#Marine Corps Base

[carbone14]

Un F4U-4 Corsair du Marine Fighter Attack Squadron VMFA-212 est sur la catapulte, prêt pour un lancement depuis le porte-avions d'escorte USS Badoeng Strait (CVE-116) pour une frappe en Corée – Guerre de Corée – 1952

Photographe : Gerald Haddock

©US Navy National Museum of Naval Aviation - 1996.253.7154.010

[us-air-force-2]

[deadpresidents]

What is the closest military base to the white house?

The White House IS a military installation.

It is the home and workplace of the Commander-in-Chief of United States military forces, so that alone makes it an important command and control headquarters. The various branches of the military have an active role in the everyday logistics of running the White House campus and supporting the Executive Office of the President. The White House's complex and extensive communications agency is staffed by members of each individual branch of the military. The U.S. Navy is responsible for the White House Mess and providing food services to the President, the First Family, any potential guests, and the President's staff. The White House Medical Unit is staffed by military doctors who have a round-the-clock presence in the White House and the official Physician to the President is usually an active-duty military officer.

While the Secret Service -- which includes the traditional plainclothes agents and the more visible uniformed division -- is responsible for protecting the President, his family, and the White House itself, the military also has a protective footprint in and around the White House complex. It's believed that amongst the White House's protective measures -- most of which are highly classified -- are anti-aircraft defenses, which are almost certainly manned by the military rather than the Secret Service. Marine Corps guards also are stationed at the White House (often seen opening and closing doors while manning the entry and exit points around the West Wing) as sentries and sometimes act as military valets during events hosted by the President in the White House. The role of the Marine sentries is purely ceremonial as opposed to protective.

And one of the most important White House responsibilities of the military is transportation. The White House Transportation Agency is responsible for all aspects of the President's travel, and the military works in tandem with the Secret Service on planning and carrying out the immense logistical challenges of transporting the President anywhere in the world -- a challenge magnified by the sheer size of Presidential traveling parties. A Presidential motorcade consists of, on average, 50-60 vehicles. And the majority of those vehicles actually have to be transported from the United States to wherever the President is traveling -- even if it is to several different foreign countries or continents. The Air Force is, obviously, responsible for the President's plane, along with any other aircraft making the trip which are usually carrying White House staff, members of the press, or cargo. For short distances that can be made by helicopter, the Marine Corps takes the lead. And any ground travel by motor vehicles is handled by the Army.

Security and the President's personal protective detail is always led by the Secret Service, but the military is responsible for many of the day-to-day logistics of the institution of the Presidency, which illustrates why the White House is an important military command and control base.

[war-cartoons]

[550-leadership]

Employ Your Team In Accordance with Its Capabilities

In any organization, the key to achieving excellence lies in how effectively a leader can employ their team according to its capabilities. Just as the Marine Corps teaches, understanding the strengths and weaknesses of your team members allows you to maximize their potential, drive efficiency, and achieve mission success. In this blog post, we’ll explore the importance of aligning tasks with the…

[reasonsforhope]

"For years, California was slated to undertake the world’s largest dam removal project in order to free the Klamath River to flow as it had done for thousands of years.

Now, as the project nears completion, imagery is percolating out of Klamath showing the waterway’s dramatic transformation, and they are breathtaking to behold.

Pictured: Klamath River flows freely, after Copco-2 dam was removed in California.

Incredibly, the project has been nearly completed on schedule and under budget, and recently concluded with the removal of two dams, Iron Gate and Copco 1. Small “cofferdams” which helped divert water for the main dams’ construction, still need to be removed.

The river, along which salmon and trout had migrated and bred for centuries, can flow freely between Lake Ewauna in Klamath Falls, Oregon, to the Pacific Ocean for the first time since the dams were constructed between 1903 and 1962.

“This is a monumental achievement—not just for the Klamath River but for our entire state, nation, and planet,” Governor Gavin Newsom said in a statement. “By taking down these outdated dams, we are giving salmon and other species a chance to thrive once again, while also restoring an essential lifeline for tribal communities who have long depended on the health of the river.”

“We had a really incredible moment to share with tribes as we watched the final cofferdams be broken,” Ren Brownell, Klamath River Renewal Corp. public information officer, told SFGATE. “So we’ve officially returned the river to its historic channel at all the dam sites. But the work continues.”

Pictured: Iron Gate Dam, before and after.

“The dams that have divided the basin are now gone and the river is free,” Frankie Myers, vice chairman of the Yurok Tribe, said in a tribal news release from late August. “Our sacred duty to our children, our ancestors, and for ourselves, is to take care of the river, and today’s events represent a fulfillment of that obligation.”

The Yurok Tribe has lived along the Klamath River forever, and it was they who led the decades-long campaign to dismantle the dams.

At first the water was turbid, brown, murky, and filled with dead algae—discharges from riverside sediment deposits and reservoir drainage. However, Brownell said the water quality will improve over a short time span as the river normalizes.

“I think in September, we may have some Chinook salmon and steelhead moseying upstream and checking things out for the first time in over 60 years,” said Bob Pagliuco, a marine habitat resource specialist at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration in July.

Pictured: JC Boyle Dam, before and after.

“Based on what I’ve seen and what I know these fish can do, I think they will start occupying these habitats immediately. There won’t be any great numbers at first, but within several generations—10 to 15 years—new populations will be established.”

Ironically, a news release from the NOAA states that the simplification of the Klamath River by way of the dams actually made it harder for salmon and steelhead to survive and adapt to climate change.

“When you simplify the habitat as we did with the dams, salmon can’t express the full range of their life-history diversity,” said NOAA Research Fisheries Biologist Tommy Williams.

“The Klamath watershed is very prone to disturbance. The environment throughout the historical range of Pacific salmon and steelhead is very dynamic. We have fires, floods, earthquakes, you name it. These fish not only deal with it well, it’s required for their survival by allowing the expression of the full range of their diversity. It challenges them. Through this, they develop this capacity to deal with environmental changes.”

-via Good News Network, October 9, 2024

[rhk111sblog]

Here are the Pictures and Videos I took of the Scale Models of the upcoming Assets of the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP), the BrahMos Missile System of the Philippine Marine Corps (PMC) and the Fast Attack Interdiction Craft – Missile (FAIC-M) during the Philippine Fleet Defense Expo (PFDX) 2023

[magdaclaire]

my weather app thinks that i'm in the marine corps base across the river for some reason and girlie pop. please

[howlofthewolf]

Kandahar military base, Southern Afghanistan, mid 2003

War on Terror

1st Direwolf Battalion, United States Marine Corps

“The Wolfpack”

“I wonder who they’re bringing in this time.” Sheik said as he checked his rifle. Jakobe Wolf, their captain, said nothing, staring at the plane as it landed on the airstrip. He’d been briefed that a media team was being flown in to cover their exploits in this new operation to root out Taliban fighting. He didn’t like that he had to babysit reporters.

