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katealot-writes · 1 year ago

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Will Solace is so strong.

This is the thought that floats through Nico’s head as he watches the infirmary staff make trips to and from the Big House carrying box after box of replenishing supplies.

He sits by the hearth, absentmindedly dragging the tip of his sword through the dirt in lazy figure eights as he voyeurs.

Will pushes the door open with his foot and pauses to shift the position of the box in his arms. His face scrunches up in brief concentration and his shoulders and biceps flex beneath his Camp Half-Blood tank top, jostling the parcel into a more amicable position.

Nico tried to pull from his subconscious any recollection of what those arms felt like on the not insignificant amount of occasions where he was carried toward that very same building they were making deliveries to. Sadly, though, he came up only with dream-like imaginings. It was unfair, really, for the amount of passing out Nico had done in Will’s arms, that he couldn’t remember what they felt like wrapped around him, chords of muscles taught beneath freckled skin.

Once Will has a better grip, he steps farther out of the doorway and turns to hold the door open with his back, allowing Paolo to pass by carrying two much smaller boxes.

And considerate, Nico thinks.

His eyes follow the demigods as they make another trip down the steps of the Big House and across the courtyard to the wooden shack where Will and the other camp medics work. Nico can see Will’s calves peeking out beneath his eternal cargo shorts, tensed and defined with years of literally running around battlefields healing campers.

Will laughs at something Paolo says to him and Nico’s feels a fluttering in his chest.

Will has the most drop-dead gorgeous smile Nico’s ever seen…

“You’re staring.”

Nico almost jumps out of his skin, his grip on his sword tightening instinctively as his head snaps around to whomever had caught him.

Drew from cabin 10 was smirking at him with her arms crossed. His face burned.

“No judgement,�� she said, glancing up as the boys emerged once more from the infirmary, “Paolo looks hot with his hair up like that.”

Nico isn’t sure what to say, but words tumble out of his mouth regardless.

“I wasn’t staring at Paolo,” Nico half-confessed before he bit his own tongue, cutting himself off.

Drew looked back to him, and again smirked knowingly.

“I know,” she said.

Then, she simply turned and walked away again, swishing her hips the whole way she went.

Nico could still feel the heat in his face and he glared daggers into the ground where the impression of his blade had made a small gash in the dirt and in a small radius around it, surrounding greenery was not longer green.

Nico pulled his blade out and tried pushing some dirt into the hole with his foot. After what felt like a discreet enough amount of time, he allowed his gaze to wander back up. He saw Paolo making his way empty-handed to the infirmary and Will standing at the base of the stairs, a sagging plastic bag in each hand. He listened intently to Chiron, who’s equine lower half was tucked away into his wheelchair today as he sat at the top of the stairs on the porch.

The way Will was oriented, the sun that bled through the trees got caught in his hair, illuminating the blond curls so it appeared as though his face was framed in literal gold. Beads of sweat glistened on his bronze-colored shoulders and at the base of his neck, tanned beautifully by the summer rays.

Will finished his discussion with Chiron and was making a final trip back across the courtyard. He started whistling a tune as he walked, and it carried on the air, traveling farther than Nico thought was probably naturally possible, and ringing out clearly down the valley so that campers milling about slowed and relaxed as they listened to the melody.

Will was maybe the most effortlessly beautiful demigod at camp, Nico concluded with an involuntary sigh.

Will, with his calves like carved marble, lean, muscular arms peppered with freckles that seemed to multiply the longer the summer dragged on. His golden hair and his perpetual goofy grin and his laughing eyes, so blue you felt like you were falling into a cloudless sky.

Eyes that were looking directly at him.

Oh Styx, Nico thought, he’s looking right at me.

Nico’s posture straightened and he looked pointedly away from Will and very inconspicuously at the dining pavilion, then the sky, then the ground. His face burned as an embarrassed blush crept back up his cheeks.

…But even though he had just been caught so obviously gawking, he couldn’t help but chance one last look toward the boy.

Relief (and a twinge of something he couldn’t quite name) flooded Nico’s body when he saw Will was no longer looking at him, simply looking in the direction he was walking. Nico let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

Will arrived at the entrance to the wooden shack and, with no free hands, kicked the bottom of the door in a rhythmic knock. He stood for a few seconds longer before someone pushed the door open from the inside. Will caught the edge of the door with his ankle, exposed and prominently on display in his signature flip-flops, and pushed it fully open to head inside.

Not before, however, looking over his shoulder and locking eyes with the son of Hades.

Nico almost looked away, but he faltered when he saw the smile that broke out across his face. Like they were now both in on a shared secret. To cement the fact that he was now also staring, Will winked.

Nico felt like he was short circuiting, and he saw rather than heard Will laughing to himself, his shoulders bouncing gently before he disappeared into the building at last.

Oh my gods, Nico thought, Will Solace just saw me staring at him.

Then- almost laughing himself now,

And he stared back.

#solangelo #katealot writes #nico di angelo #will solace #might put this on ao3 if the reception is any good

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heychucklenuts · 5 months ago

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the mercs and miss Pauling on a undercover mission at a pizza place?

Miss Pauling and The Mercs Undercover at a Pizza Place

Totally did not register "pizza place" as Chuck E. Cheese no way no how. (Gonna use that for a post later though.)

The Administrator has growing suspicions that a pizza place in Teufort may be the front for an illegal Australium trade, or possibly they're hiding their own cache of the good stuff. Of course, she's not looking to rat anyone out to the police. No, she's looking to take the sweet, sweet Australium for herself. Which is when she calls on the help of Miss Pauling, telling her to gather the mercs, and to set up an undercover mission to steal the Australium back for her.

The mercs are divided into groups of two (with an exception), based on compatibility, all given some sort of a task within the pizza place. How well will this go?

Miss Pauling

The brains of the operation, having to come up with a discreet yet reasonable style of mission for the mercs, so nobody decides to end up making the "undercover" in the mission mean nothing. As for her role within the mission, she has to stay in the background, being the one to watch and make sure everything is going alright, having something set up so she can hear the others, and what they're saying, or even any intel they may pick up on. She doesn't stray too far, staying close by with her pistol and some body bags in case everything goes south. She keeps close tabs on Engineer and Spy, since the two of them have a much larger role in the mission. She keeps tabs on the rest of the mercenaries too, sometimes listening in to their own conversations, keeping mental notes on anything she may have to tell The Administrator. Her role becomes a bit more hands-on when she gets the okay from Spy, to "make a delivery" of ingredients to the place. It does entail actually hijacking and posing as a delivery person for the pizza place, and supplying ingredients, but the boxes don't leave empty. Anything made of Australium gets to go straight to The Administrator.

Scout and Sniper

Given that they're, according to The Administrator, "the most normal looking" of the mercs, they get to play as duds in the front of house. They're acting as a pair of college students wanting to grab a bite to eat, using that to pick up anything that they can from anyone who comes into the place, or anyone who looks vaguely suspicious as a whole. Scout of course tries to take this a step further in being a ladies man, going up to tables with hot babes and asking for their numbers, or asking what they're doing in town. While on one hand this somehow works for gathering intel, occasionally, it also turns into Scout's flirting hour, and hopefully the hour where he can get laid. Sniper has to act as the mediator to this, usually grabbing Scout and yanking him back to his seat before silently scolding him about being too flamboyant. (To which Scout pulls the whole, "Me? Flamboyant? Lookit me Snipes, I'm the complete opposite of that." Whilst showing off what he claims to be an outfit for the ladies.) Sniper has never had to work "undercover" per se, his job just requiring him to take the kill and get the hell out of dodge. So, while he may not exactly be the most used to this, he's not exactly complaining. All he has to do is blend in and not draw any attention to himself. Perfect, if he didn't have to work with Mr. Boston on this mission. He believes in discreetness, Scout believes in flashiness, both believing in opposite concepts to reach the same goal. Though the only okay thing about this may be getting a free meal, and getting to see Scout make an idiot out of himself.

Medic and Heavy

Similar role to Scout and Sniper, but this time they're posing as tourists new to Teufort. They get to be a bit more direct in getting intel, talking with people and with staff alike to find out whatever they can about the supposed Australium trade. So long as nobody brings up mini-guns or dead bodies, the two actually blend in quite nicely. Medic, being the more extroverted half, takes over for talking most of the time. He tries to play the story of being a German tourist fascinated by the states, and fascinated by the history of Teufort, and also fascinated by the (im)practical uses for Australium, trying to bring up how it can be used for huge medical breakthroughs and to further the human race, or that it can be used to make a spoon shiny. All of this to pry deeper into the heads of those whom he suspects may know about this little trade going on, trying to pry deeper and deeper, and perhaps trying to even get in on it. So it seems. Heavy passes himself off as a longtime friend of Medic's, an excuse that works quite well given the chemistry they already have with each other. While Medic is being the more jovial half, asking this or that, heavy puts up the front of small talk and casual conversation as a way to get the people they're talking to to better trust them, better let out any secrets. He's helping form a cat and mouse sort of game, if you will.

Soldier and Demoman

This unique pair gets an equally as unique job, getting to pose as new hires. Is this a good idea? Great question. But, given the two are supposedly new hires, maybe they could pass it off. Demoman just passes Soldier off as his lead-poisoned friend who'll get used to everything over time. Eventually though it gets to the point where Soldier gets more of the janitorial duties while Demoman got to work with the food and make pizzas. The both of them are there to talk to the employees, and get to know the place. Soldier ends up being a little more anal about how he conducts his discussions, usually demanding them to answer lest he threaten to smack them with the mop he's been using. While he's registered that they're on a mission, he still hasn't quite grasped the "undercover" side of it. Demoman acts as the middle ground, either trying to excuse Soldier's behavior, or do something to make him happy. (Such as promising him bacon if he can relax.) Wouldn't say he comes off more convincing, but he does come off a lot more personable in comparison to Soldier, being very friendly with the staff and trying to lighten things up a bit. And in the end also trying to make sure Soldier doesn't have a major slip, always trying to cover it up when he almost outs what they're doing.

