw.

At least that was what was on the ID card you found in his wallet.

“Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty? Care to tell me where I am?”

Once assured you had sufficiently calmed, Shaw lowers his hand, turning his attention to your tiny apartment. You straighten up from where you had fallen asleep, kneeling on the floor beside the bed with your head slumped on the pillow just next to his face. Cheeks burning, you bite your lip to distract from the way your skin still tingled in the places he had touched.

“You’re at my place. But don’t worry, I live alone.”

“I figured that much,” he says, trying to prop himself up on his elbows before his face contorts in pain. You quickly rearrange the cushions and pillows behind him for support. Shaw reaches towards his bare abdomen, hand trembling slightly as his fingers trace over the bandaged stitches holding it together. “How did you…?”

“My next door neighbour did it. He was a doctor back in his home country and owed me a favour. I figured it would be a bad idea to take you to a hospital given…given everything that’s going on. You can trust him, he’ll be discreet.”

Shaw heaves a sigh; even that seems to hurt him. “How long have I been out?”

“Almost two days.”

“Shit.” His brows pinch together. “Do you have my phone?”

Nodding, you make your way to the kitchen counter where it sat along with the things that fell from his pockets when you undressed him as per your neighbour’s instructions: his wallet, a pack of cinnamon gum, a key and a guitar pick.

The phone lights up at your touch when you hand it over. You pretend like you don’t notice the photo of the two young boys on the lock screen — one taller than the other, both wearing matching smiles and big, amber eyes.

You watch from the side, waiting with bated breath as Shaw scrolls through the messages with an impatient hand, the expression on his face growing darker with each swipe until he’s throwing off the sheets, pale lips trembling in pain as he tries to maneuver off the bed. “I have to go.”

“But, wait…you’re not fully healed yet! The doctor said it would likely be another day or two before you should start moving about—”

“I ain’t got that time.” Feet finally on the ground, Shaw looks down, seeming to realize for the first time that he’s completely naked save for his boxers. “Could you, um…pass my clothes?”

His cheeks grow pink. You clear your throat.

Knock, knock.

Freezing in the midst of gathering his belongings, both your gazes shoot to the door when a muffled voice on the other side calls, “Loveland City Police! Anyone home?”

Tossing Shaw the bundle in your arms, you push him back into bed, holding a finger to your lips for silence before you throw the covers over him. Running sweaty palms over disheveled hair, you breathe deep, opening the door just enough for the chain to pull taut.

“Good morning, Miss. I’m Detective Lai and this is Officer Wong from the Loveland City Police Department. We’re currently conducting an investigation in the area. Have you seen either of these men around here lately?”

Putting away his badge, Officer Wong holds up several large photographs, one a grainy picture from what appeared to be security footage, and a couple of mugshots. You keep your expression flat as you pretend to study the one of Shaw’s face.

“Doesn’t ring a bell, I’m sorry.”

Shaking your head for emphasis, you try to ignore the heat prickling beneath your collar when Detective Lai leans against the doorframe, gaze sharp as he sweeps the space behind you before finally relenting. “Sorry to have disturbed you, Miss. Please don’t hesitate to inform us if you notice anything out of the ordinary.”

Quickly shutting the door, you slide to the tiled floor of the entryway, shaking so hard your teeth chatter. Suddenly, a hand thrusts into your field of vision, making you jump: Shaw is standing before you, one arm outstretched to help you up as the other hovers over his bandaged abdomen.

“You should be resting.” The words leave your lips in a whisper.

He doesn’t budge. “Don’t worry about me, I’m stronger than I look.”

And when you finally place your hand in his, the smile that brightens that handsome face brings one to your own.

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

“You win. Looks like I’m not going anywhere anytime soon with the cops crawling all over the place.”

Shaw’s voice drifts to the kitchen from where he lay on your bed. Avoiding a cloud of steam when you lift the lid from a pot on the stove, the comforting smell of ginger and scallions wafts to tickle your nose as you portion out a single serving of congee, bearing it over to him on a tray.

“Here. It’s not much, but it’s easy on the stomach. Careful, it’s hot—!”

The congee splatters onto your sheets when Shaw drops the ceramic spoon, hissing as he sticks out a burnt tongue like an accident-prone child. Biting back a chuckle at the discord between the man before you now and the one who had valiantly saved you during the robbery, you quickly reach for the glass of water on your bedside table, watching him gulp it down for dear life.

“I know it’s no Coke and Pepsi, but I hope it’ll do anyways.”

He laughs, and the sound tightens around your heart before he almost chokes on his water, coughing violently into the crook of his elbow and breathing deep to ride out the wave of pain radiating from his torso.

“Wow. So she can tell jokes too in addition to saving lives. Impressive, just like the lies you told the cops. I have to say though, I’m surprised you noticed my drink of choice. All those nights I came in, you barely even looked at me. I was starting to wonder whether or not I was invisible.”

A smirk curls upon his lips; you wondered how they would taste. Then, after a beat of silence, he says, “Thank you. For everything. I owe you my life.”

His amber eyes hold yours, completely devoid of sarcasm. Counting to three before the intensity forces your gaze down to the fraying edges of your house slippers, the fierce beating of your heart makes you feel faint.

“I’m just repaying a favour. I haven’t thanked you yet for saving me that day you took out the robber with your skateboard.”

“Was nothin’. Just happened to be in the right place at the right time.” He shrugs, running a hand through his hair before extending it to you for the second time that day. “Name’s Shaw, by the way.”