“Just keep a lid on it, let Yuki do the talking.” He said curtly, approaching the plane once it landed. He watched as the team of reporters were let off the plane, and was shocked to see who came off with them.

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (3)

Summary: Terry get's a lesson in love and shares it with Patrice.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 5,049

Part: 3 of ??

Warnings: Smut (18+)

One. Two.

"Well, James, how you been?" 

"Honestly, Pop. I don't know where to start." 

Wooden spoons banged and scraped across pots on the stove while Marvin scooped red beans and rice into a small ceramic bowl. He'd long shed his work coveralls for an open flannel shirt and khakis to spend some quality time with his only son. 

James was their shared middle name in a long line of Richmond men dating back to their family migration from New Orleans to Fayetteville in the 50s. Marvin was a proud, honorable man. He never said a bad word about anybody, and no one had a bad word to say about him. He taught Terry how to play football, make a pot of dirty rice to perfection, and the importance of ensuring a lady never touched a doorhandle in his presence. He was the reason Terry joined the Marine Corps after a career in the NFL looked unlikely. He was the reason his boy spoke softly and carried a big stick. And he was one of only two people Terry trusted with his heart. 

With two bowls and spoons on a serving tray, Marvin made his way to the kitchen table. He stopped short to get a good look at his son with blue green eyes even more captivating than Terry's. He noted the new frown lines developing on his brow and the lone grey hair sprouting in his goatee. His boy was stressed and confused. He didn't need a conversation to tell him that but welcomed it anyway. 

After sliding one bowl across the table, he took a seat with his signature grunt. "Start at the top. Plenty of time still left in the day." 

Terry quietly thanked his father for his generosity and avoided the question by eating the first bite of his meal. They ate in silence for several seconds until Terry took a deep breath. 

"I think I've been okay. More ups than downs lately, but the downs are pretty damn low. I'm having a tough time sleeping. I'm barely working. I feel like a burden for Treece more than I feel like a man who can actually do something for her." 

"Being a man is about more than what you can do." 

"Yeah, but…" Terry trailed off, trying to gather his thoughts. "It's just - things weren't supposed to be this hard. I gave this country a lot of my time, and I guess I expected to say my goodbyes and roll into my next chapter. Now, my plan b needs a plan b, and I'm out of options." 

"You're not out of options. You don't like askin' for help. Proud like your grandaddy." 

"And you too." 

Marvin chuckled and shook his head as he took another spoonful of food.  "This ain't about me."

The two men shared a laugh, their voices sounding nearly identical as they bounced off the walls. He was the spitting image of his father, both in stature and moral compass. 

"What do you need, James?" Marvin had grown serious again, making Terry avert his eyes to focus on his food. "I'll save you the stress of asking, but you gotta tell me what I need to offer. Is it money?"

"Not much. Enough to pay some bills until the end of the month, and I can have it back to you. I think I have a shot at this job on base if I can get through the second interview."

"How you getting back and forth? I know y'all do the Lyft and Ubom thing these days. Ridin' around with strangers like we didn't spend a whole decade tell y'all not to." 

Terry laughed. "It's Uber, Pop. But, no. Treece is out for the summer, so I'm…using her car when I need it. I don't wanna take advantage of her." 

"Those some of the bills you need help paying?" Marvin's question was answered with a silent head nod and eyes filled with shame. He softened his voice as he reached into his wallet for the cash he had on hand. "It's what you're supposed to do. Ain't no shame. That money is for yourself. Give me til tomorrow afternoon to have more. Five grand enough?" 

"Ah, Pop, I don-" 

"We didn't work as hard as we did for nothing. Plus, it's your college fund money we never withdrew. You're lucky your mother hasn't used it for renovations. She's been eyeing your sister's old room for an indoor she-shed or whatever the hell it's called." 

Marvin sounded exasperated by the concept of his wife's latest project, which amused Terry. They hadn't changed since the day he left. They were just two people who had been in love since the day they met and remained committed to supporting each other through the ebbs and flows of life. 

Standing from the kitchen table, Marvin shuffled around the corner to the garage entrance and returned with a ring of keys and a pile of mail. He tossed them at Terry and returned to his seat. 

"What's this?" 

"Keys to GMC outside. Take it. You might need to run it for a little bit and change the oil, but it works fine. The rest is your mail." Terry opened his mouth to protest and received a glare from his father in return. "I gave you my best speech about askin' for help, and here you go ruining things. Take the truck before I tell your mama."

"Alright, alright," Terry laughed as he raised his hands. "I love you, Pop." 

"Love you, man. I'm proud of you." Not ones for the warm fuzzies of hugs, the two extended their arms across the table for a quick fist bump before returning to their meals. Marvin let his son eat in peace for a few moments before the corner of his lips curled in a knowing smile. "So…Patrice Ellis, huh? That little love letter you wrote in 10th grade finally coming true?" 

"Pop." 

"Ah, come on. It's alright to be in love, son. She's a good girl. Got good folks, too. What's the holdup?" 

In love? The more Terry attempted to negotiate the gravity of the phrase within himself, the more he had to reckon with the idea that his father may not be that far off base.

Terry slowed his eating and looked at his father for help. "You think I'm in love?" 

"Oh, I know you are. You didn't come back to Fayetteville for me, did you?" 

"How would I know, though? How did you know?" 

Marvin stopped eating to sit back in his chair. A fond smile crossed his face as he thought of his younger years. 

"I knew I was in love when I wanted to show up every day and do the work to be with her. It didn't matter if she pissed me off or if we disagreed about decisions. At the end of every day, I can look at her and know I'm where I want to be forever. Plus, I still get a little fired up when she walks through the door all these years later. I ain't much to look at, but your mother is…" 

Marvin let his sentence drop to whistle at the mention of his wife. Terry pretended to take exception but eventually laughed at his father's antics. He quickly relaxed into a contemplative state. 

"I wanna be the best I can for her," he spoke softly. "I get…sad when she's gone for too long. Sometimes, I find myself forcing conversation just to make her look at me because the light in her eyes is the only thing keeping me grounded most days. What does that mean?" 

"You don't need me to answer that, son. Go with what you know." 

Before Terry could seek more advice, the mechanical roar of the garage door made Marvin nearly spring out of his seat to greet his one true love. 

Outside, Patrice was nearly doubled over from laughter in the front seat. 

Diedra "DeeDee" Richmond was the quintessential Southern black woman. Like a prim and proper belle, she wore her color-treated blonde hair big to match an even bigger personality.  She wore heels with every outfit and never left the house without earrings, but she could also drink and cuss like a sailor. 

When she offered Patrice the chance to tag along for her monthly Sister Circle meeting, there was no chance she'd miss the opportunity to ditch Terry and kick it with the upper crust of Black women. 

"And, girl, Rita thinks we can't tell that she took every one of those appetizers out of the damn freezer section. At least go to the Publix bakery. Finger sandwiches ain't that expensive." 