Pyro, Engineer, and Spy

Unlike the rest, these three get to nest together as a trio, having the most important job: try to secure the goods, or figure out how the trade was occurring. The three nest in the lower levels of the pizza place, where the fridge and supply room are located, but unlike the others they aren't posing as anything but a threat. Pyro stays a little more up front, nowhere towards the dining room or the kitchen, but closer to the stairs leading down to the area. They're there in case anyone catches on, and in case someone needs to see the fun side of fire. They don't only stay by the stairs though, going back and forth between there and the other two to check in, and to make sure that everything's okay. They're the first defense. Engineer stays somewhere between the stairs and the room where the goods are supposedly stored in. He has a nest set up down there, a sentry in case anyone gets past Pyro, a dispenser to make sure everyone has enough ammo and that everyone's healed, and a teleporter leading the three of them outside. (If the mercs spot them outside, that's their cue to get out, and that something is wrong.) He's one of the two who keeps consistent communication with Miss Pauling, telling her if anything's wrong, or just giving her any updates. He also partakes in a couple beers from down there, nothing to get himself drunk obviously. Just a little somethin' somethin' for doing this. Finally there's Spy. He's closest to the objective, the final defense in case anything goes wrong. He's the other to keep consistent contact with Pauling, giving her cues for when it's safe for her to enter, or if she needs to wait a minute. He also occasionally will run upstairs and course the area, cloaked, to see if something's going bad with the plan. And if not, he'll return back to his position. In the end, him, Pyro, and Engineer, will help Miss Pauling when she arrives to "bring the supplies", swapping the food supplies with the goodies and the intel, before Spy will cloak again, and follow her out.

From there, Pyro and Engineer would use the teleporter to get out of the place. But, they wouldn't all pool out at once. You don't want to cause a commotion, after all. Well, you try not to. Engineer did have to self-destruct his buildings after all.

Scout and Sniper would leave first, sighting that they needed to "head back to campus", because they had "a class staring in the next half hour", and that they wanted to get back and get settled beforehand. They'd leave once Pauling and Spy have left, and after Engineer and Pyro had left.

Medic and Heavy would stay a little longer to talk with people, eventually excusing themselves to head out. Their excuse ends up being that they had an early morning to go visit the Poopy Joe memorial, so understandably they could leave with zero question. (This would be followed by the people they'd been talking to murmuring and weeping over the fallen American hero.)

The last to leave would be Soldier and Demoman, having completed their first days of work at the pizza place, so they wouldn't be leaving until much later. Though upon arriving back to the base, Miss Pauling would tell them they could've just quit, to which the pair would look at each other and shrug, claiming they didn't want to be disingenuous about working there. But in the end, the mission would prove itself to be successful, even with the infinite possibilities where it could've went wrong.

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vansshuu · 5 months ago

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I've been playing with Vash as a pc so I needed to draw it— I swear in my au Sydney doesn't have a lost brother out there, I swear HAHAHA

Yeah, her real hair color is something like strawberry blonde more on the pink side, like Pharmacist she dyes her hair because she learned that attracting attention is not the best thing haha

Maybe some interesting information

She is in the temple as a nun :)

Although he is part of the temple, he is quite discreet about it, but he wears a cross-shaped earring, although most of the time it is not noticeable because of his hair.

Her LI is Whitney! Although they usually fight with him and sometimes avoid him haha

It's not that she pretends to be a boy, she just likes covered clothes and that's it... Running and jumping from one side to another with a skirt is not very comfortable hehe (It's probably gender fluid)

He is embarrassed by his hair color... He is also embarrassed to look at people, he is a sullen cat but with a pretty appearance lol

If there are no longer medical supplies at school it is your fault HAHAHA

He tries very hard to get good grades, his reason is because he wants to study pharmacy. Motivation? Discreetly poison Bailey so he stops bothering you with your bullshit charges (and also because he wants money, shark mentality HSJAHS)

He tries to get Whitney to quit smoking, instead he gives her lollipops (although ironically she smokes too lmao)

Well that's all for now, too much text haha I have to go my planet needs me 🫡🫡

#dol pc #dol #dol fanart #degrees of lewdity pc #degrees of lewdity #whitney the bully #dol pcs #oc #original art #original character #digital art #doodle #design

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pearlypairings · 6 months ago

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I wish you’d write a fic where Trip finds out T’Pol is ticklish

your wish is my command! so much so, that I also posted this ficlet on ao3 as my first ever fic for Enterprise<3

trip x t'pol || fluff, humor, banter || ~1k wc

“You know, when I got the pitch to join Starfleet, I was promised unimaginable adventure, opportunity for technological innovation, a chance to advance mankind in the unchartered territory of space,” Trip lamented, shimmying his upper body to lay flat on his back. “No one mentioned the hours I’d spend trapped in a cargo box with our First Officer.”

T’Pol did not budge; she laid extremely still. In fact, if Trip’s eyes hadn’t adjusted from the past few hours of being held here in the pitch black, he would have been more concerned she’d passed out or fell into some weird Vulcan stasis. But he could see her chest inflate and shrink ever so slightly with what could be made out in the darkness of their snug crate.

They had been sent on an exploration mission for discreet observation only, no contact allowed with the vulnerable, primitive species on the newly discovered M-class Planet. But when their transport had been unintentionally found by the native humanoid species during a windstorm, they’d set it aflame along with most of their medical and survival supplies. Their comms were able to reach the Enterprise, but the transporter pads had already been halted for routine maintenance and would take hours to be put back online.

Instructed to hide safely away from the paranoid populace, Trip and T’pol followed orders and snuck into a storage lot, quickly picking an inconspicuous box to stow away in when the lot was inundated by workers. They had to wait inside, even after the area mostly cleared for midday meals, until their transporter pads or a rescue team would be dispatched. Armed with only phase pistols and communicators, they were hardly enjoying the hours cramped together without any breaks or provisions.

Trip tried to stretch his neck out, but the top of his head met resistance with the scrap wood surrounding them. A bead of disappointed sweat slipped down his spine. He sighed.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were dead. Anybody home?”

She stirred, just a little, near his left side. Her voice kept unusually quiet despite how close they were to each other.

“I would not call this a ‘home,’ Commander Tucker. I also find our predicament exceedingly unpleasant and am trying to meditate until we are free to return to Enterprise.”

“Meditate? Is that all you Vulcans do, meditate? Can you meditate this box to be bigger—because my legs….even my arms….are killin’ me.” Trip said with biting sarcasm, gradually uncurling his elbows maneuvering within the confines of their temporary prison.

“Vulcans do meditate regularly to control our emotions. Something you would likely greatly benefit from, it seems.” T’pol said coolly. “Here, allow me to move so you can have more space for your limbs and your untempered feelings.”

As the slender Vulcan acquiesced to her side allowing him to press his hands out and down, something peculiar happened. His fingers grazed T’pol’s side with the motion—they’d both moved simultaneously, getting in each other’s way as a result. Despite the heat and humid climate, her suit was fairly dry and cooler than his palm, a relief actually from the suffocating heat. Trip could feel the gentle curve of her rib, and for a moment, he wondered if Vulcan women had the same number of ribs as the human counterpart. His musing didn’t last long as his fingers found the dip of her waist and with it, a hard knee in his thigh and the galaxy’s tiniest squeak. Luckily, his pistol was hitched to his other side, outside of where T’pol could flinch into him.

“Commander, please remove your hand—” T’pol pressed out, squirming uncomfortably and still deeply puncturing his leg with her knee. She sucked in a deep breath. “My side is….sensitive. I am afraid I will hurt you or worse, ruin the mission by being located.”

His hand retreated with the bend of his elbow, letting the rough surface of the wood scratch at his skin. Trip’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you tellin’ me you’re ticklish?”

Her pinned effort to drill a hole into his leg relaxed with the absence of his stretch. T’pol shifted beside him to move onto her back once more, stiffening her arms across her chest.

“I am saying that sensation is extremely…discomforting.”

“I didn’t know Vulcans, with all their peace and control nonsense, could be tickled.” Trip said in awe. A chuckle tumbled out as he turned to face her and at the same time, allow more space for her.

“I assure you this is not typical.”

“Still, I’m keeping note of that for a later date.”

“Hmm,” she murmured. Even in the dark haze of their box, her profile looked pointed and pretty. There was no denying that.

“You know, I was thinkin’—”

Trip’s offer was cut off by the sound of his communicator's incoming signal beeping. Archer’s voice filled the hollow of their box.

“Commander Tucker, T’pol. We’re ready to extract you from the location designated by your communicators. Hold tight a little longer and we’ll have you back on board in no time.”

Trip clicked his receiver. “Message received, sir. Get the mess hall ready for us, ‘cause I’m starving.”

“I’ll turn that request into an order, Trip. See you sooner than later. Archer Out.”

T’pol turned back on her side, slowly this time to look at him. He could barely see the faint reflection of her eyes as she stared at him in the restored silence.

“If you make anyone aware on the Enterprise, Commander Tucker—” “Alright, alright. I know a threat when I hear one. I swear on my dear mother I won’t say a word to anyone else…..” He smirked. “For now. You’ll owe me one.”

#star trek enterprise #trip x t'pol #tripol #star trek fanfiction #fluff #cute banter

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n3on-graveston3s-calling · 10 months ago

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Soaked in Blood; Doused in Bleach

Word Count: 1,190

Characters: Eustass "Captain" Kidd, Killer

Warnings: Angst Time. MEDICAL trauma; wound cleaning ( nothing graphic ).

Author's Notes: Consider this a part two to Born To Break.

It happened quickly. One moment, he had been smarting off; his mouth had always been a touch too smart, a touch too full of heated words and anger that manifested with a bark that threatened that a bite was close behind. That had been his downfall, now that he thinks about it- being too full of himself, too prideful, too hotheaded in a way that a captain should never be.