You stop breathing when your hands touch, hope your cheeks won’t betray you with their traitorous red when those long fingers tightened to hear you say yours in return.

“I know. I’ve seen it on the tag on your uniform many times now.” He repeats your name, soft and with intent, as if the tip of his tongue held something of infinite importance. “It’s nice…suits you. I like it.”

Raising a spoonful of congee, Shaw puckers his lips, blowing gently to cool it off first this time around.

“I like your congee too.”

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Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all enjoyed it and please stay tuned for part 3 because there is only one bed! 😱😆

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haikyuu-appreciation-club · 5 years ago

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Pancakes for Dinner

{Hey Pretty Lady}

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chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

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series masterlist

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It was difficult for Bokuto to focus on anything else that day, other than the anticipation bubbling up inside of him. He was dying to know who you were and what you were like, causing tomorrow morning feel like years away.

Akaashi got the tail end of Bokuto’s speculation, listening to him babble about their so called “mystery girl” as they walked home,

“Maybe she smells like flowers? Or maybe she-”

Akaashi promptly cut him off, knowing he’d ramble on forever if he didn’t stop his train of thought now,

“Bokuto-san, you’ll know all about her tomorrow morning. You just have to be patient.”

Bokuto let out a whine as he threw his head back in distaste,

“But Akaashi, you know I dont have that kind of patience!”

“I’m well aware of that, but just try your best. All you have to do is finish up your assignments for today and go to sleep. Then you’ll be able to meet her.”

As if a switch had been flipped, Bokuto turned to Akaashi with a determined look on his face and gave a few vigorous nods. A small smile tugged at akaashi lips as he shook his head at his friend’s antics.

The two parted ways not long after, bidding a due before they separated, allowing Bokuto to sprint to his front door while Akaashi continued his walk to the train station.

As the night dragged on, Bokuto fumbled through his school work. Blank answers were scattered all across his page as he tried to jump to the ones he actually understood and avoid the ones that made his stomach twist up in knots. At this rate Bokuto was not only interested in getting to know the type of person you were but also if you really had the ability to help him improve in his academics.

After some time, everything he had learned grew foggy in his mind once more, causing him to disregarded the leftover work in frustration.

As he flopped on his bed, pout dancing on his lips in dissatisfaction, an idea flooded his mind. Eagerly snatching his phone off his nightstand, his fingers worked quickly and eventually lead him to type your name into the search bar of instagram.

He found your account quite fast, a specific aspect picked it apart from the rest as he hovered his finger over the button. Unfortunately for him however, he discovered that you liked to keep your social life more private then others, not allowing just anyone to get a glimpse of your world. He groaned as he threw his phone across his bed, pouting at the fact that he wouldn’t get the opportunity to explore what you were like before the morning arrived.

After a night of failed attempts, Bokuto snugged into the covers, cuddling his pillow as his eyes grew heavier. He sent a quick goodnight text to the team group chat, as he did every night, before he allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

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By the time morning rolled around, Bokuto wasted no time placing himself in front of the door to the principal’s office, practically jumping up and down from excitement alone. Most people would find his eagerness to be annoying and unnecessary, but he figured someone who was taking time out of their day to help him was someone worth being excited about.

His knuckles ricocheted off the door as his loud knocks filled the room on the opposing wall. After a few moments, the door flew open, giving a clear view of the tall man who had arranged this meeting,

“Ah, Mr. Bokuto. I’m glad you could join us. Please come in!”

As soon as Bokuto stepped into the dusty room, his focus was immediately drawn to you. You sat in an old battered chair, the same one he had sat in the day prior, as you flipped through a packet of some sort.

Once you heard the door closed, your eyes snapped towards the direction of the noise, meeting Bokuto’s in the process. A sweet smile spread across your face before you set the packet on the desk in front of you and stood up. Bokuto immediately bounced towards you and pulled you into a friendly hug, letting him introduce himself whilst you were still in his hold,

“Hey hey hey! I’m Bokuto! You must be y/n, i’ve heard a lot about you!”

You immediately went stiff, not expecting such an intimate greeting the first time you met the boy. The most you expected was a handshake or something of the sort, but you found yourself quickly warming up to the gesture nonetheless, eventually wrapping your arms around him as you returned his introduction,

“Hi Bokuto, It’s nice to meet you.”

Bokuto pulled away from the hug, a bright grin present on his face and he ruffled your hair a bit,

“Nice to meet you too!”

The principal watched this whole ordeal unfold from his desk. He was confused to say the least but neither of you seemed to mind the odd acknowledgment, so he didn’t pay it much mind.

Clearing his throat, the attention was brought back to him as he began to speak,

“i have explained the current situation to the both of you and now it’s up to you to come up with a plan that best suits the two of you. I have given y/n a packet of the topics you’ll be focusing on currently, so she’ll be able to walk you through anything you’re having difficulty with.” he looked back and forth from the two of you before letting out a soft sigh, “Basically, as long as Bokuto’s grades have improved by December, i don’t care what the two of you do.”

The two of you nodded in understanding, Bokuto doing so a little more violently but still in good spirits.

The principal smiled at the both of you, glad that he didn’t have to take up too much time out of his day spent on this situation, before letting the two of you off the hook.

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Bokuto was practically dying of boredom by the time his last class of the day had ended. Everyday seemed to be on repeat lately and he was growing very tired of it.

