#her biggest crime is having claws and using them on me when she almost falls from my lap

[i-am-a-fan]

Mental health tip: every time your cat makes you a tiny bit annoyed ask them in a very serious tone: “do you hate me?”

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Panther Princess; T’Challa x child reader

*Author’s note*

Well this was a LONG time in the making, not only cause of motivation and time schedule wise but I wanted to make sure I GOT THIS FIC RIGHT since this is my first time writing for T'Challa since Chadwick's death last year (MAY HE RIP OUR KING!!!). Hope you guys enjoy this, and I’ve decided that after a few Wattpad requests I’ll open requests up here on Tumblr but there will be some MAJOR adjustments to what fandoms I’ll do. For now just be patient with me and eventually I will open requests here on Tumblr, I just don’t want to be overwhelmed.

Warnings: Malnourishment. abuse, terrorists involved (no action but just the word), some fluff.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@soy-guey

@queen-paladin

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

______________________________________________________________

It was in the dead of night when T’Challa received word about some smugglers were traveling with some stolen Vibranium, and word has it that they were working for Klaue.  Even though he had been dead, Klaue’s business was still running and forging deals with terrorists groups and anti-government parties.

Him and Okoye were flying over towards the drop-off point where the dealers were gonna be exchanging their latest steal of Vibranium.

“The dealers that Klaus’ second Lt. Rosko Lannister is selling the Vibranium to come from an Iranian terrorist group.”

“As usual we will let them make their business transaction before taking any further action. After dealing with the terrorist group and Lannister is ours, he will be put under the same crimes as we would’ve given Klaue.” T’Challa told Okoye.  She nodded as the jet continued to fly towards their destination.

It was just before sunset when at an old, abandoned warehouse Rosko Lannister and some of Klaue’s old men waited for their clients to arrive.  Soon enough driving in the black SUV’s and Honda trucks, the Iranian terrorist group came out of their cars.  Most of them were soldiers holding their AK-47’s close to their chest while out of the head van, 3 men dressed in full 3 piece suits exited the car.

They looked exactly alike for these three men were actually brothers.  Two of them were twins and the other was a year younger than his older twin brothers. Hasim, Sami, and Achmed Israeli were the three leaders of the biggest terrorist group in the world.  There was even record shown that they made deals with HYDRA back in the day.  Mostly smuggled weapons and potential serums for super soldiers.

After the fall back in 2014 when both SHIELD and HYDRA were exposed, the brothers decided to go underground and disappear under the radar.  The US and European governments have been trying to find them ever since but they are too clever and can easily cover their tracks both physically and wirelessly.

“The Israeli brothers. I can’t tell you how honored I am to be doing business with you.” Rosko praised.

“We didn’t come for praises. We came for the Vibranium. Do you have it?” the oldest twin brother Sami demanded.

“Getting down to business. That was one thing my former associate Klaue always appreciated. God rest his soul.” Rosko kissed his finger before raising them upward. “Nah I’m just kidding he was an arsehole, I’m actually glad he’s dead.” He changed his tune.

“The Vibranium. Do you have it or not!?” demanded the younger twin Hasim.

“Patience Hasim. Let the white man talk.” Sami eased his brother.  Rosko turned to one of his guys and nodded.  His left hand man let out a whistle and soon two men come carrying in a large box that was filled with the stolen Vibranium that Klaue had stowed away for himself.

The men set it down before the brothers and Achmed opened the case up to reveal the Vibranium they were looking for.  A small smirk came across Sami’s face and he said.

“Excellent. The most powerful material in the universe.”

“It did come at personal cost from Klaue, better him than me. It’s worth billions. Hope you also kept your end of the deal. This transaction is only fair if both parties agree.” Hasim smirked cunningly and turned to his general.

He nodded and exclaimed in Muslim and before Rosko even knew it. Every single one of his men was shot dead by the Israeli brother’s soldiers, leaving only him alive.

Every gun was now turned on him and Rosko had no choice but to raise his hands slowly.

“True. But when dealing with terrorists you should’ve also realized that there is a price to pay. Especially if you’ve been followed.” Sami said. At this point Rosko was confused.

“What-what-what are you talking about?”

“I’ve been in this game for a long time Mr. Lannister, I’ve seen everything and heard it all. Superheroes, aliens, psychotic androids, even real life wizards. So don’t think for a second that your actions hasn’t risen suspicion to the one who rules the very place where you got this Vibranium from.” Sami closed the case and patted it before his brother Achmed took it and had it put in the truck.

“King T’Challa has no idea of this Vibranium that was stashed away. He’s recovered the traces of Vibranium that Klaue kept public. There’s no way he could know about this.”

“Clearly Klaue had a better game face than you Mr. Lannister. For he wouldn’t have revealed such an important fact to me.” At that moment Rosko knew he had been played by the brothers.  Before he knew it, a bullet went straight into his head and he died right there.

“Surround the area. We don’t leave till the King is dead.” Ordered Achmed to his security team.  The soldiers exclaimed Arabic commands as they surrounded the warehouse with their guns outward and ready to fire.

One guard in particular heard something move behind him and he quickly turned and fired three shots but didn’t hit anything but some old crates.  His paranoia was getting the best of him and that’s what gave him away.  He was suddenly grabbed by the back of his robes and lifted up and beaten till he collapsed to the floor unconscious.

2 more guards heard what was going on and went to check on their fallen soldier when a flash of a figure ran behind them. They quickly turned and fired their guns when suddenly T’Challa came down behind them, quickly disarmed them and knocked them unconscious.

As more of the brother’s security came in and they open fired on T’Challa, he merely walked towards the security before sprinting forward and disarming the rest of them.  His claws tearing their guns apart, and using his quick ‘cat-like’ agility, he managed to take down the entire fleet.

“Israeli brothers!” he cried out.  It was then Sami came out and T’Challa revealed his face to the eldest brother.

“King T’Challa. I must say it is an honor to be in your presence.” Sami mocked.

“Did you really believe we would be unaware of this trade?”

“On the contrary, I expected this all along. It was that witless white monkey Rosko who didn’t expect to see you. But never fear, he’s out of both of our hands.” Sami said nonchalantly as he looked down at his nails.  

“If you surrender the stolen Vibranium to me, we can resolve this peacefully. But refuse, and you’ll face justice of Wakanda in Rosko Lannister’s stand. You and your brothers.”

“See my brothers and I made a pact. If we can’t escape the system, we’d be—how you say, judge jury and executioner to ourselves. And rather than rot in a cell separated, we shall join together in a blaze of glory. And we’re not afraid to take you with us, suffering the same fate as your own father did.” Sami raised his arms out like he was flying and waiting for a fiery explosion to happen.

But nothing came.

He opened his eyes to reveal that nothing had happened.  It was then coming into the open space were Ayo and Okoye who had Sami’s younger brothers. Both men were bruised and battered up pretty badly.  The two Dora Milaje members dropped his brothers down at his feet like trash and T’Challa said.

“I told you. This could’ve been resolved peacefully. But you forced our hand, especially when you had planned to blow up the place with all of us inside.” Sami growled but nonetheless raised his hands in surrender.

As the Dora Milaje were detaining the three brothers, T’Challa retrieved the stolen Vibranium when he heard something nearby.  It sounded like chains, they had defeated all of the security, Rosko and his men were all shot by the Israeli brother’s defense, and the brothers were all detained so who else was here?

“My King?” Okoye asked.

“Stay here Okoye, I want to check something out.” He told his general of the Dora Milaje.

“My king, it could be another threat we do not yet know about. Let me come with you.”

“I’m not defenseless Okoye. Now you and Ayo just put the men on the ship and let me handle this. It could be some animal or the chains fell down off of something.” Okoye nodded to her king and soon T’Challa headed deeper into the warehouse.

As he explored every bit of it, he soon noticed that there appeared to be a hidden door within the walls that was very faintly cracked open.  He opened the door and could hear the sound of the chains getting louder and louder.

It was almost like they were—pacing? They kept a constant rhythm as they would move about, in a circle pattern or something close to it.  T’Challa slowly walked towards the direction of the chains and soon found what appeared to be a cage.  A glass cage but it was inside that surprised the Wakandan King.

Inside the glass was a child.  She appeared to be around the ages of 8-11 years old. Her hair was extremely long and madded like a lion’s mane.  She looked malnourished so much so that you could almost see her bones.  But for being malnourished, how could she have the energy to pace so frantically like she was now?  He also noticed that there around her neck, wrists and ankles were chains keeping her inside.

T’Challa slowly walked out of the shadows and into the light where the child would be able to see him.  She stopped her pacing and just stared at him curiously. T’Challa disengaged his full Black Panther suit so that he was in his normal clothes.

“I am not here to hurt you.” He gently told the child.  The child slightly tilted their head like a lost puppy.  “My name is T’Challa, what’s yours?” T’Challa slowly and slowly got closer and closer to her cage as he spoke in that soft voice of his.  When she didn’t answer him he assured you, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I just want to be sure you’re okay.”

Suddenly in the blink of an eye, her (e/c) soon turned to a deep cat eye yellow.  Her body shifted into a fairly young but still decent size panther and she lashed out at the cage, knocking T’Challa off his feet in slight fear.  The child now standing before him as a full panther clawed and roared at the cage furiously.

“My King!” Ayo’s voice spoke in Xhosa and soon her and Okoye came in and when they saw the panther, they lifted up their spears in defense.

“Stand down!” T’Challa commanded them.

“But my king—this animal is feral. It was going to kill you.” Okoye reasoned with him but T’Challa told her.

“She is a human child. She shifted into this panther before my eyes. Look.” Soon enough the panther shrunk down and soon turned back into the young girl who was still pacing back and forth in her cage.

“What sorcery is this?” asked Ayo.

“Not magic. Science. Look closer at her arms.” T’Challa said.  At the section of the arm on the other side of the elbow, they noticed dozens of needle injection scars.

“This child was experimented on.” Okoye said grimly with a horrified expression.

“What do we do my King?” asked Ayo.  T’Challa looked at the child who was growling and trying to act scary even though she was no longer a panther anymore.

“We take her to Shuri. Maybe she can shed more light on the matter. Get her to the ship. But approach her cautiously. Don’t make any sudden movements.” Ayo and Okoye bowed their heads to their king and walked towards the cage.

The girl would hit her skeletal body up against the cage trying to rattle it and actually roared out a panther’s real roar, her teeth slowly growing into the large infamous canines of a real big cat. Okoye and Ayo then placed a hover bead on each end of the cage and soon the cage levitated just a few feet off the ground.

The little girl roared and began clawing at the glass but it hardly did anything as she was now being guided towards the ship.

When they reached Wakanda after dealing with the brothers, Shuri in her lab was going over the girl’s intel scan that she made of the girl from her cage with her kimoyo beads.

“So what is it you can find Shuri?” T’Challa said as he entered his sister’s lab.

“This may come as a surprise to you brother. But—she has no birth record at all. I’ve contacted some of my people in various places around the world to see if there has been any missing child and all of them have said no. My theory is that she may have been created from a test tube to look like this.”

“Any idea who could’ve made her?”

“The same organization that made the White Wolf into the Winter Soldier.”

“Hydra.” T’Challa said gravely.  Shuri nodded.

“I hacked into their old files and it only confirms my theory. Seems like they wanted to create their own Cat-god or something.”

“Any records on what her powers are? She can shift into a panther but can she also shift into anything else?”

“I’m still digging through the files, there’s a lot of files that came to creating her. It’ll take time brother.” T’Challa nodded in understandment.

“Keep me updated.”

“Yes brother.” T’Challa walked away but he turned back towards the young girl and saw that she had briefly stopped her pacing to look at him once again.

A week later after finding the child, Shuri managed to dig up that HYDRA’s plan for the Child was for her to become their Agent Battle Cat.  The ability to shift into a panther.  She also has enhanced agility, speed, and strength.

However when HYDRA fell back in 2014, they were forced to abandon the project and she had been left alone in that warehouse ever since.  Thinking about the enhancing experiments she must’ve been forced to endure or whatever genes they gave her, it allowed her to survive even being chained up in a cage for years on end until she felt like she needed to give up.

While being kept under his sister’s supervision, T’Challa also made it apparent to try and communicate with the Child, just to see if she could either understand or (in a rare case) speak in any language.  The first time he had tried to talk to her well—let’s just say she ended up with broken nails and chipped teeth after trying to take a bite of T’Challa’s forearm when he activated his suit to protect his arm from her attack.

He had finally finished his royal civic duties for the day when he decided to try and talk to the Child again.

“You sure it’s a good idea brother? You did cause her to lose her nails and chipped some of her teeth.”

“I learned my lesson last time. But you weren’t there before that happened. She had actually dropped her guard and almost looked like she wanted to communicate with me. I think I’m getting through to her.”

“Okay brother. But if she attacks you again, I doubt that’ll sit well with Mother as well as Okoye and Ayo.”

“I will handle mama and the Dora Milaje. For now see to it that no one disturbs us.” Shuri nodded and told her workers to go home for now, leaving T’Challa and the Child alone.

T’Challa slowly approached her cage to see her lying down on her side licking her broken nails.  Some of them had broken off by the top, while the rest had the entire nail broken leaving a bloody mess in it’s wake.  She was currently licking her blood stained fingertips when she caught T’Challa’s scent.

She growled and hissed angrily at him, her canine fangs extended out and her eyes shifted into the cold, yellow panther eyes.

“Steady, steady. I’m not here to hurt you.” T’Challa sat down a few feet away from the cage and continued, “I am sorry for what happened to you. I was only protecting myself from getting hurt. It was my fault for overstepping my boundaries.” Her hissing ceased and she closed her mouth hiding her fangs but she would occasionally growl lowly, her tail coming out and twitching anxiously.

They sat there in silence for a couple of minutes when T’Challa said to her.

“You know, I’ve been thinking of a name for you. You know something to call you. I’m betting the men who created you never really gave you a real human name. What do you think about—Ariana?” the Child hissed. T’Challa chuckled, “Didn’t think so. Shuri said you might like it but now I can prove to her that I was right. Now for the real options, what about…….Nala?” the child tilted her head confused.  “No? What about…..Diana?” she looked down and went back to licking her fingertips. “That won’t really help them heal. Sure it’ll clot the blood but it’s not that good for saliva to heal a wound like that.”

She looked up at T’Challa and growled lowly.

“I’m just trying to help. We have the medicine that’ll help you. I won’t lie it might sting for a brief second but it’ll help. Will you trust me with healing you, please?” the child looked between him and her fingers before slowly extending her arms out and she briefly nodded.

T’Challa then got some antiseptic and band-aids. He opened up a small section of the cage, just enough for her arms to come out.

“Thank you for your trust.” He then began to doctor her fingertips.  She let out some painful roars on the stubbed fingertips that no longer had a nail anymore but at least this time she didn’t try to attack him like last time.  He soothed her with calming phrases like ‘it’s okay. It’s won’t last long.’ And ‘Just relax, it’s almost over.’ After bandaging up her left pinkie finger he told her, “There, I’m done (Y/n).”

At hearing that name, she looked up at T’Challa curiously.  Her tail perked up and the tip curled inward.  T’Challa looked at her to see her tail fall limp to the cage floor. “(Y/n)?” her tail lifted up again and her head tilted curiously.  “So you like that name eh?” She looked at T’Challa and her nose twitched as she was trying to sniff him through the glass.

Taking a risk, he slowly reached his hand into the cage once more like before.  However this time he kept his hand in a downward position, so that his hand formed the shape of another cat’s nose.  The Child slowly crept towards his hand and gave it a sniff, when she saw that he wasn’t moving his hand, she rubbed her head against his hand for a brief second before nuzzling underneath his palm so that it sat on top of her head.

He gently began scratching her scalp which caused her to let out soft comforting purrs.  T’Challa smiled warmly and continued to gently give the child—well (Y/n) some more scritches and pets.

“Don’t you worry (Y/n). I promise I won’t allow anyone else to harm you in any shape or form.”

The next couple of months after getting her body weight back to normal and healing any other wounds she had maintained, T’Challa allowed (Y/n) to venture outside the palace with him.  Thinking the city itself was too much for her right now, he decided to take her out to the Border tribe so that she could see the outside world for the first time in her life.

Needless to say she was overwhelmed but she was happy to feel the grass beneath her feet, see the beautiful landscape, and hear all the sounds of the outside world from the animal calls to some of the Border tribe members talking with each other.

“Seems she’s getting along well.” Okoye observed (Y/n) who was cautiously watching the rhinos from their pins.

“Slowly but surely she is. Walking on two feet is still a bit of a challenge but she’ll get there eventually.” T’Challa told her.

“At least she’s learned to not attack you.”

“It was one time Okoye, be nice.”

“As your General it is my duty—”

“I understand your duty General. But you must also know that there will be times you can’t protect me. And this attack was very minor compared to the fights I’ve been in before.” It was then T’Challa saw (Y/n) now focusing her attention on some birds that had just landed a few feet away from the rhino pins.  Her panther instincts kicked in as she got into pouncing position, her pupils were fully blown and her shoulder blades flexed over one another as her butt raised higher and higher in the air.

Finally she raced forward and the birds immediately took off flying.  She leaped well over 7ft in the air and managed to capture a bird in her claws and delivered a fatal bite.  She then raced over to T’Challa and presented him the dead bird.

She placed it on the ground before his feet and backed away before tilting her head with a happy smile on her face.

“Seems she has a gift for you my King.” Okoye said. T’Challa grimaced at the gift but he quickly smiled down at her and knelt down in front of her.

“I appreciate the gift (Y/n). But—we cannot keep this bird kept within a cage. Like how I freed you, we must also allow this bird to move onto the next life.” He dug into the earth for a small shallow grave, just big enough for the bird and he placed the bird into the makeshift grave.  He buried it under the earth and he sent a brief prayer to Bast in Wakandan. “Right, now let’s head back to the palace. I have a meeting with M’Baku about reforging our alliance and allowing the Jabari tribe into the council.”

Okoye and T’Challa walked ahead when they heard something behind them.  At first they thought it was one of the goats but it sounded to hoarse to be one of them. They slowly turned around and saw (Y/n) with a hand over the grave of the bird and she was saying.

“Ba……Ba.”

“Is she……?” Okoye started.

“Ba.” (Y/n) was trying to talk!  She was trying to say the Cat goddess Bast’s name.  She managed to get out the first constant and vowel but she couldn’t figure out how to do her S and T.

“Her first time talking. She’s trying to say Bast’s name.” T’Challa knelt down and he asked her, “(Y/n), are you trying to give a prayer to Bast?”

“Ba!” she exclaimed again.  T’Challa was overjoyed on the inside that the girl he had decided to take under his wing and raise was finally trying to talk.  Many of the tutors he and Shuri had growing up had given up saying that she was incapable of speaking because all she did was just hiss and growl as well as throw things at them before laughing like a deranged hyena.

“Here I’ll help you say her name.” he adjusted himself so that he sat down and he placed his hand right next to hers and he said slowly so that she could see how his lips did it. “Say Bast.”

“Ba.”

“Bast.”

“Ba.” T’Challa shook his head.

“Watch me carefully. Bast.” He enunciated the t at the end.  (Y/n) growled lowly before taking a deep inhale and finally exclaiming.

“BAST!”

“Yes. Yes that’s it! You did it (Y/n) great job!” at seeing T’Challa’s excitement, (Y/n) began to repeat Bast’s name gleefully as she pranced around.

“A little cocky there isn’t she?” Okoye muttered.

“Let her have this moment Okoye. Besides probably hunting and killing, this is her first real big achievement. A normal milestone.”

“I suppose so.” She agreed.  Even though she might not have wanted to admit it, she thought it was adorable how little (Y/n) was finally able to speak a human language and become so happy with herself that she would prance around like a yearling antelope.

Over the next couple of years, (Y/n) continued to not only advance in her human speaking skills, but she now began to show signs of aging.  She went from that small child to now almost a young adult woman in just 2 years since finding her.  Seemed with the animal enhancement, it also increased her human aging with each time she grew stronger and tougher.

T’Challa continued to raise her as his own and pretty soon all of Wakanda looked at her as their young Princess.  Shuri loved hanging out with (Y/n) and teaching her everything there was to know about science and technology.  She even took her as an apprentice in her lab.  Okoye eventually came around and soon saw (Y/n) as a member of the royal family and took it upon herself to train her like a Dora Milaje so that she could defend herself without the need of her animal powers.

For she was the Panther Princess.

[blue-bird121]

A Night to Remember

ff.net

It was silent in the city, where lights dominated the beautiful night sky of Paris. While the stars were not visible, the lights from atop the Eiffel Tower basked the surrounding area in a golden light. It was alluring and quiet, free of crime and akumitizations. The lack of crime and those to help could make the night somewhat slow, though Chat Noir wasn’t going to complain. The change made things easier for him and Ladybug, though it was a bit suspicious.

With the silent night and nothing else on his plate, the leather clad man decided to take his leave to visit Marinette’s apartment.

The building wasn’t hard to find, especially as the soothing golden lights glistened from behind the curtains of every building, each giving way as the path lead to the window of a familiar place.

This aureate landscape was new to both of them, despite the fact that Chat Noir did not live there. Marinette had moved to gain more space with her steadily growing business in the fashion industry, leaving the bakery and childhood home behind. Though this didn’t mean that she didn’t visit often, she had gone here with him as both Chat Noir and Adrien.

In his civilian form, Adrien had used his name to help progress Marinette’s business. The Agreste family was very well known, and having him model for her line was a huge deal. Having someone of his status grabbed a lot of attention from the press and the fashion industry. Though Marinette was absolutely a talented creator herself.

While this double life helped him become a better friend towards Marinette, he did feel bad at times about knowing some of the secrets that she’d told him. Those that were personal and ones she’d never tell him as Adrien.

Secrets like she used to have a huge crush on him back in school.

Back then, she’d been such a huge advocate for him. She helped him break free of his father’s grasp, moving past his sheltered youth. It was something that he couldn’t thank her enough for. He’d also been focused on his feelings for Ladybug, instead of someone who was right in front of him. ‘Have I always been this airheaded?’, he wondered to himself, landing on the window’s ledge gracefully.

Chat went to alert Marinette to his presence, but froze from the nerves.

The idea of Marinette finding out tonight, the possibility of her rejection caused him to worry. What if she got mad or didn't want to hear from him again? He couldn't stand to give his heart, to only have it given back. He wondered if he'd almost be better without telling her, but the idea of revealing himself was set into motion. He couldn't stop himself if he tried.

He shook these thoughts from his head, quietly rapping on the window. It was late and he wanted to get her attention without alerting the neighbors to notice a guest in the twilight hours. After a few minutes, the window slid open to reveal Marinette. She had her dark hair in a bun, bangs pinned up above her face so that she could see better while working.

Chat slid in through the window, his tail curling itself around the woman’s waist as he stood to his full height. He’d become quite a bit taller than Marinette in the last few years, which was something that’d been a point to poke at her about. She stood just above his shoulder while he was six foot two.

She looked at him, making a face at the movement, and Chat smirked. His emerald green eyes met her glistening bluebell eyes for a moment before he pulled her closer. “Meowdy there, Purr-incess,” the feline said as he let go of her. He could see a bit of red across Marinette’s cheeks, which matched the color settling across his own.

Just as quickly as Marinette had been let go, she stepped away while stuttering a bit. This was a familiar sight that he remembered from their school days. She always stuttered around him and her sentences didn’t make sense back then, though they did now.

“You’re a dork,” she said with a giggle, walking away to the living room. “Come on, Kitty. Let’s go watch a movie.”

Chat follows down the hallway, looking over the woman’s mixed outfit. The top was a regular, blush colored t-shirt. Her pants were black, similar colored spots matching her top. It was obviously Ladybug themed, though not so much so that it made her look overtly like a fangirl. He watched as her hands moved to her head, letting her bangs fall back over her forehead.

Both of them moved from the bedroom to the living room and sat down next to each other. There was a bit of space between them with Chat’s right leg crossed over the other, and his arms were across the back of the couch. His left arm was over Marinette’s shoulders, though not touching the woman as she began to pick a movie.

“You picked what we watched last time, so it’s only fair that I get to pick this time,” Marinette commented, to which Chat shrugged.

“Is there still a ban on my usual movies?”

There was the sound of the rain pattering against the window, a soft drizzle beginning to fall across the city, the raindrops sliding off just as quickly as it came. Chat’s ears flicked at the sound, suddenly glad he was inside instead of still patrolling in the wet night.

“Yep. I think We’re going to watch Beauty and the Beast. The animated version, of course,” she said before starting the movie. She then set the remote down, settling into the couch with a blanket. Chat leaned across her, pulling the large blanket over to himself and slightly moved Marinette’s blanket off of her, enough to lure her closer to him. The apartment was chilly and he was warm, which he hoped to use in his favor.

The movie began and they both became quiet as Marinette slightly curled up into his blanket. He felt nervous for a plethora of reasons, but the biggest being because of his dual identity. He was sure that she would want to know who he was. Once she found out he knew so many secrets… would she still feel the same towards him, or even still want to be friends with him? The idea of Marinette never speaking to him again made Chat ponder if this was even a good idea.

For just a little while, Chat did decide to watch the movie with Marinette and forget his plans for a moment. He’d have his chance to reveal himself soon enough, when the timing was just right. Plus, he enjoyed a good musical so Beauty and the Beast scratched the right itches. The animation was beautiful as well, and he wished that Disney still did this sort of animation instead of their current CGI style. Though the CGI still had its perks.

He was too far into this now, though. He wanted Marinette to know how he felt, at the chance of ruining their friendship and partnership. She would leave a huge hole in his life if she left.

Which is where he stood now. Or well- sat. Chat managed to move his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to himself. His stomach was full of Ladybugs, churning some from nervousness.

As Belle and the Beast played on the castle grounds, he smiled while they threw snowballs at each other and enjoyed their time together. He found it so adorable and he felt like the time to share his feelings for Marinette was nearing.

When Chat shifted, Marinette took notice. She looked up at him as he leaned down, one hand on her cheek before pulling her into a soft kiss. Romance filled the air.

Chat was the first to pull away from the kiss. His eyes opened slightly, just in time to see Marinette’s eyes flutter open to meet his own. He could feel his cheeks blushing hard, this moment being the least smooth for the Cat.

Marinette’s cheeks were equally flushed, she watched him for a moment before he began to feel guilty for knowing secrets he shouldn't. She shouldn’t be left in the dark like this. It wasn’t fair towards her.

“Before you say anything. I want to show you something. Or… someone. Me, without the mask,” he said as he wanted her to know that he was Adrien beneath the mask.

