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fanaticsnail · 1 year ago

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You Kissed the Clown? Part 3

So this story in my mind is getting slightly out of hand. I didn't mean for it to get this long, but it seriously hit me like a leaf blower full of refined glitter.

Part 2 is located back here.

Upon setting sail to embark on the journeying voyage to obtain a figure-headed boat, you and your three travelling companions found yourself in ‘Syrup-Village’, a relatively small town with a large port filled with beautifully crafted vessels.

You held a certain apprehension of commencing your combat training under the instruction of a swordsman, as you yourself had no desire to educate yourself on the many ways of ending another life. Zoro originally began your training with relentless administrations, instructing you to train your body to instinctively reach for a weapon and attack an opponent. It was only when Nami interrupted one of your sessions to interject, suggesting defensive maneuvers be on the agenda primarily and anything else was to be an afterthought.

At this suggestion, you released a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were withholding. You had only ever wanted to use your hands to hone your craft as a jeweller – never to cause great violence, only repair what's broken, appraise what's worth appraising and create crafts of fine make using delicate and hard to obtain metals and gemstones. Although, as a part of a newly formed pirate crew, you understood the many dangers you would come to face at the hands of marines, enemy pirates and bounty hunters.

Your defensive training was far easier to manage; Nami taking over a few of your sessions on the way to syrup village in exchange for you appraising the vast number of treasures she had acquired on her journeys. Your eyes widened slightly and your brow quirked at the sheer number of gemstones, gold and silver. You noticed several items were in need of repair, which you offered to undertake for her to increase its value in trade for her combat training.

As you docked your small vessel into port, you met with a man who introduced himself as Usopp. Immediately your hair stood on edge as he began to relay tall tales of his undertakings as a pirate captain. This response was affectionately dubbed by your siblings as your “bullshit radar”, which came in useful when a merchant you were dealing with would attempt to sell to you any counterfeit goods.

It was only when he exclaimed he could set up a meeting with the owner of the docks that you sensed truth in his statements.

“I think that was the only amount of honesty he had spoken all day,” you said, turning your head to your orange-haired navigator. She chuckled slightly at your comment before you all began your journey following Usopp to meet with ‘his boss’.

"Here, my dear tinkerer and creator of fine trinkets," Nami said suddenly, handing you a small trinket from the palm of her hand to yours, "do you think you could fix this for me?"

You looked at the small mechanical wonderment in your hands, noting several pieces were dislodged, the silver had began to tarnish and some pieces were missing. The affectionate words and titles you shared between your fellow comrade was nothing unfamiliar to you, as you were the one to begin doting on your crew with these types of names. You were, however, surprised when they started throwing affectionate titles your way in response.

"I will give it my best, my darling navigator," you said in response, your brows creasing together as you began to truly assess the damage to this particular item. Zoro snickered at the banter between you two, as the now five of you commenced on your merry way under the guidance of your newest found friend.

You decided to walk in the middle of your troop, Usopp leading your captain who was following quickly behind him; you walking alone in the middle of the group, leaving Nami and Zoro at the rear to continue to banter with one another. You barely paid attention to your surroundings, choosing to fix your gaze on one small trinket Nami had given you to repair. Ever so often, you would feel a hand belonging to Nami clasp your shoulder and navigate you back onto the path following behind Usopp and Luffy.

You felt Nami’s firm hand gripping your shoulder to hold you in place, as two figures came into view. You chose to focus entirely on the task, noting the small cogs within this piece you were repairing were becoming more difficult to work with. This piece was a particularly ornate compass with a decorative clock-face with small cogs, springs and intricate leavers within. You had worked with pieces similar in the make as this one, but never on the road without your full arsenal of equipment at your beck and call. You were forcing a small cog into its place interconnecting to a lever when you felt your hand slip slightly, the piece falling to the gravel floor littering the ground with silver, bronze and gold cogs.