As he turned to finally leave the confinement of the classroom, the sight of a figure caused him to jump. He was so engrossed in quickly packing his bag, eager to get to practice and spike to his heart’s content, that he failed to noticed the girl that took a seat on top of the desk next to his,

“Whoops, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Bokuto relaxed once he had noticed the scary figure was in fact you. He crossed his arms and shot a frown in your direction due to your accusation,

“You didn’t scare me! I never get scared y/n, ever! What are you doing here anyways?”

You let out a hum in consideration before nodding your head and bringing your book bag to sit on your lap,

“Right, never gets scared, noted.” you smiled before pulling out a piece of paper, “We have to set up a day to study so I was thinking we could get together this weekend. I came to give you my number so we can stay in touch.”

His features relaxed and were quickly replaced by a smile as he ripped the paper from your hands. He examined the piece of paper before returning his gaze to you once more,

“Oh, right! Thank you, y/n. I have to get to practice but I'll see you this weekend!”

You watched as his broad figure dashed out the door and towards the direction of the gym.

You let out a chuckle at his retreating form. Bokuto Kotaro was definitely different than anyone you'd ever met before, but was that really such a bad thing? Who knew?

A million other questions danced in your head since the meeting with the boy, but you knew only time could tell. You smiled at the thought before throwing your bag back over your shoulder.

There was one thing you already knew for sure;

These next few months would definitely be a roller coaster.

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taglist:

@goopy465 @al3x1ss @whosaskinguniverse @kenmas-grease @tsum-tsxmus @ray-ofmoonlight @simpparty @marvel-ing-at-it-all @ineedsomefoodpls @owlnymph @alittlebitofrain

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okayohay · 4 years ago

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BURNT VACANT RED

I’m sorry for the hold up, but it’s been a while since I’ve shared any type of fanfiction content that I’m struggling with getting back into it, mainly because I know how much I expect from myself with my writing and I don’t want to let this community down specifically. I’d like to explain this story for a second if I can. It is going to be broken down into around ten parts. The chapters will be long and the first one is world building, so please bear with me if you can. I kind of need to set the scene and dig into some history to set the rest of the story up and not have to deal with explanations later. I hope to have the second part up quickly for you all, and I promise you Van becomes more present in chapter two. I hope you enjoy this for what it is. Thanks for reading this crappy introduction. Word count is 7273, and you can also find this on my Wattpad along with my other fanfictions. Peace and love.

ONE

This story doesn’t start happy.

You can’t believe you said “no”.

You toss your handbag toward the couch and underestimate how far away it is, so it clatters to the floor instead where you leave it. As if the worst moment of your life needed theatrics, the rain streams down your ninth-floor condo windows violently and bits of lightning flash off Lake Michigan under the watermark of an evening sky. The Gold Coast of Chicago stretches beyond your window, dumping itself along the shoreline until you lose sight of everything other than lights of nearby suburbs.

You cover your face with your hands and that’s when you realize you’re shaking. You sink slowly to the floor and take a few deep breaths as the evening’s memories bite into your skin. You wince and the embarrassment of the situation sets in. You can’t get over the way Nick’s face looked, and the people around the two of you standing with mouth’s agape as they watch you back away from your boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

The word makes you want to be sick.

He’s not your boyfriend anymore.

At least, you doubt he is. Not after this.

Three hours ago, he wanted to be your fiancé.

But you…said…no.

In hindsight, you knew this was coming, but not like this. Not this quick.

Nick wanted to take you out for dinner and the two of you hadn’t been making very much time for each other lately. You’d finished off your internship in the winter and the company offered you a full-time position as the marketing coordinator. They were a small yet prominent, independent music company that hosted everything from small concerts to large scale festivals. When you took the job, you took away a huge chunk of your free time and it rubbed Nick the wrong way at first. But he eventually accepted a promotion of his own and spent three days a week traveling and you were lucky to get a phone call some nights. It sent the sane and patient part of your relationship into a quick demise. You nit-picked each other for things that wouldn’t have mattered before, and the glittery shine of what once was started to dull.

You’d been bickering more frequently than you should have been, especially for not seeing each other often. But you always came around because Nick knew everything about you. Nick was the boy you were never supposed to date, the rebound after the love of your life walked away from you. Nick had taken on the role of sewing you back up and keeping you together, and you stayed with him ever since. It seemed like the right thing to do. You loved him, but not in the same red way you loved the boy before him, but you did love him. That candle was lit, but the flame never seemed to burn quite right.

You’d been together for three years. It was time to get serious about the future and you knew that. The two of you were woven deeply into the facets of each other’s lives and it was only time before he popped the question. You just didn’t think it’d be this soon. You figured you’d at least be living together first. You figured you’d be somewhere exotic and you’d have time to pose for a photo afterwards. But your expectations prove how little you really know about life and the deep meanings of it.

You didn’t expect that you’d decline the offer when it was proposed to you either. But you did.

You always pictured the moment in your mind and it went exactly the opposite of what you expected. Playing out like a terrible movie you didn’t have the guts to walk out of early, so you suffer through it.

He took you to one of the upscale restaurants downtown, the kind where the waiter pulls out your chair for you and adjusts your cloth napkin every time you move it. You never liked the elegant parts of life that others longed for. You craved simple things, but Nick was the opposite. Nick grew up with money and a family who dined in eloquence. Nick pined for these types of places and things. Even though his music taste matched your alternative ones, he still needed the finer things in life. He didn’t pick this place for you, he picked it for himself, for his status. He seemed antsy so you did most of the talking which wasn’t out of the ordinary. You started telling him about your job and how there was potential for an opening in the Charleston office and the owner had personally recommended you to HR there. The excitement in your voice was evident and you rambled on about the endeavor. You’d been keeping it to yourself and tonight seemed like the appropriate night to share it. You loved the southern states, particularly South Carolina, and Nick knew this about you. But his reaction was less than positive.