Marinette seemed shocked, but shook her head vigorously. “What? N--No Chat! Your identity should remain a secret, just like any other miraculous holder. Besides, I'm sure that's what Ladybug would want you to do,” she told him.

Adrien shook his head. “I already knew that you were MultiMouse. It’s such a shame that you couldn’t come back as her either. So, I think it's only fair for you to know my identity as well,” he disagreed, eagerly wanting her to know who he is.

Then without another chance to let Marinette argue with him… Chat revealed his identity.

“Plagg, Claws in...”

In the background of their current scene, the Beast began to change back to his human form by the love that he shared with Belle. His human form was revealed to be Prince Adam, and Belle was glad to see that her prince was back.

Chat transformed back into his civilian identity while Marinette covered her eyes to try not to look at him. He was worried whether she’d be mad at him or disappointed. He didn’t know if he’d be able to recover from that.

Adrien felt upset because Marinette didn’t want to know who he really was. That she would be disappointed it was him of all people. “Please, Princess?” he asked softly, brows raised. “I want you to know who I am. We’ll be alright, I promise you.”

“If anybody found out I knew your identity, you could lose your miraculous,” she said, feeling his hands on hers. They were warm and soft. The feeling was very familiar to her for some reason, then it clicked.

Marinette’s eyes shot open in visible surprise only to see Adrien Agreste sitting in her living room. Adrien had just kissed her. She found out Adrien was Chat Noir. The man that had been flirting with her for the last ten years.

Adrien watched her face to see a wave of emotions, Plagg emerged from his pocket nibbling on some Camembert. “Marinette?” he asked softly, a hand cupping her cheek. He was unsure of what was going on inside of her head. Until she began to turn bright red.

“Since you showed me your secret… Can I show you one of mine?” she asked while he noticed the deep flush spreading across her cheeks. Her partner had been Adrien all these years and she hadn’t even guessed. Now it was her turn.

“Tikki, spots on!”, she called the little red Kwami who transformed her into Ladybug. Adrien looked shocked as Marinette transformed, though he was glad to know that it was Marinette who was his Ladybug.

“M’lady?~” he said with a smile on his face while being shocked at the same time as Marinette spoke her detransformation words. “My kitty.”

“Are you disappointed it was me?” the pair asked one another in tandem. They both let out a small chuckle as Adrien pulled his lady closer to him. She was special to Adrien, and he was glad that they knew each other's identities now. He was unable to imagine a life without her in it.

Adrien was special to Marinette as well, the guy whom she had a huge crush on back in high school had turned out to be her partner in crime all this while. She meant so much to him, and he was glad to know that he meant the same to her as well. It certainly was a night to remember.

[lo-55]

Tilt The Hourglass

Summary : "Enough." Said a voice from the Holocron. "The Sith will not be destroyed! You cannot change what we have done! You will suffer-"

"Enough." Said another, without anger. "The balance must be restored. It will tip too far. Too much pain, and a galaxy a sore in the soul. More must be done!"

Enough. Maul thought, sheltered in the arms of his rival. Enough. It’s over.

It isn't.

Maul is no longer a sith. 

He had not been one in decades, now. 

He had not been a sith since the death of Savage. Perhaps he had never been a true sith at all. His master hadn’t taught him much outside of combat. He could not produce force lightning, and his understanding of the spiritual aspect of their order was limited to what little had been necessary to encourage his hatred of jedi and what he’d needed to know to enhance his abilities as an assassin. 

He’d carried that hatred, and the hatred of all the sith that had come before him, their ashes still fresh in his mind some days. With their own agony stacked on top of his own it had been easy to nurse his grudge as long as he had. 

Few times in his life had Maul been as elated as he had been when he’d learned Kenobi yet lived. An unanswered grudge was like an untreated wound, something to fester and rot inside his chest. The chance to end their decade old dance drove him to Tatooine, where they’d first crossed paths all those years ago. Ezra, his dear(if reluctant) apprentice played his part perfectly, and Maul did nothing to keep him from leaving, save promise to see him again. He intended to keep that promise. The shattered remnants of two holocrons were warm enough in his pocket that he could feel the heat where flesh met metal. He knew; today was a great ending. 

He wasn’t expecting the pale blue light to slice through his hilt. He wasn’t expecting the smell of burnt flesh or the pain in his chest. 

He thought he would win. He thought it would be Kenobi’s ending. 

The biggest surprise was the arms that wrapped around him, saving him from falling in the sand. Warm, and careful. The shards in his pocket pulsed. A thousand Sith hissed phantom words at him. A thousand Jedi hummed ghostly thoughts. 

He stared up at Kenobi. His hair had gone silver, but his eyes were the same bright blue Maul had known for twenty years. Longer. Twenty? Thirty? 

Gods, how old had they become? 

How old was the person Kenobi protected? For a jedi to go so far for one person, when they were forbidden their attachments- 

Well. Kenobi had never been very good at that part, had he? 

They were both poor examples of their orders. 

It was enough to make Maul laugh, a hacking, wet thing that resulted with blood in his mouth and his body screaming with pain. 

“The boy,” Maul croaked. “Is he your ‘chosen one’?” The jedi in the holocron sang louder. 

Kenobi watched him, his blue eyes sad. “He is.” 

Why sad? He’d finally dealt the final blow to his enemy, to the man who killed his master, to the man who stole his love, and left carnage in his wake. Why would he be sad to have his vengeance? 

Jedi. 

“He will destroy the sith,” Maul could see it in his mind's eye, in flickers of the Force. The Sith in his pocket hissed louder in rage. Maul wanted to laugh in their faces. A Grand Plan, passed from one to the other. A success to end in failure!

A green lightsaber, so like the one that Kenobi had wielded against him. A dark cloak, ragged breathing, and an explosion that will rock the galaxy to its core. 

And at last, Maul’s own master, falling to his death just as Maul had so long ago. Poetic. 

“He will avenge us.” The both of them, tormented by Sidious, by the sith. Both of them pushed to the brink, until all that was left was the two of them alone in the desert. Maul grasped the shards in his pocket with the hand that didn’t reach for his rival. He squeezed them with all of his strength, the corners biting into his palms until a voice snarled far off. 

Enough. It said. The Sith will not be destroyed! You cannot change what we have done! You will suffer-

Enough. Said another, without anger. The balance must be restored. It will tip too far. Too much pain, and a galaxy a sore in the soul. More must be done! 

Enough. Maul thought. Enough. It’s over. 

Maul grasped at Kenobi as the darkness crawled closer. The light of the twin suns dawning crested Kenobi in a halo of light, and left Maul, again, in the shadow.

He let out the last breath of his life and crushed the holocron shard’s to dust.  

A green head poked into view. 

Maul stared up at her. 

The sky above her head was blue and wide, with puffy pink clouds streaking across it. A familiar face and a familiar sky. 

“Kilindi?” 

Was this his fate? To face those he’d killed in death? 

Yet, she did not look as she had when he had given her the most merciful death he could manage under the circumstances. She was younger. Her cheeks were fuller, and her head tails were shorter and the stripes were less distinct. Her eyes were wide and worried. 

“Oh good,” she smiled at him and sat back on her heels. “I thought you might have had your brain scrambled. Trakor threw you pretty hard.” 

Maul blinked dumbly up at her. 

Trakor. An instructor of the academy their first six years, before Meltch Krakko had come out of ‘retirement’. He was just as brutal as the mandalorian. He hadn’t thought of either of them for a long time. 

Over the years Maul had almost forgotten him and the mandalorian, so full was he with hate for others more deserving of his ire. 

(He would deny it until his dying breath, but Maul tried not to think of Orsis. Of Kilindi and Daleen, and their bodies in his arms and blood on his hands. ) 

(Oh. Wait. He’d had his dying breaths) 

(...He would still deny it) 

“Is that so?” he sat up slowly, his whole body aching. He drew his legs up. 

His legs. His actual legs, not the mechanical ones he’d had for years. Maul poked at his thighs. He grasped his knee cap between his forefinger and thumb and wiggled it back and forth. He’d been very flexible as a child. His hands were so small, his fingers were short, and calloused but they missed several scars. His arms were hidden by the long sleeves of an Orsis academy uniform, but they too were too short, and too skinny. 

“Uh, Maul?” she asked lightly, her smile dropping into concern. 

Trakor appeared over her shoulder and pushed her aside briskly. 

“Up, boy. I didn’t hit you that hard.” 

“He blacked out,” Kilindi argued. “He could be concussed!” 

When Trakor reached for him, Maul bared his sharp teeth on instinct. Trakor scowled at him. 

“Hold still,” he ordered gruffly. Maul clenched his fists, but didn’t lash out when Trakor pulled out a light and flicked it into his eyes. Maul had hated the man. He’d hated this place, and how he’d been forced to make himself lesser to pass his lessons. Maul loathed having to hold back, but he would not lie. The skills had served him well later in life. 

“I’m fine,” he said firmly. 

“Quiet. You’re going to medical.” 

“I’m fine,” Maul insisted, scowling at him. He was fine! Just dead. Maybe. Or hallucinating? Had it all been some kind of horrible vision? 

No, surely not. He had had vision through the force. None of them were like that. Not even the memories of the fallen sith, clawing their way through his skull. 

“I wasn’t asking.” 

Trakor grabbed him by the back of his shirt like he was a misbehaving youngling and forcefully dragged Maul towards the door. Maul was in the middle of trying to claw his arm off, unwilling to out himself as a force user just yet, when Kilindi fell into step with them and he scowled and stopped. 

It was… surreal. 

Trakor was brutal, and Meltch Krakko had been even more so. He had been the bane of his existence for years. He had set Maul up to be taken as a slave, for the crime of being Forceful. Maul had killed him, and years later Maul had ruled the very organization that Meltch had belonged to. 

If anyone had bothered to bury him after Maul left Orsis, Meltch would have rolled in his grave. 

The thought was enough to make him smile. Kilindi looked even more concerned. 

Maul let Trakor drag him to medical and drop him in front of a droid that Maul only vaguely remembered. Most medical droids were the same. Logic minded and professional, without a hint of bedside manner. As if Maul had ever been exposed to such things. They were for weaker creatures than him. 

He answered each question, with only a few stumbles. He couldn't answer what day it was, or who was the chancellor, and he didn’t recall the fake surname he’d been given for his time training. 

The droid declared him concussed, and sent him to rest in his dorm for the time being. Krakko, who actually looked mildly guilty, let Kilindi take him back. Maul was reminded that Mandalorians had a strange value for children. 

Maul followed Kilindi through half forgotten halls. 

She was small. So small. Not the tall young nautolan who had died with that sardonic smile. 

She was still taller than Maul was. 

Sidious had lied about Maul’s age when he enrolled him. The headmaster had been willing to look the other way, but they had to say something to other instructors and the students. They’d said he was eleven, three years older than the truth. The year he’d killed her Kilindi had plotted to throw him an eighteenth birthday party. She had been just shy of nineteen.

As far as most people were concerned Maul was just very small for his age, especially for a Zabrak. He’d learned his true age only decades later, from Mother Talzin. 

They stopped at the barracks. 

One day, when he was top of his class, Maul would be awarded his own dorm. For now he shared with the others. Only Kilindi had a private room, a perk of being Trezza’s ward. 

Trezza. 

Trezza had been one of his master’s few acquaintances to show Maul any hint of care or companionship. He had respect for him even when he was young. Respect that Sidious had never once shown him. 

Maul had to stop his fists from clenching at his side. He looked up at Kilindi. 

“I am okay. You don’t need to watch me.” 

Kilindi kept her dark eyes on him, her striped tendrils hanging around her shoulder. He had missed her. 

“I do. If you’re concussed you might die.” 

Maul flashed her a grin with his teeth. “I’m too stubborn for that.” 

Kilindi still looked worried, but she had learned even this early in their relationship that Maul truly was one of the most stubborn people alive. 

Reluctantly she left him in the barracks. 

Maul laid back on the hard bunk and tried to find some sense in the galaxy. 

~

Daleen sat with them at breakfast in the morning, and followed he and Kilindi onto one of the outdoor training balconies. 

Maul was banned from training until he’d been cleared by the medical droid, but he still planned on at least watching practice. Kilindi was tough and strong and fast, and while Daleen would never be a warrior she was dangerous in her own way. Maul wondered if she really was a lost princess, or something similar. He’d never actually found out before. He just followed Sidious’ orders. No matter how much it cost him he did as he was told. He had belonged to his master truly and wholly now. He was no apprentice. His hopes of being one were misplaced and misguided. He was just a tool for Sidious. A knife in the dark for him to loose on his enemies. 

He’d been such a fool. A young, ignorant child. One who had thought that if he only worked hard enough, if was only fast enough, skilled enough, smart enough, he might earn his masters respect. His affection. 

He was a fool. 

Maul watched Kilindi toss Daleen onto the practice mats. They were just thick enough to keep permanent damage from being done to students. He remembered them well. He’d been thrown into them time and time again, and thrown others onto them in turn. They were well worn with blood, sweat, and tears. Orsis had stood for years. Theirs was not the first class to walk its halls or spill blood upon its floors. Likely, they would be the last. 

Maul had killed well over five hundred people that night in the future. The past. 

His past and his future were one and the same. The Force had twisted his existence in on itself, curving what had been and what would over and over each other. 

While Maul may not understand how it happened, he stood in the Orsis Academy again. It was not destroyed. His- 

His friends were not dead. 

Not yet, but his master would order him to kill them, in six years time. 

There was another problem. Maul’s master. 

Over the years Maul had learned many things. He thought he could keep his master from cottoning on too soon to what had occurred, but the fact of the matter remained that eventually Sidious would notice something was different about his apprentice. 

Eventually he would want answers. 

Eventually Maul would not be able to stop himself from trying to kill the man. 

He had taken everything from Maul. His childhood. His future. His brother- 

Savage. 

Savage still lived. On Dathomir, being groomed as a slave for the Nightsisters. As long as he lived. 

Maul started prowling around the arena where Kilindi was showing Daleen how to properly throw someone over your hit. It was all about leverage. Maul was small like this. He would need to consider that too when he started fighting. His limbs were short and weak. He was small and untested. He would have to change the way he fought. That was fine. He’d never had the raw muscle of Savage. 

He would go to him. In time. When he could manage it without getting the both of them killed. 

During his time studying what few sith and even jedi artifacts he could get his hands on, and his time devouring Nightsister lore he had learned different ways to shield his mind. Ways that would arouse far less suspicion that the iron walls he was used to constructing to protect himself. Hopefully those methods would keep Sidious from looking too close at the lurking ocean of animosity inside him. 

At this age Maul still did not hate the man. 

He admired him. He wanted only to please him. 

A fool indeed. 

“I am prepared to lose what I most value,” Sidious had told him before Hypori and his final test there. “So must you be to become a sith. You must be ready to lose your own life in order to win.”

 Maul felt Exhilarated. He was determined to prove he was the best apprentice in the history of the sith.

He’d nearly died. He’d nearly gone mad. 

Still could he feel the cold stone of the cave where he dueled his master. He fell against the wall, his body burning with rage and infection, his injured leg a source of constant agony. He struggled to breath. Even the Darkside could not banish his fever. 

Still could he hear Sidious howling with laughter. "I saw your weakness long ago. Your doubts in your own abilities. Your doubts in my teaching. Your inability to embrace the dark side. And that is why, over these long years, I have secretly trained another apprentice."

Maul had stared hard at Sidious. He hadn’t wanted to believe him. He hadn��t wanted to trust the taste of betrayal on his tongue or the coursing anger in his veins. 

"Or, poor Maul. All he ever wanted was a friend. Does it please you to know I have another apprentice? Does it make you feel less alone?" 

Breathless and in pain Maul had said, "More than one apprentice... is against rules of the sith."

"You are right," Sidious said with a grin. "A spark of intelligence, at last. My second apprentice is on the other side of the planet. He conquered all of the assassins sent after him. He only sustained a flesh wound. He is healthy. He is strong. Unlike the pathetic weakling I see before me." 

It was then that Maul realized his opponents had not really been the assassin droids. He thought of all the punishment he had endured over the past month, and then of the unending punishments of his entire life. He thought of his true opponent, the unseen adversary, chosen by Sidious to become a Sith Lord. Maul felt robbed of his past and future. And then a rage unlike anything he had ever felt before swelled through him. The rage was so overwhelming he thought it might consume him.

 No. He had thought, a boy of only seventeen, I can direct it. My rage will consume my enemy. It will consume my master. 

Glaring at Sidious, Maul saw the true face of his enemy. Sidious snickered. 

"Can you understand? Focus. If there can be only one apprentice, then one of you must die. Who do you think I have chosen to die, Maul?"

He’d attacked. He’d lost, been beaten soundly, and even at the end he’d bit the hand that had fed him, sinking his sharp teeth into Sidious’ human skin. He could still taste his blood if he tried. 

Maul wished he had killed him then.

His thoughts carried him to the voices of the holocron he’d destroyed. There was an imprint on his palm now, two pointed scars. One triangular, one square. They were burned into his skin. 

You cannot change what we have done. You will suffer-

No. 

The Sith had taken everything from him once already. He would not allow them to do it again. 

He could not take on his master yet, but perhaps he could buy himself time. With the mind guarding techniques he’d learned he could keep Sidious from realizing exactly what had happened, but he would need more than that. He tried to think. 

Daleen managed to slip Kilindi over her shoulder at last. Force. Maul hadn’t realized how much he missed them. 

He would not kill them again. Not for Sidious. He would kill no one for that man. 

Last time it had happened because Meltch Krakko had sold him out to the Nightsisters, and to slavers from Rakkata. If he could prevent that from happening perhaps he could prevent the massacre. To do that he either needed to get better at hiding his force abilities, or keep Krakko from coming to Orsis in the first place. That would irritate his master as well, who had wanted Krakko to teach Maul all along. 

Maul paused his steps. 

He liked that option more, but it would be more difficult to pull off. 

How could he keep Krakko from coming back to the Academy? If Maul recalled he’d left to join the Mandalore civil war. Death Watch. 

After he’d taken over Mandalore Maul had looked into its past. The Mandalorians were powerful warriors, who had gone toe to toe with the Jedi order in the past. His own Mandalorians had even risked themselves to rescue him when Sidious had taken him away. They hadn’t needed to. He didn’t expect them to. 

Could he really betray them? 

Maul looked down at his small hands. 

The men and women who had been under his command were all his age or younger. The only ones older were Vizla, who he’d killed, and a handful of others who had also caused him problems. He knew that Mandalorians valued children. They would not harm the people who had made up Maul’s Death Watch. 

With that small comfort in mind he began to spin his plan. 

“Kilindi,” he called, interrupting the girls spar. It was a ‘free day’, a day where trainees were free to pursue their own specialities, or do supplemental work for classes they had trouble with. The Nautolan looked over at him, her dark eyes bright. 

“Yes?” 

“I’m going to look up some current events.” 

“Oh, I’ll come with,” Daleen volunteered eagerly. She was sweaty and bruised. Her dark hair stuck to her head. Maul wondered how she could stand the feeling. 

“Why?” Maul asked with a frown. He knew they had been friends, once, but they had only known each other for a little while here.  

“Well, I know more about what’s going on in the galaxy than either of you two,” she said reasonably. “And I know how to sort through information better.” 

Maul wanted to argue with that, but at this age he was more of a warrior than anything else. If he suddenly knew all about slicing and reading under the lines, and researching things he wasn’t supposed to know it would be more than a little suspicious. 

“What are we looking for?” Kilindi asked. The three of them fell in step together and walked towards the computer labs. It felt natural. It felt right. 

It was enough to make Maul sick with grief and anger. 

He pushed those feelings down for now. 

“Mandalore.” 

“Mandalore?” Daleen cocked her head. Her dark hair fell across her cheek. “Why?” 

“Why not?” Maul retorted. She made a face at him, and he loosened, just a little bit. “There’s conflict there. I want to know what’s happening. Mandalorians are good fighters.” 

“We used to have a mandalorian instructor,” Kilindi said helpfully. “He left to fight in the civil war a few months before you came.” 

That would help him set up a timeline. 

“Who is the Mand’alor?” Maul asked, looking from one girl to the other. 

“Depends on who you ask,” Daleen said unhelpfully. “There’s two factions. The True Mandalorians, and the Death Watch. Oh, and I guess there’s New Mandalorians too, but they aren’t doing much yet.” 

“Pacifists,” Maul said, wrinkling his nose. He had respect for the mandalorians, but not for that sect. They had gutted their own culture in the worst possible way. 

They entered the lab and took the far terminals in the back. Maul let Daleen take the main chair while he sat to her left. He checked the date, for all the good it would do him. 

Most of what he knew of the Mandalorian Civil War came from the Death Watch, and his people there. Most of them would be children now, and were only repeating their parents exploits, or what parts they’d had as young teenagers. Rook Kast in particular liked to tell him about the history of her people on long travels to their allies. 

She would be an infant by this point. Maul wondered if they would see each other again. 

Daleen flicked through articles, which only so helpful, but they gave him a timeline at least. Maul tapped his fingers along his thigh. His thigh that he could feel because it was real, and he still wasn’t used to that. It was overwhelming sometimes. He’d gotten only vague sensation through his prosthetics, and though he had increased it through the force it wasn’t the same. 

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Kilindi teased, poking his cheek. “You’re thinking too hard.” 

Maul scowled at her, but didn’t swat the touch away like he instinctively wanted to. He knew she meant no harm to him. Even if he didn’t, the Force told him as much. 

“What are you thinking of?” Daleen asked, watching him out of the corner of her eyes. 

Maul considered his answer. How could explain what he was going to do, or why he was going to do it to the girls? He couldn’t tell them the truth. That would be insane. He halfway thought he was insane but- 

Kriff it. 

“There’s something I need to do. Someone I need to contact, but I needed to make sure I wasn’t too late.” 

“Well that’s vague and unhelpful.” 

Maul shot Kilindi a baleful look. She smiled back at him. 

“I didn’t say we wouldn’t help you. I just wanna know what we’re doing.” 

“You don’t have to help me. And you have no reason to,” he added pointedly. 

Kilindi shrugged. 

“I want to. Daleen?” 

“Same,” she nodded quickly. “And if you’re really gonna be weird about it you can pay us back later. Think of it as owing us a favor.” 

From anyone else Maul probably would have denied it on principle. 

From the two of them, he agreed with only a bit of hesitation. 

~ ~

[popculturebuffet]

Blacksad: Arctic Nation Review: Digging Two Graves

Welcome you beautiful technicolor rainbow. And today I continue my black History Month coverage, this time with one that was suggested by Kev, my patreon on patreon and the blog’s biggest supporter, who sent me a bunch of things I could review for Black History month and, loving this comic and feeling given the events of last year with George Floyd that have had rightful shockwaves ever since, it was perfect.  

For those needing a refresher Blacksad is a spanish produced french released comic series about John Blacksad, a grim private detective in a 1950′s set world full of anthromphized animals. It has gorgeous art, endless atmosphere and utterly captivating stories. Last month I covered the first story, Somewhere in the Shadows, since this one was only number two and I could track the series evolution better, and I loved the series and could make room on the schedule so there was no real reason NOT to do it. And since i covered most of the series background that time, I can dive in quicker to this one. So join me under the cut to see how the series evolves and to see a black cat take on white supremacists with the help of a smelly weasel. 

First things first.. the cover, which is from the original version and was lovingly reprinted in my copy, is goregous and simple: John grimly and camly carrying a scared child through a bilzzard past the wreckage of a plane. It’s instantly eye catching, our black furred hero in a bilzzard of white.. and also serves as a great metaphor for a story dealing with white suprmacy as well as our hero trying to find the child he’s trying to keep safe on the cover. It’s just perfect. 

We open in the Line, a city in the arctic, with Blacksad morosely narrating how one day he’ll write his memoirs, as he figures they’ll sell well given the public’s grim fascination with murder. We soon find out why tha’ts on his mind as the comic “pans out”... to show a black bird with a long neck horrifcally and publicly hung in a hate crime. It’s an utterly ghastly sight I will not be sharing, but needless to say it sets the tone and the setting in one horrific image. 

John’s interuptted though by the introduction of Weekly. Weekly is a local journalist who true to his name, only takes a bath once a week and immidetly pisses off john by being nosey, assuming john is also a journalist and casually remaking about this horror show being a hate crime. Despite this terrible first impression.. Weekly goes on to be John’s best friend and sidekick, providing some levity in his grim world for the audience, while as we’ll soon see being FAR more useful and competent than his demeanor and lack of hygine lets on. 

For now though, John has to go meet his client: Miss Grey, a schoolteacher whose hired John to find a missing girl, Kaylie, one of her students. Those around the neighborhood are relcutant to look into it, including Kayle and the police, who as we’ll learn very soon are white suprmacists, simply blame it on the Local Black Claws gang. Miss Grey also fills us in on the line’s backstory: it was once a propserous suburban place.. until the local plane plant closed down, leading to a rise in crime and unemployment with the place slowly but surely falling into decay.  Despite this she’s determined to stay and fight.. and John is touched by her noblility and tells her he will do everything he can. And while that’s a natural thing to tell your client.. it feels genuine, that John senses this woman’s deep resolute will to keep going, and feels for her as the ONE PERSON who cares a small child went missing and isn’t either ignoring it or simply being a racist dickhead about it.  John may hide it under lairs of cynsim and grumpus... but he’s good man and as we see he’ll go to hell and back to do the right thing. 

We soon properly meet the titular Arctic Nation... who are as you would expect, a white suprmacist group, calling yesterday’s lynching a necssary thing and spouting your usual horrifying rhetoric about a white world and stuff. The Arctic Nation are also made up almost entirely of Arctic Animals.. and honeslty that’s a way to do a white supermacy metaphor I never thought of, simply having the fur be black and white, and using the fact most arctic animals are by nature predators to give us some naturally intimdating looking antagonists. One of them also is clealry not Happy John’s around, nor that John rather than be afraid or look nervous in the slightest... is simply pissed as he should be and simply dosen’t give a shit.. and given assholes like this love attention and pissing people off, it probably makes him even madder. Good. 

John runs into Weekly again, and while still not happy to see him, Weekly is nothing but friendly and offers peace and a warm drink in a cold land.. and John takes him up on it noting in narration that since they are clear outsiders here... why not? Any port in a storm and given the blizzard of white supramcey just outside, John can’t help but take refuge in a diner. There’s also a really nice touch in  their drinks with John having a simple .. alchohol ( I don’t drink sue me) and Weekly having something called a burobon mlikshake . Weekly outlines that the Line is about to explode with racial tension with two diffrent suprmacist groups: The arctic nation , who he freely and rightly mocks and the aformentioned black claws. 

