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ye-olde-sodor · 2 years ago

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Know your Place… (ttte Dc au fanfic)

Thomas hadn't been this excited since he'd been shipped to Sodor!

He'd had been asked to visit the National Railway Museum in York and to be part of a display for Sodor. While the trip was filled with mishaps and accidents, he finally arrived in one piece! And now he was supposed to double head a train with none other then Green Arrow! The Green Arrow!

The two of them met when Thomas was getting repairs to his buffer, and had become quick friends, so to be able to pull a train with them just made the train even more special to him.

Thomas had just rolled out of the shed where he was staying at when something caught his eye.

A large, crimson engine was sitting in the sun beside him. The engine had thin, gold trimmings around the boiler and cylinder. He could see a pair of smoke deflectors attached to the side of the smokebox. As he approached the engine, he noticed a golden nameplate pinned on the boiler.

His eyes widened as he read the plate, and gently rushed to see the engine's face. Her eyes were the same gold as her nameplate and the gentle trimming around her. As he inched closer, he decided to speak to the regal locomotive.

"Duchess of Hamilton, I presume?"

"Oh! Well hello there!" she spoke softly. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there!"

"Oh, that's quite alright." Thomas chuckled. "I didn't see you here either! It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

"The same to you, my friend! I'm guessing you must be Thomas of Sodor then?"

Thomas was taken aback by that. "You know me?"

"Who doesn't know you!" she teased. "Your face is plastered over everything nowadays. Although...you do look a bit, well-"

"Old? Nothing like the books?" Thomas said with a smile, the wrinkles on his face turning upwards as he did so. "I don't take offense to it. I'm actually much happier like this...without the makeup."

"Makeup? Why whatever would you need that?"

"The illustrators for the book made me look like I was built in the 80s, so we have to cover the wrinkles for photos and events for the kids. Y'know..."to keep the magic of the books alive". I even have to change my voice, you won't believe how much of a hassle it is!"

"You can do that?" She quizzed him again.

"Of course I can! Same reason for the makeup. I've been doing it ever since I was 12."

"How curious!" Duchess spoke in wonder. "So what does your real voice sound like?"

Thomas smiled at Duchess again. "It sounds like this! I've been using it since I got here!"

"And the one you use with the children?"

"Something like this!" He spoke in a higher pitch, much like that of a young adult. When the Duchess heard the sudden shift, she was most impressed!

"My, what a lovely talent you have!" She expressed.

Just when Thomas was about to thank her for the complement when another engine had backed into the sheds. A streamlined, Royal Blue engine had arrived, and had placed himself right beside Thomas. Unbeknownst to Thomas, Duchess swore under her breath when he arrived.

"Oh, hello there!" Thomas spoke to him, "Who are you?"

"Who am I?!" Spoke the other engine rudely, "Surely you Sudrians can't be this dense!"

"But we're supposed to be dense, we're made of metal!" Thomas retorted cheekily in his younger voice.

"Quiet you!" The engine replied sternly. "You are speaking to an elite, little shunter, and you will address me and my colleague as such!"

Duchess let out a loud eh hem as the other engine turned his attention to her. "Mallard," she spoke sternly, "He is an elite. And even if he wasn't, you have no right to address your own in such an unsavory manner!

Thomas suddenly realized who he was talking to! He'd been so put off by his attitude that he failed to see his nameplate!

"Him?! One of us?!" Mallard sputtered. "Hamilton, surely your streamlining hasn't clouded your judgment!"

"I can assure you it hasn't." She replied coldly. Apparently Mallard hit more than a nerve with that remark. "This is Thomas of Sodor, from those books I was telling you about. If anything you should be treating him with respect!"

Mallard took a closer look at Thomas and gave a huff. "So it's the world that must've gone mad in my absence. Being a part of some measly book pales in comparison to what us Preserved have done to achieve such a status!"

He let off steam as he narrowed his gaze. "Tell me then, Thomas of Sodor, what have you done to achieve such a status?"

Thomas was, quite obviously, offended by Mallard. First, not only did he personally despise the so-called hierarchy, but he hated the ideas and practices that came with it. Now he most certainly didn't like Mallard in the slightest. Regardless, he believed that he had the upper hand in this argument.

"Well for starters...I work. Judging by your attitude you hardly work at all!"

Mallard was greatly offended by this, while Duchess was tempted to burst into laughter!

"But if you're looking for something more specific," he went on, "I'm the only reason why the express gets any passengers on Sodor. My branch line and my passenger trains connect the majority of passengers to the express. Without me and my branch line, Sodor would be in financial ruin."

"That's a good reason for preservation." Duchess said after regaining her composure. "Same for all of them, all of us even."

"Providing an essential service means nothing to BR unless you do it with extraordinary talent...That is how we achieved preservation status after all." Mallard replied smugly. "Is this express run of yours truly that important to Sodor? To the point where it warrants preservation?"

"It is. Not because the service is irreplaceable, but because everyone gets preserved on Sodor." Thomas argued. "Regardless of who they are or what they do, they can live on the island in peace. It's what makes the island a safe haven for all machines!"

"And it's what makes you the backwards junkyard of Britian!" Mallard fumed. "The fact that you are allowed to even act in defiance of BR's will is an insult to our social order!"

"Your "social order" is a complete joke!" Thomas protested. "An engine gets scrapped because it disagrees with someone?! Engines have to fight each other for the privilege of being able to live?!"

The two engines were in shock! The Duchess more so then Mallard. How did the books miss this fiery temper in the tank engine?!

"In what well developed society is that the "social order"?! It's unfair to those who are doing all the work while engines like you just sit around and do nothing, only for them to be scrapped! How does any of that make sense to you, let alone be acceptable?!"

Mallard, in an attempt to hide his anger, rolled his eyes. "The way I see it, you're only against it because you'd be first in the scrapyards! That, and that it's new."

"It's new?" Duchess intervened, "That's your argument Mallard?"

"Hamilton, since you seem to be a fan of this tank engine here," He challenged, "Then what engine is he?"

"Why don't you ask him?" She replied sternly. "He can clearly speak for himself."

Reluctantly, Mallard motioned with his eyes, signaling Thomas to answer. Reluctantly, he did.

"Modified E2." He spoke bluntly. "Lengthwise I'm shorter than what I'm supposed to be, but that lets me go places where my class wouldn't normally be able to go, like harbors and branch lines."

"Yes yes, but what date were you constructed?" Mallard interrupted.

"June 15th...1915."

To say that the two engines were shocked was the understatement of the century. Both knew Thomas had to have been an elderly engine, but they never would've expected him to be this old! After he got over the shock, Mallard let an evil smirk plaster his face.

"As I've said. It's without a doubt that the older the engine, the more resilient they are to change. We've seen it before and will continue to see it again. They're less likely to conform to our way of life as we now know it."

"Ok, so what's your argument here?" Thomas demanded. "Old Bad New Good?"

"Take this as a lecture, you two." Mallard spoke sternly as he addressed them. "British Rail doesn't take too kindly to those who step out of line..."

He looked at Thomas in the eyes. "You may have the luxury of being preserved, little one, but as a shunter you have the unique risk having that privilege revoked. You're more replaceable than you think."

Thomas bared and gritted his teeth, restraining himself from lashing out at him.

"My advice to you? Treat us with some respect...and know. your. place. Am I clear?"

Thomas's eyes narrowed on the engine, half tempted to spit fire in his face out of spite and malice. At the same time, however, he knew he wouldn't hear the end of it from Edward and Sir Topham Hatt. Reluctantly, he yielded to the other engine, and kept his mouth shut.

"I'll take the silence as an agreement...as for you Hamil-"

"Don't you even think about it, 4468." Duchess hissed. "We've heard enough of your ramblings."

"Ramblings?!" Mallard sputtered. "My lectures-"

"Are for your so-called students." She retorted quickly. "Neither of us are your students, so it would be wise of you to be on your way...now."

With a loud huff, Mallard left the sheds, presumably to head to another shed far away from the others. Thomas let off clouds of steam as Mallard left. Small flames and cinders flew from his mouth in anger and frustration.

"The nerve of that engine." Duchess hissed before turning her attention back to Thomas. "I'm terribly sorry about him dear. Usually he isn't this much of a pest, but it would appear that something must've clogged his pipes."

"And his mind." Thomas added. "What a horrible excuse of an engine, that Mallard!"

"Well said. Now if only I scared him off sooner..."

"But if you did, you wouldn't have been able to put him in his place!" He said cheekily to brighten the mood.

Hamilton thought on what Thomas had said, and then she gave a hearty laugh. "Oh I like you! Why don't you come to my personal shed after your run with Green Arrow? That way we can have a proper chat...without any interruptions this time."

"Personal shed?" Thomas questioned. "What's that?"

"It's a shed that us Preserved can rent for events like this." She explained humbly. "Mine is over on the other side of the yard. It's the one with a large red banner with a gold trim on it to tell others that it's mine, you can't miss it."

Thomas cuffed slowly away, as it was almost time for his run. "Then I'll see you there! I should be there at 5!"

"I'll see you then!" she cheered happily as he left the sheds and headed to the station to wait for Green Arrow. While he looked foreword to meeting the Duchess again, he couldn't help but wonder as to what the deal was with Mallard.

He didn't know why, but he felt as though there was something more to Mallard then just a distasteful attitude. Something dark and sinister was going on...he can feel it.

But for now...he had a train to catch. Two trains if we counted Hamilton. But that's a story for another day.

#ttte #ttte au #ttte dc au #ttte thomas #ttte mallard #ttte duchess of hamilton

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trampohlena · 3 years ago

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Okay, so after last night’s episode I would just like to say that Supercorp IS Endgame. I’d also like to point out the various reasons as to why Kara and Lena are not only soulmates but true twin flames.

For those reading this post who have never heard of the term twin flame: “A twin flame is your own soul, shared across what appears to be two physical beings. It’s one soul, split into two bodies.” -Google’s definition.

For those who are spiritually inclined and have a proclivity for indulging esoteric philosophies; Lena and Kara are ABSOLUTELY twin FUCKING flames 🔥🔥🔥!!

Here are the reasons why:

1. Their drastically different childhoods that resulted in remarkably similar trauma.

Both Kara and Lena have experienced great loss throughout their life. Both mourned the death of their parents, and life as they knew it, at a very early age. Both were shipped off to a foreign land, forced to leave behind everything they knew, in hopes for a brighter/safer future.

Albeit, Lena got the shorter end of the stick in regards to unconditional love, but both were given a second chance and a new start...and yet, they still never fit in, or felt like they truly belonged.

Although they individually have dealt with said trauma in different ways (Lena by pushing away those who try to get too close, and Kara by holding on tightly to those she holds dear) both of their actions are motivated by the same subconscious fear that they HAVE never and WILL never TRULY belong. All while yearning for a sense of “home”.

2. They are opposite reflections of each other; true “mirror souls”, if you will.

Physically, aesthetically, economically, and emotionally—they are complete “mirrors” of one another.

Kara is strong, physically powerful, cut from marble, all hard edges and sharp lines—except for her face. Lena is clearly not as physically powerful, she is soft, all curves, and exudes the grace of the Devine feminine energy—except for her face, which is hard edges and sharp jaw lines. You see what I’m saying?

Aesthetically and economically go hand in hand of course. Lena’s exorbitant wealth is evident in her high-end designer appearance; whereas Kara’s aesthetic is more humble and grounded, and prioritizes comfort over “fashion”. (Let’s admit it. Some of Kara’s fashion choices have been questionable. She clearly rocks the chinos and button-downs better than anything else in that eclectic closet of hers she refuses to come out of 😏)

Emotionally...oh honey. Do I need to say more? I won’t say much but I will say this: Kara is the sun and Lena is the moon. They compliment each other in a way that ensures the world keeps turning.

3. Their individual strengths are the other’s individual weakness and vice versa.

Goes along with the aforementioned “opposite reflection” point above but I’ll expand a bit further in regards to their specific personality traits.

Lena is predominately analytically driven, whereas Kara is emotionally driven. Lena is good in crowds, Kara is not (overwhelmed). Lena is introverted, Kara is extroverted. Lena is detail oriented and has the memory of an elephant, Kara is clumsy and as forgetful as a Pisces (but hey, she has a lot on her plate and barely any free time to balance it). Lena eats like a rabbit-bird-hybrid and Kara eats like a garbage disposal. Kara loves giving and receiving hugs and other forms of physical affection whereas Lena does not (UNLESS it’s from Kara, of course). Etc. Etc. you get the picture.

4. Now this one is the DEAD GIVEAWAY. Undeniable, irrefutable PROOF that Lena and Kara are twin flames.

They are LITERALLY completing what is know as the Twin Flame Journey or the Twin Flame Union.

The stages of Twin Flame Union are roughly as follows:

1. Yearning for “the one”. I think every human being that believes in love experiences this whether it’s throughout their entire life, or only their adult life until they meet this person but yeah. You get it. Kara has always wanted that “Wapow!” moment.

2. Glimpsing/meeting “the one”. Whether it’s only for a short moment, an extended meeting, or perhaps merely locking eyes with them as you pass each other by...you feel immediately connected. There is an instant soul recognition when meeting them, so much so that you could have sworn you’ve met them before or that it’s as if you’ve known each other your whole lives.

Remember when Kara met Lena? And she was gaga-eyed over Lena? Or when Lena felt so comfortable around a new acquaintance that she granted an almost stranger unbridled access to her office? Or how about when Red Daughter flew to America (the country she was taught to hate), with no recollection/memories of Kara’s relationship with Lena (again, the woman she was taught to hate), all because she felt PULLED to do so. And then when she did meet Lena she looked at her and practically drooled over her as if Lena was a double XL cheeseburger with extra special sauce from Big Belly Burger? Like, biiiitch 👀

3. Falling in love. Need I say more? Fine, again, I will. You CANNOT tell me that there is no way in hell that these two morons are anything BUT in love with each other. That’s a lot of double negatives and I appplogize so let me reiterate for clarification: THEY ARE IN LOVE AND YOU CAN’T CHANGE MY MIND!

And at this point is it so freaking BEYOND platonic love, the show cannot explain it away or sweep it under the “just close friends” rug. No. Kara used her Fifth Dimensional Wish (she literally could have wished her entire planet didn’t explode) and she said “make Lena not mad at me, I’m sad 😔” 👀. Mmmkay. Not to mention Lena picking Supergirl over Jack, her former lover. Or the plethora of other times Lena chose Kara/Supergirl over everyone else she knew. Mmkay.

4. The fairytale relationship/friendship. Lena has finally found someone she can depend on, be vulnerable with, support her without judgement, trust with her life etc. and Kara has finally found a true best friend, not her sister, not Kenny who she didn’t realize was her best friend till after he passed? And now he’s not dead?? But her one true best friend that she felt she didn’t need to be neither Supergirl, nor Kara Danvers, but rather Kara Zor-El around (despite Lena not knowing that little tidbit of information).

They were each other’s best friend. Each other’s person. They were happy.

5. Outer Turmoil and Inner Purging—Supergirl and Lena fight. Lena still does not know that Kara is indeed Supergirl and does not pick up on the brewing tension between herself and Kara.

Kara of course is riddled with guilt and her relationship with Lena becomes strained. This outer turmoil creates inner purging by bringing out negative traits in each other. I.E. Lena hiding kryptonite and also Kara asking James to spy on her. Shit gets messy but they still try to make it work.

6. The Runner and the Chaser/Separation Stage—Tensions mount between the two and Lena FINALLY learns about Kara’s secret. And she has a choice to make. So what does she do? She runs. Not physically but emotionally. She completely withdraws from not only Kara and their friends but also withdraws from herself.

She literally experiences cognitive dissonance and becomes someone she is not. Someone other people made her believe she was on the inside, even though Kara knows that it isn’t. And so, Kara chases her.

Lena becomes the runner and Kara becomes the chaser as they navigate this separation stage.

Continuously running and continuously chasing.

7. The Surrender and dissolution stage—they’re fucking done. They’re tired. They’re exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally after all the bullshit they put each other through as well as all the bullshit Lex and the Phantom Zone put them through.

They come to an impasse in regards to Lex and realize the only way to defeat him is to work together, as a team. (El Mayarah anyone?)

They surrender to their emotions and to each other as their egos dissolve and their souls expand after having learned invaluable life lessons. The major one being: THEY CANNOT LIVE HAPPILY WITHOUT EACH OTHER!

8. The last stage that we have yet to see but we fucking better or else I’m gonna January 6 the CW studio building—“Oneness”.

