#six years of sporadic posting

[sappy-seresin]

Fawn (B. Bradshaw)

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x female!reader

Warning: hints at domestic abuse, hints at toxic relations, mentions of injury, angst, light cursing.

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is enamored by the Hard Deck's newest waitress. Taking notice of a shift in your demeanor, he finds himself wanting to get to the bottom of your newfound skittishness.

Series Theme Song: I’ll Be Around by Garrett Kato

Word Count: 5.8k

A/n: MY WORK IS NOT TO BE POSTED ELSEWHERE, especially without consent. Do not steal the work of other writers, thank you.

Gif creds: @mads-weasley

You've always carried yourself with elegant poise, your shoulders high with delicate confidence as you strut your way through life. That’s the first thing Bradley noticed about you, and he’s continued appreciating further the more your presence sealed itself into his life. You’ve been working at the Hard Deck for nearly six months now, and subsequently have earned yourself a space in the Dagger Squad friend group, without being a naval officer. Your space in their lives is a lot like Penny’s, other than the fact that you’re a few years younger than all of them. That fact has had all of them feeling protective over you in their own merit. Each of them have done their fair share of looking out for you, always stepping in when someone was heckling you at the bar or pulling you into the groups antics when you seemed overwhelmed on a busy night. Penny always watches from afar, glad to see you smiling among her favorite squadron.

Admittedly, Bradley loves how easily you melted into the group, and appreciates that everyone seems to care about you nearly as much as he does. He’d never admit it out loud, but you’re the first person he looks for when he enters the Hard Deck. His eyes automatically manage to plant themselves wherever you are when he walks in, an elegant smile taking over his face at the simplest sight of you. You always return the gesture, making a point to pour his drink before he even has the chance to order.

Recently though, your poise has dimmed. Your smiles never quite reaching your eyes when you cater to the aviators beck and call. Bradley attributed the change as stress, at first. The summer months are some of the busiest at the bar and it's your first time experiencing this level of rush. The moment he started picking up on your newfound skittishness, he couldn't shake the feeling that there's more going on than being overworked.

Your confidence is now sporadic, fleeting as you jump at loud noises and sudden movements, always playing it off with a lighthearted joke when any of them question it. He notices the way your smiles falter as soon as the groups focus shifts elsewhere, the facade slipping away when you're sure no one's watching. Yet, Bradley always is, unbeknownst to you, watching your every move. He catches every time you gulp to gain composure and the way your knuckles flash white with how hard you grip your tray after being jostled by a passing customer.

Tonight's no different as Bradley's kept his eyes trained on you from the moment he walked in. He watches you slip through the room in a fawn-like state, doe-eyes jumping around the room as you fade in and out of the shadows. Unlike your old, confident self that always managed to light up the typically muggy space.

“What’s got you lost in thought, Rooster?” Natasha’s voice cuts through his staring, pulling his attention from where you’re delivering drinks across the bar. He glances at her and Bob, who’re both staring back at him curiously.

“Does she seem off to you?” He asks simply, letting his eyes trickle back to you. Natasha’s eyebrows knit together before she follows his gaze, realization filling her immediately.

“Y/n?” She thinks out loud, accepting Bradley’s curt nod as a yes. “I mean, sure. I've noticed she’s been a little more skittish and accident prone than usual lately. What about it?"

Bradley shrugs, sipping his drink, not wanting to overshare a story that isn't his. Though, his mind flashes to the last time you'd spoken, affirming that he'd been right about foul play behind the scenes. Even after you forced another lie to keep yourself from admitting the truth to him in the bar just days ago. "I just feel like something isn't right." They fall into silence, Bob and Natasha accompanying Bradley in watching you. Each searching for any signs of foul play, or make any observation that could give insight on what's going on. The truth is, Bradley knows something isn't right. You confirmed his suspicions three days ago, though you refused to vocalize that he's right.

With his eyes trained on you, Bradley recounts the times you've proven to be 'accident prone' the past several weeks. Wonder fills his brain at memories of you brushing off seemingly small injuries as if they were normal, though you'd barely gotten a scratch in the previous months he'd known you. Bradley's mind flashes to the first time he questioned an injury, his eyes fixated on the soft wrap adorning your wrist as you wiped the counter nearly a month and a half ago. His hand clenches around his drink as he's now able to pinpoint your cover stories, though he has yet to figure out the culprit behind you fabricating those stories.

“What happened there?” Bradley asked, gesturing towards your bandaged hand. His eyes raking over you while you blinked at him for a second, letting a sheepish grin meet your lips.

“Oh this?” You joked, raising your hand absentmindedly. “It’s nothing really. I slipped during a game of one on one and caught myself weird. It looks worse than it is, doc says I need to be in the brace for a few weeks so it’ll heal.” Your voice was light and bubbly, but something in your eyes had Bradley unconvinced that your story was factual.

He took a swig of his beer, clearing his throat as he met your eyes again. Opting not to question you, he smiled. “I guess you need to work on your game.” The gentle laugh you released sent shivers down his spine as he watched you.

“I guess I do,” you agreed, topping him off with another beer before leaving to serve another customer without looking back.

He recounts the second time now. He caught you wincing when you bent down to grab a fresh case of beer you were moving to the back. your tight intake of breath had Bradley feeling uneasy.

“You alright, Darlin’,” his voice showcased the concern he’d been feeling. You grimaced at him, gladly accepting the hand he offered to help you up.

“Yeah,” you breathed, discomfort evident when the case slid against your rib cage. “I tweaked a muscle at the gym last night. Just a bit sore is all.” Your cheeks tinted pink at the twinkle in his eye with all his attention solely focused on you. He pushed himself from his position at the bar, inserting himself behind the counter before lifting the case from your grasp with ease. Your sheepishness grew when he leaned to brush past you, grab the last case before glancing over his shoulder at you.

“Where do you need this?” You gaped at him for a moment, not expecting him to do the work for you, but collected yourself quickly. Leading him to the back instead of responding.

“Here’s perfect,” you told him, gesturing where the other cases were already stacked. He obliged, putting the cases in their designated spot, shooting you a content smile. “Thanks for doing that.”

“Not a problem, darlin’,” he waved off, knowing fully well he’d move a thousand more cases if you needed him to. You blushed again, the gesture melting his heart in the same way it does every time it graces your cheeks.

“Well, I appreciate it,” you reached out to squeeze his arm, the movement making the sleeve of your t-shirt slide up in the slightest. Bradley swears he saw a finger-shaped bruise peeking out just below the worn fabric. He eyes flickering back to your face quickly to keep you from noticing he’d seen anything. “My tweaked muscles do too.”

His mouth felt dry as he studied you, mind reeling about what's hiding behind the inconspicuous lie. Your hand dropped when his grin faltered, suddenly worried that you'd made him uncomfortable.

“I guess you need to work on your form,” he knew he was wearing his emotions on his face, though his tone remained intentionally light. Though he wanted to inspect the blemishes hiding under your sleeve, he knew it wasn’t his place. Mentally though, he pulled you against his chest and gently assured you that he’ll protect you from whoever gave you those bruises.

Your face dropped at his words, hands fidgeting against the fabric of your jeans. “I guess I do,” you agreed, deja’vu hitting you after repeating the words you'd spoken to him weeks prior. You hesitated, realizing that his subtle repetition means that, to a certain degree, he knows your explanations don’t match the truth. The thought of him not believing you made the room shrink around you, blurring Bradley’s figure with the anxiety of him finding out. “I should get back to the bar.” Though you were talking to him, the statement seemed to be whispered to no one before you brushed past him with a forced smile.

The last time he questioned you was just three days ago, and the memory of the sight of you has his hand strangling his glass, his blood boiling when he catches sight of your split lip from across the bar.

He'd been dismayed by the fact that you were, not so subtly, ignoring everyone in the squad that night. He noticed how you always kept your back towards them, sending another server to their table whenever they tried flagging you down. He lost sight of you for awhile, though his eyes never stopped scanning the room, hoping to pinpoint your figure assisting customers somewhere in the crowded room. He thought you left after ten minutes of gruel searching. The belief had his shoulders feeling heavy, his mind reeling with questions as to why you'd been silently swerving everyone all night.

His attempts to find you were forgotten as he came to terms with the fact that you didn't want to be found. Until he excused himself to go to the bathroom, needing a moment to collect himself to escape the thoughts of you.

The plan averted the second he gripped the bathroom door handle, the thick wood flung open before he'd even had a chance to pull. A string of apologies left your lips before you froze, realizing that Bradley was the one you'd nearly taken out with the door.

"Y/n, what-" His words caught in his throat after getting a good look at your face. You gaped at him like a deer caught in headlights, showcasing a bruised cheek and split lip that had him prepared to blow a gasket. His expression tightened as he scanned over the rest of you for anymore blemishes, though there wasn't anything else out of the ordinary. You let the door close with a soft 'smack' unable to cover your stunned demeanor. "What happened to your face?" He cut straight to the point, itching to find the "someone" that hurt you.

You opened your mouth to speak but he waved his hand to stop you.

"Another basketball game or a mishap in the gym?" A gentle sarcasm graced his voice, his eyes indicating that you can't get out of this one without telling the truth. His reference back to your past excuses made your hands shake anxiously.

You blinked at him, pointing a pleading look in his direction. Knowing he wasn't going to drop it, your shoulders deflated, though you weren't ready to accept defeat just yet. Lifting your head high, you wiped the shock from your face and replaced it with tenacity.

"Nasty spill while surfing yesterday," you quipped, no evidence of hesitation in your tone as you blatantly lied through your teeth. You hoped he would respond in the same way he had the last two times you found yourself in these subtle moments of confrontation. Wanting him to crack a lighthearted joke about working on your drop-in's, but you knew he wouldn't so you continued. "My board smacked me right in the face before I could stop it."

He sighed in frustration, ripping at his neat curls before dropping his hand again. You flinched in surprise, unknowingly giving him more belief that his suspicions were right. "Now you're just blatantly lying to me," he sighed, relaxing his face so you could see the sadness in his eyes. "Y/n, if someone's hurting you, I need you to tell me. You don't have to manage this on your own, and honestly, I hate that you don't feel like you can trust me. Let me help you."

"There's nothing for you to help with," you immediately insisted, though your teary eyes told him a different narrative. "I'm just clumsy is all." There was deep conviction weaved in your weak explanation, paired with an unwillingness to shed light on the truth. Which was that your boyfriend, Tanner has a short temper. His latest outburst being the cause of your battered surface and spirit.

"Y/n," Bradley pleaded, stepping closer to you, but you shuffled a step back.

"I have to get back," you rejected his advancement, brushing past him without another glance. He'd been frozen in defeat for the minutes following the chance encounter, staring in the direction you'd retreated with a heavy heart. Shaking himself off, he entered the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, hoping it was enough to rid his face of the worry lines wrinkling his forehead after speaking to you. Though he wanted to find you when he made his way back to the table, he forced himself to sit down, knowing you wouldn't speak to him about the topic and further.

The rest of the squad is seated at the table by the time Bradley's able to pull himself out of his head. Mickey tips his head at Bradley upon noticing he'd tuned back into the conversation for the first time since Mickey had sat down. Bradley musters a wink in Mickey's direction, bringing his cup to his lips to soothe the dryness of his throat, though his eyes subconsciously trickle over to you, mind reeling on how to get you to tell him the truth.

A loud crash sounds from across the bar awhile later, interrupting everyone’s attention away from the story Coyote was telling. Bradley had managed to distract himself from his thoughts enough to actually enjoy the night with the squad, periodically laughing as everyone spouts off ridiculous stories.

Bradley’s eyes flit over the room, expecting to find an old drunk struggling to pull themself off the ground, or maybe even the beginning stages of a brawl. What he doesn’t expect to find is you, standing frozen in place with your face resembling a ghosts. The second you squat down to begin picking glass up off the floor, Bradley’s moving to break the space to help you, eyes caught on the man towering over you with an infuriated expression.

“Where the hell have you been?” The man’s voice rings in Bradley’s ears once he’s close enough to hear. “I’ve been calling for four days, why haven’t you answered?”

“You broke my phone,” you snip. Your annoyed tone contradicts the trembling of your hands as they clumsily gather jagged shards into your hands. “I haven’t had the time to get a new one.”

“Everything okay, Y/n,” Bradley cuts in, sizing up the guy in front of him as you look at him for the first time in days. The man's got a few inches on Bradley, but he’s far from intimidating. The stranger clenches his jaw at the sight of him, his lips curving into an arrogant sneer as he puffs out his chest in Bradley's direction.

“Y/n’s fine,” he answers for you, balling his hands into tight fists. “Right, baby?” The nickname makes Bradley’s skin feel like it’s on fire due to the way it drips off the man’s tongue in a sickly sweet manner. Bradley's known you have a boyfriend for awhile. He was disappointed to find out after Hangman had jokingly tried his chances with you. Your admission of being taken was the sole hold up on him outing his feelings for you, but the sight of the guy shooting daggers at you makes his skin crawl. No man should look at his girl in the way this guy's looking at you.

Bradley watches your hesitant nod, your eyes barely ghosting over him as Penny slides a broom into your hand, helping you off the floor. You quietly thank her, gently assuring her that you’re okay, before returning your attention to cleaning the mess. Clearly wanting nothing more than for your boyfriend to be anywhere but here causing a scene. Penny observes the three of you, mentally weighing whether or not to respect your assurances that you have the situation under control. One nod from Bradley is enough for her to return to her spot behind the bar, assisting the few customers that aren't watching the altercation unfold.

Growing more irate with your lack of attention, the man takes a step toward you. "You want to look at me while I'm talking to you?" Bradley's blood boils at the malice directed at you, his instincts forcing him to step closer to you as well, ready to jump in if he tries to lay as much as a finger on you.

"Tanner, you need to leave. You can't just come in here, guns a-blazing, while I'm working and expect the conversation to go well while you're causing a scene," there's a waver to your voice when you say his name, your attempt to remain composed is only half effective when your eyes jump back to the floor after catching Tanner's icy appearance.

"Where the hell else am I supposed to find you when you're obviously doing everything in your power to avoid me," Tanner snaps, his face glowing red with anger. "I tried your apartment four times and you were never home. So, where the hell have you been?" You instinctively flinch when he raises his hand, shocking Bradley into registering that Tanner's the culprit to blame for your split lip and bruised cheek. Your reaction to him walking into the bar, and now flinching at his sudden movements, is enough affirmation of what Bradley previously suspected.

"Alright man, she told you to leave, so it's time for you to go," Bradley's speaking on autopilot now, stepping forward enough to place his hand on Tanner's chest to keep him from advancing any closer to you.

Tanner sneers at Bradley, his gaze falling to the hand planted on his chest. "I suggest you get your hands off me, before I make you," he snarls, shooting Bradley his best intimidating glare before contorting his face in understanding. "So that's what you've been doing the last few days." He backs out of Bradley's grasp, looking at you with a fake humored expression.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Bradley's eyes follow your voice, noticing the way your eyebrows furrow together in confusion.

"You've been screwing him, haven't you," Tanner accuses pointing a finger at Bradley. "I've been looking all over town for you and you've been fooling around with this prick. Dude, you're wasting your time. She's not even worth it."

Bradley interrupts before you can discount Tanner's words, refusing to let this piece of garbage tarnish your character. "She's worth more than you can comprehend, clearly. I can assure you that she's not fooling around with me, or anyone else for that matter. I know her well enough to know that she wouldn't cheat, even if it's warranted for a guy like you."

"A guy like me," Tanner replays those words, emphasizing them while he gestures toward himself, feigning surprise. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean," Bradley quips, narrowing his brows. He's surprised when Tanner raises his eyebrows, urging him to voice his thoughts. "A guy that's dumb enough to lay a hand on a woman." You suck in a breath at the declaration, your eyes flying to watch Tanner's ego take a hit at the fact that he's been caught. You shudder, knowing full well that Tanner being caught means that your lies are out in the open now.

"My girl, my business," Tanner shrugs, "You're way out of line buddy, and I suggest you-"

“Do we have a problem here,” Bradley’s glad to hear Jake’s voice for once, some of the tension in his own chest alleviating at his colleagues authoritative tone. Jake stands tall as he positions himself in front of your shaken figure, his pointed gaze fixed solely on Tanner. He makes a point to flash his toned biceps by crossing his arms over his chest to add to his hard exterior, letting his eyes do plenty more talking while he sizes Tanner up.

“That’s up to him,” Bradley responds, nodding his head towards Tanner, who looks seconds away from throwing a punch.

“This is so like you, Y/n,” Tanner laughs bitterly, shaking his head. “Letting your friends save you from your own battles instead of handling them yourself like an adult. You get off on being the damsel in distress, don't you?” He's glaring at you over Jake's shoulder, seemingly unfazed by the aviator acting as a human shield.

"Y/n's more than capable of handling herself," Jake assures Tanner, tightening his expression. "But here at the Hard Deck, we have a strict "no harassing women" policy, and you're disrupting the peace." Jake's eyes fall on Reuben and Javy who are now on standby behind Tanner, prepared to restrain him if necessary. Reuben gives him a curt nod, winking at you for a little extra encouragement. They've got you covered. "Now, you have two options. You can either walk yourself out of the bar, and leave my friend Y/n here alone. Or, I'll drag you out and let Rooster have his way with you." Jake pauses again to give Tanner a second to process what he said. "I can assure you that only the former is going to end well for you."

"Now you're threatening me? You seriously think I'm afraid of a few boys in pansy ass navy uniforms?" Tanner's expression grows more manic with his incredulous words, unable to keep himself from chuckling in disbelief.

The response is enough to make Jake snap, his arms falling to his sides as he swiftly nods at Javy and Reuben as a cue for them to move. "Alright, parties over buddy." Tanner thrashes the second the men intercept him, easily dragging him towards the door.

"You bitch," Tanner shouts, eyes locked on you while he lamely tries freeing himself from their grasp. He has a clear shot of you now that Jake's not planted in front of you. Instead, he's trailing behind the three of them as a form of damage control if a last line of defense if necessary. "You'll pay for this."

Bradley shifts to dart in Tanner's direction, his slow burning anger transforming into full-blown rage at the mans threat toward you. Though, his movements freeze when a hand grasps his forearm, his fiery eyes meeting your tearful ones as the ruckus in the room fades from his ears. The room around him spirals out of focus with you being all that he sees as he struggles to refrain from ripping away from you to beat Tanner until he forgets your name.

Your touch is feathery while you blear at him. He swears he's going to light on fire until you utter the only request that could possibly cool him down. "Please, stay with me." Bradley immediately returns to a grounded state, the thoughts of giving Tanner a piece of his mind dimming while you wordlessly beg him not to leave you alone. "Please, Bradley." Those words are all it takes for him to break the space, shamelessly pulling you against his chest to shield you from anymore hurt. You fall against him in exhaustion, your hands fisting the soft Hawaiian button up he's wearing to give yourself more assurance that he's there.

"I'm not going anywhere," he murmurs into your hair after a few moments of holding you. You're sniffling into his chest while the atmosphere of the bar returns to normal, the onlookers suddenly feeling wrong about watching you break in Bradley's embrace.

Bradley easily flags Penny down with an urgent look, grateful that she stops what she's doing to assist him. "I need to get her out of here," he informs her in a hushed voice once she's close enough to hear. She wordlessly nods in understanding, sadness crossing her features at the sight of you practically rattling in his arms. "The glass is all in one place and just needs to be thrown away."

"I've got it covered, go," she encourages him, noticing that the three who'd taken Tanner outside have yet to return. "I'll have Pete pull your truck around back so you don't have to worry about any confrontations."

"Thanks Penny," Bradley hums, making sure not to jostle you too much while passing his keys to her. You lift your head to thank her as well, mustering a delicate smile as she carefully squeezes your arm in reassurance.

"Take care of my girl, Rooster," she commands lightheartedly, but he picks up on the weight behind her statement.

"Of course," he breathes, running his hand up your back to get your attention. "Ready to go, darlin'?" You bob your head in response, itching to get out of the sticky bar after having far too much attention on you. The interaction with Tanner replays in the back of your mind while Bradley guides you toward the back door with his hand rested on the small of your back.

Pete already has the Bronco parked by the back door when you guys reach the exit. He pulls the door open just before Bradley's able to reach it, stepping aside to let you two pass before bowing his head at Bradley.

"Appreciate the help, Mav," Bradley affirms, which Pete just shrugs off as a silent way of telling Bradley it's the least he could do. Pete makes sure you're both in the car before walking back inside, sympathy overtaking him at the image of you deflating in your seat.

The car ride is comfortably silent outside of natural road noise. The fact that Bradley has no idea where you live dawned on you about ten minutes into the drive, but you don't bring yourself to ask where he's taking you. Preferring not to be anywhere that Tanner can find you.

Your friendship hasn't gone much farther than hanging out when he visits the bar, other than the few times Natasha invited you to meet everyone at her place when you got off. Oh, and the movie night everyone had at Bob's when you offered to be their DD when they'd still been around by last call. Yet, you trust Bradley enough to feel at ease as he navigates the nearly vacant streets of San Diego.

"We're here," Bradley announces, putting the Bronco in park after pulling into his driveway. He glances at you with a comforting smile, rushing to hop out so he can open your door for you. You gracefully accept the hand he offers you, climbing out of the truck timidly. His hand finds a home on the small of your back again, acting as a guide while he leads you to the front door and lets you both in.

"Your place?" You think out loud, as he unlocks the door, gesturing for you to enter before him. He grins, suddenly feeling sheepish as he drops his keys on the small table next to the door.

"Yeah," he nods, scratching his neck. "I figured you shouldn't go home. Is this okay? I can take you somewhere else if you want."

"This is perfect," he blows the air out of his cheeks at your assurance, making a point to lock the door before guiding you to the living room. He gestures to the couch, which you gladly plop down on, relishing in the plush comfort of the cushions while Bradley watches you.

"Can I get you anything? There's water, tea, and probably even a few beers left from the last time the guys came over," Bradley curses himself for sounding so soft, though you don't seem to mind.

"Water would be great," your supportive smile is the first Bradley's seen all night, sending his stomach twisting in knots as he retreats to the kitchen. While he's gone, you take time to study the living room, your smile widening at the old family photos with his parents along with various pictures of the squad scattered across the shelves. The room is tidy and smells subtly of cologne, it's coziness urging you to melt further into the couch.

Bradley freezes in the doorway, secretly admiring how cozy you look in the safety of his house. I'm screwed, he thinks to himself, shaking his head to rid himself of being awestruck by you. You glance in his direction at the sound of his feet shuffling across the floor, graciously accepting the glass he slides in your hand.

"Thank you," you whisper, clearing your throat after taking a sip of the cool water before placing the glass on the coffee table in front of you. Your body stretches back into the couch as Bradley fills the space next to you, making a point to leave enough room so that you don't feel claustrophobic.

A thick silence falls over the room, neither of you knowing what to say now that you're alone. The impending conversation weighs on both of your shoulders while the two of you look everywhere other than at each other. Bradley speaks after several moments of grueling silence, unable to bare the elephant in the room.

"I'm so sorry for not vocalizing my suspicions sooner," the apology surprises you, not having anticipated the softness of his response. Part of you assumed he was going to be angry with you for not fessing up and asking for help when you had the chance. "I mean, I know you don't play basketball, and then I saw those bruises on your arm, but I didn't feel like it was my place to pry. I should've just said something before he had more chances to hurt you." He frowns at the newest blemish on your lip, scabbed but still fresh with only being a few days old. The bruise on your cheek has faded into a dull yellowish green, time giving it enough time to kickstart the healing process.

"It's my own fault. I was dumb to ever get involved with him," you croak, downcast eyes trained on the floor. "My friends told me he was a walking red flag and I didn't listen. I willingly fell into his trap on my own accord. So please, don't apologize for not saying anything sooner because it's been my fault all along. Your questions were all I allowed you to do."

"Hey," Bradley whispers, wordlessly asking for consent to cup your jaw in his hand, his thumb gently swiping the tear gliding down your blemished cheek after you nod in approval. "None of what he did to you is your fault. You hear me? I don't want to hear you blaming yourself for a man that didn't know the first thing about treating you right." Bradley's voice is gentle as he addresses you, not leaving any room for you to feel insecure in being with him. He never wants you to feel small again, and you won't as long as he has anything to do with it. "He had no business laying his hands on you in a way that misconstrued love as violence. The blame is solely for him to carry, not you. Okay?" His eyes plea that you absorb everything he's telling you. He needs you to understand that Tanner is the perpetrator at fault, not you. The tears flooding your cheeks are indication that you're grasping what he's telling you, but he has to be sure.

"I need to know that you're hearing me Darlin'," the statement is more of a request as he wipes at more of your tears, his heart quenching at the subdued sob that forces its way out of you. All you can do is nod, not trusting your voice. "I need to hear you say it."

"I'm hearing you, Bradley," you sniffle, stammering over the knot in your throat. "The blame isn't mine." With that, more choked sobs erupt from your body, encouraging Bradley to pull you into his lap without caring whether it's the appropriate move or not. Your lack of opposition assures him that you're okay with him holding you while you come unglued in his embrace for the second time.