Amid their gossip session, the garage door's chime caught Dee Dee's attention, effectively ending her one-woman show in favor of giving her husband the eye. Behind him, Terry stood with a nervous smile and puppy dog eyes that he directed at Patrice. 

"Marry a Richmond, child. You'll never lift a finger for the rest of your life. Lord knows I love me some him. Hey, baby!" DeeDee advised as she watched Marvin nearly float to the driver's side to open her door. 

Patrice watched Marvin and DeeDee fawn over each other like teenage lovers until the faint pop of her door opening brought her back to life. 

Terry stood in the gap with his hand out to offer assistance. She accepted without protest, letting him gently pull her from the passenger side with her bags in tow and close the door behind her.

"I missed you." 

Terry's admission came in a sweet voice as he dipped his head to place two chaste kisses on Patrice's lips. Only the knowledge of his parents 10 feet away kept her from turning an innocent display of affection into something vulgar. 

Patrice chased his lips once he pulled away, earning a deep chuckle that vibrated her chest. 

"We kissing in front of the parents now?" 

"Too much," he asked, suddenly embarrassed. 

She used her thumb to wipe lip gloss from his bottom lip before rising to her tip toes to kiss his nose. "No. You're perfect." 

Dee Dee and Marvin watched the young couple giggle at nothing in particular with broad smiles and full hearts. 

"Treece, when's the last time you had some of my red beans and rice?" 

Marvin's question made both of them jump like children caught in the act with the realization that they weren't alone. 

"Way too long," Patrice answered, her stomach almost growling at the mention. 

"Then have dinner with us. We'd love to have you." 

Patrice looked toward Terry for confirmation, making Dee Dee cackle as she started up the stairs into her home. "Child, forget him. Terrence don't run nothing 'round here! Come get this food."

Terry's eyes grew wide at his mother's dismissal while Patrice dissolved into an uncontrollable fit of laughter at his expense on her way into the house. 

"Oh, that's funny," he asked, following her lead. "That's the last time I let y'all hang out unsupervised." 

Three extra hours at Terry's parents' house wasn't enough for the tandem to abandon their new night routine. 

Patrice stood at her bathroom sink, scrubbing the day from her face while Terry made himself comfortable on her closed toilet lid. Sometimes, he read something from Patrice's bookshelf, both preferring to simply exist in the same room. Other times, he watched baseball on his phone and attempted to provide color commentary despite Patrice not showing interest. This time, though, he sat with relaxed shoulders and low eyes while she moved through her beauty routine. 

Something about the sleepytime body wash had him laser-focused on how her legs looked a mile long beneath her nightshirt, oiled to perfection and glistening under the warm vanity lights. He wanted to reach out and touch her. Maybe pull her closer by her thighs and whisper every single nasty thought on his mind below her navel until she promised never to leave his side. 

But, he shook his inner man loose and leaned forward to re-engage with her as she called his name. 

"You know you should use a gentle exfoliant every once in a while. It'll help your breakouts. Use some of my sunscreen, too. It's dangerous for you to let the sun hit your face with no protection."

Blah, blah, blah. Everything she said sounded like a chorus of 1000 angels to him. She could've revealed the cure to cancer, and he would be too lovestruck to notice. 

Knowing his restraint was dwindling, he stood abruptly and stretched his arms above his head with a yawn as she added moisturizer to her face.

Patrice watched him take up space behind her through the mirror, shifting so he could leave something to remember him by on her shoulder and neck. 

"Good night," he spoke between kisses, the words muffled against her skin. 

"Already? It's not that late, is it?" 

"I promised Corey I'd help him with football practice at Francis tomorrow morning."

"He'll run you ragged if you don't speak up." 

"I'll speak up. I promise." 

Using what little space she had, Patrice turned to rest her backside on the counter and face Terry. She used her index finger to hook his gold herringbone chain and bring him down for a kiss. Or kisses. It'd been so long since they could have each other in this way. Time and experience, both together and separately, had them maneuvering like professionals. Each kiss was teasing and sensual in equal measure. A tangible mastery of retreating and aggression made the pursuit of one another worth the wait. 

They'd lost track of their exhibition until Terry's phone buzzing against the toilet seat jolted them back into reality.

Patrice flattened her palms against his chest to create some separation and end what would surely turn into blurred lines if they weren't careful. "Good night, TJ.  Grab that exfoliant out of my shower before you leave. It's in the caddie." 

Terry took the gentle redirection in stride, smiling at her through the mirror before turning to do as she had asked. Patrice used what little focus she could muster to secure her headscarf to her head, desperate to extend her box braids for one more week. 

"What's this?" 

"What's what?" She didn't bother to look away from her task until the low hum of her vibrator caught her attention. She whipped her body around, too stunned to reach for the bright pink toy that had Terry smirking as he examined its buttons. "That is my personal property for personal and private use." 

"When's the last time you used it?" 

"It's been a while. A month or so." Mostly true. She couldn't say she hadn't thought about it more recently.

"Since I've been here?" 

She shrugged. "Kinda hard to get comfortable when there's a person on the other side of the wall." 

The mere sound of the only thing to touch her in two years made the hair on her arms stand at attention. Her eyes darted between the toy and Terry, who made himself familiar with each speed and pattern, cycling through dirty thoughts and intrigue as he held the device against his arm to get a feel for the intensity, 

Setting one? Bearable. A softball. Setting three? Maybe she'd call out his name from the pleasure? Setting seven? Surely, she'd hang on to him like a wet t-shirt on a Playboy model while she rode the crest of her orgasm. 

The possibilities excited him to no end. He needed to test each and every theory.

In two clicks, he returned the toy to its original setting and then off completely, holding it in one hand while taking slow steps to close the gap between him and the only person on his mind. 

She shifted her weight nervously as he approached, unsure how to respond until he towered over her with a look she knew all too well. 

Desire. 

Their senses were heightened. Everything felt surreal, almost as if one misstep could send them flying through a portal back to a more disappointing reality. 

Terry could smell the faint hint of mint on Patrice's breath before dipping his head to nip at her bottom lip with his teeth. She responded like he knew she would by making him work for his prize. Patrice never let him intimidate her. Not for their first time together all those years ago, certainly not now. 

He chuckled before leaning in again, this time leaving a trail of short kisses from her jaw to her clavicle. He inhaled deeply, breathing in vanilla and the subtle spice of his cologne from moments earlier.

Suddenly, Patrice felt weightless. Her feet dangled briefly and without warning as Terry took her from standing to sitting on the cold, hard counter before she could protest. 

Patrice fought for stability, using the peaks and valleys across the expanse of his muscled arms as her anchor in the dizzying experience that was his affection. Her lips parted to draw in sharp breaths and release airy sighs of approval in a feeble attempt to remain present. At the same time, he kissed his appreciation wherever his lips saw fit. Her legs acted under their own power to spread wider and make room for whatever came next. 

Her hands left a trail of tingles as she dragged them from his arms to the back of his head, down the sides of his face, over his tank top, between his pecs, and, finally, into the waistband of his shorts. 