This time, I’m not gonna say more.

So, in conclusion: Supercorp is Endgame because Lena Luthor and Kara Zor-El Danvers are the literal definition of a twin flame, soulmate connection. They are the same soul, manifested in two physical forms, for the sole purpose of expanding their soul’s consciousness.

They deserve to be happy, they deserve to be together. Not only does their union parallel some of the greatest love stories throughout history, i.e. Romeo and Juliet, Darcy and Bennet, Superman and Lois (duh) it would also break the curse of generational karma and illustrate to anybody who watches the show that the only person who defines who you are is YOU. Not a name, not a legacy, not society’s expectations, YOU. And most importantly of ALL...it would showcase that love truly does conquer all.

I rest my case.

TPTB, make Supercorp Endgame or kick rocks ✌️😘

Sincerely,

An empassioned fan with way too much time on her hands.

#supercorp #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #welcome back kara #soulmate #twin flames #the cw

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katyamorrigan · 3 years ago

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‘Hope is the thing with Feathers’ by KatyaMorrigan

For the Grishaverse Reverse Mini-Bang 2021, run by @grishaversebigbang, and with stunning art created by @wqemzz-blog - click here for her incredible illustration of Kaz and Inej!

Captain Inej Ghafa has returned to Ketterdam for the first time in three years. In all that time, The Wraith never docked at Berth 22 for more than an afternoon, and the crew never strayed further than the harbour front.

Could she have stopped by sooner? Absolutely. Did she choose not to for entirely business-related reasons? Absolutely not. She has no idea what her friends will make of seeing her again after so long, least of all Kaz. But there is hope - hope that in that time, he will have grown as much as she has. That he will be the kind of person that she can share a pot of tea with without a thought of how he might feel about her.

Because Inej isn't done with being a pirate yet. But it doesn't mean she wants to be at sea forever.

I had the best time getting to write this fic based on the idea proposed by Emma. So much of a good time, in fact, that I overwrote it by around 4k words in the end... This is the much more civilised 2k word version - the full iteration of the story is on my AO3 ), but this significantly neater version will remain on my Tumblr for good. I really hope that you like it, and check out @wqemzz-blog for all your beautiful art needs!

Link to the fic on AO3: ‘Hope is the thing with Feathers’

And available to read below the cut here:

‘Hope is the thing with Feathers’

It occurred to Inej as she entered Kaz’s office for the first time in three years, that in the past she might have second-guessed the meaning of his offer to have tea together. They had just spent a few hours talking during dinner – mostly talking over Jesper and Wylan, who had hosted the meal and were either polite or forgiving enough to allow them to dominate the conversation with reflections on Inej’s time beyond Ketterdam. Three years was a long time when you had last been teenagers breaking into the Ice Court together, when you were now the owner of a galleon that hunted slaver ships from Fjerda to the Wandering Isle. There was plenty to discuss between them, and it seemed that Kaz had changed enough to ask her to stay with no apprehension, so that they could be in each other’s company a little while longer.

The attic room was identical to her memories of it but her gaze was drawn to Kaz, with ungloved hands, stooping to open the cupboard and bring out two tins. With a tentative look at her, he placed them on the desk and opened them. Inej couldn’t help laughing.

“When did Dirtyhands start keeping cookies in his office?” she teased. “Two kinds, as well.”

He gave a permissive smile. “Nina may have had more influence over me than I would like to admit. She sends them to me from Ravka.”

Feeling a bittersweet rush of longing for her friend, Inej reached over and helped herself to an iced biscuit with a red star on the top as Kaz took the other tin and started to make them tea. The room filled with the smell, quiet clinking noises coming from the cupboard again as Kaz fetched cups and saucers, and Inej watched him from the corner of her eye as she nibbled. He had taken off his jacket, and Inej could see the strong line of his shoulders as he prepared their drinks. Yes, a younger version of herself would have been much more flustered than Captain Ghafa, as she was now. She might have told herself stories about how invested Kaz was, about his tactics and techniques for making her trust him – for making her want to stay. Now she had no such worries. She was in the bedroom of an old friend – an old partner, in many ways – and they were sharing a pot of tea.

Inej smiled as she turned away from sneaking glances at Kaz and looked out of the window instead, at the uncharacteristically beautiful light that was shining in. The fog of the early afternoon had lifted, and Ketterdam seemed to concentrate every scrap of colour on painting the evening sky in crimson and gold. It felt like a personal display from the city, like it was finally welcoming her in. She couldn’t believe that she had been away for so long.

“Can I open the window?” she asked. Kaz chuckled.

“You have never once asked my permission to open a window.” Kaz brought over their cups and placed them on the sill, where Inej was now sitting, and obligingly opened it for her.

A gentle breeze entered the room, tickling Inej’s cheek. She closed her eyes for a second and forgot that she had ever been away. The sensation of being here – in Kaz’s office, on the windowsill, letting the fading sunlight warm her skin – made her feel so young and so old at the same time. It was like slipping into an outfit she hadn’t worn in years, feeling the ways it had always fit her, and the ways that she had grown since. Inej was nothing like the girl that Kaz had once known, but she didn’t feel so different when she was back here, just a little taller and a little more forgiving.

Kaz brought over a plate with more cookies, taking a large one heavily studded with chocolate, and leaned against the wall. It had been three years, but still they were so comfortable existing in a space like this together, breathing in the warm air. She took a sip of her tea, and tasted honey. Just the way she had always liked it.

“You look well,” he said, not breaking the silence but disrupting it, like ripples on a pond. “The sea suits you.”

“Thank you. I rather like it too. Ketterdam has continued to suit you – is that a new scar on your jaw, or have I just never noticed it?”

“It’s new. About a year ago I was very nearly shot in the face by a Razorgull. Fortunately Jesper manipulated the bullet at the last second and I was only burnt.”

She inhaled sharply in sympathy, and Kaz shrugged. “It healed quickly, and that’s all I ask for.”

“Do you ever think you’ll end up more scar than skin?” she said, half in jest and half with sincerity. As the words left her mouth, she thought of how closely her question came to the kind of Suli proverb that she had goaded him with previously. That she had tested him with.

“Not anymore.”

His reply was unexpectedly thoughtful. Inej turned to him, and he gave a soft smile.

“The Dregs don’t get caught up in the same trouble that they used to. There’s less chance for me to get hurt.”

“I’m glad.”

She took a cookie, a chocolate one like Kaz’s, and bit into it. It crumbled instantly, scattering crumbs all down her chin and the front of her waistcoat. Kaz saw; there was a beat of silence and then laughter, Inej’s giggles muffled by the cookie.

“You pirates make our manners look sophisticated,” he commented. She swatted the air in front of him.

“My manners haven’t suffered at all, I’ll have you know!”

“My poor windowsill. I’ll have to clean it now.”

“It could probably do with a clean if you’re anything like you used to be,” she replied, and Kaz raised an eyebrow at her.

“I always cleaned the windows frequently.”

“Specifically the windows.”

He tilted his shoulder and looked out across the city. The gilded roofs stretched from the harbour all the way to the Barrel. Inej watched him as he absorbed it all, taking a sip of tea, adjusting the cup in his bare hands. He looked exactly the way she had hoped to find him – a little stronger, a little harsher, that new scar dimpling the line of his jaw like a tally on a gun barrel, but unmistakeably the same Kaz that she had left behind. He looked every bit the young man that he was – handsome, clever, mean.

“You loved to sit here and look out. I always made sure you’d be able to.”

“Oh.”

She was glad he kept looking at the view. To lock eyes with him then might have done something to her – made her feel another way. A way she had felt for a long time, that she had stifled. Inej focused her gaze on the broken pieces of cookie in her hand, crumbling it more. Everything felt quietly loud; gentle, but unrelenting.

The familiar click of claws on tiles came from a little further along the roof.

Kaz leaned towards the sound. “They must have recognised you,” he smiled, “The crows have come back.”

Inej made an elated noise and turned herself to look. There they were – a little murder of crows, with sharp eyes and sharp beaks, cawing as politely as crows could.

“I can’t believe it,” she murmured.

“They stopped visiting when you left. They knew you were here.”

“No,” she said, delighted but disbelieving. He nodded.

Inej watched them move, alert and intelligent, talking to her. She remembered Kaz’s decrial of them as mannerless and untrustworthy, but when she scooped up some cookie crumbs and held them out, they arranged themselves neatly to feed from her hand. Her hands were rough now from the years of sailor’s work, but she could still feel the smoothness of their beaks as they pecked and the trace of their feathers on her fingers.

“I missed them too.”

Kaz took another sip. “Were seagulls not friendly enough?”

She laughed. “They were friendly in their own way – they certainly ate up scraps quite well. But I couldn’t feed them like this. They didn’t wait for me like the crows always did.”

“They were always looking for you to come back.” His voice was as gravelly as ever, but Inej felt a hint of longing as he spoke. With the last of the crumbs gone, she brushed off her hands and turned back towards the room, to look at him. The expression he wore was the one that she remembered most vividly, and with the least joy; that inscrutable intensity that made her feel transparent. He was looking inside of her, and she struggled to translate what he had seen from the look he was giving her.

“Do you ever wish you had stayed here instead?” Kaz asked.

Ah. The question that she had expected to be met with – it had been avoided all evening while they were with Jesper and Wylan, but now it emerged while they were alone. It was a question that she knew the answer for. Whether it was the one he wanted or not, it was the one he would get.

“No. I love being on the sea. I love having a purpose that I can enact so clearly. Everything I told you over dinner was true – it has its challenges, but I wouldn’t have done anything differently.”

Kaz nodded, and she saw pride lock into his eyes.

“You’ve become somewhat of a legend to the sailors who come to Ketterdam now,” he said, a grin building. “Men who arrive shaken by what they saw at a distance – of a pirate queen in blue and gold invading slaver ships and leaving them to die. It has certainly damaged West Stave.”

She touched her earring. “It has?”

“Of course. The bulk of working girls in any of the brothels are stolen, and with so few slaver boats succeeding in bringing any ashore…”

Inej grinned back. Her only hope when she finally decided to leave Ketterdam had been to bring justice to those children like her, but to know that her efforts were ruining trafficking from the ground up… It was almost too much. Her face hurt from smiling, and Kaz turned away from her to look out of the window again.

“How long are you staying here for?” he asked.

Another question. So much easier.

“Two weeks. My crew have been given leave in that time, but I’m hoping that they will all want to sign on for the next stint.”

“And you?”

“I have given myself leave, yes, Kaz,” she chuckled. Kaz huffed self-consciously. “I’ll be around, is what I mean. If you wanted to have tea again some time.”

“Yes.”

Their eyes met, and she was a teenager again. Inej hadn’t thought about Kaz in that way for a long time. Hadn’t allowed herself to. She knew that the moment in which she let the thought of anything tender and vulnerable growing between them take root in her mind again was the moment in which she would have to rethink her answer to that tricky question. But Saints, it had always been hard not to.

“I can tell stories about Captain Ghafa while you’re gone, if you’d like.” Kaz’s smile was sharp. “Make sure that everyone in Ketterdam knows the name and fears it.”

Her heart betrayed her so, so quietly.

“You don’t need to,” she said.

“Why’s that, Inej?”

Three years of never letting herself near him, just in case the possibility of a dual life came back into play. Three years in which she only regretted one thing.

“I’ll be back again before too long.”

#gvbb21 #gvbbminibang21 #grishaverse mini bang #six of crows #six of crows fanfic #kanej #kaz x inej #grishaverse #kanej fanfic #kaz brekker #inej ghafa

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mappinglasirena · 4 years ago

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I turn to the wise mapping blog for answers. In Rios's quarters there is a starlight cut into the ceiling which we see in I think... one episode? Where is that window situated and would it be at all visible from most parts of the room? (Asking for a friend.)

Thank you so much for that fascinating question! (And for letting me badger you into putting it in the ask box XD)

We do indeed only see the starlight (what an excellent word!) in action in ep. 3, “The End is the Beginning”, when Rios leans back in his armchair and looks up to see a shooting star outside the window.

If you look at the wider view of the room you can see it’s not the only window, either, there are in fact two more:

Looking at the layout of the captain’s quarters, this (roughly) is the location of the windows on there.

Now, as to from where you can see the windows: You have a very good view of one each from the armchairs, the desk chair, and the bed (it’s not directly above the bed, but the recess seems shallow enough that you’d be able to see outside even when lying down). If you were standing and walking around the room, some of the windows might get concealed by the ceiling beams, but, as an example: sitting in the armchairs, you can still see the window next to the bed.

(Also: the furniture is all very moveable, so it’s entirely possible somebody at some point decides to push the bed a couple meters towards the portside wall to have it directly under the window XD)

So far the location of the windows with regards to Rios’s quarters.

Your question actually made me curious though. I vaguely remember looking at exterior shots of La Sirena a few months back, trying to puzzle out where the windows would be located, and not having any luck. But now that we have the amazing illustrations from the Eaglemoss magazine and a number of proper set plans, I took another run at it. Mapping the outline of Captain Rios’s quarters onto the outside of the ship is complicated for a number of reasons (one of which I will touch on below). Without getting too deep into the weeds of “for production purposes, Sirena’s interior is a bit bigger than it technically should be”, this is a slightly inaccurate but good-enough-for-the-moment depiction of where we would expect the captain’s quarters to be located:

As you can see, there is no sign of windows, or even shutters, visible in this topview of Sirena’s hull. That doesn’t necessarily mean that there aren’t any. When the ship crashes on Coppelius, light floods in through a whole lot of windows in the ceiling of the upper deck, which you can’t find on the hull either. (cf. this shot from ep. 10, “Et in Arcadia Ego Pt. 2″)

We see that other windows, e.g. the ones on the side of the bridge, get shuttered when Sirena goes into warp, and after the crash, Agnes tells Picard that Rios opened some shutters she hadn’t even known were there. From all this, I’d say it’s likely that during flight, the windows blend in seamlessly with the rest of the hull plating.

One final note on a little quirk introduced by the way the series was produced:

As I speculated in one of my first posts about the captain’s quarters (linked in the Masterpost), and we since got confirmed, the sets of Raffi’s and Rios’s quarters actually overlap. The wall dividing them (the one the arrow points to in the image below) got moved back and forth in between episodes. The configuration in the image below is for filming in Raffi’s quarters. For Rios’s quarters, the wall got moved one section to the left, cutting straight through the “Raffi’s Stateroom”-label. (This also means both sets use the same door. The door that should lead to the Captain’s Quarters, the right one on the set plan, is really a blind door.)

Superimposed onto the ship’s hull, it would look something like this:

Eagle-eyed readers will already have realized that this means the strip of the room with Rios’s armchairs and the window in question in it is actually the bit that is shared between the two sets. This means that the window also appears in Raffi’s quarters:

(You can just see it over Rios’s head.)

In universe, I would imagine this simply means that Raffi’s quarters have a little starlight as well, though the chair she set up for stargazing isn’t nearly as comfortable as Rios’s armchairs.

I hope this will help with all your window-related fic-writing needs :D

If anybody else has any questions regarding Sirena’s layout or furniture or anything along the lines of “Have we seen where X happens?” “Do we know if they have Y on the ship?”, my ask box is always open and my ridiculously humongous screenshot collection and I are more than happy to help!

#star trek picard #la sirena #cristobal rios #raffi musiker #aramis in space #minimapping #asked and answered #@jazzfic #captain's quarters #upper deck #raffi's quarters #windows #sorry this took so long #i hope it was worth the wait ;)#i can't wait to read that story!!#(also: two posts in one week!! O.O #given my normal speed that is practically prolific!)

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lokis-army-77 · 4 years ago

Text

If You Please

Chapter three

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1994

I'm bad at writing descriptions, so this is basically a reader insert into The First Avenger and then we'll see how it goes from there.

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Masterlist

The afternoon passed quickly and soon it was almost time to go to bed. I was sitting in a chair, reading, in the living room. Steve was sitting in the chair to my left, drawing away in his sketchbook. For as long as I could remember growing up, Steve had wanted to become a comic illustrator. When we were younger he drew small comic strips about the adventures Bucky, himself, and I would go on. They were always fun to read, but then the US entered the war 3 years ago and Steve stopped drawing all the time and focused on trying to join the fighting. He even got Bucky to help train him at the local boxing gym in the afternoons. Now he only drew when he was anxious or if something was on his mind. I knew if I asked he would just deny it and put everything away.

“I’m off to bed Stevie. Don’t stay up too late,” I yawned. I placed my bookmark in between the pages and quietly pulled myself up from my chair. Steve followed and gave me a short hug.