Countless encouragements that he's got you and that you're going to be okay quietly float from his lips while you melt into him. The innocent closeness brings you a small sense of the relief you're craving. His softness allows you to feel safe enough to simply let yourself accept the truth and feel all of the emotions you've been numbing as a form of self preservation for the last few months. For the first time in months, the breaths filing your lungs aren't clouded by heaviness because an inescapable weight has lifted from your chest. You bask in the weightlessness of your breathing, the sensation bringing a fresh round of relieved tears. Your sobs transition into meek sniffles as Bradley patiently comforts you, his own tension releasing when he senses that you're going to be okay.

"Thanks for rescuing me," you murmur after a few moments of quiet, thankfully allowing him to rid your cheeks of the final evidence of tears. Bradley loses his own breath when his eyes fixate on you again. Though your eyes are bloodshot and glazed from crying, cheeks flushed with a delicate pink tint, Bradley swears you've never looked more beautiful.

His hand tenderly cups your cheek again, his eyes the softest they've been all night as he drinks the sight of you in. The rational side of him wants to curse himself for being so enthralled by you at such an unfortunate time. You just experienced one of the most humiliating nights of your life, and spent the last twenty minutes broken in his arms for God's sake. But all rationality escapes him as he soaks you in, completely defenseless against the relentless adoration beating against his ribcage.

"I'll rescue you any time it's needed Darlin'," he promises, and you know he means it. You bask in the comfort of his arms for the rest of the night, enjoying the lighthearted conversation and the way he seems comforted by your presence. In the dim light of the room, with a TV show softly playing quietly in the background, you eventually lull to sleep, Bradley's steady heart beat being the last thing you remember before succumbing to the delicate darkness.

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A/N: That's it!! My first TGM fic is on the books!! I've got various works in the making, but this one flowed so naturally as I was writing and I'm ecstatic to share it.

There's a part two dancing in the back of my mind, but I'll let feedback and continued inspiration decide whether or not the story continues or ends here.

PART TWO IS IN PROGRESS

Tagging some moots/pages that I enjoy. Feel free to request whether or not you'd like to continue being tagged in future fics <3

Tags: @glen-powells @bradleybeachbabe @writingshae @happilycameron @rosiahills22 @roosterforme @avaleineandafryingpan @fandomxpreferences @fanboygarcia

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

I just wanted to drop a note to thank everyone who has supported the Patreon over the years, or signs up for things like my (free) Substack. It really means a lot.

I update both of those platforms infrequently. I’ve tried to build better habits about that over the years and continually run into the same problem: I don’t want to post anything about what I’m working on unless I’m 110% sure my opinions is informed as possible and I am not sharing anything erroneous. There is so much misinformation out there regarding animals in general and zoos and exotic animal politics especially that I absolutely do not want to add to it.

What that means in practice is that topics often take months to years to research, and big projects need multiple years to end up with something I’m comfortable publishing. (That accreditation reporting writeup was an idea I chewed over for easily two years prior to starting work; then it took spent six months to researching write it up). I have one project in the wings where I can’t even start a major part until Feb 2024, because data collection has to happen after the implementation of a new set of federal regulations. These things are great for creating quality work, but less good for providing people who are supporting your work with something tangible on a reasonably frequent basis.

Also, at this point? Most of my current big projects are so complex - and such novel things to study about the zoo industry - that I’m taking the extra time to really cross every t and dot every i with the research, and then get them peer-reviewed through credible academic journals. I think there’s four or five different projects that will be papers I’m working on simultaneously (and sporadically) right now. And as many of you know, this is a hobby, not a paying profession.

So. Thank you for sticking around through the long silences and the intermittent publications. I have so much I want to talk about, but it has to wait until I can do it right. I have so many cool things planned (like, multiple interactive websites) for once everything is finished and published. Whether or not you’re on the Patreon or just awaiting infrequent Substack updates, I really appreciate all of it.

[yeongwonie]

CAT & DOG ♡ sim jaeyun

SYNOPSIS a year after his notorious 10 months ending fairy, jake is confident that the occasional jokes and furry allegations have subsided. he's wrong, unfortunately, and no amount of teasing from his members could've prepared him for his ult—you—seeing the video.

PAIRING sim jake x f!reader

GENRE idol au, strangers to lovers, fluff, humor

WARNINGS cursing, a little secondhand embarrassment + specific warnings will be added to each chapter if necessary!

FEAT stayc, enhypen, txt taehyun

STATUS in progress! sporadic updates ^^;

note second smau and it's for jake!! i had the idea for this from a convo w/ @yyunari​ nd here we are ig..... i hope u enjoy ^^ timestamps are accurate but u don't have to pay attention to them! + pls send an ask if u want 2 be tagged! if you reply to a post i'll try to add u but i may not see it

profiles. one / two one. my life is over two. #jake_IN #IForgiveHim three. womp womp womp four. my hands are trembling five. y/n interacted x2 six. good things happen to bad people :/ seven. we don't know her eight. i m*** h** nine. they need our help ten. bitchful eleven. like that one song twelve. who want me thirteen. you are not the love doctor fourteen. early onset tinnitus ↳ bonus. rain check? fifteen. sixteen. seventeen. eighteen. nineteen. twenty.

taglist (open)! @.chiyuv @.igotkpoops @.jangwonie @.enhacolor @.enhyphoria @.yeppeudau @.kaeslily @.viagumi @.beans-and-jeanes @.fairybangtan @.starzvrse @.winteringdream @.theandrogynisticcat @.kazuhugs @.en-boyz @.youta @.soobins-gf @.wonamore @.ahnneyong @.wonhrs @.bluesoobinnie @.junnniiieee07 @.renaishun @.i4cho @.yoonssungs @.caty-catts @.onedreampalette @.lalalalawon @.precioussoulofmine @.notdrunkbutdazed @.heesflor @.msxflower @.simjakeissohot @.harperwasstaken1 @.carayat @.ikeuwons @.shyugahh @.rendezrei @.wonniesimp @.yanniediaries @.bubblytaetae @.theskzvibe @.sung5oon @.luviehyck @.soobsdior @.mintydayeon @.shinsou-rii @.i-yeseo @.ily-cuz-i @.exatse

taglist 2! @.cosmicwintr @.cwsana @.jakelux @.calumsfringe @.02zluvbot @.iloveoceaneyes @.ineedaherosavemeenow @.jinsoulirl @.yizaevis @.shigamiryuk @.butterflyy-ningg @.yunki4evr @.wonieleles @.renjunn1es @.yizhoutv @.oowon @.yunhowooyo @.thisisnotjacinta @.ohnle @.flwrsforriki @.artstaeh @.hyunniecrush @.bigtoewinwin @.liliansun @.kolvg @.revemixer @.bibinnieposts @.desiree62 @.yjwluvs

[ssuperficialspacecadett]

The Sunshine State

Chapter One of the Through the Scope series | Chapter Two

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4K

TW: Mentions of sexual assault in readers past, mentions of drug (cocaine) use

Chapter Overview: You're desperately looking for a job when one falls right into your lap.

Notes: I have decided to try my hand at writing for Frankie (: He is my favorite Pedro character after all. I don't have a posting schedule, so chapters will be coming at you sporadically. I apologize in advance for that (uni is outrageously time consuming). I hope this first chapter gets your interest peaked for whats to come ! Happy reading <3

*No use of y/n & female presenting reader*

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The serene music that is emitting from the coffee shop speakers is doing nothing for your nerves. Maybe that is due to the fact that you were on your third cup of coffee in two hours or maybe it is that you have already been in Florida for a week and still haven’t found a job. You blow a strand of hair out of your face and continue staring at the seemingly endless job applications on your computer. You find yourself cursing under your breath for the thousandth time that day. Why couldn’t you find a job you liked? When the words on your screen start to blur together, you lean back in your chair and let out a heavy sigh. You need to remember why you were here in the first place: your dads recovery. 

After your mom died a few years ago, dad decided to move into a retirement home. He realized how hollow the ranch house was without her life enhancing presence and opted to venture to Florida. You were cross with him for up and abandoning you, but you tried your hardest not to let your resentment show. Her death hit him the hardest. He seemed to be doing well whenever you visited him over the holidays. Unfortunately, it was an illusion. You mom’s constant nagging at him to stay on top of his diabetes died with her. 

As soon as you got the call you were on the next plane to Florida. He had suffered a stroke that left his walking impaired. The two of you fought back and forth about your being there. He didn’t want you to have uprooted your life back in Texas, but it wasn’t up for debate. Hair and eye color weren’t the only shared traits between y’all, stubbornness was just as deeply ingrained in your DNA as it was in his. An agreement was reached between you after a tear filled argument. You would reside in Florida for six months, the amount of time when the most progress is made for stroke patients, and then leave. Unable to live in his retirement home, you found a cheap apartment the next day. 

You drain the last bit of coffee from your cup and close your laptop. As much as you dreaded going back to your empty apartment, you couldn’t stay here any longer. You place your laptop back in its case and slip it into your tote bag. The buzzing of your phone snaps your attention back to the table.

“Hey Robbie!”

“Hey! How’s the sunshine state treating you?”

You let out a low groan. Robin, or Robbie as you lovingly dubbed her, was your best friend and roommate back home. You had very little emotional connection to your home state, but Robbie was your life line. She was there for you when your mom died and then when your father subsequently left. You didn’t know how she managed to be so attentive to you and juggle law school at the same time. You owed her a debt you could never repay.

Your attention gets pulled away from the call when a group of women sitting in the corner of the coffee shop start laughing and talking loudly together. For a brief moment you try to picture yourself sitting and laughing along with them. Robbie, the ever logical one, pulls you from your delusion. 

“Are you still there?”

“Fuck. I’m sorry. God, it's so lonely here without friends. Don’t get me wrong I love spending time with my dad, but when I’m done visiting with him I just come home to an empty, barely furnished apartment.”

“I told you that I would come visit you over my spring break.”

“I know, but that's over two months away.”

“Why don’t you spend your free time looking for a man? Maybe you will have better luck there than back home.”

“I don’t have time!,” you counter. “I have been here a week and I still haven’t found a new job. How am I supposed to pay rent, furnish my apartment, or even feed myself if I don't have a job? My savings is only going to last so long. Besides, all the men that I have interacted with so far are practically geriatric.”

“You always did like em’ older.”

The two of you talk for a little while longer. She manages to pick your spirits up despite her teasing you. She lets you know that she has to run because one of her lectures is starting soon, but she promises to call you back later this week.

You stand up and place your phone in your back pocket. You easily slip your tote onto your shoulder and gather up the empty cups you collected over your time in the shop. While you walk to the trash a bright orange flier pinned to the corkboard above it catches your eyes.  

HELP WANTED

Receptionist for Brass Knuckles Boxing Gym

432 Peach Dr, Jacksonville, FL 32246

Contact Ben Miller at (904) XXX-XXXX

Starting pay: $20.00

Honestly, you ponder, you have nothing to lose. Beggars can’t be choosers. Plus you recognize that street. It wasn’t a far drive from where you are now which means that it’s close to your apartment. The pay was higher than minimum wage and being a receptionist couldn’t be that hard. You toss your trash into the bin and pull out your phone to dial the number. The ringing of the phone next to your ear muffles the sounds of the still laughing group of women as you exit the coffee shop. 

“Brass Knuckles, this is Benny speaking.”

The subtle southern accent that comes through your speaker washes a wave of calmness over you. Maybe you did have some attachment to back home.

“Hi,” you introduce yourself to him. “I saw your flier for needing a receptionist at your gym. I was wondering if you were still hiring?”

“We are! Would you like to come in and tour the place right now?”

You take a peek at the time displayed on your phone. 3:15 P.M. You should have enough time to check it out and then head to your dad’s before the after work traffic rush.

“Actually that would be great.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you soon then!”

***

The gym was a stand alone building constructed of rough looking red brick. It had large windows that allowed you to see some of the equipment and, more importantly, the front desk. You hop out of your car and check both ways before crossing the parking lot. As you turn your head from right to left you see a bar across the street. The rickety, wooden sign on the building has a shotgun painted onto it and the bar’s name, The Barrel, is appropriately painted onto the barrel of the gun. At least you know where to go to get a drink now if you don’t get this job. You take a deep breath and swing open the glass door to the gym. 

A sharp ring of the door’s bell and the potent aroma of sweat and cheap men’s body spray are the first things that greet you as you enter the building. You swear that if you get this job, fixing the odor in this place will be one of the first orders of business you carry out. You look over at the front desk as you wait for Benny. It is positioned to sit squarely in the middle of the lobby. There is a brick wall, the same type as the outside, directly behind it. The back wall only extends as far as the desk does. This makes for two entrances into the gym. One on the right and one on the left of the desk. 

“You made it! Thanks for comin’!”

You shift your gaze from the white blocked lettering on the brick wall that reads “Brass Knuckles Boxing Gym” to where the voice rang out from. You're stunned when a man rounds the corner shirtless and out of breath. Good fucking god he’s toned. He smiles boyishly at you and pushes his grown out, sandy hair back. He turns his head to see what caught your eye.

“You like the new sign? I paid someone to paint it on the brick a few weeks ago. It looked so empty before.”

“Y-yeah, it's lovely.” 

“See?!,” he throws his hands up exasperatedly. “The guys said it was stupi-that’s not important now. Anyway it’s good to meet you in person. Wanna start the tour?”

You nod at him and he waves at you to follow him back into the gym. He points out each of the stations he has set up. 

“We have machines for your legs here. Then in that corner are machines for your upper body and core. Our heavy bags are kept in this area. I also have some weight benches set up over there for people to use on lighter workout days.” 

You’re trying to soak up everything that he is saying, but to be honest, most of the machines look the same to you. He takes you to view the showers, the laundry room, and to his back office.

“When I’m not training with a client I’ll usually either be here in my office or in there with a heavy bag on a stand.” He points behind you.

The center of the gym holds its crown jewel: the boxing ring itself. The walls of it are made from a red, tarp like material and the center of the ring is a deep shade of blue. Poles, wrapped in white padding, protrude from each of the four corners and four rows of thickly braided, white rope encase the entire thing. 

“I’ve never actually been in one of these before to be honest.” you laugh. “I’ve only ever seen them on T.V. when I’m channel surfing and land on WWE.” 

“No way,” he looks genuinely shocked.

“Yes way.” you shrug apologetically. 

“Being in there is electric, man. Gotta be one of the best feelings in the world hands down.” 

You feel at ease talking with him. He seems really passionate about what he does and all that goes into it. You give the gym another once over and then it dawns on you; it’s a ghost town. 

“Hey, where is everybody?”

“It’s usually pretty slow around this time of the afternoon. Our busiest times during the week are when people come in here around 12:00 P.M. to burn off steam during their lunch breaks and then after 5:00 P.M. when work gets out. Saturdays are packed most of the time because we aren’t open on sundays.

“Ahh.”

“But all hell breaks loose when we have our famous Friday Fight Nights!,” he nudges you in the ribs. “There isn’t a free seat in the whole damn house! People screamin’, beer sloshin’, bets bein’ made. It’s my bread and butter.”

“That sounds insane, Benny.”

“You mean you have never heard of it before?”

“I moved here a week ago actually. I’m sure I would have heard of it if I had just been here longer!”

“Alright, you get a pass. What made you choose Florida to call home?”

You normally don’t like telling people your personal business so soon after meeting them, but Benny has a trustworthiness about him that you can’t ignore. Maybe making friends would be easier than you thought.

“I moved here to help my Dad actually. He’s having some medical issues and I want to be here to help him work through them. I figure that I’ll be here for maybe six months? I’m not sure if that would work for you though. That’s kinda the reason I’ve been struggling to find a job.”

He looks at you with genuine understanding.

“If six months is all you can give me then I’ll take it.”

“Wait? I got the job?”

“It’s perfect if you think about it. You need a job and I need a receptionist ASAP. If you want, since you’re new and all, I could be your tour guide. Born and raised here.”

A weight seems to immediately lift off your shoulders. If he wasn’t such a sweaty mess you would have given him the biggest hug.

“Okay, great!”

He claps his hands together. “Drinks on Santi tonight!”

“Santi?”

“He’s one of my older brothers and I’s friends. He bet that I couldn’t get a receptionist within a week of the last one leaving and you just helped me prove him wrong.” 

“I’m happy to help. Do you mind if I ask why your last receptionist left?”

That wipes the giddy look off his face.

“Well,” he scratches the back of his head. “She ended up leaving because she said some of the patrons were a bit too forward. I asked her to tell me which ones so I could ban ‘em, but she wouldn’t give ‘em up. I totally get it if that changes your mind about taking the job.”

Your throat goes dry as an icy tingling sensation makes itself known on your skin. Fuzzy images of unwelcomed hands being a bit too forward as you lay on the couch. The smell of tequila burning your nose as he whispers to you. Clinging to the sounds of the movie he put on in the background to distract you.

“You alright?”

“Yes!,” you rush out too quickly for him to believe. “I’m fine. I just zoned out for a second there. I’m sure I’ll be fine. Plus I promise that I will tell you if anyone tries anything.”

He seems satisfied with your answer and walks back up to the front desk with you.

“You want to come get drinks with me and the guys tonight? It’s going to be me, which you already know, my brother Will, Santi, and Frankie. We usually go to The Barrel. You would be the guest of honor.”

“I’m flattered, but,” you look at the time on your phone. “I should head out before traffic gets bad.”

“Next time, next time. You already have my number so just text me and I’ll let you know what time you can come in on Monday. Don’t worry about the rest of this week. I can hold it down until you officially start.”

***

“Dad, I needed a job and I found one. What's the issue?”

He puts his hand up to let you know he is catching his breath. You sit in a chair next to him while he rests in between his physical therapy. The exercises mainly consisted of his physical therapist, Maggie, working the muscles in his legs. Even still, they took a lot out of him. He was still a ways away from standing or walking on his own. 

“The issue is that you’re going to be the only woman in a place full of men on steroids. I don’t like that.”

“God, that's such a you thing to say,” you argue. “I’m not a little girl anymore. It’s also not a male only gym, dad. A lot of women work out and take boxing classes too. The manager, Benny, seems really nice. He was the one I met with earlier today.”

You watch as he opens his mouth to presumably hurl a retort your way, but he stops himself. Your heart breaks as he sighs and turns away from you. He hasn’t been himself since the stroke. You know that you can’t even begin to understand what he is going through, yet you’re trying. The anger he is feeling isn’t directed at you, but it still hurts nonetheless. He is a proud man at heart, so all of this attention and fretting over him must be weighing heavy. You extend your hand and place it softly on top of his. Although he is still looking away from you, his brows unfurrow and his lips fall from the tight line he held them in.

“I’ll be fine. I promise. I told you that I would be here with you for your recovery and that's what I intend to do. This isn’t a little issue, dad.”

He turns to look at you again, eyes glossy from fighting back tears. “I know, I just-I just feel like a damn burden.”

“You aren’t,” you squeeze his hand. “Everyone needs help sometimes and now it's your turn. You took care of me my whole life. The very least I could do is be by your side right now.”

A soft knock on his room door pulls the two of you out of your conversation.

“Hi, hon. I don’t mean to interrupt, but I need to finish Greg’s session.”

“That’s fine, Maggie. I was about to head about anyway.”

You stand up from your chair and give him a hug before you collect your purse. He reminds you that he has his poker tournaments on Sundays, so you didn’t have to come in to see him then. Getting ditched for a deck of cards and a bunch of old dudes. That’s gotta be a new low. You wave at Maggie as you pass her while heading to the door.

“Hey, sweet pea?”

You turn around to a name that you have been called since before you can even remember.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

***

The Barrel is unsurprisingly empty on a Thursday night. Benny, Frankie, Will, and Santi all sit at their usual table in the back corner of the bar. The small army of empty beer bottles huddled in the middle of their table makes up for the lack of local patrons in the building.

“She seems really great. Even complimented the way ‘Brass Knuckles Boxing Gym’ looked painted onto the brick. I told y’all it wasn’t stupid. It also doesn’t hurt that she's beautiful, man.” 

Santi lets out a low whistle before tipping his still half full beer in Benny’s direction. “I’ll drink to that.”

“I don't think you're going to be able to break this one man. She’s got a lot on her plate so the last thing she needs is a piece of shit like you comin’ in and adding more trouble.”

Will and Frankie snicker at Santi’s face that shows faux offense to what Benny just said.

“I enrich the life of every woman I meet. No one has ever left my bed unsatisfied.”

“A lot on her plate?” Will chimes in to direct the conversation into a more appropriate one. “What does that mean?”

Frankie nods his hat in the direction of Will signaling that he is thinking the same thing about you as well.

“Yeah. She was talking about how she moved down here to help her dad. Said he had an accident or somethin’.” 

“Think she will be able to boost Friday ticket sales?”

“For the love of God, Pope,” Will laughs and shoves the man sitting next to him. “Can you get your mind out of the gutter for two fuckin’ seconds?”

“No, he’s onto something, Will,” The other three men can see a plan unfolding in the reflection of Benny’s eyes. “If I can get her to double as my ring girl for the fights we would be swimming in it boys.”

Benny tells them that he had invited you to come celebrate with them, but you had plans already. The more he talked the more curious the group was to meet you. 

“Why don’t you let Fish get a word in, huh?” Santi interrupts. 

Benny puts his hands up in surrender and turns to the man sitting beside him at the table. Frankie had been quiet since they closed up the gym for the night and headed to the bar.

“What’s wrong, Fish? Cat got your tongue?” Benny jokes.

“Fuck off, man.” 

“Yeah, what’s up? We are celebrating tonight.” Santi adds.

Frankie downs the last of his beer. It isn’t cold anymore due to the fact that he had it in an iron grip.

“Rochelle texted me,” a unified hush fell over the table of four. “She said she wants to get back together. That she wants to ‘make it work’ this time.”

Benny is the first to break the silence.

“Rochelle? God I hate that woman and I’ve never hated a woman in my fuckin’ life.”

“Shut up, Benny,” Will grumbles in the direction of his younger brother. “What are you going to do, Fish?”

“I don’t know. I miss her. I just- she’s just- I don’t want to relapse.”

Another silence envelops the men. Each and everyone of them knew what he meant. After Frankie got out of his last tour he fell into the arms of the first woman that came along. They all knew she wasn’t the one for him, but he hadn’t been happy in such a long time so they let it slide for as long as they could. Then the coke came into the picture. Benny tried, Santi tried, and Will tried to get him to cut her off. He was spiraling and didn’t even realize it. When he was on coke he didn’t remember all of the horrible things that he did and that he saw. It felt like he was on top of the world, until he fell right into the unforgiving ground of reality. 

He failed a routine drug test at work. They fired him right on the spot and put his pilot's license under review. Ironically flying was the only thing that kept him grounded. Now that he didn’t have it the guys knew they had to help him. They managed to convince him to cut Rochelle out of his life. Then they urged him to check into a rehab, even if it was a temporary one. Once he got out, he found a job at an auto body shop. It wasn’t aviation, but it was a start. He had been clean ever since. Seven months to be exact. But even the sight of seeing her name light up his phone screen made his body ache for a fix.

“We didn’t let you drown the first time, Fish. We won’t let you drown this time.”

Will’s words hit him like a ton of bricks. He knows it's true. They never once gave up on him through the entire thing. The only thing Frankie can do is tip his worn, black cap in Will’s direction. Benny lovingly claps him on the back and then the conversation is put to bed. 

While the rest of the men move on with their night, Frankie can’t seem to turn his brain off. All he can think about are his two vices: Rochelle and Florida snow. He can already hear the water beckoning to him. Calling his name in that alluring, all too familiar voice. Begging him to come back and be cradled by the waves until they swallow him whole.

“Everyone shut up. She texted me.” Benny exclaims.

They all lean in to look at what you sent him.

“She’s just asking about the schedule, dumbass.” Santi scoffs. “Have her send a picture.”

“And how the fuck am I supposed to ask for a picture without sounding creepy?”

“You could tell her that you need a picture to use for her login profile at work?” Frankie offers, desperate to distract his mind from his own thoughts.

“Fish, you’re a Goddamn genius.”

Santi gets up to buy another round for the table while Benny crafts his text to you. He hits send only after he has gotten the green light from everybody. They all wait anxiously for the next few minutes until they see your name appear on the phone screen. Benny scrambles to type in his password as the guys all crane their necks to see a glimpse of the photo. 

“You way undersold her, Benny. She’s gorgeous.” Santi marvels and Will agrees.

“Wow,” is all Frankie can muster as he looks at you. He tries to memorize everything about you. The way your hair falls, how kind your eyes are, and how soft your lips look. He feels his ears burn as he looks at your nose and wonders what it would be like to kiss you on the bridge of it. With each new thing he finds on your face to admire, the water’s voice gets quieter and quieter until it's nothing but a whisper. Still there, but only a whisper.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[lumiolivier]

So is the Life of a Pirate (2/?)

Series: One Piece

Chapter: 2/?

Word Count: 5039

Rating: T

Pairing(s): Sanji x OC (Reader)

A dalliance six years ago has a funny way of catching up to Sanji when the Straw Hats stop to restock the ship.

[1]

a/n: Wowie! I didn't expect this to get the attention it did, but you guys seem to like it, so I'll keep on posting sporadically like this. Maybe every couple days. Yeah? How's that sound? What about a little angst this chapter? That sound good, too?

Cordelia opened her door and of course, there he was.  She hadn’t known many pirates in her life that she genuinely liked.  But she could always make an exception for her Straw Hats.  Always, “CORDELIA!”