Before they can continue though two of the goons from outside come in and harass an old black bird at the counter, saying can’t he read the sign.. before he’s revealed to be blind. They confront John next... who gloriously takes NONE of thier shit, wirly pointing to his patch of white fur, which indicates him as mixed race in this unverse and says does this count. 

The racist asshole dosen’t take the hint that maybe this isn’t going to work and tries provoking john by threatning ot turn him into a coat.. and john insults his, and his whiteness and we cut over to the head of the white suprmacist rally asking the owner to call the police, the owner only relcutantly agreeing when we see the supremacist asshole fly into the bar. 

So naturally we next see our heroes in the office of Karup, the local police chief, polar bear and not even hiding it white suprmacist who talks proudly about his confederate saber on the wall and asks if John knows who it belonged to. His response is priceless. 

Damn.. it takes balls of fucking platinum, on both of them, to be called into an unapolgetic white suprmacists office and roast him to his fucking face. It’s what we should all do granted but still, props to both of htem. it also shows Weekly, desipte being kinda sketchy.. is every bit as brave as his friend, and takes these fuckers every bit as seriously. That is to say they both KNOW their in danger.. they just don’t CARE, feeling rightly that simply cowtowing to Karup like he wants is not worth thieir damn time, and that he deserves no fear, no respect and nothing he wants. Just mockery for clinging to an outdated and horrific set of ideals like all white supremacists then and now. Karup is forced to let htem off with a warning as his wife shows up.. and Weekly wolf whistles at her because awesome he may be he is not a class act and this is still the 1950′s where that was okay for some reason. 

We next catch up to John that night where he’s taking in a driving movie involving giant ants. 

He’s naturally here not to take in a good b movie, nor is he being forced to watch it by mad scientests, but here to find Kaylie’s mother Dinah, who agrees to talk to him after her shift.. and John grabs a peak at her ass while she walks away.

Dinah has good reason for not calling the cops though... as she puts it, she has no faith in white justice, and given the police chief had a fucking confderate flag in his office, and many STILL do today, yeah fair point. We also find out she used to work for Karup, so she knows damn well he won’t be helpful at best or use looking for as an excuse to lynch more innocent black men at worse. Of course John, while symaptehtic brings up something about Oldsmill, and gets rightfully slapped for it. 

We next see John talking to weekly, who he’s just kind of accepted is his sidekick now. Their grocery trip is interupted by the claws, who show up, beat up the racist shopkeep.. and then harass our heroes, beating up weekly to get him to say their innocnet of the kidnapping. This however.. shows that while not AS bad as Karup, clearly.. their still not good people. Weekly GLADLY would’ve printed what they asked if they’d actually asked, and instead they beat him up to do so, and the person who did so dosen’t endear himself further by asking john “What happened to your snout brother?”. As with last time, his response is fucking perfect

He wisely backs off though is still confrontational about it. Weekly wonders if john really was going to shoot him, and my response is...

He absolutley would’ve. John asks if he’s really going to print that crap.. and of course Weekly is. That’s where the story is, and he points out he’ sa star reporter and his name apparently comes from coming in with a big story once a week. John isn’t amused.. but could use Weekly’s help and tell shim to keep an eye on Karup’s household for him since he can sneak in there and be far less notecable. And he agrees. I’ll go ahead and say it.. weekly was an invaluable addition to the story and a missing peace for Blacksad they needed: like robin to batman, he provides someone for him to talk to, a bit of badly needed levity, an dprovides blacksad an ally no matter the case or situation, and one who has every reason to help both because hteir friends.. and because it’ll get him a good story, and his background as a reporter gives good reason as to why he’s good at this.

Something else to note is John has also taken on more of a sarcastic streak as you can tell and I love it: instead of being grim all the time it gives a human touch to him.. while still making him utterly badass as he usually uses it to disarm an asshole flexing their power over him. It simply adds some shades to his already wonderful personality. 

We finally meet Oldsmill who denies having anything to do with it, as the rumor is his heavily inbred son is Kaylee’s father and Oldsmill belivies it was karup since he was apparnetly married to a black woman once. Oldsmill is also a racist ass blaming the downturn in things on black people instead of you know, the plant closing. John has what he needed.. and has a good shot at oldsmill pointing out if he actually mixed races his son might of turne dout okay instead of a braindead inbred moron. 

Weekly hides in the bushes at karups.. and soon finds his wife plowing the head of the arctic nation we met earlier,  huk, behind his back. “I love this job!”.... dude.. no just.. no. Don’t watch people have rough sex that’s just.. no. But he found out more as tailing them afterwords, he found them at a table with Kaylee’s mom, clearly wanting her to keep quite for some reason with Dinah not wanting her to suffer. Naturally she’s John’s next stop.. but instead he finds her brutally murdered, her body twisted and him lamenting that someone so full of life.. has lost hers and even if he achieves his goal now.. Kaylee lost her mother. And involved in whatevers’ going on or not.. she clearly loved her kid and whatever she got caught up in she died.. simply for proioritzing her daughte’rs own saftey and wellbeing over it. She was also stabbed with what John suspects to be.. a saber. Hmmmm.

John has no proof.. but decides fuck it, and goes to confront Karup anyway. His wife speaks up against him as does Huk... but given Weekly told john about her taking Huk in through the back door yeah... that dosen’t go great. And after Choir practice, Karup beats the every loving piss out of Huk for it, and tells him before that that, now weekly's’ actually printed the story he said he was going to, it’s open season on him and blacksad. 

So unsuprisingly, Blacksad suspects he’s been kidnapped when we catch up with John and interogrates the blind bird from earlier, whose trying to sell weekly’s camera, and successfully batman’s him into taking him to where Weekly is. Menawhile Karup confronts his wife.. who mocks him and has no sympathy and accuses him of being a pedophile like everyone else has. He takes it badly and tells her to get out and to no one’s suprise.. has an arctic nation flag in his drawer. I do not get what this was supposed to prove as we know he’s a white suprmacist piece of shit and that previous scene with Huk showed that he’s directing the nation from beihind the scenes. 

While the Bird brings john through and John laments his time as a vetran,  we find their headed for a nation meeting, complete with Klan style robes.. and Karup getting ambusehd. someone having put bloody children’s clothes in his trunk. Karup is hunt and while he clearly IS innocent, given Huk both presented the evidence and let’s face it it was either him or Karup’s wife jezebel, and I have no sympahty because not being a pedophile does not make him any less of a horrible abusive piece of  shit. 

Someone we DO actually care if they live or die next is weekly, whose terrified, the defiance from earlier gone.. which is fair as he knows he’s about ot die and dosen’t know John.. is right there, revealed via his paws as he prepares weekly to escape and has infilrated the nation in the robes. John’s next action is also utterly badass as he SWINGS FROM THE NOOSE, KICKS OVER THE BURNING CROSS THE NATION SET UP. 

Huk escapes and unsuprisingly is behind the kidnapping.. and the Magpie from earlier knew it and tires to stop him and gets shot. John kills one of the white suprmiacists and makes his wya out, finding Weekly, who escaped as john instructed and the two find the bird man.. is not dead and he takes htem to Kaylee. He dies in a really tearjerking scene, clearly senile and clearly talked into this. 

Naturally the next day, John reveals via narration that the Line’s remaining police didn’t give a shit about what happened, a racist paper actively comended it as “how justice should go” and that Huk escaped... and naturally John isn’t going to let that shit slide down the glass. Huk however is dead when he finds him having gotten his but clealry this dosen’t quite satisfy john. 

John listens to the song “Strange Fruit” while dressing up all fancy and looking damn good I must say. He’s preparing for a funeral and Weekly tries to help his pain.. by offering him the shots of Huk and Jeezebel.. only John spots something and tells weekly to get all he can on Karups first wife. 

Turns out the funeral is Karups... and John confronts the widow who tries to brush him off.. before tearing her shirt open to reveal a black spot.. which while a neat reveal.. GOD that’s fucking creeptastic. Seriously while this story is moving, brilliant and all sorts of things i’ll gush about.. it has some REALLY creepy undertones at times with John’s treatment of Dinah, Weekly taking pornographic pictures of two people without their consent, and now this.. I mean it’s not exactly unsuual for the time but you may want to not make your heroes look like sex monsters is all i’m saying. 

We finally get the full story: Dinah and Jezebel are Karups children the product of his first marriage that was geninely loving.. until Karup turned bitter and racist and upon finding out she was pregnant drove his wife out to the middle of nowhere in the middle of winter and left her to die. ...... sorry I was just fondly remembering him getting his neck snapped by the noose. Anywyays their mom did surivive long enough to give birth but the sheer pain of well.. everything collapsed on her and she eventually passed when they were young. Both sisters wanted revenge and since Jeez could pass for white, she married her own dad, and got some satstifactoin over not letting him touch her, and got Kaylee into the house. So she seduced Huk, even if clearly by the panel sleeping with that piece of shit greatly hurt Jez to do, and used him to set up the fake kidnapping scheme to frame Karup as a pedophile. 

As for why Dinah died.. if it wasn’t obvious by now Huk did it not realizing Jez and Dinah were sisters and took Dinah’s udnerstandable worry about her daughter.. as concern she’d squeal. His death and who did it should be obvious and given he’s almost as big a piece of shit as karup, only barely avoiding that because his murder wasn’t his own PREGNANT wife. Jez assures John it’s all over and her mother and sister can rest in peace.. but John cuts through this with one simple fact: “What about Kaylee?” Sure Karup deserved it.. but going so far int heir revenge cost a girl her mom, and the weight of this finally hits Jez who merley collapses saying “i’m cold” knowing that in the end.. her revenge wasnt worth it. And really that’s the center of the story: Revenge.. and how it’s ultimately hollow. To quote Mr. Miyagi from the karate kid on revenge, as I feel it’s UTTERLY relevant to this story “You might as well dig two graves”. The sisters COULD’VE had a decent life on their own, living as who they were in spite of karup, leaving the line behind when they could and taking Kaylee with them. Instead? While Karup and Huk rightfully died and those deaths are a good thing.. the arctic nation shows no signs of slowing down and likely didn’t losoe EVERYONE in the factory fire, a child is orphaned, Jez wasted her life as someone she wasn’t to get revenge on a man who didn’t even know she existed. While two very bad men died.. it cost two other lives and a child’s innocence to do so. 

So we close at Miss Greys, having taken Kaylee in for obvious reasons. John encourages Grey to keep going, that maybe with someone like her.. this region might get better. While the adults are lost... maybe the children can be better. Though John sadly looks at Kaylee, after she pelts week with a snowball, and i’ts clear from both of their faces the events haunt them. While john saved her.. he still couldn’t save Dinah. We end though on a very lovely scene: as John and Week prepare to get the hell out of dodge their job done, Weekly, seeing John’s very haunted by the events reveals the real reason behind his name: the boys only think he changes his underwear once a week. And this gets a hell of a laugh out of john... and ends a very dark story with a very grim resolution on a hopeful note: Things may of ended terribly.. but with the nation weak.. there’s some hope at least things might get better... and sometimes a little hope is all you need. It’s also a nice show of how far the two have come: From John really destesting week.. to the two being the close friends they’ll be from here on out, there for each other no matter what. And it really shows in the endings: Last album ended iwth John morosely sinking back into the shadows. Here while not much happier.. it ends with him at least.. not alone.. and with some hope things will get better. They have to. 

Final Thoughts:

Arctic Nation is a masterpice. While the sexist comedy bits have not aged well the story is THROUGHLY relevant, a story of revenge, prejudice and standing up to prejudice, and after the last four years of having a president blantly favor white suprmacists and corrupt cops while things only got worse.. seeing John stand up to that flavor of monster with bravey, wit and most importantly no fear, was UTTERLY cathartic. It’s a captivating story that keeps you hooked the whole time. 

And while on it’s own the story is very good and stands firm, as the second adventure for john.. it improves on somewhere in the shadows in every way except the art, which was already perfect last time and is just as excellent this time and is easily some of the best comic book art period. But the narrative is far more intresting this time going from a pretty standard noir setup to a fairly unique one as while “hero is stuck in a town where he’s an unwelcome outsider” isn’t new, having that blended with white supremacy is brilliant and provides an unyileding wave of tension over the story, as our hero is ONLY not lynched right away because his enimies are being careful and trying to appear resonable when their just bigoted bullies with delusions of grandeur like all whit esuprmacists. Our hero is not safe, he is not welcome, but he WILL NOT give up on a child whose been lost and needs his help. It’s a far more gripping setup and the payoffs including the awesome warehouse climax and the huge reveal at the end, all feel oh so worth it but the journey is never boring. THe additoin of Weekly was also easily the best move, as while he probably wasn’t intended to be permenant, his goofball demanour, skill beneath that, and great dynamic with John add some levity to the grim nature of blacksad’s world, and give him someone to work off of so we don’t get all the exposition via the narration, allowing it to breathe and come about when needed rather than be a constant presence. While Somewhere in the Shadows was good.. Arctic Nation is a masterpiece, and teh series would keep that level of quality and nuance from here on out. 

I’ll be taking a break from blacksad for a while, so I’m genuinely not sure when i’ll be getting to red soul as I have other projects I deserpately need to get back to in april first, but i promise he’ll return some day. For now if you liked this review, follow me for more including weekly reviews of ducktales and amphibia, a lena sabrewing retrospective and if you really like this you can chip in a buck or two a month on patreon. The more contirbutions I get, the more likely i’ll hit my stretch goals and I have some pretty neat ones so check it out, there’s a link on my blog. And  see you at the next rainbow. 

[clinioelerrante]

To be fainthearted…

That a student of Hogwarts was prowling the corridors of the castle in the wee hours of the morning was not uncommon.

The fact that this student belonged to Gryffindor House was even less so.

That such a student had hair that was red as hellfire could almost be considered normal.

The fact that this particular student was mumbling curses and oaths about a certain frizzy-haired which, it had been part of the regular school scene for more than 4 years.

But for such a student, at the height of Dolores Umbridge's reign of terror, to wander aimlessly, alone, under a disillusioning spell, with the marauder's map in hand and risking exemplary punishment or even expulsion from school, was decidedly atypical.

“A fucking wart? Mmm-hmm. A fucking wart and a fucking teaspoon?...” He mumbled as he took long strides through the corridors, almost oblivious to everything else. “My arse!”

Everything had started after the DA meeting. Cho Chang had accosted Harry in room of requirement while the rest of the group had dispersed. Hermione and he had gone to Gryffindor common room at and were having a relaxed conversation until she insisted that he complete his task while she wrote a letter. Hermione's parchment was already over the edge of the table and hanging dangerously close to the floor, when Harry came through the hole behind the portrait.

It had been perfectly obvious that something had happened. While one could not say that Harry had arrived with a completely dumb face, it was no less true that he was the closest thing to the face of someone who had been struck by a stunning spell.

With Harry’s apparent inability to explain what had happened, Hermione had taken the initiative in the conversation until he blew up the cauldron:

“Have you kissed?”

Wait... What? Harry would have kissed Cho or maybe it was Cho who kissed Harry? After the initial surprise, he was enthusiastic about his friend and wished he did it.

Of course! He'd been aware of Hurry’s crush on Cho since last year. One would have to be blind not to see him with that deer's eyes accompanied by a slight drooling every time Cho entered the scene! But following the usual pattern of shitty luck in Harry Potter's life that was the time when the bird was dating Cedric Diggory.

The memory of the partner killed by Peter Pettigrew overshadowed Ron's memories. Cedric was a good guy and his end had been unexpected, unjust and one more to add to the long list of Wormtail's coward crimes. Top of them, the betrayal of Harry's parents: Lily and James Potter.

“You filthy rat!" he swore. “If I had known, I personally would have left you alone with Crookshanks in a nice little room without a single hole in its walls and an undisturbed spell on the door.

The point was that Harry was still attached to Cho, if not more so, and it seemed that she had begun to notice Harry. There was no doubt that he had turned out to be a brilliant teacher in the DA meetings, added to his perpetual challenge to the pink toad and the legendary fight at the quidditch pitch had contributed enormously, to increase his sex appeal according to some whispered comments that he had heard between the women of the DA and some boys.

Ron wished with all his heart that, “For once!”, Harry's bad luck changed and like any normal teenager, he could live a normal life enjoying the intimate affection of a hot girl who she like him, although in his opinion ...a Tornado fan was not good enough for Harry. . . One flash of a long red hair burst into his mind making him shake his head to free himself from such disturbing vision.

But as usual, Harry hadn't had any luck with it either.

Instead of the first-time nervous or inexperienced teenager's kiss, it had resulted in little more than a disaster that had trapped Harry in the pit of insecurity in his ability to kiss properly a girl and later, with Hermione's invaluable assistance and her detailed talk about Cho Chang's state of emotional turmoil, he guessed in Harry, the doubt about the appropriateness of attempting any kind of relationship with such an emotionally damaged girl and, knowing Harry's legendary hero complex, he would be able to give up the girl if he thought it was sparing him any further pain. A massive Dragon’s dung in Ron's opinion, so he had used his best weapon to pull Harry out of his stupefaction and keep him from falling into his usual melancholy self-isolation; a joke:

“No one can feel so many things at once. It would explode!”

Ron doubted that anyone could explode because of it. If himself hadn't exploded with everything that's happened in the last year, it would be strange if someone else did. “Okay. Maybe Neville would go into a coma or pass out, but I don't think so. Dealing with Mrs. Longbottom for so many years had given him much more courage than many would give him credit for.”

In any case, Hermione's words had unleashed an emotional storm inside Ron, and the problem was that he saw no way to refute the logical sequence of events that had been linked together and seemed to form the links of a chain that wrapped around his neck.

Harry was diligent, brilliant, and handsome, he was not. Harry would have deserved to be prefect of Gryffindor, he didn't. Harry was extraordinary in Quidditch, he wasn't. . . “But Victor fucking pumpkin head Krum  is too. So rich. Could be richer as Harry even and. . . . and I'm sure he's experienced enough to know how to kiss a woman properly and. . . Oh God! How does Hermione know Harry is a good kisser and who has she been able to compare him to. . . ?”

He couldn't help it. His mind was filled with the slow motion image of Hermione kissing Krum torridly, trapping his ridiculously short hair between her thin fingers and taking his lips as if from them she extracted the air she needed to breathe, while one of his hands remained on her delicate waist and the other slowly ascended from her hip to caress her entire chest, provoking a lustful moan in her.

Ron felt the periphery of his vision turn red and his fists instinctively clenched so tightly that he felt his own nails sink into his flesh. He felt the need to rip the bastard's head off and when he looked up to face him, his mind was filled with Harry's gaze as he kissed Hermione passionately.

A familiar black claw wrapped around Ron's heart and squeezed it empty until it was breathless. He had never felt such pain or such overwhelming despair. Without being able to avoid it, from the depths of his being, a cry of impotence burst out, which ascended through his throat and escaped from him like the roar of the mortally wounded lion that intends to take his killer away with his last breath. . .

“Who's there? Don't try to escape. Inquisitorial Squad, with me!”

Ron cursed himself. He was so overwhelmed by the pain his own mind had generated that he had forgotten about bloody Umbridge and its band of mangy snakes patrolling the school corridors. Without thinking too much, he rushed to the double-leafed doors in front of him and entered.

“Professor Umbridge. Here!”

Blood seemed to be boiling in Ronald Weasley's veins. He'd recognize that voice anywhere. It was like the Malfoy and Weasley families had some sort of bond in destiny that would inevitably lead them to confront each other. The bloody bouncing ferret was on the other side of the door blocking the exit and calling for the great inquisitor to fall on him. Ron could hardly have imagined the satisfaction it would cause the flathead to discover that the student who violated the curfew was a Weasley and, among them, Harry Potter's best friend, no less! Nothing would make him happier than to witness another humiliation by Ronald Weasley. He was in these thoughts when another, much more disturbing, one made its way into his mind.

Umbridge! This would be like an early Christmas present for her. She would take advantage of the fact that it was him to provoke Harry and that would give her the perfect excuse to expel him.

Shit! You bloody fool couldn't have held back yourself, he thought to himself. No wonder Hermione can't see you as anything but a good-for-nothing. . . Hermione! Oh my God! If neither Harry or I are here, the ferret and the fucking toad are going to torment her to death. They're going to beat her and provoke her mercilessly until she quits or explodes and they can finally expel her. This would kill her. Shit, shit, shit, I'm the biggest asshole on the face of the earth. . .

“Grand Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge here". The voice of the disgusting toad was heard on the other side of the door. “I order you to leave that room.”

Ron, not breathing, stood three feet from the door waiting for the fatal decay.

“There's nothing to be afraid of"; he said with false sweetness. “All of us here are friends and we care about the safety of the students at the school. The Ministry only wants the best for all the magical children in the UK...” Ron thought that sounded suspiciously similar to a certain muggle story Hermione had once told him about a witch, one stupid girl and a poisoned apple...

“I'm absolutely sure is not your fault"; and this time there seemed to be some poison in her voice. “No doubt you'd be following the horrible example of Mr. Potter and his friends about how much fun it is to walk around the castle at this hour, but they don't have the good breeding of those born into completely magical families". She said scornfully, “And they can't understand how dangerous it can be to prowl around the castle at these hours, without the supervision of someone fully versed in the ins and outs of true magic society”. Ron swore he heard a chuckle from the silver ferret. “I'm begging you to come out. I promise that you will only receive one warning and we will accompany you to your common room so that you can rest until tomorrow's class”.

That's not what you've been saying publicly so far, you bloody cow. Always promising magic world perfectly safe thanks to the ministry and your “beloved” Fudge, old hag, he thought, trembling with anger. SHE knows more about the magic world, its traditions and its miseries than you will ever know in your entire fucking life. In an ideal world, you wouldn't even be worthy of breathing the same air that she breathes.  Instinctively, his magic channelled all his anger into his own hand that seemed to sizzle, longing to meet the wand that waited expectantly in his back pocket.

“Very well”, this time Umbridge's voice was definitely loaded with contempt. “I understand that if you are unable to understand the delicate complexities of the magical world and my desire to ensure your safety is because you have not had the proper education in your born-home. Nothing that a proper punishment can't solve, so, you´ll understand your place”.

This did it. Ron took three steps behind leaving its good fifteen feet with the door.

This sadist thinks it's not pureblood who is here and she's going to take advantage of it to make an example of it. His hand finally met his wand that seemed to emit a buzz of satisfaction to his contact. She will be stunned when she sees that the marauder is one of the “twenty-eight sacred". He thought this one with really loathe, like if bitter gall touched his lips at the memory. If I were anyone else I might be able to escape from this by sounding sorry, but being who I am, she's going to take advantage of it to go against both of them and if she doesn't go against Hermione, Draco will. For a moment a smile escaped his lips as he thought of what Hermione would do to Draco if he openly fought against her while remembering the superb punch the ferret had received in third year. But Malfoy will never attack her openly. He would seek a moment of solitude and would be accompanied by his two gorillas and possibly some Slytherin Deatheater apprentice and, God knows! What they would be capable of doing to her.

As his last smile died on his face, his wand was raised in his arm in a duelling position. Ron knew his fate was already decided. He knew that with him expelled, he would no longer be able to protect Harry and Hermione within the walls of Hogwarts, but nothing would stop him from defending them outside or making a last stand inside. When he confronted Umbridge and her henchmen, he would make his argument clear by giving them a hell of a wand, to make them understand that, just in the moment any of them tried to harm any of their friends, there would be no place under the sun where they could hide from him. So that miserable crew on the other side of the door would get the message and refrain from really drastic actions against his two friends.

Being Ron under age, he would not end up in Azkaban, and the fact that this stinking band knew that he would be free to show up at Hogsmeade from time to time would help reinforce the message. That would give Dumbledore and McGonagall time to regain control of the school and protect both of them. The image of a knight being taken by the queen on a gigantic chessboard gave him a crooked smile meanwhile he faced, wand in hand, his fate. Checkmate, pal.

“Alohomora!”

Alohowhat? What in  the h. . .; Ron didn't have time to complete the question that popped into his mind while his frown frowned in shock when he heard the spell on the other side of the door. But, if the door's not locked, why are they. . . ? For the second time, the idea died in his mind as he watched as the doorknob seemed to turn repeatedly in the attempt of someone trying to open the door, apparently in vain.

“ALOHOMORA!” It was heard again from the other side.” What's wrong with the damn door?” Again the voice of Umbridge was heard, this time in an unmistakable tone of irritation, as the doorknob was shaken more and more violently without the door giving way by a single millimetre.

-Get out of the way! This time there was real rage in the voice of the great inquisitor. On the other side of the door, Ron heard her to perform, one after the other, no less than 10 different spells trying to unlock the door and the paroxysmal movement of the doorknob had also given way to the incensed knocking of the door, as if in a primary resource and having failed magic, brute force was being used to force entry. It was then that he realized that his wand seemed to be emitting a dull buzzing sound that made her hand tremble.

“That's enough! I'm sure this is a joke of that brazen poltergeist”. Ron smiled. The toad's voice sounded more like a big walrus's breathing down from too much exercise. “Sure. He must have let out the scream and bewitched the door so that it could not be opened"; she continued, between gasping and panting.

“But professor”, Ron shuddered again at the sound of Malfoy's voice and to realize that his wand was shaking more intensely. “We've known Peeves since the first year, and that's certainly not his voice, nor is this the style of his jokes. He tends to be cruder and coarser by throwing stink bombs or buckets of ice water on the backs of the students. . .” The ferret's peroration was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a slap on the back of his neck particularly hard.

 “Stupid”. Umbridge's voice sounded particularly annoying. “Do you dare to discuss a teacher's judgment? I tell you that all this is the work of that nasty spirit and, if all of you had been properly versed in the magical arts, you would have realized it right away as well”. Ron could not help but have a panting laugh. The toad had just beaten the insufferable presumptuous, frustrated by her inability to open the door and, trying to avoid looking bad in front of her acolytes, she had diverted attention and blame onto the asshole. My word. He would have gladly paid two months' pay for being able to see the ferret's face.

“This only proves the ministry right. The quality of teaching in this place has tragically declined and it is imperative that the ministry take control of it in order to instruct the young wizards and witches in the mastery of their skills. “With me!” It was heard like a whimper and then, the unmistakable tapping of a few steps away.