“I won’t, I’ll probably head to bed here in a few minutes. Thank you for helping me pack today,” he said quietly.

“You’re welcome, I’ll see you off in the morning. Goodnight.” I headed out into the small hallway and into my bedroom. I got myself ready, turned off the bedside lamp, and then crawled into bed. The day had been fast but exhausting. I let my eyes close and my mind drifted to thoughts of Bucky on the ship headed to Europe. Was he okay, did he miss me yet, was he alone? I knew he would be fine, but I prayed anyway. I prayed that he would come back to me safe and sound. I also thought of Steve and how he would be going off to training. I knew Dr. Erskine had some plan involving Steve in Project Rebirth, but I just hoped that he knew what he was doing and that Steve would be safe.

Project Rebirth wasn't something to take lightly. We were creating stronger, faster, and better soldiers. Steve had no clue what he was getting himself into and even though I couldn’t tell him I was involved with this project yet, I would be by his side each step of the way.

Finally, tiredness overtook my worried thoughts and I drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next morning started like any other, I woke up to the jarring sound of the alarm clock by my head. After stretching I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom to wash the sleep from my face. The warm water helps to wake me up. When I was through with that I made my way into the kitchen to start making breakfast for myself and Steve like always. I had just placed the bread in the toaster when Steve strolled groggily into the room. He went over to the counter where I had placed our bowls of cereal and grabbed one. Then he walked over to the table to take a seat. When the toast was ready I put the pieces on a plate and took them over to the table after grabbing my cereal bowl. Steve grabbed a piece of toast off the plate and slowly started to eat.

“You look like you’re about to pass out, did you even go to bed like I told you,” I questioned him and took a few bites of my cereal.

“Yes, I went straight to bed a few minutes after you did,” he replied while glancing up from his cereal and through his lashes.

“Well, the dark circles under your eyes prove otherwise. You won't be able to stay up late and sleep in after you move into the barracks.” He shook his head and kept eating. “Well,” I started with a sigh, “I’ve got to head off to work in a few, I can walk you as far as the subway.”

“Thanks, It would be nice if you could come with me but I know you can't take off on such short notice.” I smiled at him and we continued to eat our breakfast in peaceful silence. After we finished I went to grab the empty dishes but Steve grabbed them before I could. “Here, let me. You go get ready.” I thanked him and went on to get ready for the workday.

When walking to the subway Steve and I cut up and joked like we always did. It wasn’t until we were almost at the subway stop that we became quieter. I grabbed Steve and pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’ll see you later. Try not to get into too much trouble during training,” I joked before pulling away.

“I can’t guarantee that but I’ll try my best not to. Have a good day at work, and remember to lock the door when you get home, I know you forget to do that at times. I won't be there to lock it behind you if you forget.”

“That was one time, but I’ll remember to check it before I go to bed. Now go or you'll miss your ride.” I watched as he walked away, I waved to him when he turned around to me. I stood watching until he walked down the subway stairs. After he was gone I started on my way to the recruitment office, which was just about three blocks away.

It was a peaceful walk, the city was starting to come alive around me as I went. Women and men on their way to work and children on their way to school. The recruitment office was slowly coming into view, I could already see a line of young men standing from the door and down the sidewalk.

Once I made it to the building I maneuvered my way through the crowd of boys and headed to the back office where a short old woman sat at a desk sorting through some files. She looked up at me and smiled while she said, “Beautiful morning, do you have the time?”

I responded quickly with the other half of the code phrase, “Unfortunately my watch has stopped at 4:18.” She nodded and reached her hand under the desk to press a tiny button that would unlock a secret door that was hidden behind four large filing cabinets. I quickly headed in before anyone could come into the back room. The door closed softly behind me and locked back into place. I continued to walk down the dimly lit hallway until I found the women's locker room. Part of keeping the secret of working for the military was that I had to keep my uniform in the hidden base and change into it when I went into work.

After quickly changing into the uniform I left the locker room to go to the elevator that was directly at the end of the hall. I pressed the down button and the doors opened up. While inside I pressed the third level button and waited for the elevator to jerk to life.

As the doors slid open onto the third level basement floor I saw many people running around the yellow-lit hallways. I walked out into the hallway and was greeted by Agent Peggy Carter, who was walking towards me from the meeting room to my left. “Morning Carter, what's on the agenda today,” I questioned.

“Good morning Rogers, I believe today you and I will be going to Camp Lehigh to scout out the new recruits for Project Rebirth. We will be helping with their training starting before lunchtime today.” She kept walking as she explained the plans for today, I followed closely behind her.

“Then we should get to the car, it is almost nine,” I noted as we kept going through several corridors to the garage. “I have some things to tell you as soon as we leave.” Peggy nodded but kept quiet. After about a minute of walking, we made it to the large parking garage. It had been built under the secret base as a quick getaway escape or just a way to move discreetly in and out of the city. Some of the tunnels that were connected to the garage went on for several miles. The one we would be taking surfaced only a few miles away from Camp Lehigh.

As we reached the car, Peggy and I both opened our doors and slid into the back seat. A young army man was already in the driver's seat ready to drive us away. “What is it you wanted to tell me about earlier,” she asked.

“Do you remember me telling you about my older brother Steve?” I questioned while looking over at her.

“The one that keeps trying to enlist? I remember.” She nodded her head as she spoke.

“Yeah, that's the one. Well, yesterday he told me that he’s been recruited, and by Dr. Erskine. So that means that he is going to be one of the candidates for Project Rebirth. He has no clue what my job actually is, but with me being heavily involved in this project, will it be a problem? Are there any protocols that need to be followed?” She shook her head and let out a soft chuckle when mentioned Dr. Erskine. Then she looked out the window and seemed to think for a minute.

Turning back to me she said, “There isn’t any protocol that I can think of, other than that you have to treat him exactly like you would treat the other recruits. This is a sort of gray area because of your heavy involvement with this project over the last several years and the fact that Dr. Erskine himself chose your brother to be in this program.” I slowly nodded my head as she continued. “That being said, If we encounter him, I would give him a small explanation of why you are there without giving him any information about the project, and that while he is there in training, you are his superior, not his sister.”

“Okay, thanks. That's what I was thinking but I just wanted to ask you just in case. When I see him I’ll pull him over to the side and explain.” I paused for a second and lifted my hand up to grab at the necklace I had been wearing. Dangling from the small chain was a dainty art deco style ring, which once belonged to Bucky’s mother. I turned in between my fingers and watched as what little light there was, bounced off the small square diamond in the middle. I placed it back under my blouse. “James left yesterday with the 107th, I still haven’t said anything to Steve.”

“You’re going to have to tell him eventually, it will be better if it’s sooner than later. Since James is his friend he shouldn't be that mad. Trust me, I know from experience.” After saying this she looked out her window and for the briefest moment, I saw a look of sadness go across her face.

“I know I should tell him, but Steve has it in his head that James is someone who isn't going to settle down anytime soon.”

“That’s probably because neither of you has given Steve reason to not believe that James is that way. He’s your brother and he trusts your judgment, if it doesn't go over smoothly just give him time, he’ll come to realize that you and James love one another, and there really isn't anything he can do about it,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Here,” she handed me a small stack of manila folders, “look over these. They’re the files on all the project recruits.”

I opened the first folder and started to skim over the information and thought this was going to be a long drive.

#james buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #winter solider x reader #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction

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tessiete · 4 years ago

Note

"I wish you would write a —" continuation or AU of that scene from away the vapour flew (because I've seen you mention that even your AU's have AU's lol and I'm selfishly hoping you'd consider revisiting that fic and coz I can't let this opportunity pass when this fic literally lives in my mind rent free lol)

Alright! At long last I have figured out what happens next. This is for you, dear thing ❤️❤️❤️ ( @lightasthesun on - or very near thereabouts - your birthday)

LED BY THE WANDERING LIGHT

It starts with a very little thing: a seed.

It is slipped from the glove of a Republic aid trooper who smiles as he passes it over.

“From the General of the 212th,” he says. “Don’t know what it is, but I damn near lost the thing on the way over.”

“For me?” he asks, and the man nods, his grin growing wider.

Then he leans in as though commiserating with a friend. “Jetiise sha’bise, lek?”

“Elek,” agrees Korkie, dubiously, turning the little living pebble between his fingers.

The trooper grins, and gives him a friendly shove before trotting off back to his ship. Korkie has come down on his aunt’s behalf to oversee the relief efforts, but he is distracted by the seed in his hand. It is flat, and furry, and pleasingly plump. If he squeezes it, he can feel the skin relent and rebound, and if he digs in his nail ever so gently, he can feel the taste of water upon his thumb, and see the pale blush of springtime in the depths of the cut. It is a seed of something, he knows, but of what?

He places it in the breast pocket of his Academy jacket, and turns his attention back to the work. It is an impressive, and important sight, but his thoughts linger on the seed, and he feels it sit bright and eager against his heart.

Later, when the supplies have been unloaded, and the aid troopers seen off, when the ceremony of thanks and assurances of neutrality have all been displayed, when he is back in his room at Sundari only hours away from the magtrain ride back to school, he plants the seed in a little pot of black earth, and dampens the soil. It will not grow tonight, but he cannot help but stare at it anyway, waiting in the dark, beneath the stars, so patient.

A week passes, and he is back at the Academy when the mail officer - an upperclassman he’s never met - stops at his place during first meal.

“Su-su, Kryze!” he calls. “A package for you from the Core.”

A small bundle wrapped in layer upon layer of bonding tape, and stamped with the ink of a hundred spaceports too numerous and cramped to decipher lands upon his lap. He uses the thin knife from his plate to slice through the plastifibe envelope.

When his fingers graze the object within he gasps, and pulls back the wrap to reveal a real, proper book. It’s not even printed on flimsi, he notes, cracking the aged spine and letting the pages fall open, but on actual paper. They don’t make these in the Core, and hardly ever in the Mid Rim, it’s just not economical, and most planets don’t have the resources to spare. But this one is old, it’s pages creased, and worn smooth at the corners with the turning of many fingers. It is about horticulture, though the illustrations of green and growing things have faded to browns and burnished golds. It is beautiful.

A piece of dried grass has been tucked between two pages, and when Korkie folds them back to look he sees an image of the seed he’d sown in the pot by his bed. Beside it, a riotous bouquet of blossoms burst in an array of different colours. It is a daesyn flower.

He tucks the book in his kebisebag, and carries it around for the rest of the day. At nightfall, he takes it out with careful reverence, turning the pages back to the daesyn slowly lest they tear or turn to dust. Then, by the light of a little glowrod, he props the book against his window and reads along as he tends to the small green sprout only just peeking through the soil.

He buys a sun lamp, and a watermeter, and adjusts the temperature of his quarters much to Amis’ chagrin, determined to provide the most optimal growing conditions he can for the little plant.

After a month, the seedling has become a sturdy sprout, with prickly leaves of a green so deep it might be blue. He is attempting to commit those variegated lines to flimsi when Amis returns to their quarters, a small pouch swinging from his hand.

“I’m supposed to give this to you,” he says, tossing the pouch. Korkie reacts without thinking, snatching the bag out of the air before it can hit the ground.

“Who’s it from?”

“Front desk. Said some high up Republic alor sent it.”

“Which one?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t ask, did I? Too busy polishing the silver.”

Korkie grimaces in sympathy, having spent many an afternoon of his first year cleaning the trophy case in the main hall. He thinks that Amis’ plight could be easily avoided if only he behaved himself, but refrains from saying so to his friend.

Instead, he pulls the drawstring at the top of the purse, and turns it over his hand. A dozen discs of coloured glass tumble into his palm. They are thick, and smooth, though not polished by anything but time. Each is a different colour, though some are struck through with shimmers of gold and silver.

“What’s that?” asks Amis over his shoulder.

“Don’t know,” he echoes. The glass feels comfortable in his grip. Made to be held, and carried, and passed from hand to hand.

“Should ask Lagos,” says Amis. “That seems like her kind of thing.”

He makes no reply to Amis, but of course, he does as he suggests. Lagos is, after all, a walking encyclopaedia, and of all their friends the most likely to at least have an idea of where to start looking.

The excitement on her face when Korkie shows her his hoard tells him she has more than an idea - she knows.

“Oh, oh, oh!” she gasps. “Where’d you find Abafar trading beads?”

“They were a gift,” he replies. “What are they for?”

She picks them up one at a time and holds them to the light. By some trick of their design, they cast no shadow, but seem to capture the rays inside like banked embers, or twisting prisms. The ones marked with ribbons of ore grow warm in her hand, and she presses them to his cheek so he can feel their heat.

“They’re the traditional currency of Abafar,” she explains. “It’s a desert planet in the Outer Rim, and craftsmen in the Void used to make these beads as a means of facilitating trade over great distances. Metal was scarce, and the beads could also be used to retain heat for longer - that one in your hand could keep the warmth of the sun all night, if you wanted it to.”

He considers the disc of deep indigo, and holds it up to the sun until it turns red. The glass seems to have become molten, but its warmth is not painful in the hand. He leaves the bead out for the rest of the afternoon to test Lagos’ theory, and brings it into bed with him at night. Tucked beneath his pillow, it radiates a soothing heat, and he feels his muscles relax and his worries melt as he drifts away into an easy slumber.

The next gift he receives is shattered into bits.

“Sorry, kid,” says the attendant at the delivery depot when he arrives to claim his parcel. “Happens sometimes with these packages from the front. The war is not a safe place for fragile things. Bic cuyir meg bic cuyir.”

He takes the present anyway, carrying it delicately back to the Academy, fearful of breaking it further. When he finally tears through the tape and plastifibe, clay and ceramplast pieces give up any pretense at form and clatter over the surface of his desk.

It was beautiful once, he can tell. Perhaps a bowl or a cup turned by hand - he can see the telltale print of a foreign finger pressed into a section of naked clay - but now it is only fragments and dust.

Still, he hovers over the pile, turning the pieces this way and that, trying to see how they fit together. He doesn’t notice when sixth bell rings, or when Soniee pings his comm, or when Amis sneaks in past curfew and turns out his light. He stays up late into the night, until the form takes shape, and through the cracks and crevasses of painted clay dawn creeps in.

It is an amphoriskos. A small vessel for storing precious oils, like the kind used in the rituals of so many traditional peoples. There is none in it now, and Korkie retrieves the sachet to see if perhaps it was spilled into the weave of the plastifibe wrap. But it is dry. And the clay, when he looks at it more closely, is dry and unstained by use. The gift was always empty.

The shards sit upon his desk in their loose arrangement until, one afternoon, Amis moves to sweep them off into the dustbin.

“No, no!” protests Korkie, before Amis can complete the task. “I want to keep it.”

“What for?” his friend asks. “It’s broken.”

“I don’t know yet.”

He collects the bits of amphoriskos into his hands, and arranges them about the base of his daesyn pot. The paint glints in the light, and so too do the Abafar beads nestled amidst the debris. The plant grows green and bushy, its leaves reaching out to skim the rim of its bed as though a swimmer poised on the edge of emersion.

He receives Theelin singing strings wound tight around a holodrive meant for the Duchess, paired basalt spindles from Hapes, seashells from the deep oceans of Mon Cala, and a set of Lateron hoops carried on the wrist of the visiting senator from Naboo.

“From Master Kenobi,” she says, and she smiles at him with a warmth that feels like family. He wonders if they’ve met before, if he should know her, but she moves along with the entourage of press and government officials before he can ask.

He is home for Holyrod month, and has brought his prizes with him carried along specially in his kebisebag, his daesyn in his hands. He sets them out along the windowsill in his rooms at Sundari. The watchet blues and greens of crystalline filtered light play over his collection, illuminating one after the other in joyous turn. He does not know what they mean, or why his father has sent these particular things to him, but they are all precious, and he longs for a way to display his gratitude for the thought he has been spared.

The daesyn itself revels in its new surroundings, and leans close to the glass to get as close a view of the sun as it can, budding with imminent delight.

The Senator from Naboo is called Padme, he discovers when he is introduced to her again at mealtime. And she has not come alone. She is part of a delegation of foreign ambassadors, all from the Republic, but not all, Korkie suspects, as enthusiastic about the Chancellor as they had once been. There are murmurings and whispers amongst them, hurried out between thin lips and caught only in the corner of his eye, or the turn of his head, but whether satisfied or not, they are accompanied by the ceremonial force of the Senate, and the might of Palpatine himself - Two Jedi travel with them.