“You can’t be serious. You would really move to South Carolina for work?”

You nod once, reaching for the Sauvignon Blanc with greedy, nervous fingers.

“You’d move, away from your family, from Tessa…from me?”

The mention of your family strikes a nerve and your stomach twists into a knot at the thought of not getting to see your teenage brother as often as you do now, and even that wasn’t often enough. The thought of leaving Tessa, your best friend, and the condo you share with her rips you in a million pieces. Every favorite memory of your short adult life was wrapped up in that place and with her.

“I haven’t given any of it much of a thought yet.”

Nick smirks. “Of course not. You just jumped…like you always do. Like you did when they offered you the position here.”

“Nick…it’s been my dream to be working in this field. You’ve known this since you met me. I was lucky to have been offered the position straight out of an internship.”

He shakes his head. “And you’re in love with what you do.”

“Yes.” You state flatly. This was nothing new. Everyone knew how much music meant to you. You could talk to a stranger from anything regarding 1970’s rock clear through modern day, indie-alternative. You gushed about music to anyone who wanted to listen regardless if it was a stranger or a friend. But Nick didn’t like the fact that you felt so strongly about your career. In the world he came from, girlfriend’s and wives held their career second to their relationships.

“More in love than it with me?” He leaned forward as he asked the question, splaying his hands against the table frantically.

You don’t say anything and you let the thought simmer in the back of your mind, dissecting his sentence and reading between the lines of his words. “Are you asking me to choose?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not asking you anything…yet. I’m trying to figure out what you want, because lately…I’m not sure.”

You lean forward to mimic his reaction, and do your best to maintain what little ground you currently have. It’s a small island, but it’s yours and you’re not the type to back down into the corner. “I guess that question can go both ways. I’m not the only one who buries myself in work. When was the last time you were home five days in a row? Between the conventions and the meetings, you’re in town a total of eight days a month. I know I’ve been wrapped up in work, but it’s because I landed the job I worked so hard for, a job that was my dream. You can’t blame me for that. Especially when you’re guilty of the same thing.”

“To be very clear, what I do at work is not my dream.” Nick confesses.

“Well then you should figure out what you want and do that.” You bite back with a knee-jerk response.

“I want to be with you. And you want to move?”

You turn your face to the side on a shrug and release a deep breath. “Yes. I want to move. I told Jacob I was interested in it. That’s why he made the call.”

Nick drums his fingers against the tabletop nervously. “I can’t go with you.”

You sip the wine and set it down softly on a shrug. “I didn’t ask you to.”

Nick narrows his eyes at you. “What, so we’re supposed to just make long distance work?”

You hadn’t thought about any of this, you were just excited to have a potential opportunity in a place you always wanted to be. “I guess.”

The two of you don’t speak much after that and Nick spends the time scrolling through his phone and glancing around every now and again nervously. You pick at your food, losing more of your appetite the longer you sit there. You don’t accept the to-go box when the waiter offers it and Nick pays the bill quickly and escorts you out of the building.

The walk to the condo you share with you best friend is tense and uncomfortable. Nick pauses at an intersection before deciding he wants to take the long way through the park adjacent to your building. You entertain his desire to take the long way to your door, figuring he needs to blow off steam and there’s only so many places you can find solace in a city. You’re two steps behind him until he gets to a small corner with concrete retaining walls that people use as benches. He sits and rubs the back of his neck. You watch him battle with words he doesn’t know how to say and you figure the least you can do is get on his level. You sit next to him and reach for his face instinctively. He snatches your fingers and eyeballs them before interlacing them with his own.

“I didn’t expect to be in a fight right now. It’s not how I wanted this to go.”

“It’s not a fight- “you say softly but he interrupts you and shakes his head.

“It feels like a war.” He whispers and your frown.

“Nick…I need to do this. I need to go. I haven’t wanted anything more than this in my life. It’s important to me.”

He laughs and rolls his shoulders, removing his hand from yours and you look over your shoulder, silently praying for a crowd of people to walk over and interrupt the hostility the two of you are facing. But only a few strangers dare to walk over to this section of the park, and they seem less than interested in whatever dilemma you two are hanging onto and more interested in their own stories. Nick reaches into his pocket and you turn back to him on a sigh, but your eyes land on the small box in the palm of his hand before fluttering to his face. He bites his lip and shakes his head.

“I planned to have a fantastic evening with you. I was going to ask you to move in with me, and after you said yes, I was going to order a bottle of champagne and then I was going to walk you home just like this, and stop here at this place and ask you why the good news should stop here. And then I was going to get down on my knee and tell you how much I loved you.”

Nick proceeds to do just that, and he takes your hand with him in the process. Everything below your neck goes numb and you can’t feel your fingers in his hand.

“And then I was going to tell you that I needed to be with you forever, and that in order to do that I needed you to be my wife.” He pauses and opens the box, revealing a large, square diamond matching the same one his brother gave his wife. It wasn’t your style at all, and maybe at one point in your life it would have meant the world to you, but in this moment, it feels wrong.

“I’m still going to ask that of you, because even in our worst moments, our most uncomfortable moments, you’re still worth it and I want to be with you forever. Please marry me. Because there isn’t a life for me without you, good or bad moments, I’ll take them.”