Ron stood waiting for an invisible trap to fall on him; meanwhile, his wand continued vibrating in his hand, though ever more faintly, until it stopped completely. He remained motionless and almost breathless for a few more minutes, hoping to believe in his good fortune and that he really had escaped from a more than complicated situation. Finally, he decided it was time to take a chance and averted his eyes from the door and consulted the marauder's map. He couldn't believe it! On the map it could clearly read “Ronald Weasley”, but on the other side of the door the map did not reflect the presence of anyone. Even in his surroundings there doesn't seem to be a soul.

Now or never, pal; he said to himself in encouragement and then, he set about turning the doorknob which. As before, it pivoted on its axis smoothly and pulled it, the door to stay locked.

“Shit”, he mumbled, but refrained from further attempts. In a sad irony, it seemed that the same mystery that had saved his freckled arse was keeping him prisoner of the room. “Well", he closed his eyes and as he concentrated he muttered. “Whatever it is, I really appreciate you helping me out, but I'd really like to get out, get to my room and forget about tonight. I swear I've learned the fucking lesson not to wander around the castle after curfew, or at least, not to be such an asshole as to scream in the hallway after curfew”. He looked at the door again and tried to open it, and again this one remained unmoved.

“Bloody hell!” This time the tone of his voice was noticeably louder.  He turned in frustration on himself and looking up at the ceiling dropped himself over the door and, leaned on the back of his head as it tapped repeatedly against the wood in an attempt to alleviate his disappointment.

“Okay! It's all right. If the price I have to pay for escaping the damn pink toad is to spend the night in this room, I'll gladly take it. Tomorrow someone will come, open the door, cast the disillusioning spell on me, sneak out and I'll manage to find a way to justify my. . .

He jumped upright as he opened his eyes wide, realizing that he had no idea where he was! It had all happened so quickly and unexpectedly that all he could remember was walking through the door that was closest to him at the time. Once the surprise was over, he began to inspect the room, hoping to recognize it.

“I should've known better”. The sad whisper escaped his lips as if it were the sigh of a condemned man whose last chance for freedom is slipping away.

The shelves followed one another in countless rows . . . “Well, surely not countless. I'll bet Hermione knows “exactly"; the number of them, as well as the number of every damn book inside each and every one of them"; he moaned.

Still, he had to admit. Empty of students, under the twilight of the moonlight filtering through the large windows, the Hogwarts Library was magnificent. Magnificent and intimidating.

“As always, she is able to see things at first sight, which takes the rest of us years"; he sighed. “No wonder I am not even able to keep up with her thoughts when that adorable head of her gets going”. And that was precisely what was bothering him most at this time and had led him to wander aimlessly through the school corridors. That with all her brilliance, all her knowledge, all her fucking logic, she wouldn't have been able to see everything that was bubbling up inside him. . .

Ron had not been aware at first, but gradually he became aware of the presence of candlelight behind some library shelves. Initially he feared that it might be because of the presence of another person in the library, whether it was a student, a teacher or, at worst, Filch and his mangy cat. So he remained quiet, but since the light seemed to be steady, no noise was heard, and the memory that the marauder's map had shown no one in the vicinity, he ventured quietly behind the bookshelf to find out what it was.

It didn't take him long to discover that it was one of the candlesticks that supplied light to the library users, but what was really curious was that it was the only candlestick that seemed to burn in the whole library. He approached it with the aim of extinguishing the candles when they went out by themselves while at the other end of the shelf the candles of another candleholder began to burn expontaneously.

Having grown up in the magic world, these kinds of situations were no surprise to him. They were fascinating, no doubt, but not at all a complete surprise.

He had long known that in one way or another, every wizard, every witch, had left the magical sight of his existence on the world. He knew many examples of them:

The essences of the four founders who died long ago, in the sorting hat. Those of his twin uncles Gideon and Fabian also killed in the first war against Voldemort, in the house clock. The Marauder’s Map, with the essence of James Potter, and his friends. Even, according to Harry's story, who-you-know-who left part of him in the diary that possessed Ginny in her first year.

With more than a thousand years of existence, it was practically impossible to know how many wizards and witches walked, studied and lived among these old stones, and each one of them left his own mark. Some would leave a barely perceptible trace, but others performed such intense episodes of magic that the traces they left behind, seemed to have a will of their own.

The hat was left with the mission of continuing to sort the students by the time the founders were gone.

The house clock, to know the status of each family member and to be able to come to their aid if necessary.

The map conspired so that the big troublemakers could keep up their mischief at school and, the diary, somehow, tried to bring Voldemort back.

This last thought plunged her spirit back into sadness and melancholy bringing back the thoughts that had made her leaves the safety of the tower of Gryffindor:

Is that really all she thinks of me? Does she really think I don't know what Cho Chang is feeling?

Like answering that question, another group of candles went out to be immediately replaced.

I can't really blame her, can I? I've never been good at expressing myself, let alone how I feel, but then again, how could I? How do you tell the most wonderful woman in the world that you're crazy for her? That you regret terribly to be a clumsy, mindless, worthless lout. Which you know you don't deserve her. That you know that you shouldn't even notice me but that you can't help but love her more than my own family, more than Harry, more than the blood that runs through my veins, more than my life itself and that knowing and feeling all that is eating me up inside. How do you tell her you feel all this and more, ‘only’, because you love her?

Ron feels that dull pain in his chest again. A veil of tears struggles to leave his eyes as he rolls his shirt sleeve over them to prevent his vision from becoming blurred, and it is when he refocuses them that he sees it. The candlestick he approaches is no longer extinguished, but seems to beat as if prompting him to approach it, and as he does so, the booklet seems to slowly separate from the rest of his companions on the shelf, prompting him to pick it up.

When Ron takes it, he feels comforting warmth in his fingers, like if the worn book is meant to convey a feeling of friendship and comfort, like if it is telling him in a mute way that everything will be all right after all. A feeling that brings back memories of the day he got his wand. Not his brother's, but his real wand.

“What do you got for me, buddy?”

There's tenderness in Ron's whisper. Any of those familiar with Hogwarts' worst-kept secret would think that the redhead is pouring out in that act and onto an object so intrinsically linked to the image of his beloved, all the love and all the delicacy that he seems unable to show her as a victim of his own inferiority complex, while unwittingly moving towards Hermione's favourite place in the library.

It's magic.

It's part of the magic that resides in every corner of Hogwarts. It is the magic trace that perhaps a long time ago, someone left to help a heart desperate to find an answer to its silent prayer and, just like it should have been long ago, when the mortified Ronald Weasley opens the book, a magic wind stirs the pages of the book showing him one of them in particular, like the old friend who gives you good advice. That's why Ron reads. He reads with such intensity that his eyes devour the words written centuries ago and as he does so his gaze gets wet. Each line is like a balm on the wounds of his tormented heart while a bright smile appears on his face. Now, Ron knows.

And when he looks up, his heart is not only filled with love for the frizzy-haired know-it-all witch, but with infinite gratitude.

Gratitude for whoever put the book on the shelf at Muggle Studies. Gratitude for the wizard or witch whose essence left such a deep mark on the old magic of the school, that it reacted to his agony and gratitude to the one who wrote the words he has just read. Words that today give him the knowledge of knowing that he is not alone, that he has never been alone. That before him, millions of men and women, wizards and witches, magicians and muggles have experienced the same feelings, confusion and agony as him, with the fortune that some of them have been so daring, so privileged in their intelligence and endowed with the gift as to be able to express them in words, and guided simply by their instinct, Ron look for parchment and quill as he begins to copy furiously. . .

Hermione Granger seemed to be sleepwalking after leaving Professor McGonagall's office. The accumulation of events that had occurred in the last few hours that she had referred, to still seemed to be getting through to her.

Mr. Weasley had been attacked in the Ministry by Voldemort's snake! And he had only escaped death because of the early warning that Harry had given.

When she woke up this morning, she was surprised not to find Harry or any of the Weasleys in the dining room, which had led to an unpleasant feeling on her chest, but what had set off all her alarms was the story from Ron and Harry's roommates. She had immediately rushed to the teachers' table, when a simple gesture from McGonagall had instructed her that this was neither the place nor the time. Something that was confirmed moments later, with the appearance of Professor Umbridge demanding to know the whereabouts of the Weasley brothers.

In her mind, she could recreate the scene as if she had been there. She was about to bet that at this moment, Harry would be oblivious to the fact that he was the one who allowed Mr. Weasley with his warning. What's more, she would bet one of her O.W.L.s marks that at this same moment Harry would be blaming himself for what happened, convinced that Arthur had been attacked simply because he was the father of his best friend and so, he would be ruminating that feeling inside himself without letting anyone penetrate the shell of isolation he would have built around him, preventing anyone from making him see the absurdity of his reasoning.

Along with this feeling, her other concern was to imagine the state of Mr. Weasley and how the rest of the family would be passing the hours.

She could imagine their reactions and the visceral fear they must have felt in their hearts, when they were woken up in the middle of the night to inform them that, their father, was struggling between life and death, the victim of a Voldemort attack.

She imagined Mrs. Weasley tried to appear strong and confident so his family wouldn't break up. To the twins, whose jokes for once could not insulate them from the merciless reality of war. To Ginny in whose mind she'd be spending her ordeal in the Chamber of Secrets, to. . .

“Ron!” The moan escaped from between her lips and her whole mind was focused on him.

Hermione knew of the particular connection between Mr. Weasley and his youngest son. That one that not only covered the physical aspects that he also shared with his brother Bill, but also on other much deeper levels.

She knew that his father, in an effort to raise a progeny that seemed to have been gifted with a stomach that was as voracious as a black hole, had been forced not to devote as much time to it as he would have liked, and so, Ron had been raised basically by his mother, Percy and the twins. . .

"If the way they are used to behaving with him could be called raising," she snorted under her breath as she thought, how much of Ron's insecure and explosive personality was the responsibility of that pair of troublemakers. The point was, when Mr. Weasley was partially relieved of that burden after the emancipation of the two older sons, he had tried to make up for that loss of attention by devoting more of his scarce free time, and had taken him to watch his first quidditch match with the Cannons, from which the redhead's eternal love for the lousy team, emerged.

But Hermione had found many other similarities. Both were brave, though they tried to avoid direct confrontation, noting in common  to evil or any temptation to try to abuse any situation of privilege, nevertheless they were fierce when it came to defending what they understood to be right.

Immersed in her thoughts, her legs led her to her sanctuary, that corner of the library that took her away from the usual hustle and bustle and allowed her to concentrate on her readings and the writing of her complex essays. The same corner whose window overlooked the quidditch pitch, from which, she furtively observed the training sessions of Gryffindor's team or, perhaps it would be better to say, the developments of one of the team's newest members.

As the smile insinuated itself on her face, Hermione could not help but reflect on how extraordinarily complex it was to understand Ronald Weasley.

Ron, sighed to herself.  She really couldn't understand him! There seemed to be two of them and they alternated with each other in an unpredictable way.

Ron was loyal to a fault, but sometimes he seemed a little jealous of Harry's reputation. Most of the time he behaved like an insensitive fool and yet sometimes he surprised her with gestures of infinite tenderness. She could have the funniest talk with him and tell him all the places she planned to travel when she finished school, but it was mentioning Bulgaria and Ron seemed to turn into a manticore.

When he flew over the grounds of The Burrow, he seemed to be in perfect communion with his broom. She had been surprised to discover that sometimes the twins had suddenly thrown some quaffles at him and he would alter his flight to intercept them with an almost feline grace, but it was flying over the school pitch and he becoming into a nervous mess of hands and feet struggling to hold onto his broom, with an unsettling shade of green on his face.

For the most of the people, Ron was what could be defined like a lazy who was always behind in his schoolwork and unable to perform a spell correctly during class, but, the day after she helped him complete his homework or gave him a practical demonstration on it, he seemed to be able to perform it almost perfectly and, not even then!  He seems to have a consistent line of behaviour at this point. Ron didn't seem to have the slightest interest in learning basic glamour spells, how transfiguring a rat into a chalice or making a potion to cure warts, and yet, he was perfectly capable during DA’s training, of transfiguring a cushion of The Room of Requirement into a solid block of solid stone to ward off a spell cast by Harry, while he counter-attacking him by throwing impedimenta spell that caused Harry to retreat ten yards.

And in spite of all that crazy, absurd, unrealistic and incomprehensible double personality she loved him. Oh my God, how she loved him! She couldn't understand it, but it was the truth and she knew it wasn't a young girl's crush, it was something else. She could see his faults and the weaknesses of his personality that he should try to correct, such as insecurity in himself and eternal self-comparison with his brothers and in spite of everything. . . there it was. The blurred sketch of the formidable man he was destined to become just by trying it from the bottom of her heart. A man who would make any woman's heart tremble like, he already did her own.

She was deep in thought about the irritating redhead when she discovered a parchment note carelessly folded in front of the seat she used to occupy in the library.

She opened it out of curiosity, recognizing the sloppy handwriting of the object of her tribulations as she began to read it. . .

"So, what's a teaspoon?"

As they moved along the lines of the writing, her eyes widened meanwhile one of her hands went over her chest in an unconscious attempt to calm the rampant galloping of her heart that seemed to have gone mad with the careless lines of writing.

“...To seem happy, sad, haughty, understated,

emboldened, fugitive, exasperated...”

It seemed that the world had been turned upside down and where once there was a mindless lout with the same sensitivity as a teaspoon, now there was someone who had been able to correctly interpret the verses her mind was slipping on. But that was inconceivable to Ron.

He... he really can't have been able to show me this, she thought as she began to reread thinking that she was being part of some kind of joke or enchantment the twins had left behind. A joke or a spell that should perhaps be called cruel because of all it was doing to feel  to her.

  To be fainthearted, to be bold, possessed, abrasive, tender, open, isolated, spirited, dying, dead, invigorated, loyal, treacherous, venturesome, repressed.

Not to find, without your lover, rest. To seem happy, sad, haughty, understated, emboldened, fugitive, exasperated, satisfied, offended, doubt-obsessed.

To face away from disillusionment, to swallow venom like liqueur, and quell all thoughts of gain, embracing discontent;

to believe a heaven lies within a hell, to give your soul to disillusionment; that’s love, as all who’ve tasted know too well.

 “Ro... Ron!” The exclamation escaped like a whisper from her lips while her legs seemed to waver when she completed the last line. . .

“I do”

Hermione dropped into the chair at the impending failure of her legs to hold her as the crying made its way through her chest to replace her breath with an incoherent set of hiccups and sobs meanwhile  she pressed the parchment  to her chest.

No. Ron Weasley was not the callous wart she had said, nor was the imbecile with the emotional range of a teaspoon. No, Ron was just a normal teenager in constant confusion because of the tide of hormones circulating in his blood, the emotional overload of facing feelings whose intensity she herself knew very well, the recognition of the darkness that was approaching, and right now, the boy who feared for his father's life and who would put under a thick shell all the pain and all the terror that his heart harboured for, with  an apparent indifference to avoid further anguish to his family during these times of tribulation, just as he did in the second year, when he went into the forbidden forest with Harry.

But, above all, Ron was her friend. The friend who needed her now more than ever, and as she began to write a letter to her parents explaining why she couldn't stay with them for the Christmas break, she couldn't help but notice the tremor in her hand and how her knuckles went white clutching her quill when one simple question seeped into her head:

Who- the hell- had taught Ronald Bilius Weasley what love was?

 Notes: My infinite and sincere thanks and affection to @headcanonsandmore. Without their help, it would have been impossible for me to write this text in understandable English.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25219924/chapters/61129561

I would like to say, the inspiration for this work came after having a delicious chat with the author of the fic "Books" by @fightfortherightsofhouseelves ( You can find her work here in AO3).

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14771213

Obviously, the reference poem is not mine. I wish! The author is the Spanish poet Lope de Vega. Possibly the quill who has best expressed the feelings of love through its verses in universal poetry. The English translation was done by David Rosenthal.

[thevoicesunspoken-blog]

Saving A Dumb Blond Chapter 1

A Naruto Reincarnated SI Fanfiction.

(SIX)

The only thing that makes her feel anymore, are her dreams (memories). An escape to a different world where she isn’t anyone’s toy. At first she is resentful towards the woman she dreams of (her past self). One who didn’t know the pain of almost starving to death, only to have to fight against others for the privilege of eating. When she knows only the life of surviving and fighting, the real torture begins.

    There's an itch under her skin, she’s always known it was there. Now it’s a burning fire as the man with eyes like gold (snake he’s a snake) constantly pokes and prods at it, until she pushes back. The World lights up in a blinding array of colors and feelings, enough to make her pass out from it all. When she awakes, it’s from a dream that made her cry with emotions not her own. The girl of her dreams had her family broken by one she loved.

    She forgets the dream (memory) as survival once again becomes all too important. By managing to pick up words and learn, she knows she is six out of eight other children. That is what they are, isn’t it? She knows the word, knows the meaning, but it somehow doesn’t feel right. The word she remembers presents an image of innocence she knows she cannot claim as her own. They call her Roku and command her to be the last one alive.

    All eight children (so young really), an uneven mixture of males and females, are thrown into a cement pit with several inches of brown, murky water. Roku refuses to think on it, but her traitorous mind whispers that the coppery smell burned in her nose is not a coincidence (blood of those before). She takes up a defensive position, and moves away from the pile of animals (babies forced to kill) biting and clawing each other on the hope that they may be the one to live.

    Until there is only one left, the biggest and strongest of the eight (no older than five). He was the one dubbed Shi, and Roku waits until he turns to her. Some deep part of her screams, that if she is truly going to go through with this, his face must be scarred into her mind until she can make it right in the after life. There's no savage look like she was expecting, in fact, there's just nothing behind his dark brown eyes. As if he had died long before now.

    His fist lands against her right cheek and she becomes truly acquainted with the vile liquid her bare feet were soaking in. Maybe he would have had a chance against her, if that had been the first hit she had received in this world, it would have stunned her. As it is, he seals his fate when he slams his bigger body onto her smaller one, and snakes his hands around her throat. Roku ignores the nausea and pain, (she will earn the pain shortly) she had been waiting for the perfect moment.

    Dead inside or not, every man (boy he was just a boy) reacts to a knee to the groin in the same way. The boy was no different. His hands lost their grip as he automatically went to hold the pain, and she moved. The woman in her dreams, had known many different ways to take a life, but lacked the experience. Using the knowledge she had, Roku wrapped her legs around his face, keeping her hands free to hold his (smothering sheds no blood). After he stopped struggling, she still held tight (unconsciousness comes before the end). Death would be the only kindness she would be able to give in this world.

    Her reward for being the last alive, was to be given to a man with one eye. He commanded absolute loyalty from her, (he can’t be trusted) and she was willing to obey. His mark (seal) underneath her tongue burned her constantly, but at least the itch under her skin (chakra) began to feel natural. As natural as the blade she was given, along with a set of clothes that tickled her memory. She was to be his tool (pawn), and as such, he needed to sharpen her.

   

Part of her training was to be put up against more and more opponents (only kids), for each one she failed to best, she was punished (abused). Roku collected several scars, but at least the one eyed man was making her stronger. Fiercer (angrier). She had no idea how long she had been in the dark tunnels, before he sent her off to take a life. No words were given, just a picture with a name on it. That’s how it went. A picture, a name, then blood on her hands.

Roku had no sense of time, no idea how old she was (twenty-one). How long she had survived the world so far. Until one of her targets (victims) had a mirror in their room. Because her body was still so small (it was a mercy to die in your sleep), she preferred to end them while they slept. Movement caught her eye and she found herself locking eyes with a ghost (she’s just a little girl), deep blue eyes and hair like the night.

Something was happening to her mind, she was fighting something from the inside (past memories). Something just under the surface of her own mind (her real self). It was suffocating, there were words she knew, but she’d never learned them (not in this life). She knew she was panicking, but she’d never done so before. Roku (not Roku, never Roku) found herself struggling to keep her own mind.

In a daze, she wandered into a forest. It was in no way recognizable, but somehow, it made her feel peaceful. Until she started hyperventilating as flashes of memories not her own stated playing in her mind. The taste registered first, before she belatedly realized she had vomited on the base of a tree. (That always happened after her panic attacks). Roku had never had a panic attack before.

She felt them on the edge of her senses, before spotting the young boy and the deer. The kunai slipped into her hand before she consciously decided to grab it. (Just a boy, not a threat). Roku put it back only a second after she pulled it out of her back pouch. He was confused, she could tell by the way his spirit flickered (chakra sensing emotions). Then, he actually noticed her and she could see his surprise on both his face and his aura (chakra).

He had to have been around the same age as her (so painfully young), but his eyes had something in them she’d never seen before. (Innocence.) It was so pure and untouched by the darkness that surrounded and filled her. The late afternoon sun made his brown eyes practically shine with life. Time froze as both children regarded each other, as soon as his lips started to lift into a sleepy smile (she didn’t deserve to be seen as a child), she left.

Fear was coursing through her as she ran out of the forest she had stumbled into. It took a moment to realize she wasn’t afraid for herself, but for the boy. (She was too far into the darkness to be near something so pure.) Pureness stood no chance in this World. Roku (NOT Roku NEVER Roku) knew this. (Kindness is stronger than terror) Terror made this world, (No) she had to (change can happen) stay away from innocents. That’s why she ran away from the strange (familiar) boy (he was so familiar) with shining eyes (the hair, the eyes, the deer he walked with).

“Shikamaru.” His name left her lips without thought and suddenly she was falling to the ground. The pain didn’t register in her mind as she stared up through the trees she had been running on and into the sky. How did she know the boys name? Why was she so sure his name was Shikamaru Nara. “This world shouldn’t exist.” Her voice sounded wrong. It was too young, too empty. She slowly flexed her body, part by part, and it was too small. Everything was wrong.

After laying on the ground until the sun disappeared, thinking of nothing in particular, she felt the seal on the bottom of her tongue burn. A call to return to her master. The longer she prolonged returning, the more painful the seal would become. Danzo Shimura was waiting for her, she had to shut down thoughts of killing him. “Master.” Her mind wasn’t fully reconnected, but by the second she was remembering things. Pieces of the future she should not have.

“Roku, you were late returning to me.” His voice contained a false note of concern, as if he cared if she struggled. But Roku was not her name and she knew him for the liar he was. No fake sincerity would sway her. “I apologise Master. I completed my mission without fail. As far as anyone will be able to tell, the target was murdered for his riches.” Danzo hummed at her, a deep gravelly noise that made her stomach tighten.

“What delayed you.” Her tongue burned, a careful reminder that she was unable to lie to him. “I was seen by a boy and a stag in an unfamiliar forest.” She waited to see if he wanted more, or if this was all he wanted. He waved his hand for her to continue. “The forest had a chakra like I had never experienced before, Master. It was alive, and didn’t want me to leave.” That was mostly the truth.

The Nara forest did indeed have it’s own chakra, that had felt alive and as if it wanted her to stay. But it had been easily ignored as she had laid on the soft moss flooring. She didn’t dare meet his eyes, but she could hear the smile in his voice. “Yes, you would be wise to avoid the forest from now on, Roku.” There was no dismissal in his voice, so kneeling on the cold stone is where she stayed. Once, he had her kneel there until she was sure she would pass out, only then did Danzo allow her to leave.

She was conditioned to keep her mind empty and only focus on the next order he would give her, but she couldn’t help but think about how she had killed for this man. The blood of seven people were on her hands because he had commanded it. Four were ninjas whose crime she didn’t know, and three were merchants who had been Danzo’s spies, but he feared betrayal.

While she had done all of the merchants in their sleep, two of them had looked like they had died naturally in their sleep, and the last one looked like a robbery. Of course, a shinobi with a healthy dose of suspicion would look closer and see foul play. She knew the Military Police wouldn’t look that closely at a civilian death, so she was perfectly in the clear. She wished she wasn’t.

Danzo was still having some kind of power play, so to punish herself further, to keep the fire burning, she re-lived the deaths of the shinobi as well. One had been a novice poison user, so it was easy to nick him without him knowing, of course the idiot hadn’t carried an antidote on him. The most deadly mistake a poison user could make, and she had taken full advantage.

The other two didn’t make her as guilty as they should have, but still, she would own their deaths. One day, if there was a God, she will reap what she has sown. Death would come for her in the most painful manner imaginable, then perhaps she would have suffered enough to be able to glimpse her lost loved ones beyond the veil of life.

He struck while she was reminiscing, a hard blow dealt with the cane he carried but had no real need for. It took all the training she had survived, not to react. To allow him his anger and disappointment. Each blow was exactly the same as the one before, controlled and precise. Afterwards, when she was bloody and barely conscious, he stopped. Her reaction to pain was anger, the lethal kind. A calm, controlled rage. “Don’t be late again, Roku.”

As soon as he left, hands came to lift her away to be healed. It hurt all over, and she was certain a rib or two were broken. Danzo didn’t punish her, just to teach her a lesson, the lesson was for all of his little shadows. The other children he was training to die for him and the Hidden Leaf. As she fought to stay awake, a stray image floated into her head. A pale boy who was a painter. 

So, as she drifted into unconsciousness, she decided Danzo needed to die sooner rather than later. When she woke up, it was to the realization that she would need to heal before doing anything. The medic, not the one with gray hair and glasses she was dreading to meet, but a woman with pale hair, confirmed that two of her ribs were broken. With chakra, she would be able to help the healing process, however, if most of the healing wasn’t done naturally, her ribs would forever be weaker than the rest.

Every breath hurt, but she wasn’t given any pain medication, not that she asked for any. Her only respite from the crackling pain, was unconsciousness. As her mind drifted to escape the pain of the real world, she saw more of what her soul had previously gone through. Memories revolving around a life she can no longer claim. Images of the boy she saw in the woods make it obvious she had knowledge of the world she’s now in. She's given a week to recover, after all, a broken tool is useless. Still, when she escapes from the pain into unconsciousness, her soul slowly shifts into place in this new body. 

[oftcnas-blog]

kylie jenner . twenty one . she and her ━━ welcome tanja ‘tana’ brooks ! our sources say you’re a 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝒾𝒸 𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝓈𝓉 and 𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓊𝓇 with a net worth of 26.7m. now that you’ve signed the contract to 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘵𝘦 , fans are thrilled to finally watch you on television and are hoping to see more of your 𝔦𝔪𝔭𝔲𝔩𝔰𝔦𝔳𝔢 yet 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔢 traits on the show . but please leave your glossy lips, singing loudly in the back of uber’s, and neck kisses at los angeles, california because now , you’re dead broke. vc: ariana grande

asdf basically theres me, and then theres trash and honestly??? the difference is not big at all.. in shorter terms? me and introductions literally do not clash well together at all .. so i do want to apologize for the potential sucky ness ?? and rambles that are bound to happen asdf. on that note, im gigi (or gi) and if you want to know a little more about my baby tana just keep on reading !! 

trigger warning !! gang mention ! drug mention !! 