Benn Beckman took his arm.

He shouldn’t have laughed when it happened; it hadn’t felt real at the moment. One moment, his arm was there, and the next? The next, it was on the ground at his feet. The bastard’s Haki, combined with a blast from that shotgun he carried like a damn club. He couldn’t recall clearly what happened next; Heat had begged- actually begged, something Heat was known to despise even considering- for them to spare his life. Killer had held him? Or had that been Wire? He wasn’t sure.

Staring at his reflection in the mirror felt like he was having an out of body experience. That had been nearly three weeks ago. The tavern they’d decided to hole up in was discreet enough; the lack of Marine presence was a blessing. They could buy the tavern keeps’ silence, could lay low, and wait for this to heal. Bubblegum had found a doctor- an actual doctor, not just Wire playing doctor with stitches and bottles of cheap liquor.

Of course, there was no way to save his arm. The cut had been clean enough; he’deen too drunk to remember that, too. Probably a blessing, now that he thought about it. It hurt now; the skin pulling and tugging in the worst way possible as it fought to mend itself, to pull back together and heal over. The stitches would remain for another week or two, depending on how well this all heals up.

Eustass Kid hated this.

The door to his room opened, and in popped Killer, followed by Wire. His personal nursing team, it seemed. “The fuck did you two run off to?” He grumbled, though a smile tugged at his lips as the door closed behind Killer.

“Supply run. Found a store down the way that was sellin’ some dried goods.” Wire explained, setting down a small package of dried meat. Deer jerky. Deer? They had deer on this island? Shit, that was almost reminiscent of home. “And some more bandages.”

“Can I?” Killer asked, hands hovering, meeting his gaze through the holes in the helmet. The helmet he’d made him, years ago.

A grimace contorts his features, but he nods. “‘S time for new ones, anyway.” A roll of the shoulders has pain radiating from his arm, enough that a wheeze of pain slips free from unpainted lips. Shifting forward to the edge of the bed, he stares at his reflection in the vanity mirror across from him. Killer sits after having washed his hands, and carefully unwraps the bandage. Over and over, around and around. They essentially trapped his arm against his ribs to avoid it from moving too much. Killer’s hands were warm, gentle despite the danger they normally pose, despite the chaos and carnage they could cause. He’d seen those hands at work; had watched him kill with them as if it was nothing.

And now, he was touching him as if he were about to shatter into a thousand porcelain shards.

Garnet gaze tracks up, meets Wire’s umber gaze, watches him watch Killer. His gaze darkens as the final layer falls away; Kidd hisses once more as the cool air of the room hits the angered flesh. He doesn’t look; something about looking at it makes his stomach twist in ways that threaten to expel anything he’d managed to eat. So he watches his friend.

“It’s looking good,” Killer murmurs; at some point, he’d removed his helmet. Kidd looks to the ground where it sits; he can see the stump in his peripheral, and ignores it. If he ignores it, it will go away; that’s what he used to think when he was younger. If you ignore something, it will leave. That was bullshit. It won’t leave, it’s part of you now. “Skin’s healing well. Can I clean it?”

His stomach flipped. “Yeah,” he bit out, drawing in a slow breath to quell the nausea that threatened to make itself at home once more. He’d just managed to keep breakfast and lunch down, don’t ruin it. “Thank ye,” Eustass murmurs, and Killer nods. He glances over, studies him now. Killer had always had pretty hair. Golden in color and thick. It was curlier when they were kids.

Killer frowns as he dampens the cloth with isopropyl alcohol; it’ll sting like a bitch, but that’s what they had to work with, now. The wound itself was healing well; the skin pulling together nicely. It wouldn’t be an ugly scar, not compared to some that he’d seen- and caused- over the years. He could still feel the way Kid had slumped hard against him after the adrenaline had fled his system, after Shanks and Benn and those damned pirates had left.

The amount of blood loss had been terrifying. Killer quickly shoves that image out of his mind.

“Shit hurts,” Eustass groaned, eyes squeezing shut. His hand curled into a fist against the bed- and after a moment, Wire reached over, carefully opening his fist to replace the blankets with his own hand. Eustass gripped it, used the feeling of holding his hand to ground himself. Breathe, he needed to breathe. Raw nerves were a bitch to deal with, it seemed. “I have… An idea.”

“What is it?” Killer asked softly, leaning down to study the way the sutures curved. The doctor really did know what he was doing. Good.

“Gonna make myself an arm.”

“Are ye?” Wire mused softly; his fingers stretched down, index and middle settling over Eustass’ pulse point in his wrist. One, two, three, four…

“I think I can figure a way to make it work. Give myself an arm, again.”

“With your Devil Fruit?”

“Partly, yeah.”

Killer hummed, nodding slowly as he sat up. He tossed the rag aside; stained pink with old blood that still oozed when Kid was too rough with himself. “Whatever you need,” he rose to his feet to grab the fresh bandages. Gauze that wouldn’t stick against the nub; a roll of cloth to secure it in place. “We’ll help you.”

“You fuckin’ better,” his eyes rolled; Kid grinned over at Wire, who shook his head, though a fond expression had colored his features. “This ain’t gonna keep me down. We got places to go.”

“Give it another week, please.” Killer sighed, leaning close to wrap the bandages.

“... Fine.” Kid met his own gaze in the mirror once more, watching as the flesh was covered. He would make himself a new arm. It would be difficult; he’d need Wire’s help, but it would happen.

And then? Then, he’d find Red Haired Shanks and his stupid little First Mate, and return the favor twice fold.

#one piece #eustass captain kidd #massacre soldier killer #wire one piece #kidd pirates #kidkiller #writing's of a mad author (fanfiction)

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isa-beenme · 1 year ago

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Hi! this is my first time asking but maybe you could do a co-workers and a one night stand for the Acotar bingo with azzy?? like they are both spies for rhys and something happens on a mission orrrr…. idk fluff please :))))

feel free to ignore - i love ur work btw <33

Oh my dear I definitely can

Thanks so much for the reassurance, I'm a people pleaser KEEP COMMENTING COMMENTS THEY ARE MY BIGGEST FUEELLLLLL

Me writing a normal fanfic: 😃

Me 5 seconds after I start creating a whole trauma, past story and a lot of facts that are not exactly necessary to the story: 🥰😍🤩😚💕💖💟💞🤗✨️

When I was writing this I thought: Omg maybe I'm finally ready to write smut (I'm not, the need completely disappeared from me the moment I opened the document)

Pillowtalk

As you and Azriel prepare for yet another mission together to watch the suspect camplords in the Illyrian mountains, you go over your plans meticulously, ensuring you are ready for whatever challenges lie ahead. You and Azriel have created a unique bond over the years, having worked together on numerous missions for the High Lord. Both of you knew how to work together and where your boundaries were laid. It was precisely that that made working with him so easy, no matter the amount of time you spent together, he never ever asked you to take off the mask that usually covered your face.

The journey to the Illyrian mountains is always filled with tension since you know how much Azriel hates his old home. You know you must be discreet to avoid detection. You and Azriel move silently, utilizing your stealth and his powers to blend into the shadows. You keep your senses sharp, alert to any potential danger.

However, even the most carefully laid plans can go awry. During your surveillance, you encounter an unexpected group of hostile Illyrian males who happened to be patrolling in that area. Azriel fights valiantly, but he is fighting against five of the seven that attacked you, and even if he defeats three of them, the other two remaining aim for his wings and cause a serious injury during the wings' leather, leaving him vulnerable and unable to defend himself adequately.

In a split second, you take your decision, and you know you must act swiftly to protect your partner. Without hesitation, you remove your mask, it helps you to maintain silence and prevents the enemies from hearing your breathing. But right now it is only making it difficult for vision to be clear, the fighting usually being Azriel's work.

As you take off the mask it reveals the burn mark that runs from your neck to a portion of your face. It serves as a reminder of a past event that you try to keep hidden from prying eyes. Also, it would work as an easy way for your enemies to recognize you anywhere you went. Even if they didn't remember your face, they would remember the scars, this being the only reason to keep your face a mystery during your missions.

Despite your reservations, you know very well that your identity is a small price to pay to save Azriel. Drawing upon all your strength, you fiercely fight off your remaining attackers, using your skills to ensure you both survive the ordeal.

After the dust settles and the danger has passed, Azriel looks at you with a mixture of awe and concern. He finally sees the face that you had kept concealed for so long. His gaze lingers on the burn mark, but he doesn't pry or ask questions. He knows that you have your reasons for keeping your identity a secret, and he respects your privacy in everything.

You quickly winnow yourself and him to a nearby cabin, paying an offensive amount of gold to the keeper for her to remain silent about your state there. She only nods once and takes you to the main room, running to take medical supplies for your partner.

-Do you need help? - She asks softly, but you can see her nervousness as she looks at the blood.

-No, I can take it from here. Thank you for everything - You dismiss her and she happily gets out of the room and closes the door behind her, leaving you to take care of Azriel's wings, which are already closing their wounds.

As Azriel recovers from his injuries, you stay by his side, tending to his wounds with care and cleaning them at one time or another. As you spend time together during his recuperation, he senses there is more to your burn mark than meets the eye. You can sense his eyes floating to your neck sometimes, but you let him be fully healed before saying anything.

-You know you can just ask, right? - You say as Azriel sits beside you as you look out the window.

-I hope I'm not prying or making you uncomfortable, but I couldn't help but notice your burn mark. It must have been a difficult experience - You take a deep breath, your fingers tracing the edge of the scar absentmindedly - You don't have to share if you don't want to-

-Yes, it was - You replied, your voice carrying a mix of pain and vulnerability - My parents... they weren't the kindest people. They made it clear that they didn't want me and that I was a burden to them - You notice Azriel tracing his own scars, you didn't even notice the moment he took off his gloves.