Anakin Skywalker, and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He sees him through the crush of bodies, and later down the line at suppertime. In the midst of deep blues, and mauves, and furs, and silks, his earthen tunics stand out, but he is always distant, always just out of reach. All he needs is a moment, he thinks, to make sure he’s seen, so he can acknowledge his father - even in the polite, and suitably respectful language of perfect strangers if he must, but it never comes.

The plates are cleared, the halls are emptied, and Korkie finds himself bidding his aunt (she is always his aunt here) goodnight, and wandering back to his rooms alone.

It is dark when he arrives, though by the window the Abafar beads glow like the distant lights of the city. He slips off his stiff shoes, and his raiments of clan, but is interrupted by a knock at the door. He waits, uncertain, until the knock comes again.

Perhaps his mother come to assure herself of his health and presence, as she has done so often in the past, but he opens the door to find Obi-Wan Kenobi waiting, with his hand out. In the euphoric rush of astonishment, he hastens to place his own hand upon his father’s as is customary on Stewjon, though he holds fast in a manner peculiar between children and their parents.

“Master Kenobi,” he stammers. “I did not expect you. I thought you’d left. Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Obi-Wan replies. “I’d rather hoped to catch you alone, but I’m afraid our schedule was somewhat packed.”

“Of course.”

He is staring, he knows it, but he can’t seem to think of anything else to say, caught up in looking at his father and searching for all the commonalities between them. Does he tilt his head like that? Does he stroke his chin? Does he frown and smile by equal measure?

But the weight of his scrutiny is too much to bear, and Obi-Wan cracks.

“I thought to ask: did you get my gifts?”

“Yes,” says Korkie. “Thank you. They were very thoughtful.”

“Ah...And did you - did you like them?”

At this, Korkie cannot help but smile, and he shakes his father’s hand, tugging him forward with zeal.

“Yes, of course,” he says. “Would you like to see?”

If he is confused by his son’s desire to reintroduce him to items he has already laboured over and seen, then he does not show it. Nor does he resist when the hand in his pulls him further into the room, and doesn’t let go even as a curtain is flung open, and a light flicked on low.

He is pulled over to the broad casements and left to bask in starlight as Korkie steps aside to reveal a colorful mobile hanging from the frame of his window.

“The amphoriskos broke,” he explains, and sees a shadow flicker in his father's eyes. “No, no,” he insists. “It wasn’t your fault. It just happened. But I couldn’t bear to throw it away. It was so beautiful.”

He gestures at a silver thread from which hang a variety of irregularly shaped clay shards. The shiny amber and black paint catches the light thrown by the glowing Abafar beads strung further up, and on another and another thread. When he blows on them the threads hum, and sway together, the seashells and pottery and glass clattering together like wind chimes.

“The singing strings,” notes Obi-Wan, and Korkie grins.

“And the Lateron hoops,” he says, pointing to the frame from which the strings are suspended. “And the spindles, for balance. It’s meant to hang with my window open, like it is at school. And then, at night, when the dreamwinds come, the whole thing sings, and shines, and glows like the stars.”

“It’s beautiful,” says Obi-Wan with awe. He reaches out with one hesitant finger, the beads flickering beneath his touch, and the strings murmuring the low notes of an opening phrase.

“You gave it to me,” says Korkie with a shrug, and Obi-Wan turns his awe upon his boy.

“No,” he says. “I gave you fragments, but you have made them into art. You gave them meaning. You gave them a soul.”

Korkie shifts on his feet, fretting at the cuff of his sleeve, and diving in.

“Would it be okay, do you think -” he starts, then stops. Then he starts again. “Do you think it’d be alright if I wrote you? Every once in a while.”

“Wrote me?”

“Or com’d,” he says, quickly. “Only I know you’re busy, and I can’t expect to lay claim to any of your time, not really, but I -”

“Com me,” says Obi-Wan. “Write me. Send me anything you like, but only say you will and I will have all the time for you I can spare.”

“I promise that I only want a very little.”

“If it’s mine to give it’s yours to have, Kiorkicek,” his father swears. His grip upon his hand is firm, willing him to believe him, and Korkie nods his head because he does.

They stand there, hand in hand, reading themselves in each other, and learning the other in turn, and in the glow of the stars, and the city, and the Abafar beads, the daesyn flower bursts from its roots into a riot of colour and life.

#Obi-Wan Kenobi #Korkie Kryze #SW #Star Wars #my fic #GFFA #prompt fill #Korkie is a Kenobi

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laws-yellow-submarine · 4 years ago

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Together With Fruit Ch. 9 (Snippet)

Omgomgomg I actually finished something omg

Obviously this is not the full chapter, but it’s a pretty major chunk of it, and because I’m just so proud of myself and happy that I actually got something I set out to write forever ago FINISHED, I am posting this snippet here as a one-shot (it’s...more than a snippet really, it’s like 4000+ words, and it’s mostly unedited so...ye’ve been warned lol)

Word Count: 4199 (yikes)

Enjoy! Hopefully I’ll have the rest of the chapter finished within the next week or so!

“We’re finally nearing the Grand Line…” Nami muttered, pointing at a spot on the map. “It looks like the only way into it is through Reverse Mountain here.”

“Reverse Mountain?” Hazel murmured, peering over the girl’s shoulder at the point where the seas intersect.

“What a pain. Can’t we just sail straight through it?” Zoro groaned, glaring from where he sat leaning against the rail. Sanji shook his head.

“Nope, from what the geezer told me, that’s the only way boats can enter.”

“How come?” Usopp asked.

“Cause it’s supposedly dangerous.”

“But how come?!”

“I don’t know any more than that!” Sanji yelled, glaring at the sniper.

“Boys, please…” Hazel scolded, trying to stop any fights before they could occur.

“The reason for that is-”

“Alright! I got it!” Luffy interrupted Nami, pointing at the map. “Then let’s head straight into it!”

“Are you even paying attention?!”

“But it sounds fun!” Luffy insisted, grin never wavering. “Plus it’d feel way better going straight into it!”

“Fun or not, I’d like to actually make it to the Grand Line before we die,” Hazel told him, side-eyeing her brother’s enthusiasm. Nami shared the sentiment.

“Talking to you makes me feel like I’m gonna go crazy…” the navigator whined, palm to her forehead in exasperation. Luffy soldiered on, ignoring the women’s concerns.

“Anyways, let’s stop at an island first and get meat! Meat! Meat!” Nami reached a finger out to point at a spot on the map, and Luffy and Hazel both peered closer at the paper.

“There’s a famous city on this island...Loguetown.”

“Loguetown?” Luffy asked, puzzled look on his face as he tried to think. “What? Is it famous for its meat?”

“Also known as the city of the beginning and the end…” Zoro chimed in, thoughtful look on his face. “I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that before.”

“It’s where Gold Roger, the former Pirate King, was born,” Hazel supplied, appearing somber, “and where he was executed.”

“The town where the King of the Pirates died...” Even Luffy’s voice was tame, contemplation clear in his eyes. Nami swung her gaze to meet his, sly smile finding its way across her cheeks.

“Wanna go?”

“Yeah! I wanna see it!” As he spoke, his voice grew more excited, though it never lost its reverence. “I wanna see the town where the man who got the One Piece - everything this world has to offer - was born and then died!” Luffy stood up, grin fixed firmly back in place. “Nami! Set sail for Loguetown!”

As the crew scrambled to set their course, Hazel smiled at her brother’s excitement, though she didn’t share the enthusiasm. She didn’t really harbor any opinions on the former Pirate King, good or bad; there just wasn’t enough information available on who the man truly was. She had asked her grandfather once, considering what she knew about his connection to Ace, but after hours of pestering the only thing he’d told her was “don’t believe everything you hear”. Other than that cryptic statement, she knew about as much as anyone else: he was born in Loguetown, he circumnavigated the entire world, then turned himself in (to her grandfather, no less), and was executed in his hometown. For someone who was so famous, you’d think there’d be more to know about him.

Hazel looked down at the notebook in her hand, blank since Shells Town except for the notes she’d taken. She wasn’t going to let Luffy fall into that same level of anonymity. Sure, the boy couldn’t care less about the fame; his views on being the Pirate King weren’t shared by most other pirates, though she found his ideals to be more admirable. What she really didn’t want to happen, though, was for her baby brother’s name to be smeared by the media, with nothing to counteract it.

Which meant she had a lot of work to do.

“Well, before we get to Loguetown, I have to get to work. Which means I’m shutting myself in my room until I’ve finished writing about our adventure so far!” Hazel stated for all to hear. She ignored the odd looks sent her way. “So no one bug me, ok?” When she’d received satisfactory nods, Hazel made her way to the girls’ room, shut the door, and plopped herself down at the writing desk. She ripped out her pages of notes so she could refer to them easily as she wrote, then opened to a blank page, her pencil hovering above the paper.

An hour later and the page was still blank.

Hazel’s pencil had moved, at least. It’d been set on the desk, balanced on her nose (a failure on her part, but no one could see it so she wasn’t too pressed), twirled between her fingers, tucked behind her ear as she stretched in her chair (and changed position at least three times; currently she had her feet on the back of the chair with her head leaning on the desk). She’d doodled little pictures on her note pages; tiny flowers and crude renditions of her crewmates (note to self: hide these so Nami doesn’t see). There’s a reason she hadn’t decided to illustrate this book.

Another hour later and her legs hurt from how much she’d been bouncing them. The page remained blank, her mind void of ideas, and her eyes were fixed on the picture frame hanging on the far wall. Maybe some food would help? She didn’t think she ate much at breakfast…

As Hazel made her way on deck, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight that greeted her. Nami was lounging in the sun on the top deck, being served some fancy drink from their newest member. Zoro was, surprise, napping beneath the mast, his swords propped in his lap. Luffy sat on the other side of the ship, watching Usopp practice with his slingshot. Oh, that could be fun!

“Whatcha guys doin’?” Hazel asked, sneaking up behind the sniper, causing Luffy to laugh at the boy’s frightful shriek. “Oops! Sorry, Usopp!” He just glared at her in return.

“Usopp’s practicing his slingshot! See? We set up some targets against the other side of the deck, he’s really good!”

“Well, you see Luffy, I’ve been using a slingshot for at least 25 years,” Usopp boasted, ignoring the fact that he was only 17. “Which of course makes me an expert sniper!”

“25 years, huh?” Hazel snarked. “Well, mister “expert”, whaddaya say to a little contest? The closer to a bullseye gets you more points. Whoever gets the most points wins.”

“Uhh, ok, Hazel. But where are you gonna get a slingshot?” Hazel just pointed to Luffy. Specifically his arms. “Hey, now, wait a minute! You can’t use him!”

“Why not?” Hazel and Luffy asked, both with blank looks on their faces. The sniper spluttered.

“Because-! He’s not-! And you-!”

“Ok, look - we’re not going for power here, just accuracy, so it’ll still be a fair contest. And we’ll use the same ammo, ok?” She left no room for him to argue back, immediately grabbing one of the pellets from his hand and positioning her brother. Usopp rolled his eyes behind her, but sidled up next to the two, aiming his own slingshot at the first target.

“Ready...aim...fire!” Usopp let the pellet fly, smacking the target right in the center.

“Hey, nice job Usopp! But I’m gonna tie it up right here!” Hazel ribbed, tying Luffy’s fingers together to form a sling. She pulled them back, tongue poking out between her teeth as she aimed carefully. When she felt confident in her position she nodded, waiting for Usopp to give the signal, and then let go.

The target shattered to pieces.

“Oh fuck-!”

“WHAT ARE YOU THREE DOING?!” Nami’s shrill voice called, causing all three to wince.

“Luffy did it!” Hazel immediately yelled while Usopp checked the ship for damage.

“No I didn’t!”

“Now, Luffy, you know you shouldn’t lie.”

“I’m not-!”

“ENOUGH!” Nami yelled again, interrupting the siblings. “I don’t care who did it, you’re just lucky the ship didn’t get damaged! You and you-” she pointed to Usopp and Luffy “-clean this up! And you!” Nami pointed at Hazel, making the older woman feel suddenly small. “You’re supposed to be writing right now! Not breaking things!”

“Well...you see...the thing is…” Hazel trailed off as Nami continued to glare at her. Huh. She didn’t like being on the receiving end of this. “I was hungry…?”

“Then ask Sanji-kun for a snack and get back to work. You told us not to bother you and we’re listening, take advantage of that!” At Hazel’s huff Nami smiled. “If you’d like, you can sit in the tangerine grove. I find it very relaxing when I need to focus.”

“Hmm...a change of scenery may be helpful. Thanks, Nami,” Hazel smiled, rolling her neck. “I better go bug Sanji.” But Nami held up a hand to stop her.

“Nope! You go sit, I’ll get it. I don’t want you to get distracted again.” The orange-haired girl walked away without another word, and Hazel was forced at that point to just listen to her. She made her way to the upper deck, finding a nice spot under the trees to nestle in. She reopened her notebook to the still blank page, and tapped her pencil against her chin as she tried to focus. The breeze up here was nice, as well as the sounds of her crewmates (Luffy and Usopp had made a game out of cleaning up her mess). The smell of tangerines wafted over her, muddying her senses. One of her curls was tickling her forehead.

She’d made zero headway by the time Sanji appeared with a snack.

“Hazel-chwan!~ I’ve brought you a plate of delicious sandwiches, and a fresh glass of cabernet sauvignon,” the man said, brandishing a platter on one hand and a glass of deep red liquid in the other. She looked to the glass curiously. Despite having practically lived in a bar half her life, she’d never actually tried wine. Her alcohol tended to be of a rougher variety.

“Oh, yeah, alcohol. That’ll help,” Hazel muttered, hoping Sanji didn’t think her rude. For all she knew, it would get the creative juices flowing, so to speak. “Thank you, Sanji.” She smiled at the cook, his feet practically floating off the ground in happiness. He turned to leave her, and Hazel tentatively took a sip of the wine...only to immediately cringe when the bitter liquid hit her tongue. She glanced around in panic, hoping the blond didn’t see, and snuck the glass behind her back, hidden under the trees. “Ooh! Sanji, wait up!” she called, wine forgotten as she grabbed her plate and ran after him.

“Yes, my love?” Sanji asked, twirling around to gaze at her through heart-shaped eyes.

“I just realized that I never asked about what happened at the Baratie! After we left?” The cook’s expression had switched to confusion at her question. “In fact,” she continued, following him into the galley, “I don’t actually know that much about you. Tell me, what’s your dream? Your motivation? Your tragic backstory? Spare me no detail!”

For the first time since they’d met, Sanji wasn’t looking at her with adoration. In fact, he almost looked a little scared. His eyes darted around for half a second while she pulled out her best pout, gray eyes shining like a puppy begging for table scraps. Later, she’d chide herself for being so mean. After all, she used to practically torture Ace with that expression. But for now, she needed answers.

“Well…” Sanji started, pulling himself together before all the blood rushed out of his nose. “I am merely a humble sea cook, mademoiselle. I fought valiantly for my former home, and for the chance to gaze upon your lovely visage once again.” He flourished into a low bow.

“Uh huh,” Hazel chuckled, an amused smile on her face as she raised a brow. “Definitely humble.” Sanji rose back to standing, an easy grin in place at their shared humor. “Come on, lover boy. Sit with me awhile and tell me a story.”

The two sat and talked for a time, Hazel’s pencil scratching across the pages of her notebook as Sanji divulged all the details he felt comfortable sharing: how Luffy had bartered with Zeff for his freedom, the way he’d swatted projectiles with a single kick. She had a feeling he may’ve been embellishing his actions a bit, but having seen the way he’d toppled part of a building at Arlong Park, she knew it wasn’t all bluster.

He told her of Pearl, the man who’d covered himself in armor, only to lose his mind (and catch fire, apparently) at the first drop of blood. How Gin, the man he’d helped, had taken the old man hostage, and how he’d been willing to die to save his mentor’s dream. Hazel filed away that note for later, planning to ask about the clear devotion Sanji had for the old man, even if the blond tried to hide it behind snark.

She tried not to laugh when Sanji told her Luffy destroyed part of the ship. From what he was telling her, it was actually a brilliant stroke on Luffy’s part, and definitely contributed to Sanji’s outlook on the situation; but the way the blond’s curly brow furrowed over his eyes at the memory was, in her opinion, hilarious.

“So, wait,” Hazel started, pausing Sanji’s tale of his fight with Gin. “How did you come to the Baratie in the first place? Zeff isn’t your father, is he? Why so devoted to preserving his dream?”