“Blast!” you exclaimed in frustration as the pieces slipped beneath your fingers. You dropped yourself to your knees the gravel road beneath you and began picking at the many cogs, springs and leavers on the ground – struggling to find the hands of the clock and compass.

“Nami, my absolute beautiful and cherished darling,” you suddenly exclaimed in annoyance, “this particular piece, as stunning as it is, is in a state that is completely beyond my abilities. I’m going to need a work bench, some oil, some better tweezers, screws, nuts, bolts, a red hot poker, soldering metal, a blackened glass visor, a large magnifying glass, all of the pieces I dropped and a bloody stiff drink to get all of this done.”

You heard a small giggle from directly ahead, bringing your attention to the two figures ahead for the first time since you stopped.

“Klahadore, can you please help her find the cogs. I will be fine here for a moment,” the small, white-blonde haired woman asked the dark-haired man next to her. He adjusted his glasses with the palm of his hand, reluctantly released her from interlacing her hand within his inner arm and prowled over to the place you were kneeling on the ground.

“Thank you, miss,” you deeply bowed to the lady, before offering a sincere smile to the man before you.

“How many pieces are we searching for, my lady?” the man almost purred at you. Taken slightly aback by his tone, you creased your brows together and slightly cringed your lips.

“Thirty-seven cogs, three needlepoint clock arms and four small springs. I’ve managed to collect the bulk of the clock, but the smaller items seem to escape me,” you responded sheepishly. He shut his eyes in response and sharply inhaled through his nose before reopening his eyes and used his gloved fingertips to search through the rubble to find the pieces you needed.

“After you collect your pieces, Klahadore will bring you to rejoin your crew in the guest quarters,” the woman said with a warm smile.

“Miss Kaya,” the man in front of you turned slightly to face his mistress, “I will escort you back to the castle and rejoin our tinkering guest once you are settled inside,” you noticed the way he addressed you had you set a little on edge, hair pricking up slightly on the back of your neck.

“Please,” you interrupted, pulling his gaze back to you, “I truly have no need for assistance. I’ll locate the pieces I dropped, and I am more than capable of locating you or another attending member of the household staff once I’ve found them all.” You smiled at the man you knew as Klahadore, which he gave a slight smirk and curt nod in response before standing to his feet and extending his gloved hand towards you; which contained thirty-six cogs, all clock arms and three small springs.

“Thank you, Mister Klahadore,” you nodded, accepting the pieces from him and placing them into a small satchel you attached to your hip. You then turned your gaze to locate the two remaining pieces of the item, which was a task you appeared to not be up to undertaking with much success.

As your crew, Kaya, Klahadore and the two other members of staff retreated to the main building; you released a hiss from between your teeth in frustration.

For another hour, you remained on your knees searching for a single small spring and the one remaining cog before you felt something watching you. You turned your head to search for the source of the uncomfortable gaze, finding nothing in your field of vision. You felt slightly unnerved by the feeling, choosing to crease your brows and abandon any hope of maintaining your dignity as you lay face down on the gravel road. You brought your eyes within an inch of the road beneath you, rolling up your sleeves and collecting your skirts beneath you to enable free your movement as you searched.

You heard a small, curt cough from behind you; forcing your whole body to jolt upwards in response and turn to face the source of the noise. Your eyes met with Klahadore’s dark ones, while you stood to your feet and dusted your skirts off.

“Forgive me, lady tinkerer,” he said with a small smile, adjusting his glasses with the ball of his palm, “it appears two pieces from the floor found their way onto the soles of my shoes. I was only just now alerted to their presence and thought to return them to you.”

He extended his hand towards you, and sure enough with the two pieces you spent the past hour on your hands, knees and face searching for on the dusty road below you. You sharply breathed in through your nose in an attempt to mask your frustration before smiling and extending your hand towards the butler to collect the missing pieces.

“Thank you, Mister Klahadore,” you managed to say with no amount of malice present, although you absolutely felt the rage slightly bubble in your chest. You collected the pieces from his outstretched hand once more and placed them into the pouch at your belt hilt. He then turned his back to you and extended his elbow out to you as an indication for you to take it. You creased your brows in thought momentarily before apprehensively reaching your arm out to take it.