                                          the synthesis …

◜ scribbles on empty pages that equal pain, anger, and struggle. words that had only been meant for one, carved themselves into the brunettes skin the moment air filled her lungs for the first time .. screams into the air, she formed into a fear that driven those around her. a fear that was so powerful, it made even a king cower. her king. the daughter of a man who ran an empire, was vowed to be protected along with her six other siblings who stood beside her. but the life of crime and danger always tugged at their skin, forced their claws into their flesh. it was an eat or being eaten lifestyle, and without choice tanja brooks was thrown in the middle of it. it was her bloodline. and while her mother wanted to protect and shelter, her father wanted to toughen her skin and wrap the chains of their gang around her feet. she was forced into situations by loyalty, by the love she had for of those around her, by the drive that was forced within her. but, this lifestyle was not always for her. the constant fear, the murder, the dirty hands, the loss, the pain, and the anger, it sat on her shoulders like boulders. the pain and anger that latched on to her and her siblings wrist troubled their mother, at first it was an itch, and then it was a rash, and then it ate at her flesh. she was barely skin and mostly bone when she decided to take her twin boys, tanja, and her four other children out of their fathers arms, lifestyle, and curse.

             the important extras …

her oldest twin brother, has started to get back into the lifestyle their mother has done everything in her power to keep them out of- yet despite the knowledge and knowing for a fact that its not something he should be in she has kept his secret out of loyalty and has lied countless of times to not only his mother for him, but her other siblings as well as his friends and others in his life.

she once filled out a police report on her father, exposing everything he has and everything he has done. of course, it came from a place of anger and hurt, and a way to get back at him for not being in her the way she wants him to be. she never actually filed this report considering it could have gotten her into a lot of trouble with her father and his gang, not just trouble but it could’ve put her on her death bed.

despite the anger and hatred she has for her father, he use to send her along with his other kids money each month; while one of the twins refuses to touch it and her mother forbids it… she and her other siblings have used it to benefit them educational wise, as in paying for college and for their own pleasure such as brand items, cars, spring break trips to bora bora, and whatever else they can get their hands on.

at five years old, tanja had actually witnessed a murder (the reason her mother removed them from her fathers live) and to this day it still lives on in her head. so bad, that she use to have night terrors (and occasionally still does ).

family extras ...

socialites had always been a title the brook family carried, with her father hiding his dirty money behind an luxurious company ? they had always been just that one family everyone tends to talk about here and there for no other reason but because of their wealth and business strategy. 

when tana’s mother took the kids and left, the media framed it as an affair and the family has kind of just ran with that? never denying nor confirming the statement. 

her mom got remarried a few years after to an actor? and he kind of brought more attention to the brooks and their name? 

the kids went from being mob boss babies to? basically accepting their new lifestyle in not just money but fame too.. 

when tana was around sixteen, her father had got arrested on too many charges to count bringing out his gang involvement and other dirty things he has been doing . which at the time was a nightmare, but it brought the brooks family more then they could imagine. 

people wanted to know more? to see more? to learn more? and so, her mom wrote a book and with that interest the brooks were offered an reality show. 

for the last sixish years, the family has been almost like the kardashians? actually just like the kardashians minus the too problematic part.. 

she has six full siblings, two half, and one step and she honestly adores them all with everything in her.

the brook children in their own are all successful? from lawyers, to doctors, to actors/actresses, music artists, designers, and even business men and women.. 

shes also super close with her step father? like she kind of looks to him as her dad and is so grateful for him and all the love he has given her and her mom and sisters and brothers.

career extras ...

she started her following super early on social media? and kind of had her own little fanbase from just being on the show.

shes been singing ever since she was a little girl, but took it serious around the age of seventeen. 

her music career took off pretty quickly? like kind of a big star overnight type situation.

her music company kicked off when she was nineteen, and shes been expanding it ever since.

shes truly passionate about both of her careers, and is just super grateful she has the opportunity to do the two things she loves the most ! 

more extras ( am i ever going to shut up?? )

her name is tanja, but considering the media always got it wrong?? and most assumed it was tana she dropped the j for more of a stage name? 

of course, a lot of her family still calls her by her actual name! but even her close friends call her tana! 

    the personality …

known as the lion hearted, tana is light and love combined with a sense of playfulness and ebullient that you can somehow never get out of your head . she is a big hearted beauty, who loves with her all and as her sibling would tell her loves too hard. good intentions flow throughout her body, and despite her claiming up and down that she doesn’t need anybody she is truly someone who attaches themselves to you. she is always teasing somebody, and has a sense of adventure that surely comes from her upbringing. she feels most at home surrounding by friends, and family. she is someone who will drag you out of bed in the middle of the night for a late night drive with good music, and the first person who’ll jump in front of a bullet for you. she feels deeply, but does not always know how to deal with those feelings. she can be jealous, stubborn, and trust issues are rooted so deeply into her she doesnt know where they begin and she ends. she loves laughing, and feeling alive? which she will do anything to achieve. its like her own little high and shes an addict. an adrenaline junkie her father would call her. she’s affectionate with those she loves, and of course when shes drunk. she craves meaningful connections with those around her, and falls into a darkness when she feels as if shes disconnected. her father left this sense of needing to be needed and wanted within her, but shes dealing.

the connections …

platonic soulmates ! that one person who kind of just completes tana? they understand and connect in a way that even for them its hard to understand. best friends is an understatement. 

best friends ! two other people shes close as can be with. they are truly her number ones, the ill take a bullet for you kind of friendship. 

a girl group ! just a group of girls, tana is always seen with! could also be her best friends ! i just want something cute, close friendship, trouble and good memories. plus all the three way, even four way threads we can do would be magic. 

cousins ! from either her mom side and/or dad side. this could even be a cousin from her step dad side, so step cousins? either way id love all type of relationships. almost like siblings, cant stand one another, you name it, 

family friends ! someone who has known her for as long as she can remember ! they knew all about her father and everything that came with it.. 

childhood friends ! this could be neighbors she grew up playing with or even that one friend she went to elementary/middle/high school with.

the ex lover ! im such an angst kind of person so this will definitely be juicy.. they’ll definitely be her biggest muse.

on and off relationship ! a toxic kind of relationship, someone she truly loves with everything in her but it just never works the way they want it to. 

 musical duo ! someone who just? when they are together its magic. they write together, sing together, collab together, encourage one another and just ! are those people you see and know its going to be a bop. 

friends with benefits ! mutual or one sided . they could be using her, she could be using them. 

one sided friendships and relationships ! 

publicity friendships and relationships !

you can find more wanted connections in this tag !!

[lilcutieana]

Summer Love 2 (Kim Taehyung)

One || Two || Three ( FINALE)  

Pairing: Mermaid! Taehyung x Reader

Words: 5.3K

Warning: Slight angst

Genre: Mermaid AU

Synapse: Taehyung is now a human who used to be a mermaid not long before. From food, lifestyle, clothing to flora and fauna; everything is new and fascinating to him. But adjusting to human life isn’t.              

     ~Masterlist ~ One || Two || Three ( FINALE) || One shot Masterlist

                           ═══════ ⋆★⋆ ════════

It was almost sunset again. With summer close to its end; the breeze was colder than before, a good excuse to hide blushing cheeks and blaming the weather for it. Even the sand wasn’t as hot, neither was the ocean as warm as dark clouds gathered around the cove, breeze picking up and swaying the coconut trees around. The leaves bent at an odd angle to the right, painted in shades of vermilion and pink.

Taehyung watched fascinated how the plants that grew above water looked so different, and far less vibrant than the ones swaying in the water currents a hundred feet below. Not that he went back to the ocean again ever since he sprouted a pair of feet.

Somehow, the ocean scared him. It felt like he was being rejected by his very home. He had no qualms about bathing in freshwater, or drinking it either. In fact, he seemed to be always thirsty, ravenously so. Even his skin tended to become dry and flaky if not hydrated often enough.

So busy he was, watching around himself, capturing the vibrant shades of sunset that never ceased to amaze him as it cast everything in the same shade as the sky, that he lost his balance with his head gazing up at the clouds and fell headfirst onto the sand with his two mismatched feet.

"Taehyung!" A shrill scream of his name and a pair of feet came bounding over the white sand. Turning over, he flopped down and looked up at the sky, the clouds forming various shapes-- some familiar, some not, soon replaced by a worried face he had been now seeing for about one moon cycle.

A month.

It had been exactly a month, as she had claimed last night, feasting on roasted clam shells sprinkled with salt and lime sitting in front of the little bonfire they'd built on the cove. He was terrified of the fire. The way it engulfed everything and it was beautiful too, quite horrifically so.

It was warm. A warmth he needed and craved after being out of the ocean after for so long and a lustful need to drink the very same water he'd only breathed for all his life and gorge himself back inside it as his skin felt alien to even himself. Dry, hairy and itchy instead of the soft, smooth and slimy skin he had before, covered in scales at his lower half and gills to his throat.

It was all puzzling to him. How everything he knew and was used to, had now been suddenly taken away from him. But he felt it in his heart, he just knew it-- if he ever wanted to find the fate of his parents', know what transpired that day -- he'd have to understand himself first.

"Wow, that's some Rudolf's nose you're sporting," Y/N snorted, her eyes reflecting the oranges and pinks of the sunset, her russet brown hair now glowing much like the clouds above. She looked so unreal, in the faint glow, that it took more than a couple moments to gather his thoughts.

"Who's Rudolph?" He asked sitting up, rubbing away the sting on his nose and forgetting all about his scraped knees. He'd deal with them later, he had been falling on his feet a lot. Feet he didn't have a month prior. Walking was a task, and so was sitting, or standing even. It was always awkward while deciding which appendage went where. Which foot to rest his weight on, and which to keep active.

"It’s a reindeer. He had a red nose." She smiled, recalling the carol she had recited quite often every Christmas. It was her favorite until things went downhill. Something she didn’t want to be reminded of, ever again.

"A reindeer?" He asked, his head tilted in child-like curiosity, lips being worried underneath sharp teeth. Despite turning human, he still retained some of his marine features. And then his beautiful turquoise eyes lit up as if he had solved a rubrics cube.

"Santa's reindeer! I heard about those tales." Nodding to himself, he bit lip harder, trying to stop his smile from growing any further and failing to do so when his eyes met mine, a light shade of pink flushed the apples of his cheek and his ears an adorable pink.

Realizing the compromising position she was in, Y/N jumped back, straightening her white top and averting her eyes to his blistered feet. He had been walking everywhere without any slippers, something about losing his balance more if he wore extra things on his feet. He preferred going natural, bare feet, still trying his best to get used to having human legs.

It took him about a week to even stand on his own feet without support. The first day they woke up together, the first sunrise, wasn’t all that amazing finding that he was human again.

As the Sun reached higher into the sky, he felt his skin get drier and the itch unbearable. Scratching his dull pale skin that once shimmered under the light, he breathed heavily, gulping, eyes wide and jaw slack. He felt... Different. Unnatural. His throat raw and parched, even his teeth felt weird as he ran his heavy and dry tongue across his mouth. Not as sharp as before but sharp still. 

"Tae, look at me." Cupping his cheeks, she made him face her. His unfocused eyes stared back blankly. "What's wrong?" 

"Water". Even speaking one word hurt his throat and he bent down as violent coughs shook his body. He wondered if his human had cursed him to eternal suffering if this was his demise. If this was his parents' demise. 

But soon the thought was forgotten as soft hands soothed his back, rubbing it to take away the sting of his raw throat, and now, newly formed lungs. Or maybe they were always there, waiting to be used. He did breathe out of water before. 

The itching and tingling were back again, with more vengeance this time. Clawing at his back, he breathed a sigh of relief as the itch was momentarily relieved only to yelp as he drew blood and it smelled the same, yet was thicker, darker and warmer when he brought his fingers in front of his eyes. 

Sniffing at the blood, he confirmed not much had changed, except he was drying inside out. Scared, and desperate he looked at his human seated right beside him as she shared an equally horrified and guilty look in her eyes and then she scrambled forwards. 

"There's no water. Let me help you into the sea." Tugging onto his slippery hands, she helped him onto his feet and as his body tilted forward, she held onto his abs trying her best to support his weight instead of gawking at his naked half.  

Breathing heavily, he stood by the edge of the boat, looking down at the ocean below that made the boat sway and his eyes widened. Stepping back with a jerk, he bumped into her and together they fell down onto the deck with a groan. He felt his blood run cold and his skin breaks out a sweat. Weird. Humans....were weird. 

Bringing his hands right in the front of his eyes and shielding them from the harsh Sun; he sobbed, his shoulders shaking along with his chest. 

"It doesn't want me back... It’s scary. I don't have what it takes to survive in there anymore." 

"How else?" Looking around, she tried finding something. Something... To hold water. She soon spotted a bucket and ran towards it, almost falling on her way over. "I knew I'd kept it somewhere after cleaning all day." 

Picking it up, she sprinted to the edge of the boat and bent as far as she could with the bucket in hand. Filling it up halfway with water, she walked the rest of the way back to him. "Here, try drinking."

When he didn't raise his head, like she had expected him to; she heaved a sigh and poured a little water over his flaking red skin. Hoping against all odds, it soothed his skin. He belonged to the ocean, surely that was the kind of water he needed. 

A scream of agony shook her to the core. He looked up at her in betrayal and pain, his eyes watering, her figure looked like a fogged up shadow, yet, he glared at her as if she had done the worst crime humanely possible. 

His eyes then lost its turquoise sheen and turned black his back straightening and he opened his mouth once again, much wider this time and wailed. His voice was shrill, hopeless and painful. It made her ears hurt, to the point she was absolutely certain they would bleed. But it was her heart that hurt more. She had truly gone and taken away everything from the lad. If only she didn't ask him to stay.

“Are you really sure?” She asked him after a moment. A moment too long where he had relived the reason he was absolutely sure he didn’t ever want anything to do with the ocean.

Regarding him, she noticed how his back stiffened and straightened at her question. It wasn’t much, really, but she knew how terrifying the ocean must be to him now that he didn’t have his fins, tail or gills.

And what he did have, didn’t cooperate with him most of the time. She had front row tickets to him learning to walk and talk like a human.

Would he truly ever be able to live like one? She doubted the notion. He could only pretend to blend in with a species he wasn’t a part of. But he could never truly be happy.

“I’m sure. I want to be with you, not alone, in the vast expanse.” He said with such conviction, you’d think he was only declaring his love for a certain flavor of ice cream and not his life’s one of the biggest decisions. Actually, technically, even choosing ice cream flavors is hard. You can never pick favorites with just one flavor. There’s just way too many good ones to try.

She sighed, her hands fisted by her side, hidden away from his line of sight, “Taehyung.” She breathed out, “As sweet as the thought is, just try, I’ll save you if anything goes wrong.”

“But why?” He whispered, tired of the same conversation, “Why do you keep pushing me away?”

Of all things he would retort with, she hadn’t expected him to ask her that. Over the month they had known each other, it wasn’t just his clumsy self she saw. She saw him grow from a person who hated humans to someone who sympathized with them. Though, he still was very much annoyed.

She had a certain fondness for him too. He was like a child, full of wonder and enthusiasm. But she never thought he was insecure. Sure, he lived alone most of his life, had his parents taken away from him without a confirmation of what exactly happened to them. She wouldn’t be surprised if it left behind a scar that would never heal.

But he had to face the ocean once again. It was his home, his life. She couldn’t bear to take it away from him. Even if she liked his company, even if she loved when he smiled, his presence made her life a million times better.

But she had to make sure, just this once, if he was completely done with the ocean, or if it was just him being scared. Where did this stem from? Of course, it wasn’t just her being paranoid.

He was a professional when it came to white lies. Anything he didn’t like, he would say mermen are allergic to it, or that it would be poisonous. He even went as far as claiming a certain height would kill him as he belonged deep into the ocean.

But, he still loved grilled cheese despite claiming it was poison; climbed to the peak of the hills near the ocean, despite claiming it would kill him; and, yes, the classic, he ate all the greens despite saying he was allergic to them. Truly, he was a child who came up with ridiculous notions just to avoid trying new things.

Yet… she had a doubt. What if, it wasn’t the same this time? She still had to try. At least, walking on seawater if nothing more. She couldn’t just give up halfway.

“Because I see your pain”, she expressed, coming closer to him on her knees and held onto his trembling hands, “every day, you’re hiding those tears away from me.”

Tracing his palm, she flipped it to the other side and brought it closer to her mouth, kissing his wrist. “I see your faded scars, I see how much you hate failing, I see it all.”

“Please.” She whispered. Hoping against all odds he wouldn’t be stubborn anymore. She would be by his side, through it all.

Sighing, he closed his eyes, feeling her lips on his skin, reveling in it and then snatched his hand away as soon as he felt a stirring, somewhere, that wasn’t his heart.

Of all things human he had got used to, he still couldn’t quite bring himself to adjust to having genitals that worked completely differently.

Mermen, well, they just had to spray their semen on the eggs, and their appendages never really worked any differently at odd times of the day. The human body truly was a piece of work. Without him even allowing it to, it was aroused and sought a mate. Not just that, sometimes, he really had to wonder-- what did he see? What did he touch? What’s going on down there?

It was endless guessing and apparently, it was rude to be hard. The many times he had to hide, he had lost count of that already.

Crossing his legs, he shied away from her touch, earning an odd look from her. Biting his lips, he contemplated, it wasn’t that he was scared of the ocean, he was terrified. The first day she had poured salt water on him, it stung like hell and he felt his clawed marks fade away instantly. There was something about the water and himself, something magical, he couldn’t quite understand and he was scared he’d fade away like his scar if he jumped into the water.

What if he turned to foam like he was meant to? As the only living child of his parents, he couldn’t afford to die so easily. His parents’ only wish was for him to live healthy and happy. And if that was beside a human, pretending to be a human, he didn’t see any fault with it. He was happy.

Sure, he missed his parents, he missed swimming in the depths of the ocean, but he had his curiosity about humans sated, he had found someone he could trust, he had found himself a home. With her, by her side. It was okay if he couldn’t go for a swim, as long as he stayed with her. The freshwater pools would do, just like this morning when he went swimming in one.

“Fine”, he stretched his arms above his head; twisting the kinks on his neck, once to the left, then to the right; and smiled satisfied as it cracked loudly. “Let’s go for a swim at four in the morning. Before the fishermen come to crowd the ocean”

Jumping up in glee, she tackled him in a hug. Squeezing his lithe body to herself, she breathed in his soft scent of the ocean. Closing her eyes, she listened to his heartbeat, trying her best to match her breathing to its rhythm as the last rays of the Sun, bathed them in a faint lavender glow.

“If I die, it’s on you,” Taehyung whispered, holding onto her frail body tighter against his own. If he could, he’d fuse their bodies together. He enjoyed her warmth, her cheerfulness, her optimism and most of all—her soul. He just wanted to be close to her at all times. Human or not, she was just perfect, in every which way to him.

Stiffening, she bit her lips, contemplating her next words. He could have been joking, of course, he could, but the tone of his voice didn’t have the usual brusqueness to it. It was rather soft, like silk, and she wasn’t sure if it was his nervousness or true feelings.

If only she could read minds! What she wouldn’t give to have that power right about now. But such whimsical wishes were dangerous. No. She’s happy just as she is, she should really stop making wishes out of the blue.

One such wish lead to Taehyung lose his own identity. And it was nothing but her own fault. Her own greed. Her own loneliness.

“Sure. Just help me plan how to hide your body first” She whispered and looked up from his chest to meet his unamused eyes. Her eyes were twinkling like the first few stars in the sky. Bright and beautiful. Caressing her cheek, he felt it again.

The stirring in his heart. He wanted her, he needed her. But he couldn’t quite describe this need he had to hold her in his arms. The need to make her his own. While he knew his kind never held such profound feelings for the other. They chose their mates for breeding sure, they even chose mates to spend their lives with, but nothing was permanent.

Yet, when it came to her…

He wanted so much more than to share idle talk about everyday things. So much more than to sleep next to her. So much more…. Then just to hold her in his arms. She was just where he wanted her, it wasn’t enough, and he wanted more. So much more.

She waited for him to either get her joke or be offended, but instead, she was met with deafening silence. If it weren’t for the seagulls or the ocean roaring behind him, she’d have gone mad being scrutinized under his watchful gaze. He was still as if he were made of stone, yet his body was warm, his skin soft and his breath on her forehead warm, inviting.

His lips looked so pink and soft, she licked her own, her breath picking up when his gaze dropped to her own lips, gaze darkening and jaw ticking. He was controlling himself, she could tell from the bruising grip he held her in. But for what?

“Taehyung?” She whispered, hoping to sound confident, and felt betrayed by her own vocal chords when her voice broke halfway, making her sound far more high pitched than she’d intended and a beautiful full blown smile bloomed in his lips.

Even though the spell was broken, they were both relieved it didn’t escalate, yet frustrating for the very same reason. They’d not only become close and fond of each other but were now skirting the dangerous waters of lust and want for the forbidden.

“Let’s just get some food, Y/N”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅• 

“Ready?” Her voice asked behind me, and I wish I could assure her. It wasn’t that I didn’t lie, I just didn’t want to now, not when my life really was at risk, not when I wasn’t sure of the unknown.

“I’m so not ready right now”, I said, my voice quivering and was shocked to hear the tinkling sound of her laughter that sounded like the wind chimes in every quaint little bistro we visited along the shore.

I couldn’t even blame her, I sounded ridiculous even to myself. I had nobody but myself to blame when it came to getting myself into sticky situations.

“It’s okay, Taehyung.” She rested a hand on my shoulder, her hand too cold to the touch, but I bared with it. She only wanted to comfort me. “I figured you’d never be ready for it”

Looking down at the water, I gulped once again. It had been about a hot minute since we stood here hidden away from civilization on her boat in a little cove among the huge volcanic rocks. The sky was at its darkest, not even a single star could be seen, and so was the ocean.

I knew from experience, no monsters lurked there. I could probably swim the expanse of it blindfolded —it was really, really close to the colorful coral reefs where I spent my childhood in.

It was then I realized where my fear stemmed from. I wasn’t scared of the ocean, or of dying either. I was scared of not even leaving behind a mark that showed I was here, I was alive. Something that proved my existence. I was scared of never having accomplished a story to tell of my own. I hadn’t achieved absolutely anything. Heck, I didn’t even know what happened to my parents fifteen odd years back.

But, right now, by her side, I decided I didn’t need it. Not at the cost of my misery, and certainly not at the cost of my unhappiness. I don’t think that’s what my parents would have wanted for me. To live like a human on land, trying to find them and disregard me completely. I was a fool to think that was what I was meant to do.

“Y/N…” I turned to her, taking her hand in mine. “If I don’t do the dolphin jump within minutes of drowning, know that I’ve turned to sea foam. That’s our fate.”

Gulping, she looked down at our joined hands. Slowly tracing the raised veins on my hands. As I felt her hands tremble inside my own, Hands of mine, that weren't quite the same as before. I pulled her close by her soft, supple hands and held onto her.

If I died, I hoped she found someone who’d be worthy of her love, care and attention. If not, I’d make sure she’s mine. I loved her.

There.

I admit it. I loved her. I loved the person she was. Selfless, patient and amusing. She was just everything I’d ever needed in a mate. I didn’t care anymore, whatever species I’d be, I’d spend my life loving her, protecting her and doing whatever it takes to make her happy, by my side.

But I wouldn’t tell her that just yet. I need to be sure what I am and know how to be with her. I need to find myself first before I can love her. Be someone she can lean on.

“You’ll be back, Taehyung.” She sniffed on my chest, holding me tighter by the waist. “I just know it.”

Letting go of her, I faced dark water once again. Taking a deep breath, I clenched my fists and wiggled my toes, so far, every part of my body was still working just fine. Without looking behind me, I closed my eyes and jumped. The couple of moments when I was suspended in air, I felt like I was flying. The wind was still, and it felt like I sliced through it straight into the water below.

Hitting the surface hurt, it wasn't soft, and I knew that. I was familiar with that. And yet, I underestimated the feeling of splashing on water. It was surprisingly not cold at all, it wasn't warm either. It was just the right temperature and I loved it.

It was as if I was in a desert and had suddenly found an oasis. The thirst I had experienced for over a month had finally been quenched. My parched throat felt moist once again, I could breathe easier and closing my eyes, I let the feeling wash over me.

I was home.

Wiping my eyes, I smiled up at her and saw her shoulders slump in relief as she peered out of the edge of her boat. Soon a beautiful smile bloomed on her pretty lips, and she waved at me to come back. Nodding, I tried bringing my feet up to float properly and swim back to her. Like I did countless times in the swimming pools. But, I couldn't. They felt heavy, numb even.

Diving underwater, I tried seeing what was wrong and immediately regretted it. My skin felt boiling hot-- like I was burning from the inside. The hot flashes made me squirm and flinch; and, as a human, I couldn’t even breathe underwater. Was this the end? Was I turning to foam?

I just couldn’t give up yet but I felt my body slowly give up. I lost the focus in my eyes, all I could see was blurred masses of black ink in murky brownish water. I felt myself sink deeper and deeper as a film covered my eyes, making me see things clearer, brighter even. Blinking them, I tried making sense of the new sensations I was feeling all over my body, all at once. Spreading my hands in front of me, I could see the gaps between my fingers being filled, making them webbed once again.

It was then I realized, I could feel my feet again, but it felt more familiar, heavier. And as I looked below, I saw my tail grow back again, the legs joining together and scales forming over them. It didn't hurt one bit, the excruciating pain of being overly heated from the inside was now almost gone. What remained was a dull thrum of tingling all over my skin which felt refreshing and new. I was back to being a merman again- gills on my neck, ribs; and fins along my forearms and tail.

Overjoyed, I swam around the many little fish, squealing and gliding alongside the turtles, trying out my newly formed tail and fins. Oh, how splendid it felt, to be alive once again.

Swimming at full speed, I went towards the surface where the faint light of the first rays of sunshine could be seen and then I leaped once my arm broke the surface, creating a beautiful arc over the boat where Y/N sat sobbing into her hands.

The water along my body and tail falling down in rivulets and showering her in fresh, clear ocean water. Smirking at her flabbergasted expression, I winked and dived to the other side of the boat.

With a resounding splash, I cut through the surface of the water once again, startling the butterfly and tang fish that were swimming about looking for morning catch. Laughing, I raised my head above water and ran my hand through the wet tresses, feeling my hair become more silky and smooth.