Discomfort crossed the cook’s face, as it had earlier, but whether it was his dedication to please the woman in front of him, or because he’d already come this far, he gifted her with the reason. “He saved my life,” was the simple answer. The follow-up nearly brought tears to her eyes.

Hazel reached across the table, covering his hand with her own, and she sent him a soft smile. A light blush dusted his cheeks, and she allowed him to turn away to light a cigarette; she even grabbed the ashtray off the back shelf for him.

Just as they were about to continue, the door to the galley swung open, a rubbery body bouncing its way inside. “Sanji!! Food!” Luffy yelled, head turning frantically before his eyes finally settled on the cook.

“You just ate, you damn animal!” The cook scolded, and the somber mood was broken as Hazel burst into laughter.

“But I’m hungry! Food!”

“I’m busy!” Hazel took that moment to step in.

“It’s alright, Sanji. I can get the rest from you later. If you don’t start dinner soon, we may not have a ship to sail on anymore,” she laughed, drawing Luffy’s attention. The boy leaped onto the bench in front of her, taking Sanji’s place, and glancing at the notebook for a second without reading.

“Whatcha talkin’ about? Whaddaya need Sanji for?”

“He was telling me about your fight with Don Krieg, since I missed it.”

“Oh! I can tell you! There was a boom! And a woosh! And then I went ‘Gum-Gum Bazooka’! And then there was poison gas, but we’re fine, and then everything went boom boom boom boom! And then I got poked a lot! And then-” Hazel tuned out as her brother continued telling her all about the fight with as little detail as possible. Sanji shot her a confounded look over their captain’s shoulder, and the girl replied with a nonchalant shrug. When Luffy finally finished, he looked to his sister expectantly, proud grin wide across his face.

“Thanks Luffy, I’ll make sure to write that down.” The boy nodded, then looked back at her notes from Sanji’s story.

“Looks like you’ve gotten a lot done!” Hazel flinched, grimacing into her palm.

“Yes and no…” Luffy just looked at her, confusion in his eyes, and Hazel gave a heavy sigh. “To be honest, Luff...I don’t really know where to start.”

“At the beginning. Duh.”

“Wow, I never thought about that,” Hazel deadpanned. “And get your finger out of your nose!” As Luffy stuck his tongue out at her, something struck her. Hazel’s eyes widened, an invisible energy urging her hand to move across the paper. “Actually, Luffy, you’re a genius! Thank you!”

She vaguely heard him say something in agreement, but her mind was too focused on the idea it had. Start at the beginning...she was surprised the thought hadn’t occurred to her earlier; after all, she’d only just told the story a week ago.

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

Foosha Village had always been a peaceful town. Even when pirates had settled their sails at its docks the year previous, the villagers had yet to deal with much past the occasional bandit or two. Our lives had been much the same, short as they were; filled with fun and laughter and play. Then one day, the stuff of legends became real, and peace would be known no more.

The sun had shown brightly that morning, though my brother and I had already been up for hours. We always had trouble sleeping the closer to Shanks’ departure. In only a short time, the red-headed man had wormed his way into our lives, and our hearts, and my brother especially was determined to join him this time.

So it was that we stood on the deck of the Red-Hair Pirate’s ship, the hustle and bustle of supplies and crates being loaded around us. A few of the men were singing songs - definitely inappropriate considering the children in their company - but we’d already spent the last seven years in a bar. There was nothing in those songs we hadn’t heard before.

I had been listening to Benn Beckman’s tale of their last voyage when Shanks’ voice had called our attention to the figurehead. Standing atop the dragon’s maw, my brother Luffy stood glaring down at our pirate friends. Unfortunately, none of us had taken his declaration of strength seriously. Not until he drove the knife beneath his eye.

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

The paragraphs flew quickly out of her hand, the day in question clear in her mind. Hazel took a moment to shake out her wrist, feeling stiff as she read over her work so far. She liked it, she really did. Now to keep up this momentum.

The door opened once again, and Usopp and Nami wandered in, talking about something she couldn’t hear. Hazel was still glaring at the page, chewing her cheek as she thought about how to word her next sentence. She heard Sanji mention dinner would be ready soon, Luffy’s excitement sounding through the room, then Usopp’s hiss for him to be quiet.

“Don’t distract her! She’s scary when she’s mad!” the boy whimpered out, much to Luffy’s amusement.

“No she’s not!” he laughed, drawing the sniper’s ire.

“You didn’t think that when she made you take a bath!” Hazel stifled a snort.

“Speaking of which,” Nami chimed in, holding a hand to her nose. “How long ago was that?”

“Actually, Luffy, you are due for one. Zoro too,” Hazel said, looking up at her surprised crewmates. What, did they think she couldn’t hear them at all? “Why don’t you go wash up before dinner. Please?” Luffy groaned, glaring at the navigator, but dutifully made his way to the bathroom. Despite what he said, he didn’t want to push his sister. Again.

Hazel took that moment to stand up, stretching her back with a loud pop, grabbed her notebook, and made her way outside to tell their grungy swordsman his bath was after dinner. She couldn’t see him at first when she stepped outside, but after glancing around for a moment, she finally spotted him. She blinked when she saw his bare back, mesmerized for a moment at the way the muscles rippled as he did push-up after push-up. A second later, she blinked the distraction away, and walked down the steps to the grass-haired man.

“Hey, your turn for a bath after dinner,” she told him, practically hearing him grit his teeth at the notion. “Dinner’s actually almost done, by the way, so you may wanna wrap it up here.”

“Not done,” he grunted, prompting her to raise a brow in his direction.

“Well find a way to be done. We’re hungry, and you’re sweaty.”

“If I’m gonna get stronger, I can’t cut training short. I need more weight.” His gray eyes swung up to hers, and Hazel got the distinct sense he was sizing her up.

“What do you want me to do about that?” She regretted asking the instant she said it. Zoro gestured to his back. His extremely sweaty back.

“Climb on.”

“Excuse me? What are you insinuating here?” She crossed her arms, trying to decide if she needed to hit him for calling her fat or not. She caught him rolling his eyes.

“You’re all muscle, it’s heavier. Climb on.” Hazel chewed her lip, weighing the pros and cons. Then, deciding she had nothing to lose except her hygiene (and really, she could do with a bath herself), she stepped closer to him, cautiously sitting down when he paused for her. He reached his arm around, causing a startled squeak as he adjusted her position, then he resumed his training, a new strain in his breath.

While he worked, Hazel puzzled once again over her notebook. Disappointment flowed through her as she stared at the four lone paragraphs, the struggle for where to take the story next staying her hand. She’d gotten nothing done today, and it was difficult not to take it to heart.

“What are you sighing about up there?” her cushion grunted below her. Hazel rolled her eyes, but decided to humor him by answering anyway.

“I’ve been working on this all day, and somehow I have nothing to show for it.” Zoro was silent except for his heavy breathing, but for some reason she pushed on. “What kind of record-keeper am I? What kind of storyteller can’t tell a damn story? I don’t even have to make it all up, it’s all stuff that happened…” A puff of air escaped her as her eyes began to sting. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this…”

She hadn’t meant to say it, at least not out loud, and was startled when her chair suddenly stood up. She cried out as she fell, but before she could hit the floor, Zoro’s arms came out to steady her. She looked up at him in shock, affronted at the small glare he sent her way. “Read it out loud,” he said, pointing to the little book in her hands.

“Eh?!” Hazel shrieked, appalled at the very notion of any living being actually hearing her work out loud.

“Read it out loud,” Zoro said again, shrugging his shirt back on. “Then I can tell you if it’s shitty.”

“No way! It’s not ready for human consumption yet!” she yelled, glaring as he sat below the mast. “Besides, who are you to tell me if it’s shit? You wouldn’t know good literature if it waved a sword at you and said ‘boy, speak your name’!” Zoro rolled his eyes at the reference, but leveled her with a steady gaze as it dawned on her the trick he was trying to pull. “Stop it, it’s mine. Why should I share it with you?”

“Because I like the way you tell stories.” He said it so simply, like it didn’t carry nearly the weight for him that it did for her. Hazel felt the blood rush to her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. Something held her gaze on his, something she couldn’t possibly name.

“So how does me reading it aloud help me write it?” Her voice was so quiet, she was surprised he could even hear it.

“Just write it how you’d say it,” he answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And when he said it like that, it did seem obvious, and Hazel could kick herself for not thinking of it sooner. Before she knew it, she felt herself nodding, sitting beside him beneath the sail.

“Foosha Village had always been a peaceful town….” she began, reading from the beginning, and surprising herself when her voice continued past the last paragraph. He’d heard the story before, but still Zoro sat, listening with rapt attention. Her voice slowed as she wrote, not allowing herself to forget what she’d said, what phrases she used that flowed from her mouth like water.

At one point Hazel glanced beside her, surprised to see the swordsman’s eyes shut. She let out a sigh, finishing her sentence, but not continuing on. She found herself rolling her eyes at the sleeping swordsman, irked that he apparently found her so boring.

“You stuck again?”

Hazel turned to him again, meeting his gaze through half-lidded eyes. She let out a half chuckle, shaking her head in amusement, before diving into the next paragraph.

It was only Luffy’s call of “Dinner!!” that finally drew the two inside.

#together with fruit #twf #monkey d. hazel #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #zoro x oc #one piece #one piece fan fiction #one piece fanfics #one piece oc #one piece original character #I don't even care if this is 'good' I'm just. so glad to have something tangible written #I wanna keep going but it's late and my hands hurt #but the hard part is over; all that's left is canon events

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bonesaldente · 4 years ago

Text

Caliginous I Darth Maul x Reader

Chapter 14: The Survival

Final Chapter of Part I

(see notes at the end for more)

ao3

previous chapter

chapter overview

words: ~3200

____

The morning air is chilly on your bare arms. Elbows leaning on the balustrade, you stare at the masses of water. They’re constantly in motion, never in one place for too long, yet still essentially the same wherever they are.

You never held much love for your guild, not for the people part of it and not for what they made you - a killer, cold, but not cold-blooded enough to not care. Dangerous enough for people to be wary of you, but not menacing enough to command people. You hold power, but only over yourself, and even that doesn’t seem to be yours entirely.

No, you don’t like the guild, but you can't imagine a life outside of the path they chose for you; there is not much you’re good at outside of fighting and murdering. Whatever you do, you always seem to revert to the same old ways.

“What’s on your mind?”

You didn’t hear Maul join you on the balcony, but seeing him stand next to you from the corner of your eye pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Just thinking. Lots of ‘What ifs’, nothing worth mentioning.”

He hums quietly.

“I sometimes wonder what would have been if I hadn’t been made what I am now. If I had been born free.”

It’s easier to talk like this when you are able to just stare off into the distance, not having to face anyone.

He doesn’t stop you, so you keep talking.

“Maybe I would be a bounty hunter. Live on my own terms, don’t rely on authorities but do things myself.”

“It would fit your skills,” he agrees.

You shrug. “Maybe in another life. I am with you now, and I intend on staying. That is,” you face him, “as long as you want me to.”

“Do you truly still question that?” The corner of his mouth twitches in a hint of a smile.

“I’m just making sure,” you mumble. “To be honest, I don’t know what I’d do if I were alone. This galaxy is too big to travel on your own.”

He looks at the sky in thought, blinking slowly.

“I won’t leave you alone.”

Morning came around faster than you expected it to. A service droid knocked on your door to drop off trays with food shortly after the sunset, delivering the first real food you’ve had in weeks.

It’s strangely casual to eat at that table with Maul; it doesn’t feel like you two are currently taking over a system, while also waging a war against the Jedi.

“I don’t like the Naboo… but their fruit is good,” you admit while the sweetness fills your mouth.

“Is it?”

“Try it,” you push your plate over to him, but he pushes it back without taking a piece.

“My species is carnivorous,” he explains, exposing his prominent canines to illustrate his point.

“Huh,” you tilt your head. How come you didn’t know that?

“You’re missing out, then.”

His nose crunches up in disgust. “It doesn’t seem all that appealing.”

When he moves his face like that, the black inking on his nose gives him a very youthful look, and you have the terrible urge to boop his nose.

Where are those thoughts coming from all of a sudden?

You just shake your head, proceeding to munch on the vast array of fruit, perfectly content with your choice of food.

“Gunray expects us in an hour for another briefing. We will then wait for my master to give us more intel on the plan of the queen, then we will come up with a strategy. It is likely we will have another encounter with her and her protectors soon.”

You sigh quietly, already dreading the moment you have to let him walk into a duel again. “Yeah.”

You just hope it won’t be so soon.

“We are sending all troops to meet this army assembling near the swamp. It appears to be made up of primitives.”

The blue hologram sways with the movement of the droid projecting it into the air.

“This will work to our advantage,” Lord Sidious remarks.

“I have your approval to proceed, then, my Lord?” The Neimoidian sounds nervous, not just because of your and Maul’s presence anymore, but also because of the hooded man speaking to him. You can’t blame him; Sidious gives you, too, a queasy feeling in your stomach.

“Wipe them out,” Sidious orders. “All of them.”

The transmission ends, and with it the tenseness in your muscles.

“They will try to use the battle as a diversion,” Maul points out.

“We shall prepare droid forces in the palace and ready ourselves for a possible ambush,” Gunray agrees, bowing to him. “And we can monitor the situation in the palace from the surveillance room.”

He leads the way along with his lieutenant, Maul and you following with a distance.

“He is concerned for his personal safety,” Maul murmurs, so that only you can hear it. “He fears they will capture him and hold him accountable.”

You lean in but don’t take your eyes off the billowing robes of the green skinned politician.

“He does seem like a coward.”

You barely manage to suppress a yelp when suddenly, he grabs your arm and pulls you behind a pillar, hidden from the view of the two oblivious men still walking.

His lips clash into yours with an urgency you can’t quite comprehend, while he pushes you into the stone of the pillar.

The surprise at his sudden display of affection hardly gives you time to enjoy it, and he pulls away much too fast.

“I… just got a feeling,” his eyes look troubled.

“A force-feeling?” You inquire, already knowing the answer.

A small nod confirms your guess.

“Should I be worried?”

He scans your face for a second.

“You already are. But no, you should not,”

“Well,” looking over his shoulder, you see the men have almost rounded the next corner, “I think we need to catch up with our green friends.”

He nods, but doesn’t pull away from you for another moment, something else hiding behind his glowing eyes, something you’re not sure you want to understand.

Everything is going to be alright. It has to.

“I thought the battle was going to take place far from here. This is too close!”

Your eyes are glued to the screen, which has just changed to an overview over the yard, where blasterfire can be heard from a distance, tanks smoking and exploding.

You track the movement of the attackers, trying to anticipate their next destination. Until now, the Jedi have been mowing through the droids as if it were nothing, slowly and steadily bringing down the palace’s defenses. The group of politicians in the room is growing anxious, and rightfully so.

“The hangar,” you finally pipe up, watching the men pile through an entrance on the west side. “They are headed for the hangar!”

“If they get a hold of the starfighters they could issue an attack on the droid control ship and shut down our army!” The viceroy exclaims, dread lacing his voice.

“We must move now.” Maul decides. “Focus your forces on the hangar.”

“But they do nothing against the Jedi, as long as-”

“I will take care of the Jedi.”

So this is it.

Secretly, you have been hoping the droids would be enough to finish the Jedi. A foolish, naive wish, but still, there is disappointment swirling in your blend of emotions.

“We should evacuate this room… To the throne room!” the lieutenant suggests, watching as another tank blows up.

The mood in the surveillance room shifts - the politicians didn’t expect to get caught up in an actual battle when they came here.

“I will stay here,” you quietly notify Maul.

It’s the only way I can still watch over you, remains unsaid.

The doors open and the people start to crowd out, Maul following last, waiting until the last man has turned his back to you two. Again, something is in the air, something that he is sensing but not telling you.

“See you in a bit?” You ask timidly.

“Yes,” His gloved hand brings you into his chest, your ear right over his jugular where you hear his steady pulse. The sound of life. You wish you would never hear anything else again. One hand holds your head close, the other intertwines your fingers briefly.

“Yes,” he repeats, with more resolve this time around.

It physically pains you when you have to let go, but you both know that you have to.

You keep yourself from watching his retreating form, telling yourself that you are overreacting and imagining a goodbye where there is only a “see you later”.

You click through the holocam views until you have found a good view on the hangar.

A full on shootout is happening, and several starfighters have already taken off. Droids are falling left and right, cut in half or hit by a deflected blaster bolt.