You freeze and hear a whisper from across the patio. A couple has spotted the proposal in action and is waiting for your reaction and they look prepared to applaud. You look back at Nick, at the ring, and then you exhale and pull your hand out of his slowly.

“Nick…”

He furrows his eyebrows at you as you lean away from him and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Can we talk about this?”

Nick doesn’t move out of his position and glances around nervously, raking his free hand through his wavy blond hair. “Is that your answer?”

You shake your head. “Nick…I can’t, we can’t.”

He snaps the box shut and the couple across from you turns away quickly after their jaw’s both drop habitually. You pretend not to notice and Nick stands up slowly.

“Oh God.” He whispers and presses his fingers into the side of his head.

“I’m sorry…” you confess, but it breaks out and you choke on a cry.

Nick shakes his fingers at you and closes his eyes harshly as if he’s wishing himself out of the situation. When he opens them, he looks nervous, and you don’t remember seeing this look on him before. It stones you and you sit up straighter before rising to your feet and walking toward him. You rest your hand on his arm and he shrugs you off of him quickly.

“I told my parents I was asking you. I figured you’d say yes…” His words trail off as he paces the area for something to do. “They figured you’d say it, too. And now I have to tell them…”

“Can we talk about this? Please?”

“It’s not really a question you need to talk about. It’s either yes or no.” His voice becomes a fortress and you realize you’re not getting in.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry but I’m not ready for this.” You admit breathlessly.

“Not ready for this, or not ready for me?”

You can hear the crestfallen tone his voice has taken on and deep down, you know that he knew this was coming, too. Maybe he thought he could heed it off, and curb whatever light from you flame back into his court. But it was over. It’d been over for a long time, and maybe this was the only way for things to burn out.

“It’s not you.” You admit loosely.

“Oh, it’s not me, it’s you, right? We’re going to have to that moment now?”

You shake your head. “No. I mean for me…it’s not you. You’re not the one for me and I’m not the one for you, Nick. We both know this.”

Nick shakes his head and looks like he’s going to cry. “Are you kidding me? When was I supposed to know this? Because for three years we’ve done everything together. Why would I think anything else?”

“I’m sorry.” You say again, but Nick stopped listening. He stopped listening when he stormed away from you with his hands in the air, and left you in the park with your thoughts without saying goodbye.

And now, now you were alone in your apartment with no memory of how you made it back, dissecting the memories of a few hours before, and trying to figure out if the night had gone like he wanted, would you have said yes to him? You chew on the thought before realizing that you would have said no either way. You weren’t sure what was supposed to happen in your life, but you knew one thing; you were not supposed to marry Nick.

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You spend the next several weeks cramming your life into boxes and selling what you don’t want or need. You pack everything up and label what’s in each box with a bold sharpie. You ordered furniture for your new place in Charleston, leaving Tessa with pretty much everything. She helps you pack after work each night and the goodbye with her is harder than anything you could have imagined. Your goodbye to your family was difficult, but you were used to being away from them for weeks at a time by now, it’s saying goodbye to the person you’ve shared fifteen years doing everything with that forces you to breakdown. You spend the first few hours of the drive crying, and wondering if you’re doing the right thing. But by the time you make it into the Carolinas, the decision you made seems like the best one. You roll down your windows and let the air in, turning your music up in the process because some songs need air. You instantly feel relief when the humidity of the south laps at your skin and sticks to you.

Your new place is sandwiched along the Battery and the views of the water make you feel at home even though the Atlantic is much more appealing to you than Lake Michigan. It’s a small, two story home and the exterior is painted in pastel blue. The flowers from the previous tenant spill out of the boxes along the windowsill and you water them with a leftover bottle of water that grew warm from being inside of your car. It takes you seven trips to unload your car and you leave the boxes in the living room while you unpack your suitcase with all your clothes first. Your furniture is set to arrive tomorrow, so you plan to sleep on a pile of pillows and blankets that you throw on the floor. By the time you’re ready to move to the living room, the sun is almost down and the golden light spewing across the water stains your walls in hues of brass. You order food from a nearby sushi restaurant that delivers and quietly go about pulling things out of boxes and deciding where to put them.

You get to a box that Tessa packed for you and there’s a letter on the top. You pull it out and skim it, trying not to cry for the tenth time of the day. She tells you she is proud of you and how much she loves you, and the box is filled with some of your best memories with her, including photos and mementos from the last decade. You pull out a photo album you didn’t know existed along with a stack of photos underneath it, a handful of ticket stubs from the days before everything became digital, and lanyards from festivals you forgot you attended.

You fold your legs and sit Indian-style on the floor while you flip through the photographs. There are standard photos of you and Tessa at music festivals, blended within crowds of people, laughing wildly while bands that no longer exist play behind you on stage. You’d almost forgotten this part of your life. You were nineteen back then and a version of yourself you didn’t remember. Now, you were on the wrong end of twenty-six and you hadn’t been to a concert in this context in years. You smile at the photos of Tessa passed out along the festival grounds, surrounded by friends you hadn’t seen in too long. You’re interrupted by your food arriving and you accept it graciously as your stomach growls, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten all day. You pile a few bites into your mouth and sit back down, returning to your stack of photos. You flip through party photos, pictures from college that you’re shocked Tessa went to the trouble of printing, and laugh at the pictures of the two of you at high-school graduation.