-I'm so sorry you had to go through that - He says sincerely, a mixture of sympathy and understanding in his eyes.

-When I was young, I believed that if I stayed close to them or if I tried harder, they might change their minds, and start loving me or something. But one day... One day, I was talking to my mother while she was cooking. I didn't realize I was annoying her until she got angry. The next thing I knew, the hot oil spilled on me, and she didn't even try to help, not her, not my father. I was left with this scar after that - You took a deep breath as you felt Azriel's gentle touch tracing the contours of the burn in your neck, a silent gesture of support as he listened intently - I was probably six, maybe seven. It didn't take me long to run away until I found a mercenary. He took me in and trained me. I was supposed to be a mercenary too if Rhysand didn't find me. He hired me after some time and gave my tutor a place to live in Velaris. That's my sad story - You said with a dry laugh, trying to keep the tears that threatened to escape from your eyes. Azriel's heart aches for the pain you endured, and he reaches out to gently touch your face, mirroring the care you showed him during his recovery.

-You are incredibly strong - He says sincerely - To survive such a difficult past and become the person you are now, it takes immense courage.

-And what about yours? We are basically burn buddies - He laughs at that, supporting his back on the window, looking deeply at you as you take his hand from your face and start to trace them - You don't have to tell me if you're not ready, too.

-No, I want to tell you - He replies, his voice steady - You've shared your pain with me, and it's only fair that I do the same. I was the bastard son of an Illyrian lord. For eleven years, I lived with my father, stepmother, and two older half-brothers. They were cruel and treated me like an outcast. They kept me in a cell with no windows or light, letting me out only for an hour a day to see my mother. I was forbidden to train or fly, even though my Illyrian instincts urged me to do so.

You bring your hand up to his arm, bringing him closer to your body as you circle him in a hug, feeling the tension disappearing from his body as he is visibly relaxed in your arms, embracing the warmth and comfort.

-One day, my half-brothers thought it would be fun to see what would happen if they mixed an Illyrian's quick healing gifts with fire. They poured oil on my hands and lit them on fire - Your eyes widened in surprise, not in a million years you would have imagined his story to be like this - The warriors heard my screams and rescued me, but it was too late to save my hands. I was left with these scars, a constant reminder of the cruelty I endured.

-I hope they are all dead - You said suddenly, your voice mixed with a tone you reserve for the ones you torture in the prison.

-One of them. And no, I won't tell you who they are just for you to kill them - He laughs when you ruff in annoyance - If so you would have to tell me who are your parents, so we can have a tie.

-Really? I would gladly do so - He laughs once again, the sound making your heart flutter in happiness. He takes a moment to compose himself before speaking again.

-At eleven, I was dumped in the Illyrian training camp, Windhaven, where I wasn't exactly well received due to my shadowsinging gifts. That's where I met Rhysand and Cassian. Rhysand's mother took me in, just as she did for Cassian. And when Rhysand became the High Lord of the Night Court, I became his spymaster, part of the Inner Circle.

-I'm so sorry for what you went through. But know that you are not defined by your past, it was a lesson it took me some time to understand. You are strong, compassionate, and resilient, a testament to the person you've become. And your scars, just like mine, tell a story of resilience and survival. We should be proud of the people we've become despite our pasts.

-Yes, we should. And I couldn't be prouder of what we've become - He gets out of your embrace, taking your hand in his, reveling in the feel.

-You're right. We make a great team, burn buddies, if so - You hear a chuckle and let your own laugh fill the room - I'm grateful for every mission we've shared, you know.

-I'm grateful too, more than words can say. You've shown me kindness, trust, and loyalty. You've helped me heal in ways I didn't think were possible - Azriel's other hand moved from his side to cup your cheek tenderly, his thumb brushing away a stray tear.

-And you've done the same for me. Your strength and understanding have been my anchor through it all - At that moment, you felt an unspoken connection that went beyond your shared experiences as spies. It was a bond forged through trust, support, and compassion.

As you trace gentle patterns on Azriel's hand, he gazes at you with affection and admiration. He can't help but be captivated by your strength and resilience, your ability to face your past head-on and still maintain a kind and caring heart. Something he couldn't do. His past hunted him as a monster, the shame he felt on his hands growing every time he looked at them. But you?

-You're incredible - He whispers, his voice barely above a breath. You looked up at him, shocked by his sudden words, but your eyes were shimmering with gratitude.

-And you're just as incredible - You reply with a smile playing on your lips - I always admired you. It was nice knowing you always chose me to go with you, it's also nice spending time with you.

-I always chose you because we make a great duo - You murmur "burn buddies" again, but he doesn't laugh this time, his eyes still admiring you. He turns his hand and entangles it with your - You're beautiful. You always told me that, and now I can say it back.

At that moment, the air around you feels charged with an undeniable attraction. You both sense it, the magnetic pull that draws you closer. Without another word, Azriel leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss. Your lips move together in a dance of longing and desire, your emotions pouring into the embrace. The weight of your shared experiences, the understanding of each other's pain, and the warmth of your feelings culminate in this moment.

The kiss deepens, and you lose yourselves in each other, forgetting the world outside as you explore the depths of your needs. Azriel's hand gently cradles your face, his thumb caressing your scarred cheek, while your fingers find their way into his hair, pulling him closer.

Your bodies move closer in the window seat, the space between you disappearing as you seek comfort and intimacy in each other's arms. The tension that had been building between you for years finds its release, and you become lost in the sensation of being with someone who understands you on a level you never thought possible.

As you pull away, your breaths mingling, you meet each other's eyes, the intensity of the moment shining brightly. Without words, you share an unspoken understanding as he starts undoing the stripes and buttons of your armor and you start to take off the layers of his. Your lips connect again as he pulls you to his lap and walks you towards the bed, taking off the rest of your clothes as well as his.

Your heated make-out session evolves into a night filled with passion while you share your bodies, as you find the solace and belonging you've been searching for, a love that heals your wounds and ignites a fire within your hearts. When he looked at the rest of your scars, that went down until your shoulder and took a bit of your collarbone his eyes became feral with lust. From the moment he bent down and kissed each piece of skin that was covered with burn wounds, you knew that you are completely fucked.

After your initial heated encounter, you and Azriel decide that your night together was a product of vulnerability and a need for comfort in the moment. You both acknowledge the dangers of getting involved romantically, especially as spies working in a world filled with secrets and risks.

-We can't afford distractions - Azriel had once said, his voice tinged with concern - Our focus needs to be on the missions and keeping each other safe.

-You're right. We can't let our emotions get in the way of what we do - In that moment you had nodded in agreement, understanding the practicality of his words.

Both of you agree to keep your relationship strictly professional, even though your hearts yearn for more. However, as the days pass, you find it increasingly challenging to resist the pull you feel toward each other. Your missions become more dangerous, and the stakes are higher than ever. During chaos and uncertainty, you find comfort and solace in each other's arms.

It starts with small moments, a touch on the arm here, a lingering glance there. You become each other's safe haven, the one constant in a world filled with unpredictability. And despite your resolve, once you go back to your normal life in Velaris, you find yourselves in each other's bed again, seeking solace in the connection you share. The passion and intimacy between you intensifies with each encounter, and you start to realize that they can't deny the love that has grown between you.

As the days turn into weeks, you find yourselves entangled in each other more times than you could count, each encounter pulling you closer together. You've become inseparable in your free time, if it's you in his studio while he practices his painting, or if it's him in your house while you practice dancing, your lives become intertwined both on and off the field.

The morning sun gently filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room as Azriel stirs awake. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, he finds himself lying beside you in your room once again, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

He traces his fingers gently along the curves of your body, admiring the lines that define your form. The faint light reveals the outline of your burn mark, a testament to your strength and resilience. Azriel's heart swells with affection for you, knowing the hardships you have endured and the courage you carry within.

As his fingers gently explore, you stir from your slumber, your eyes slowly opening to meet his gaze. You see the adoration in his eyes and the reverence with which he touches you. A blush tinges on your cheeks, but you don't look away, instead, you pull him closer, wanting to feel his touch even more.

-You're awake - You murmur, your voice soft but still rough from the slumber. Azriel leans in, his lips brushing against your forehead before he meets your eyes again.

-Yes, I am. And I can't help but marvel at the sight before me - Your heart flutters at his words, and you intertwine your fingers with him, pulling his hand to your lips to leave a tender kiss.

-You have a way with words, Shadowsinger. But actions speak louder - With a soft chuckle, Azriel leans in, capturing your lips in a deep and loving kiss. Your mouths move in perfect harmony, conveying all the unspoken emotions between you. When you finally break apart, your foreheads rest gently against each other's, your breaths mingling.

-I never expected this - You admit, your voice tinged with wonder - But I'm grateful for every moment we shared.

-As am I. You've brought light into my life, and I can't imagine a future without you - You stay entwined, basking in each other's presence, knowing that you've found something rare and precious.

-What if we sleep in today? I don't think we need to get out of bed - He laughs and leans closer to you, the skin contact makes you shiver - I don't know, it's cold today, maybe we can help each other and warm ourselves up.

-I don't think Rhysand will appreciate it if his two best spies disappeared from his view - But he doesn't make a movement to get out of bed, instead, he starts kissing the back of your neck, slowly going under the covers. That way you know you win the discussion, the same way you did many times before.

Every time you find yourself in Azriel's arms, you feel like you can face the world, one day at a time, knowing that you have his heart to hold onto and a love that burns brighter than any shadow you've ever known. Years of shared missions, trust, and understanding have led you to this moment of realization. You are not just good together as partners, but you have discovered a deeper connection, a love born from empathy and shared experiences.

-Thank you - He comes up suddenly, interrupting his path to your legs - For being here, for understanding - With a soft smile, Azriel brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his voice tender as he speaks - I think we've found something extraordinary in each other.

-I believe you're right, shadow boy - You reply, before the smile completely disappears from your face - But this is not time to be sentimental. First, you eat your snack, and then we can talk about how much we love each other - You push his head under the covers again, hearing his laugh before his mouth finds its way to you.