There is no sound, but it is clear they are speaking to each other now, planning their next steps. They start moving to the gate, but when it opens, it reveals none other than… Maul.

Looking as menacing as the first time you met him, he makes the group freeze in place. Your fingers tremble, knowing that a fight for life and death is about to start.

So much to lose… and what is to win? For you, it doesn’t matter if the Trade Federation will be able to have some kind of treaty with Naboo. You don’t even care if there will be two Jedi less to travel the galaxy; All you really want is for Maul to make it out of there alive.

The people surrounding the Jedi run through a smaller exit on the side, but it’s obvious that Maul is far past caring about anything other than the two targets before him. He removes his hood and drops his robe at the same time that the Jedi do, not once looking away from them. Even through a low resolution, flickering screen, the tension is evident.

With a practiced twirl, Maul ignites first one end of his red lightsaber, then the other, balancing it in front of his body.

The two Jedi follow his example and present their blue and green blades.

For a moment, it’s as if time stands still, the only indication of its progress your heartbeat thumping in your ears.

And then, the duel begins.

You wince, unable to breathe while watching the flurry of blue, green and red. They move much too fast for you to follow with your eyes, yet you can’t peel your eyes off the screen. It feels as though even blinking will cause you to miss something, and you can’t, you cannot miss even a second of this fight. What if he gets injured, or worse, while you’re not looking?

The duel moves closer to the generator complex. You watch the men balance and jump over narrow catwalks: A drop from this height would be deadly, and that’s without two men with lightsabers viciously attacking you.

You suck in a sharp breath when Maul manages to catapult the Jedi who looks like what they call a ‘padawan’ over the edge with a kick behind his back.

For the fraction of a second, you take your eyes off your lover and instead watch the blond man fall, huffing in disappointment when he manages to hold on to a ledge.

The next moment, Maul himself is sent flying, fortunately landing on a lower catwalk. He narrowly blocks the next attacks while still on his back, and you heave out a sigh of relief when he is back on his feet, out of the vulnerable position.

They get closer to the edge of what the holocam can capture, and you fumble with the keypad for a few seconds to get a better view.

When the different angle appears, everything is tinted red. It takes you a minute to understand that you’re looking at red force fields that separate the power generator room from the rest of the palace. Maul and the Jedi are on different sides of the fields, putting a pause on the intense fight. The Jedi master is meditating, while your Sith is pacing up and down like a wild animal, like a predator.

They must feel a change in the force, because simultaneously, they ignite their sabers again, just seconds before the force fields retract row by row. Immediately, the Jedi master is back on Maul, both of them moving backwards, inching closer to another deep drop, something that looks like a reactor shaft.

The padawan is once again separated by a force field, shuffling to a halt right before it closes. Both of you are stuck watching your partners fight; and what a fight it is. The exchange is faster than ever this time, yet everything seems to slow down to slow motion when Maul stuns the Jedi by knocking the handle of his lightsaber against the man’s head, then rams the blade right through his chest.

Your entire body relaxes in your seat. Just one more to go, this shouldn’t be a problem. Everything is going to be alright now. He has killed one of them, all that’s left is the padawan. Yeah, this won’t be a challenge. You’ll be reunited in no time and-

The field retracts once more and like a beast set loose, the padawan charges at Maul. It is an incredibly fast paced fight, faster than with the master, so fast that you have to force your eyes to focus on the spectacle.

A small gasp escapes you when his lightsaber is cut in half, one half flying off to the side, the other remaining in his hand when he is pushed on his back again.

“Get up, get up,” you mumble, watching as the padawan flips over him. Maul, of course, jumps back up before the other man can land any strikes, elegantly evading his attacks.

Their sabers clash, interlocking for a second, then Maul pushes the padawan back, using the force to shove him over the edge, sending him falling a few feet down the shaft, where he just barely manages to hold on to a pipe.

From your angle, the ground partially obscures your vision on the man, but an early sense of victory fills you. Now, you two will be able to leave and make your own decisions. You’ve proven your worth, and now-

Your skin feels numb.

You are still breathing, but there is no oxygen reaching your lungs. Reality seems so far away, so disconnected, as you stare. You stare and watch the Jedi padawan leap, summoning his master’s abandoned lightsaber, flying over Maul’s head.

And then, suddenly, Maul is falling.

Your body goes cold, then hot, then back to cold, bile rising up your throat.

A shaking hand clasps over your mouth, and it’s only then that you realize that your entire body is shaking.

Your vision blurs, all you can see is the padawan running to the body of his master, crouching down next to it.

Maul is just… gone. Disappeared, down the reactor shaft. How could this happen?

It’s not true, it’s not true, he can’t die, it can’t be,-

Trembling, your breaths coming out short, accompanied by a desperate sob, your fingers find the keypad again, and you rewind the footage. You have to see it again, you just have to, despite already knowing what’s coming.

The padawan jumps, Maul turns, the green blade slices right through his stomach.

You rewind again, and the same footage plays out in front of your eyes.

You rewind again, and again, until the images are burned into the back of your head. When you bury your face in your hands, instead of darkness, the same images welcome you. There is no escape from your emotions, but you still try.

You don’t know where you’re going, all you know is that you need to get away. The sounds of blasterfire still echo in the corridors, but they are far away.

You wish they were here.

You wish you weren’t alone.

Passing a statue that looks familiar, your sense of orientation returns to you. If you turn left here, you should reach the hangar.

But do you really want to? Can you?

No, you can’t. You’ll break down, that much is certain, but do you have a choice? Could you live with yourself, not having gone to look with your own two eyes?

You pass multiple piles of droid remains, and some dead bodies clad in the maroon color of the Naboo guard, which does little to soothe your sorrow.

The hangar, too, is deserted, and you head straight for the high gate that you watched the men disappear through just minutes ago. Before everything changed.

The gate opens after you press a button on the control panel and you fall into a sprint to the generator. There is a glimmer of stupid, unreasonable, unjustified hope in you still, and the closer you get to the scene, the faster you run.

You round a corner and immediately crash into someone, stumbling backwards and barely catching yourself before falling.

Your jaw drops.

The man before your eyes is the Jedi padawan, the one who took everything, the one who killed Maul, staring at you with wide eyes as if he hadn’t just destroyed your life.

Behind him lies the body of his master - he must have dropped it when you ran into him.

He still hasn’t moved, and neither have you. He could kill you, quite easily probably, with as distraught you are. Maybe he should - it certainly would be more pleasant than Darth Sidious deciding to dispose of you. The thought alone sends you into another fit of shivers.

The padawan holds your stare for another moment, then he lifts his master’s body again and staggers past you.

You watch him leave in shock. He is not going to fight you? He is not going to even ask you why you are running towards the reactor? And you? Shouldn’t you at least try to get revenge for what he did? The killer of the one person you loved is right here, and you are letting him get away just like that.

But you are a survivor. You have always been.

And if letting the Jedi get away means you will live to see another day, then so be it. You will survive purely out of spite, and one day, you will get revenge.

You start running again, until the reactor shaft appears in your vision.

And of course he is not there. How would he? You watched him die, how could your desperate mind even let you think he might still be there, alive, hanging on to a pipe just like the Jedi did?

You sink to your knees, the tears running freely now, and you feel so, so alone in the universe.

You will live, if only to live the days that were taken from him. There is still fire glowing in your chest, and the looming darkness that being alone presents will not be able to extinguish it.

‘Your purpose,’ his voice resounds in your head, ‘is to live.’

When he said that, you thought he meant that you are of no use to the cause if you are dead.

Not, that should he die, you shall live.

“I will live,” Your whisper echoes through the air, the only answer you get the repetition of your own words, combined with dry sobs from somewhere deep in your chest.

You will live.

_____

So! Angst!! That's always fun :)))

I have already started planning and mapping out my ideas for a part two that's set during the Clone Wars era. I plan on posting a little teaser soon, but the story itself is still going to take some time. Also, my classes are starting again, so I don't know how much time I'm going to have.

I already have so many ideas for things I could do in a part II, and I'm really excited to share them in the near future :)

Thank you to everyone who has read this. It means the world to me when I hear somebody likes what my garbage brain produces.

All comments/messages/asks are welcome anytime, and I’m still going to be active on here <3

Everyone on the tag list: Unless you don’t want me to, I’ll keep tagging you for part II, if that’s ok :)

____

@princessayveke @spaghetti-666 @larawl @noiralei @secretnerd00 @bagpipes606 @zabrak-show @brilliantbutbatty

#darth maul #maul #darth maul x reader #maul x reader #sith #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars reader insert

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mariinara · 4 years ago

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REDAMANCY. (Sam Drake x Reader) PART 1

Tags: @the-winchesterboys , @the-drakeboys , @missdictatorme , @s4mdrake , @samdrakeftw , @purplezebra68 , @hrgnm , @unchartedterritoria

Word count: 3,107

(PROLOGUE, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4)

Location: London, UK, Bloomsbury district

______________

The smell of cheap liquor and perfume filled your nostrils as you walked through the hotel's hallway, your eyes glued to the crimson carpet beneath your feet, a small shiver running up your spine as cold goosebumps riddled your skin.

Even in summer, London was chillier than Boston at night and you wore a grey sweater just in case it started to rain out of nowhere. You've been there before and you didn't want to repeat the same mistake. Not that the sweater made much of a difference.

When you were at the intersection of two hallways, you snapped your eyes up to look at the gold-plated signs on the wall that were engraved with a deep black color, indicating the range of the room numbers in both hallways.

'Third floor, room 303..'

You repeated in your head as you walked down the correct hallway, your eyes scanning the rooms on your left and right, in search of his room.

You were so engrossed in your search that you left Connor hanging on the phone that you loosely held against your ear.

"Babe?"

You blinked twice, "Yeah, I'm here.." You licked your dry lips, feeling them get a bit tacky from the cold weather and your shallow breaths, "Just, uhh.. Haven't been here for a while." You replied, a bit absentmindedly.

"So you're there?"

"Yeah."

"Keep me updated, okay?"

"I will, baby.." You stopped in your tracks once you saw room 301 and, suddenly, you didn't want Connor to get off the phone. You knew that as soon as you'd hang up, you'd feel the anxiety again.

"You wrap it up and come right back, okay?" He told you, and you could hear the cute little whine in his voice that made you smile.

"How could I do anything else?"

He chuckled softly, "Alright, I love you."

You pursed your lips, "Love ya, too, hun.."

A pang of guilt hit you. You knew you shouldn't be lying to him about your whereabouts and about what you'll be doing for the next few days. You'd told him that you were flying to Nate and Elena's house in Nassau to do big renovations for the place while they were away. Connor knew that you've always wanted to be an interior designer, and he got you multiple, big gigs in his show as prop manager and designer, which got you into the business quicker than you expected.

The lie you concocted was not fool-proof but it was the only thing that rolled off of your tongue once Connor asked who it was on the phone the other day.

You didn't like lying to him. Relationships were all about the truth. That was something you firmly believed in. But he wouldn't understand this. You promised you were done and just setting out to fulfill a childhood dream would actually sound really stupid to him.

You heard the line go blank, which made you inhale deeply. There bubbled your anxiety again, causing your stomach to do cartwheels. Uncomfortable ones.

'Room 303..'

You chewed down on your bottom lip and pushed your phone back into your pocket, switching your duffel bag to the other hand that wasn't as sweaty and, as you took cautious steps towards the assigned room, you felt the air getting thicker and everything grow silent, only hearing the pounding of your heart.

'You got this. He's just an old friend.. a-an acquaintance.. a.. brother..?'

You stood there, eyeing the wooden door with your eyes nervously flickering. With a shaky breath, you pulled up your hand to check the time on your wrist-watch.

9:10 P.M.

You were supposed to be in there ten minutes ago. As an extremely punctual person, something bothered you about that, and, hurriedly, you found yourself knocking twice on the door. When your hand dropped to your side, your chest filled up with instant regret.

'It's not too late to turn back around, is it..?'

You asked yourself, looking down the hallway you came through earlier, pondering the idea of making a beeline out of there.

But, suddenly, the door in front of you creaked open, and you whipped your head to look at the man standing there, staring back at you with an almost surprised expression, like he just knew that you wanted to turn and run last second.

There it was again. That feeling in the pit of your stomach that made your breath hitch in your throat. Just staring into his eyes brought back all those bitter memories, but you quickly shoved them to the back of your head, letting a shaky sigh leave your nose. It was then that you noticed that he was in a dress shirt that had the first few buttons open and the bowtie around his collar was loose. The shirt was tucked in formal suit trousers, too, which meant that he was getting into something fancy for.. what exactly?

He leaned closer towards you, looking left and right down the hallway. You'd pulled your face away with wide eyes when he got that close and grabbed onto his upper arms when one of them snaked around your waist.

"What.. are you doing?" You slowly asked him, staring at him with furrowed brows as he studied the hallway.

Without replying or looking at you, he pulled you into his warm hotel room and let go of you to close the door.

You blinked in confusion, staring at him with furrowed brows as he turned to look at you, his eyes studying you closely and intimately. His gaze trapped you and you almost felt as if he had a hostile air about him.

"Have a seat." He simply told you, gesturing to the table next to the terrace that had a half-finished bottle of whiskey, an ashtray with a cigarette still propped on, the smoke slowly rising in the air, and an array of maps and books, all stacked in a messy heap.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, "Nice to see you, too.." You muttered, discarding the black duffel bag on a bench pressed against the wall and dragging a chair to slump down on.

"How was your flight?" Came his voice as he made his way to the table, circumventing it to stand on the opposite side of you, picking up his cigarette and flicking the ash off before pulling it up to his lips.

You crossed your arms over the table and nodded, trying to avoid his intense gaze, "It was fine." You simply replied with a small nod.

Sam held the cigarette between his lips and unscrewed the cork of the whiskey bottle, "Drink?" He offered before pausing to raise an amused brow at you, fighting back a teasing smirk, "You do still drink, right?"

You sent him a glare, your hands intertwining together a bit tighter, "That's funny." You humorlessly replied, "I do. But no i–"

"No ice." He continued, pouring some of the golden liquid into a glass cup that he set in front of you, "I know." His eyes were on you as he sat down with a small sigh, his back relaxed against the chair as he took a drag from his cigarette.

You ignored his stare and brought the glass to your lips, "So.." You clicked your tongue, "What was that all about?" You asked, your fingers tapping against the glass. He shook his head slightly, his eyes narrow. "At the door? You looked like I'm not the only one you were expecting." You elaborated.

"Mmmm.." He nodded, leaning forward to put off the cigarette in the ashtray, blowing out a cloud of smoke, "I was expectin' star boy to be there.."

You rolled your eyes, "His name's Connor." You corrected him, sitting back to cross your arms over your chest. You saw his brows twitch up in silent agitation, a forced, lop-sided smile on his face, despite that. "If you don't trust me, why'd you call me?" You questioned a bit defensively.

He hummed while taking a swig from his drink and shook his head, putting it down, "I trust you. It's you who doesn't trust me." He pointed an accusatory finger at you, making your brows pull together.

"Can you blame me?" You retorted. He paused for a second to search your eyes and he immediately knew you were talking about what he'd done back in Libertalia. It stung, the way you viewed him. Especially you. But he swallowed his tongue, nonetheless.

His eyes flickered down to your hands, spotting the engagement ring almost immediately. It drew an amused smirk to his lips when his eyes met yours, "That's a big rock." He commented, "I take it he finally got his big break, huh?"

You looked down at your hand, turning it to take a look at the ring. Your eyes rolled and you put your hands on your lap, wiping your sweaty hands against your denim-clad thighs, "So, what're we doing?" You gestured to the papers and documents and maps all sprawled on the table.

He cleared his throat and started to search for something in particular and, finally, he pulled it out from the pile of papers, then silently passed it to you.

You glanced at the folded paper that seemed to be ripped out straight from an illustrations’ book and raised a brow at him, “This is..?”

Sam chuckled, “Open it, genius.”

“Right.” You unfolded the paper quickly and narrowed your eyes at the ink drawings of the Unicorn ship. It was illustrated at different angles, with very detailed focus on important attributes that made it special, “Fifty cannons.. Triple masted.. Two decks..” You nodded, “That’s our girl.”

“Okay, now look at this..” He quickly shuffled to look through the pile for a certain book and, when he pulled it out, you immediately recognized the cover of his favorite pirate book. You watched him flip through it quickly, humming under his breath. It was something he often did when he was deep in thought or onto something and you remembered how you would point that out, back when things weren’t so rocky with him, but the thought made you smile, nonetheless, “There it is.” He motioned you to come closer and you instantly scooted your chair to his side to peek at the book with him, “Sir Francis Drake from Marlinspike hall..”