You nearly drop the stack at what comes next, and you stop chewing your food for a moment as you narrow your eyes on the picture on top of the pile. You set the stack down as you bring the photo in your hands closer to your face, holding it with shaking fingers. It’s a photograph of you in your former life, with people who have since become strangers. But it’s you and the person whose face is pressed against yours that makes you physically ache. It’s a picture of you and your ex-boyfriend, the one who you loved violently and effortlessly at the same time. A picture that you didn’t realize existed because you’d never even seen it until now. You barely recognize yourself. Your hair was long and spilled around your shoulders in waves. You look happy and young, a cigarette dangling from your fingers as your ex-boyfriend clings to you for life. Your throat bobs with a nervousness that feels so foreign to you, you can’t even give it a name. You eventually start to chew on your food again before you swallow it, feeling your appetite wane.

You glance to the stack and see more photos from the same night. You flit through them anxiously, splaying them across the floor of your living room and bringing them close to your face to analyze them on a deeper level. These were moments of your life you hadn’t probed in years, moments of your life you’d done your best to forget. But here they were, printed in permanent reminders for you to tap into. Your ex is in all of them, wrapped around you, smoking a cigarette or strumming on a guitar while you laid on the couch next to him. Your chest tightens at the memory of that particular night, remembering how he confessed to you that he actually did love you, and then he played a song he wrote for you. You let yourself think about him for a moment, something you hadn’t done in years, and you’re shocked to find his ghost still eager to be summoned in the back of your mind.

Van. His name was Van and he had been the greatest love of your life.

You wince at the sound of his name in your mind. The last time you spoke of him was to Nick, early on in your relationship when you were explaining why you hadn’t dated in so long. You told him the truth; you loved Van deeply and it was the hardest blow to your heart you’d received. Nick listened with genuine interest, and at that point, you were in the very early stages of your relationship with him. Nick never experienced a serious relationship before the one he shared with you, but he shared stories of girls he’d dated and moments of his own life where he felt a connection to someone, but none of it held a candle to the relationship you had with Van.

His name sends another ripple through your chest and you feel like you could be sick. Every emotion you’d worked so hard at ignoring for the last three years came back like a hurricane and settled into your skin quickly. How could you have forgotten about this part of your life so easily? You blame Nick. He’d been a good hinderance to the feelings you had for Van. He picked up the pieces that were left of you and arranged them into some sort of version of yourself that made it so you could at least carry on. You’d let him become a distraction to your feelings, and parts of him reminded you of Van. His love for music being one of them. You’d become so wrapped up in Nick, that you could easily forget about Van, until now at least, when your distraction was no longer a part of your life. Nick was a replacement, or maybe a bandage and Van was the wound that didn’t heal properly regardless of how much pressure you applied to it.

The stack of photos begs you to go on, and you find more evidence of the life you’d left in the past. Van was the lead singer of a band from the UK, and you met him when you were working the office of a small venue in Chicago six years ago. He’d found you before his set when he locked himself out of his band’s dressing room. He’d spent the last fifteen minutes looking for someone to help him and you were the only person he had any luck tracking down. He introduced himself and told you a short version of a long-winded story regarding how this happened. Even though you should have fact checked him or went to find a manager, you felt sorry for him so, you obliged and unlocked the door for him. Maybe you were intrigued by his accent and the strange name of his band. Or maybe it was the iciness of his blue eyes and the way his hair spilled into them that made it easy for you to oblige. After your help, he made sure to invite you to the show and made you promise you’d catch part of it. He told you that you were witnessing history in the making and that Catfish and the Bottlemen were going to be the biggest band in the world. You laughed at his genuine confidence and even though you feigned interest with him, you watched from the balcony where no one was seated. They were good, and his energy on stage made it hard for you to look away from him. You were fairly certain he’d noticed you up there, but you blushed and turned away anytime you caught him glancing your way.

Afterwards, you locked the front doors and pulled your bag from the ticket booth, flicking off lights as you went. You shuffled out the side door, surprised to find Van, and two other people standing there sharing cigarettes and beers. He looked less nervous, more playful even, and gave you a hug when he recognized you. He offered you a beer and normally, you would have said no. You had plans the following day and you knew better than to mingle with acts when they came through. Your boss would have you by the throat if he knew that you were considering spending time with them. But something about Van was persistent, and you felt a pull in your gut to share a drink with him. He introduced you to some of his bandmates and his road crew, and you forgot their names quickly, wishing you’d paid more attention when he spoke. But Van made you nervous and you fumbled over your words and stuttered your way through group conversations.

You spent a few hours chewing on with him about their tour, their music, and similar bands you both liked. Van loved music. There was no denying that. When he spoke about writing or performing, he spoke quickly and moved his hands with animated motions. Music was his life, and he made sure everyone knew it. You couldn’t keep up with his energy. It was fierce and fiery, yet humble and authentic all in one. You continued drinking with him even after everyone else called it a night, and walked around the outside of the venue, sharing cigarettes at the picnic table out back and trying to keep up with the dialect of his thick accent that seemed to become harder to understand the more he drank. He did his best to dumb down the words and phrases you didn’t know, and you tried hard not to Americanize him. Eventually, the two of you wound back in his hotel room, ripping the clothes off of each other. Up until that point, you’d never done anything remotely similar to that and you wondered what Tessa would think. This was very out of character for you and you knew it. You stayed there until morning when you attempted to duck out before he woke, but little did you know, he was wide awake, writing in a black notebook, smiling lazily at you. You exchanged numbers habitually upon your goodbyes but never expected to hear from him.