That stupid promise of a one-time thing was nothing more than a futile attempt to deny the love that had grown between you. You couldn't fight it any longer, your hearts made the decision for yourselves a long time ago. You were partners - mates - in every sense of the word, bound not just by the missions, but by a love that has proven to be stronger than any obstacle in your path.

#spotify #acotar #azriel × reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel/reader #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader

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badsansandstarsansticklestuff · 1 year ago

Text

I am surprisingly still not dead

Undertale AU tickle fic

Characters: Horror x Dust (ship)

Context: Dust has been saying terrible puns all day and Horror is tired

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The day has been long, Horror and Dust were both sent on a mission to gather food and medical supplies, Killer couldn't come with them as he was still hurt from the previous mission, hence the need for medical supplies. They needed to be quiet and discreet, they didn't want the Star Sanses to show up, they were only two and they really didn't need anyone else to be hurt.

But the problem was.. Dust was feeling chatty this day, in a mood for puns, which really didn't help Horror concentrate. He would make jokes and puns all day, they almost got caught because of him ! It was a miracle when they came back in the castle without fighting. Horror was pissed.

- Boss, we have what you asked for.

- Good, thank you Horror. You can put it on the table I'll take care of the rest.

Horror gave the supplies to his superior and left, not wanting to bother him as he was healing his co-worker. He went straight to his room, needing some well-earned rest. He landed flat on his bed.

- Hey Horror I got a new joke for you, you're gonna like it !

Said an eager Dust as he walked in his co-worker's room. Horror sighed in frustration, couldn't he be alone juste one minute ?

He watched as Dust closed the door behind him and went closer to the bed.

- Okay so it goes-

He was cut in his sentence as two strong arms pulled him against Horror's chest.

- H-Horror ?

As previously stated, Horror was pissed and tired.

- You want to laugh, huh ? That's what you want ? Fine, I'll give you something to laugh at !

Dust was suddenly very nervous as he tried to escape the bigger's grip but damn, Horror was really strong !

- C-can we talk about it ?

- I don't think so, no.

Dust had a very bad feeling when he felt Horror's hands on his ribcage, and that feeling got confirmed when these same hands started squeezing his ribs, sending him into a pit of laughter. Dust always put on a tough appearance under his hood, like nothing could get a reaction out of him, but the truth was very humiliating: to get any reaction you simply had to tickle him a little, because under all these layers Dust was actually pretty ticklish... and Horror knew that very well.

- W-WAHAIT !

But Horror didn't wait, he was mad and wouldn't stop until he was satisfied. He kept squeezing and scratching his victim's poor ribs as he was trying to escape, kicking his legs to no avail and trying to grab his tormentor's hands.

- The more you move the longer it will last.

Dust flinched at these words and immediately tried not to move, but it was hard, very hard, as he really wanted to escape this torture. His legs were shaking as he tried to hold them in place, trying not to move his arms either, his hands firmly gripped on Horror's arms. His face was a bright purple, he hated being tickled, he hated how vulnerable it made him, how he was reduced to a laughing mess, unable to defend himself or even use his magic properly. But it was Horror, and he did have a pretty massive crush on him, so maybe this proximity wasn't that bad, maybe he could handle it a little if it meant being against his chest...

But it was still torture, and even more when Horror lowered his hands to attack his sides, making him arch his back so violently that he was pretty sure he heard a crack.

- YOHOHOHUHU SAID YOUHUHUHU'LL STOHOHOHOP !!

Dust screamed.

- I said it would be longer if you moved, I didn't say I would stop.

Dust blushed more, if it was possible, very embarrassed by the whole situation. He felt tears starting to form in his eye sockets and soon running down his cheeks. He couldn't take it anymore, it was way to much for him to handle.

- PLEHEHEHAHAHSE STOHOHOHOHOP !!

He was reduced to begging. What a shame.

- Only if you promise to stop with your puns for today and let me sleep.

Dust quickly nodded his head.

- I PROHOMIHIHIHISE !

Horror pretended to think for a moment, just to tease Dust a little, then finally stopped his assault on the poor skeleton's belly, letting him catch his breath.

Dust was exhausted, this tickle session sucked out all of his energy. Horror let him go to lay down on his bed again, closing his eyes, hoping not to be interrupted again. He opened his eyes again when he felt a hand pushing his shoulder.

- What ? You want more ?

He asked looking at Dust, who was blushing.

- Can-can I sleep with you.. ?

Horror arched an eyebrow before shrugging and moving to the side to make enough space for Dust.

- Don't make any noise.

- Y-yeah...

He didn't plan on making any noise, he had been tickled enough for at least three month. He laid down next to the bigger skeleton, still blushing a little, and closed his eyes, soon drifting into a peaceful sleep, rapidly imitated by Horror...

- end -

#don't want to see my post ? block me !#undertale au tickle #undertale tickle fic #undertale tickle #tickle fic #tickle fanfic #tickle #horror sans #dust sans #horrordust #horror x dust #dust x horror #ticklish dust sans

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grimalkinmessor · 1 year ago

Note

Thinking about your Hanahaki AU again, with Light this time. He'd definitely rip the flowers out. If he could.

Because, does removing Hanahaki flowers require surgery in this AU? How much does it cost? Can Light even admit himself and get surgery in the middle of the Kira case? Without anyone noticing? How would he even explain to Soichiro or Sachiko that this is why he needs the flowers out?

Plus, as you've said, would L notice? It's very, very likely L would. And he won't let Kira remove those flowers. Afterall, Kira being in love with L would be a very interesting development. How far would Kira go for someone he loves when he can't rid himself of his feelings nor live with those feelings unrequited?

This seems to be a very, very, very bad ending for Light. Unless somehow L ends up falling for Light while trying to stop him from getting Hanahaki flowers removed...

What do you think? How does Light having Hanahaki go in your AU?

I'VE ACTUALLY THOUGHT ABOUT THIS SO UNHINGEDLY THAT I'VE GONE A BIT INSANE BARE WITH ME

So, to address your first question; yes, Light absolutely rips them out :3 You're right that he can't get surgery during the middle of the Kira case because it would bring too much attention to him, AND the fact that yes, the surgery is incredibly expensive and he wouldn't be able to pay for it on his own even if he could find a clinic discreet enough that L couldn't find it. Buuut that doesn't mean that he can't remove them himself! :D

Light is a boy that jerry-rigged a bomb into his desk with shit that he bought at the corner store in an abandoned building with little to no tools—he would absolutely consider it within his abilities to give himself surgery. And he's correct! It would be incredibly dangerous, but for Light everything he does seems to be a Morton's Fork, even if he doesn't see it that way.

I imagine him visiting his school nurse to yoink some medical supplies, finding a way to recirculate his blood as soon as he loses it (possibly by jerry-rigging some other machine to suck the blood up out of any openings he made back into a tube that cycles it right back into his arm veins—idk how that would WORK but Light would find a way I promise you), and then sitting in front of his bedroom mirror to split his chest open while Ryuk watches his lifespan to make sure he's not gonna die.

But the kicker here is this; Light would have to do this multiple times. Because he has to leave the roots of the flowers in or he loses his memory of L, and just like L, he can't afford to lose valuable insight on his opponent in the middle of the game. So once every month (or twice depending how often he sees L) Light cuts himself open and clears out the foliage in his lungs! :D Yes it would be incredibly painful and incredibly tedious and incredibly dangerous, but Light would still do it, because by this point he thinks he can't afford to do anything else. Kira comes before L, yes, but Light's continued existence (with his mental image intact) comes before Kira. Which, ironically, now necessitates continuing to be Kira, even against his own heart's desires.

Despite his ego, Light doesn't actually do many things for personal gain—if he can't convince himself that something would ultimately have an altruistic purpose (and yes furthering Kira's goals does count as an altruistic purpose because Light sees Kira, himself, as altruistic by nature) and it comes at any sort of cost, then he convinces himself he doesn't want it. Being in love with L would be one of those things he denies viciously ✨ He'll say it's obsession, equality, understanding rather than love or affection, because Light has never felt deep respect or affection for anyone other than his family and obviously the Hanahaki has just mistaken his respect for love. Obviously.

Confessing isn't an option. Light would sooner leap in front of a speeding train than confess (in either circumstance of confession in this case). He doesn't even believe he's in actual love with L so he sees it as a moot point. Making L fall in love with him also isn't an option for similar reasons.

If we go the route where L doesn't discover that Light has Hanahaki or at least he discovers it too late, then it wouldn't differ very much from canon. The only difference would be that Light, until the day he dies, would carry around physical proof of his love for L. And the knowledge that it wasn't enough for Light to spare him :') Which would then feed further in to Light's idea that it wasn't REAL love, merely a facsimile of it 💔 Nothing else changes.