“How long have you been in the antiquity restoration business?” he asked you as he led you towards the large mansion. You smiled at his question before responding.

“Longer than many would give me credit for,” you replied with a small smile toying at the corner of your lips, “although that particular piece is proving to be more difficult to repair on the seas than the workshop I am accustomed to working in.”

He hummed slightly, arching his eyebrow at your response. A small silence fell between you before he again spoke.

“And if I was to have a heavily lit workspace made for you within these walls, would you be so kind as to accept repairing something for me if I was to ask it of you?” he quirked towards you, “discretely, of course.”

You furrowed your brows at the question, noting a small amount of malice behind his enquiry. You held your tongue, searching for the kindest way to phrase your next few words.

“I take your silence as a declination of undertaking such a task,” he sighed slightly, reaching his palm up to readjust his glasses once more.

“Not necessarily,” you quirked in response, “I would be interested in providing my skills for you and the lady of the house, sure enough. I am just a little apprehensive as to what type of discretion I am to provide alongside my services.”

You craned our head up to look at the man at your side, prompting him to look down to you slyly out of the corner of his eye.

“It is a sentimental piece from my past,” he responded, leading you up the external stairs of the mansion slowly, “and I would not like to disclose my past to my current employer.”

You nodded your head and furrowed your brows, pursing your lips slightly at the question.

“A mechanical, retractable weapon then?” you uttered almost inaudibly to him, prompting him to halt in leading you further within the walls of the mansion and swiftly turning to face you with wide eyes.

“An excellent deduction, tinkerer,” he responded, “valuable only in sentimentality, of course. I would never intend to use it in my service to Miss Kaya.”

You hummed in response, holding the gaze of the man beside you. Every alarm in your body felt like it was blaring at the same time, screaming at the dangerous aura erupting from the man next to you. You felt the similar feeling of being watched once more, alerting you that the earlier feeling did not belong to this shifty individual in front of you.

You had dealt with many unnerving individuals in the past alongside your father, mother and siblings back at the shop, the latest under your belt being Captain "Axe-Hand" Morgan. Although they never threatened you with harm, nor those within your inner circle, you did feel a slight more lean towards lawful undertakings. Being so far from the comforts of home, you felt as if you had no choice but to accept this task.

"I accept the job, Mister Klahadore," you declared as he continued to lead you through the many halls of the wide mansion. You noticed him smirk slightly at your acceptance before clearing his throat with a small cough and readjusting himself as he led you to the correct wing.

“I will have a space made for you after you bathe and join my mistress for dinner,” he smirked at you before halting your journey in front of two wide double-doors you presumed were the guest quarters your companions were being housed in. You noticed your swordsman companion was walking in naught but a robe while carrying his three swords over his shoulders down the hall towards the door you found yourself and Klahadore standing in front of.

Releasing your hand from its spot on his inner elbow, he used his other gloved hand to claim your fingertips with his own, cradling them slightly with his thumb. He bowed his head slightly to you and brought your hand closer to his face.

“Until the later hours,” Klahadore murmured with a sly smirk, raising your hand to capture your knuckles in a brisk whisper of a kiss. You immediately felt an unnerving amount of alarm bells clatter throughout every fibre of your being at this gesture, but hoped your face did not relay any discomfort.

He brought your hand down from its place against his lips and released it from his grasp, turning on his way you assume to be directing the household to prepare the meals for you and your companions.

“My, my, my,” Zoro uttered from behind you, “ moving on to the Butler now?”

You tensed slightly at his comment, knowing exactly how this would look to your green-haired companion.

"It's not like that," you said through gritted teeth, bringing the hand that was once pressed against the lips of Klahadore and smudging your thumb over the place he pressed his lips onto.

"First the jester, now the butler. Moving up in the world, sweetheart. Proud of you," he taunted you in a monotonous tone.