Surprised by her touch, he lurched forward to grab her wrist. "Not this time," he whispered, unsure he meant what he was saying. 

Patrice nodded in understanding, earning a sloppy kiss for her obedience. 

There was no discerning where his mouth ended, and hers began. They were on one accord, hungrily tasting, exploring, and consuming each other without holding back. 

Then, the low hum returned. This time, it was closer than Patrice remembered. 

Cold silicone soon caressed her inner thigh. A low whimper escaped past her lips as she made eye contact with Terry. He leaned close enough to speak against her mouth. 

"You trust me?" 

"Mhmm," she answered, fighting to keep her eyes open as he moved further up her leg. 

"Let me take care of you, then. Take these off for me." 

Trembling fingers latched onto her boyshorts, pushing them to mid-thigh for Terry to take care of the rest. As quickly as he was gone, he'd returned for another taste of her tongue. Languid and unhurried, he used the time to relax her while slowly inching the vibrator to her center. 

Initial contact made her hips buck forward, and her head softly hit the mirror behind her. Terry chased her with sloppy kisses at the base of her neck. 

The slow and steady setting was enough to get her wet and sticky. Terry'd be lying if he said the thought alone didn't have him wanting to renege on his early statement and dive in with reckless abandon. But, he remained steadfast in his pursuit of her pleasure. 

Once the initial shock had worn off, Patrice ground her hips slowly, making small circles while the vibration worked to settle her nerves. Terry took a break from leaving praises in the form of kisses on her throat to smile at his girl. 

"You're beautiful. You know that?"

She gripped his chin and pulled him closer for a fiery kiss that he let her lead. "Yeah. But, I love to hear you say it." 

"Good," he answered, grinning at her confidence as he upped the intensity on her vibrator. Her eyes clamped shut as her entire body tensed. "Stay with me." 

A deep, steadying breath turned into a silent scream as Patrice gave in to the natural urge to hold her breath. Terry used his free hand to sneak up her tank top and grope one breast while pressing his lips to her ear. 

"Breathe, baby. In and out." He modeled the behavior until she found the strength to match his tempo. "There you go. You feel good?" 

"Yes, yes," she whisper-chanted to the ceiling, her head thrown back in unimaginable euphoria. 

"I want you to feel this good every day. You deserve it, right?" 

A twisting, turning feeling at the pit of her stomach forced her to draw in a deep breath to steady herself. Her answer came in a soft moan. "Right." 

"Damn right." Pressing his forehead to hers, he zeroed in on each of her features twisted in unthinkable pleasure. 

She kept her mouth open to sigh and moan as she saw fit. Her nostrils flared in a rhythm as she tried to force herself to breathe through every peak and valley of the moment. Her brows were knitted, and her eyes closed as if she were too afraid to look at him. He wondered what she was thinking. 

Did she want him inside of her as much as he wanted the same for himself? Was she yearning for more pressure? Could she feel how much he loved her?

"Don't get quiet on me. I want everything. Let 'em hear you. You need more?" 

A quick glance down helped him reposition the vibrator on her already sensitive bud, earning a guttural curse as appreciation for his good deed. 

"Fuck! Don't move. Please don't move." 

Terry obliged for the moment, too entranced by his view of her flower on full display for his viewing pleasure. Glistening. Wet. Beautiful. Appetizing like nothing he'd ever seen before. He pulled the toy away and replaced its presence with his thumb. Slow circles and firm pressure made her want to close her legs to escape the overwhelming stimulation, but her attempt was futile. She was at his mercy. 

"Damn," he whispered to himself, enamored by the way her body reacted to his touch. 

Every revolution around her clit brought with it more wetness at her entrance and indentations in his arms from her nails gripping for dear life. 

It wasn't enough to touch her. He needed to taste. 

Using his middle and ring fingers, he teased his introduction with gentle brushes against her inner lips. She keened for more against his mouth as she held his face close. He granted her wish and pushed into her slowly, immediately feeling her warmth envelop his long digits. 

Their mouths hung open, breaths being traded between the two as he set a slow pace. Not enough to bring forth a release. Just enough for Terry to get what he came for. 

Removing his fingers left him with a coating of clear arousal nearly dripping to his knuckles. Patrice watched him as he smirked at the sight, examining it like a jeweler appraising precious diamonds. 

When he'd seen enough, he put both fingers into his mouth and closed his eyes to savor the taste. Patrice's mouth hung open as if waiting for her turn to experience the wonders of her juices. 

Had she closed her eyes for even a second, she would have missed Terry extending his tongue from his mouth to allow a mixture of his saliva and her essence the chance to slide from his tongue in anticipation of a new host. 

Something profound and hungry within her made her lean her head back and hold her tongue out to receive all that he had to give. It excited her, delighted her, and aroused her like never before.

Like a lewd work of art, spit connected their tongues in what would otherwise be seen as an infraction among more proper circles. But fuckin' wasn't proper, and all forms of affection were welcomed in their home. 

Almost immediately, Terry rushed to reward her with a wild and frenzied kiss that nearly surprised him. 

Primal. Carnal. Intense. Fucking disgusting. He loved every minute of it.

The race was on. Terry kept their lips connected as he returned the vibrator to her clit, dialing up the settings to a level below their max. 

Patrice's moans and his couldn't be distinguished from one another. Her hips bucked wildly. Her fingernails left marks in their wake as they scratched at his arms and back. Her body twitched and seized in anticipation of the inevitable. 

"Oh my - fuck!" Satisfied tears slid from the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks to her man's awaiting lips. "Terrence!" 

Terry remained locked in. A man possessed. A one-track mind focused on nothing other than completing the mission. 

The first stage of her orgasm came without a warning. Heat washed over her as if she'd stepped outside at high noon, making her skin almost unbearable to live in. Her toes curled, her voice caught in her throat despite the intense desire to release a scream from the depths of her soul into the atmosphere. 

She thanked Terry and God in Heaven for blessing her with the opportunity to touch the moon and the stars without ever leaving her home. Terry used his free hand to grip and massage her thighs, knowing that the best was yet to come. 

Patrice's voice began to climb as the main event approached. Shallow breaths gave way to loud gasps for air, which came rapidly while she did the same. She was suspended in a beautiful bliss and already sad about the prospect of coming down. 

Her lover reveled in the opportunity to see her unraveling at the seams. 

"I'll always come back to you, beautiful. No matter what, okay? Look at me." His request earned intense focus from Patrice under hooded eyes. "You're so pretty. Say it back to me. Tell me you're pretty."

"I'm so pretty!" Impending release sent all her words out in one breathless sentence. 

He smiled at her compliance. "I know you're close. Hold my hand."

Her fingers scrambled against the counter, filling the spaces between his fingers and gripping with enough force to turn her knuckles a lighter shade of brown. 

"That's my girl. I love you," was all he could manage before Patrice let out something akin to a squeal, turning his declaration into background fodder. 