“Luffy!” Cordelia threw her arms around him, “Hi!”

“When Nami said we’d be going somewhere special for dinner tonight,” Luffy gasped, “She didn’t say we’d be coming here.”

“Where else would you go?” Cordelia scoffed, “Best food in Beniville Bay.  Right here.”

“Don’t tell Sanji I told you this,” Luffy kept his voice down, “But his cooking isn’t as good as yours.”

“I know,” Cordelia giggled, “Go on.  Go inside.”

“Thanks!” Luffy walked into Cordelia’s house and found Ash in the middle of the living room with his jaw on the floor, “Hey!  There’s a little kid in here!  Hi, little kid!”

“Luffy,” Cordelia settled him, “Play nice.”

“What?” Luffy squeaked, “I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“There’s…what?” Usopp poked his head around the corner, “Oh, hi, Cordelia!”

“Hi, Usopp,” Cordelia got a hug out of him and a little kiss to her cheek, “Go on.  Go play with him.”

“Awesome!” Usopp slid past her, “Hey, you weren’t lying, Luffy!  There’s a kid here!”

“I’ll go keep them in line,” Nami already walked in.

“Thank you, Nami,” Cordelia leaned against the doorjamb.  Until Zoro came up to her.  And immediately scooped her up in his arms, “Hi, Zoro.”

“It’s been way too long since we’ve seen you, Cordelia,” Zoro practically snapped her spine, “I’m so glad Nami brought us here.”

“Me, too,” Cordelia melted in his embrace.  Until she saw those eyes.  Those eyes that got her hooked all those years ago.  And her heart fell to pieces, “Hey, Zoro?  Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, but…Could you…?”

“Yeah,” Zoro let her go, “I’ll just…Go inside?”

“If it’s not too much to ask,” Cordelia nodded.

“Got it,” Zoro walked inside and closed the door and the living room windows behind him.

And the air went still.  Five years had gone by and Cordelia still couldn’t believe this was the one.  The same one she had fallen in love with all those years ago.  And yet, she sat down on her front step.  And he sat next to her, “Everyone else gets hugs and kisses and I just get the front porch?”

“I figured I’d let you finish your cigarette before you came inside,” Cordelia smiled a bit, “Hello, Sanji…”

“Cordelia…” Sanji put the rest of his half smoked cigarette out on the bottom of his boot before throwing the butt into the gravel.  And immediately, Sanji pulled Cordelia into his arms.  And he didn’t want to let her go, “I missed you so much…”

“I missed you, too,” Cordelia did all she could to not start bawling.  Her knotted up stomach wanted to relax, but it just couldn’t.  Something else weighed far too heavy on her shoulders to even allow her to think about relaxing. 

“Please,” Sanji hoped, “Please tell me I’m not homewrecking here.”

“What?” Cordelia giggled, cuddling into his shoulder “No.  Of course not.  But…Sanji, I have to tell you something.”

“Oh…” Sanji’s eyes fell to the ground, “There is someone.”

“There is,” Cordelia bit the inside of her cheek, “And…I really want you to meet him.”

“Him?” Sanji whined, “Really?  No.  You’re right.  It would’ve been selfish of me to think you would’ve waited for me.”

“Sanji…”

“We had one night together,” Sanji went on, “I’m sure it made an impact then, but…”

“Sanji…”

“Again, it would’ve been selfish of me to think…”

“Sanji,” Cordelia grabbed him by his face and pressed her lips against his, “It’s not like that.  I promise.  Just…Come on.  I already have dinner made.  And I want you to meet him.”

“Fine,” Sanji let out a heavy, dramatic sigh, “But I’m not making any promises.”

“I’m not expecting you to,” Cordelia pushed herself onto her feet, “But-”

“Hey, Cordelia!” Luffy stuck his head out the front window, “Since when do you have a kid?”

Cordelia bit down on her lip, her eyes squeezed tight.  And it took everything she had not to beat Luffy down with a cast iron frying pan, “Since I had him, Luffy.”

“He’s great!” Luffy beamed, beyond thrilled to have a new buddy.

“Hold on,” Sanji froze, “Cordelia…How long has it been since you had him?”

Cordelia knew it was coming.  She knew she’d have to say something eventually.  It was going to be the elephant in the room, but it had to be said, “He’s about to turn five.”

“Oh,” Sanji let it go.  Although, the math started adding up quickly in the back of his head, “And…Is that who you wanted me to meet?”

“You were going to eventually,” Cordelia walked inside with Sanji in tow, “Ash…Come here, baby.”

“Mama!” Ash gasped, running to his mother’s side, “You didn’t tell me how cool you were when you were hanging out with Luffy!”

“They might have been here a week,” Cordelia giggled to herself, “I didn’t realize I made that much of an impression.”

“You liberated an entire ship of trafficked girls and made that ship’s captain walk the plank, Cordelia,” Luffy reminded her, “That’s pretty cool, if I do say so myself.”

“You know what?” Usopp sighed out, kicking his feet up on the coffee table, “It reminds me of this one time when I was in the South Blue.  There was an entire fleet after my ship!  And I knocked all those captains’ heads together like a pendulum!  It was a pretty weird Tuesday.”

“I’m sure it was, Usopp,” Cordelia sat down on her couch and Ash nuzzled himself into her lap, “But yeah.  A lot’s happened since we all saw each other.  I know I’ve already talked about it with Nami this morning, but I do.  This is my son, Ash.”

Ash looked up at her, “We’ve already met, Mama.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Cordelia slowed her breathing, already feeling her heart ready to give out, “But I told you I knew pirates.  And now, you can put names to faces.”

Although, Sanji got a good look at Ash.  A very good look at Ash.  He thought for sure he was overthinking things.  So, he let them go, “It’s Ash, right?”

“Mmhm,” Ash nodded, “Is this the pretty cook you always talk about?”

“Ash,” Cordelia’s cheeks turned the brightest red.  And Sanji’s weren’t much better off, “Why don’t you and the others go play in the backyard?  I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.  I could really use your help, Sanji.”

“I’d be happy to,” Sanji agreed, a little smile gracing his face.

“But dinner was ready before they-”

“Asher,” Cordelia stood her ground, “Go outside.”

“Fine,” Ash got up from Cordelia’s lap and ran out the back door.

“Does that mean we get to go play outside, too, Cordelia?” Luffy hoped, “And then, we get food?”

“Yes, Luffy,” Cordelia held her face in her hands, “You, too.”

“Yay!” Luffy started running for the back door, “Come on, Usopp!”

“I’m coming!” Usopp followed, just as excited.

“Zoro, Nami…” Cordelia begged, “Will you two go be the adult supervision?”

“Already on it,” they droned.

“Thank you,” Cordelia took Sanji’s hand, “You get to come with me.”

“Aww,” Sanji teased her a bit, “And I wanted to go outside and play, too.”

“Bullshit, Sanji,” Cordelia rolled her eyes, “I know you better than that.  There’s nowhere you’re more content than in a kitchen.”

“I can think of one other place,” Sanji followed Cordelia into the kitchen and looked across the way at a very familiar bedroom.

“Other than that,” Cordelia shook her head, “Oh, I missed you, Sanji.”

“And I, you, darling,” Sanji kissed her cheek, “But…There’s something I need to ask you.”

“Yes,” Cordelia groaned, “The seal on the oregano jar still hasn’t been broken.”

“That wasn’t it,” Sanji hushed her, “But I will commend you for it.”

“Alright,” Cordelia hopped up on the kitchen counter, “Go ahead.  I know you’re going to ask.”

“It’s about Ash…”

“I figured.”

Sanji looked out the kitchen window into the backyard where Ash, Luffy, and Usopp were running around the big tree, “Where’s his father?”

Cordelia’s stomach dropped to her feet.  Slowly, she settled her mind, “Would you like to hear the story I tell him when he asks?”

“I’d love to,” Sanji sat down at the table.

“I tell him his father was lost to the sea,” Cordelia sighed out, “Which isn’t entirely lying to him.  I tell him his father pulled into this port one day.  We fell in love.  And then, he was gone.  He didn’t stick around long enough to know Ash would come along.  Hell, I wouldn’t even know Ash was coming along until a month and a half later.  So, I always tell Ash the same thing.  I don’t ever tell him his father left us.  Because that would’ve meant his father knowing there was an us and not just me.  But he had me.  And I’m all he’s ever known.  And that’s all that mattered.”

“Until…?” Sanji could see it in Cordelia’s eyes.  There was something she wasn’t saying.  There was something that was killing her.  There was something she wanted to just spit out, but she couldn’t find the words to do it.

“Until…” Cordelia’s voice broke.  But before she could start crying, she cleared her throat, “Until…He met Auntie Nami in the marketplace this morning getting produce for him.”

And that was the moment where Sanji’s heart exploded.  And yet, his face remained unmoved, “And how old is he?”

“He’s four…”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Cordelia?” Sanji snapped a bit, “Why didn’t you tell me he was mine?  Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant in the first place?  You know damn well I would’ve come back for you!”

“Because, Sanji,” Cordelia defended herself, “I knew this wasn’t the life for you.  I knew you were meant to be out to sea.  I didn’t want to be the one to hold you back from that.”

“You never held me back,” Sanji growled, “You never would’ve held me back.  You think I wouldn’t have wanted to settle down?  You think I wouldn’t have wanted to settle down with you?  ESPECIALLY, if I knew I had a son out there?  You don’t get to make those decisions for me, Cordelia!  You didn’t deserve to go through your pregnancy and raising him on your own!”

“I don’t know why you’re mad at me,” Cordelia jumped down Sanji’s throat, “It’s not like we’re suffering, Sanji.  We have everything handled.  I have everything handled.  I never expected anything from you.”

“But I would’ve given you everything without batting an eye!” The room went quiet again.  Not the kind of quiet like it was before.  Not the uncomfortable, awkward quiet.  The seething, angry quiet.  Sanji got up from the table, “I need to go.”

“Where are you going?” Cordelia worried.

“To walk out on the apparent mother of my son properly,” Sanji went straight for the door, knowing how badly his words wounded her.  The slamming screen cut Cordelia deeper than she had ever been hurt before.  She knew it wasn’t going to be pretty, but she didn’t realize it’d be this bad.

“Cordelia?” Zoro walked in, the rattling screen catching his attention.  He wasn’t expecting to find her sobbing on the floor, “Hey…Where’d Sanji go?”

Cordelia couldn’t even talk.  Her words failed her.  And her heart was in pieces.  But she wasn’t alone.  And Zoro would make sure she knew that.  So, he sat on the floor next to her and pulled her into his shoulder.  And she bawled her eyes out for a while.  Zoro knew he would be there for as long as she needed. 

“Cordelia,” Zoro picked her chin up and wiped her tears away, “What happened?”

“I screwed up,” Cordelia spoke through her sobs, “I screwed up so big.”

“What do you mean?” Zoro looked at her strangely, “What was with the door slamming?”

“Sanji’s pissed,” Cordelia explained, her head rested in Zoro’s chest, “I didn’t tell him about Ash.”

“Why would that piss him off?” Zoro wondered, “I mean, we all didn’t know about Ash until we came here.”

“Yeah,” Cordelia felt another wave of tears coming, “But you’re not all his father…”

“Oh…” Zoro got quiet after that.  He wasn’t sure if it was shock or heartbreak.  But he knew he had to do something.  When they all met Cordelia for the first time, Zoro had a soft spot for her.  Like the annoying little sister he never had.  But that didn’t mean he didn’t know Sanji a little better than she did, “Ash is…Sanji’s son?”

“Mmhm,” Cordelia nodded, “I always told Ash his father was lost at sea.  I wasn’t lying to him.  For all I knew, Sanji was lost at sea.  But I knew he was out there.  Somewhere.  And you guys are impossible to get a hold of.  How was I supposed to know where to find you?  And then, to tell Sanji I was pregnant?  It would’ve ruined him.”

“By the sounds of it,” Zoro winced, “It’s ruining him now.  And he’s got four years to catch up on.”

“Thanks, Zoro,” Cordelia grumbled, “Way to make me feel more like shit.”

“Not my intentions,” Zoro promised, “Does Ash know?”

“No,” Cordelia shook her head, “But I’m sure there’s going to be a connection made at some point.”

“Do you want me to go out and find Sanji?”

“No.  He needs to walk this one off.  He’s already pissed.  I don’t need to get under his skin even more.”

“Ok,” Zoro didn’t budge.  He kept Cordelia in his lap, “You know…He’s a great kid.”

“Thank you,” Cordelia cracked a smile, “I did my best with what I had.  And it’s not like I totally raised Ash alone.  I had Nora at the tavern, too.  And some of the others around here.  It takes a village and I had one.”

“And that might be what’s bothering him,” Zoro assumed, “Ever think Sanji would’ve wanted to be part of Ash’s life?”

“Like I said, though,” Cordelia reiterated, “How was I supposed to tell him?  You guys are out on the ship and in the middle of the sea.  Was I just supposed to get on mine and go find you guys?  Out in the middle of who the hell knows where and risk me going into labor where there would be no doctor around?  Or anyone else for that matter?  Where it would be just me squeezing Ash’s massive head out of me with no painkillers and a weirdly angled mirror?  I wasn’t keeping Sanji away from Ash.  He could’ve come back anytime.  But no.  He was gone for five years.  And now, he knows he has a kid out in the world.  And he still walked out.”

“Cordelia,” Zoro kept his voice down, “Does the name Vinsmoke Judge mean anything to you?”

“No,” Cordelia shook her head, “Why?  Should it?”

“He’s the reason why Sanji would ever want to be a dad to his kid in the first place,” Zoro explained, “He’d kill me for saying any of this, but Vinsmoke Judge was a piece of shit father to his own kids.  Including Sanji.  We’ve talked about it.  If we were to ever have families outside the crew.  And he only said one thing.  If he had a kid, all he’d want to do is give that kid the life he never had.  And the dad he never had.  And to never know suffering a day in their life.  This might just be me speculating, but I think this is about more than just you not telling Sanji about Ash.”

In that moment, Cordelia’s heart fell to her feet in individual pieces.  Like the world’s saddest confetti.  She stood up, brushed herself off, and pulled herself together, “I have to go.”

“Hey, Cordelia?” Luffy stuck his head in the back door, “Is dinner done yet?  I’m starving.”

“I have to go,” Cordelia wiped her eyes one last time, “Zoro, can you keep an eye on Ash for me?”

“Go,” Zoro insisted, “Everything here is taken care of.”

“Thank you,” Cordelia started heading for the front door, “And keep Luffy out of the kitchen!”

“Will do!”

With her wits about her much more than they were before, Cordelia went on a search for Sanji.  Beniville Bay wasn’t very big, so it’s not like he could get lost.  He wasn’t Zoro.  But Cordelia knew where to find him.  Cordelia knew exactly where to find him.  The place it all started.  On the cliffs of Beniville Bay, there was the perfect view of all the West Blue.  So the rumor was.  There was nothing but water in any direction one were to look from those cliffs.  The day Sanji met Cordelia, she sat on the edge of those cliffs, gently singing an old shanty to herself.  And Sanji swore she was a siren.  And she certainly drew him in like one.

And sure enough, Cordelia found Sanji sitting at the edge.  Her hands and knees started to shake, but she knew she had to push through it.  No matter how hard it might be.  But at the same time, she didn’t want to scare him.  Cordelia made sure her footsteps made noise.  And of course, she caught Sanji’s attention. 

“What are you doing here?” Sanji asked, his voice hardly above a whisper. 

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Cordelia sat on the ground next to him.  And the quiet between them was excruciating.

“I needed some quiet,” Sanji told her, clearing his throat, “What about you?”

“I needed to explain myself,” Cordelia carefully took Sanji’s hand, “Look, Sanji…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Ash.  I’m sorry I made big decisions for you.”

“Cordelia,” Sanji asked, “Does Ash know who I am?”

“Of course,” Cordelia assured him, “You’d be amazed at how many times he’ll ask me to tell him all about the pirates I knew.  He’d go back and tell his friends that his mama knew pirates.  His mama was a pirate.”

“But not his father.”

“I’d tell him all about the pirates I knew,” Cordelia smiled, “Including you.  He heard all kinds of stories about you and me.”

“Did he?” Sanji started to perk up a little, “What’s he know about?”

“He knows how you called me a siren while you were here,” Cordelia rested her head on Sanji’s shoulder, “He knows that when we met, Luffy almost cleared out the tavern.  And that you still made food when you got back to the ship because-”

“I didn’t want to get rusty,” Sanji chuckled to himself, “And yet, I seem to remember that same night when Zoro got wildly drunk and you and I snuck back to your place to do some very vile things.”

“I don’t tell Ash about that one,” Cordelia giggled, “He doesn’t need to know about the night he was conceived.”

Sanji laid back on the ground and pulled Cordelia into his ribs, “I wish I would’ve known about Ash.  He’s a great kid.”

“He’s our great kid.”

“No,” Sanji shook his head, “He’s your great kid.  I had nothing to do with him turning out the way he has.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Cordelia cuddled into him, “Sanji, there’s more of you in Ash than you think there is.  One time, he threw a tantrum because I was in the middle of making dinner at the tavern and he wanted a banana.  I was almost done with dinner and he wanted a banana, so I wasn’t going to give him one.  He could wait for dinner.  Mind you, he had no money on him.  But there was a woman selling fruit from her stand a little way down the square.  He went over to the woman and told her he had a rumbly tummy.  The kid batted his eyelashes at her and came back with a banana and a satisfied grin on his face.”

“Really?” Sanji laughed, “He charmed a woman for a banana?”

“I didn’t believe it at first either,” Cordelia held her face in her hands, “But Nora said she saw the whole thing.  It was incredible.  And I don’t think I ever heard that kid ever use the word tummy a day in his life.  He full on charmed a woman for a banana.”

A sudden warmth spread through Sanji’s chest like a wildfire, “That’s my boy…”

“He is,” Cordelia agreed, “Whether you like it or not, you can’t deny him.  You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

“The little uptick in his eyebrows?”

“The very same.”

“Yeah,” Sanji nodded, “I saw.  It was how I realized he was mine.  I just needed to hear it from you.”

“And you did,” Cordelia shut her eyes for a moment or two, “Ash is your son, Sanji.  You are just as much his dad as I am his mom.  But you think you were shocked when you met him for the first time.  You should’ve seen his first birthday.”

“You’re right,” Sanji stared up into the sky as guilt crept into his thoughts, “I should’ve seen his first birthday.”

“No,” Cordelia hushed him, “We’re not going to make it sad.  He knows you now, Sanji.  And no one can take that away from you.  And now that you know he exists, you can do something about it.”

“It’s just a matter of what I do,” Sanji pulled Cordelia a little closer, “But about his first birthday.  Tell me.”

“I knew he wouldn’t remember his first birthday,” Cordelia began, “First birthday parties were just vanity things for the parents to pat themselves on the back.  Birthday parties aren’t for the kid until they gain more sentience and cognitive memory.  But I still wanted to do something special.  So, I told Nora I was going to go on sabbatical for a month or two and I brought Ash on the boat.”

“You took a one year old on a boat?” Sanji gasped, “Cordelia, are you insane?”

“It was for a good reason,” Cordelia went on, “I took a couple weeks to get from the West Blue to the East Blue.  And just in time for Ash’s first birthday, we docked.  I got him dressed that night.  The cutest little bowtie.  I got dressed.  And we went and had dinner at the Baratie.”

Sanji froze.  His stomach turned into a solid knot.  And he wasn’t sure what to do about that, “You took our one year old son to the Baratie?”

“Yes, I did,” Cordelia nodded, “We deserved something nice.  And…Well, I always heard you talk up the Baratie, so…”

“Oh my god…” Sanji let out a little gasp, “You went to the Baratie looking for me.”

“Maybe,” Cordelia bit her lip, “So, you can’t say I never attempted to go after you.  But once we got back home, I figured you were on the other side of the world by then.  So, because Ash and I deserved nice things, we went to the Baratie for his birthday.  You should’ve seen the look on Zeff’s face when I walked in.”

And just when Sanji thought it couldn’t get worse, it managed to get just a little worse, “You met Zeff on your own?”

“You act like he’s some kind of monster,” Cordelia giggled, “Yeah.  I met Zeff on my own.  And he was nothing but sweet to me.  Zeff was a peach.  He sat with me for a bit while I was bouncing Ash on my knee.  But he was getting to that phase where he wanted to crawl all over the place, so if I held him down for too long, he’d try to squirm out or get super fussy.  And I had yet to eat anything at that point, so I was starving.  Ash ate more off my plate than I did, I swear.  Oh, Sanji…I wish you would’ve seen it.  Zeff took Ash and let me eat.  It was the first time since he was born that I could eat more than a few bites before I had to take care of him in some way.”

“I have a hard time seeing Zeff with a baby,” Sanji started to relax a bit.

“I mean,” Cordelia shrugged, “In a way, it made sense.  That was his grandson.  He just…didn’t realize it yet.  At least not until he got a better look at him.”

“So,” Sanji’s warm feeling didn’t last long, “Zeff knows.”

“Zeff figured it out,” Cordelia clarified, “But yes, Zeff knows.  Zeff knows Ash is his grandson.  Zeff knows you have a baby out in the world.  And Zeff expects us every year on Ash’s birthday.  But all that aside, the day I brought Ash to the Baratie…Zeff closed up a little early, so he and I could talk uninterrupted.  A few of the boys cleared the tables out.  Zeff cracked open a bottle of wine for me.  I could still taste it.  But Ash had fallen asleep in my arms.  And he was so content.  I told Zeff all about our night together without scarring him.  We talked about my life before we met.  And then, Ash woke up.  I felt bad because I thought maybe we were too loud.  He slid down from my lap and held onto my knee when he stood up.  And I watched as he took his first twelve steps from me to Zeff and fell into Zeff’s leg.”

“He…” Sanji tried not to start tearing up, but the thought of the little boy in Cordelia’s house having taken his first steps in a place he held dear in his heart and to the man that saved his life made it difficult, “He took his first steps…to Zeff…In the Baratie?”

“It was beautiful to see, Sanji,” Cordelia cuddled in a little closer, “You should’ve seen the look on Zeff’s face.  Fucking priceless.  And now, I can hardly keep up with him.  My god, the little shit has more energy than God knew what to do with.  But he did.  We got to working on walking on my boat and he had a pretty good handle on it before we got home.  But once we hit land again, he had to learn to walk all over.”

“Cordelia…” Sanji wept, “I’ve missed so much…”

“It doesn’t matter what you’ve missed, Sanji,” Cordelia assured him, “What matters is that you know he exists.  You know he’s here.  And he’s got a birthday coming up.  I know Zeff’s going to be waiting for us.  I bet he misses you, too.”

“You think so?” Sanji thought it over, “You know, it has been a while since I’ve seen Zeff.  I suppose it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I popped up there.”

“I wouldn’t tell you no,” Cordelia wrapped herself around Sanji’s arm, “Would you want to make the annual birthday trip to the Baratie with us?  Chances are, it’ll be the first real birthday Ash really remembers.  What better way to have it than to be the first birthday he has with both his parents?”

Sanji felt a hitch in his breathing.  His heart turned into a puddle and he knew he wouldn’t be able to say no, “When do we shove off?”

“Probably in a couple days,” Cordelia thought, “Unless you and the others are off on some other great, grand quest.  This wouldn’t be very long.  Probably a night at the Baratie docks.”

“Cordelia,” Sanji took her hands into his and gently brought them to his lips, “Of course, sweetheart.  I’d love to.”

“Thank you,” Cordelia melted inside.  But then, reality set in, “You know, we should probably get back to my place before Luffy starts seizing up.”

“Good call,” Sanji got up and helped Cordelia onto her feet, “And…Cordelia?”

“Hmm?”

Sanji pulled her into his arms and held her tight, “I’m so sorry for walking out on you.”

“You were pissed,” Cordelia comforted him, “I understand.”

“No,” Sanji shook his head, “I could’ve stayed here a little longer.  Long enough to know you were pregnant.  We could’ve been a real family.”

“We still are, Sanji,” Cordelia held his hand, “I tried seeing other men after you, but it wasn’t the same.  It didn’t feel right.  And the guy I saw after you really wasn’t right.  He found out Ash wasn’t his and walked out on us.  You came back, though.  I told you that you had a son and now, in a couple days, we’re going to go to the Baratie for his birthday.”

“Could you imagine the look on Zeff’s face when we walk in there together?” Sanji chuckled to himself, “Might actually put the old man in a heart attack.”

“We don’t want to do that to Zeff,” Cordelia awed, “I like Zeff.  And Zeff adores me.  My god, does Zeff love me.  Although, I think it was mostly a pity thing.  I walk into his restaurant a single mother only to find out that baby was yours.”

“He’s going to fucking kill me when we get there,” Sanji winced, “I can feel it.”

“Are you kidding?” Cordelia rolled her eyes, “Zeff adores you and wouldn’t dare.  Besides, Ash just got his father.  He’s not going to take him away from that.”

“That’s something I need hanging over my head,” Sanji scoffed, “Using the kid as a human shield.  That’s what we have Luffy for.”

“Don’t worry about Zeff,” Cordelia took Sanji’s arm, “If anything goes south with Zeff, I’ll take all the heat.  Considering this is mostly my fault anyway.”