“Not. A. Word,” you said, pausing between each syllable as you turned to face your companion.

He raised his hands in front of him defensively with a sly and mischievous smile. You hardened your expression and made to open the doors you assumed containing the remainder of your travelling companions. As you pushed on the door, you heard Zoro suck in a large breath from behind you. Before you could make to stop him, he began his loud declaration of what he thinks he just witnessed.

“She kissed the Butler!” he professed to your other two companions, prompting their heads to snap up and acknowledge your presence. You stopped in your movements, Zoro pushing past you and laughing with your captain and navigator.

“Seriously?” Luffy laughed and sprung to his feet, “you kissed him too?”

You felt heat radiating from your body in sheer embarrassment. You knew your face would be beet red at the comment.

“Absolutely not,” you responded, “I was merely accepting a job repairing a sentimental item that belongs to him.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Zoro taunted with a small smirk adorning his face, "do you accept all jobs with a kiss, or is it just the unsettling weirdos?"

You groaned in response, turning to exit the room.

“I’m going to take a bath,” you declared, turning on your heel and sauntering off into the direction where Zoro was walking from.

“Try not to kiss anyone else on the way!” Zoro called out after you, teasing your prior interaction. You felt the flush of your cheeks linger upon your face, more so slightly agitated at the thought that Zoro could couple you so readily in his mind with someone as unnerving as Klahadore.

You had absolutely no feelings of flirtatious intent towards the Butler, Klahadore. In fact, the only feeling that came over you was complete and utter unease. There was something about him that set you off, and knowing you were to repair something potentially dangerous for him did not uproot the uneasy feeling.

Walking through the vast halls, you looked at the variety of antique ornaments littering the benchtops, noting some were in desperate need of repair. You inspected a small, intricate light fixture on the countertop noting that one of the small screws was slightly loose; you took out a small screwdriver from your pouch and began to work at the little metallic piece, tightening it in its place. As you repaired it, you turned your sights onto the next item, an unusual wind up children’s toy that resembled a small mouse. You reached for it slightly, before pushing home repairs to the back of your mind by shaking your head slightly, and making your way to the bathroom to get cleaned up before dinner.

And the bathroom was beautiful. Grand ornamental brass legs held a large bath, filled with slightly murky water you assume belonged to the swordsman. You snarled a little at his bad manners before pulling up the sleeves of your blouse and reaching an arm into the lukewarm bathing liquid. Being a large and deep bath, you felt your blouse begin to get soaked as you attempted to reach the chain attached to the end of the plug to release it from its hold on the drain. A typhoon was created, pooling the unclean bathwater above the drain and emptying the water from the porcelain container with an almost howl-like groan.

Entranced by the spinning liquid as it left the water, you began to think about the battle as it was described to you by your captain between himself, Zoro, Nami and Buggy. The chop-chop fruit apparently, from their description, allows him to carve off a piece of himself and reattach it at will with no harm coming to him.

The “chop-chop cannon” manoeuvre apparently resembled a cyclone of blades as he whirled his disassembled parts around in the air with blades protruding from every surface. You couldn’t quite picture the way it was described to you, as you had no prior experience with detached limbs and their wild movements but as the drain emptied the contents of the bath within, you felt immediately drawn to attempt to picture what that may have been like to combat against.

As this bath was filled to the brim with liquid, you noted it was taking quite a while to empty down the drain. To pass the time, you began readying yourself to undertake a proper wash, one you had not experienced since commencing your travelling with the mismatched troop you found yourself with.

You began humming to yourself as you located a hairbrush and raked it through to begin detangling through your locks. You started at the ends, forcing the strands to part from one another as you administered a small amount of force between strokes. You sauntered over to the sink to locate the problem you were not seeing in your hair, finding it in the mirror. As you brushed your hair, you noticed your skin had begun to tan slightly, as the exposure of the sun in your travels had darkened the pigment your skin under its rays. You leant forward in the mirror to look closely at your face, noticing a small speck of blue paint remained at the point between your jaw and your ear.