BUT—as for L finding out... Well, here's the thing. He would either need to find out before Light's confinement, or after they catch Higuchi. Because during that period where Light loses his memory of being Kira? His Hanahaki goes away :) Yotsuba Arc Light loses his feelings for L because most of the reasons Light loved him before have abruptly become the very same reasons Light hates him as soon as he forgets he's Kira :)

So if L finds out, it's either early enough that he can swap plans entirely (if he wished to), or late enough that he'd have to haul ass to convince Light not to kill him, either by attempting to fall in love with Light or proving him as Kira or somehow, by some miracle of manipulation and seduction and conversation, convince Light to change his mind. BUT—but but but—the sticking point here is that L is not in love with Light. (I don't see Light as the type to feel "unloved" so we're going the Hanahaki Is Omniscient To People's Feelings route instead of it being psychological). And any plans he would make in response to Light's Hanahaki would be dependant on several factors, including but not limited to the strength of his desire to live, the strength of his desire to win, the fact that Light is intellectual equal, the fact that despite Light being his intellectual equal they have very different moral codes and societal views, the pros of keeping Light alive, the cons of keeping Light alive, lust even (if there is any), etc. etc. But not love. You'd have to account for the fact that Light surviving the Hanahaki is not L's top priority. It might not even be high priority. Though I think you're right in that L would make sure Light couldn't get rid of it—he'd find it too interesting see it as too much of a boon to lose. Plus I very much see him as a vindictive little shit, just like Light 💕

So really it's up to how you think L would react! What you think is important to him, what you think his thought processes are, and honestly when you decide that he finds out. Those are all factors in L's decision making process that have to be considered—which is why I don't write from L's pov very often :,D

#asks #anonymous #lawlight #hanahaki #death note #yagami light #l lawliet

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teecupangel · 2 years ago

Note

As I near the end of Syndicate, I am reminded about our exchange about Starrick. So here goes: Desmond is not... As "lucky" as he usually is in our post-Temple scenarios. Instead of waking up somewhere discreet, he is thrown, unconscious, somewhere where Lucy Thorne takes notice. And so, Desmond is brought to Starrick's attention. When he wakes up, he is in a nice bed, in refined looking manor. And so begins Starrick's play at being the good guy 1/2

2/2 Desmond is taken care of. His Hidden Blade is not taken away - on the contrary, when he asks about the things that were found with him, Desmond is given them all back. He gets some good medical care. The manor servants are complimentary about their boss. And then - when Desmond eventually starts snooping and venturing out... The information he has waved his way about the Rooks is not complimentary. And so... He slowly starts leaning to Starrick's opinions.

Okay, okay, this works sooo well with our previous idea of how easy would it be for Desmond to be a Templar but before we continue: this is not meant to be Frye twin-bashing. This is more on the side of "when looked from the outside without any ideas of who the Frye twins are and what they're going thru, it's really easy to paint them in a very bad light" and we're going to make use of that.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, it is soooo easy for Starrick to pit Desmond against the Frye twins, especially if we set this after Jacob assassinates Twopenny which later led to inflation and riots.

Maybe Desmond even sees Starrick talking about how he raised the salary of his employees and how he would have supported all of London if he could (again, let’s remember that in canon, Starrick said this to Brudenell alone without any audience presence so this isn’t Starrick trying to get into Desmond’s good sides even if he knew Desmond was snooping around, this is Starrick being Starrick). Without the proper context that Desmond wouldn’t exactly have at the moment, Starrick and Brudenell’s conversation (including Starrick threatening to castrate Brudenell) could be taken as a powerful man chained by politics and selfish politicians.

I mean…

Just read the transcript and see how easy it is for Starrick to pain the Disraeli and even Brudenell in a bad light:

Cardigan: The currency a laughing stock. Inflation out of control! Twopenny brutally murdered! Starrick: And yet, Parliament does nothing! Cardigan: The bill will be defeated, sir. That buffoon Disraeli shall be taken care of. It has been arranged, upon my honor. Starrick: Your honor carries little weight. Cardigan: How dare you, sir?! Starrick: The poor people of this city have suffered enough. Today, I granted a significant rise to my staff in order to counter inflation. Cardigan: What? Starrick: I would supply all of London if I could. Starrick: Meanwhile, you sit in your club and wax poetic with promises your honor cannot pay. Your family's fortune, however... I wonder what they would offer to keep your record out of the newspapers. About the same as Disraeli would offer for your balls, I'd wager. But let's be generous. Why limit ourselves to one or the other, when we can have it all? What say you, sir, shall I come collect? Starrick: No more dallying. The halls of Parliament must be free to govern, again! Understood? You may see yourself out.

And Starrick would be polite to him, wouldn’t pry him of his past. Even Lucy Thorne would be polite (when she was still alive), most probably ordered to.

And then Starrick would ask the question all of the Templars had been curious about.

“Are you, perhaps, a member of House Kenway, Desmond?”

And that’s how Desmond would find out that Starrick and the others thought he was perhaps a descendant of Haytham Kenway or maybe even Jennifer Scott.

“And what if I am?” Desmond asked back, wondering if they would talk about how Ratonhnhaké:ton and his descendants were Assassins.

“We owe a lot to the Kenway family.” Starrick explained calmly, “Even if you…”

Starrick glanced at Desmond’s left arm… no… he had glanced at Desmond’s hidden blade.

“… you do not hold the same ideology as we do, we will still give you the respect a member of House Kenway deserves.”

Desmond watched as Starrick placed a key on the table between them, “This is the only copy we have of the Kenway manor. It is only right that it is returned to a member of the family, wouldn’t you agree?”

Desmond kept his attention on Starrick as he took the key. Starrick sighed as he added, “It is my duty to inform you that it has been… well… it’s not in its best condition right now.”

“A few intruders did not have any manners.” Starrick said vaguely, “And left quite… a trail.”

And what trail did Desmond find in the Kenway mansion?

The trails left by Evie and Jayadeep.

And you might be thinking “What about Lucy Thorne and her goons?”

Well…

It was a stealth mission which meant that there was a high possibility that Evie and Jayadeep kept the body count to a minimum and we have a cutscene confirmation that some of them were wearing Blighters outfit. (although the ones you see in the manor itself had Templar armbands and those are the ones Evie can take down)

… So… what’s to say that Desmond’s tracking wouldn’t lead to a few ex-Blighters now wearing the coat of a Rook?

Jacob’s Rooks do have ex-Blighters in their ranks so it’s possible that some of the Blighters in that cutscene became Rooks later on.

And then…

He is told by one of Starrick’s men how the Assassin Jacob Frye joined the crime boss Maxwell Roth in burning down warehouses that had children inside.

And Desmond realized…

The Assassins here in London must be stopped.

#i wouldn’t say desmond is a templar in this one #more like…#a rogue assassin hunter?#like if shay remained an assassin while hunting his fellow asssassins and having an amicable relationship with the templars without joining #i guess #ask and answer #ngl starrick is one of my most favorite templars #he’s just a fun character for me #assassin's creed #desmond miles #crawford starrick #do i want to tag the frye twins?#naaaahhh #just to be safe #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed

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eddiepumpkinpup · 4 months ago

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Thinking about telling my partners that I want padding (diapers) ;~;

Soooooooo I've liked wearing diaps since before I started regressing (since I can remember, actually) For me, they are a source of physical and emotional comfort and security and I think this stems from the sensory issues I face as an autistic individual.

Idk if this constitutes a NEED for diapers as opposed to a WANT, but I'm considering trying them again as I haven't in a long time...

They also make me feel more baby whenever I regress, especially if they have cute printed designs and are cloth-backed :3 What I'm saying is that I would like some to wear when I'm regressed and sometimes under clothes (obviously) for every-day use.

My partner, 🦡, was not accepting at all of me wearing them the last few times I've brought it up to him... I'll admit, sometimes the urge to be in them has influenced me to buy/wear them in secret around him, but it felt wrong to hide them from him even if they did comfort me somewhat. I'm not exactly ashamed of wanting to wear them, but I did feel as though I was breaking our trust by not being transparent with him.

The progress I've made with getting him to accept my regression, however, has gotten me wondering if he'd be more accepting now than at the beginning of our relationship to me buying diapers for myself and wearing them from time to time. With 🦇, I feel as though they'd be quick to accepting and possibly even eager of me wanting this, but telling both of them is going to take a lot of courage. :(

I'll make it clear to them both that I won't be wearing them 24/7, just sometimes when I'm regressed or when I need a little more comfort as I go throughout my day. I hope that they can trust me to be sanitary with them, although I do 'use' them sometimes, and I hope neither of them feel embarrassed by having a partner who does. I also hope I won't have to assert to either of them that I plan on being completely discreet with them when out in public AND in the common spaces of our apartment to keep descent in front of our room mates; I feel as though that should be a given. I'll let them know that I most likely will not be wearing to my job, as my work has me moving around a lot and I feel like any sort of padding might just be uncomfortable to wear on shift.

I hope they'll react positively to me telling them all this, but otherwise, I don't expect much else from either of them! I am fully capable of buying my own supplies to clean and care for myself regarding my diapers, I'm willing and capable of keeping track of changing myself either at home and in public, and I'm totally willing to let them know when I want to wear BEFORE I do so in order to not ever have it be a surprise to them.

I'm not sure when I'm going to tell them and as of right now, I'm going to try to handle my anxiety related to this so that I can tell them soon. I'm just tired of having this on my mind constantly and almost every day, so I hope I can have this conversation soon, establish boundaries and answer any questions they may have, and then just start wearing and free up some thinking-space to focus on other life things. :]

To end on a hopeful note, if they DO come to accept my padding, here's the ones I want!

Kiddo - TeddyUltras. Their design is super cute, they have a WIDE single-tape, and they're cloth backed. Honestly, perfect and the company which produces them seems trustworthy for age regressors. These, I'm looking to wear mostly for regression and around the house under comfy clothes.

Incontrol - Adult Diaper Wrap (Pink) - A medical brand of diaper cover which can be used either to cover a diaper OR be used with absorbent pad inserts as a hybrid, reusable diaper. ^~^ This one, I'm intending to wear either over my diaps or with the inserts for outside-the-house use, either on campus or out in public.

Thanks for listening :3

#age regression #age regressor #agere #padded agere #sfw agere #sfw littlespace #age regression community #babyre #babyfur #Eddie Woofs

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tony-andonuts · 2 years ago

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@trans-dwightschrute here's Stan and Michael with their main canes (w/ obligatory stichael)! Currently working on the other goth kids' disability aids but for now read below for a closeup on their canes + some disability hcs!

The left is Michael's and the right is Stan's. Michael's cane has a hidden blade in it but is still practical. Henrietta gave him the crystal charms and Pete supplied the medical tape for the handle after noticing Michael needing to stop to rest his hands.

And Stan's cane is a simple raven but mans likes it a lot. Michael probably gave it to Stan because, y'know, Raven. They probs also have a basic medical cane wrapped in cool tape and stickers but is more fond of the raven cane.