You sighed at the pirate’s name, “This guy just didn’t know when to quit.”

Sam sent you a proud smirk, “Runs in the family.”

You smiled at him and, you could swear that you saw his younger self for just a split second, but once you realized that you were gazing at him for too long without uttering a word, you looked back at the book, “The last captain of the old, beaten Unicorn..” You read.

Sam’s focus was back on the book and he skipped a few unimportant lines, “The ship set sail from Barbados in 1676 on one of the most ruinous voyages in maritime history.” He had that part underlined lightly with a pencil and your eyes moved lower to spot another underlined paragraph.

“Ship never reached its destination.. Attacked by pirates, all hands lost except for one survivor, yadda yadda..” You muttered. But then, at the next line, your eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, “When Sir Francis Drake was rescued and brought back home, he was convinced his name had been cursed.” You glanced at Sam with a small snort, “Go figure..” He chuckled at you and listened closely as you read. “The Unicorn’s manifest states that the ship carried cargo of tobacco and rum bound for Europe, but, it’s been long claimed that it carried a secret cargo..” You slowly turned your head towards Sam, your eyes wide and a grin slowly spread on your face, "So, Drake was connected to Red Rakham's treasure.."

Sam returned your grin, "I'm willin' to bet that it wasn't even Red Rakham's treasure in the first place." When he saw your intrigued, yet contemplative expression, he looked at the book and pointed at a certain line, "Here. Look. When Sir Francis was questioned about the voyage, he replied with: "This treasure drowns with my bloodline and shall remain so. Only a true Drake will be able to find it.""

"The treasure belonged to Drake.." You trailed off, your eyes glued to the book, "Red Rakham's ship was the one that attacked Drake's." You concluded, sitting back and crossing your arms with an impressed nod, "And.. you found the link between him and Drake on your own.."

Sam raised a brow, closing the book, "You sound surprised." He smiled and you reciprocated it cordially, but something about it seemed too forced.

"Just take the compliment."

He stared at you for a couple of seconds, his smile faltering. You noticed it. How his eyes lowered to look at the carpet underneath the table. He seemed to want to say something. Like an apology of some sort, but you ripped your gaze away from him before he could speak. You didn't want him to apologize. You didn't want him to say anything that would remind you of the man you used to love. That was the last thing you needed.

Sam put the book to the side and cleared his throat, getting up from his chair and walking over to the dresser to retrieve a rolled up newspaper from there quietly, and walked back to the table to put it in front of you, "That's our next stop."

You raised a brow up at him and grabbed the paper, opening it to the front page, your eyes immediately landing on an announcement that there was an auction held near your district, which brought unpleasant memories to you, "The Bedford estate auction.." You muttered.

"Mm-hmm." His finger hovered over the page and he tapped at the auctioned items list, "Look here. Sound familiar?"

You squinted your eyes and read over the line he pointed at, "Battleship model, seventeenth century, reign of Charles the second.." You trailed off and inhaled deeply, leaving the newspaper and sitting back to look at him, "You do remember what happened the last time we went into an auction uninvited, don't you?" You asked him, an uninterested look on your face.

He smirked and nodded his head, resting his hands on the back of your chair, "Sure, but this time is gonna be different."

"How come?"

"We're invited." He wiggled his brows once, like he just let you in on the most dangerous, tempting secret in the world.

Your brows pulled together in confusion, "What?" You shook your head, "How?"

He sighed and turned his back to you, walking over to his bed, "I'll fill you in on the way." He then removed the white, signature hotel duvet, only to reveal a whole set of guns from different calibers, small boxes of bullets, extra magazines. Your eyes widened for a split second at the view and you looked up at Sam as he turned to you, his hands on his hips and a stupid grin on his face, "You still remember how to handle those?"

"Jesus!" You exclaimed, practically jumping from the chair and taking wide steps towards the bed to take a closer look at the weapons, "What— How did you even get those in here?"

Sam pushed his hands in his pockets, "Had to grease a few palms." He shrugged nonchalantly, sending you a calm smile.

"Why do we even need those?!" You whisper-shouted, behind clenched teeth, your eyes wide and crazed.

He rolled his eyes, "You do remember what happened the last time we went into an auction, right?"

"You said we were invited!"

"Never said I had the money for bidding." He retorted quickly.

You threw your hands up in frustration with a humourless laugh, "Well, of course not! You wasted it all on those!" You argued, gesturing to the guns on his mattress.

"Uh, no. First of all, those were already in my possession–" You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth to speak but he beat you to it, "Second of all, you're gonna need to be more lenient and cooperative or else we're gonna end up dead. Those people don't mess around."

Your eyes widened, "What?" You watched him walk past you and to the body mirror, buttoning up his shirt silently. You followed him and stood right behind him, "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Sam did his bowtie silently and ran a hand through his hair, glancing at you through the mirror. He then stopped completely and hummed, narrowing his eyes.

"Samuel–"

He stepped behind you, grabbing your upper arms and letting you see your reflection, his chest pressed against your back and his eyes roaming your body through the mirror, "You don't happen to have a pretty lil' red dress, do you?"

You snorted a laugh of disbelief, "What?"

His hands came up to hold your hair and twirl it in his hands, holding it into a low, messy bun, "That oughta show some skin, too.." He muttered, studying your pretty face that was hidden by your loose hair, "You didn't answer me." He reminded you.

You shook your head in confusion, "I.. do, but–"

"Perfect." He stepped away from you to go over to his wardrobe, pulling his black suit jacket from the hanger, throwing it on his shoulder and letting it drape there, "Wear your hair like I just showed you and put it on." He instructed you before tilting his head and reaching into his pocket for a cigarette, "And – y'know – doll up a bit." He put it in his mouth and lit it, narrowing his eyes at you as he took a drag.

You scoffed, watching him turn away and open the door to leave, "Sam!" You yelled for him as he slipped outside, and he stopped to look at you.

"Yep?" He looked over his shoulder and you swore you could see a smirk play on his lips.

You gave him an incredulous look, "Is there something you're not telling me?!" You repeated, slower and louder in case he didn't quite catch you.

His lips slowly curled up to a smile, his cigarette still held between them. He then glanced at the bed full of weapons and back at you, "Pick something inconspicuous, will ya? I'll be waitin' for you on the sidewalk."

"Sam!–"

He shut the door and left you in your predicament, making you growl out in utter and absolute frustration, your fists clenched and your breathing uneven.

And you wondered if this was all a plot of revenge from the older Drake for the way you treated him in Libertalia.

_____________

#sam drake x reader #samuel drake #sam drake #uncharted fluff #uncharted #sam drake fanfiction #uncharted4 #naughty dog #peakymarvels

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owengrantham · 3 years ago

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newstfionline · 4 years ago

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Friday, October 30, 2020

U.S. refugee admissions (Foreign Policy) The number of refugees allowed into the United States in the coming year will be at its lowest level in modern times, after the White House announced just 15,000 refugees would be allowed settle in the country next year. According to a White House memo, 5,000 of those places will go to refugees facing religious persecution, 4,000 are reserved for refugees from Iraq who helped the United States, and 1,000 for refugees from El Salvador, Guatemala, and Honduras; 5,000 open slots remain, although refugees from Somalia, Syria, and Yemen are banned unless they can meet special humanitarian criteria. The future of U.S. refugee policy hangs on Tuesday’s vote: Former Vice President Joe Biden has promised to increase annual refugee admissions to 125,000, while the Guardian reports that a second Trump administration would seek to slash such admissions to zero.

Days From Election, Police Killing of Black Man Roils Philadelphia (NYT) There is a grim familiarity to it all. In the final days of a bitter election, it is a reprise of the terrible images that the country has come to know all too well this year: The shaky cellphone video, the abrupt death of a Black man at the hands of the police. The howls of grief at the scene. The protests that formed immediately. The looting of stores that lasted late into the night. It began on Monday, when two officers confronted Walter Wallace Jr., a 27-year-old with a history of mental health problems. A lawyer for the family said that he was experiencing a crisis that day and that the family told officers about it when they arrived at the scene. In an encounter captured in video that appeared on social media, Mr. Wallace is seen walking into the street in the direction of the officers, who back away and aim their guns at him. Someone yells repeatedly at Mr. Wallace to “put the knife down.” The officers then fire multiple rounds. After Mr. Wallace falls to the ground, his mother screams and rushes to his body. Mr. Wallace later died of his wounds at a nearby hospital, and the neighborhood exploded in rage. In the days since, dozens have been arrested, cars have been burned and 53 officers have been hurt. On Tuesday, Gov. Tom Wolf called in the National Guard. On Wednesday, the city declared a 9 p.m. curfew. And once again, the people in the neighborhood where it all took place were left to consider what had happened and what, if anything, could be done about it.

Zeta soaks Southeast after swamping Gulf Coast; 6 dead (AP) Millions of people were without power and at least six were dead Thursday after Hurricane Zeta slammed into Louisiana and made a beeline across the South, leaving shattered buildings, thousands of downed trees and fresh anguish over a record-setting hurricane season. From the bayous of the Gulf Coast to Atlanta and beyond, Southerners used to dealing with dangerous weather were left to pick up the pieces once again. In Atlanta and New Orleans, drivers dodged trees in roads and navigated intersections without traffic signals. As many as 2.6 million homes and businesses lost power across seven states, but the lights were coming back on slowly. The sun came out and temperatures cooled, but trees were still swaying as the storm’s remnants blew through. Louisiana Gov. John Bel Edwards said the state sustained “catastrophic” damage on Grand Isle in Jefferson Parish, where Zeta punched three breaches in the levee. Edwards ordered the Louisiana National Guard to fly in soldiers to assist with search and rescue efforts and urged continued caution.

Violent criminal groups are eroding Mexico’s authority and claiming more territory (Washington Post) Organized crime here once meant a handful of cartels shipping narcotics up the highways to the United States. In a fundamental shift, the criminals of today are reaching ever deeper into the country, infiltrating communities, police forces and town halls. A dizzying range of armed groups—perhaps more than 200—have diversified into a broadening array of activities. They’re not only moving drugs but kidnapping Mexicans, trafficking migrants and shaking down businesses from lime growers to mining companies. It can be easy to miss how much the nation’s criminal threat has evolved. Mexico is the United States’ No. 1 trading partner, a country of humming factories and tranquil beach resorts. But despite 14 years of military operations—and $3 billion in U.S. anti-narcotics aid—criminal organizations are transforming the Mexican landscape: In a classified study produced in 2018 but not previously reported, CIA analysts concluded that drug-trafficking groups had gained effective control over about 20 percent of Mexico, according to several current and former U.S. officials. / Homicides in the last two years have surged to their highest levels in six decades; 2020 is on track to set another record. Mexico’s murder rate is more than four times that of the United States. / Hundreds of thousands of people have fled their homes to escape violence; the Mexican Congress is poised to pass the country’s first law to help the internally displaced. / More than 77,000 people have disappeared, authorities reported this year, a far larger total than previous governments acknowledged. It is the greatest such crisis in Latin America since the “dirty wars” of the 1970s and 1980s. / The State Department is urging Americans to avoid travel to half of Mexico’s states, tagging five of them as Level 4 for danger—the same as Syria, Afghanistan and Iraq. President Andrés Manuel López Obrador has created a 100,000-member national guard to reclaim areas with little state presence. It’s not clear that will make a significant difference. Years of Mexican and U.S. strategy—arresting drug kingpins, training Mexican police, overhauling the justice system—have failed to curb the violence.

Many Cubans hope US election will lead to renewed ties (AP) Not so long ago the tables at Woow!!! restaurant in Havana were filled with tourists ordering mojitos and plates of grilled octopus. But as President Donald Trump rolled back Obama-era measures opening Cuba relations, the restaurant grew increasingly empty. Now entrepreneurs like Orlando Alain Rodríguez are keeping a close eye on the upcoming U.S. presidential election in hope that a win by Democratic challenger Joe Biden might lead to a renewal of a relationship cut short. “The Trump era has been like a virus to tourism in Cuba,” said Rodríguez, the owner of Woow!!! and another restaurant feeling the pinch. Few countries in Latin America have seen as dramatic a change in U.S. relations during the Trump administration or have as much at stake in who wins the election. Former President Barack Obama restored diplomatic relations, loosened restrictions on travel and remittances and became the first U.S. chief of state to set foot in the island in 88 years. The result was a boom in tourism and business growth on the island. Trump has steadily reversed that opening, tapping into the frustrations of a wide segment of the Cuban American community that does not support opening relations while a communist government remains in power. He put into effect part of a previously suspended U.S. law that permits American citizens to sue companies that have benefited from private properties confiscated by the Cuban government, put a new cap on remittances, reduced commercial flights and banned cruises. The president has also forbidden Americans from buying cigars, rum or staying in government-run hotels. A Trump reelection would likely spell another four years of tightened U.S. sanctions while many expect a Biden administration to carry out at least some opening.

Winter gloom settles over Europe (Washington Post) The clocks were dialed back an hour across Europe this week, and the long nights come early now. The hospitals are filling up, as the cafes are shutting down. Governments are threatening to cancel Christmas gatherings. As new coronavirus infections surge again in Europe, breaking daily records, the mood is growing dark on the continent—and it’s not even November. The reprieve of summer feels a long time ago, and Europe is entering a serious funk. Germany and France announced national lockdowns Wednesday to try to get the virus under control. The new measures are less restrictive than in the spring, and yet they face more resistance. People are no longer so willing to remain confined to their homes, venturing onto balconies in the evenings to applaud health-care workers. Many people remain scared of covid-19, but they are exhausted and frustrated—and growing angry and rebellious. In a sign of the times, the head of the World Health Organization recognized the “pandemic fatigue that people are feeling” but urged “we must not give up.” The smugness in Europe about having bested the Americans under President Trump is fading with the daily record-breaking counts.

Young and Jobless in Europe: ‘It’s Been Desperate’ (NYT) Like millions of young people across Europe, Rebecca Lee, 25, has suddenly found herself shut out of the labor market as the economic toll of the pandemic intensifies. Her job as a personal assistant at a London architecture firm, where she had worked for two years, was eliminated in September, leaving her looking for work of any kind. Ms. Lee, who has a degree in illustration from the University of Westminster, sent out nearly 100 job applications. After scores of rejections, and even being wait-listed for a food delivery gig at Deliveroo, she finally landed a two-month contract at a family-aid charity that pays 10 pounds (about $13) an hour. “At the moment I will take anything I can get,” Ms. Lee said. “It’s been desperate.” The coronavirus pandemic is rapidly fueling a new youth unemployment crisis in Europe. Young people are being disproportionately hit, economically and socially, by lockdown restrictions, forcing many to make painful adjustments and leaving policymakers grasping for solutions. Years of job growth has eroded in a matter of months, leaving more than twice as many young people than other adults out of work. The jobless rate for people 25 and under jumped from 14.7 percent in January to 17.6 percent in August. Europe is not the only place where younger workers face a jobs crunch. Young Americans are especially vulnerable to the downturn. In China, young adults are struggling for jobs in the post-outbreak era. But in Europe, the pandemic’s economic impact puts an entire generation at risk, according to the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development.

3 dead in church attack, plunging France into dual emergency (AP) A man armed with a knife attacked people inside a French church and killed three Thursday, prompting the government to raise its security alert status to the maximum level hours before a nationwide coronavirus lockdown. The attack in Mediterranean city of Nice was the third in two months in France that authorities have attributed to Muslim extremists, including the beheading of a teacher. It comes during a growing furor over caricatures of the Prophet Muhammad that were republished in recent months by the satirical newspaper Charlie Hebdo—renewing vociferous debate in France and the Muslim world over the depictions that Muslims consider offensive but are protected by French free speech laws. Other confrontations and attacks were reported Thursday in the southern French city of Avignon and in the Saudi city of Jiddah, but it was not immediately clear if they were linked to the attack in Nice.

Germany does not believe Thai king has breached state business ban: source (Reuters) Germany does not believe that Thailand’s king has so far breached its ban on conducting politics while staying there, a parliamentary source said on Wednesday, after lawmakers were briefed by the government. Following a meeting of the Bundestag’s foreign affairs committee, the source said the government had briefed lawmakers that it believes the king is permitted to make occasional decisions, as long as he does not continuously conduct business from German soil. When asked about the status of the king, the government told the committee he has a visa that allows him to stay in Germany for several years as a private person and also enjoys diplomatic immunity as a head of state. Thailand’s political crisis has made the king’s presence a challenge for Germany, but revoking the visa of a visiting head of state could cause a major diplomatic incident.