“I still can’t believe you were at the Baratie to find me,” Sanji cracked a little smile.

“Why else would I have gone to the Baratie?”

“A half decent meal and just as mediocre ambience?”

“Valid point,” Cordelia ran a little way ahead, “We really do need to get back a little quicker, Sanji.”

“Why do you say that?” Sanji wondered, “Cordelia, sweetheart, we’re going to be here for a few days.  We have all the time in the world.”

“Very true,” she agreed, “But do you really want to leave a hungry Luffy alone with dinner on the table?”

“Alright.  Point made.”

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Victor’s HS SSR Story: Carefree Years (Eng Translation)

⌚Warning⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for a story, 岁月无忧, that is yet to be released on the global server! ♡

Do remember to read the event stories beforehand for further info and understanding: ♡ || ♡ || ♡ || ♡ || ♡ || ♡ || ♡

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

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【Subbed Video】

Work in progress, will add the link once it’s uploaded :>

【Transcript Version】

[Notes]: The story is told from young Victor’s perspective + includes the narrator’s POV towards the end sporadically~ 💕

—

【Chapter 1】

It’s early autumn, and Loveland City hasn’t yet shaken off the lingering summer heat. The breeze, still carrying the residual heat, slips through the cracks of the windows into the dormitory, dispelling the slight chill. 

The hour hand of the alarm clock by the bedside is about to point to six. I roll out of bed, pick up my toiletry bag, and turn around, heading for the door. 

—

Once I’m done freshening up, I plan to go to the cafeteria for breakfast before heading to the classroom to drop off my backpack. 

Considering the time required for submitting summer vacation assignments, preparing for the first class, and accounting for any unforeseen circumstances… 

I should have enough time before I need to be at the playground at 7:30 to confirm the final proceedings with the emcee of the flag-raising ceremony. 

??: Morning, Bro Vic~ 

A slurred voice sounds from the side just as I wipe the water off my face, and then that familiar face comes into view. 

With his mouth full of toothpaste foam, Zheng Xi tilts his head back and makes gurgling sounds as he rinses his mouth. His hair is so disheveled that it could hide a couple of eggs within. 

Victor: Morning.

Victor: It’s rare to see you not stepping on the dot. 

Zheng Xi: New semester, fresh start. Besides, we can’t lose face to our seniors. Must follow the examples of Bro Vic! 

Victor: Don’t make things harder for yourself, and don’t end up straining your neck when the time comes. 

Zheng Xi: …cracking cold jokes on such a hot day. I must thank you for it. 

As he speaks, he haphazardly wipes his face a few times and then carelessly tosses the toothbrush into the washbasin. 

— 

The corridor has become much livelier when I walk out of the dorm room again after changing into the school uniform and hanging my backpack over my shoulders. 

Accompanied by the sound of flowing water, the jingling and clattering sounds reverberate through the corridor in the early morning. The doors of different dorm rooms swing open and then close, as if orchestrating a concerto unique to high school life. 

Walking beside me, Zheng Xi suddenly begins to talk. 

Zheng Xi: You haven’t said hello to our new roommates yet, have you? One of them was in Section 6, and the other was in Section 9. 

Victor: Oh, didn’t we have a quick encounter earlier? 

Zheng Xi: Saying hello means introducing yourself, not just exchanging a brief glance and nodding, okay? 

…it seems like one summer break isn’t enough for someone with a young-at-heart mentality to have much growth. 

Victor: If only you could channel this meticulous attention to every wording in your reading comprehension, “Empress Dowager Hu” wouldn’t call on you to answer questions every class. 

Zheng Xi: Don’t jinx me! Also, my mom practically had detained me these past two months to catch up on Chinese. Who knows, I might have improved by leaps and bounds. 

Zheng Xi: Speaking of which, why would teachers like “Empress Dowager Hu” who receives awards yearly, teach liberal arts classes? Oh well, damn lucky Wu Xing! 

Victor: Well, that’s not necessarily the case. 

Victor: I’m afraid pulling up the Chinese language grades for a student like you who is biased towards specific subjects is more about showcasing your skills. 

As expected, the wails of anguish resound. I shake my head helplessly, finding myself already somewhat accustomed to this. 

I just can’t wrap my head around how this guy who’s been getting nearly perfect scores in math since the first year of high school can be so one-track-minded in other subjects. 

— 

As we walk into Section 1 of the first year, I find that quite a few students have already arrived. Among them are both familiar and unfamiliar faces. 

Some are in groups, chatting about their summer vacation experiences, while others sit alone at their desks, organizing their textbooks. 

I cast a brief glance at the seating chart on the blackboard and quickly find my name. 

Surprisingly, it’s the same seat as before. That’s actually good. 

Just as I’m about to lift my foot, I notice the person next to me is still squinting while trying to find his name. 

Victor: You can stop searching; you’re in the first row. 

Zheng Xi: … 

After setting down my backpack, I find that inside the desk, there’s a carton of milk, its outer packaging still oozing moisture from the condensation.

Whose is this? And why is it placed here? 

Before I can even inquire, my arm is poked with a pen cap. 

I tilt my head and see a boy I’m not that familiar with pointing at the milk carton in my hand. 

Boy: Um… I put it there. Don’t take it the wrong way–– I’m just helping someone out. I’m delivering it for a girl who used to be in my former Section 6. 

Zheng Xi: Whoa–– it’s been ages since I’ve seen a scene like this. I almost feel like I’ve traveled back to our first year. 

Zheng Xi walks over to poke his nose in as he hears the noise, wearing a gossipy look. 

Zheng Xi: I know many folks from Section 6. Who is this brave soul? Spill the beans. 

Boy: Uh, she specifically told me not to disclose her identity… 

Zheng Xi: F*ck! Quite smart to keep her identity under wraps. It’s a shame, though, cause she’s also fallen into the pit. How come she hasn’t heard about our Bro Vic’s wide reputation for being strictly incorruptible and not getting anywhere near girls? 

He lowers his voice as he speaks, feigning a sense of mystery. 

Zheng Xi: Besides, there’s a name this guy keeps murmuring about in his dreams all the time…

Victor: Was your summer vacation too boring since you had to keep these words pent up for two whole months? 

Victor: Here, drink this to moisten your throat. 

Victor: So you don’t get stuck while trying to recite Classical Chinese in the first class. 

– 

I toss the milk to him, grab the speech notes, and stand up to walk out of the classroom. Sure enough, a wave of cries akin to “wailing ghosts and howling wolves” follow from behind.

Zheng Xi: See– see! Such foul temper and unapproachable look on his face! I bet it won’t be long before everyone who wants to give him a gift will be scared away! 

It’d be the best outcome– ideal to avoid any complications. 

– 

I stride down the stairs with big steps, until the refreshing air fills my nostrils. 

Victor: [murmuring to himself]  …how could I possibly sleep-talk in my dreams, [sounds as if he’s telling himself–]  idiot. 

Thinking about Zheng Xi’s incessant chatter leaves me speechless. Even though they all unanimously claim that I do mention that name in my sleep, I remain skeptical. 

While searching for information about the orphanage incident, it's highly likely that I came across the compiled data from the past few years. 

Inhaling a deep breath, I continue walking toward the playground. 

To be honest, I’m not oblivious to the significance of those gifts and the feelings that can blossom at this age. It’s just that, personally, I don’t find them as something necessary. 

Time has always been best spent on more important endeavors, whether achieving short-term goals or paving the path for long-term plans. From this point on, it’s crucial to be adequately prepared. 

Anything unrelated to these matters is just a waste of time. 

I take another turn, and sunlight filters through the greenery, casting vibrant patches on the plastic athletic track, creating a colorful dance. 

It’s 7:10 sharp, right on the dot. 

— 

[Tidbits]: For those who are unaware, all the dream-talk is a reference to Victor’s R&S “Six out of Seventeen,” (find the translation here by @/cheri-translates), which touched upon the extent of his long and strenuous search for MC— including the little crumbs as how he’d call a girl’s name in his sleep and his roommates would tease him about it– which we got to see a bit here as well. I do VERY HIGHLY recommend reading all the canceled R&S for yourself because if you haven’t, you have NO IDEA what you’re missing out on! ༼⁠;⁠´⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠۝ ⁠༎ຶ⁠༽ 

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 2】

Victor: Teacher. Reporting! 

The people in the office glance up at my voice, the rapid movement of their pens coming to a pause. Teacher Hu adjusts the wire-framed glasses on the bridge of her nose, displaying a composed smile. 

Teacher Hu: Come in, Vic.

Teacher Hu: Here— the mock Chinese exam papers for our section. Take them and hand them out. I’ll discuss them during the class later. 

As she speaks, she taps the stack of test papers on her left with the tip of her pen, then retrieves a laminated file from the drawer. 

Teacher Hu: In here, you’ll find the scores and class-grade rankings for each subject this time. Help me attach them to each student’s respective test papers one by one. 

Teacher Hu: We have an eye exercise break during this class, right? You can stay here and get everything organized before going back. Here, the paperclips. 

Victor: Roger. 

Once Teacher Hu finishes speaking, she resumes grading the papers with her head lowered. It seems … she is grading the Classical Chinese reading exercises from yesterday evening’s self-study session? The moment this thought springs to mind, I quickly glance over. 

Luckily, I answered that set of questions quite smoothly yesterday. 

Thinking this way, my fingertips subconsciously relax as I untie the knot. As expected, the report cards are sorted by student ID. 

Just as I’m about to begin flipping through them from the back, Teacher Hu’s voice sounds right on cue. 

Teacher Hu: Vic, you did quite well in the exam this time, but there is still room for improvement. Your math teacher, Mr. Gao, also asked me to commend you properly. 

Victor: …thank you, Teacher. 

Teacher Hu: Zheng Xi-- that kid has also made some progress. It looks like he’s finally catching on. 

Victor: I’ll relay the message on your behalf and tell him to keep making persistent efforts. 

Soon, I spot my own name among the array of report cards. 

Chinese 132, Math 140, English 125, Physics… 

Victor: [sighing LONG and HARD in disappointment] … 

My gaze at once shifts towards the ranking listed at the bottom of the paper. 

Section Ranking: 4th, Grade Ranking: 13th. 

My heart, which has inexplicably leaped into the air, temporarily settles back into its original place. I continue with the sorting, but my thoughts involuntarily begin to decelerate. 

Thankfully, I’ve performed decently in the physics and chemistry exams, and my ranking is still within the range I had set for myself. 

However, my English score is unexpectedly almost 10 points lower than my estimated score. So, where did things go wrong? 

The classroom bell chimes, and the music for eye exercises flows through the air. I’m unable to come up with an answer, so I just subconsciously speed up my movements. 

Teacher Hu: Xiao Luo turned in the participant list for the Autumn Sports Festival yesterday. I noticed you signed up for the friendly soccer match? 

Victor: Yes. There aren’t many students in our section who play soccer, and I’m somewhat familiar with the basic rules and regulations of the game, so I thought I’d participate to make up the numbers. 

Teacher Hu: That's great; participating in this kind of activity is a good thing. It's important not to focus solely on academics; diverting some of one’s attention to meaningful activities like this can also contribute to their self-development. 

Teacher Hu: Don’t you think so, too? 

I nod in agreement, vaguely sensing that Teacher Hu’s words seem to carry an implicit meaning. After picking up the file bag and exam papers, I slightly bow in her direction. 

Victor: Teacher Hu, I’ll take my leave now. 

Teacher Hu: Sure… ah, Vic, there’s something else I wanted to ask you. 

Teacher Hu: Wu Xing from your former section, is it true that he is dating the academic representative from section 3? 

Victor: Is it? I’m not too sure about that. 

Teacher Hu: Weren’t you two dormitory roommates? 

Victor: Yes, but that was last semester. Since this semester began, I haven’t really seen him much. 

Victor: Regarding your question, the response would be more accurate if he answered it himself. Would you like me to summon him for you? 

Teacher Hu: Hahaha, no need for that. 

Teacher Hu: Those friends of yours who hang out with you should learn to take a page from your book and invest their time and energy in more meaningful pursuits. 

Teacher Hu: Alright, you should head back now. 

– 

Following my parting with Teacher Hu, I walk in large strides toward the academic building— a melodious tune wafts through the campus, melding with the breeze. 

I’m afraid “Master Hu,” asked that question, likely because Wu Xing’s results in the mock exam didn’t meet expectations. 

Admittedly, I “did not disclose the information I knew” earlier, but to be fair, I indeed haven’t seen him around much at all, not only during this semester but throughout the entire summer vacation. 

Rarely, when we finally managed to schedule a long-overdue soccer match during our free time from makeup classes, this guy who prioritizes his date before friendship flaked out on me. 

Victor: [scoffing, BUT BAOBEI YOU’RE GONNA DO THE VERY SAME THING 10+ YEARS LATER 🤣]  How childish. 

– 

I’m not sure if it’s a coincidence or one of those cases where “if your heart ponders something, there will be some sort of corresponding response,” but this “ex-roommate” of mine, whom I haven’t seen around much, shows up out of the blue right after taking his name, for the first time in ages. 

Wu Xing: Sir Vic— VIC— TOR— 

A sneaky voice suddenly drifts from the classroom’s back door during the lunch break. Wu Xing cautiously waves his hand, approaching the unfamiliar classroom with a hint of nervousness. 

Feeling a bit resigned, I walk over and offhandedly close the classroom door behind me. 

Victor: Doesn’t your section have you guys work on test papers during lunch break? 

Wu Xing: Does your section still have you guys work on test papers during lunch break? 

Our questions sound in unison, inexplicably making me laugh, but then I quickly refocus on the matter at hand. 

Victor: You need me for something? 

Wu Xing: For something big. Is Lao Zheng not around? 

Victor: I haven’t seen him. 

He asks as he peers into the classroom through the rear window a couple more times before finally speaking solemnly, as if it truly is something of utmost urgency. 

Wu Xing: Well, let’s go then. Time is of the essence. 

– 

I could have never imagined that the “something big” he was talking about was actually buying snacks from the convenience store outside the school gate. 

The aged iron gate, entwined with crawling vines, has a mottled appearance. Even though the lock is dangling loosely, it offers a firm barrier. The air carries a subtle scent of iron rust and the dampness common to the equipment room. 

The hand clutching the paper money reaches through the gap between the railings, and when it is withdrawn, it holds an assortment of snacks in various packaging bags. 

I hardly ever come to this place, and the handful of times I have been are all thanks to my dormitory roommates. 

Victor: So, this is what you referred to as “something big?” I’m out of here. 

Wu Xing: Ack, Sir Vic, don’t! Don’t roll the dice yet. The “iron rooster” is on patrol duty today. If he catches us, it’ll be bad news. At the very least, we’d probably have to sweep the playground for a whole month! 

Victor: And you’re still going to “commit the crime in broad daylight?” 

Wu Xing: [dramatically]  I have reasons for which I must take this risk. 

Victor: …if it weren’t for your talking nonsense, everything would’ve already been bought. 

As if finally remembering his purpose, Wu Xing briskly rushes toward the iron gate and calls out to the convenience store owner while cupping his throat. 

On his way back, he is busy hiding two large packs of “Meow Meow Snow Cookies” in his school uniform jacket. 

He nonchalantly tears open one of the packs while walking over, and then he stuffs two pieces of snow cookies into my hand without any explanation. 

Victor: No need, keep them for yourself to snack on later. 

Wu Xing: No, no, it’s all thanks to you that I could carry out this daunting mission smoothly. Thank you, my greatest ex-roommate, my former class monitor, my… 

Victor: [sighs helplessly]  …shut up. 

– 

Not wanting to waste more time, I off-handedly stash the two snow cookies into my pocket and motion for him to hurry up. He continues walking alongside me, matching my strides, until we reach the academic building. 

The grating noise created by the plastic rubbing against something makes me furrow my brows, and I can’t help but offer a warning. 

Victor: Your classroom is at that end of the corridor. 

Wu Xing: I’ll go to section 3 first. 

Victor: … 

Wu Xing: LuLu didn’t do well in the mock exam. I think she cried. Her eyes were red when I saw her at the cafeteria during lunch. 

Wu Xing: Although she hasn’t mentioned anything, I’m afraid she might think our relationship is interfering with… 

Wu Xing: I don’t know how to make her happy; I can only think of buying her the Meow Meow Snow Cookies she loves. Bro, say, girls would usually feel happy when they eat something they like, right? 

Victor: [softly]  …I think you might be the one who would be even happier. 

— 

[Tidbits]: kept the notes for last so as not to break the flow— 

✦ uhh they have so many nicknames, ofc it’s expected and relatable LMAO, but GODS THEY ARE a PAIN TO TRANSLATE HHH. Victor addressed Teacher Hu as “胡师太” which I translated as “Master Hu.” In Chinese, it’s essentially another sarcastic play on the other nickname they have for their homeroom teacher, “Empress Dowager Hu,” the message behind which is self-explanatory LOL. 

✦ “Prioritizing date before friendship” – the phrase here was 重色轻友, which in more causal English terms would be “hoes before bros,” haha. 

✦ “Iron Rooster” – here, I did the literal translation of “铁公鸡” to retain the sarcastic effect. It in simpler terms refers to someone being a cheapskate or miserly. 

✦ “Meow Meow snow cookies” (喵喵雪饼) – as the name suggests, they are similar to your usual snow cookies, only cat-shaped and much cuter LOL. 

✦ Victor’s final line about you being happier than the person receiving the gift— yes, as you might’ve already presumed, it’s the 2nd reference to MC in this story, and also a theme that runs through Victor’s contents pretty often— when they’re happy because of you, the cheery smile on the person’s face apparently brings you more joy than the person themselves. 

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 3】

Xiao Luo: Victor, how about we play some soccer later? Maybe you could show some of your footwork to the team? 

Despite seeing the expectant look on his face, I still shake my head. 

Victor: Sorry, but today won’t be possible. I can return to the dorm on Sunday morning and have the entire time afterward for practicing. 

Victor: I’ll compile the fundamental tactics and rules later tonight and send them to you on QQ. As for my footwork… I’m an amateur, so the most I can do is share some of my experiences during the actual training session. 

Xiao Luo: Sure thing! Just give me a knock tonight! 

– 

As I walk out of the school gate, the last rays of the setting sun cast a soft, crimson halo over the bustling streets. 

The charm of Friday lies precisely in this, rendering even the usually ordinary sunset into something particularly romantic. 

Soon, the No. 923 bus arrives, and after the crowd has boarded, I stand close to the handrail and shift my backpack to the front. 

The bus isn’t overly crowded at this hour, which makes it easier to fetch one’s belongings without causing any inconvenience to other passengers. 

– 

With this thought in mind, I grip the handrail with one hand while my other hand reaches into the front compartment of my schoolbag to retrieve the vocabulary notebook. With my fingertips, I flip through the pages one by one. 

A few points I lost this time were in vocabulary and grammar. It looks like I need to consolidate my understanding of these error-prone areas much more. 

I concentrate on each letter in the notebook, quietly repeating every word three times in my mind before turning to the next page. 

For a moment, the clamors surrounding me seem to grow muffled. I feel as if I’m isolated in a space of my own, able to hear only the voice of my mind crystal clear. 

Even the passage of time seems to slow down. 

The window’s shadow on the edge of my vision is rendered a hazy tint, slowly receding, but it also sharpens the clarity of the words in front of me. 

Although these words aren’t my first language, as long as I grasp the arteries and veins that connect the word roots and affixes, the rest is simply a process of putting them together and restructuring them. 

The patterns that dictate how the world operates also follow this principle. 

Firstly, one needs to understand the distinct characteristics of different things, then find their respective gaps–– and finally connect them, akin to joining mortise and tenon. 

This way, the correct answer is plainly evident. 

The sky outside the window has gradually begun to darken. I weave through the crowd to the back of the vehicle and take a quick look at my wristwatch. 

The hour hand ticks down one notch, and the time is about the same as what I had in mind. I should still be able to make it to Dawn Market before it closes for the day even if I hit traffic. 

Auntie Zhang usually doesn’t close her stall this early. I’m just not sure if I’ll be able to get any of the fruits Dad loves. 

I subconsciously look at the condition of the road ahead, feeling a slight hint of impatience creeping in. 

Victor: Yes, I can still make it in time. 

– 

By the time I arrive home, it’s slightly past 7 o’clock. 

Swiftly, I put down my schoolbag and change my clothes. I then step into the kitchen, don an apron, put the clams in a bowl to let them soak, and simultaneously begin cleaning the scallops. 

Just as I’m serving the garlic-steamed scallops on the table, I hear the door lock turning in the porch. 

Victor: Dad, you’re back. 

Papa Li: The flight got delayed, so it took longer than expected. Ah, you must be starving, aren’t you? 

Victor: I’m fine. You go and take a rest for a while. I’ll call you when the meal is ready. 

After saying this, I wipe my hands dry and pick up his suitcase propped against the doorway, placing it in the study. When I return to the living room, my father has already rolled up his sleeves and is standing by the dining table. 

Papa Li: I was wondering why the entire house was filled with the aroma of food as soon as I walked in the door. It turns out that our master chef has once again prepared a grand feast. 

Victor: It’s not that over-the-top, just regular home-cooked dishes, that’s all.  Victor: But I do have the clam stew and garlic butter scallops that you love. 

Papa Li: Well, it sounds like I must be in for a treat. 

Papa Li: What are you still stir-frying in your pan? Here, let Dad exhibit some tricks for you. 

My father seems to be in a good mood. It’s probably because the work on his business trip has been exceptionally successful. Although doing things myself would be more efficient, I naturally can’t dampen his spirits. 

I smile and lend him a hand. 

Papa Li: How’s school been going recently? Are you settling into your new class well? 

Victor: It’s going pretty well. We got our mock exam scores and class rankings today, and overall, they’re within the range I expected, except for some mistakes I made in English. 

Victor: I’ll show you my report card after we’re done with dinner. 

Papa Li: I’ve always been confident in your academic performance. What about things outside your studies? Have you been busy with student council duties recently? 

Victor: Hm, we are gearing up to organize the Autumn Sports Festival soon, and lately, I’ve been exploring potential sponsors among educational organizations and bookstores that have shown interest. 

Seeing that he hasn’t shifted his gaze, I contemplate for a moment and add. 

Victor: In my free time, I’ll be playing soccer with the others. I’ve signed up for the soccer tournament in the sports festival. 

Sure enough, my father appears visibly happier upon hearing this and even teases me a little. 

Papa Li: Such opportunities don’t come by often, so you’ve to make sure to give it your best! But son, you haven’t played as much soccer as you used to since you’ve grown up. Are you sure your skills are still sharp? 

Victor: How about personally inspecting my skills tomorrow morning? 

Papa Li: Hahaha, are you “throwing down the gauntlet” to me? Alright, alright, no problem, let’s have a friendly showdown. 

Before we know it, the family dinner wraps up amidst an atmosphere steeped in laughter, something we haven’t done in a long time. 

It’s almost ten o’clock by the time I finish my homework, and I notice that the light in my father’s study is still on. After hesitating for a moment, I go back to my room, pick up the notebook from my desk, and knock on the door of his study. 

– 

Papa Li: Vic? Why are you still up? 

Victor: I’ve got a few questions that I’m having a bit of trouble understanding. 

I flip my notebook to the most recent page and place it in front of my father, briefly giving him a summary of the few stocks that I’ve been researching these days. 

My father comprehends the situation and begins circling things in the notebook, gradually clarifying the puzzles that have been plaguing my mind. 

Seeing that I haven’t said anything in a while, my father gently taps on the table with his pen. 

Papa Li: Is there a part you didn’t understand? 

Victor: No, it’s not that. I’m just glad that I’m in a simulated investment scenario where there’s room for trial and error. 

Papa Li: Real business transactions can also withstand trial and error. Son, there’s no one or no circumstance that can bring overnight success. 

I understand what my father is saying, but it’s precisely because I understand these principles that my resolve to achieve my goals becomes even more steadfast. 

It’s also because I have experienced that feeling of powerlessness, where I was helpless to find a way out, that my conviction has been more solidified— I must advance at a faster pace. 

Victor: I’ve got it. Thanks, Dad. You should get an early night. 

Papa Li: But judging by your achievements of the past few years… 

As if he has suddenly remembered something, my father takes out a somewhat aged notebook from a drawer. 

Inside the notebook, there are meticulous records of the maintenance cost I’ve earned every year for Vic Vic through simulated investments, starting from my junior high school days. 

Papa Li: It looks like you’ll get there earlier than you had planned. 

Victor: My goal is to round off the remaining amount in the next three years. 

Victor: I was quite conservative in my calculations back then, but now I’m confident. 

– 

In the blink of an eye, the preparation phase for the Autumn Sports Festival is in full swing. Adhering to the “first-come, first-served” principle, there’s a constant rush of people in the venues and equipment storage areas. 

It appears that this enthusiasm has got the entire school’s faculty and students immersed, as evident in the ongoing internal meeting of the student council. 

I close the proposal document in front of me and turn my gaze to the head of the sports department who has been talking confidently since the beginning of the meeting, putting forth all kinds of budget-busting ideas. 

If memory serves, he only joined the student council this year. While it’s understandable to have such drive when taking on a major responsibility as this for the first time, it’s not surprising that his ideas are so impractical. 