“Thank you!” I screamed, cupping my lips. I just couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off my face and watch her look at me with awed eyes, it just grew even bigger. Swimming towards her, I floated on next to her boat on my back, running my hand across my chest.

“You know, I never thought I’d say this, but you were right.” I agreed, biting my lips to keep my smile away, “Thank you, really, for persuading me to come back.”

“It’s nothing, Taehyung. I’m sure you’d have done the same for me.” She said, nodding as if making herself believe it too.

“Actually, you’re too stubborn.” I pointed at her. It was true, she never listens. Ever. Unless I prepared a whole speech with pros and cons. “ I’d have just thrown you into the ocean while you slept.”

“Hey!”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅• 

That day, I chose to stay back in the ocean while she took the boat to the next town over for supplies. I missed her in the three days that I didn’t see her.

Her presence had been like a rock to me. Something to lean on, something that was there, but I didn’t really feel bothered by it. In the one month, that I’d spent with her, every moment was special and beautiful. Even sleeping next to her was a novelty for me.

I missed it all. The shared meals, where we cooked together and fed each other. The little human jokes I made, the mermaid innuendos she came up with. Every time she was distracted and looked the prettiest of all girls I’d ever come across. The times when she came fresh out of the shower, her skin dewy and soft, to the point I wanted nothing more than to kiss her skin and make it more flushed and beautiful. The moments when we got lost in each other’s eyes and I had to hold myself back from tackling her then and there. The moments where even the silence felt comforting, the moments where I wanted nothing more than to kiss her silly and watch her lose herself in me. But I held back.

I held back then because my fate wasn’t in my hands. Because back then, I wasn’t sure where I belonged—the land or the ocean. But, now I do. Now, I do know. I know my place is right beside her. In the ocean, or staying afloat on it, living on a boat. I’d do it all if that’s what it takes. I’d explore the world by her side, I’d always wanted to too. It was my dream too.

And for that, I had brought along the things I deemed necessary. Most of them were collected from the clutter humans left behind. But I found them interesting and important. Hopefully, Y/N wouldn’t make me throw them away. They held some precious memories of mine.

Some of them were gifts for her. Shiny chains, rings, hair accessories and other things—they meant nothing more than objects lost in the ocean to me. But, I knew, for her, they’d mean the world. They were antique and made of precious metals and stones that shone and shimmered like the night sky. I wanted to see her smile when I gave them to her. I wanted her to wear them for me.

I couldn’t buy her things, I didn’t even have an identity of my own. What I had, however, was knowledge of the ocean no human could ever possess and treasures hidden miles below the surface that no human could reach.

Oh, I figured how to transform too. I was a merman under the ocean. When completely submerged, my body transformed itself to mold to its surroundings and when on land, dried out completely, my humane organs became apparent and I adapted to the surroundings accordingly. It was weird the first few times as it was painful.

But the more I tried, I found my way about it. Or maybe, I just got used to feeling the pain and the heat. Whatever the case, I now knew how to survive in both land and water and somehow more than the fact that it elated me, I was terrified.

Humans were greedy by nature. They always wanted what they couldn’t have. I was scared. What if one day, I wasn’t as careful?

What if they found out about me? Would they cut me open and find out the secrets to my regenerating tissues? Or would they keep me alive as a display and watch me as I struggled inside a cage?

I wondered if this was why my parents never told me I was capable of living out of the water. I wonder if this was why they weren’t as scared when pulled out of the water. Maybe they were humans now. Maybe they were alive and well.

Or maybe in a lab somewhere, or maybe a part of the ocean. Lost to the waves.

As I sat here, waiting for her to come back, I only hoped I didn’t lead us to a fate there was no coming back from.

One || Two || Three ( FINALE)

[sparklyjojos]

[THE CHILDISH DARKNESS Recaps, Chapter 6]

[tw: gore, child abuse, adult / minor relationship]

------

SIX

The kitchen of the Natsukawa house had a small storage under the floor, a simple hole deep enough that an adult could hide there curled in a ball. Saburou liked doing just that. The dark, warm space embraced him like a womb.

Even if he should be the only person in the house, from time to time he could hear the sound of someone’s slippers shuffling over his hiding place, at other times bare feet running. Countless ghosts ruled the Natsukawa house. Sometimes what Saburou believed to be a child’s soul would stop right over him for a moment as if it knew he was there. Saburou hoped he wouldn’t have to stand face to face with the ghost, although to be honest, he didn’t wish to stand face to face with anyone right now. That’s why he was sitting alone under the floor in the first place.

After he climbed out for a toilet run, he realized that Ichirou’s wife Rihoko had been the source of at least one set of footsteps. Rihoko had gained a giant scar and lost an eye during Nozaki’s attack, but even if her face was still partially paralyzed, Saburou could tell she was surprised to see him. Apparently she thought he had gone out with Ichirou to search for their runaway mother.

After some dancing around the topic, Rihoko said she’d been just moving some of her stuff back to her family’s house. She mentioned seeing Yurio during the group therapy meetings that Shirou had been organizing for the families affected by Nozaki’s crimes. It’s not clear why Shirou would take the girl there. Maybe to try and get her to socialize, maybe to make her realize that her suicide plan had been just as stupid as Nozaki’s scheme. Apparently Yurio introduced herself as “Saburou’s girlfriend”, which now prompted Rihoko to ask if they weren’t doing stuff together that a minor decidedly shouldn’t be doing, and she didn’t seem to think very well of the potential relationship.

Saburou thought that maybe Rihoko was testing her husband. Quietly taking away more and more of her belongings every day, waiting to see if he’d take notice. She seemed to be more into Shirou lately [with whom she had slept a few times, that one in the previous book being the last one]. In a back-and-forth with Saburou she said that of course he wouldn’t understand her, as he was a pervert who did certain things in his own mother’s bed. Saburou almost hit her, but came to his senses when he thought about her scars. [And also immediately thought that he’d like to lick them and put her artificial eye into his mouth, because this is Maijo Otaro].

--

At night, the warm darkness of the storage was swallowed by the intimidating darkness of the night.

Lying in his bed, Saburou could hear the ghosts again. He didn’t know whether it was a dream, a hallucination – was he slowly falling ill? -- but the steps of the bare-footed child circled just outside his bedroom.

That night Kaede called to say she had seen Saburou’s mother walking through the Takefu train station on the day of her disappearance. Accompanying her was a handsome man in a suit, as unusually tall as the Natsukawa brothers.

The news made Saburou furious. Their mother had abandoned them and simply went away somewhere, with a man to boot!

Kaede expressed worry about Saburou, but he dismissed it saying he’s fine (as fine as a man routinely hiding away from the world in a dark hole can be, that is). Kaede asked him to go outside and join the search, and to call her more, and commented that Saburou really didn’t have anyone else to talk to than Kaede. Saburou in his anger told her not to call again and threw the phone against the wall, breaking it. For a split second he felt strangely like he physically hurt Kaede doing this, but no, he only hurt her with words. Still seething about his mother running away he got up and opened the bedroom door.

A ghost of a small girl with okappa hair stared at him.

--

Saburou realized he was still standing on the bank of the Mouryou Pond at night. From the forest came towards him a horde of humanoid creatures with long claws and fangs: the Chiuhi from urban legends, ready to eat him alive. Then Kawaji Natsurou with Jirou’s voice showed up and sent Saburou to the ground with one punch, allowing the Hiuchi to begin their feast.

Feeling the Hiuchi tearing his abdomen open, Saburou thought: Why would Kawaji Natsurou do this to him? Well, if that really was Jirou, he would feel hatred for the Natsukawas. Saburou clearly remembered the day when Jirou and Maruo had their biggest fight -- yelling at each other, beating one another, in the chaos even completely knocking over the pot with the stew meant for dinner -- while Saburou and Shirou could only watch dumbfounded. Then their mother came in and took Maruo’s side, but Jirou still refused to apologize, which resulted in being thrown into the triangular warehouse.

But it wasn’t just their mother. Saburou himself at one point pleaded for Jirou to just apologize, which could be seen as an act of betrayal. And after everything was done, the rest of them ate the stew like nothing happened, and no doubt hungry Jirou resented them for it too, and maybe that’s why he wanted to make Saburou ironically become dinner. Most likely he only targeted Saburou. Ichirou hadn’t been there during the fight, and Shirou wasn’t a traitor.

Dying slowly, Saburou thought about whether his life was actually worth anything. Just like Shirou said, he’d been writing stupid mysteries instead of expressing himself through his writing. Just like Kaede said, he’d never believed in love and so never really tried to get it. He had never felt true love. Surely there was gentle and kind love hidden somewhere inside him, but now he would die without ever showing it to anyone. He used to play Rachmaninoff, but eventually gave up on that too.

His soul wasn’t worth anything after all.

--

Saburou woke up on the floor in his room, the morning light having chased the ghosts away, but his abdomen was still hurting and bleeding, bearing a long, poorly stitched wound that shouldn’t be there. It hurt so horribly as if whoever did this to him put something inside.

There was no one he could ask for help in the house. He’d broken the phone after the talk with Kaede, and his cell phone was on another floor. So he was to die here alone, just like he’d been spending his entire life alone. But he didn’t want to die yet! He still had so much love inside him just awaiting the time it’d be finally given to others! Maybe Yurio would somehow telepathically hear his cry for help from many kilometers away and come back to help him!

The ghostly girl was watching him, maybe waiting for him to die so she could take him somewhere. Maybe he would become nothing more than yet another pair of ghostly footsteps inhabiting this house.

--

He woke up in a hospital room. Yurio hugged him strongly and cried.

The police explained to Saburou that he’d beeen a victim of a serial crime. Before him, seven other people had been cut open and sewn back together after having a plastic bag with a considerable amount of money put inside. Saburou was different in that no money was found inside his body.

As if reflecting his worth.

After a moment of relief that he’s alive, Saburou fell into the depths of despair once more. He had to start doing something to give his life more worth. As soon as possible.

(At this moment Shirou entered the room with some very Shirou-ish lines like “Hey there, Zero Yen!”, which didn’t help.)

--

Yurio stayed by his side in the hospital. One night she scuttled into his bed and Saburou thought about whether he should have sex with her [SHE IS THIRTEEN], finally deciding against it because it’d probably screw her up more and besides, he should “try to love her more properly”. So when she proposed sex, he told her that he loved her, and that’s exactly why he wanted them to wait until she’s older. [Cool, but THIS IS STILL CREEPY, NARRATOR]. She’s like “so when I’m 20?” and he’s like “no, earlier than that”, some day after he’d figure his own issues out. [Uhhh.]

She spent the next few days reading Saburou’s books (she seemed to like The White Forest). Saburou really wished she picked up a better book, and Shirou during a visit outright told her to just read Murakami or something else that’d match her taste. She replied that Saburou’s books are interesting and Shirou should really reread them and try to actually understand how good they are, to which both Natsukawa were like ‘what’.

Anyway, Shirou announced that he’s going to go find whoever had wounded Saburou, and that he’d be hanging around in Japan for some time more to tie some loose ends, even though he had his surgeon job back in San Diego. (“Investigation is my favorite job, ‘Burou!”)

Later that day Ichirou came to visit. Saburou told him about how Kaede had spotted their mother on the station.

“Kaede? Oh, that girl who was in love with you,” Ichirou commented, which earned them a look from Yurio.

During the conversation Saburou admitted that he didn’t really care about finding their mother, and that she might be happier wherever she had gone to. Just like it’d probably be with Jirou, she’d be miserable if they brought her back, and it’s not like their awful home situation hadn’t partially been her fault. Maybe it’d be better if they all one day removed themselves from that house.

“I won’t let you run away too, Saburou,” Ichirou said finally just before walking out. “You can’t leave me alone in that house.”

--

That night Shirou and Atena really did drag the culprit to Saburou’s hospital room. The man was Hayashi Tomoaki, a surgeon at Hokoriku Hospital who had used his skills to cut open people and leave money inside them as  compensation. According to the latest news, there had been 13 victims so far – as it turned out, Saburou was actually the 13th, but a bunch of the earlier victims only went to hospital after some time.

The thing was, Hayashi hadn’t actually been the one to attack Saburou.

According to Shirou, on the night of the incident Atena entered the Natsukawa House to check on Saburou, found him drunk and wounded, and saved his life with her medical skills. She wasn’t sure what to do next, as she thought that maybe a lover had stabbed him. If a word got out about Saburou’s tendency to get it on with everyone’s wives, it could lead to a scandal affecting the political careers of Maruo and Ichirou. Eventually Yurio showed up – apparently having heard her name being called from the sky, or something -- forcing Atena to flee the scene in order to avoid being mistaken for the actual attacker.

Not that there had been an ‘actual attacker’ in the first place. Shirou showed Saburou the real culprit: an old scalpel caked in calcified residue. Hayashi had accidentally left it inside Saburou during an appendicitis operation around ten years ago and only much later realized it was missing. To avoid anyone finding out about his mistake, Hayashi took to cutting open all patients from around that time to retrieve the tool. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t quick enough to get to the one person he’d been looking for. Some sudden movement or impact made the scalpel move in such a way that it pierced through Saburou’s skin from the inside creating the wound. Mystery solved.

--

That night, when Yurio climbed into his bed again, Saburou said that he forgave her, and held her close as she burst out in tears. (It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright.)

“Why did you cut me open, Yurio? Were you trying to kill me?”

It wasn’t something hard to figure out. That scalpel couldn’t possibly make a wound that long and Atena’s stitching wouldn’t be that sloppy.

“I don’t want you to die,” Yurio sobbed. “I love you. Don’t you believe me? I’m sorry. I’m sorry. When I found you lying there, I don’t know why, but I wanted to see what’s inside you so much, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You wounded me, but you were the one who stitched me up too, right? You hurt me, but helped me afterwards. I’m alive. I still love you. To be honest, I’m kinda glad this was what happened. I’m relieved it was you who punished me.”

Yurio cried harder. (It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright.)

When she looked up at his face again, she wasn’t Yurio any longer, but the ghostly little girl.

“’It’s alright, it’s alright!’ You keep repeating that, but nothing’s alright at all! You’re not alright! Many horrible events shall befall you all!”

Saburou’s heart stopped.

Saburou was dead.

When Yurio had cut him open to look inside, was there a soul there? Surely there wasn’t. Before he could realize it, Saburou was already dead.

[>>>NEXT>>>]

[artistic-writer]

Between Now and Nether :: Ch 15 :: A CS AU

Title: Between Now and Nether by @artistic-writer [full res fanart]

Summary: On their way to a Nolan Charity Gala, tragedy befalls Emma and Killian who is given just seven days to set things right.  Can he make Emma believe and escape the Nether before he is lost forever?

Rating: T+/M (this one has swear words!)

AO3 Chapters: [1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6] - [7] - [8] - [9] - [10] - [11] - [12] -[13] - [14] - [15] Fanart Full Resolution: [1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6] - [7] - [8] - [9] - [10] - [11] - [12] - [13] - [14] - [15]

A/N: This is officially my last completed chapter.  Which means, that if I do not get my life in some sort of order before Christmas, the last 3 chapters might not be posted until afterwards.  I am sorry, and I know how much people are enjoying this fic, and for that, i thank you all, but I have to complete my CSSS, my csfestivegiving and then there is the little problem of the pile of gifts that need wrapping in my lounge.  I hope you guys will understand and know that I will make sure this fic is finished with a flourish, just for you guys!  Writing isn’t the part that takes the time - It is the fanart, which can very often take me hours!

Forever thanks to @kmomof4 for beta’ing the shit out of this thing!  You are seriously the best!  And a massive thank you to @hollyethecurious who i very often whine to and for making me go do that thing last night…it made me feel so much better :)

Taglist: @mariakov81 @rouhn @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke@hookedonapirate @galadriel26 @aye-captn @the-captains-ayebrows@yayimallamaagain @i-nvr-wrote-it @officerrogerss@kiwistreetswan @wellhellotragic@depechemode75 @distant-rose @yrellow-bugs-and-pirate-ships @courtorderedcake @wellhellotragic  @followbatb

——————————————————————————————————-

The interrogation room was as it always was; cold and dark, the only light from a soft orange fluorescent bulb hanging over the metal table.  Even the furniture, or lack of it, was hard and uninviting. Often used to make a perp feel more than uncomfortable, a tactic often used to draw out the most stubborn confessions. Paint was peeling from the top corner of the room exposing the mold and grime underneath.  It was the perfect metaphor for most of the people who had passed through here, none more so than the short, tubby excuse of a man who was currently fidgeting across from Captain Lucas.  

“So let me get this straight,” Leroy began with a huff.  “You want me to wear a wire and get Gold to confess to blackmailing me?”

“If that is what you are calling it,” Emma spat, folding her arms across her chest.  She stood behind the Captain, a scowl on her face and venom in her words.

“Easy, love,” Killian warned her softly, rubbing her shoulders with his hands.  “Don’t let him get to you.”

Emma sighed slowly and relaxed.  Killian was right.  Leroy was just a pawn and even though he was arrogant, he was just a small fish in a pool of much larger catches.  Gold was their prize.  Captain Lucas sat back in her chair, the metal creaking under her weight and she peered over the rim of her glasses at Leroy.

“I’m sorry,” she said sweetly, staring at the man before her.  “Did we give you a choice?  I don’t think you understand how serious the charges are against you, Leroy.”

“And I don’t think you understand that I don’t care,” Leroy laughed and the grating sound of his voice made Emma shiver.  

“Detective,” the Captain offered sympathetically, sitting forward and smacking her tongue against the roof of her mouth making an audible tutting noise.  “Let’s be realistic here…”

“You want to talk realistic?” Leroy spat, wide eyed and agitated.  He pulled against his restraints, the cold metal of the handcuffs digging into the flesh surrounding his wrists as he tried to stand.  “Gold already knows I am in here,” he growled, jabbing his finger into the brushed metal surface of the table.  “It’s just a matter of time for me now, sister.  I am a dead man.”

Emma narrowed her eyes.  Leroy’s words were the first honest thing he had possibly ever said, and she realised it.  He was insinuating something that both Emma and the Captain knew; that he was not the only crooked cop on Gold’s books.  As disgusting as he was, and as much as he deserved to pay for what he had done and the pain he had caused, he was more scared of a single man than the entire weight of the police force.  They had to find a way to make him more afraid of them than he was of Gold.

“We can protect you,” Emma bit out, the words foreign and filled with hate, her entire being fighting with the urge to override the cop side of her that would have used the line on anybody else with ease.

“How about you say that again, with just a little less hatred,” Leroy rasped with a roll of his eyes, falling back into his chair which slid across the concrete floor with a scraping noise.

“You don’t really have a choice,” Captain Lucas repeated quickly.  She shuffled some of the papers in front of her, pulling out a crime scene photo of Liam’s murder, and slid the glossy photograph towards him.  It stopped when it hit his hands and Leroy eyed it suspiciously, swallowing hard.  “We know you did this.  You know it and we know it.”

It wasn’t the first time Emma had seen the cold, dead eyed gaze of a corpse before, but what made Liam’s even more heart wrenching was that not that long ago, she was looking at the similar expression of Killian as he bled to death in her arms.  The Jones brothers were so alike with the same sapphire stare that could melt right into your soul, but in death, the spark behind them disappeared and left nothing but an emptiness that settled right into her bones.  Emma couldn’t look away, couldn’t tear her eyes from the blood splattered face of the fallen cop on the page, instead frozen to the spot, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

“Emma, love, look away,” Killian soothed, twisting her on the spot and making her face him.  To anyone else in the room it would simply look like she had turned to face the small, barred window, but Emma immediately locked eyes with Killian.  She smiled at him, her lips quivering with the memory of the moment she saw his own light fade from behind his eyes.  “It’s alright,” he whispered softly, rubbing his hands up and down her arms and resting his ethereal forehead against hers.

Emma fought to compose herself, sliding her hands down to her still flat belly.  There was nobody else but them in that instant and she inhaled hard, quickly wiping a tear from her eye.

“Bullshit,” Leroy spat, shaking her from her moment.  

“I believe it was actually a gun,” Captain Lucas twisted in her chair and looked to Emma for clarification.  “Right, detective?”

“Right,” Emma agreed.  “No bullshit anywhere at the crime scene, although,” she paused, her brows pulling together in thought.  “Did we make sure crime scene did a thorough sweep?”

“Says here they did,” she shrugged.  The Captain checked the folder for some notes once more, the photocopied scrawl almost unreadable on the page before her.  “Nope,” she announced, flipping the paper around so Leroy could see it.  “No bullshit.  Just a gunshot with your name all over it.  So why don’t we revisit the idea of you wearing a wire, Detective, huh?”  

She was taking her time in mocking Leroy, making sure that they were the ones in charge of this little dance, making sure that he knew he was in for a nasty future should he decline their offer.  Captain Lucas and Emma had already agreed on their ‘Good Cop, Bad Cop’ routine, making sure to only pull out the biggest of guns in their arsenal if Leroy absolutely outright refused to help.  The man was selfish and cruel but on the very top of his list was self preservation.  He would not want to end up a statistic on death row.

“Bite me,” Leroy spat at them, his lips curling into a snarl.

“You really think Gold will protect you?  You really think he cares what happens to you?” Emma moved around behind him, slapping his shoulders with both of her hands and making him jump a little.  She looked up at the Captain over his head and shook her head with a snort when Leroy gave no reply.  “This guy thinks Gold cares about him.”

“Awww,” Captain Lucas pouted, shuffling in her chair and crossing her legs one over the other.  Her skirt covered her legs like a curtain and her gun rubbed against the metal chair, the leather holster squeaking as she moved.  “That’s so sweet,” she pouted at him and cocked an eyebrow.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Leroy howled, looking between them, his eye flicking over Emma and then the Captain.  “Once Gold gets his claws into you, he owns you.  He owns your job, he owns your free time.  He owns your family,” he sighed.

If Emma looked hard, really hard, she could see the years of anxiety on Leroy’s face.  He was tired and worn, the bags of skin under each of his eyes testament to years of sleepless nights and worry.  He was right, Gold was ruthless, and Leroy was lucky Gold still considered him an asset, but if Leroy’s confessions were anything to go by, Gold had plenty of dirty cops to do his bidding.  Losing one, especially one who was stupid enough get himself caught, wouldn’t matter one bit.

“What about my family?” Killian snarled.

“And what about my family!” Emma yelled, moving beside Leroy so fast he didn’t have time to register she was even there before her words crashed into the side of his face.  Emma slammed her flat palm down on the table beside his cuffed hands and he flinched away from her.  “What about my brother-in-law?  My boyfriend?” Emma growled, her face so close to his she could feel her breath warming her own face as it bounced off of his skin.

“Wrong place, wrong time,” Leroy snarled back at her.

“Son of a…” Emma grabbed Leroy’s shirt, pulling his face to hers with every intention of head butting him.

“Emma!”

“Detective Swan!” Captain Lucas warned quickly and Emma pushed Leroy away from her, stalked away from the table and ran a shaking hand through the hair that had fallen over her face.

“Love,” Killian was at her side instantly, whispering sweet nothings into her ear that only she could hear to try and calm her down.  “Think of the baby,” he begged her softly when she looked up at him and took a deep, calming breath.

Leroy began to chuckle, his whole body bobbing up and down in the chair he was sitting in.  He shook his head, looking down at his hands.  “You think I don’t know what you are doing?” He laughed.  “Your little good cop, bad cop routine is not going to work on me,” he said firmly.  “You two forget who I am.”

“Have we?” Captain Lucas looked at him sternly, her face as still as stone.  “Or have you, Leroy?  Do you even know who you are anymore?” She reached forward once more, picking up another file that looked newer and like it had been well stored.  It was Leroy’s personnel file and when she flipped it open, she tossed page after page of commendations and promotions towards him.  Finally, when Leroy looked away in disgust, she tossed the crime scene photo of Liam’s murder back across the metal surface, making sure it landed exactly where he could see it.  “Are you a good cop gone bad, or have you always been a son of a bitch?”

Emma looked up at the Captain’s curse, never having heard the seemingly sweet old lady say much more than ‘shoot’ before.  In a way, Emma wasn’t sure why she was surprised.  

“She’s not the Captain for nothing,” Killian smirked at Emma, reading her mind.

“We know you killed Liam Jones,” Captain Lucas said seriously, pressing her fingers together in front of her.  “We know you did it for Gold.  You are finished, Leroy.  Done.  You are not a cop anymore.  After today, you are nothing,” She looked up, catching Emma’s eye.  “Isn’t that right, Detective Swan?”

The signal.  There it was.  Time to bring out the big guns.

Emma nodded and moved to face the short, bearded man once more.  “That’s right,” she agreed, moving around the table.  Leroy watched her nervously when she reached for the photograph and shoved the paper in his face.  “And you see that?” She pointed out a small, green square in the not so distant background on the photograph.  “That looks like a sign, wouldn’t you agree, Captain?”

Captain Lucas lifted her head so her glasses fell backward up her nose and she squinted at the image.  “Oh yeah, that’s the Maine state line sign,” she nodded confidently, letting her glasses fall back down her nose.  “On the Piscataqua River Bridge, I’d say.”

“The Maine/New Hampshire state line...Swan, what are you getting at?”

“Oh,” Emma feigned surprise and stepped back.  Maybe it was the start of morning sickness, but the rotten stench of corruption that eliminated from the man beside her was too much.  “Doesn’t New Hampshire have the death penalty?” She gave Killian a gleeful smirk.

“Bloody brilliant!” Killian exclaimed.

“Sure does,” Captain Lucas agreed with a grin, watching a bead of sweat roll down Leroy’s forehead as realisation set in.

“And this photograph looks pretty close,” Emma tossed the photo back onto the table, pacing beside it, tapping her lips as she pretended to think.

“I think you are right,” Captain Lucas grinned wider, watching her young prodigy work.  She had always known Emma would be one of her best detectives, but watching her take on a seasoned veteran of the force, making him sweat under her interrogation just confirmed it.

Emma gasped out loud, clapped her hands together and Leroy jumped about a foot from the chair he was sitting on.  He landed back down with a clatter, his handcuffs and chain rattling through the metal loop welded to the table.  “Do you know what?” Emma turned to the Captain, snapping her fingers and pointing at her with a wide eyed grin.  “I bet the New Hampshire boys would love this!  Catching a cop killer!”

“I can give them a call?” Captain Lucas offered, planting her hands on the edge of the table and readying herself to rise.

“Wait!” Leroy shouted, slamming his balled fists on the table.  “Just...wait a second…” He sounded panicked and Emma enjoyed the rush that flushed over her body.