It occurred to you that not only had that speck of paint been there for several days now and not one of your companions cared to notify you of it, but the memory of the intimate connection you shared with the clown sprung back into your mind.

At that moment, five different stages of unfamiliar emotion crossed over into your mind.

“Get a hold of yourself, woman,” you said to your reflection, “it wasn’t even that good of a kiss anyhow.” You attempted to bargain with yourself, knowing full and well that this particular kiss you shared between the captain of the Buggy Pirates and yourself was one of the most true, honest and hungry embraces you had experienced with another person.

You started attacking your locks more vigorously with the brush, making your way upwards towards the roots on your scalp.

“And why would he even kiss me like that, anyway? How dare he lean in and actually lean in and enjoy it!” you angrily expressed, slamming the brush down onto the countertop beside the sink. You noticed the bath had completely emptied as you turned to rinse it with cool liquid before filling it again.

“He even had the absolute gall to moan into it, like some touch-starved animal,” you growled, looking at the variety of perfumed bottles surrounding the bathtub, uncorking them and lifting them to your nose to sample the scents before adding the desirable liquid to the bath.

“And I didn’t enjoy it that much. It’s not like I’d ever see him again,” you expressed, beginning to remove your various items of clothing and placing them to the side of the room in a folded, neat pile.

“Do I even want to see him again?” you questioned yourself, quirking your head to the side momentarily and allowing the aspect to mull over in your head for a moment, “absolutely not.”

A wave of sadness overcame you as you reflected on the expression he held in his eyes as he pulled away from your lips, still cradling you against himself and gazing almost lovingly but apprehensively into your half-lidded eyes.

You tested the water temperature with your forearm and adjusted the taps to better suit your liking. You removed the final piece of your attire and stepped into the clean, warm and lightly scented water. You relished in it engulfing your body as you held your nose and dipped yourself back into the liquid.

You removed your head from under the water as the need for air came to fruition in your chest.

“I do want to see him again,” you uttered to yourself, “I want nothing more than to see him again.”

You searched again through the vials beside you and found some cleansing foams and liquids beside you and you began to scrub at your hair, releasing the solidified particles of salt you had picked up from the seawater.

“I would do anything to have one conversation with him,” you uttered to yourself, “just to let him know that I’m not a coward at the very least.”

Again, the image of his body sauntering over to you as a predator would to their unwitting prey; hungry only for violence, death and a swift meal came before you. The shocked look in his eyes while you grasped his mustard-coloured cravat and brought him into yourself, joining your lips together in what was meant to be a swift kiss that turned into something desperate and needy at the hands of this completely unhinged man. The gentle caress, the feel of his desperate whimpers against your lips and the way your body felt ablaze under his careful administrations was so utterly foreign to you, and so completely unexpected.

Your eyes began to well up at the thought of how foreign this felt for not only you, but you could only assume the blue-haired captain. You blinked back slightly, refusing to let anything spill over and onto your cheeks as you dunked your hair again into the water.

“He could’ve been faking,” you whispered, “it could’ve all been an act, a trick to lull me into a false sense of security, only to kill me after he was done with whatever he was doing with Luffy.”

You brought your hand to the nozzle of a honey-sweet scented container and pooled some of the contents into your waiting palm. You rubbed your hands together and brought them up to your face, pressing the sticky substance into the pores of your nose, cheeks, forehead, chin, ears and finally over your eyes.

"But I know for a fact that what I was feeling was real," you exclaimed into your palms, "I could feel how much he wanted me from the way he was holding me against him."

As you closed your eyes and rubbed the foaming liquid into them, you felt the final wave of emotional apophony wash over you. You suddenly dunked your face into the pooling water below to rid your skin of the substance completely before re-emerging to the surface.

"And I want him," you whispered into the porcelain frame of the bath, "And I want him to know how much I want him."