Sensitive, overstimulated, and completely spent, the after-effects of her release had her panting to recover. Her ears rang with a heady feeling that could only be compared to a few puffs of homegrown bud. 

Terry held her through it all, propping her up while her body sagged against him for stability. He put aside the vibrator to run his palms up and down her legs while he showered her temple with whispered praises and sweet kisses. 

He waited until her breathing was even before gingerly pressing his forehead to hers. "You good?" 

His smirk was incredibly smug. He was proud of himself, and for good reason. She was open to giving credit where credit was due. 

"You can never leave this house without me again. I hope you're happy." 

"That's the whole point. My granny taught me some things during them summers down in New Orleans, you know?" 

"Oh, so this is some magic shit?" 

"Family business, baby. Gotta have the last name to find out." A playful glint in his eyes and a squeeze to her waist made Patrice's stomach feel butterflies that she thought would never return. Terry tapped her nose with his index finger and stepped back. "Stay put. I'll clean you up." 

Patrice scoffed. Stay put. As if she could go anywhere. As if she wanted to go anywhere.

Like the perfect gentleman, Terry was tender with his care. A warm towel to soothe sore muscles and ensure a thorough cleanup was mandatory. The extra loving was complimentary for only his favorite lady. 

"Stay with me tonight," Patrice requested as he slid her panties back up her legs. 

He shook his head and smiled while prompting her to lift her hips. "I don't know if that's a good idea, Treecey." 

"I just wanna be next to you. Nothing more." 

Terry regarded her doe-eyed plea with a small smile as he helped her off the counter. He pulled her into an embrace, fiending for one more kiss. She obliged happily until he'd had his fill. 

His hands slid from her sides to her ass for a generous squeeze before answering. 

"Okay. Whatever you want. Let me handle something real quick, and then I'll meet you there." 

Patrice accepted her victory with a silly happy dance before turning to make enough room in her bed for an extra person. Terry sent her on her way with a light tap to her ass, amused by how something as simple as sleeping next to each other was exciting for her. 

Once she was safely out of the bathroom with the door shut behind her, he finally found time to take a deep breath and compose himself. The actual test of his strength was in the next room, and he couldn't risk the trust he'd worked so hard to build. 

After adjusting his shorts, he picked up his phone and sat on the toilet lid, hoping that watching dog videos or Nationals highlights would clear his mind.

He had every intention of opening the web browser on his phone until he noticed a series of messages from an old friend.

From: McBride 

You check your mail? 

Trial against chief starts in two weeks. Gonna need you to testify to take him down

Know you said you weren’t coming back

Do it for Mike

---

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @oniccah @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @deja-r

[us-air-force-2]

[hannahbarberra162]

Under the Microscope (Yandere Sabo x Reader)

18+ MDNI on Ao3

Part 2

Inspired by "A Good Prisoner," by greenflowerpot. They're an incredible writer, I used the story setup but with Sabo. I'm not sure how many parts this will be, but it won't follow the same story path beyond the jail.

Also I don’t know anything about molecules. Or genes. Or anything related to Sciemps. So if it’s wrong, uh... just roll with it.