And for the rest of the goth kids, I'm thinking:

Pete uses discreet earplugs and has a spinner ring for sensory regulation

Henri has a wrist brace she wears for when her hands/wrists get fatigued

And Firkle uses Text to Speech for when they go nonverbal

#i also hc stan and firkle as nonbinary btw #im having a lot of fun drawing/coming up with disability headcanons thankyou for showing me the light #tony's art #south park #stan marsh #sp michael #sp stichael #???#sp stan x michael #havent drawn stichael since like 2018 wow #south park headcanons

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all-the-things-2020 · 2 years ago

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A Year of Fandom Crossovers : January

Title: “I Need a Pilot”

Pedro Character: Frankie “Catfish” Morales

Fandom Crossover: Star Wars

Notes: This is the first entry in my Year of Fandom Crossovers! This one is a straight forward adventures placing Frankie in the Star Wars universe. I took some elements of the plot of Triple Frontier and dumped them onto a planet in a galaxy far, far away. There’s a little Stormpilot thrown in for good measure. Hope you enjoy! Thanks as always to @oonajaeadira for creating the @yearofcreation2023

“I need a pilot.”

Franki sighed. How many times had he heard that line? The young man in front of him seemed earnest and a bit naive, something not often seen in this backwater town. What the hell, he thought.

“How much and how far?”

The man blinked. “Um, I don’t have any credits on me, but …”

Franki shook his head. “I don’t fly for free. I got a kid.” He thought of the baby, just able to sit up on her own now.

“I can get the credits later,” the young man said. There was something urgent and strangely calming in his dark brown eyes. “This is important.” He looked around furtively, then lowered his voice. “I’m with the Resistance. Things went bad and … my pilot is out of commission. I need to get him off planet and to medical assistance right away.”

“I don’t fly off planet,” Franki said, taking a drink of his ale. “I’m a hopper pilot. Ferried troops and supplies for the Takaians during the civil war.” He took another long drink. The war had been his ticket out of this skughole town, or so he’d thought. Instead, it had just broken him and his friends and dumped them right back in Damphi.

“Thanks okay,” the young man said. “We just need to get to our rendezvous point and someone will pick us up. But we can’t get there without help.”

“And your friends can’t land here in Damphi because?”

“Because the place is crawling with First Order after we — I — messed up,” the man said miserably. “They’d shoot down anything that looks halfway Resistance. Which is why we need discreet transport. Hoppers are in and out of here all the time. Just … just fly us where we need to go and you’ll be rewarded. General Organa will pay you personally.”

Franki shook his head. “I don’t want to hear about generals or Resistance,” he hissed. “I don’t want to hear about you and your pilot. I got my own troubles.”

“Fifteen thousand,” the young man said. “I swear it. Just get us to the rendezvous.”

Fifteen thousand was a lot of money. Enough to pay off some debts, get back on somewhat solid footing, maybe even start up that little business his wife was always talking about. You’re gonna regret this, he told himself.

“Deal. Name’s Franki but my friends call me Catfish. Long story. Pleasure to do business with you.”

They shook hands. “Finn,” the young man said. “When can we leave?”

Franki shrugged. “Soon as I finish my ale, I guess.”

Finn beamed at him and Franki swallowed a grin. Kriffin’ idealistic kid. He has no idea what the real world is like. Hope the Resistance has more hardened soldiers than him or they’ve got no chance.

**************************************************************

When Finn and his pilot friend entered the hangar, Franki did a double take. He glanced around, expecting Benni and the others to jump out and start laughing. “If you’re messing with me …,” he said, trailing off as they got closer and he saw that the injured pilot was not his friend San-Ti. The resemblance was striking, though.

“I know I’m messed up right now, but I’m not that ugly, am I?,” the pilot croaked. He was clearly in pain but still able to joke.

“Just thought you were someone else for a moment,” Franki muttered. “Let’s get this over with. My hopper’s right over here.”

He led them to the battered vehicle, a decades out of date Model 7G planet-hopper. It wasn’t fancy, but it got the job done and M-98 kept it in working order. Mostly. When the droid wasn’t in the shop itself.

“The left rotor will need maintenance within the next one hundred hours of flight,” M-98 said morosely as they walked up the ramp. “And I’m keeping an eye on the second fuel injector.”

“That’s fine, Ninety-Eight,” Franki said. “This should be an easy trip. Out and back. Like shooting womp rats in a barrel.” He turned to his passengers. “I’ve got a co-pilot’s seat but not much else. Will your friend be okay here in the cargo area?”

“My name is Poe,” the injured pilot said. “And I’ll be fine anywhere, as long as you can get us to our rendezvous in time.” He winced and Finn immediately helped him to the floor.

“Take it easy, buddy,” Finn said gently. “We’ll get you in a bacta tank before you know it.” He looked up at Franki and his warm brown eyes belied his words. The kid was worried.

“Just give me a few minutes to warm up the engines and get the coordinates into the nav computer,” Franki said. “Then we’ll be off.”

“Six point five two minutes,” M-98 chimed in. “I told you that injector is acting up.”

**************************************************************

Flying in a hopper was nothing like flying in a spaceship. For one thing, it was noisier; Franki hadn’t been off world much but he found it eerily quiet when he did. He was used to the rattle of loose panels, the roar of the combustion engine, the thwup-thwup-thwup of the rotor blades. Hopper flying was also rougher than flying in space. Air turbulence combined with the idiosyncrasies of a machine that still had only half of its original parts meant that there was no such thing as flying straight between two points.

“It feels like this thing is falling apart!” Finn yelled. Franki had offered him the second set of headphones, so they could communicate easily, but he’d refused, insisting he wouldn’t be able to hear Poe if he needed anything.

“She’ll hold,” Franki shouted back. “Just sit down and relax.” He kept one eye on the horizon ahead and the other on the flickering blip on his nav screen.

Finn leaned forward, obscuring his view of the nav screen, and Franki fought the urge to shove the younger man out of the way. Be nice to the paying customer, he reminded himself.

“Forgive me, Catfish,” Finn said, “but aren’t we taking the long way around? We’re heading for Bezerr.”

“I know,” Franki said. “Can’t fly directly there because of the mountains. And this is a hopper. Got to refuel every couple of hours. Follow the supply stations.” He indicated the string of green dots their flight path connected.

“It’s just …” Finn shook his head and pulled the headset on. “Look,” he said, once he was on the comm link. “I don’t know if Poe has that much time. He’s getting weaker.” The concern in the young man’s eyes tugged at Franki’s heart. He knew what it was like to lose a comrade in arms. Especially because of a mission gone off the rails.

“Can’t do it,” Franki said. “This route is as fast as I can go.”

“I’ll double your fee,” Finn said. “Triple it, whatever. Just get us to Bezerr before he … look, you said you have a kid, right? So you have a spouse.” Franki nodded. “So you know how I feel. What if your wife — what if that was her back there and it was your fault she was hurt and …”

“I feel for you, kid, but it’s not doable. We’d have to fly over the kriffin’ Pyrshis! Tallest mountain range on the planet. This bucket of bolts isn’t built for those altitudes.”

“Please,” Finn pleaded. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose him.”

Franki sighed. He always was a sucker for big, brown eyes. “Okay, we’ll refuel at Brosia Station. I gotta do some calculations before we attempt it anyway. Better to do them on solid ground.”

“Thank you!” Finn said.

“Triple the fee,” Franki said as he adjusted the nav coordinates to take them to Brosia. You’re really going to regret this, Catfish.

***************************************************************************

“Are you certain?” Franki asked Ninety-Eight.

“Ninety-seven point nine five three percent certain,” the droid replied.

“Not good enough,” Franki said, banging his fist on the console. “We need to get this as close to perfect as possible.”

“I’m sorry, Catfish, but there are too many variables to reach a higher percentage of certainty. Nine seven point nine five three is the best I can do.”

“Almost ninety-eight percent sounds pretty good to me,” Finn chimed in.

Franki shook his head. “Look, kid, we’re not just going across the mountains, we’re going over them. That shortens our range considerably. These hoppers are built to cover distance, not fly high. We get up there where the atmosphere thins out and the engine can’t handle it if we have too heavy a load. So we have to make sure our tanks are empty enough to get enough lift to get over the peaks, but full enough that we have enough juice to get to Bezerr. Plus the rotors aren’t built for thin air, and this thing isn’t pressurized. We get over four and a half clicks and we’re going to start feeling the lack of oxygen. We hit five and a half, we’re getting light headed. Same with the engine. Can’t burn fuel as well when there’s less oxygen. This has to be as near perfect as we can get it or we crash up there.”

He pointed out the pitted windscreen at the soaring crags of the Pyrshi mountains. There was always ice and snow up there. The tallest peak topped out at close to six clicks high. Nothing lived up there except snow fleas and snow spiders and the occasional lost bird.

“If we don’t go soon, Poe will die,” Finn said. “One hundred percent certainty. So I say ninety-eight percent sounds good enough.”

“You’re paying,” Franki said. “Ninety-Eight, double check the tank before we take off.”

“Roger that,” the droid said. “And it might be a good idea to offer up an entreaty to any deities you gentlemen may be particularly fond of, just in case.”

“I’m going to let San-Ti’s cousin remove your humor module if you keep this up,” Franki grumbled. “Don’t know why I let you talk me into installing one in the first place.”

**************************************

The engines were straining. Franki could hear it and, more importantly, feel it. They were slowly climbing the crest of the mountains, aiming for a saddle that was only about twice the width of the hopper, but the lowest point where they could cross over and begin the descent toward Bezerr.

“How’s our fuel?”

Ninety-Eight hesitated a fraction of a second. “Close,” the droid said.

“What the kriff does ‘close’ mean? Close to empty? Close to what you calculated?”

“The fuel level is approximately what I calculated we would need to accomplish the crossing,” Ninety-Eight said primly. “A few milliliters short but close enough.”