Victor: We are organizing a sports event for the school, not the Loveland City Youth Sports Meet. 

Victor: Before asking me if I can secure such a large budget, shouldn’t we first consider the already existing conditions? 

Victor: Even if we manage to lock in sponsorships smoothly, I’m afraid we don’t have sufficient space and workforce to sustain it. 

Head of Sports Department: But I’ve discussed this issue with Xiao Sun from your External Affairs Department beforehand, and the proposal he’s handed in today is actually twice as substantial as what he initially suggested. 

Victor: That’s the very reason why having this meeting today was essential, isn’t it? 

Victor: To prevent the possibility of others misinterpreting due to the spread of incomplete information inappropriately. 

The other party doesn’t seem to have anticipated that I would respond this way, rendering him silent for a moment before he speaks again. 

Head of Sports Department: Doesn’t the External Affairs Department need to hold another meeting to discuss this? Or is Student Council President Victor implying that we don’t have any room for further discussion? 

Victor: First and foremost, whether the External Affairs Department needs to deliberate on the conclusions drawn from today’s general meeting, I will make that assessment. 

Victor: Secondly, “we” are not the ones who get to negotiate this. Because this matter has never been about any of us individually, from the outset to the conclusion. 

Head of Sports Department: [sarcastic laugh]  Heh, I’ve heard rumors that the External Affairs Department is managed by an autocratic approach, and today I finally got the chance to witness it first-hand. 

…I can hardly believe someone would make such an elementary-school-student-style remark in this situation. 

Victor: If labeling me with a derogatory term as “autocratic” can make things seem more reasonable, then I don’t find any objection to your remark. 

Head of Sports Department: … 

Victor: I apologize for taking up everyone’s time. The Executive Committee and the Secretariat, please inform me as soon as you have made your decisions, and I will make further improvements to the proposal. 

After finishing my words, I pick up the folder and turn around to exit the conference room. 

— 

[Tidbits]: 

✦ regarding the “arteries and veins” (脉络) and “mortise and tenon” (榫卯) parts— I decided to do their literal translations despite initially going for metaphorical terms, to show you guys the way Li Zeyan writers think + how they wanted you to grasp just how immersed he was and how passionate he is in general about learning that he is subconsciously relating things like this. 

✦ Dawn Market and Auntie Zhang are references to his S2 Company Project, where we met this old lady and learned the precious story of how Victor would visit the market with his dad when he was a kid. I don’t remember her name on the EN server LOL, so used the original one as it was. 

✦ The stock research, simulated investment, and paying for Vic Vic’s (the panda Yan Yan) upkeep fees – these are all references to Victor’s 4th birthday story, where after learning that the panda’s adoption fee had to be paid on yearly installments, 15-year-old Victor decided to put his knowledge about simulated investment to action and use the profits from investments to pay the panda’s upkeep fees. And sure enough, his investments were successful, and at the time he had told his dad that he’d be able to pay his dad all the adoption fees back over the years by the time he was 25. But as we saw in this story, in 2nd year of his senior high school, he had cut that time down to only 3 years, and he did not need those years in full either~ :’) 

✦ And as for using the “Papa Li” term of address instead of “Victor’s Dad”–– it was a force of habit LOL + I wanted to retain the personalized feelings here haha (,,>ࡇ<,,)

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 4】

As the other person reiterates his “refusal” attitude once again, I take a deep breath and reach out to loosen my tie. 

The sunlight at high noon is somewhat glaring. After stuffing the proposal into my backpack, I walk mechanically towards the subway station. 

I still have more than enough time before the cram classes, and this morning has gone well as I successfully negotiated for most of the sponsorship according to the plan. 

Apart from… 

I can’t help but sigh, kneading my throbbing forehead. 

Perhaps because it’s the weekend, as I pass by the park, I hear the animated sounds of laughter and cheerful voices. 

It’s as if I’ve caught the contagious effect of that simple joy, I subconsciously change my path and sit down on a bench nearby. 

All of a sudden, I loosen up a tad and my mind involuntarily begins thinking back to the wall I’ve hit just earlier. 

— 

───── [FLASHBACK BEGINS] ─────

Victor: Mr. Yu, the significance school sports day holds in high school activities is quite evident, whether in terms of its overall scale or the level of importance placed on it by both teachers and students. 

Victor: And with the level of publicity in an event such as this, it’s without a doubt that it can boost your campus market share, while simultaneously deepening the profile of your company. 

Victor: In my opinion, this collaborative effort is one that demands minimal investment but yields rapid returns. 

Victor: Please take a look at our proposal, and if you have any questions, we can discuss them right away. 

The man in the impeccably dressed suit and shoes in front of me remains completely silent, waiting patiently until I finish speaking. Then he sits up straight on the couch, courteously accepts the folder from me, and places it directly onto the table. 

Mr. Yu: Your arguments are very sound, but there’s no need for us to invest in the school. 

Victor: Do you have any concerns, or are there any aspects of the proposal that you currently find unsatisfactory? 

Mr. Yu: Hahaha, Victor, you seem to have missed the point of what I meant. 

Mr. Yu: As a matter of fact, your proposal is already very well-rounded. To be honest with you, among all the proposals I always receive, many from adults don’t even measure up to yours. 

Mr. Yu: But you must know that what you’re confronting are people, not only proposals. 

Mr. Yu: There’s nothing wrong with being considerate of all aspects, but people are incoercible, let alone businessmen who always prioritize their interests above all else. 

───── [FLASHBACK ENDS] ─────

— 

Suddenly, something lightly bumps against my feet, snapping me back to reality. 

It’s a soccer ball. 

??: Sorry—— 

An unfamiliar voice sounds not far away, and upon lifting my head, I see a group of young boys waving at me, dripping with sweat. I knowingly rise to my feet and lift my leg to kick the ball back to them. 

The ball is passed with perfect accuracy to the feet of a young boy not too far away. 

??: Thanks, buddy! 

Sunlight filters down the gaps between the branches and leaves. I incline my head to gaze at the dappled light spots it creates. 

On this day, I’ve come to understand that many things don’t yield results based on the perfection achieved by one individual; there are numerous external factors at play. 

And that, one should always be prepared and have a well-rounded plan in place for everything. 

– 

The highly anticipated Autumn Sports Festival has lifted its curtains on a bright and beautiful morning. 

With the piercing sound of the whistle, the friendly soccer match is down to its final five minutes. 

Under the scorching sun, the grass field sizzles beneath our feet, and the striking 0:1 on the scoreboard has got everyone in the Section 1 team with their hearts hanging in midair. 

However, as if the situation is not already bad enough, more troubles keep coming one after another. Not only are we behind in the score, but our goalkeeper has also been red-carded and sent off the field due to a mistake while charging out. 

My gaze shifts from the glaring red card to the referee’s finger–– pointing at the 12-yard mark. 

??: You’ve got to be kidding me! A penalty kick at this moment–– they’re giving us the full “red-card” combo! This is ridiculous! Can’t we protest this? 

??: Come on, move along. The match is over. 

??: It’s really a pity for the Section 1 team. The two teams were neck and neck for so long, and I thought a miracle might really happen. 

??: You’re overthinking it. It’s already a miracle that they managed to persist until now. Among those students of Section 9, six of them are sports prodigies, you know. 

The ceaseless buzz of murmurs and discussions lingers around me from all directions. Fine beads of sweat cling to my neck in disarray, and I wipe them away in irritation, my toes finding themselves stomping on the ground several times. 

The current situation is indeed far from optimistic. 

If we bring in a forward as a substitute for the goalkeeper, the odds of winning the game will be completely against us. 

Given that nothing can be done about the 10 vs. 11 situation we’re already in, what can we possibly do to level the score? 

My brain spins at a lightning pace, and suddenly, a somewhat bold idea springs to mind. 

With almost not the slightest hesitation, I raise my hand to draw the referee’s attention, requesting a substitution. 

Xiao Luo: ...but you hardly ever took on the role of a goalkeeper in the practice matches we had before, and now to substitute as... 

Victor: The key is not just to defend the goalpost. 

I interrupt the sports committee representative and earnestly shift my gaze to the coach and the team members on the field. 

Victor: Being a midfielder, if I take on the role of the goalkeeper, to some extent, it will create a similar sense of skepticism in the opposing team. 

Victor: Now, at this point in the game, it essentially boils down to a competition of stamina. 

While speaking, I turn my gaze to the substitutes who are about to replace the wingers on both sides. 

Substitute teammate: But doesn’t that mean we’re giving up control of the midfield by doing this? 

Victor: You’re right. But without taking risks, there will be no reward. 

Victor: My strategy is not something I can accomplish relying on my abilities alone. I need the trust and cooperation of every single one of you. 

Victor: I will surely block the penalty kick. 

After putting on the protective gloves, I clap my palms together vigorously twice, and in my peripheral vision, I can see the penalty taker also walking to the designated spot. 

Drawing a deep breath, I walk to the side of the goalpost, slightly arch my body, and then fix my gaze straight ahead. Inadvertently, I raise my hand and gesture towards the completely unguarded opposite side. 

For a moment, it feels as if all the eyes in the entire arena have turned towards me, causing me to fall into a trance and giving me the sensation as though I can hear the sound of time ticking away. 

Another whistle blows. 

The opponent clearly hesitates for a moment, as if trying to decipher whether my action is intended as a provocation, or it has some other meaning. 

But all of that is unimportant at this moment. 

He had already lost right at the second he hesitated and did not take a decisive shot. 

And that second was all I needed. 

── 

Xiao Luo: Victor! You’re really something! I can’t believe that pulling off such an unconventional strategy secured us a narrow victory! 

Victor: It was merely a draw, nothing more. 

Teammate: Well, that still counts as a victory in our book! Let’s go to Lao Beimen’s street stall; I’m treating everyone to soda, ice-cream, and grilled sausages! Victor, you coming with us? 

Victor: Sure, let’s go. 

Xiao Luo and Teammates: YES! 

Watching my fellow teammates, who have shared the sweat and toil, beam with expressions of elation as if they have scored a goal, I find myself smiling along with them. 

The afternoon heat is yet to subside, and pedestrians are seeking shelter beneath the shade of the trees as they move forward. Only we continue to walk under the sunlight, chatting and laughing among ourselves as we walk down the footbridge. 

The lady working at the newspaper stand places the newly arrived comics in a prominent spot, then sits down in the shaded area, fanning herself with a palm-leaf fan; 

The bright and youthful college students walk hand in hand, their phone charms clinking together, producing a crisp sound; 

Clad in their uniform, the junior high schoolers sport headphones as they wait for the bus to arrive. Who knows what they’re listening to, whether it’s some English listening exercise or popular music; 

The fine beads of sweat glisten with a radiant glow between the young boy’s hairline, while his red sportswear is eye-catching and vibrant, epitomizing the most splendid appearance one can have at his age.

I tighten the cords of my drawstring bag a little and skillfully keep the ball bouncing on my toes, maneuvering around a few bicycles on the lane without any people, and then use a bit of force to toss the ball in the air. 

The attempt to catch the ball with my knee isn’t executed perfectly, and the ball slightly slips out of control. 

I jog a couple of steps to catch up, throw the ball again, and catch it once more— and like this, I indulge in this self-amusing routine tirelessly. 

A light sheen of sweat lightly dampens the ends of my hair. I fling my head back a little and quicken my stride, allowing the gentle breeze to whisk away the residual heat. 

Even though it’s merely a school-level sports event, triumph always feels great, especially when your own efforts are so clearly visible. 

There are still two more intersections to go before we reach Lao Beimen’s stall. As I watch the several spiritedly hopping figures ahead of me, I decide to bring my own little celebration to an end. 

After all, this was merely a school-level soccer match; I couldn’t let satisfaction be so readily apparent on my face. 

The soccer ball bounces and produces a firm sound, while the fluttering clothes closely trails its trajectory. 

It’s only the sunshine that knows the young boy has been unknowingly sporting a smile at the corners of his lips, unmistakably revealing a look of satisfaction. 

────── ••• ─────

💘 【Calls】: Here!

───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

【Anika’s Ramblings】

—

[sotwk]

I just read "A stab to the heart", and first of all, I loved it, just... perfect! The way the Thranduil is so worried for her and he can sense when she wakes up is just way too good for me!

Honestly, the last line of the fic: "We saw ada frightened" just hit me so deep that I had to come here. So, I didn't check to see if you have already written about this in the headcannons masterlist (and I'm sorry if you did and I haven't noticed!) but how do you think that Thranduil and their kids reacted when she died? Like, how their feelings and thoughts after this? I've always assumed Thranduil being an extremely good father, so I can't truly imagine him being mean to any of their kids, but how do you think that they (specially Thranduil) took the news that their queen had died?

Eeek! What lovely feedback and an even lovelier fic-related question! (I am so lucky and grateful to get such nice Anons in my inbox; I am spoiled.)

A Stab to the Heart (Fic Link)

Part 2 of this 2-part fic is over 50% written, but has been stalled in the basement of my brain for over six months now (yikes)! Hopefully I can shove it back into motion soon!

In regards to Thranduil being so in-tune with his wife that their minds are practically in a constant state of ósanwë (Elvish mind-link), I would like to point out a few key details about their relationship:

"A Stab to the Heart" takes place in Third Age 1012. By this time, Thranduil and Maereth have already been married for 1,188 years and have been mutually in love for an additional 1,700. And ever since they married, they were hardly ever parted for any significant amount of time (as opposed to most other Elven couples, like Celeborn and Galadriel, who would live apart for years). Needless to say, you would be hard-pressed to find a couple more tightly, lovingly bonded then the Elvenking and Elvenqueen were to each other.

THEIR ROMANTIC HISTORY: (Link to related HCs HERE) It took Thranduil about 50 years of sporadic meetings to realize he was falling in love with Maereth. However, he knew his father would loathe the idea of his son pairing off with a Noldor (much less one descended from Fëanor) and it would have great repercussions on their kingdom, so Thranduil tried to ignore his growing feelings and sought to maintain just a friendship with her.

Maereth nearly died in the Sacking of Eregion, and Thranduil had been there to witness it; he had held her while she was gravely injured and felt the terror of her slipping away from him. Ultimately, she was saved by the healing of Elrond, but this experience left a permanent mark on Thranduil. From that day on, he found the only thing that ever scared him in his life: losing Maereth to the Halls of Mandos.

What do you do when you realize you love someone so much you cannot live without them? You ask them to marry you, of course! And so Thranduil did, but it took another thousand years of determined courtship to get Maereth to say "yes".

The Aftermath of the Elvenqueen's Death

I have yet to fully write the story of this terrible tragedy (I'm intimidated by it, to be honest), but a version of it was written, including the immediate aftermath, in my Thorin-centric fic, "The Broken Shield", where Maereth died during the War of the Dwarves and Orcs. I wrote out more details of her death in this headcanon post.

As for the reactions of the family (those who were left, anyway)?

OH BOY.

(SPOILERS to the SotWK AU, if anyone cares about that sort of thing, under the cut. Also, it gets pretty sad, so I apologize for the emotions this story may cause.)

Thranduil very nearly died from heartbreak. This was the darkest point in Mirkwood's history, the kingdom that had already been fighting off spiders, orcs, dark creatures, and poisons for centuries. All that was nothing compared to the realm's grief over their Elvenqueen's death, and fearing the likelihood their beloved Elvenking would either die from heartbreak, or finally leave them for the Undying Lands.

Note that by the time the Elvenqueen died, Thranduil had already lost three out of five of his sons. Only Gelir and Legolas remained, though he also had his daughter-in-law, Itarildë (Mirion's widow) and two grandchildren, Crown Prince Aranion (heir to the throne) and Princess Anariel.

Upon his return home to Mirkwood to bury the Elvenqueen's body, Thranduil was uncharacteristically cold and seemingly emotionless. He turned into stone (metaphorically) as a way of holding himself together, for the sake of the people who depended on him. He did not have strength left to properly comfort his family, and could only parrot the kingdom's motto, telling them they "will endure".

Gelir, the most impulsive of the Thranduilions (and second to Turhir as the most hot-tempered), lashed out in vengeful rage. Legolas just barely convinced him not to immediately ride out to seek revenge against the Orcs.

However, about three years after the Elvenqueen was laid to rest, Gelir once again tried to convince his father to allow him and Legolas to lead their armies to rejoin the Dwarves (Thrain's people) in their war against the orcs. Thranduil refused, and instead decreed that all travel to other realms was forbidden while the Dwarves fought their war.

Frustrated by this (and still grieving his mother), Gelir finally broke down and rebelled openly against the Elvenking. He attempted to leave Mirkwood on his own, only to be chased down by his father and dragged back to the Halls in chains, where he was thrown in prison.

Does this sound harsh? I take a pause in this dramatic tale to point out that Thranduil was a very, VERY good father to his sons all their lives. The Princes were over 2,000 years old by the time their mother died; not only were they adults, but they were wise enough to know that they were not exempt from their kingdom's laws, and should understand the grief their father carried from all these terrible losses. Not only did Thranduil need to demonstrate the strength of his authority, but he also refused to risk the death of another family member, even if it meant imprisoning his own child.

After the war ended in TA 2799, Gelir was finally released from prison, after being held there for 3 years. But instead of making peace with his father and submitting to the King's decrees, he openly criticized Mirkwood's isolationist policies, which had become even stricter after the Elvenqueen's death.

Legolas, caught between the two dearest people in the world to him, could not get them to reconcile their differences.

After another year of strife between father and son, Thranduil gave Gelir an ultimatum: reaffirm his fealty to the Elvenking and his laws, or be banished from the kingdom. Gelir, believing his home had become a "cage" that he refused to be locked in, chose banishment.

Gelir asked his brother to come with him, forcing Legolas to choose sides by staying with Thranduil. He remembered a prophetic plea his mother once made to him many years before her death: "above all, choose your father". His decision was also influenced by the special closeness he had with Thranduil.

Thus, Gelir left the kingdom in the winter of TA 2800, and cut off all contact with his family. Legolas was the only Thranduilion left.

For a century (TA 2800-2900), Thranduil struggled against his personal demons of anger and grief and longing to be with his beloved wife again. In spite of his depression however, he continued to govern his people effectively, but only with the help and loyalty of Legolas and his devoted daughter-in-law and grandchildren. (Note: SotWK AU does NOT accept the coldness and rift between Legolas and Thranduil as shown in the film adaptation. Legolas ultimately proves to be Thranduil's most steadfast son. The conflict between Tauriel and Thranduil, and her romance with Legolas, do not occur in SotWK either.)

In TA 2850, when Gandalf uncovered Sauron's identity as the Necromancer--something Thranduil had suspected for centuries, but his reports went unheeded--the Elvenking slowly began to return to himself, remembering the hard battle that still needed to be fought to protect his kingdom.

In TA 2911, Thranduil even began to loosen the restrictions against traveling outside of Mirkwood, when he allowed Itarildë and Anariel to join Gandalf in giving aid to the Hobbits of the Shire during the Fell Winter, just as their family had done previously during the Long Winter (TA 2758).

By the time Thorin and his Company arrived at Mirkwood in TA 2941, the remnants of the royal house of Thranduil were back in fighting form, although the Elvenking would always carry a longing for his wife that would not be healed until their reunion in Aman over a century into the Fourth Age.

For more Thranduil/Mirkwood headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Elves HC Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @freshalmondpandadonut @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @glassgulls @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @LiliDurin @quickslvxrr @ratsys @scyllas-revenge @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell

Other useful links:

Introduction to SotWK

Fanfiction Masterlist

Fanfiction Request Guidelines

[spookymystery67]

I Wish I Could Walk In Heels

AN: Yes. That's is the title lol. I caved and made an Ada story! Only problem is it will be long, slow burn and will take a few chapters before Ada is even introduced. Sorry about that. Also, I've never written a love story before, so we'll see how it goes. This story will take place mostly in the resident evil games and is mostly written for female readers as I don't know how to write for others. I am cross posting on ao3 with the username RaineyDaysInRaccoonCity. NO MINORS! MATURE PEOPLE ONLY. I'm not writing smut (maybe) but still, 18+. I will put trigger warnings for the story. Enjoy!

TW: Violence, blood/gore, implied/reference sexual assault, murder/death, zombies, mentioned human experimentation, ect. It's a Resident evil fic, I would hope you would know what you're getting into.

Chapter 1:

Zombies.

Never, in all your 20 years of life so far, did you ever think that zombies could actually become a thing. Yet, here you were, dealing with said zombies.

September 28, 1998 is when shit really hit the fan in Raccoon City. Before that, there were sporadic attacks and strange happenings all over the city the last few weeks. People seemingly having random psychotic breaks and brutally attacking strangers, friends, and family members. They would tear into them with their teeth and kill them in the process. The news covered it, though they never truly went into depth about what was the cause of these "psychotic breaks".

Of course, you knew exactly how this all started. Let's start from the beginning of your part in this chaos.

—

It was the summer of 1998. You had graduated high school two years prior in 1996. You were not really sure of exactly what career you wanted to pursue, unlike your peers, who all seemed to have a plan on what to do for the rest of their lives. You just knew that you wanted to do something involving writing.

Writing wasn't exactly your life long passion. More of a current interest you had taken up in high school. You have had many hobbies throughout your life, nothing ever quite taking your mind hostage like reading did. Reading was always something you enjoyed, and when you were six, you had expressed to your parents about wanting to be a professional reader. But, according to them, that wouldn't pay the bills. They had wanted you to become something more. Like a doctor or lawyer. Something you have never had any interest in.

Writing only became an interest when you realized you needed a plan besides "professional reader". It was the closest you could get to reading without becoming a librarian and disappointing your parents too much. Granted, they weren't very happy with that career choice either. But you had given up wanting their approval for everything and flew the nest right after graduation.

Now, you still need to make money for your apartment, and for life in general. You desperately wanted to move on from your dead-end job at a fast food place that you had been working at for two years now. It was sucking the life, and the minimal joy you had left, away from you. College? Not an option. Nor were you interested in the lifelong debt attached to it. 

Running low on options, you had decided to apply to be a journalist's assistant. No one that you had applied for was really interested in having you, a relatively fresh high school graduate with minimal to no experience in any field involving the career, work for them. All except for one person.

Ben Bertolucci.

Ben was a freelance investigative journalist. He's a caucasian man who wore glasses and a ponytail, along with a goatee on his face. He had come to Raccoon city after hearing about the strange murders in Arklay County. He believed that there was something deeper going on, that there was something at work that was preventing the police from investigating further into these cases. Though after weeks of dead ends, he felt he needed a fresh pair of eyes to assist him on this.

Ben had seen the potential in you. Or so he had told you. He saw a drive in you that you hadn't even noticed in yourself. A need to do what was right by the civilians of Raccoon City and do whatever it took in the process to get there. Even if you'd put yourself in danger.

"That is exactly what I need for this project. Someone who wants to seek out injustice and expose it for what it really is. To show the civilians what's really happening behind all the red tape." Ben had said. You couldn't help but agree to the job. You had felt that something wasn't right in Raccoon City. And you really wanted to get to the bottom of it. 

That all started with Umbrella.

You had both spent your time bribing and blackmailing Umbrella employees to get your information. This helped you learn that Chief Brian Irons had been accepting bribes to work for Umbrella and help cover up whatever shady shit they had going on. One informant had also briefly mentioned the orphanage being connected with Umbrella. They had never mentioned exactly how, too afraid to reveal that information. 

That had filled you with dread. What could be so bad that they were afraid to say? You theorized that maybe those adoptions weren't actually adoptions. What they could have been doing to those kids, you didn't know. Now your curiosity had peaked, and you desperately needed answers.

All these bits and pieces of the puzzle were connecting, but nothing was giving you the bigger picture. Umbrella, Irons, orphanage, strange attacks and murders. All connected, but how and why exactly wasn't known. You needed more than just bits. You needed everything. 

So you both came up with a plan, Ben would investigate more on Irons, and you, Umbrella. An Umbrella employee had agreed to help get you in. He seemed to be out for a bigger profit than he gets working for Umbrella and wanted out. He didn't tell you exactly how he would be getting the bigger profit, and you weren't sure he was reliable, but you would cross that bridge when you came to it.

You're probably wondering, why did Ben get the "easier" end of investigation? Shouldn't he be attempting to infiltrate Umbrella, what with him having more experience?  Well, for one, Ben had already made a name for himself in Umbrella. His failed interview with Annette Birkin had put him on a list. 

Adding on to that, you both learned that not only was Irons sketchy with work and who he dealt with, he was also a major creep. Some women had expressed how he would make nasty, sexual, innuendos towards them and borderline harass them. He would get away with it all, of course. He was the Chief of police after all. A "hero" to the people of Raccoon City. He would never do such a thing.

Now, this was all from word of mouth. No physical evidence to prove it. But one person who had also, unfortunately, encountered Irons was Katherine Warren, daughter of the Mayor of Raccoon city. Her word you trusted, as she was your best friend, and now,  a secret lover of Ben's. 

-September 20th, 1998-

"Trust me, he is a disgusting man. Always looking at me with a hunger in his eyes that makes me nauseous. I can't tell if he wants to sleep with me or murder me." Katherine grimaced as she popped a fry in her mouth. Her pretty blonde hair was in a casual updo and her blue sweater was wrapped snugly against her pale skin, pulled up slightly at the sleeves to avoid ketchup stains.