You swiped your hand over your hair to rid it from your eyes and leant into the side of the bath as you came to terms with this new feeling arising in your chest.

“I think I’m in love with Buggy the Clown,” you confessed, unwittingly to the eyes you felt watching over you earlier. Or, more adequately framed, ear tucked cozily into one of the many unused pockets of your skirts belonging to the one and only blue-haired, painted clown captain aforementioned.

Part 4

#buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #buggy #buggy fic #captain buggy #opla buggy #OPLA fic #one piece #x reader

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seafoamreadings · 19 days ago

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week of november 10th, 2024

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: significant nodal transits this week mean all you have to do is walk, and the path appears. the full moon this week also points to (likely positive?) developments around money and your deepest core values.

taurus: the full moon this week is the yearly full moon in your sign. it can be a highly emotional time and yet, the moon is so happy in your sign that it's hard for this to go badly for you. just make sure you're meeting all your needs as much as possible.

gemini: a full moon across your 6th/12th house axis this week pushes you to integrate the multiple parts of yourself that sometimes disagree with each other. sometimes as you go about the routines of daily life it's easy to forget that you even have some of these parts. quiet introspection, especially if you can actually have the moon in view as you do so, is likely to bring about fruitful results psychologically.

cancerians: while full moons may typically have you feeling moody and broody with lots of mood swings, this week's feature in taurus is likely fun and friendly. if you're up for socializing a bit it is a fantastic time to do so, and if not, at least send off a few texts to strengthen community bonds.

leo: if you've had any changes you'd like to make at home or to your more public-facing image, this can be a good time for it. just be cognizant of mercury and mars doing their impending retrograde things.

virgo: earth energy amplifies a bit with venus into capricorn plus a taurus full moon. this is good news for you, overall, especially if you're looking for fun or a new flirtation, or if you're trying to work out an academic plan or spiritual leveling up.

libra: while the vibes are not particularly libran, your ruling planet venus is quite busy all the same, and this is broadly beneficial to you, especially in your home life and/or if you want to reconcile with a family of origin or ancestry. meanwhile a merging of households or a sharing of resources or expansion of intimacy can also be a really good move now, being mindful of course about upcoming retrogrades and possible associated hiccups.

scorpio: creative pursuits or flirtations that seemed to fizzle out in the last few months (and similar endeavors) may pop back into existence this week. you get to choose what to actually follow through with, but if you've wanted a fun fling or artistic undertaking to come back and get a little more permanent, this is the time.

sagittarius: work you've done on your inner world, like shadow work or therapy or a dream journal, starts to pay off big time with this week's full moon, in such a way you can see benefits on the earthly plane. meanwhile a household problem may begin to resolve by the end of the week - rent issues, a roommate search, repairs, etc.

capricorn: venus moves into your sign to grace you with timeless elegance, attractiveness to money, and similar. if you're seeking a charming benefactor this may also come to you in the next few weeks.

aquarius: you can let this week's full moon act as a sort of bridge between your private and public life. of course, if you want to keep these compartmentalized you can, but if it helps you to live authentically to dissolve the boundaries or just make them a little less impermeable, this is a great time for it.

pisces: make new friends and build your close-knit community. it doesn't have to spontaneously appear over night or even in a week or a month. but it is built brick by brick. place a few tetris pieces about it this week.

watch the transit posts in real time to have the best guide through your week. want a little more? have a look at my patreon or ko-fi.

check out my etsy for a private reading or dm me to set up a reading through venmo, cashapp, or paypal.

#astrology #horoscopes #weekly horoscope #horoscope #weekly horoscopes #signs #zodiac #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

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mysteryshoptls · 4 months ago

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SR Rook Hunt - Ceremonial Robes Vignette

"That rather intense moment"

[Pomefiore Dorm – Lounge]

Rook: Heh, I do so enjoy my little walks in the morning. The crisp air truly enhances the beauty of prey.

Vil: Oh, Rook. You're still dressed in your school uniform? Hurry and get changed.