Yandere Sabo X Reader (no use of Y/N)

~~~

Sabo's the best prisoner you've ever had at your Marine base. He's polite, handsome, and pleasant company. You'll be sad when he gets sent to Impel Down. But Sabo's got other ideas that might not align with your own.

~

The Marines aren't taking good care of you. So Sabo's going to have to do it himself.

Flame Emperor Sabo was the best prisoner you’d ever guarded. It surprised you because you preferred pirate prisoners to Revolutionary Army prisoners. Pirates were at least straightforward, saying lewd comments to you, leering at you, and mocking you in equal amounts. Their disdain for you as a Marine, particularly a desk bound Marine, was nearly palpable in every interaction.

Revolutionaries, however, seemed to think that you were unaware of the situation of the world and lectured you endlessly about how you were a cog in the machine that would destroy everything and everyone in it. The constant aggrandizing of their own station - while in literal chains! - was so grating you stopped interacting with any of them long ago. Instead you’d study during your guard shift, hoping the prisoner at hand would sleep or leave you alone. You knew the Marines weren’t a benevolent government force, but science as a career really only existed within the context of the World Government. Unless you wanted to work directly for a pirate or Warlord, which was….risky at best. Being a Marine killed two birds with one stone - you got to work in your dream profession and you got to send steady money back to your family. So you shut your mouth, completed basic training and joined the ranks of the Marines.

After basic training, you’d made your way into the research division of the Marines, forgoing active duty. You didn’t see battle or even leave the base, just worked on the research assignments handed down to you from your superiors. Over the past two years, the projects had gotten increasingly complex and you had to spend nearly all your waking hours working or studying. If you could devote all your time to research, you might be able to finish with a little more speed. Unfortunately, the Marines had a rule that all Devil Fruit users had to supervise prisoners at minimum once a week. You assumed they made the rule thinking Devil Fruit users would be able to use their powers to fight, but that wasn’t true for you. You’d tried to get your name off the list of Devil Fruit guards to no avail. Government red tape and regulations meant that for at least 8 hours a week, you’d be watching whoever was in the maximum security jail cell. No one liked guard duty - you’d rather be researching and the other Marines would rather be fighting. 

Your base - Bayonette  - was strategically located at a narrowing of the Grand Line paths. Ships had to pass near the island unless they wanted to take a much longer route around it. Which meant that most of the Marines at your base were from the fighting corps, and enjoyed engaging the pirates and Revolutionaries in battle. You were one of two scientists at this base, you hadn’t been asked where you wanted to be stationed. You had hoped to get to a science focused base, but you took what came your way. The other Marines were disdainful of your position, thinking you provided no real use to the base as a whole. You’d tried to fit in with them for a few months but gave up as they grew more hostile towards you the more you tried.  Sure, every time there was a party someone would secretly try to get into your pants, but for the most part they found you weak and pointless. You avoided them, they ignored or taunted you. You spent nearly all of your time alone and working both to complete your projects and to avoid the others. It was a lonely time for you, even if it was important for your career. 

You were so disconnected from the active duty staff that you hadn’t even known a prisoner as notorious as the Flame Emperor was at the base until you walked in for your shift, textbook and notes tucked under your arm and cup of coffee in your hand. He was laying on the wide metal bench that doubled as his bed, hands in seastone cuffs resting behind his head. Upon seeing you, he sat upright, straightened his suit coat, and put his tophat on his head. 

He was wearing an interesting ensemble, but you’d seen far worse. He had a full suit complete with frilly shirt, top hat with goggles, and leather gloves.  The cell room was usually warm but today it felt downright hot, you wondered why he wasn’t removing some of his layers. Not that it really mattered. He had prominent facial scarring covering his left eye and going further down his face and neck. The eye with the scarring was milky white, while the other was startlingly blue, like the color of a turbulent sea. He had likely been good looking before the scars, but  now he was unreasonably attractive for a criminal. You wondered how he got his scars - probably from nefarious activities of some kind. You realized belatedly you were staring at him. 

“Hello, pleased to meet you. I’m Sabo,” he said, tipping his hat to you. He was introducing himself like you were on a blind date, not a prisoner and guard. 

“Aren’t you the Flame Emperor?” you asked him. Did you get your criminals mixed up again? You’d found out the hard way nothing made them angrier than confusing them for someone else. Not that they could do anything to you from behind bars, but it was annoying to listen to them rant and rave about your mistake.

“That’s my epithet, but you can just call me Sabo.” Your surprise must have registered on your face because he looked at you from his cell and smiled kindly.

“Um, it’s nice to meet you, Sabo.” You sat down opposite his cell on the long bench provided to you and put down your textbook and sheets of notes. The bench was bracketed by thick walls on either side, giving you something to lean against while seated if it was a smooth shift.

“How come you’ve never been my guard before?” 

“Oh, I only work one or two shifts a week.” Generally you avoided talking to prisoners, especially about information related to Marine matters, but you couldn’t see how this would hurt. It’s not like he wouldn’t figure it out. He stared at you unblinkingly through the bars, taking stock of you head to foot. You hoped he wouldn’t try anything violent since you couldn’t do anything to stop him if he succeeded. 

“Why don’t you have a gun?” Sabo was observant, usually prisoners didn’t notice at all. 

“I just don’t,” you said, shrugging.

“But why don’t you have one?” he asked conversationally. Sabo’s ability to pick up your semantic games gave him some standing in your eyes. Usually you could talk your way out of having to answer questions with half truths and lies of omission. You answered him with another shrug. It was better that he didn’t know you had never been assigned one since you were only research staff. You yawned and took a sip of your coffee right after. Plenty of cream and sugar, just the way you liked it. You’d practically been mainlining coffee with this new assignment. It had come to you directly from Admiral Sakazuki himself, so you were under immense pressure to get everything right - and fast. 

“You look exhausted. Are you not getting enough rest?” Sabo had come to sit in front of the bars and was continuing to watch you.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you replied coolly. The truth was that you were exhausted and had been for weeks. But when you tried to close your eyes and rest at night all you could think of was your work, how behind you were, and how you’d have to explain yourself to the Fleet Admiral. Being reminded of your sleeplessness and anxiety made your hand holding the coffee start to shake. You frowned to yourself and set down the cup on the bench. This had been happening to you for months now and was only getting worse. You put your hands under your thighs to stop them from shaking. Sabo was watching you, which made you feel self conscious, so you avoided eye contact. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes. You pulled your hands from under your legs and picked up the textbook. 

“What are you reading?” Sabo asked cordially. He was not giving up. Rather, it seemed the less you talked to him, the more he wanted to talk to you. At least he wasn't being rude or crude, you supposed. You flashed him the cover of the textbook.

“Molecular Diagnostics: Nucleic acid amplification,” he said as he recited the title aloud. No one ever cared after you showed them what you read. You cracked it open to where you’d left off and started to concentrate.

“Interesting! So what are you looking for that can’t be detected with fluorescence in situ hybridization?” Your head snapped up - you hadn’t heard anyone talk about FISH since you’d been at the base. 

“You know about molecular cytogenetics?” you asked in disbelief. Sabo nodded fervently, bringing his hands under his chin.

“Of course! If I hadn’t become a Revolutionary, I would have become a scientist. I still try and do some experiments on the side, but between fighting the World Government and being a Marine prisoner, I just haven’t had the time lately.” You looked down at your textbook but had a small smile on your face. 

���I didn’t know this was a research base,” Sabo continued, arching his brow.

“It isn’t really.” You had to be careful about how much you said, you couldn’t give him any information about what you were working on. But this base wasn’t known for research, that was common knowledge. 

“I’m not going to divulge any information,” you uttered, crossing your arms. You’d figured out his angle. Sabo probably thought he could get information out of you by pretending to be interested in what you liked. Though, he had known about FISH, so maybe some of his interest was genuine? Probably not. You’d learned from childhood onward that people only talked to you when they needed something, not for companionship. Even your own family was like that. They loved you of course, but they didn’t really understand you in any meaningful way. 

“Hm? I don’t want information from you. Just conversation. You’re the most interesting Marine who’s stepped foot in here,” replied Sabo with wide eyes. You did your best to keep from rolling your eyes. How stupid did he think you were? You’d keep your guard up, there was no way he was telling the truth.

“Well, I do want one piece of information from you,” he continued. “You didn’t tell me your name. What should I call you?” He’d hear it at guard change anyway, might as well share something in the hopes it satisfied some of his curiosity.

“People around here call me Mag.” You looked back down at your textbook to hopefully end the conversation.

“Mag? That’s an unusual name. Is it short for anything?” Sabo asked, your standoffish body language not affecting his desire for conversation. He was now as close to you as he could get within his cell. 

“It’s just a nickname.” It hadn’t been one you liked or wanted, but it had stuck with you since basic training.

“How did you get it?”

“Listen, I don’t … I really need to study, I’m sorry.” You cringed as you realized you had apologized to your own prisoner. It was a hard habit to break. Sabo raised his hands in front of his face apologetically and smiled at you again. You were burning up in the room - you untied your neckerchief and unbuttoned your jacket. It wasn’t inappropriate, just not in code. But it was so hot you thought you’d pass out if you didn’t do something.

“Please forgive me. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mag.” Sabo didn’t talk to you for the next few hours, but he did watch you the entire time. Every time you raised your eyes from your book to check on him, he was looking at you with interest. When you went to write notes, you’d feel his blue and white eyes on you. He wasn’t even embarrassed about being caught, he just smiled at you and continued to stare like it was the most normal thing in the world. You weren’t even sure he was blinking, just observing you like you were under a microscope. After a while, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why are you staring at me?” you snapped your textbook shut angrily, making a loud cracking noise. It was hard for you to concentrate knowing he was surveying you constantly. 

“How often do your hands shake?” Sabo asked, tilting his head in curiosity. You were taken aback by his non-sequitur.

“I don’t keep track.” You did actually, and the frequency was increasing. 

“It gets worse when you stop reading and start writing notes. What’s making you so nervous? It can’t be the molecules.” You pressed your lips into a thin line. You hadn’t realized it was so noticeable. 

“I don’t mean to upset you. I’m just worried,” he said with a frown. You barked out an incredulous laugh. 

“Worried? About me? I appreciate your concern but I think you should worry about yourself,” you said in an unamused tone. Just who did he think he was? Your father? Sabo’s frown deepened. It was finally time for shift change and you could leave this strange prisoner and his penetrating gaze. By the time you would have another shift, he might even be sent to Impel Down and wouldn’t have to think about him again. You gathered your things and walked towards the door, needing to wait for someone to come before you could leave. Unfortunately you saw your least favorite person was coming in after you, Petty Officer Koji. And petty was certainly a good term for him. Ever since you spurned his advances, he’d been making your life hell whenever he could. He opened the door suddenly with a bang, making you jump.

“Aw Mag, didn’t mean to scare you. Doors can be so very frightening,” he said sarcastically, bumping you hard with his shoulder as he came into the room. You nearly fell backwards with the force of his knock, instead stumbling into the wall behind you. He liked to pick you for a lot of reasons, but especially because of your lack of combat skills. You didn’t reply. He took his time looking you up and down, which made your skin crawl.

“Why are you out of uniform?” he asked in an obnoxious tone. You looked down and realized you forgot to rebutton your shirt and tie your neckerchief. Normally, you’d just get a verbal order to get back to code, especially since this room was known for being too warm. But you had a feeling Koji was going to make this a problem.

“I apologize, Petty Officer Koji. It was hot in the –” 

“I didn’t ask for your excuse, Ensign. As punishment, you’ll take the rest of my guard shifts for the next two weeks starting tomorrow. Understood?” Ugh, he found a way to get out of his shifts on guard duty. No one liked them - you’d rather be researching and the other Marines would rather be fighting. You hoped this wouldn’t be a recurring theme.

“Understood, sir,” you gritted out. Now you’d have even less time. Your hands shook as you had them at your sides. You flicked your eyes to Sabo, who was watching your dressing down by Koji. But this time he wasn’t smiling or watching with enjoyment, he looked deathly serious. Gone was the Sabo you’d met, cheerful and chatty. Sabo was still staring, this time at Koji, and you felt like you were watching a panther stalking its prey. Even though Sabo was in chains you felt like you were trapped with him, not the other way around. This was the Flame Emperor, you thought, and the sudden change in his demeanor sent a shiver down your spine.

“Dismissed,” Koji barked at you, cracking his knuckles. You left quickly, fixing your uniform as you walked. Koji stalked towards the cell. Sabo adjusted his leather gloves.