The three of you were at a corner booth in a quiet and secure diner for lunch. A quaint little place you three liked to hang out at to hide away from the world. Katherine was sitting in the booth across from you and to the left of Ben, who had a protective arm around her shoulders and a sour look on his face.

You cringed from the way she described the man. "Why do you talk to him? He sounds awful." You asked as you reached for a french fry from her plate. 

"The only reason I interact with him is because of my father. He brings me to these charity parties and Irons is always there. I have to play nice." She smacked your grabby hand away from her plate. You playfully pouted and took a bite of your garden salad that you now regret getting after looking at those fries. Kathrine eventually took pity on you and allowed you to take a few fries from her plate as Ben chuckled at the scene, briefly forgetting the topic at hand.

"Bottom line, it's best you stay away, Y/n. You're a young, attractive woman and you are bound to make it on to Irons radar rather than around it. Ben might have better luck sneaking around for whatever you two are looking for. I really don't want you getting his attention." Kathrine finished.

She didn't have an in-depth idea of what you two were doing. She just knew it was big, and potentially dangerous, if things were to go south. But she was happy to help however she could for her best friend and boyfriend.

Ben and you shared a solemn glance, agreeing with that statement. You'd only attract attention. He'd be better with dealing with Irons in this scenario. He would have to be careful, what with Umbrella having put him on the watch list.

"Alright, looks like I might get the harder job huh?" You weakly joked to the two.

"I'm not worried. I have faith in you, Y/n." Ben grinned.

"That makes one of us." This was a lot. You weren't sure if you would be able to make it into Umbrella's secret lab and get data without getting caught. There was a lot at stake here, and you couldn't let anyone down.

"Two of us. I believe in you too." Kathrine added, reaching forward to grab your hand over the table in comfort. She's sweet. Sometimes too sweet. Makes you think that she doesn't deserve this corrupted world around her. 

"You've got this. Come on, Y/n. You've helped me get so far on this case in the last few months than I ever would have on my own. I chose you to help me because I saw your potential. And you have yet to disappoint me. If anyone can do this, it's you." Ben said seriously. He stared you right in the eye, wanting you to know that he meant every word of what he said. 

Ben knew you suffered from serious self doubt and that you always thought you did everything wrong. He thought that it might have come from your childhood. When he became not only your employer, but your friend as well, he had set out to make you get rid of that habit. He and Katherine combined had been making some progress in that.

You sighed, "Alright. I can do this." Still not convinced.

"Okay, progress. Now I want you to repeat that back to me again, but this time make it more believable. You need to believe in yourself." He said, gesturing at you to repeat yourself.

"Really? You're giving me a therapy lesson right now?" 

"Yes. When's a better time? It's now or never. Now, go on."

You looked at Katherine in disbelief, but she just nodded as she bit her lip, trying not to laugh. You looked back at Ben, who just raised a brow.

"I can do this." You muttered quietly but firmly.

"Louder."

"I can do this." You said louder. Not loud enough to attract other attention, but enough to satisfy both Ben and Katherine.

"That's what I like to hear." Ben grinned dorkily. You couldn't help but burst out laughing at his face, Katherine joining with a bright smile on her face.

Little did you three know, this would be the last time you would all sit in this diner together. 

-September 22nd, 1998-

Infiltrating Umbrella really shouldn't have been easy. It really shouldn't have. But all you needed was a guest pass. Which is interesting considering this place was supposed to be secret. What kind of guests are coming to a secret lab?

You were dressed in black dress pants, a short sleeved white shirt, a dark navy blue buttoned up cardigan and black flats. You also had your backpack full of essentials. Your notebook, pencils, water bottle, flashlight, granola bar and a flash drive.

When you arrived, your informant told you that this place was called NEST.

NEST was constructed fairly recently and ran along the Arklay mountains not far from Raccoon City, sitting directly underneath the Umbrella Chemical Plant. Tunnels were throughout and around the city, giving different access points in and out. It was built sometime in 1991. For what, you may be wondering? 

Well, your informant told you that the main reason it was built was to expand research on something called the G-virus. The G-virus being the main reason. Although research on the G-virus wasn't the only thing Umbrella was working on.

To get more information, you and your informant and temporary partner in crime, Frederic Downing, had to get to level B5F, where the G-virus research was taking place. The problem was security was tight, with a security office sitting closely to the lab to keep the research safe.

"The first security team goes on break in ten minutes. Once they exit that door, we have exactly three minutes before the second team comes to replace them." Downing said once he got you near, but hidden enough, to the entrance of the level. 

"Right, that should hopefully be enough time to get information on the G-virus and whatever else I can store on this flash drive then get out, right?" You questioned the British man, holding the drive tightly in your hand. 

"Yes. Umbrella's technology is state of the art and speedy, but weak to certain hacker offenses from the inside. You should get by no problem as long as you've got the overdrive code your friend gave you. You have it? " He asked.

Friend is a loose term, more acquaintance. You helped him out a while ago and, conveniently, he just so happened to owe you a favor. You needed his hacking skills and he pulled through by giving you a fool proof passcode to get through any firewall easy peasy.

You pulled out a notebook that was full of notes and the passcode out of your backpack. You were worried that the backpack would attract attention, but Downing had said there were many students that Umbrella felt had potential that visited the NEST from time to time. He was right. He vouched for you at the entrance security and you were in like that.

You flipped to the page. "Right here." You said, holding up the page.

"Alright. In six minutes, we're a go." But just as he had finished that sentence, alarms started going off. His face paled with obvious worry.

"What? What the hell does that mean?" I questioned anxiously.

"The Hunter R test subjects were released." He looked at the door and quickly pulled you down to a hiding spot as it slid open.

You both watched as the security team, donning guns, ran out and down the opposite way from where you both were hiding. 

You waited until the hall was cleared before standing. 

"What are Hunter R's?" You questioned, pen in hand ready to write it down. You're worried, but your job is to get any information down. Danger be damned.

"You'll find out one way or another. Either by the flash drive we're about to get or by encountering them. Let's hope it isn't the latter." He quickly ran to the door with you in tow, placing his bracelet near the chip reader, making it beep and open.

He quickly beacons you to follow him down a long hall. He gets you to one of the computers in a room across from Birkins lab, just out of sight in case he was still there.

"Do what you need to. Fast. I'll take watch." He does as he said, standing near the door to watch for any signs of movement.

You quickly get to work, putting the flash drive in the slot and typing the passcode into the computer. The sirens blaring in your ear drums and ricocheting through your head. You're going to have a migraine at this rate.

The code worked, you're in. You quickly begin to type in the command code, making any document, file, and anything else useful store itself into the flash drive. As it does so, you take the time to skim through the files, looking through keywords you might recognize. Good thing you're a fast reader.

Orphanage. Oh god. This was worse than you and Ben had thought it was. Far worse.

They weren't adopted. Far from it. They were taken from Umbrella and used for experiments. Raccoon City's very own chief of police covering it up. The man who swore to protect the civilians. Figures.

Progenitor virus. The basis for all viruses Umbrella have developed or are developing.

T-virus. Or the Tyrant virus. Likely the cause of some the random psychotic breaks and attacks. It can sustain its host near death. So only those alive can get infected. The virus mutates and kills the host in the process.

G-virus. Or Golgotha or God virus. What Birkin has been working on. Like the T-virus, it causes rapid mutation and aggression to whomever is infected with it. But unlike the T-virus, it can reanimate dead tissue.

And- oh, that's what the Hunter R's are…There's a whole list of Umbrella's creations. This is horrific.

What kind of people can just experiment on children, on people, and not bat an eye? Umbrella has been testing and genetically altering viruses. Creating things that should only exist in horror movies. 

But why? What's the motive?

"Hurry up, Y/n!" Downing told you.

From what you've gathered, Umbrella has created these viruses, mutating animals and people. But why? Oh. Their goal is to develop the ultimate weapons. Bio Organic Weapons. To get the upper hand in wars by replacing the military with monsters.

How much was the United States government aware of what's going on here? You didn't know. But you figured they had some knowledge. And that Umbrella may have some insiders within the government pulling strings and making decisions.

"Y/n! Let's go!" Downing was nervous. Rightfully so. You take note of the sirens having stopped.

You needed to get out of there. You finished storing and saving everything and grabbed the flash drive, shoving it down your front, right, dress pants pocket to make sure it was secure. You toss your notebook back into your backpack and quickly put it on.

"Alright. Come on." You said, speedily meeting him at the door. 

But as you are about to leave, you stumble upon a scene. You noticed a team of four men, armed with combat gear and machine guns. They were surrounding a blonde man you know as William Birkin, who was carrying a briefcase protectively. You quickly pull Downing to a crouch and hide out of sight.

"Doctor Birkin, you'll come along with us quietly." One of the armed men said.

"You think I didn't know you were coming? This is my life's work! I'm not handing over anything!" Birkin exclaimed.

"We have our orders, Dr. Birkin. I'll ask you one more time…" The man said.

Birkin paused, looking at the four men who had their guns pointed at him, before deciding. 

It all happened so fast. Birkin attempted to grab his hand gun from his side when one man quickly fired his gun at him. Birkin collapsed to the ground, filled with bullet holes and becoming surrounded by a pool of his own blood. You put a hand over your mouth to muffle any sounds of shock that might escape, still hidden with Downing and watching the scene unfold.

"Stop! Hold your fire!" The man yelled.

The shooting stopped and a silence filled the air. One man goes over to check if Birkin was alive. Dead.

"What the fuck were you thinking? Our orders were to bring him in alive!" The man exclaimed to the man who shot Birkin. He sighed and turned to talk to someone on what you assumed was a comm.

"We're in sir. But we had a snafu. Target resisted, we had to take him out." He paused. "That's correct, sir… Roger that. Just the samples then." He finished. 

One of the men grabbed the breif case and they turned to head out.

"Let's move." The man said.

The men leave and you slowly walk out of your hiding place. Downing quickly rushed around the lab to find something. Turning over drawers and papers.

"What are you doing?" You questioned.

"Earning a bigger profit." He grinned as he found what he was looking for. He held up a vial of something and your eyes widened.

"Is that…is that the G-virus?" You asked.

"A version of it, yes. A small sample. But it will make me a handsome fortune on the black market." He pocketed the vial and went to leave.

"Wait! You can't just take it and sell it! You know how dangerous it is!" You exclaimed. He nodded in agreement.

"Which is why it will make me rich. You got what you wanted. I got what I wanted. I think this is where we part ways, dear. Bye now." He said as he rushed out of the room. You'll end up lost in this place without him.

"Wai-" you started to follow but stopped when you saw Birkin twitch. You notice an empty vial next to him and gasp. You slowly backed away toward a wall to his right as he stood up and faced the exit the men had left through, nearly bumping into a blonde woman who looked at the scene with shock.

You make eye contact with the woman and her eyes flashed with confusion before shaking her head and facing Birkin. Judging by a photo you saw on his desk and from what Ben told you, you can assume this is Annette Birkin.

You stood slightly behind the woman and out of his line of sight. He panted as he glared at the exit angrily.

"What have you done?" Annette gasped to her husband.

"G is my creation!" He wailed. He started to pant and grunt in pain, something within him shifting. He walked toward the exit and his wife quickly ran and grabbed the gun on the floor next to the puddle of blood. He grunted in pain and she pointed the gun at him.

"William!" She exclaimed. She seemed desperate for any sign of recognition within him.

He continued walking to the exit, grunting and panting, ignoring his wife. She looked to be considering shooting him, but she just put the gun down after a moment of consideration. 

You watched wide eyed as he left after the soldiers, beginning to mutate into this grotesque being, lab coat ripping as his body grew and his right arm begging to form into this rotted, muscular limb with a yellow eyeball attached. That must be where he injected the G-virus.

"Who are you?" Annette Birkin asked. You turned to look at her and saw her gun was pointed at you. You quickly put your hands up.

"No one! Literally no one. I was just passing through." You told her. She didn't seem to believe you though.

"I won't ask you again, who are you? And why are you here?" She asked, lifting the gun higher.

You had to come up with something on the spot. So why not rat out the bastard who ditched you before getting you out of here.

"Downing! You know Downing?" You asked. She nodded for you to continue. "Well, he brought me here to show off his workplace. Thought it would impress me enough to get me to sleep with him. He ditched me after taking something from that drawer when that guy was bleeding out on the ground." You explained. Well, it was the partial truth.

She seemed to have believed you, or just didn't care enough to have you explain more, and sighed. "Was it shaped like a vial?" She questioned.

"Yeah, like those." You nodded as you pointed to the empty glass vials on the desk.

"Damn it!" She exclaimed in frustration. She lowered the gun away from you. You slowly relaxed your arms and backed away a single step. Annette ran a hand over her tired eyes, seemingly in disbelief over all the shit that has gone wrong in a single night. 

You two stood there for a minute, silence deafening as you took a moment to gather your thoughts. You hesitantly step forward.

"Look, ma'am, I really want to get out of here. I don't really know where I am. Any chance you can help?" You asked her. She turned to look and study your features, seeming to have an internal debate, before sighing once more and nodding.

"Of course. We were put in lock down briefly, but the exits should still be accessible. You have a gun?" She asked you. You shook your head no. You're a reporter's assistant. So definitely not.

She walked over to a drawer and pulled it open, shuffled through it for a moment, before pulling out a small pistol and three ammo magazines. She walked back over and handed you the gun and ammo.

"Here, it's already loaded. Each magazine had ten bullets in them. You know how to use it?" She asked. You shook your head once more. Again. Reporter's assistant.

She quickly went over gun safety 101. How to reload. How to use the safety button. Make sure that you're pointing away from yourself when you pull the trigger. Everything seemed pretty straight forward. The aiming will depend on you. 

"Alright. Follow me and try to keep up. I will not stop for you if you fall behind." Annette said.

You nodded in understanding and followed her out of the room and into the hallways. You made sure to keep somewhat of a distance and observe your surroundings. Blood occasionally smeared throughout the hallways. You watched for the labels on the walls and for any potential monster running at you with the intent to kill.

You and Annette make it to a long hallway, the lights being broken make the whole area dark. You slowed to a stop. Two bodies of former scientists lay bloodied and bruised on the ground in the middle of the hall. Bones were snapped in half and poked out in awkward directions. Deep scratch marks littered their bodies and gory bite marks their necks. Likely the finishing move of whatever killed them. Upon closer inspection, you also noticed another dead body in shredded combat gear, much like the men you saw before. He had two grenades on the floor next to him. One was a flash, the other a normal hand grenade.

"The exit is just through this way. We'll have to be quiet and keep a watchful eye out." Annette whispered. You nodded in agreement, lifting your gun with the safety off along with Annette, and slowly walked into the room.

Your eyes had to slowly adjust to the dark the deeper you went down the hall. The flashlight you packed was still in your backpack. You noticed a bright red exit sign not far from the direction Annette was leading you toward. You stood a few feet behind her as she led the way. As you step besides the armed, dead man, you hear a growl from the opened closet door up ahead to the right of Annette.

She froze, gun down and still facing the exit, too afraid to move. 

The growling continued. You, out of sight of the closet in front of you with gun in hand, slowly crouched down to the body in combat gear, left hand moving to grab the flash and hand grenade.

You place the hand grenade in your cardigan pocket, before grabbing the flash grenade next. You slowly pulled the pin out with your teeth, growling continuing while Annette stood still, and prepared to throw. 

You slowly take a step forward. Stopped, aimed, and quickly rolled the flash grenade through the door as the growling turned to screeching. You ran to Annette and pushed her away from the door and toward the exit. You both stumbled as the grenade let off a loud bang and bright flash, briefly blinding you both. 

You quickly recovered and pushed Annette through the door, shutting it behind you. She jogged ahead to a ladder and started climbing up, the ladder leading to the outside world.

You ran right behind her, but stopped when you heard screeching from behind the door you had just come from. You turned and saw the door rattling and made a decision. You ran up to the ladder as Annette finally made it through the hole in the ceiling. You climbed as fast as you could as the door rattling became more and more intense.

You just make it through the hole and to solid ground when the door bursts open. You grabbed the grenade, pulled the pin with your teeth, turned, and threw it down the hole. 

The grenade immediately exploded. Causing the ladder and bits of the hall to fall apart. The monster shrieked in pain as debris fell on it, making the ladder and exit unusable. 

Annette quickly shut the hatch to the hole and locked it up. You sat on the ground as you gasped for air, out of breath from all the action that just happened. You glanced around at your surroundings and realized you're in a secluded alleyway somewhere in the city. You looked at your watch and saw that it was an hour after midnight. September 23rd.

Annette stood up, "You need to get out of here. Get out of the city if you can. Things are about to get real messy. It's best if you stay away." She turned and walked away without saying anything further.

You debated on whether or not to follow her, but decided that you should follow the plan and meet up with Ben at the Apple Inn to share what you learned.

You sighed, standing up and dusting off your dirtied cardigan. You walked out of the alley and realized where you were, beginning your trek to the Inn Ben was staying at.

[violetsaffron5]

Beautiful Disaster (1)

series masterlist • Chapter 2 →

↳ 1 | Memories

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

Gojo Satoru: confident, flippant, an all-around red flag. It’s a wonder why you started a multi-year tumultuous relationship with him that alters the course of your life and those around you.

cw: violence, profanity, heavy drinking/mention of drugs

words: 4k

an: i changed the name of this fic bc i wanted to pls don't come after me (or do i'm not your mother)

an2.0: broke this chapter into two parts so it wasn't a random 10,000 word first chapter, porn next chapter though

Taglist • Ao3 • Discord 18+ • Social Media • Series Masterlists

April 2018

You wake six minutes before your alarm is set to go off. The room is dark and cold, but the bed you’re laying in is warm, soft and cozy. Your head aches from the lack of sleep you got last night, having stayed up entirely way too late in nervous anticipation for this weekend.

When you stretch, the warm body next to you pulls you in close to him, begging for five more minutes before you roll out of bed and inevitably leave.

You grant him that wish, snuggling in closer and place several chaste kisses to his lips before he runs his hands along the curve of your spine down to your ass, grabbing a handful, tugging you closer to him. You gasp, feeling his hard length press against your stomach and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth, gliding it against yours, groaning softly as he rocks his hips into you gently.

“I really have to go, otherwise I’m going to be late.”

He huffs before kissing the tip of your nose, “You’re right. Utahime can be a bitch like that.”

“Be nice,” you scold while rolling out of bed and grabbing the bag you pre-packed before changing into your clothes for traveling, kissing your partner, ensuring them that you’ll see them later and head out for the weekend's festivities.

A bullet train and several hours later you’ve reached your destination, just outside of Kyoto at a beautiful venue. The main building is white, traditional with several other smaller buildings resembling the primary one scattered across the lawn.

There are several cherry blossom trees in full bloom where wait staff are setting up various chairs; the wooden archway and florists are getting the flowers setup along the aisle and on the arch posts.

As you take in the view around; the ponds with cherry blossom leaves falling elegantly into the water, the sporadic rays of the sun filtering through the branches of the trees, you absentmindedly run your thumb along your ring finger before sighing and continuing your trek along the cement path.

Walking inside the main building, the floors are marble, with a modern grand staircase leading up to the bridal suite where you’re greeted by several college friends, including Utahime, who walks over and embraces you awkwardly, never having been one to show physical affection.

“You made it, on time even.” She comments in surprise as you chuckle, telling her how you barely made it out of the house with a certain someone trying to coax you back into bed.

She grimaces before excusing herself to go smoke a cigarette, to your surprise, out on the balcony while the other ladies giggle, changing into their outfits for lunch.

Manami Suda makes her way into the room holding a glass of champagne and squealing before taking a seat at one of the vanities near you.

“Did you hear Gojo’s going to be here this weekend?”

You give a curt nod and take a deep breath before sitting in front of the vanity next to hers, turning on the curling iron. It’s a subject you were hoping would be avoided the majority of the weekend, but clearly you’re not going to get that lucky.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Listen,” she says, suddenly serious which makes your brows knit together, “this weekend is about Utahime and -”

You glare at her from the corner of your eye, grabbing a section of hair wrapping it around the tool before letting it go, watching the perfect curl fall next to your face.

“We’re all adults, I’m pretty sure I can handle seeing him for a few hours.”

“I just want to make sure there’s not going to be any drama between the two of you.”

“There won’t be, so let’s just change the subject, okay?”

“Okay,” Manami replies quietly, “want help with your hair?”

You nod and give a half-hearted smile as Manami walks over and begins curling the rest of your hair telling several anecdotes with the rest of the bridal party about Utahime, how they all met and how they’re so excited for this luncheon and the ceremony that’s going to take place in a few days.

All the while, you stare at yourself in the mirror, smiling along with everyone else and laughing when they laugh, a sour feeling filling the pit of your stomach as you think about the events that have transpired over the years that brought you here, by Utahime’s side, of all people, before she walks down the aisle to the love of her life.

September 2011

You’ll never forget the moment you first laid eyes on him.

Skin glistening with sweat in a basement of one of the off-campus university houses, dim lights accentuating the curve of each of his toned, sinewy muscles. Ivory hair damp, lip and eyebrow busted and bleeding from the cuts he received prior to you walking into the crowded space.

It’s a small, cramped room, filled to the brim with other students yelling, screaming and booing while he wipes the sweat from his forehead and blood from his lip with the back of his hand, chest heaving up and down with each deep breath he takes.

You’re making your way through the mob, hand cupped tight to Shoko’s as she leads the way to the front. There’s a yellow ring spray painted on the floor and inside only the white haired man and two others are located. One looks as if he’s acting as a referee, with strawberry pink hair on top and a chocolate colored fade just below. The other person is flat on his back, face turned away from you; he’s clearly been knocked out.

Through the horde a tall man appears, black skin-tight shirt, well defined muscles so visible through the thin layer of fabric he may as well not have one on, his gray sweats hang low on his hips as he bends over, checking the pulse of the boy on the floor.

The room goes quiet and the scent of copper and perspiration fills the room, more noticeable than before as you wait for the verdict. The man stands, with the other boy in his arms, hanging off his shoulder loosely, head dangling towards the ground and walks him out of the ring towards the entrance you just came through.

“Everyone shut the fuck up,” the peach haired man says, tattoos sprawling across his face, eyes small and somehow crimson as he speaks into a bullhorn when the the room explodes with rambunctiousness again. “You all know how this goes: betting ends once the opponent hits the floor, no touching or assisting the fighters in any way and no encroachment on the ring. Break any of these rules, and you’ll get your ass beat.”

Everyone in the room is intent on bloodshed and you wonder if you’re going to be able to make it out unscathed as you stand near the border of the ring. You’re being pushed and bumped into, the sea of people spilling their beers and other beverages as many of them try to make their way to the front, pushing you into Shoko so they can get a better view.

When you came to tour the campus last week and learn your way around, you met two people during orientation - Ieiri Shoko and Geto Suguru. Both were happy to help you get acquainted and show you around, both surprised to learn you were transferring to Tokyo Tech for your sophomore year - the same year as them.

You explained that you wanted to get further away from home, and how Tokyo Tech has courses that are more suited for your degree, so in an effort to be more independent, you opted to go ahead and transfer rather than procrastinating and trying to wait until senior year.

Shoko took the opportunity to show you to the dorms, to where your room is and let you know her room is just a few doors down the same hall, and Suguru let you know there’s a party at his place off campus during Welcome Week, and invited the two of you to come.

Shoko and Suguru were already acquainted with one another and in an effort to make friends, you agreed to come, but an underground fight club is not what you were anticipating to find out about during your first week at this college, or ever really.

The emcee continues to hold the bullhorn to his lips, introducing the fighters for the next round, “alright, this fucker needs no introduction, but I’ll give him one anyway: Gojo Satoru.”

The crowd explodes into whoops and hollers like this guys is a fucking celebrity of some sort.

“What’s the deal with him?” You lean towards Shoko, yelling into her ear so she can hear you over the noise.

“Gojo’s undefeated, started fighting the day Sukuna started this in an abandoned Wendy’s parking lot last year as freshmen. Everyone loves it - sick bastards.”

“How has the school not shut it down?” You ask, eyes trailing Gojo’s movements as he walks around the ring, stretching his shoulders and cracking his neck from side to side, spitting out some blood from his lip in the process.

“The big guy earlier, the one who carried that freshmen out - that’s Toji Fushiguro, one of the professors here. He helped Sukuna start this, keeping an ear out if there’s any talk in the school from the higher-ups. Occasionally these fights will be moved to someone else’s basement, or even back at the parking lot just in case the school decides to investigate.”

You nod in understanding as a young bleached blonde steps into the ring, cracking his knuckles. He looks to be wearing eyeliner, which seems to be an odd choice when getting ready to fight, since it would just smear with sweat, his ears are also covered in earrings which seems like an even worse choice in a fight with barely any rules.

“Who lives in this house then?”

“Sukuna, the emcee,” she nods her head in his direction, “Geto and Gojo, though it’s not uncommon for people to spend the night after these parties, since the house is so big.”

It’s true - the house is large but also a mess. When you made your way across campus and down the street the house sits on, you could hear the music blasting from the corner, several cars lined the driveway and even sat in the yard. Some of them looked incredibly expensive, others slammed or souped up.

The house itself is two stories, white siding with plenty of windows for natural light. There are columns on the front porch holding up a balcony on the top floor. The yard was a mess with red cups and empty bottles strewn across the grass. A typical college party house.