“Swan, I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again, you are a marvel and I love you!” Killian declared gleefully, rushing to her side.  “Scare him with the death penalty!  Perfect!”

“So what’s it going to be, Leroy?” Captain Lucas’s voice was harsher, her ultimatum clear.  “Your life or Gold’s?”

Leroy sighed, hanging his head.  “Set it up.  I’ll wear the wire.”

The tape itched under his shirt, pulling against his chest hair every time that he took a step down the ever lengthening hallway towards Gold’s office.  It never seemed to get any brighter, instead enveloping him in the darkness that had taken over his life for so long.  Leroy was nervous, the tension in the hall palpable as he finally reached the end of the dimly lit corridor and reached for the ominously marked door to Gold’s office.

“Ah, Detective,”Gold said cheerily without even looking up from the desk in front of him.  He was signing some documents, untoward no doubt, and Leroy knew not to take too much notice of them.  Gold’s pen swished across the paper effortlessly, the dull thud of the end of his signature shattering the silence in the room.  He closed the green, leather bound document holder and handed it to Hyde, finally looking up to meet Leroy’s gaze with a sly grin.  “What can I do for you?”

“I need a favour,” Leroy said confidently, striding into the office even further once Gold’s henchmen had made themselves scarce.  He knew that the mob boss couldn’t resist the chance to make a deal.  Gold loved to be owed and Captain Lucas had told Leroy to appeal to his greedier side.

Gold motioned to the chair opposite his huge, hardwood desk and Leroy took a seat.  The luxuriously soft leather squeaked and groaned under his weight and it felt supple under his fingertips that clutched at the arm.  It was expensive, obviously, and Leroy realised that no one was ever going to be better than Gold.  He would always be fodder, easily dismissed with the crack of a gun and sting of a bullet.

Gold’s face lit up and he sat forward in his high back leather chair.  “A favour, you say?” he leered with a grin.  “I like the sound of that.”

“The cop…” Leroy stopped mid sentence, heeding the Captain’s instructions not to implicate knowledge of Gold’s deeds outright.

“Remember, we need him to say it, not you…”

“The cop that...died,” Leroy emphasised the last word with a nod of his head.

“Terrible accident,” Gold feigned sympathy.  “Such a shame,” he lied.

“Yes, well, his girlfriend is sniffing around,” Leroy lied, trying desperately to hide the threat of a stutter in his words.  Gold narrowed his eyes and calmly rubbed his thumb against his fingers, a nervous twitch that Leroy had noticed before.

“That pretty little blonde thing?” Gold smirked and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips.  “What does she want?”

“She thinks it was a hit,” Leroy shrugged casually, eyes dropping to watch the shake that had developed in his leg.  “She keeps coming to the precinct going on and on about how her boyfriend was murdered.  Frankly, it’s getting annoying,” he huffed.

“I am failing to see how I can help you,” Gold said slightly annoyed that Leroy was wasting his time with such a frivolous story.  He was smart, he hadn’t been a crime boss for so long without intelligence after all, and Leroy knew it wouldn’t be easy to get anything from Gold that would send the barrage of armed police officers waiting outside crashing through the door.  It was time to play dirty.

“Your name came up,” Leroy said.

“My name? In what context?” Gold prodded, well and truly intrigued.  

“She has files, proof, connecting you to some murder back in the day.  Says it was her boyfriend’s parents,” Leroy swallowed hard and when he looked up, Gold was staring at his own hands that were clenched tightly together in front of him.

The underarms of Leroy’s shirt were already soaked from his interrogation but were even more so now.  If Gold found out what he was up to, there would be no need for a murder trial.  He would be dead before he even reached the door.  Leroy gulped hard, lightly scratching his beard and snaking his hand to rub at the back of his neck.

“Don’t worry so much Leroy,” the Captains words echoed in his head.  “You’re not dead until you are cold and dead.”

“She thinks you…” Leroy began but was silenced when Gold lifted his gaze once more and pressed a finger to his lips.  The muscles in Gold’s jaw ticked as he clenched his teeth and he inhaled hard.  If it wasn’t one cop causing so many problems in his life, it was all of them.  How many would he have to rid himself of before he was free from their torment?

“Her name,” Gold said darkly.

Leroy’s brow furrowed in confusion for a second and he shook his head.  “Her name is Emma Swan,” he said, still confused.  “What are you going to do?” Leroy shocked himself at his own bravery, the prickly heat of adrenaline surging through his body and covering his skin.

“Oh Leroy,” Gold sang eerily.  “I am not going to do anything.”  He pushed himself back away from his desk, the wheels of his chair moving across the floor silently.  Gold reached for his cane and once he was on his feet, he began pacing behind his desk, tapping the brass tip of the walking aid onto the floor.

“But what if the Captain decides to take a look at what she has?” Leroy offered into Gold’s thought process.  

“I didn’t say you were not going to do anything about it,” Gold sneered, pointing the shiny tipped point of his cane towards Leroy’s chest.  A few more inches and he would make contact, undoubtedly prodding the microphone of his wire and blowing the whole operation.  Leroy gulped hard and shot a look at the cane hanging between them.

“What do you mean?” Leroy stammered.

“You are going to make her go away,” Gold whispered, his voice deeper and full of a mixture of anger and resentment.

“But you said we were even, when I killed Liam Jones for you,” Leroy’s voice turned into panic, albeit faked, but he figured that if Gold suspected anything about being recorded, confessing to the murder of another officer might seem like he was a little bit more genuine.  

“And now we are unbalanced once again,” Gold sneered, pulling the cane back to his side and stamping it onto the floor once more.  “Emma Swan has to go and you suddenly owe me.”

And there it was.  Gold’s deal.  All Leroy needed now was for him to confirm it as per the Captain’s orders and he would be spared the death penalty.  Leroy shuffled awkwardly in his chair and teetered on the edge of the soft, red leather.  “You want me to kill Emma Swan?”

There wasn’t even a paused before, through gritted teeth, Gold snapped his head to look at Leroy once again and gave him a slow nod.  “Kill Emma Swan.  Make it look like an accident.  Make it look like she blew her brains out through grief, I don’t care.  And get me those files she has,” Gold added quickly, his thumb rubbing the side of his finger again as he contemplated what they might contain.  “I want Emma Swan dead and I want those files.”

The next five minutes of Leroy’s life were a blur in slow motion.  There were two doors to Gold’s office and they simultaneously burst open, each kicked nearly off their hinges by a SWAT officer dressed head to toe in black kevlar and velcro straps.  Gold was tackled to the floor, the shouting and barked orders coming from the SWAT team leader lost in the hum of silence as Leroy went deaf, his hands were wrenched behind his back and the cool metal of handcuffs met his wrists.  

Captain Lucas strode into the room with Emma in tow, both of them wearing a ballistics vest and wry smiles.  Gold watched the scene with an arrogant smirk, still believing he was untouchable.  He had been raided before but nothing had ever stuck.  Everybody had their price and Gold had the means to meet each and every sum of money that stood in his way.  That was, until he had failed to corrupt a certain, almost elderly Captain and her young wolf cub prodigy who he had now come to realise was Emma Swan.  The SWAT officer yanked him to his feet and he tried to shake off his grip with a weak shrug as, standing eye to eye with Captain Lucas, he smirked slyly.

“Captain,” he said, the words slithering from his lips like the snake he was.  “What a surprise.”

“The only surprise here is how stupid you are, Gold,” Captain Lucas shot a glance at Leroy as he was led from the room, head hung low as another officer fiddled with removing the recording device and microphone from his body, slipping them both into an evidence bag and sealing it shut.  Gold watched, his jaw hanging open slightly as he realised what had just happened.

“Gold,” Emma began, stepping forward and catching his attention with a commanding voice.  “You are under arrest for the solicitation of the murder of Emma Swan.  You have the right to remain silent.  Anything you say can be used against you.  You have the right to an attorney.  If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the court...”

“This is a mistake. Laughable, really,” Gold interrupted with a chuckle..

“Still an arrogant bastard I see,” Captain Lucas smiled sweetly at him.

“Still a dried up has been of a cop I see,” Gold retorted with a spiteful tone.  Captain Lucas simply smiled, wrinkling her nose so that her glasses moved up the bridge a little more, and stepped forward until she was almost leaning against him.

“We got you Gold.  You’re finished,” Captain Lucas spat at him, her face so close to his she could almost feel his dread.  “Get him out of here!”  she shouted into the room before Gold’s cries of protest fell on the deaf ears of everyone as he was dragged out of his office to the waiting police car.

[jadehqknb]

Aomine works as a soldier for Japan's National Guard and their biggest challenge so far is the crime organization that's working with aliens that invaded the planet. Aomine's s/o was a genius scientist who was abducted by the organization and Aomine hasn't seen her since. Years later he found out the org has been utilizing her extensive knowledge to help in the evolution of aliens and humans alike so he has no choice but to stop her. He also found out that the s/o is actually a clone. (1)

The real s/o was killed, but the clone was injected with her memories so she knows Aomine. Angst, and you get to decide the ending. Sorry this is more sci-fi than supernatural but I still hope it’s acceptable. Thanks and good luck with your AU event! ^^ (2)

So anon, I really like this idea but my brain took me in a different direction so while the essence of your request is here, I changed up a few things. Also, warning for violence and death. I don’t want to say who or how because it will spoil it more than it already has so if the idea makes you squeamish, skip this one.

As the dust settles, Aomine blinks. That was one hell of an explosion. Turning, he smirks at Kagami. “You really know your shit when it comes to being explosive.”

“Was that your bad attempt at a pun? You’ve been hanging around Izuki too much,” grumbles Hyuuga, shifting the weight of his semi-automatic.

“Hey, I resemble that remark!”

“Will you all shut up! We need to focus!” snaps Riko. The words are barely out of her mouth before gun fire erupts. Struck in the shoulder, she hisses in pain but she fights through it loosing off her own shots towards the advancing enemy.

“We need to get to the central core,” shouts Aomine over the fray, “Tetsu, come on, let’s go!” The ace shooter and shadow bob and weave around the debris, rushing through corridor after corridor as their squad covers them.

“This way!” Kuroko indicates, ducking around a corner only to come face to face with one of the aliens. He skirts back, unable to raise his weapon in time but a splash of blue and not red signals his partner has saved his ass.

“I swear, Tetsu, I don’t know how you’ve survived the war this long, you’re a terrible shot even when you do manage to get your finger on the trigger.”

“Thanks, Aomine-kun,” Kuroko breathes, heart still racing at just how close he came to death.

The two blue haired males continue on their way, the sound of gun fire echoing behind them. They can only hope all will make it out of this alive. Finally, they spot the door they’ve been searching for and rush through it before Kuroko grabs his barricader and slides it into the handles. “It won’t give us a lot of time, but enough to get this done,” he comments. When Aomine doesn’t respond, he turns, eyes widening. In front of them, stand hundreds and hundreds of pods, all filled with bodies.

“Wha…what the hell is this?” Aomine chokes out.

As they get closer, both notice the figures are grotesque, some with extra limbs, some missing limbs. Some have two or three heads while others have none. But the most terrifying realization is that the pulsing resonance in the room are heart monitors. All of these…things…are alive.

“Dai-kun?”

A feminine voice startles both males and they raise their guns towards the sound. Normally a shoot first and ask questions later kind of guy, Aomine hesitates at hearing his first name. No, not just his first name, a name he hasn’t heard in years. There’s only two people in the entire world who call him that, or rather called him that since he knew them both to be dead. As his eyes fall on the woman moving towards him, he frowns; he doesn’t know her at all so how does she know him?

“I can’t believe it’s really you,” she whispers, heedless of the heavy hardware trained on her.

“Who the fuck are you?” Aomine can’t help asking. “And stay right where you are!”

Blinking away tears, she keeps moving, propelled towards the one person in the whole world she never thought she’d see again. “It’s me, Dai-kun, it’s ________.”

Aomine narrows his eyes, trigger finger twitching. “Don’t you dare say her name, you bitch!”

She flinches, then smiles warmly. “Of course, I forgot, I’m….I look different now,” she comments, “but it’s really me. I know! I’ll prove it! Ask me something you know only _______ would know.”

Aomine can feel himself trembling. How long has it been since he heard her name? If he had his way, no one would think it let alone speak it aloud to him and here’s this bitch, their enemy, casually claiming to be the one person in the entire world he loved more than anything else; more than himself, more than basketball when he played it once upon a time.

Why hasn’t he shot her yet?

Kuroko opens his mouth to protest but Aomine is already speaking. “Where did we meet?”

“You were on the roof top at school. I’d just finished practice with the dance team and went to get some fresh air and found you. We talked and you asked for my number but I wouldn’t give it to you that easily.”

“What did I leave in your locker?”

She smiles, but it’s not _______’s smile, it’s the smile of a stranger. “A basketball with your number on it.”

Aomine wants to believe no matter how impossible it is, that this is true. That somehow, _______, the love of his life is within this unfamiliar shell. But these questions are too easy. He’d been warned, been threatened by the mafia who ran with these bastards that they’d get him. They knew he was a threat, that as an ace shooter on the Vorpal squad he’d be a menace to them and he has been. So it’s no wonder they’ve sent someone to-

“Aomine-kun.” Kuroko’s voice startles the taller male; he’d completely forgotten he was here. “We need to hurry.”

“Go on then, I’ll be right there,” Aomine replies.

“But-“

“Just go, Tetsu!” he snaps.

“Be careful, remember, they’re tricky.” Kuroko moves past the woman, her heedless of where he’s going and why. She knows she should care and a part of her is positively screaming to act, to kill them, to protect what she’s worked so hard to create but she can’t. Not now that he’s here.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” she murmurs but at the look in his eyes she pauses again. “I can see you’re still not convinced, ok then, ask me something really, really personal. Something you know for sure no one else in the whole world would know except for _________.” It feels weird speaking about herself in the third person but if it’s what Dai-kun needs to move forward, to understand, to believe that’s it’s really her even if it’s a different body, then she’ll do it.

Aomine takes in a deep breath, his mind racing trying to think of something while at the same time berating him for even playing this game. No doubt this is a delay tactic, a way to make sure he doesn’t complete his mission but he’s missed her so much and he’s heard about this. Heard about people running into strangers who claimed to know them, claimed to be someone they weren’t, but it always ended up the same way; with someone or something dead.

Swallowing, Aomine looks her in the eye. “What did I say to you after the first time we had sex?”

She sniggers, the sound foreign in his ears. “Oh Dai-kun, of course your mind would go there,” she chides. Settling herself, she returns the intensity of his stare. “You told me that I beat you and it was the closest thing to a confession of love I’d ever get.”

Pain slams through Aomine’s chest at the remembrance, at the feel of her beneath him that first time, of her scent surrounding him, her lips on his, his hands on her. He’d forgotten, forgotten all of that until now, the memories too painful to allow to the surface so he pushed and pushed and pushed until he tread upon them, until they no longer haunted his dreams. How could this…. thing know so much about him and his ________?

“How?” One word filled with so much.

“I…when I was taken, they tried to make me work for them. Torture, you don’t know the meaning of the word but I wouldn’t give in. They broke my body trying to weaken my mind but I wouldn’t give up. I…I wouldn’t betray my own kind.” Her voice quivers and he has to stop himself from drawing her in. He can’t, this can’t be real!

“So,” she goes on, tears spilling on the ground, “eventually they decided if I wouldn’t comply in my own body, they’d put my mind somewhere more controllable.” Aomine’s gut clenches, whatever food he’d managed to shove in his mouth today wanting to erupt back out of it. “They removed my brain and fused it with one of their kind. That was three years ago and I’ve…well, you can see.” When her arm extends behind her, Aomine clenches his fist.

“You made those?! Why, what purpose could they possibly serve?” he roars. “My _______, would never….could never do that!”

His weapon clatters to the ground, hands fastening around her throat. Wide terrified eyes stare into his. “I don’t know what the fuck you did to her to get the information you did or the purpose of doing it, but one thing I do know is you are going to die. If she’s still alive, I’ll find her, but I doubt that.”

She chokes out, “Dai-kun….I….I’m right here. Stop…please…”

“No more lies!” he bellows, squeezing harder, feeling her pulse thunder against his fingers. A garbled noise of pain leaves her lips which are rapidly turning blue, her nails scratching and clawing at his skin but he’s relentless, eyes full of rage and hate and death. Because he’s fully dead inside now. He’d always hoped maybe he’d find her one day but that hope is gone. He knows she’s dead.

Just like the woman who’s now on her knees, eyes rolled in the back of her head. When he releases, her body crumples to the ground in a heap.

“Aomine-kun, we-“ Kuroko stops short, eyes wide at the sight of his ace standing over the very dead body of the woman he’d seen before.

When Aomine lifts his head, Kuroko almost shrinks back. There’s no more light, no more life, just empty vacant pools. “Let’s go, Tetsu,” he says lowly, stepping into the corridor and shutting the door. They begin running again, Kuroko pressing a button on a remote once they’re clear and another explosion rocks the foundations of the compound.  

[rason-rodd]

Red Hood And The Outlaws : Loyalty (Chapter 4)

[Read the Chapter on AO3] [ Chapter 3 ] 

Chapter 4 : A Beast in Crime Alley

She was no detective but she was a damn good huntress. Always has been as far as she could recall. She had hunted Nubian ibex and dorcas gazelles as a teenager, learned to recognize prints and how fresh they were. But above all, she had learned how to track the Bow of Ra. And now it was close, at her reach, just a mere deal to fulfil and it will be hers and no dog whatsoever will prevent that.

It was a dark alley, wet and gloomy. The street lamps were dim and the dumpsters overwhelmed. The reek was atrocious. It was the kind of alley no one would walk through, at least not by choice. Even the name screamed cutthroat area. CRIME ALLEY. The perfect place to hide a corpse, thought Artemis looking at the human arm sticking out of one of the dumpster, blood dripping from his sleeve.

She approached and opened the skip, holding her nose with one hand. Flies came out and she brushed them away with her free hand. What a massacre. The man had been turned into shreds. Claw marks and bites all over his body, his clothes in tatters and his black mask ripped up. The attack looked recent. His blood was still flowing and his body wasn’t that cold.

And suddenly he moved, taking a huge breath that almost scared Artemis who backed down with a curse.

“ Help me.” he begged trying to reach out for her.         “ Where did she go?” she asked firmly                 “ It hurts … It hurts like hell.” he cried out

Then, Artemis heard a noise behind her, something that sounded like a growl and then she understood. Back when she was living with the Amazons she had seen how to trap the biggest animals of the island. You take a bait, place in a place with only one way out, wait for the prey to come and then you corner it and kill it.     But today she was not the hunter. She was the hunted, the prey. And she was cornered. She had fallen head first into a trap.

She seized her axe and waited for the predator to appear, on her guard, her hands tensed on the stick, ready to strike.

“ Come on! Get out the shadow. Let’s end this”

The creature appeared at the end of the alley but from where Artemis stood it was impossible for her to discern anything but a mere dark female silhouette and a pair of glowing yellow eyes, full of wit and mischief.

“ I can’t believe Black Mask actually sent an Amazon after me.”           “ Surprise” “ I appreciate the man’s despair but you… you have stooped so low. Wonder Woman would be disappointed in you. I thought Amazons were independent strong warriors not mercenaries.” “ We are and if I do this it’s because Black Mask has something that belongs to me”                 “ I hope for you it’s worth it then … because it’s going to cost you your life.” Artemis gritted her teeth and tensed her hand even more on her axe.               “ Before you die in an excruciating pain I wanted to say to you. You were not the one I expected to see” “ Trust me I’m above all your expectations ”   “ No … but I delight with this fight in advance. I was tired of Black Mask’s simple-minded lackeys” “ Are you done talking? Shall we fight now?”   “ Yes dear we shall” she replied with a satisfied smile              

And that was it. Artemis started running towards the Shapeshifter ready to cut her in a half with her axe just to have to pleasure to end this quick and shut her up once and for all. But she was fast and agile and just dodge the weapon with a single leap. She landed on her hands and feet behind the Amazon.

“ That’s the thing with heavy weapon. They are always hard to brandish. That’s why I don’t use any” “ I would love to see how you’re going to kill me with those manicured nails of yours”             “ You like them?”

She was playing with her, enraging her just to make her lose control and stop thinking strategically, trying to prove once more that agility and brain are better than muscles and strength. And she was definitely calling the tune. Her speed and graceful acrobatics performed with an astonishing easiness were enough to destabilize Artemis. She was moving from right to left, up to down, forcing the Amazon to swing her axe restlessly.             But then she disappeared in silence, leaving Artemis almost breathless and confused.

“ You’re wasting my time! Stop this game and fight!” “ I thought you would love it”

Artemis jumped to where the sound came but nothing. She circled the area with her eyes, trying to find her in the darkness.

“You’re a coward you know that, crouched in the shadow. Are you afraid to face me?”           “No”

Artemis looked up just in time to see the girl jumping on her from the top of the fire escape, her glowing killer eyes on her, her body turning into its beast form. Now was the time. Black Mask wanted her head. Well, she was about to spare him the chore to cut it off himself. This fight was now personal. Now was the time. The beast was now at her reach, its white fur dishevelled, its fangs out. It was gigantic and impressive but not enough to make Artemis back down. Now was the time.

Or not …

All of a sudden, the sound of a gunshot echoed like a thunder in the alley. A bullet pierced the air, hit the mark with an incredible precision, right in the joint of the animal’s back leg, a non lethal wound but an incapacitating one nonetheless. The creature fell on Artemis who pushed it away against the street lamp behind her with a superhuman strength. She hit it with full force, bending it like a mere wire before falling on the ground with a squeal of pain.   The gunner dropped his gun and put it back in his holster before running towards the animal that was crawling on the ground, stunned and wounded, but Artemis stopped him.

“ Are you proud of yourself?” She yelled               “ “Hey Red Hood thank you for your help” ” Jason said imitating the Amazon’s voice                 “ I didn’t need your help. I was handling this.”                 “ Didn’t look like it. From behind my gun sights it looked as if she was about to kill you” “ You mean I was about to kill her … But you couldn’t prevent yourself from interrupting and stealing the show.”   “ What are you talking about Artemis? I only did this to save you.”     “ No you did this in order to stay on Black Mask’s good sides so stop pretending you care about me. And now thanks to you your ‘boss’ will never give me back my bow, you selfish little boy!”     “ Because you truly think he would have kept his word?”

She didn’t answer. No way she would agree with him on this. There was too much pride in her to so. But her silence was enough for Jason though he chose not to rub it in.               The sound of cracking bone came out from the darkest corner of the alley.

“ Oh I don’t like this” Jason confessed, his hand back on his gun           “ Coward”

Still cranky, Artemis approached the Shapeshifter dragging her out from the shadows by her wounded leg making her cry in pain. She was now under the dim flickering streetlight, motionless and above all, human.

“ You don’t feel so smart now, do you?” Artemis asked with pride “Now let’s finish this”         “ Artemis!” Jason screamed “Enough… She’s beaten”

He came closer to the girl before stopping abruptly when he noticed how fragile she was looking. She was laid on the ground fighting to go back on her feet, her knee was bleeding and she was shivering with pain and anger. Red Hood took off his leather camel jacket and placed it on her feminine naked body as delicately as he could. She gasped and almost scratched him in the process.

“ Easy” Jason Todd gently told her with his arms outstretched, showing her the palms of his hands to allow her to see he was not going to harm her. But she remained edgy, her eyebrows furrowed as she was looking at him through the messy and wet strands of her white hair, her big green-grey eyes filled with rage and hatred.

He tried to carry her but she suddenly growled at him like an enraged creature. The yell was half human half animal and she was showing him her long prominent sharp fangs. She was glaring at him with her now glowing animalistic gold eyes. She could have scared him only if she hadn’t look so pitiful and terrified like a trapped animal.

“ I’m sorry but this is not personal” He confessed with compassion   “ For me it is” Artemis claimed before knocking her out with a strong punch

[clan-fuildarach]

the new establishment 

back at court dorchadas, emiliano lets his nobles know exactly what kind of king he’s going to be, and his plans for the future. 

~

Corin's disappearance occupied Emiliano's thoughts for the next couple of days, forcing him to set aside his longstanding plans for reform at the court. He'd interviewed every single witness, all the servants who'd unknowingly let Atropa into Corin's quarters, and their stories all said roughly the same thing: Corin had been taken, but it had not been by force. He'd been spotted simply walking out of the court with Atropa.

Further sightings of two guardians flying south confirmed Emiliano's worst fears; Atropa had taken the boy home with him, to the remotest corner of the globe. Court Dorchadas had no allies in the Southern Icefields who could help.

“I could contact my brother, he lives down there,” Fallon offered, one evening. He was sitting with Thea on the floor of the royal suite, carefully clipping her claws; she hadn't been outside enough to wear them down on her own. She refused to sit still, so the job was not going smoothly.

“No,” Emiliano said. “I know Rue could probably help, but it wouldn't solve the problem. And I don't fancy asking a foreign force to storm the Winterborn fortress for the sake of one boy.” He hated to be dismissive, but it was true. If Corin had been taken by force, by some stranger, it would be different. But the fact was that Corin had been taken by his own father.

Atropa was a monster in many ways, but Emiliano didn't think he'd hurt Corin. He had always been perfectly normal around his son, during the family gatherings Emiliano had been forced to witness as Corin's bodyguard. But that didn't mean Emiliano had to be comfortable with the thought of Corin surrounded by enemies of the Court.

“Nothing will solve the problem,” Fallon said, releasing Thea's right paw and reaching for her left. She spread her newly blunted claws and tried to scratch the carpet, looking supremely disappointed when nothing happened. “That entire trading company is our problem, and we can't go to war against that.”

“Who says we can't?” Emiliano checked the clock that rested on one of the spindly end-tables. Only a few more minutes until the dinner he'd so carefully organised. He couldn't be late. Pacing back and forth in front of Fallon and Thea, lost in thought, he turned over his options in his mind.

“Um,” Fallon said, “Commander Rezann? He's Zaer's biggest ally. Emilio, we can't fight him. He'd crush us – we're lucky to have survived last time he came to the court!”

“No, yeah,” Emiliano said, frowning at nothing in particular. “You're right. Not if we try it alone.”

Fallon clipped through another claw, watching Emiliano in silent disbelief.

“No, listen,” Emiliano said, rounding on him. “There's already a force rebelling against him! His citadel was taken over by these guys, they're obviously good. What if we joined them? We have the resources – gods, you'll never hear me praise that man again, but Atropa managed our affairs better than anyone else ever has. We have a shit ton of weapons and fuel and whatever to spare.”