He texted you five minutes after you left.

You and Van continued the messages for weeks, sharing photos and videos, and eventually making drunk calls to each other while his band finished the leg of their tour. You told your friends about him, and you talked about him with Tessa regularly. When he returned to the UK, he asked you to wait for him to come back and promised that he would meet up with you when he did. Like the believer in young love you were, you waited anxiously for Van to return, but it took a while. And during the months he was away, the phone calls and messages became less and less until they stopped entirely. He stopped initiating messages and eventually stopped returning your own, and that’s when you decided you hated him…sort of. You loved to hate him, crying on Tessa’s shoulder after a night out on the town and confessing your attraction to him in the moments where you were most under the influence, and promising her you’d never speak to him again after this. But eventually he came back, and he made it a point to hunt you down, and you fell right back under whatever spell Van McCann put you under the first time. You spent an entire summer following his band around on tour, and making long weekend trips with Tessa to cities he was playing in. You picked up right where you left off, and drowned the fear of him leaving again with drinks after his shows and shitty weed from one of his roadies. Van was different this time around, older and less animated when he spoke, and more concerned with what was happening around him. He still seemed happy, and he still loved music, but the stress of playing shows every night, mixed with the release of a sophomore album that sky-rocketed his band into a frenzy of fame, stoned him a little. He was reposed in a way you hadn’t seen him be before and it made you wonder what was going on with him beneath the surface. But you never did get the chance to ask, because Van couldn’t talk about his feelings as easily as he could spin them into songs, and layer them in innuendos. You’d pry when he’d have his moments of silence and pure aggression, but you never managed to get anywhere with him.

Your relationship was unhealthy, both of you using the other to bury your fears and worries into, and never really communicating properly about anything. After his tour wrapped up, he disappeared again, leaving you breathless and in pieces and losing all communication with you again, except this time it was worse because prior to leaving, he’d told you he loved you. You didn’t understand any of it and his absence hurtled you into an angry phase of life where you lost weight and picked yourself apart, but you’d get better every time he called or when he would eventually show up. You’d stalk him online, reading comments he’d leave to fans or girls from back home and torturing yourself to the point of madness. This went on for years. He’d come back to the US, and you’d fall right back into place with him. Then he would go away, and each time he left, a part of you left, too.

Eventually it all stopped though, some three plus years after it all began, but you weren’t ready to relive the ending yet. The ending was too painful to discuss, too awful to consider. You toss the pictures into the box haphazardly, and they coat the bottom with memories you wish Tessa never sent you with. Why would she do that? Why would she knowingly open a wound when you were already vulnerable about moving away and ending things with Nick? And why of all people, would she choose to spotlight, Van? She knew more than anyone how awful your official breakup with Van had been. She suffered through your darkest moments with you and here she was sending you off and into the world with boxes of memories that happened to be some of the sharpest objects you could touch. You consider calling her or at the very least sending her a message about it, but the thought of typing out Van’s name in a sentence fills you with dread.

You choose to open a bottle of celebratory wine your parents sent with you instead. You wonder if you have an emergency pack of Marlboros to chain-smoke and keep your nerves at ease, but you know better than that by now. The last thing you need is to pick up an old habit because you can’t manage your new life or the memories or your former one. You push the thought of smoking to the side and fumble with the cork of the wine bottle until a pop fills your kitchen and the scent of Cab Sav fills the air. You haven’t unpacked any dishes yet, so you insist on drinking from the bottle and it suits you fine.

You sip the wine as you try to talk yourself out of reliving your old memories, but the more you try not to think about your ex-boyfriend, well, both of them really, the more you realize that if it hadn’t been for Van’s dismissal from your life, you never would have met Nick or had to break his heart in the middle of the proposal. This makes you dislike Van more than you did fifteen minutes ago and you toss back the wine and guzzle it quickly. The burning sensation in your throat causes you to squint, but you keep going, wanting to forget everything until tomorrow. You’d rather deal with a headache than a head full of ghosts.

----

You wake up hungover, an empty bottle of wine acting as evidence in your peripheral vision. You groan at the scent of it as you toss it into a trash bag before stepping to the small patio outback. The wine did little to make you forget, and instead, you cried alone in your apartment for most of the night while streaming songs from Van’s band that you’d purposely ignored for the past three years. You knew they’d released a new album in 2019 and you never once gave it a chance. Not that you expected to find anything about your almost relationship there, but you didn’t want to know about anyone else’s love affair with him either. You didn’t want to know that he was happy and writing about someone else. You didn’t need that type of negativity in your life.

But you only found memories you shared with him, woven intricately into the verses of his songs, tidbits of your conversations bleeding into the spaces between the chorus and bridge. You bite back tears as you sift through the feelings you unpacked last night and wrap your head around some of his lyrics. Between mourning the loss of whatever was left from your and Nick’s devastating coda, to digging up the bones of Van McCann and his whole damn band, you had an intense breakdown.

You skim through your messages with Tessa, rereading the moments where you called her out for the photos and tell her you can’t stop crying. She tells you to call her when you’re sober, and you only repeat yourself over and over until she stops responding. You hover over her name and take a few deep breaths before calling her.

“Are you amongst the living?” Tessa’s tone is drenched in sarcasm and something else you can’t quite make out.

“I’ll be alright.” You’re a terrible liar and she knows it, but she doesn’t call you out on your bluff.

“What happened last night?” Her tone becomes concerned, and regret fills your mouth.

“I opened up your letter and saw all the pictures.”