China’s New Confidence on Display (Foreign Policy) The Chinese leadership is currently meeting in Beijing to set economic and political goals for the next five years. In the run-up to the plenum, speeches by President Xi Jinping and others have demonstrated a bold confidence that this is China’s moment. As economic policymaker Liu He put it, “Bad things are turning into good ones.” Despite the damage to China’s global reputation this year, its leaders seem to believe that Western economic weakness and mishandling of the coronavirus have created opportunities. That may be true, but it may also encourage dangerous overconfidence, as happened in 2009, when the Chinese leadership was convinced the economic crisis had significantly weakened Washington. That overconfidence is most frightening when it comes to Taiwan, where recent saber-rattling has again raised the specter of an invasion. Distinguishing signal from noise on Taiwan is difficult, but the traditional restraints on Chinese military action—fear of U.S. intervention, reputational damage, and corruption inside the People’s Liberation Army—have weakened. The odds of Chinese action in Taiwan increase if the U.S. election doesn’t produce a clear result, or if a lame duck President Donald Trump embarks on a scorched-earth program on his way out—since Beijing may be convinced that a distracted Washington has no will to block it.

#headlines #news

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kny-secret-santa2019 · 5 years ago

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Hi @seicchan-art @you-are-so-perfect-that-i and I’m your secret santa! I hope my fic is at least fit with your request and that you’ll enjoy it! It’s been a long time since I made any fic so my skill kinda rusty “-v-

KNY secret santa tumblr

Ship: Shinobu/Mitsuri

Prompt: Fluff/domestic, cuddling by the fireplace

____________________________________________________________________________________

In this dark night, snowflakes were falling down from the sky to the ground like autumn leaves. The ground had been painted white thanks from the snow. Glittering stars that shine in the dark canvas of night sky likes jewels from the treasure chest. All the trees have no more green leaves on their branches, except hanging icicles that reflected like mirrors. Every houses and building were decorated with string of colorful neon lights from red to green. There’s even few small Christmas tree that had been beautify with variety looks of decoration ranging from the lights, dolls and shiny balls. Despite the late night, there were few individuals and couples who still walked in the midst of street, bundled themselves with scarves and thick coat.

Among the sea of people, a young woman in purple with butterfly hairpin was walking back to her home. In her hand, there’s a plastic bag with a symbol of a famous bakery not far from her places. The idea of having this cake as a dessert later with her girlfriend put a smile on her face.

She went through a few corners from the train station to her neighborhood in her route. She greeted ‘Merry Christmas’ to an old lady as she passed some small shops and houses. When she finally arrived at a small house, she knocked the door of the house a few times and unlocked the door herself.

“Mitsuri-chan, I’m home~”.

“Welcome home, Shinobu-chan~”

A young woman with her pink/green-haired tied up in two braid answered her. She had an apron over her chest and behind her, the table already filled with simple yet definitely delicious dinner.

The woman, Shinobu-chan, smiled warmly at the sight of Mitsuri-chan. She gave her girlfriend a slight peck on her cheek before taking off her coat and put them over the hanger not far from the door.

Mitsuri looked down and saw the plastic bag that Shinobu brought home, then squealed giddily as she picked them up and investigated the content. As she expected, there’s a cake box with the symbol of her favorite bakery.

“When did you buy the cakes from Kamado’s?!” Mitsuri asked with such joy.

“On the way home from work, they were having an offer during Christmas time,” Shinobu explained. She knew that Mitsuri would be ecstatic to have them.

“I’ve been craving for them, thank you so much Shinobu-chan!” Mitsuri pulled her petite girlfriend into a tight embrace. She was too excited that she did not noticed of her own strength and that Shinobu was having slight trouble in breathing because of her chest. Thank goodness it did not last that long as she finally let her go.

“I’ll keep them in the fridge first. Let’s have dinner here. I already made your favorite,” Mitsuri said as she took out the box from the plastic bag and placed them inside the refrigerator “Later on we could cuddle and watch something on Netflix?”

“Sounds nice,” Shinobu really likes that plan. The two of them had been busy with their own work lately and it just today that Mitsuri happen to have half-day at her workplace. They were lucky that tomorrow is Christmas and their boss were kind enough to give their worker a day off on this festivity. Tonight, they could just wind off from their fatigue and have it easy together.

During dinner, they talked and shared stories on how their day goes by. Mitsuri had been wondering if Kanao-chan and Aoi-chan, Shinobu’s junior, had been doing well at their new workplace. Shinobu laughed hearing the shenaniganry and humorous banter between Shinazugawa-san and Tomioka-san. Shinobu also talked about her big sister, Kanae-san, was making a new type of medicine at their pharmacy. Mitsuri delightfully shared to Shinobu about her current work in progress for her latest illustration and believed she could finish them in no time.

Cheerful laughter and experiences were exchanged on this table and before they knew it, their plates were already empty and there’s only a sip left in their drink.

“Oh, let me clean up this table for you,” Shinobu wanted to stop Mitsuri from picking any of these plates “You already did the dinner so I should be the one handling this,”.

“Nope!” however, Mitsuri shook her head and refused that offer with closed eyes and wide smile “I know you’re tired from work, so let me handle the rest. After all, I’m the one who prepared the food earlier, right? So, let me be the one to clean up this mess,”.

“But— “

“If you wanna help, why don’t you start the fire at fireplace?” Mitsuri tilted her head slightly at the mentioned household object “Get our spot warm and cozy when we’re watching some shows or movies, how about that?”

“Huh… okay,” unable to refute against Mitsuri’s wish, Shinobu could only sighed with a weak smile, yet her eyes stared fondly to her partner. Mitsuri always like that, so honest and helpful. It’s hard to ignore her request with her smile that could shine even in the darkest room.

Shinobu took a match not far from her and lit it up. She threw them into the pile of wood and let them burn. After tending it a bit to adjust the fire, it was finally small and warm enough for the room. Once she was done, she crouched closely to the fireplace and placed both of her open palm nearby. The warmth soothes her cold body that she could not helped herself from taking a long breath in relax manner.

She wanted to stay a bit longer when suddenly, a thick comforter covered her body from behind out of nowhere. The surprise contact pulled Shinobu back to reality from her headspace. She turned around and saw Mitsuri was standing behind with a pair of mugs.

“I made hot cocoa,” Mitsuri lifted those mugs slightly “And Netflix is already on. Why don’t you come with me to the couch, so we drink these while watching some sappy stuff about Christmas?”

“Why, if I don’t know any better, I might be thinking that you’re jealous of this fireplace for getting my attention and try to get me away from it with hot cocoa and Netflix,” Shinobu teased Mitsuri with a cheeky grin. She slung the comforter over her body as carried them to the couch. Before she makes herself comfortable, she made more than enough space for Mitsuri to sit down next to her. She even threw the comforter a bit so that Mitsuri can also join her to cuddle under it together.

“I’m just rather have my girlfriend look at me instead of fire, that’s all,” Mitsuri put down both mug on the coffee table before pulling the comforter over her body and snuggled closely to Shinobu. She wondered which one is her source of warmth; the fireplace or her girlfriend? Either way, she doesn’t want to leave this spot anytime soon.

Shinobu giggled slightly before placing her head on Mitsuri’s shoulder. She took the remote control and browsed the screen for a bit. They ended up picking an old Christmas movie from the 2000’s with romance genre. When the movie started, Mitsuri took a sip from the hot cocoa and hold the mug closely to her chest.

Honestly, they could not care less what they are watching right now. This is just an excuse for them to cuddle during this cold winter. What’s a better way to spend a silent night for a couple than cuddling under the protection of their shared home?

Maybe it was around half an hour later, but Mitsuri’s ear picked up a soft snore. She turned her head slightly and her face became fond. The sight of her sleeping girlfriend with comfortable and vulnerable look made her heart melted. She must have been so weary after a whole day of work.

“Merry Chistmas, Shinobu-chan…” Mitsuri whispered softly, gently caressed her hair and kissed her forehead. She pulled her girlfriend closer and made sure the comforter covered her body mostly. She then proceeds to watch the movie on her own.

The snowflakes were getting more and more outside and the temperature gradually dropped, yet there’s nothing but love and warmness in the home of this couple who full of love.

#shinobu kochou #mitsuri kanroji #shinobu x mitsuri #shinomitsu #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #submission

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sikuzxxx · 6 years ago

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Hello all, my V-centred merch package “SURVIVOR” is finally here!

✨ORDER LINK✨

For my inspirations and detailed description of each product, please view my twitter moment Including: 📷 Photo cards (125mm*95mm) x4 ⚜️ Enamel pin set x1 ⭐️ Stickers (height 50mm) x5 🥂 Corkwood coaster (105mm diameter) x1 🤵 Polaroid photo card (86mm*72mm) x1 🎻 Transparent card (55mm*85mm) x1 📍𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 - Personal made product is non-refundable. Please think carefully before you buy. - All merch designs might be changed due to the capability with the manufacturer during the production process. We will inform any possible changes on twitter. - Pin plating may be eroded by sweat, air or other circumstances. For maintaining its condition just wipe with a soft cloth or pad. - If you have any questions or inquiries, please email to [email protected] or DM @krapnus on twitter 📍 𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐬 & 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 - All merchs are 100% hand-made, and may cause fine scratches, dust or small air bubbles on stickers, cards and pins. I will double check during assembling, but some of them are inevitable. If you're sensitive on merch condition, please consider it carefully. - All merchs will be sent by tracked service, unless it gets damaged on delivery (with photo proof) or lost by the shipping company, we don't accept refund or replacement requests. - You cannot claim the design or the illustrations of the merchs as yours.

Shipping estimate: early - mid March

(due to my uni stuff I may ship them only once a week)

#Mystic Messenger #Kim Jihyun #V #my ads

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the-gunslock · 5 years ago

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Hiver 5- North, the Day After

This is the third on a 3-part story, about the day I got a date with the most beautiful girl in the world. Read the first here and the second here.

Lazy, jade-green eyes blink open, absorbing the sunlight of a silent morning. They greet an unfamiliar ceiling, completely white with a fogged glass half-sphere in the center, likely the light. The sensation on the woman’s back is soft and she is covered to her waist by a thick, rust-colored blanket. It has a pleasant, flowery smell.

Moving it off of her, the shipwright sits up and examines the room and its ice blue walls; left of the bed, the mahogany desk with various sorts of stationery, journals and scribbled notes on it; the closet to her right, a full-body mirror with lights framed around it propped next to the closet; in front of the bed, a wall with a shelf, this time with a small terrarium and some vases on top of it, and beside everything, an illustration of the Crest of Alpha Lupi propped against the wall. Beneath it sat a wooden dresser with many drawers and a little anti-grav spinning contraption.

Amanda reattaches her mechanical limb under her white pant leg and gets up to stretch her back before leaving the bedroom. Making her way to the kitchen, she looks at the island they were eating at the night before and spots a lonely plate covered by a piece of cloth and a small note. Looking around and seeing no one, she takes the note that simply says “Good morning Amanda! On the nook if you need me -Hiver” and lifts the cloth.

Beneath it sits a white plate with decorative blue edges, with a cheese and ham sandwich, a whole section of fluffy scrambled eggs and cut sausages near it. Beside the plate sat neatly aligned utensils, a recipient with sugar and a black mug filled with coffee, all of the food still steaming hot. She sat down and smiled at the breakfast her friend made, while getting ready to down everything.

“I could get used to this.” The human thought to herself, taking a bite out of her sandwich, contemplating the peace and company of the last day. She was definitely glad she stayed over. It really did feel like the home she never had.

A really good change of pace from living on the road, surviving off of food hoarding, rock pillows, and shotgun slugs.

Amanda’s parents weren’t here, as much as she wished them to; but she does have someone who cares and loves her enough to make her feel like coming back to. And she trusts Hiver enough to be there when she needs to come back.

As much as Amanda loved being Chief Shipwright, working to repair machines and supply the defenders of humanity and whatnot with ships and vehicles, there wasn’t much to her life outside of work, usually keeping her alone with her longing and not-so-good memories.

A smile crept into her face as Amanda felt the heat of the coffee mug in her hand. She turned sideways in her seat, looking at the nook where her Warlock friend resided, half-mindedly looking out of the window. As she drank her warm beverage, she silently thanked Hiver for allowing her to start something new.

Whatever that “something” may be.

After putting the dishes in the sink to wash later, the blonde pushed aside the curtain to the reading nook, admiring the view of the Awoken woman basking in the sunlight.

Beneath Hiver’s usual shy demeanor and leather-wizard-cowgirl gear, the Shipwright realized how she rarely had the chance to get a good look at what her friend looked like. Most Guardians just look like a suit of armor, with the rare un-helmeted ones.

Her strong calves beneath her thin black tights. Her skirt delicately draping over her well fleshed thighs. Her small but perky bust, smoothly enveloped by her blouse, which exposed her narrow shoulders that made a lovely curve towards her nape. Above that, her purple, asymmetrically cut hair, a good complement to her calm blue skin that flowed with near-invisible energy waves, an exotic but very interesting -- and aesthetically pleasing -- feature of the Awoken.

“In that moment she seemed as wholly luminescent as the sun… and I wished to be so brave.” Amanda quoted in her head as a cloud passed in front of the sun, dimming the natural light that shone through the windows.

“She’s beautiful.”

As if reading her mind, the Warlock turned her glowing blue eyes towards the human girl, her usual, cheerful “Good morning, Amanda!” coming out of her lips.

Her slight blush was still visible, but she smiled casually as she always would. “G’morning, Hiver”, she greeted back, opening the curtains and sitting close to the Warlock on her nook. She notices a red book with an intricate gold circle design on its cover. “Whatcha reading?”

“Ulan-Tan’s Thesis of Symmetry.” Hiver replied, handing her the book. Amanda skims it, stopping at some pages.

“The one about how Light and Darkness are both needed to maintain the balance of their forces or… something?”

Hiver nods. “Interesting read.” Amanda passes the book back to her friend. “Not sure if as dangerous as Vanguard makes it seem. Either way, how are you? Sleep well?”

“Did you carry me to bed?” Amanda asks with a smug grin. As expected, Hiver is coy about it. She always enjoyed the reaction.

“Y-yeah… I did.” Hiver replies, averting her gaze. “You dozed off on my shoulder last night, and you had a rough day soooo… I figured it would be better if you had the bed…”

“Where’d you sleep, though?”

“Couch is also a bed.”

“And ya also got the energy to get up earlier and make me a tasty breakfast like the housewife you are.”

“I-it wasn’t a big d--”

Hiver is cut off by a temperature increase on her cheek, and a slightly moist, comfortable sensation brushing against her face’s skin. Her emotions are messy as a hurricane right now, but she is certain most of them are positive, and that brings her a new form of joy.

Amanda pulls away from the kiss and leans against Hiver’s shoulder again, closing her eyes.

“Thank you, Hiver.” She said, voice as soft as cotton. “For all you do.”

The Awoken is unsure of what to do. She tries bringing her hand around Amanda’s shoulders, leading her to snuggle closer. This was the right move, then.

“Anytime you need, Amanda.” She said, lightly massaging the shipwright’s arm with her fingertips.

After a while of staying like this, Hiver musters her courage and takes the first step. “So…”

Amanda lets out a ‘hm?’, which means her curiosity was piqued. Hiver has no way out of this now.

“Today is… your day off, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

The Warlock is nervously darting her eyes back and forth, glad Amanda can’t see it since she is still on her shoulder. “Would you… like to go out? ...With me? We can… stargaze, or browse a library, or...”

She chuckles at this. “My, my. Are ya invitin’ me on a date, cowgirl?”

“...Yes?” Hiver’s voice is close to breaking, eliciting more chuckling from her blonde friend.

“Appreciate your honesty.” She gets her head up from her shoulder, holding the Warlock’s hand and rubbing its back with her thumb in an attempt to calm her nerves.

“Yep, let’s do it.” The shipwright answers, smiling brightly at Hiver’s both happy and relieved sigh and intertwining her fingers with hers.

From her pillow in the living room, after a while of pretending to be asleep, Trinity turns her eye to look at the two girls and lets out a very quiet but energetic “Hell yes!” in celebration at her girl finally growing.

#destiny 2 #destiny oc #destiny warlock #destiny fic #hiver the gunslock #amanda holliday #oc x canon

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