“I... guess,” Fallon said. “You'd better go and get some proper advisers, though, they'd know more than me.”

Well, that was probably true. Emiliano had already promised to pick advisers and representatives from every single occupation in the court, so that each guild and class could have an equal say. There was no way he was going to the nobility for advice – no doubt they'd be firmly resistant to any proposition that involved them actually leaving their comfort zone. Maybe a senior member of the militia could help with this particular problem.

His thoughts went instantly to Iriangi, but he held them in check. He couldn't play favourites. Maybe there was someone better and more experienced than her that he could nominate.

The clock chimed gently to announce the hour.

“Oh, shit, it's time to go,” Emiliano said, jolting out of his reverie. He snatched up the darksteel crown from the end-table and jammed it on as best he could. He had to look good for this dinner party. Unfortunately, his tailors hadn't yet gotten back to him with his new royal attire, so he was forced to dress in the fanciest clothing he owned; his militia dress uniform.

“Bye,” Fallon said, with a little wave. No doubt he was savouring the fact that, for once, he wasn't obliged to attend every single royal event. He got to stay home with Thea instead, and after only a few days of this he looked remarkably at ease, relaxed and free from that strange well-hidden anxiety that had plagued him for years.

“Bye,” Emiliano said, pausing at the door to blow a kiss to Thea. “I'll bring you back something nice from the dinner!”

He let himself out of the royal suite, fumbling slightly with the ornate door handles, and set off down the corridor. It was difficult to put all thoughts of Corin out of his mind, but he had to do it. He needed his full focus for this next task.

There was a large dining hall for banquets and feasts, but tonight's dinner was being held in a much smaller room just off to the side of the ballroom. It was to be a small, private affair, with a very exclusive guest-list. Of course, once the nobles had gotten wind of it they'd been falling over themselves to ingratiate themselves, to get on what they perceived was Emiliano's good side.

They were quite mistaken.

He entered the dining room through the door reserved for royalty, as he had countless times before as a bodyguard. It was a little disconcerting to be using it without Corin there for company. He found himself facing a long table full of chattering nobles, all of whom fell silent at Emiliano's entrance.

Without paying much attention to them, he went to sit at the head of the table. With a huge rustle and a scrape of chair-legs on stone, everybody else in the room stood up. He paused, wondering what the matter was for a split second before remembering that it was just court protocol. The king sat first.

He sat down, enjoying the wary looks many of the nobles cast him. They were right to be nervous. No doubt they'd noticed what they all had in common, the thing that linked them all together. The guest-list had been very carefully chosen.

“You can sit,” Emiliano said, only once he himself was comfortably seated.

And they all sat, with another deafening thud. It was incredible. He could make them do whatever he wanted.

He let them stew, electing instead to take a very slow sip from his wine glass. Wine was the only thing on the table. There would be no actual dinner here. As he drank he watched them and marvelled at how ridiculous they looked from this new perspective, no longer a threatening mob who wanted to expose him and Fallon in public just for the sake of drama. Now they just seemed rather sad, each trying to outdo the rest with their outlandish fashion.

“Okay,” Emiliano said, setting down his glass. He pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket and smoothed it flat on the table. “Before we get to it, does anyone have anything they want to say?”

“Yes, of course,” one of the nobles sitting closest to him said. She was a tall imperial whose name he didn't remember, her face intricately painted. “On behalf of my hold I must extend the warmest welcome to His Majesty. We are yours to command, and it is indeed an honour to serve under such a courageous king.”

'Courageous' was probably the nicest descriptor that anyone in the room was able to apply to Emiliano. He nodded, unable to help his tiny blush at being addressed as His Majesty. He'd imagined this so many times, in all kinds of different settings, even back when he'd still thought Aster was his father. So he really had no reason to be surprised, he told himself.

“Is that all?” he said, glancing around the table.

One by one, the nobles delivered their own spin on the same greeting; fervent promises to serve under him, praise for his 'acts of bravery', and so on. He didn't miss the nervous creak in their voices, or the way their eyes darted to the servants' entrance, as if they were starting to wonder where the food was. More than a few began to eye the guards standing in each corner with suspicion.

Finally, the last stammering noble fell silent. Emiliano drank it all in, relishing the increasingly obvious looks of fear on the nobles' faces. This was fun.

“All right,” he said, glancing down at his sheet of paper. “This is the guard-captain's report from the ball. First of all... Lord Koda. Do you have anything to tell me?”

The nocturne squirmed in his seat. “I was there, Your Majesty, of course. I was horrified by the unfortunate turn of events.”

Emiliano wanted to play it cool, to be impressively calculating and cunning and all the rest of it, but  he couldn't rein in his mingled anger and delight. “You fucking liar. It says what you did right here, and I saw you do it. You laid a hand on Prince Fallon, in front of everyone, because you thought you could get away with it.” The sheet of paper crumpled as his hand closed into a fist.

“I – I'm awfully sorry, Your Majesty,” Koda stammered. “I thought he was guilty of a crime, I thought -” He glanced back around at the guards, shuddering, then quickly turned and bowed deeply to Emiliano. “Please, Your Majesty, tell me what I can do to make it up to you and Prince Fallon. I am your humble servant.”

This was really fun.

“I can have you executed,” Emiliano said, struggling not to smile. He took a sip from his glass and struggled to control his features.

“No – no, Your Majesty, please, anything but-”

“No.” Emiliano met his eyes. “I want to see you beg for your life.”

So Koda begged. And when he was finished, bowing so deep his forehead almost touched the floor, one of the guards moved forward on Emiliano's signal. She sank her sword to the hilt in Koda's back, held for a moment, then kicked him aside.

Silence descended. Koda's fingers twitched one last time. Emiliano refilled his glass.

“You all know I'm serious,” he said. “So. We'll try that again. Does anyone have anything they want to say to me?”

The nobles practically fell over one another to confess their sins, speaking truthfully for the first time since the doors had locked in their wake. One lord had helped to hold Fallon down during the ball, a lady had acted as a spy on Atropa's behalf. Emiliano didn't kill them, but, he realised, there really wasn't much to stop him. In fact, there wasn't anything to stop him. They are so annoying, he thought, watching boredly as another one of them bowed and scraped, I might as well be rid of them forever.

But he'd already promised himself that he wouldn't. “That's enough,” he said. “I won't execute anyone who tells the truth. But from now on all of your houses are stripped of their titles, their crests, their land, and their wealth. Okay, you can go now.”

They practically fled. The guards turned to leave, too, but Emiliano beckoned to the one closest to him. The guard, a pearlcatcher who was now looking increasingly nervous, approached.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

Emiliano rose to his feet and drew his rapier.

“I probably don't need to say it,” he said, deeply appreciative of the panic in the guard's eyes. The scene in the ballroom played out again in the back of his head – the jeering crowd of nobility and the guards, who had been just as complicit. The pearlcatcher guard had been the one to punch Fallon to keep him down. And there was no forgiving that.

Later, Fallon met Emiliano just outside the dining hall.

“There you are – what took you so long?” Fallon said, as Emiliano shut the door in his wake, badly shocking him.

“F-Fallon? What are you doing here?” He quickly thrust his blood-soaked rapier back into its sheath. As Fallon fell into step beside him, Emiliano surreptitiously wiped his hands clean.

“I had to tell you right away,” Fallon said cheerfully, not really paying attention. “Thea got permission to shapeshift from the healers, come on, you have to see her, she's so sweet-”

Excitement wiped away Emiliano's residual surprise. Forgetting the mess he'd left in the dining hall, he grabbed Fallon's hand and led the way back to the royal suite.

[dancesontheedge]

An age and a half ago, @tavsancuk tagged me in a 10 characters in 10 fandoms meme.  I am finally filling it.  I have laid myself some ground rules.  I will choose and present to you, in no particular order, my ten favorite male characters.  I will also include explanations for my picks.  I am strongly considering doing a mirror post with my ten favorite female characters with explanations.  Also, some of them are coming with fic recs.  Sorry not sorry.  Most of those recs will route you to FFN.  That, I am a little sorry about.  Since this is explanation heavy, I’ll put it under a read more.

Finn (Star Wars) This fabulous man turns his back on everything he has ever been taught because he realized it was wrong.  He broke more than a decade’s worth of programming to free Poe Dameron, and then he went back for Rey despite his fear of the First Order.  That takes serious guts, and I have so much respect for his character.

have you heard by peradi Finn sparks a stormtrooper revolution.

Jess Mariano (Gilmore Girls) Jess grew so much over the course of the series.  We did not get to see most of it happening, but he went from a really messed up, angry at the world teenager to a well-adjusted and very successful adult (based on what we’ve seen).  Also, though he and Rory had their issues as a couple, he was the only one of her boyfriends who she did not feel the need to change for.

Of Books and Music by once-was-serendipity.  Instead of cutting off all contact with Rory when he left in season 3, Jess sent books with his margin-notes to Rory.  We see him deal with all of his shit. Pay the Piper by Iscah McKrae.  Immediately after Rory’s disastrous visit to Philadelphia, Shane contacts Jess to tell him they have a daughter who she wants not part of.  Jess winds up taking full custody.  Incomplete. Truths Universally Acknowledged by 12cubed.  A Jane Austen report assigned by Mr. Medina spirals out of control as Taylor announces a Jane Austen festival.  Season 2 style Rory/Jess pining. Tide and Moon by once-was-serendipity.  Jess and Rory’s relationship over seasons 2 and 3 plays out a bit differently.  Mostly, Jess get’s his shit together earlier.  Incomplete.

Zuko (Avatar the Last Airbender) Over the course of the series, Zuko realized that his father was evil and everything he had been taught (by someone not-Uncle-Iroh) was either a lie or immoral.  Once he finished being in denial about it, he took action, ultimately changing sides and working to atone for the wrong he had done when he still believed in his father.

Embers by Vathara.  At the beginning of season 2, Zuko discovers the secret of healing fire, and then things get super AU, super fast.  Lots of worldbuilding, and I swear to god this author’s a goddess.  Has been described as “Atla in the style of Game of Thrones, minus the sex” Mismatched by Kimberly T. In season 1, Zuko discovers an Earth Kingdom baby with mismatched eyes.  Because local superstition claims the baby is a witch-child and bad luck because of it, Zuko adopts him.  This speeds his realization that everything he knows is wrong by quite a bit. Incomplete. Second Nature by lazyartisan.  At the end of season 1, Zuko is captured at the North Pole.  Angst ensues.  Essentially, the author upped the stakes and ignored the “kids show” genre.  Incomplete-ish.  The author told the story she wanted to tell, but ends the story at the end of season 2 rather than resolving everything.  She may eventually update again, she may not. Another Brother by AvocadoLove.  Zuko was scarred much younger than in canon and is found by Chief Hakoda almost dead on a Fire Navy ship.  Hakoda takes him in, and he is raised in the Southern Water Tribe alongside Sokka and Katara.

Steve Rogers (MCU) Steve Rogers’ moral compass is so on point it’s honestly terrifying.  His entire morality basically boils down to “I don’t like bullies or trust the people in power not to be bullies,” and honestly that’s the kind of role model we all could use.  He is uncompromising, but he’s right with an alarming consistency.  And he’s genuine, which warms the cockles of my own way-too-honest heart.  (It should, perhaps, be noted that this is why Benjamin Tallmadge is my favorite Turn character and that these traits are reflected in one of my most formative female characters, Keladry of Mindelen.)

Serenade by CSI Clue. Happy fic.  Steve gets a girlfriend and everything is adorable. Choice is Not a Word a Bullet Knows series by bomberqueen17.  Winter Soldier followup, so much poly capfam, at least one really awesome OC. A Pretty Boy with a Bird Tattoo by Kryptaria and rayvanfox.  Steve/Bucky/Nat OT3, punk college AU.  My favorite of their collaborative works (because Nat), but their other stuff (stucky, all of it) is super awesome too.  Source Code by Closer.  Steve is tired of everyone thinking he’s a robot clone or whatever the conspiracy theory of the week is. Freezer Burn series by Domenika Marzione.  Comics/MCU mashup that follows a different Avenger in each of the major stories. Freezer Burn follows Steve, Thaw follows Clint, Revenant follows Nat.

Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds) Spencer Reid gets put through such shit by the Criminal Minds writers (and the fandom, honestly.  We love to watch him suffer), but he continues to be dedicated to justice and peaceful solutions.  In addition, he is one of the biggest nerds and genius’ on TV, and is generally way less obnoxious and improbable about it than others of his type.  It should be noted that I am not up to date on this show, having missed almost every episode that aired while I was at University, and that I am refusing to watch the current Reid-in-prison-without-his-memory arc.  Because that was a bridge too far.

Foxtrot Whiskey Bravo by Kuria Dalmatia.  Reid and Elle have a friends with benefits relationship.  Very unangsty for my possible Reid picks. The Comstock King’s Daughter by TheKnittingLady.  Reid/OC.  Reid and his date get kidnapped by an Unsub, things go better than they could.  The least depressing/angsty story by this author, the story by this author requiring the fewest content/trigger warnings.  This author is *very* good, but her work is pretty messed up.  Writes almost exclusively Reid-centrics, usually Reid/OC. Liar by Addicted Archangel.  Reid is imprisoned for a crime he did not commit.  Somehow not as angsty/whumpy as the current canon storyline.  Begins with his conviction, ends with his release.

Gilbert Blythe (Anne of Green Gables) Honestly, who doesn’t love Gilbert?  Pining away for Anne and being generally adorable.  No long winded explanation here, but can we all just take a second, think of Gilbert Blythe, and smile?

Blythe Spirit and Unromantic Ideal by Morte Rouge.  The first three books of the Anne of Green Gables Series from Gilbert’s POV.  I promise it’s not repetitive.  Some grammar issues.

Christopher Perry/Halliwell (Charmed) This tortured soul happens to fall right in the middle of one of my favorite tropes: Time Travel.  Chris travels back in time to prevent his older brother, the most powerful witch to ever live, from turning evil and taking over the world.  He lost literally everyone, led the resistance, watched his brother kill his fiance, and when he went back in time was hated by the younger versions of his family for being so driven and not letting them have a life and also for breaking up his mother and father (they, of course, did not know who he was). Also, he’s a sarcastic little shit.  It’s like he’s the definition of my preferred angst-button.

A Pair of Ragged Claws by cunneware.  Wyatt’s most deadly assassin arrives from the future.  It is revealed that she has been magically enslaved by Wyatt, and when that magic is lifted, she decides to aid Chris in his mission to prevent Wyatt from turning evil.  Ultimately, it is revealed that Chris is the sisters’ son/nephew. The Last Horcrux by Stonage Woman.  Crossover with Harry Potter, AU from book 6.  Taking place in the original future where Wyatt is evil, with all the accompanying super-depressing things that come along with that.  Harry is in his 40s, still fighting Voldemort, and essentially adopts Chris.  If you would like to know where my angst-o-meter sits, this one registers at like an 8 of 10.

Edmund Pevensie (Chronicles of Narnia) Edmund is generally a shit in The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe.  Nobody will argue that point with you.  What’s important to me is how he grows.  He decides to become worthy of Aslan’s sacrifice.  He decides to live up to his sobriquet “The Just.”  He acts to atone for his selfishness and live a life of service.

Harold and Morgan: Not a Romance by rthstewart.  This is super a romance.  Edmund got married in Narnia to a banker from the Lone Islands.  It’s adorable, and I’m quite convinced she’s on the autism spectrum. The Stone Gryphon ‘verse by rthstewart.  The Pevensies deal with being back in WWII England, mostly by being ridiculously badass. Not a whole ton of Edmund yet, but it’s awesome, I love everything about it, and could hardly write Narnia recs and not include it. Letting Go by Lirenel.  Prince Caspian AU in which Edmund arrives separately from and substantially before his siblings because he wasn’t holding their hands at the train station. The Ledbury Run by Maddy Carr. Back in England, Edmund and Peter participate in a cross-country race and find in their path a downed German paratrooper.

Simon Tam (Firefly) Simon had it all.  He had money, he had his dream career, he had parents who were pleased as punch to have him as their son.  He gave it all up to rescue his sister from government experimentation and subsequently became a fugitive.  He has some trouble adjusting, as you can imagine, from golden child to desperate man on the edges of society, but he never considers going back.  Not once.  Because his sister was more important to him than all the accolades he could earn.

Alec Hardison (Leverage) Hardison is a hardened criminal.  Ish.  He takes immense pride in his hacking ability and would be offended if I said he was one of the best in the business.  Because he’s the best. But really, Hardison’s a soft touch.  He was the one most easily convinced to join the Leverage team and use his crime powers for good.  His first heist? Hacking into the Bank of Iceland to pay his Nana’s medical bills.  He decided that the Leverage crew was his family, and promptly adopted them all.  He’s the team-builder, the block they all built on.  He provided the space, he provided the nurturing eye, he paid attention to what his team members wanted and gave it to them.  Though he’s a criminal, he’s the moral center of the Leverage crew.  Also he’s a giant nerd and completely hilarious.

The Justice League Job by Eatsscissors.  Casefic about a stolen comic book. Hardison/Parker.

[alyinargentina-blog]

Texas or Iguazu??

Iguazu falls looks like it’s fake, the pictures of it don’t do it justice but seeing it is like seeing something that would only exist in a Disney movie or a bad action movie that needs a cool set to make up for the mediocre acting. Katie and I left Buenos Aires Thursday morning, and sat at the airport getting live updates from her mom about the sentencing of Alec Cook, the UW student who sexually assaulted numerous female students in 2016. He was charged with five felonies and several other additional crimes, with a maximum sentence of 40 years. He got 3. Our justice system is so screwed up it’s revolting. Our flight there was painless, as was the ride into town. Our hostel, from the outside, looked nice enough, it had a lot of cool murals on the walls and our bedroom seemed clean. We hurriedly threw our bags down and retreated into the living room to watch the Argentina world cup game against Croatia, a seemingly meek opponent who turned out to look a lot better than Argentina ever did. 

A painful 2-0 loss later, Katie and I found ourselves with little else to do than go track down a very early dinner. We found a mexican restaurant on google maps and headed there, only to be told it doesn’t open for another hour. We tried entertaining ourselves by shopping and browsing the little markets outside but the town of Iguazu has about as much entertainment as the Wisconsin Dells downtown area, which let me tell you is about zero. There were lots of the same tourist stores filled with overpriced knick knacks, clothing stores with more graphic tees in one place than I’ve ever seen, and a surprising lack of bars where we could sit and sip a beer before we devoured some tacos. Thankfully we found a bar at the end of the main street, got some beer and cornnuts!! and wasted way an hour until dinner. 

The Mexican place was an experience if nothing else, one that involved very little real mexican food. Katie and I have decided that people generally like us: the waiter at the restaurant gave us a huge free plate of chips and dip with more to come later. We ordered some passionfruit daiquiris, which apparently are VERY different than margaritas according to the same waiter, and then our food. Turns out “quesadilla” to an Argentine means a flatbread ham and cheese sandwich, which is not quite what I had in mind, but oh well. The other two tacos we got were good, both of course needed something picante but we can’t expect Argentine sauces to provide that at this point in our semester, that would be asking way too much. After the food, our bestfriend (the waiter) came out with free tequila shots, which we were really not expecting but which were not nearly as deadly as I remember tequila shots being. By this point, Katie and I were sufficiently liquored up, and headed back to the hostel. 

We decided to shower, which in theory is a relatively easy process. False. I ended up falling and severely bruising my hand and elbow because wet tile steps are not a semi-drunk person’s friend. The rest of the night was spent icing my hand and complaining about our professor who had just decided to send the prompts for our final essays that night, two days after he said he was going to and after having the last class be cancelled without any prior notice because the professor decided she had better things to do and “didn’t have time” to text anyone about it. Juan rescheduled the class for this Tuesday, directly in the middle of a very important soccer game, so I will not be attending. Sorry Juan. We went to bed relatively early because no one was at the hostel and there was nothing to do, but nothing in Argentina can go smoothly. In this specific instance, both of our beds were horrifying. As context, our bunk bed was positioned right outside the bathroom that did not have nearly enough ventilation for a sewage system that did not allow for used toilet paper to be flushed down the toilets. The toilet seats were also cushioned, which has nothing to do with the bed situation but is just gross in general. Katie’s bed had patches that smelled very concerning, one of which was right by the pillow, so she got very little sleep. My mattress started leaking fluid, am assuming it’s water because don’t want to think about other possibilities. I didn’t realize this until I moved around to try to get warmer and realized that an entire side of my shorts were drenched, and that my shirt had some wet spots also. I very quickly decided to change beds after that incident. 

Friday was waterfall day! We woke up, had some rice and beans for breakfast, and then walked to the bus terminal to get a ride to the national park. The park entrance was surprisingly inconspicuous for such a big tourist destination, and the entire place really wasn’t too busy, which could have something to do with it being a week day. We got into the park and made our way to the Garganta del Diablo first, which is the biggest waterfall that literally looks like the earth just fell away and there’s a gigantic hole where the ground should be. You can hear the rushing water about twenty to thirty minutes before you can see anything. The trail to get to the walkway out to the waterfall is a gravel road next to the train tracks that transport all of the park’s old visitors to the flatter, easily accessible wire walkway over the river. When we got to the actual walkway, there were more people, many of whom were on guided tours that identified their members with fun matching hats. The walk out to the falls too about twenty minutes. The first thing you see is water seemingly being sucked away, and then the closer you get the more mist you see, and then the falls come into view. Definitely a “wow” moment: you can’t even see the bottom because the water hits with such force that the mist obscures it. It honestly looks like the earth disappeared and the water doesn’t ever hit a bottom. 

After this path, Katie and I decided it was lunchtime, so we headed back to one of the eating areas and attempted to make our sandwiches. However, there was a small blip in these plans thanks to animals called Cuatí. Cuatí are little rodent things that look like a mix between anteaters and raccoons, completely with weird snouts and a long tail that terrorize the tourist at the park and try to steal every single item of food they can get their clawed paws on. Katherine loved them, I hated them. The one time we decided to sit at a table and assemble our lunches, they swarmed, at least ten of them, and almost ran away with our bag of bread. I was horrified. Lunchtime turned into a detour to the only indoor food court in the park so that we could eat in relative peace. 

After lunch, Cuatí free thankfully, we did the lower path at the park, which was gorgeous, and gave us the stereotypical pictures taken at the park, with all of the waterfalls in a row and the rainbow glinting off of the spray from the water. This path was infested by this huge group of what seemed like an extended family on vacation, who would run on the walkway with all of the children, and then stop and take 20 minutes worth of pictures in the middle of the walkway because they apparently all needed a picture at the exact same place. Katie and I thankfully could bypass them, and get up to the last trail, the higher path. This one took us on top of the waterfalls we’d seen from the lower path, and had some cool panoramic views of all of the waterfalls with the Garganta del Diablo in the distance. This was our last trial, so we headed back to the park entrance behind a group of chanting geriatrics led by a man with a can who was zoom-walking and hitting signs with his cane aka an old man gone rogue.

We got back to our hostel to find it infested with a huge group of students from the University of Texas who were in Iguazu for the weekend, and in Buenos Aires for five weeks studying business management. None of them spoke spanish, or were making an attempt to learn it, they had never taken the subte or the colectivo (in fact they knew what neither of those things were), they spent the majority of their time at boliches and bars, and then had the audacity to question why Katie and I were a bit worn out by Buenos Aires. But they also turned out to be very entertaining. Matt, the first Texan that we met, took Katie and I to this light show overlooking the intersection of Paraguay, Brazil, and Argentina, which turned out to be very cool.  He parted ways to go meet his 35 Texan friends at a restaurant that serves Milanesa, something Katie and I get more than enough of with our host moms, so we headed to an outdoor burger place that had some pretty large burgers. 

We got back to the hostel and expected it to be empty: all of the Texans had said they were going to this ice bar that is literally made of ice, and where 300 pesos buys you unlimited drinks for 30 minutes, aka you’re buying the death of your liver. Boy were we wrong: Texas was in full force in Igauzu. They’d taken over the small bar area and were continuing their binge drinking, so Katie and I opened our bottle of wine and retreated to the quiet of the small patio by our room. About ten minutes later, Matt invited us to play Never have I Ever with their group, which got rowdy real quick. We learned more than we needed to ever know about many of the boys in this group, all of whom were freshman which contributed to the absurdity of the entire event. By the end of the night, most of them were absolutely hammered, one of them was asking me why his friends wouldn’t share weed with him, another was not wearing shoes around the hostel, another was defending his decision not to give oral to his girlfriend of 2 1/2 years. 

The next morning, they had to wake up at 7 to go on their guided tour of Iguazu, which meant not only that Katie and I got woken up when all of their 20 alarms went off in our room, but that we got to hear their shouted-whispers about how they were still hammered, had gotten into literal fist fights with their friends the night before, and had no idea what to bring with them to Iguazu. Katie and I stayed in bed for a while longer, ate breakfast, watched some soccer, and then headed to the airport to fly back to Buenos Aires. 

The airport in Iguazu is literally falling apart. It’s partially under construction to “modernize” it but I think that basically means they’re tearing it down bit by bit because it’s barely functional and only has one gate. We got there about an hour and a half before our flight, because according to the guy that worked at the hostel that’s all we needed. But, as per usual in my experiences flying in Argentina, about five families had ten suitcases each, and proceeded to take at least 15 minutes checking them all and arguing about if they could have them in the plane or if they needed to be checked. It took forever to get our boarding passes, but thankfully security took very little time, and we were at the one gate right as our plane was supposed to start boarding. Except it didn’t start boarding for at least another half hour, in which two lines formed, frantic Asian women were asking everyone they could find which line was for Andes Airlines (they both were) and then not believing any of the answers they were given. We eventually got on the plane and flew home, with quite a bumpy landing, but the entire boarding process was a mess. Although Beatriz tried shaming Katie into staying another day in Iguazu to visit these jesuit ruins that turned out to be like on the other end of the province, at least a five hour bus ride away, Katie and I both agreed that one day in the town was more than enough to see the falls and head off to bigger and better (hopefully at least cleaner) places. 

Speaking of bigger and better places, I only have two weeks from today before I fly out and home to Wisconsin. I am very ready to leave. Buenos Aires has been an experience that I think will ultimately be good for me, but right now I basically want nothing more than to be back in a city that I don’t have to worry about getting stolen from every minute, that doesn’t go on strike every other week, that has my dog and my bed and my car and a phone that can do more than one thing at a time.