“Well, I figured that much, but how did you get so drunk?”

You shrug as if she was with you in your living room. “I drank that bottle of wine from my parents.”

“You need a healthy hobby.”

You shake your head lightly, rubbing your temple with your free hand and sighing. “What prompted to you to send me off with those photos?”

“I thought you should have them. I’ve had them for years and they obviously weren’t doing me any favors. I figured I’d give them to you since they were of you mainly.”

“I didn’t even know you had them…”

“Why do you sound so sad?”

You cough. “Uhm, do I have to spell it out for you? You sent me with pictures of my ex-boyfriend who I haven’t thought of for years.”

“What’s the big deal? It’s not like you just broke up. If you don’t want them, toss them out.”

“It’s not a big deal…it just…it caught me off guard I guess.”

“Toss them out then, I don’t care.”

“Yeah, I could.” You admit.

You hear Tessa shuffling on the other end of the phone, and you imagine she’s in the kitchen, working on getting food out for breakfast. You miss your lazy weekend mornings with her already and you try not to think about the fact that you’ll never have them routinely again.

“How long has it been since Van anyway, like two years?”

“Three.” You say quickly. “Three and a few months. I met Nick the winter after we called it.” You wince at the memory and promise yourself not to think about it.

“Damn, where does time go? I wonder how his band is doing. Do you think he’s still in England?”

You close your eyes and your stomach rolls angrily either from the wine or the memories, or possibly a little of both.

“I don’t know Tess, and I really don’t care either.” There’s a bite in your tone.

“You know, I saw him last summer at a festival downtown. It was the weekend you and Nick were in Barbados. He asked about you, and I laid it on thick. I was gushing over Nick actually, and how you were away at some exotic island living your best life. I was really trying to make him feel bad. I think it worked.” She laughs.

You feel your mouth open slightly and you stutter as your words escape. “You never told me about that…”

“I know. I think I meant to, but I forgot. Plus, I didn’t want to ruin your trip by texting you and telling you that I ran into him. He looked good. Kind of awkward after I filled him in on your life, though.”

“Jesus, Tess.” You close your eyes tightly. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“You’re the one who messaged me about it last night and called now. It’s your past, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe you should reach out to him. Maybe you need a rebound, and a familiar one at that. It’s better than dealing with a stranger”

“You’re awful. Do you know how bad that would hurt?”

“Hurt? Why would it hurt? You loved someone else since him. Maybe you should get back at him for all the hurt he did to you. Call him up, arrange to meet him sometime when he’s in the states again, and play with him the way he played with you for years.”

“That’s not how things work with Van McCann, Tess. You know this. Nothing affects him except music. And all that sounds like is a terrible idea. I don’t need to stir up emotions from years ago.”

“I always liked him. Even when I did hate him, I liked the two of you together.”

“Oh God, Tessa would you shut up? Please. I’m too hungover to be making a trip down memory lane with you especially if it involves Van. God dammit.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. If I’d known you were going to react like this to the pictures, I would have thrown everything out myself. I figured you’d be over everything by now, it’s been a long time. And if anything, I guess I assumed that you’d hurt more about Nick than Van. I mean, Nick asked you to marry him for crying out loud. It’s why I didn’t send any photos of him. I guess I thought, if you could get past Van, you could get past Nick, too. It’s part of the reason I sent the photos. As a reminder what you’d been through.”

“I do hurt about Nick, but it’s a different type of hurt. Honestly, I think I hurt more for him than I do for me. I broke his heart, and that makes me feel terrible. But…but Van…” you trail off.

Tessa sighs. “Van broke yours. The ball wasn’t in your court.”

“Exactly.” You breathe out loosely, feeling like you’ve just confessed sins in church.

“I’m sorry I put these memories in your head…I really thought by now- “

“I know what you thought. I thought I was over it, too. But maybe it just hurt too bad and I never really dealt with it.”

“The plot thickens.” Tessa smirks. “So…what do you think you need to do about it?”

You look around your empty living room and bite into your lip. “Learn how to be alone, I guess. And figure out why Van still has this effect on me. Maybe it’s just unpacked emotions that I didn’t deal with because I had Nick to deal with instead.”

“Maybe you should reach out to Van?”

You choke and turn it into a cough mixed with some sort of laugh. “I’d rather stand in traffic. Besides I deleted his number a long time ago.” Thank God for that, or you would have been tempted to reach out to him too many times after too many drinks, at least until Nick took your attention away from him.

“Well, I guess you’ll figure it out. For what it’s worth though, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to make your first night down there so emotional.”

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t do anything on purpose.”

You chat for a few more minutes about things before ending the call and staring out the window as the morning light softens the edges of the day. You decide to make yourself busy with unpacking and arranging things so that when your furniture comes, you can put it right where it needs to go. Your phone dings once, signaling a text message and you see Tessa’s name light up your screen. You unlock it and open the message, reading it on a frown.

Enclosed is contact information with the name “Van” attached in bold lettering. Another message pops up below it and you read it quickly. I have it. In case you want to reach out.

You don’t respond. Instead, you turn your phone upside down and begin putting dishes away. When you finish you pick up the box of photos and random memories from Tessa and shove it in the hall closet. You try to forget about everything involving Van, but as the day goes on, you find yourself humming the melody of one of the songs you listened to the night before, and you hate yourself for it.

#van mccann #Bob Hall #johnny bond #benji blakeway #Catfish and the Bottlemen #catb #catbblogs #fanfiction #vanfic

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