~~~

Koji had quite a few shifts on guard duty that week, no wonder he wanted to dump them on you. Your anxiety increased at an exponential rate when you saw how many more shifts you had over the course of the next two weeks and how much of your research time was being eaten up by just sitting. There wasn’t anything you could do about it - he was your superior officer and had given you an order. Maybe you could get reading done, or maybe Sabo would be transferred soon. Either one would help you out.

The next day you hurried into the cell room a few minutes late and relieved your fellow Ensign. You had been working through some genetic sequencing, thinking you might have made a breakthrough, and you lost track of the time. You grabbed whatever you’d had at the top of your “to read” pile and made a run for the detention center. You threw it down on the bench, sat down and took a deep breath. You didn’t even have time to grab a coffee, which would be a drag for the next few hours. You looked into the cell and saw Sabo already sitting in front of the bars, waving and smiling.

“Good morning, Mag!” Sabo said cheerfully. You weren’t sure what he could be so cheerful about, he had a black eye and a split lip. He may have had more damage but his now ripped clothes covered most of his body. You furrowed your brow slightly and walked up to the cell bars, mouth dipping into a frown. Marines weren’t supposed to rough up prisoners who had already been processed and interrogated. Sure, it happened, but it wasn’t supposed to. You had a good guess who did it - but nothing would come of it even if you reported it. It would be Sabo’s word against a Marine’s and wouldn’t even make it to an official report.

“Are you OK?” you asked in a low voice, grabbing the bars and peering closer at him.

“Hm? What? Why?” Sabo asked in confusion. “Oh, the bruises? It’s nothing.” He shrugged and you noticed something was off about his shoulder. You’d seen it before with your sister. 

“Is your shoulder dislocated?” It was impressive he wasn’t screaming in pain. He didn’t even seem to care.

“Oh, yes, I suppose. I tried popping it back in but the cuffs keep my hands at such an angle that I can’t.” He shrugged again.

You felt angry that he’d been hurt while unable to fight back. When you’d joined the Marines, you were naive and thought that you’d be helping people alongside other like minded individuals. Instead you’d found that people were the same everywhere - small minded and working to meet their own ends, not the greater good. Sabo had been pleasant enough to speak to and was obviously intelligent. You hadn’t hated the shift which was more than you could say about most prisoners you’d watched. You stood at the bars for a moment and made a choice.

“I’m sorry that happened. I’m gonna pop your shoulder back in.” You turned to walk over to the opposite wall where the keys to the cell hung. Your hands were shaking slightly.

“Why?” Sabo said in disbelief. You grabbed the keys and turned around, perplexed.

“It will feel better? I mean, prisoners shouldn’t be treated like this,” you said, gesturing vaguely to him. 

“Even violent prisoners like me?” Sabo questioned.

“Yes, even violent prisoners like you.” You were second guessing yourself now that he had mentioned his violent nature. You’d looked up his bounty out of curiosity - it was over 600 million Beri. You didn’t get a bounty that high by picking endangered flowers.

“That's a very liberal opinion, I’m not sure it fits with the general attitude of the Marines.” You hummed and got closer to the cell bars.

“Do you promise not to hurt me if I come in? I don’t have a gun but I’m a devil fruit user so don’t mess with me.” You felt foolish even saying the words. You knew this was a bad idea but you couldn’t stand the thought of his shoulder being out of place and no way to fix it. You remembered from your sister often crying from the pain and couldn't bear the thought of Sabo feeling the same. He didn’t need to know your devil fruit wouldn’t help you in a fight against him. Sabo nodded slowly and with conviction. 

“I would never hurt you,” he said huskily. Strangely, you believed him. You took a deep breath, held it for five seconds, and exhaled. 

“Ok, I’m coming in.” You unlocked the door and quickly entered. You wanted this over with as soon as possible and to put distance between you and the Flame Emperor once more. Sabo watched you with curiosity but didn’t get up or move in any way. Your hands were shaking so much you laced your fingers together.

You walked towards him slowly, like you would towards a wild animal. You knelt by his sitting form and took stock of his injuries. He had obviously been beaten, you could now see bruises poking out from underneath his shirt. He was well muscled, if a little thin. They probably weren’t feeding him as much as he needed. You looked into his now black eye, and saw amusement in his gaze, like this was a silly game to him.

“I’m going to touch your shoulder now, ok? I want to feel the dislocation before I move it.” you said before you made any movement towards him. Sabo nodded silently and continued watching. You gently put your hands on his shoulder and carefully prodded different areas to figure out what needed to be done. His suit hid his muscled frame well, you could feel his corded muscles flex under your light touch. He was much warmer than you thought he’d be, but maybe it was just due to the heat in the room. Sabo didn’t move at all, didn’t make any indication he was in pain, just let you work. Once you’d figured out the angle, you were ready to manipulate.

“I’m going to pop it back in now. Try not to move,” you told him. You stood on your knees so you were angled perpendicular to his body and braced your hands on either side of his shoulder.

“3…2…” where you would have said one you moved his shoulder back into its socket. Sabo made no sounds or movement, but rolled it a little forwards and backwards afterwards.