Inside, you didn’t get to see much as Shoko grabbed your hand and led you down the steps immediately.

“Here we’ve got a newbie freshman, trying to prove his worth: Zenin Naoya!” Sukuna states, raising his hand in the air.

You watch as the two men interact with one another with some familiarity, Gojo leans down, whispering something in Zenin’s ear, which clearly upsets him judging by the knitted brows and pissed off look in his eyes, he looks as if he’s about to murder someone while Gojo stands, bouncing on the tips of his toes looking mildly amused with himself.

The two take a few steps back from one another before Sukuna drops his hand. Zenin immediately takes a defensive stance while Gojo throws several punches at the same time several people jab you in your own side, trying to get a better view, pushing you out of the way and slightly into the ring.

“Fuck off, dude!” Shoko yells, grabbing you by the elbow and pulling you back into her.

When you finally look back into the ring, Zenin’s face is already bloodied and Gojo’s lip is bleeding again. Zenin grabs Gojo with his muscular arms and wraps a leg around Gojo’s, trying to grapple him to the ground, but without losing balance, Gojo’s other knee connects with Zenin’s face causing him to stumble backwards.

Zenin isn’t able to recover before Gojo lands a series of blows to his face before landing one final punch to Zenin’s nose, causing his eyes to roll back and his body crashing onto the concrete floor with a loud thud, blood from his nose spraying out and gushing down the side of his face.

The room grows quiet for a moment again before Sukuna mutters a “shit,” and grabs the bullhorn once again, “that’s enough for tonight. Go party, shit heads.”

Gojo doesn’t seem fazed, standing tall, breathing heavy again with blood running down his chin. He looks out into the crowd as if he’s looking for someone. There’s a churning in your stomach that happens the moment his eyes lock with yours; they’re wild and unhinged, which makes you queasy from the intensity. But at the same time, so beautiful, crystalline and blue, filled with a passion you’ve never experienced before.

Like a beautiful disaster just waiting to happen.

He grins at you, it’s lopsided and alluring, the dim light of the basement casting a golden halo over his skin. You smile back, biting your lower lip before Shoko grabs your elbow, pulling you back the way you came.

“We’re taking shots!” Shoko shouts as soon as you’re in the kitchen. The island is set up with bottles and bottles of alcohol along with stacks of red plastic cups lined, some empty to be used, others filled and left behind by the owner.

Shoko grabs a few of the cups, filling them with vodka before handing you one, clinking your cup with hers you gulp it down, wincing and scrunching your nose at the taste before she fills your cup again, taking another.

She’s able to drink more than you anticipated, and she seems unaffected when her friend, Utahime, appears by her side, joining her when you tap out after the back to back shots.

Utahime is in a pair of cute overalls, with a black shirt underneath, her silky black hair is down going past her shoulders with half of it pulled back with a red ribbon. Her eyes are a gorgeous deep set brown. She’s stunning when she smiles brightly at Shoko whose caramel brown hair barely touches her shoulder, the sides tucked behind her ear as she laughs at something Utahime says.

She looks less tired tonight than when you met her last week, the deep purple bags under her eyes less prominent, like she was able to get plenty of rest last night. She’s in pre-med, studying her ass off to go to a good medical school, on top of working part-time at a local restaurant where she works with Utahime, whom you met earlier in the evening while getting ready to go out with Shoko.

In an effort to not be attached to her hip all night, you make your way down the hall and out into the living room. It’s a large open space, a huge sectional couch taking up most of it with a coffee table in the center littered with more drugs than you’ve seen in your entire life along with several bottles of alcohol and a giant TV hung up on the opposite side with surround sound speakers.

Suguru is standing on the opposite side of the couch, facing the direction you just walked in from, talking with a few ladies with bleached blonde hair. Next to him is the emcee from the basement, Sukuna.

He smiles and nods his head, patting the pink haired man on the shoulder and excusing himself as he makes his way over to you. He greets you with a quick “hey,” and a hug which you happily return in your tipsy state.

“You good?” Suguru asks curiously as he pulls away, looking at the goofy grin on your face.

“I’m actually so good right now.”

You were secretly hoping to run into Suguru and be able to spend more time with him tonight. He’s incredibly attractive with his chiseled jaw, gauged ears and glossy ebony hair pulled back into a bun that sits on top of his head. Suguru has an aura about him that’s just calming and makes you feel good about yourself.

“I didn’t see you downstairs.”

“I came up to help Toji with the kid who got knocked out earlier.”

The two of you make your way to the couch as you explain how you must have just missed each other because the kid was being walked out when you arrived with Shoko.

“So, is this like, some fucked up wonderland for drugs?” You ask, nodding towards the coffee table.

Geto laughs before shaking his head, “nah, but Sukuna would appreciate that you said that. Want anything?”

You’re looking at the assortment of pills, powders and liquids on the table as Sukuna walks over, “your boy likes the powder, the other is a fan of the pill.”

“The other?” You look at Sukuna confused.

“Satoru,” Suguru says, “he was the one fighting in the ring earlier.”

You hum and watch as Suguru pops one of the pills into his mouth. “That freshman was already trying to fight him. Doesn’t the semester start in a few days?”

“They’ve known each other for a long time. Family businesses are entwined.” Sukuna states, lighting a joint before offering it to you, which you decline. The night is still young and you want to catch up with Shoko and Utahime again later, so it’s best not to get too fucked up and have to rely on one of your new found friends to care for you.

That’d be embarrassing on your first night out on campus.

“If you’re not gonna smoke, let's go get something to drink,” Geto offers before grabbing your hand and leading you towards the kitchen. You wave to Sukuna just before a girl with light pink hair grabs Geto’s other hand, getting his attention.

“Suguru,” she wines, “can you help me really quick?”

He purses his lips, looking over to you where you smile and say, “go ahead. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

You chuckle to yourself and roll your eyes as you walk down the hall towards the kitchen, placing your hand on the wall a few times to balance yourself so you don’t accidently trip over your own feet.

“Still don’t see why you care.” An icy tone from the kitchen says before you stumble in seeing the voice belongs to Gojo, leaned against the counters, a lit cigarette between his fingers before bringing it to his glossy lips, taking a drag.

“Because these fights are fucking animalistic, and your image affects me too.” There’s a woman with straight silver-tinted hair standing across the kitchen island, her eyes sharp and filled with furry as she stares at the ivory haired man, ignoring your presence.

Gojo shrugs, “sounds like a you problem,” the smoke be inhaled earlier leaving through his nose and mouth as he pushes off the counter, snubbing the cigarette along the way and going to the island to pour himself a drink.

The woman scoffs, grabbing her own cup and stomping out of the kitchen rather dramatically in your opinion. You purse your lips and avoid looking at him as you grab a new cup, dumping a dark colored soda you don’t bother reading the name of with one of the clear liquors, and pour a generous amount in, swirling your cup to mix them.

“You look uncomfortable.” Gojo says, making you look up to meet his gaze.

The lights in the kitchen are brighter than the ones in the basement, showing off his jawline and high cheekbones, all sharp edges. His eyes are somehow brighter in this light as well, more crystal clear like the ocean surrounded by thick, long, fluffy white lashes. He’s in a black shirt with dark jeans now, the cuts on his lip and eyebrow no longer bleeding.

“Uh, what?” Your brows raise and you blink several times because yes you are obviously uncomfortable from having accidentally walked in on their private conversation.

“Gojo Satoru,” he says smoothly, “you look great, by the way.”

Your cheeks flush at the sudden compliment, before muttering a thanks. You tell him your name in response and he says it several times, tasting it on his tongue like fine wine, eyes watching your every movement.

“That’s a beautiful name. Really suits you, just like that dress.” His eyes unashamedly wander your body before he comes to stand next to you. He’s confident, cocky and his mere presence is intoxicating. “You new?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Freshmen?”

“Sophomore.”

“Hm. Maybe we’ll have some classes together.” He grins down at you as you crane your neck up to him because he’s so, so much taller than he looked in the basement earlier.

“What’s your major?”

Gojo tells you he’s pre-law, hoping to get a good internship junior year and make his way into an Ivy League law school. You tell him your major and the classes you’re taking, but he just says “guess you’ll have to wait and see,” when you ask if there are any classes you have together.

You roll your eyes and laugh, taking a sip of your drink, watching him smile over the rim of your cup.

“You don’t seem uptight. I think most uptight people just aren’t being fucked all that well.”

You cough and sputter into your drink, not having expected him to say that, “is, uh, is that what her problem was?” You nod your head towards the entryway to the kitchen where the silver haired woman left, “she just isn’t getting fucked well?”

“Ouch,” he feigns hurt, holding his hand over his heart, “I’ll have you know I’m a great fuck.”

“That’s great,” you laugh awkwardly, “that’s really… good for you.”

Satoru smiles down at you, and you’re not entirely sure when during that conversation your back made contact with the wall behind you, but it did, his face inches from yours, leaning on one of his long arms caging you in.

“God, your laugh is precious,” his voice is low, honeyed. He grabs the cup you’re sipping on between two of his fingers, setting both his and yours on the counter next to you, and you just let him.

Turning your head up to meet his gaze, you feel your cheeks heat again, noses brushing alongside one another. Your lips part every so slightly when his ghost yours; you lean forward, ever so slightly, unconsciously trying to close the almost non-existent gap between the two of you but he moves away ever so slightly with a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

You find yourself gripping the fabric of his cotton shirt at the base of his stomach, feeling his hardened muscles clench at the contact, keeping him close.

His breath is mingling with yours in the tight space, smelling alcohol and cigarettes with each exhale.

“Gojo.” you murmur, almost a whisper, almost pleading.

He chuckles, hand finding its way to your hip as he threads the other through your hair, slotting his lips with yours. 

Gojo’s a graceful kisser, tasting of alcohol and mint from the cigarette. His lips meld with yours, snaking your lower lip between his teeth, tugging playfully, loving the sound of the soft sigh that leaves your lips as he does this.

The feeling of a little metal ball on his tongue takes you back for a second before you realize he has his tongue pierced, the thought sending a jolt right to your core, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss.

You can’t hear the ongoing party, haven’t been able to for a while now. The bass is still reverberating through the walls and the floor, from the tips of your toes through the rest of your body.

He pulls back, eyes half lidded flickering between yours and your lips, voice husky with arousal as he asks, “my room?”

@petalsrdead @sugurunicorn @niki-sun @lilith412426 @sofiaconlaz @lxvephxbic @kash2 @violetsapplejuice @iam-mia9 @laylasbunbunny @creolequeen11210 @xiaosie @lem-hhn @s-witch-bitch

[technicallyverycowboy]

@kinnbig tagged for wipmumbledy day, so, please enjoy this snippet of post-canon boston and nick wherein top gets a hall pass from mew eyyy.

Only then does Boston snag his phone off the bedside table and see that he has a couple emails, a couple messages, and one missed call from Top the Domesticated Whore. 

He can't remember the last time he talked to Top. Their fucked up college morass splintered hard after graduation. Boston went to New York alone for a year, then asked Nick to join him. Ray and Sand went on again, off again for years, interspersed with variably successful stints in rehab. Top and Mew got engaged, then waited until marriage equality passed to have a huge, tacky society wedding. 

Ray and Mew's and Nick and Sand's friendships mostly endured and it was through them that they all sporadically came together. At first, Boston had enjoyed watching the lives of the people who threw being a slut in his face crumble while he and Nick figured their shit out and built something that was good and solid and made them happy. 

Eventually it got old. Boston doesn't hate them anymore because he doesn't really think about them. He can't imagine living a life where he peaked at twenty-two. 

"Top called me," Boston says. 

Nick cracks open an eye, unimpressed. "Mew's gonna ground him for a month if he finds out." 

Boston laughs. Mew and Top are very, very happy in public. The last time Boston can remember seeing them together, they'd kept a solid six inches of space between them and not looked at each other the whole night. It was the second worst birthday party Boston had ever attended. He'd actually felt a little bad for Sand. 

"You think they're getting divorced?" 

"I think Mew would kill him first," Nick says. "Couldn't live with the shame."

"True." Boston drums his fingers against Nick's hip. "I'll call him back tomorrow." 

He tosses his phone back on the nightstand, turns off the light, and settles into bed with Nick. 

[feiandart]

"See, Raphael... It's not like you've really slept in these six thousand years. And you... No, don't interrupt me," Aziraphale raises a hand to prevent him from intervening, "truthfully, you've never told me how it happened, and I wasn't present, so it's hard for me to give you some details, but at some point, you Fell. It happened just before God created the first humans," he narrates, squinting his eyes. "We met on the walls of Eden: me, an angel, and you, a demon. And you see, we couldn't know it then, but that's where we began to be us." With every passing second, Raphael feels himself slipping more and more into a place he wouldn't have even thought could exist: a treasury of memories devoid of images but made up of events, phrases, jokes, sporadic encounters in all the Ages of Earth; a tale made of whispered promises, collaborations, fleeting glances and implications; a friendship grown on the most barren ground but which, despite everything, has put down solid roots and blossomed millennium after millennium, exploding into something more, a feeling they've never seriously given a name. He can't believe it: how is it possible that it was him, and where have all these memories gone if even hearing them recounted, he can't find the pieces? Raphael looks at Aziraphale captivated, lips slightly parted, and he hasn't even realized that he's leaning towards him with his torso gradually as the story thickens, to the point that he had to lean on the desk with his left hand, near the Supreme Archangel's side.

GOOD OMENS - 42 CHAP. - COMPLETED - EXPLICIT

Aziraphale asks Crowley to go back to Heaven with him. Crowley says yes. Well, not really, but he goes anyway. The consequences are catastrophic. When things go upside down, everything has to be put back together. Right?

Translated from Italian / Reverse Omens / Post 2° Season Finale It may contain some translation errors. Please feel free to point them out so that I can correct them! Thank you so much!

Read complete fiction on AO3.

[tonberry-yoda]

HALLOOO AGAIN ITSA MEEE

ᵀʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ᶦᵈᵗ ʸᵘ ᵏⁿᵒ ʷʰᵒ ᵐᵉᵉ ᶦˢ-

to say you is speed is an understatement- i too, get excited when i see you posting croc man content- your writing is just muah 💪💪💪💪

Also- yes i would like a nickname :D, dats hec COOL-

Behold,

✨Helicopter anon✨

Bc ykno- it goes brrrr and brrr is good for health 😌

ANYWAY- HERES ANOTHERRRR

I hope im not spamming requests- you can take your time of course 😤

These are just ideas for you :)

Ok business time 👹

👏Crocman dad👏trying👏to👏protect👏his👏child's👏innocence 👏

Like crocodile has bad habits right-: smoking (a l o t o f s m o k i n g), mafia business, cussing, angery and stuff like that.

To start- He wont smoke around his child, if his child appears out of nowhere he would most prob like yeet his cigar somewhere HAHAHAHAH

Doesnt talk about his underworld business when his child is present, imagine his agents or his clients coming in straight up with details of his work like "sir i got rid of tha-" *croc staring daggers at dem with his kid playing in his office*

Also, since he spends alot of time with his wife and child, when there is a needed time to k e e l somebody he just hands his child that he's holding, to his wife c a l m l y and the wife who knows whats abouta go down and just goes "whoops lets go buy ice cream shall we" *walks away* bc queen knows 😌

He just avoids everything possibly bad

I hope this gave you some ideas-

Again, you can take 1% of these or add and its still foine

Thank youuuu

HAVE A GDAY GDAYYYYY✨😤

OH MY GOODNESS, i was waiting for you to put in another request lol. i love your requests so much they give me so much writing inspiration! seriously though, your requests are amazing. And helicopter anon is literally perfect, when i tell you me and my sister were cracking up when you chose that name. I love it. and i love these croc as a father writings, they are so good! now onward! i did what i could, so please enjoy and have a great day helicopter anon!! <333

Croc as a father part 4!

Warnings - none!

Word Count - 550

Notes - again, thank you for the request helicopter anon! i love these and now my requests are finally open so you can request another if you're down!! have a great day and i really hope you enjoy!!! stay hydrated!!! <33333 (image not mine)

and now requests are OPEN!!! please check my pinned post before requesting!!

“Dear,” you played with the collar of Crocodile’s button up trying to ignore the cigar smoke flying around your face. “I've been meaning to talk to you about…” you flicked his cigar and he giggled, kissing your neck. “This.”

“Huh?” Crocodile moved from his neck looking down at his cigar. “This? What about this?”

“Uhm… It's just… our son. I don't want-”

“Oh, I haven't been doing it around him.”

You tilted your head, trying to think back to the times of all of you hanging out together. “You haven't?”

“Nope. You think I want my six year old to know what I do for a living?”

You giggled and played with the bottom of Croc’s hair. “I don't know why I ever doubted you.”

If Crocodile was being fully honest with you though, it was the most impossible thing he had to do. Hiding your mafia identity from a sporadic child was hands down the hardest thing in the world.

For example, one time, he was just in his office working when his six year old burst in the room making airplane noises as he ran back and forth with a toy plane. Crocodile has never thrown something so long and far, but his cigar ended up on the other side of the room while his child turned to him with a goofy smile asking what that was.

Or when Crocodile was teaching his son how to use a map and one of his employees walked in.

“Sir, we took care of the body you wanted us to hi-”

Crocodile had never stared at someone with such force. He pointed to his child who was coloring the map with sharks and fish and pointed to the door, forcing his employee out.

All Crocodile’s son knew Crocodile to be a big teddy bear. Someone who would help him whenever he had a nightmare. Someone who loved his momma with all of his heart and soul. Someone he looked up to.

Crocodile knew that eventually he would have to tell his son about his business, hopefully have him take it over when the time came. But for now he was learning. Trying to figure out the world. The last thing he needed to know was Crocodile’s grudge against Monkey D. Luffy and the fact that he had been to jail and that he had committed multiple crimes. That was for another day.

Whenever he was curious though, it was always your job to step up.

“Honey,” Crocodile handed you your son, his employees standing behind him. “I have to go take care of something. Take him out to go get some frozen yogurt and get yourself something nice, love.”

He placed a kiss on your head and your sons, walking out of the room with that evil, but sexy look on his face that made you swoon.

“Momma?” You set your son down and grabbed his hand. “Where’s daddy going?”

You just smiled and rubbed the top of his jet black hair. “He's going to work dear.”

“What does daddy do for work?”

You grabbed the keys off of the wall and smirked. “Daddy takes care of business, buddy.”

You kissed him on the forehead and took him out for frozen yogurt while Crocodile did just that.

Take care of business.

[oldimgurpics]

The Future of oldimgurpics

Hello everyone. Activity has been kind of sporadic again—sorry about that, prior engagements and all. Posts will resume again in the near future, but there's something we need to talk about.

Over the last six months, this account has received a massive amount of new followers—well over triple what it had one year ago today. That's insane to me, especially when I consider the fact I've been running this blog for just north of six years now. I am grateful that you all share my niche interest in these nuggets of internet history I keep picking from the sieve, and would like to keep doing this for a good while longer; even if my inconsistent posting runs counter to that.

However, I may not be able to for much longer.

What's going on?

This was posted yesterday on imgur's blog. At first glance, this seems kind of dire, and while it is pretty bad, it's not as bad is may seem. Imgur has done this kind of thing before, and this has been evident to me for quite some time. When I generate new images, there are far more failed fetch requests than successful ones—often two failed requests for every one success—and when I started, this certainly was not the case. Not only that, but I'm sure some of you have spotted broken imgur links across the web before, especially on forums, especially on help forums. You know, the worst place for an image to be broken? Isn't that lovely? It's tinypic for a new generation.

The issue is not the fact that it's getting rid of pornography, nudity, and sexually explicit content—that would actually be a good thing if not solely for the amount of people's stray nudes that are floating around in the void that would no longer be waiting for someone to accidentally find. The problem is that there is no way to root through what is considered inappropriate content without collaterally annihilating huge swathes of unrelated, inoffensive content along with it unless you basically do what I've been doing, and I doubt imgur—or any company for that matter—would be willing to supply the manpower to do something like that.

Unfortunately, pretty much no matter what happens, we are probably going to lose a vast amount of internet history from this, and while the bulk of that is so far buried under imgur's content servers that most will never even see those images, I still think it's a bad move. Even beyond the fact that it may spell the end of this blog, I think it's garbage that companies can just piss away millions upon billions of images.

Regardless of how mundane and unimportant most of what's on those servers are, (barring the illegal and morally reprehensible stuff) I believe it all still deserves to exist. These images come together into a disgusting, muddy, misguided, tapestry made out of words, photographs, memories that were once woven together with times, places, and people. And while most of those threads have been long severed from each other, I still believe burning the whole thing is wrong. So much of it is a product of an online environment we will never see again.

What can you do about this?

Pretty much absolutely nothing. As much as I want to be like "flood their support! ask them to reverse their decision! find which dipshit exec made this decision and [REDACTED]!" I know for a fact that absolutely nobody at support has any power to do anything about this, and hardly any action can be taken to change the course they've already charted. That sounds incredibly pessimistic, but I'm not without reasons for being so.

Sure, we could raise concerns, and get it sent up the chain of command, but this is more than likely the same bullshit song and dance we see across every website: the parent company doesn't like all those icky images (the ones with the boobs and dicks, mind you. not the ones with bigotry, or gore, or other illicit subjects—to a corporation, these things have a possibility to generate revenue, so they're all fine), and wants them gone to appease the advertising overlords who want to scrub every blemish, imperfection, and deviation from every corner of online to make the internet as sterile and banal as inhumanly possible. Perhaps all of that is pure, bitter conjecture; but be honest: would you be surprised?

Many people (rightfully) make a big deal about sites like photobucket, tinypic, and imageshack all being huge image hosts of the late aughts who basically dumped all their servers without much notice at all, and how that broke so much of the old internet. And while that was devastating, I assure you that if imgur manages to mangle this (and I'm sure they will, like any big web company tends to) this will be much worse than all three of those sites shitting the bed combined.

Imgur has been the biggest image host for over a decade now, and considering the increase in net activity that correlates to their popularity growth, there's an enormous amount of content that's going to break/becoming missing as a result of this. There are countless reddit posts that depend on imgur hosting. There are countless forum posts that will be illegible as a result of this. Hopefully this will be nowhere near the catastrophic degree I'm prognosticating, but I've been online for two decades, seen this kind of thing happen time and time again, and it's always worse than it was the last time.

You are free to do what you will about it. I won't push one way or the other. It just sucks, folks! But that brings me to:

What am I going to do about this?

Well, since the future of the blog is so uncertain, I'm going to start planning around the possibility that I may not be able to generate images for much longer, so there will be a few changes.

I already try to save all the images on this blog to my hard drive locally. Every time you save an image on imgur, the default image name is the URL it comes from, so I'll still have tentative proof that what I post is an imgur pic even if the URL 404s. I'm going to start saving a lot more now, though.

Queued posting will slow down from 4 times a day to just one. I know that's quite a bit lower than my previous output (if you don't look at averages lol), but this will ensure the blog keeps going for a while, even if the worst comes to pass and I'm unable to generate anything else for this blog.

Hope I'm making a bigger deal over this than I need to be. There's a chance I've typed all this out, and in six months time it will have absolutely no effect on how this blog functions. A year from now, many posts may not actually break the way I expect them to. I would love it if all my concerns were over nothing—sometimes, being wrong kind of owns, and this would definitely be one of those cases, but I won't take chances. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.

Either way, thank you for reading, and please don't be afraid to shoot an ask my way.

[questioningwriter]

(I'm not dead, I promise! But I did recently start my job, which has sporadic hours, so I haven't had time to write. But I finally got this finished and I wanted to post it, because I promised it weeks ago. Hopefully the next one will come sooner.)

Edit: I'm an idiot, who forgot to link everything. Fixed it.

Morally Grey Pt 3

Part 1 Part 2

TW: Imprisonment, obsessive behavior, Mentioned no-con drugging

The press was having a field day with this, Superhero mused as he stood at the podium, the other hero's standing behind him. It wasn't necessary, but none of them knew that.

“-I can assure you, we will find Villain, and put him back where he belongs.” Superhero finished addressing the media, but before any of the hero's could leave, there was a shout at the back of the crowd.

"You liar!" Everyone turned to the shout, and there were screams as Other Villain burst from the crowd, gun in hand. "I know you did something! What did you do with Villain?"

"I can assure you that I have no idea what you are talking about." Superhero said smoothly. "I had nothing to do with Villain's disappearance."

"Bullshit!" Other Villain yelled. "You were the last person to see him. You were the one who he was going to meet, I know it! Where is he?"

Superhero stepped back and his team came to flank him. "For the last time, I had nothing to do with Villain's disappearance!"

"Then how did you know?" Other Villain snarled. "How did you know that Villain was missing?"

"...Because the prison called us about their disappearance?" Superhero said. "And it's all over the news? The whole reason we have to have his press conference in the first place?"

Other Villain floundered, which gave the officers time to sneak up behind them. But before they could be caught, Other Villain blasted them back with his power, then turned to Superhero. "I'll prove you were the one who did something to Villain!" He pointed his weapon at Superhero. "I swear it!"

With a dramatic swirl of his cape, he was gone. Superhero turned to his team. "Get everyone to safety." He ordered. "I'll start putting out the feelers to find both Villain and Other Villain. It's more important now than ever to figure out where they went."