Franki shook his head. He hated when the droid was vague with him. It meant things were not good. “How about the rotors?”

“Left rotor is showing signs of wear, as noted previously,” Ninety-Eight said. “Still within safety parameters, though.”

Which means it’s ready to break, Franki translated. He wasn’t even going to ask about the injectors.

“We’re almost there,” he heard Finn say. The young man was in the back with his friend, who was looking much paler than when they’d arrived. Franki was fairly certain the man was bleeding internally; he needed a bacta tank and a good surgeon as soon as possible.

Franki steadied the hopper as they neared the saddle. The winds were tricky around the glacier carved peaks and he fought the stick to keep her steady. “Almost there,” he said to himself. “Just hold together, baby, you can do it.”

They slowly rose above the level of the saddle and Franki could see the rolling plains beyond the steep escarpment of the mountains. As the hopper crept through the pass, a gust of wind slammed down from the cirque above. The left rotor cracked and broke into several pieces. At the same time, the engine coughed and sputtered, then went silent. The hopper tilted swiftly to the right.

“Brace yourselves!” Franki yelled. “We’re going down!”

He controlled the fall as best he could. It was nearly impossible to glide in a hopper, so he couldn’t guide it much, but he kept the nose up so at least when they crashed, they wouldn’t go down face first. A boulder caught the side rails and flipped the hopper sideways before it slammed to the ground, the right rotor still valiantly trying to spin even as it crumpled against granite.

**************************************************

Franki wiped the blood out of his eyes and took off his headset. He’d cracked his forehead against something, but it didn’t appear to be life threatening. “Finn!,” he called. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Finn said. He appeared battered but mostly intact.

“How about your friend?”

“Not great, but he’s still with us,” Finn said.

“And I am still functional, if anyone cares,” Ninety-Eight chimed in.

“Good,” Franki said. “Because I need you to assess the damage and see what we can salvage. We can’t get airborne but at least it’s all downhill from here. Maybe we can rig up some sort of conveyance to get us down.” He could feel the thinness of the air in his lungs. “It’ll take us too long to walk or climb.”

While Ninety-Eight surveyed the wreckage, Franki dug out the first aid kit and cleaned himself up. He had a cut on his forehead and a few slivers of glass in his arm, but otherwise he was just bruised up.

“So, we’re alive and we have a droid,” he said, after handing the kit to Finn. “No broken limbs, but we have one non ambulatory person to deal with. We’ll need some sort of litter to carry him on. And it’s going to get cold real fast up here. If we can’t get moving soon, we’ll need a fire or something else to keep warm.” His emergency survival training was coming back to him in bits and pieces. During the war, he’d mostly dealt with the aftermath of these things, swooping in to extract soldiers from tricky situations. This was the first time he’d been on the bad end of the deal.

********************************************************

Ninety-Eight cobbled together a small wagon out of the wreckage, as well as a rudimentary pulley system that could be used to lower it down the sheerest slopes if need be. “I can pull the wagon with all three of you humans in it,” the droid said. “It will be a bumpy ride but faster than your own feet.”

They settled Poe into the center of the wagon. Franki let Finn sit near Poe’s head, while he wedged himself into the back of the wagon. It was a tight fit, but at least they wouldn’t rattle around this way. Ninety-Eight set off at a steady but sensible pace, traversing the rocky ground as smoothly as it could.

Franki was uncomfortable, but not because of the cramped conditions. It was the quiet murmur of conversation between Finn and Poe that he couldn’t help but overhear. It was very clear that the two men were more than just friends and comrades in arms. Franki wasn’t a demonstrative person; public displays of affection made him squirm. He pulled his cap further down over his eyes, which made him wince as the brim scraped over the fresh cut, and feigned sleep, trying to give the two as much privacy as possible. Which wasn’t much, considering that Poe’s feet were basically in his lap.

“If I don’t make it,” Poe said at one point.

“You’re gonna make it,” Finn said.

“I know, but just in case … tell Rey to take care of Bee-Bee for me, okay?”

“Oh, so I don’t get custody of the kid?”

“You’re a mediocre pilot, babe. He’s an astromech droid. She can give him adventures.”

“I’m a good pilot. I just look like bantha poodoo next to you and Rey.”

“You keep telling yourself that, buddy.”

Franki suppressed a chuckle. Like an old married couple, he thought. But that made him think of his wife and baby waiting at home and the amusement faded away.

*************************************************

It took the better part of a day to reach the plains, but it would have taken them much, much longer on foot. Franki’s forehead had crusted over and itched like hell, he had a pounding headache and his left leg was asleep from being folded underneath him for so long, but otherwise he was in good shape. The same could not be said for Poe; the man had drifted into unconsciousness halfway down the mountainside.

Finn had a handheld comm link and kept trying to contact their ship, but the steep canyon walls were not conducive to radio frequencies. Once they were on the flat, he tried it again and finally received a response.

“Yeah, we’re near the foot of the mountains,” he yelled — the connection was staticky and intermittent — “about three clicks south of the river. Can you get a fix? Yeah? Okay, we’ll stand by.” He thumbed off the comm. “They’re coming to get us,” he said. “It won’t be long.” He smoothed the hair off Poe’s forehead, where it clung in damp curls.

“I’m not sure how much of the fee they’ll have on hand,” he said to Franki. “But I promise I’ll get the rest to you as soon as I can. There’s a bank in Damphi, right?”

“Yeah,” Franki said. “I’ve got an account.” Not much in it, but I’ve got an account.

“Will you be able to get back okay? Without the hopper?”

“I’ll hitch a ride with one of the other hopper pilots. You just worry about him.”

Soon, a nondescript transport descended from the sky, landing a few hundred meters away. A Twi’lek and a human hurried out with a floating stretcher and whisked Poe inside, a med droid hovering along beside them. “Wait here,” Finn said. “I’ll get your money.”

Franki stretched as he waited, idly watching Ninety-Eight tighten the bolts on the wagon. “It’ll be worth more than the scrap value if I spruce it up a bit,” the droid said.

Finn emerged from the transport with a pouch in his hand. “It’s only six thousand,” he said. “That’s all we have aboard. But I swear you’ll get the rest. Triple the original fee. Forty-five thousand.”

Franki took the pouch, weighing it in his hand. New Republic credits by the feel of it, maybe a few other currencies mixed in. Odds were this was all he was going to get from this disaster of a job, but he’d take it. “Take care of your friend,” he said. “And good luck with the resistance thing.”

Finn looked him in the eyes. “Thank you, Catfish. May the Force be with you.” He pulled Franki into a quick, fierce hug and then ran back to the transport, which lifted off a few minutes later.

“A new hopper will cost at least thirty-seven thousand,” Ninety-Eight said flatly.

“I know,” Franki said.

“If he comes through, you’ll be okay.”

“I know.”

“If he doesn’t, you’re kriffed.”

Franki glared at the droid. “Do you want me to have your personality removed?” He climbed back into the wagon. “Let’s go. If we get into town before nightfall, maybe I can catch a flight out and won’t have to waste money on a room.”

*****************************************

Damphi looked almost pretty in the morning light. Franki had caught a ride with Starsi, who was a good pilot but could talk the hind leg off a rancor. They had flown through the night, stopping twice to drop off cargo at poorly lit depots in the middle of nowhere. No wonder he’s flying at night, Franki thought. Still, it was a ride, and Starsi didn’t even charge him anything, simply glad for the company.

They’d sold the wagon to a scrap dealer near the landing strip. Ninety-Eight was still sulking because it thought its creation was worth more, but Franki had wanted to get out quickly. With six thousand, three hundred and ninety credits in his pocket — and no hopper — he was a lot further in the hole than he’d been a few days ago, but there was lots of work in Damphi, even if it wasn’t as fulfilling as flying a hopper. They’d be okay.

When they got home, Ninety-Eight went straight to its charging station. Franki tiptoed into the bedroom but it was empty. A note was on the table beside the bed. “Got an early shift at the factory, thanks to Emmi. Dropped the baby off with my mother. See you when I get off.”

At least I get a little break before I have to explain my latest screw-up, Franki thought as he collapsed into bed.

After a few hours sleep, he found some food and headed for the bank. Might as well pay a few bills off. At the teller window, he emptied the credits out of the pouch. “Deposit this into my account,” he said. “And then tell me the balance.”

The teller punched a few keys and printed out a slip. As she slid it across the counter, Franki shook his head. “This must be a mistake. I only deposited sixty-three ninety. This says seventy thousand.”

The teller consulted her terminal screen. “It’s correct. Although only the sixty-three ninety is available immediately. The rest is from two off-planet deposits that came in a few hours ago. That won’t be available until we get the ping back from the bank on Coruscant. Give it a day or two.” She swiveled the screen so he could see.

39,000: Balance of payment for services rendered.

30,000: For damages to equipment incurred during employment

Both deposits came from a bank on Coruscant. Guess the kid wasn’t lying about his connections, Franki thought.

“Thank you,” he told the teller. “I’ll be back in a couple of days to make some withdrawals.” He turned the numbers over in his head as he left the bank. Seventy-five thousand would allow him to buy a new hopper, pay off all the debts, and still have a little left over. A fresh start.

As he made his way home, San-Ti rushed up. “Hey, man, you would not believe the night I had!” He flung his arm around Franki’s shoulders. “Some kriffing Imperial wannabe thought I was someone else and tossed me in lockup! Then they threw in a drunken Wookiee and we all spent the next few hours trying not to get our arms ripped off. Finally they ran a genetic scan and realized I wasn’t the guy they were looking for and the one who brought me in got reamed out by his superior. It was hilarious! Except for the drunken Wookiee part. So, anything new with you?”

Franki laughed. “You have no idea, my friend. You have no idea.”

#star wars #pedro pascal #year of themed creation #stormpilot #triple frontier #fanfic #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #fandom crossover

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