“Is it back in? Does it feel better?” You hoped you did it right the first time, you hadn’t done it in a while. You were still on your knees near him in case you needed to do it again.

“It feels wonderful, thank you so much Mag.” Sabo said gratefully, turning to face you. He was only a foot or so away, so near you could count his eyelashes. It was at this moment you realized how close he was to you, how easily he could overpower you, and how stupid you had been to come into his cell. You scrambled up and left the cell as quickly as you could, locking him back within it. Hanging the key again, you released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You sat back down on your bench, mentally berating yourself for being so foolish. 

“How did you do that so gently? When my brother used to do it for me it always felt worse than when it got dislocated.” Sabo was still rolling his shoulder, trying to stretch it out.

“Oh, ah, one of my sisters has Ehlers Danlos Syndrome so I’ve been putting joints back in sockets for years. It can be tricky but it’s a skill like any other.” You picked up your work to start to read. 

“I appreciate your kindness, Mag. I assure you it won’t be forgotten.” Sabo spoke with determination and sincerity. You didn’t really know how to take his declaration - it wasn’t that big of a deal. 

“Well, how about this? If Revolutionaries attack the base in the future, promise to kill me last,” you said with a wry smile. You were feeling better about Sabo. He had the chance to injure you - or even kill you - and escape but instead he sat with docility and allowed you to touch him. Maybe you could actually talk to him about your interests, he’d seemed interested yesterday.

“Ah! You’ve finally smiled at me! And all it took was one dislocated shoulder. A small price to pay,” Sabo beamed at you, showcasing a dimple in his cheek. You rolled your eyes but felt your face heating a little. It really wasn’t fair how good looking he was. When he smiled he looked like an angel come to earth, sweet and kind. 

“Yeah yeah. Now, I have to get back to work.” You waved him off and cracked open your book. You’d started it before, but hadn’t gotten far. Sabo stood up and leaned against the bars of his cell.

“So what gene are you looking for?” Sabo asked. You looked up with a start. You hadn’t said anything to him about your work.

“How do you know that’s what I’m doing?” you said in a rush.

“Well, first of all you just confirmed it. You’re not a good liar.” He stated while pointing at you. You could kick yourself for your immediate response. Sabo wasn’t making fun of you, just stating facts. He was right, you couldn’t lie at all. Your hands started to shake again.

“Yesterday you were reading about sensitive molecular diagnostics and today you’re reading about non linear sequence inspection. So it stands to reason that you’re looking for some gene. Which one?” You were shocked he had put that all together - you didn’t think there was anyone within 1,000 kilometers who could do the same. You had been underestimating his intelligence.

“Um, I can’t tell you. It’s part of my research.” 

“Fair enough,” Sabo said with a sigh. You felt better that he was dropping the conversation. Not that you could tell him anyway, but it would be annoying to have to ignore him if he persisted. Sabo was quiet for a moment before asking another question.

“Will you share with me your devil fruit power then?” Oh, right. You’d revealed you were a devil fruit user. How many dumb mistakes can you make in one day? It wasn’t classified or anything, you just preferred not to talk about it. Maybe it would take his mind off your research. You shut the book and put it aside.

“I ate the Mag-Mag fruit. It allows me to magnify things.” You waited for him to tell you that it was useless. At least, that was the opinion of everyone on the base. 

“Is that why they call you Mag? How unoriginal,” he scoffed, adjusting his leather gloves. You laughed lightly.

“Yeah, I don’t care for the name either. But it’s been with me for a few years now, so I think I’m stuck with it.” 

“I can call you something else if you’d like,” Sabo supplied silkily.

“Um, like what?” you said. You were fairly sure he was flirting with you.

“How about darling?” he suggested in a throaty tone, watching your face.

“I don’t think - I’m not -” You looked away as your face heated, you didn’t like the turn this conversation was taking. 

“I meant nothing by it, I apologize,” he said smiling at you again. You didn’t answer, just looked out the window. You knew you weren’t the most attractive person in the world, he didn’t need to remind you. You had a lot of self confidence around your intelligence and general self worth but almost none around your physical body. People only wanted you when there were no other options or when drunk. No one had ever expressed interest in you romantically and you couldn’t imagine this incredible looking man would want you either. He was out of your league, criminal or not, and both of you knew it. He was just bored and playing with you for fun. 

In a quiet voice, you chided, “that’s not nice. Don’t say things you don’t mean.” Sabo looked at you with an indecipherable look on his face. He adjusted his leather gloves once again as you avoided looking at him.

“What can you do with your fruit? I imagine it’s a powerful tool.” You glanced at him and sighed. It wasn’t fair for you to take out your frustration on him. He hadn’t really said anything terrible. You had heard much worse in this room before and hadn’t taken offense before. You just had to remind yourself that Sabo wasn’t your friend, wasn’t your peer, wasn’t anything but a prisoner who’d be taken to Impel Down soon. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lash out at you. I’ve been stressed lately, but that’s no excuse. It’s easier if I show you how it works rather than tell you. Look out the window, you see those buildings out there? On the far side of the island? Watch.” 

You made a rectangle with your index fingers and thumbs and brought them apart, framing the buildings in the middle. You took your index and thumb and put them on the buildings and spread your fingers apart. The rectangle that you’d framed earlier now contained a zoomed in image of the buildings, which could now be identified as houses. You repeated the gesture, bringing your index finger and thumb apart again and now you were zoomed in enough to see the curtains hanging in the window of the farthest house. 

“I can magnify anything I frame with my fingers. It can be useful for research.” You’d eaten the fruit when you were a young teen and it had shaped the rest of your life, sharpening your interest in science and leading you to your current career.

“That is an incredible power! What is the maximum magnification you can achieve? How long can you hold it?” Sabo was enthusiastic, watching the houses intently. It was refreshing to have someone interested in your power.

“I have gotten to the sub-atomic level before, but that’s not usually necessary. The higher the magnification, the more power it takes for me to hold it. Something like this,” you said, gesturing to the houses, “I could easily hold for hours. But looking at molecules like DNA takes a lot out of me, especially if I have to zoom in and out frequently.” Sabo nodded his head fervently.

“I see. Thus leading to some of your exhaustion.” You didn't think he'd bring that up again. You didn’t answer, just erased the magnification rectangle by flicking your hand through it. 

“You’ll join me in the Revolutionary Army,” Sabo declared happily, clapping his hands together. You turned to face him and laughed. Was Sabo funny?

“Are you trying to recruit me? From your jail cell?” You chuckled again.

“No, no. Of course not. I’m not recruiting you, I’m telling you. You’ll be joining me.” Sabo said definitively, smiling ear to ear. You smiled back and exhaled sharply through your nose. What a silly notion.

“Naturally,” you replied, “let me know when you get out of Impel Down, and we can go together.” As if any of that would ever happen. You looked at the clock - your shift was over. It had gone faster than you thought it would, you’d had an interesting time with Sabo. As your colleague relieved you, you realized you were looking forward to your next shift. 

[war-cartoons]