The team did as he asked. Superhero watched them proudly for a moment before turning and leaving. Such obedient puppets.

He quickly changed out of his hero costume in the back room, then left. On the way home, he made several calls and made sure his spies in Villain's organization were ready to fake his Villain's death. He contemplated taking out Other Villain at the same time. Make it look like the two were working together, and something went wrong.

Arriving at his house cut off his thought process. Pulling into the garage, he got out and went inside his house. Looking around, he walked to the basement door. Unlocking all six of the locks on the door, Superhero went downstairs.

When Superhero had purchased the house, he found that the former owner had converted the basement into an apartment, complete with it's own bathroom, so that someone could rent the room, and the previous owner could have a second income coming in from the tenant. Over the years, Superhero had had no need for it, so it had been left to gather dust.

Until today.

His guest stood from his place on the bed as Superhero entered.

"Where the fuck am I?" Villain snarled. "What did you do?"

~

"Villain, sweetheart." Superhero said happily, as if they were discussing the weather. "I'm glad to see you're awake. How are are you feeling? Did the drug give you a headache?"

Villain glared at his lover. "Don't pull that bullshit with me." He snapped. "Where the hell am I? What the fuck did you do?"

Superhero's smile waned. "Villain, why don't we sit down to discuss this?" He said.

"No." Villain backed away from Superhero's reaching hands. "Don't touch me. And, while you're at it, let me go."

Superhero sighed. "Sweetheart." He soothed. "Please just listen to me. Aren't you even a little bit curious as to why I did this?"

Villain hesitated. Truth be told, he was a little curious as to what drove the crime-fighter to this point. They broke their own moral code by kidnapping Villain. He was curious as to lovers enemies motives.

"Alright, I'll bite." Villain sat back down. "Why am I here?"

"It's simple." Superhero sat down next to his ex-partner. “Because of our last conversation as lovers.” He answered. “You told me it was either you or them-”

“-and if you picked them, I would never see you again, at least not in the sense of lovers.” Villain cut him off. “What does that have to do with you kidnapping me?” 

“Well. I made my choice.” Superhero took Villain's jaw in a bruising grip. “I choose option three.” 

"Did you know that the same day you escaped prison, a hospital exploded?" Superhero asked. "Unfortunately, a lot of people died that day. It was a tragic accident, but I saw a way to spin it to my favor."

"I planted signs that you were behind it. Little things, like your symbol painted on a still-standing part of the building. camera footage placing you there, a few hours before the explosion happens. All things that sign your metaphorical death warrant.

Throughout Superhero's speech, Villain's face had gotten paler and paler until it was almost completely white. "You're a monster." He breathed.

"The other heroes think you blew up the hospital." Superhero continued like Villain hadn't spoken. "You are not safe anywhere beyond this house. I have made sure of that." 

Villain's face was drained of color. "You're crazy." He whispered. 

 "Crazy in love with you." Superhero joked, but quickly grew serious. “Villain, I am only trying to give us both what we want - each other. I love you, more than anything, and I want to be with you.” He reached out and took his boyfriend's hand. “You gave me an impossible choice the last time we were together. Either I choose you, or I choose my team.” 

“I remember.” Angel said tersely.

“I knew I could not abandon my team.” Superhero continued like he had not spoken. “They needed me, and so did the public.” He reached up to cup Villain's cheek. “But I need you.” Superhero pulled his hands back. “And the world doesn’t need you like I do.” 

Villain’s eyes widened. Jumping from the bed, be backed away. “No, I will not be caged.” He snarled. “I won’t let you keep me here.” 

“I don’t expect you to.” Superhero told him. “What I expect is for you to fight. I expect escape attempts. I’m even expecting you to try to kill me.” I leaned forward. “None of which you can do without your power.” 

His eyes narrowed. “You can’t steal my power. It’s impossible.” 

“No.” Superhero admitted, “but I can block it.” 

Villain didn't have the chance to run before Superhero was lunging to grab him. Getting ahold of the criminal, Superhero injected him with a sedative, and Villain blacked out.

`

Villain woke up to weakness. Weakness so strong it was hard to move. And an emptiness where his powers usually were. It was an effort to lift his head to meet his captors eyes. 

"Villain.” Superhero spoke calmly, like he was talking to a wild animal. “Villain, sweetheart, can you hear me?” 

“Fuck you.” Villain slurred. Superhero’s gaze hardened. Villain thought that the hero was going to hit him, but he just turned away.

"The weakness will wear off soon." He said. "Unfortunately, I could not prevent it from happening completely, but I was able to decrease its effects." He messed with something out of Villain's vision. "This apartment is fully furnished, and has everything you will need to survive." He smiled at me. "You'll be safe here."

"If by safe, you mean trapped here as your prisoner, then yeah, I'm totally safe." Villain snapped, fighting to stand. "Guess what, Supes, I'm not going to stay here complacently, I'm going to fight this with everything I have in me. And when I strike, it will leave you crumpled in the dust." 

Superhero laughed. "Good luck." He left, leaving him in his prison.

[altschmerzes]

if anyone has cats they would like to send me pics of i would appreciate that a lot i am having a very very fucking weird one right now and don’t really know what to do with myself.

the short version is: my dad died today. the long version is..... probably an absolutely ridiculous overshare but. like i said. don’t know what to do with myself so i’m just. idk im talking out loud i guess, putting this Somewhere. it’s. heavy, sorry.

so the post i made recently celebrating seven years going no-contact with my abusive father who kind of ruined my life in a lot of really serious ways i am likely never really going to completely recover from? yeah. he had a stroke earlier this year that sounded like it was pretty serious and that was a lot to process and then i just got the call from my mom that he had a heart attack while fishing with a friend this afternoon and died. apparently it was fast, which is good. he was fifty-five and i guess he’d just hit two years sober.

my mom sounded really upset on the phone, and i guess she’d only found out less than ten minutes before she called me, she just told my sister, who lives with her, and my sister went off to take a shower (read: have a breakdown in the shower), and then called me immediately and said “your dad died” as soon as i answered with a hey, what’s up. they’d been divorced for twenty years and he was a fucking bastard but i guess your ex-husband and your kids’ dad who you’ve recently been reconnecting with and spending time with again dies and you’re probably gonna have some strong feelings about it. my sister is in pieces, they’d reconnected and were spending a lot more time together. in their text they said ‘i barely got any time with him and i’m fucking heartbroken’.

and because he has no other living relatives my 23 year old sister who is uh, in a fragile state on the best of days, is gonna have to deal with all of the paperwork and shit that happens when someone dies. and my sister and i’s relationship is like.... it’s complicated, to put it politely, they are very hard for me to be around for a lot of reasons, but i wouldn’t wish that on them and i wish i was able to take on that stuff if only because i’m almost through law school and i’m the least emotionally invested in the man and it just would be easier for everyone if i did the paperwork and whatever.

and then there’s my brother, because i have a brother, who i barely talk about because it hurts to think about him. he’s nine years older than me and he’s my half-brother by my dad and after my dad went to prison on drug charges i didn’t see him for thirteen years. and then a long time after a brief visit too. he’s got two kids now, and for a while there we were in sporadic contact, but i haven’t seen or heard from him since i was maybe nineteen. and my mom was just kind of rambling on the phone about how she had to find my brother’s mother’s contact information because someone had to tell him and because i’m all the way out here and i can’t DO anything else i told her i’d find her and tell her what happened and get everyone’s contact information for whatever’s coming next so. now i’ve texted my brother, who is a living wound in my life, for the first time in like six years. he hasn’t answered yet and according to his mother he’s ‘devastated.’ so.

i’m not. i’m not devastated. i don’t know what i feel honestly. once i tracked her down on facebook and dealt with all of that i just sort of sat at the kitchen table and stared at the wall for a long time. listened to the mountain goats song ‘pale green things’ and drifted in a weird numb void. i’m not.... sad. not about him anyway. i don’t know what i am. i have a very difficult time articulating my feelings on a good day, fuck i mean i have a hard time identifying my feelings on a good day. some combination of autism and cptsd and the sense that if i have feelings someone is going to die, maybe me, maybe someone else. if i have feelings, i get someone killed, is the thought process, which is a long story but. is extremely hard to work around, especially when i don’t see the point because taking active steps to make my feelings known and make them something someone else has to deal with is like. what’s the point. why do that.

so i don’t know what i feel. i feel strange and distant and not-sad and kind of angry at my sister and brother for some fucking reason and guilty and resentful and relieved. there’s some relief in there i think, because it’s like. i don’t know. i had the thought earlier, ‘oh thank gd’ which is. it sounds heinous but i now i’ll never have to choose between attending my sister’s wedding and not having to see him there, if i go back to my hometown and feel like there’s a monster stalking me from the shadows i can just tell myself the fucking monster’s fucking dead and he can’t ever hurt me again. nobody in my family is ever going to be able to pressure me to just talk to him already, just move on and let it go. reconcile, forgive, get past it.

(i don’t know how much any of them know. i have never discussed this with my parents or my sister and i never plan to. we’ve talked about some things in vague euphemisms and talked around it even more. when he got out of prison and then when he was done stalking us which he did for a while and got some help i guess and was doing a bit better my sister wanted to reconnect with him and i didn’t. i had panic attacks, i was terrified, i didn’t want anything to do with him and i didn’t want my sister anywhere near him and i remember all my mom had to say to me about that was ‘if it makes you feel any better, i could take him.’ i don’t know what to... i just don’t know.)

i dunno. i don’t know. when i visited my hometown and stayed at my parents’ house (my grandmother’s house, when i say ‘parents’ i mean her and my mom generally) i slept with a knife on my bedside table and a plan of how to get out the window because i’d heard that he’d started dropping by sometimes and i was too scared to sleep otherwise. he terrorized me. i have very few memories from before he went to prison and most of them are of being terrified for my life. of being chased through the house, staying above the garage because for some reason we couldn’t be in the house that night. sexual abuse that i can still barely handle thinking about. he haunts my nightmares regularly, even though i haven’t seen or spoken to him in seven years, didn’t see or talk to him very often before that. i have panic attacks in my sleep dreaming about him, enough that i have to be medicated for it.

he’s a person who was deeply troubled and sick and suffered unimaginably in his life and it’s just.... i know all of that and i just. i don’t know. i hope he’s at peace i guess. i know he never was when he was alive. i know i’m not at peace most of the time, largely because of the shit he did to me. i don’t know. i don’t know. my dad’s dead.

[xalygatorx]

Worthy (2015) | Chapter 16, "A Universe Away"

Disappearing sporadically in public spaces quickly becomes Cora Dempsey's least concerning problem when suddenly she captures the attention of the forming Avengers Initiative, the World Security Council, and Asgard's fallen prince all in one week. And the universe is only just getting started with her.

Worthy is a slow-burn SFW Marvelverse (films) romance between Loki and a female OC. For additional details on what canon is used, see the Prologue post.

Summary: Loki receives his sentence. Frigga sees recognition between Loki and Cora when they see each other again and has some new questions for their guest. Cora snags Thor for a conversation during the banquet about the state of Midgard and Loki’s involvement in the attack.

Pairing: Loki x Fem!OC

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3.2k

"Loki."

Frigga's voice was quiet, but it resonated through the towering throne room like a solid echo, a ghost before it ever lived. Cora crouched and peeked through the gap between the doors just as a familiar voice reached her ears. Loki smiled, but it was cold and sarcastic. "Hello, Mother. Have I made you proud?"

He was different. He was so completely different in every way she could see in that moment. He had filled out in musculature, his form built up from the youthful lankiness she remembered. His hair was longer, just past his shoulders now, and his entire demeanor had flipped like a switch.

Loki was no longer just sly or just composed, his movements were taut and controlled like a predator's. More than ever, she could see the anger, the bitterness, and a new ruthlessness in him which all seemed to have grown in their separation. It had been only months, tops, but he was so severely changed.

Frigga saw this, too; Cora could tell despite the fact that she was faced away from her, toward Loki. How could she not? Cora knew she, herself, hadn't seen Loki in a little over six months based on the date, but she had no idea how long Loki had been away from Asgard by the time she'd met him, how much he'd changed even by then. "Please don't make this worse."

Loki gave a mockingly thoughtful glance before murmuring, "Define worse."

"Enough. I will speak to the prisoner alone," Odin's voice rang out from the throne, which was out of Cora's line of sight. She bit her lip as Frigga hesitated and then made her way back to the door, backing up when she reached the door. Frigga looked at her, seeming startled to remember that Cora had lingered. She smiled weakly before taking Cora's hand and closing the door to a crack again, both standing together to listen.

Chains clinked as Loki stepped closer to the throne, the manacles around his ankles slamming together as he stood at attention, all in taunt, before his adoptive father's throne. An amused laugh danced against the walls before he noted in all seriousness, "I really don't see what all the fuss is about."

Cora wanted to ask Frigga what was really going on, but she didn't want to miss a word of what was said beyond those doors and she could feel the Queen's grip on her hand tightening ever so slightly as she listened to who her son had become. She couldn't get over how different he was; Cora had met him when he was becoming less like the boy he'd been, but the man she saw now was quite unlike the young man she'd known. She couldn't imagine how different he was from the boy Frigga had known and raised.

Cora gave Frigga's hand a gentle squeeze as Odin asked calmly, "Do you truly not feel the gravity of your crimes? Wherever you go, there is war, ruin, and death."

"I went down to Midgard to rule the people of Earth as a benevolent god. Just as you do," Loki argued softly, sounding confident in his means.

"We are not gods. We're born, we live, we die. Just as humans do," Odin argued unwaveringly.

Loki snickered and remarked, "Give or take five-thousand years…" Cora's eyes widened at that and Frigga nodded beside her as an answer to her silent question of whether or not that was accurate. She'd known their kind—and apparently her kind as well—lived for quite some time, but for "give or take" fifty times the length of a long human life? She couldn't imagine; from what she'd experienced so far, twenty-five years felt like a long time to toil in the world.

"All this… Because Loki desires a throne," Odin mused, seeming to take a new angle with his tone that rammed straight home in the fallen prince's ego.

"It is my birthright!" he shouted defensively.

"Your birthright," Odin enunciated angrily, "was to die as a child. Cast out onto a frozen rock. If I had not taken you in, you would not be here now to hate me."

The pause that followed was short, but it made Cora's insides feel like they were beginning to cave in. He'd told her he was adopted; he'd never said he'd been abandoned. And despite Odin's obvious dislike with what his son had become, the words were biting and unfair in her ears. When Loki finally spoke, he sounded tired and almost impatient. "If I am for the ax, then for mercy's sake just swing it. It's not that I don't love our little talks, it's just…" He paused again. "I don't love them."

Cora and Frigga shared a glance as Odin clearly explained, "Frigga is the only reason you're still alive and you are not to see her again. You'll spend the rest of your days in the dungeon."

The chains clanked faintly before Loki's voice persistently rose above them. "And what of Thor? You'll make that witless oaf king while I rot in chains?"

"Thor must strive to undo the damage you have done, will bring order to the nine realms, and then, yes. He will be king," Odin said coolly as the clinking of the links became louder and louder as the guards drew Loki from the throne room.

Frigga gently guided Cora back from the door as the party of eight heavily armored guards pushed it open, pausing to bow before their queen. Loki stood amidst them and turned his gaze upon his mother with a faint sneer upon his lips. "I gather then that this is goodbye, Mother. I must thank you so much for—"

He stopped after his eyes had briefly slipped down to the woman at his mother's side, nearly looking away before his addled mind processed just who it was, which was the instant his words caught in his throat.

Loki's eyes met Cora's and, as it always had, the intensity of his gaze sent a jolt through her, though after all this and what had come before, it was lackluster. His lips parted on a question, but he stopped himself, and in the few seconds just before the guards forced him away on the King's orders, his features relaxed with the closest thing to vulnerability anyone had seen in ages.

Before they cleared the hall, Loki glanced back one more time at the two of them, at the sad and slightly confused look upon his mother's face and the thin frown of mixed emotions upon Cora's. She was alive. And what would she think when she understood why?

Cora watched them turn the corner and disappear, then looking to Frigga, who was already looking at her with a slightly lifted brow. Cora tried to think of something to say, but drew a blank and Frigga beat her to breaking the silence. "I have a feeling," she said gently, "that we have not been entirely open with one another."

"Frigga, I'm—"

The Queen lifted her hand and smiled, touching Cora's cheek lightly. "I know, I am certain your reasons are good. Come, let us go have something to eat and then we will go to the courtyard to continue with your swordsmanship. And have a talk, yes?"

Cora smiled back and nodded, sighing when she saw the moisture in Frigga's eyes, tears she was holding at bay. Paying no mind to the fact that she was the queen of an extraterrestrial realm, Cora pulled her into a hug, knowing no matter who she was, she was probably in sore need of one.

Frigga was surprised by the gesture, but her smile soon returned and she enfolded the younger woman in her arms. "Thank you, dear one."

Cora yelped as she landed on her backside for the third time in an hour. Frigga wasn't going easy on her anymore and it showed every time she lost her balance or got her feet knocked out from under her. She was starting to get sore this time, not from overexertion, but from an overabundance of failure.

Frigga held out her hand and helped Cora up. "You will learn faster this way," she explained apologetically before suggesting, "Why don't we take a break, hm?"

"A break sounds good," Cora panted, setting her training sword down and moving over to sit in one of the ledges of the golden arch-hollowed wall behind them. Frigga joined her and a nearby servant stepped forward to offer them a tray of drinks. Cora took one as Frigga did the same, taking an experimental taste; it was some kind of juice with a pungent flavor that resembled mixed berry V8.

"I meant to ask," Cora began after swallowing the refreshingly cold sip she'd taken, "about the hallway exercise you had me do. How did you know that would work?"

"I didn't," Frigga smiled, holding her golden cup and idly smoothing her thumb against the side. "But it was something I had done with Loki a long time ago, when he was just a boy learning to use his own gifts. The ones I bestowed upon him after we took him in. Which brings me to my own questions… You know my son. How?"

Cora's gaze dipped to peer into her drink as she began to explain, "The ones who were forced to freeze me were tracking me down. The day Thor helped them with the hammer? Loki was there. He saw me pick up Mjolnir." She said the last bit in a hushed tone so no one else would hear. It had been made clear that it would be better if no one else knew. "He thought that I could help him with all this," she said, giving a general wave that indicated Asgard and his endeavors to secure the throne, "so he took me with him and we were hiding out in a warehouse for a few days. Maybe a week."

Frigga nodded a couple of times and asked, "How much did he tell you?"

"That he was the rightful king. Adopted. He said he'd been lied to and deceived about who he was." Frigga sighed and glanced down with another nod and Cora frowned. "I'm not trying to hurt you by telling you this. I'm just trying to be as open as I can be."

"I understand. I also understand why you did not tell me sooner."

Cora nodded and asked quietly, "What happened on Earth? Why won't anyone tell me? I mean, based on what Odin said back there, I know people died, but what part did Loki have in it?"

Frigga's features contorted faintly in remorse, her lips pursing into a thin line as she replied, "First of all, I am sorry for keeping you in the dark, but the truth is no one knows precisely what happened. I told Sif not to tell you what she knew, though she knows only so much as I do—do not blame her for her silence."

She sighed and stood, setting her half-empty cup back on the servant's tray when he returned. "If you wish to know the full story, speak to my eldest when he returns." A gentle smile graced her lips although her eyes remained sad. "You did wonderfully today, by the way. Even if it does not feel as if you did."

Cora smiled bashfully and finished her drink. "Thank you. For everything, again."

"Of course," she said warmly before telling her she would see her later in the day and making her exit to go speak with her husband. Cora watched her go before setting her cup on the tray as well, the servant departing and leaving her to her own thoughts in the breezy, flowering courtyard.

Cora had been to essentially one house party in her life. It had been when she was a junior in high school and she'd only gone because her best friend at the time had wanted to drink and hit on some guy from her History class. She'd been shocked at the partiers' methods at the time with destroying property, getting wasted, and drooling all over each other in any available room with a closable door.

She hadn't considered herself much of a partier until that evening, when she accidentally attended the second large party of her lifetime, which was in the form of an Asgardian banquet. The drinking and destruction were still in abundance, but there was something warm and communal about it, something safe. Thor, Sif, and the rest of their troop had returned from the other realms, where they had been gradually bringing things back into order, as Odin had said they would.

Cora had been sitting silently, sipping a goblet of wine, and just absorbing the festive atmosphere around her; everything was right within Asgard to its born inhabitants, the ones outside the royal family at least. Their black sheep of a prince was caged, their crown prince was winning the favor of the universe with every visit to another of the Nine, and they had plenty of booze and savory edibles to go around. What could possibly be wrong in the world?

She wished she could feel so easy about all this. That she could feel easy at all anymore. Cora had started her angst at a young age after losing her parents and it had gradually solidified over the years into instinctive stoicism, like plaque in an artery. One day it would be blocked off entirely and she'd feel nothing at all.

Cora sighed and was considering leaving the room when the one she'd been waiting for a chance to speak with walked by, cloaked in a relaxed brown garment. She could tell it was Thor by the way everyone bowed, clapped hands to his shoulders, praised him like the god he was. Getting to her feet, she followed him out of the hall, pausing when he stopped a moment to talk to Sif and continuing her pursuit when they parted.

"Thor!" she called over the roar of voices and the hulking prince turned, glancing right over her head before thinking to look down and finding her weaving her way toward him. "Er, Prince Thor, I guess?"

He smirked faintly, his mind seeming somewhere else. "Thor will more than suffice," he said before taking a good look at her face, which was dappled by shadows from the flickering torches. "I know you. You are the one who swiped my hammer."

At first she was concerned, but a teasing grin curved his lips and crinkled the corners of his eyes, causing her to breathe a sigh of relief. "Yeah, that's me. Sorry about that, by the way. Hope you didn't need it in that time."

"I learned to get along without it some time ago though it remains rather disagreeable," Thor admitted lightly before growing more serious. "What need you of me?"

Cora hesitated and then blurted out, "I need to know what happened on Earth."

Thor frowned and the expression deepened by the second. "You were—"

"I was incapacitated months before it happened, probably. When did it happen, actually?"

"You are not an ally of Loki's, then," Thor asked without quite asking at all, waiting for a confirmation.

Cora thought about that before shaking her head slowly. "I don't think so. But I would consider myself his friend, at least."

Thor nodded briefly, seeming to find something slightly ironic in that before nodding for her to come with him. "Come, we will speak where it is quieter."

Cora followed him down the hall to a terrace, where he leaned against the raised ledge and looked out across his kingdom, his eyes moving briefly toward the horizon with an edge of longing in them. "It happened just a few days ago," he began with a tight frown. "In New York. Loki brought an army of Chitauri—reptilian underlings of a being called ‘the Other’—to your world under the command of greater beings we have not identified just yet. I simply know he was not working alone."

"An army?" Cora repeated quietly, waiting for him to continue when he seemed reluctant to. She took a deep breath and asked, "How many? I mean how many people… Humans…"

Thor sighed and murmured, "Hundreds." Cora winced visibly and Thor straightened, turning toward her. "I am sorry I could not protect your world from my brother, I did not do all that I could have."

"No," Cora murmured in a tight voice, shaking her head. "No, I'm sure you did everything you could. And thank you for that. I just can't believe he…"

"I wish I could disbelieve it, but he has changed immensely from the brother I loved," Thor said bitterly, watching her. "The Loki I knew… Perhaps part of the one I suspect you knew as well…is gone, Cora."

Cora looked up at him. "How do you know my name?"

He smiled. "My mother has told me about you. She thinks quite highly of you. Cares about you a great deal."

She smiled, too, laughing softly. "She's a wonderful woman. I owe her so much."

"She does everything she does because she wishes to," Thor reassured her. He grew more serious after that and said, "It is good to know you at last," but a faint smirk tilted his mouth as he added, "However, grant me a boon and give me notice next time you wish to borrow my weapon."

Cora returned the smirk and rolled her eyes. "Thought you knew how to get along without it."

"That does not mean I prefer it," he chuckled before stepping past her to go back inside the palace. "Goodnight and enjoy the banquet. We should speak again soon. I have a few questions for you as well."

"I've got time."

"Sadly, as heir, I'm expected to 'enjoy' the banquet, myself, though I would rather keep from the noise and mess this eve. I once delighted in it, but it has since grown old."

Cora nodded before glancing toward the horizon and commenting, "You'll have to tell me about your special person some time." This caught Thor off-guard and he turned to look at Cora, who stood with her back to him. "No one looks at the sky like that and only sees the stars."

Thor smiled faintly and nodded, glancing once more at the white-dappled sky before leaving the terrace. Cora walked back in as well shortly after, heading toward the entrance to the banquet hall when she stopped short, her eyes moving toward the adjoining hall as a thought occurred to her. Midnight blue eyes flickered once back toward the party before she silently left it, moving down the vacant corridor to where the throne room doors held precedence at its end.

Cora began to leave the enclosed hall, but ducked out of sight at the edge of the archway just as a couple of liquored-up guards strolled through, heading to the festivities after a successful shift. She waited until she could no longer hear their conversation before she stepped from the shadows and left the corridor, taking one more glance behind her before she began to slowly make her way down a nearby staircase to the palace dungeon.

Next chapter: Chapter 17, "Love & Other Follies"