Vil: Don't tell me you forgot today's ceremony? No one likes a man with no sense of time.

Rook: Of course not. There's no way I would have forgotten, Vil.

Rook: There's nothing to worry about, I will go change into my ceremonial robes right away. I still have time.

Rook: And perhaps I could undertake your signature appearance look-over, Roi du Poison, since it has been quite some time since I've been subject to one.

Vil: Do you think I would have for my Vice Housewarden someone who would require more help than the other students?

Vil: However, I will say that you should take a shower before changing if were just coming from outside.

Rook: Is that a problem? To be fair, I did not run amok or lay on the ground during today's walk.

Rook: I only exchanged some pleasant conversation with a sleepy-looking prey.

Vil: I wonder if that truly was all. Regardless, you should take a shower and rinse off all the dirt you've tracked in from the outside.

Vil: The ceremonial robes are a traditional and iconic garb of this academy, so it cannot just be worn haphazardly.

Vil: As you are to stand beside me as my Vice Housewarden during the ceremony, I will not allow for a single speck of dust to be present on your robes.

Rook: Is that also why you've mandated that I wear perfume whenever I put on these robes?

Vil: That's right. The scent you wear is just another part of your overall appearance.

Rook: Understood, I shall heed your words.

Rook: If I am to have the privilege of being the accompanying arrangement to your glorious bouquet, then even showers and perfume are a small price to pay.

[Pomefiore Dorm – Hallway]

Rook: How vexing… I had not expected the shower rooms to be out of order.

Rook: They said it would be fixed by tonight, but that would not allow me to be ready in time for the ceremony…

Floyd: Man, Pomefiore's always so sparkly. It shines just like how the ocean's surface does.

Rook: Oh, what luck… That's an Octavinelle student rounding the corner.

Rook: Bonjour, Monsieur Spontané.

Floyd: Oh hey, it's Seagull-kun.

Rook: Is that your nickname for me? It's wonderfully unique.

Rook: A gracious welcome to Pomefiore. Have you just strolled in here on a whim?

Floyd: I ain't taking a stroll, I'm doin' an errand for Azul.

Rook: I see, I see.

Rook: To tell you the truth, I am currently in a tricky bind. I was hoping to ask you for your assistance.

Floyd: Ehhh, don't wanna. I'm busy.

Rook: No need to be so cold. I have need of a shower, and yet the showers here are currently under repair.

Rook: Would I be able to utilize the Octavinelle showers?

Floyd: Huh? How should I know? And it's got nothing to do with me, if you're havin' a problem.

Rook: I beg you. At this rate, I will end up breaking my promise to Vil.

Rook: I am only asking to borrow your shower room. It shouldn't cause you any trouble.

Floyd: You just don't quit, huh. I said I don't wanna.

Rook: Hm… If I cannot attain your permission, it may not work out too well for you.

Rook: Are you still adamant in refusing me?

Floyd: Aha, you tryin' to force me to do whatcha want?

Floyd: Brave, ain'tcha? Want, you want me to squeeze you to a pulp?

Rook: Here

[spritz, spritz, spritz]

Floyd: Ack, what'dya just spray on me!? It smells weird…!

Rook: Weird is no way to describe this. Vil himself blended this special perfume for me.

Rook: Does not the musk and amber soothe you?

Rook: Well, even I have to admit that the scent is fairly strong that if I were to wear it, I would be noticed by my prey from a long distance away.

Rook: That's why I choose to only wear it when I must wear the ceremonial robes.

Floyd: Who cares about all that!? Ugh, I can't even scrub it out…!

Rook: No, I'm sure you can't. You should get changed as quick as possible. I think a bit of it got into your hair as well, so you should also take this opportunity for a shower.

Rook: Now you wouldn't be going out of your way by bringing me along to your dormitory's shower rooms anymore, wouldn't you say?

Floyd: Huh? You screwing with me?

Rook: Oh my, what a terribly ferocious glare.

Rook: I bet those sharp teeth of yours could easily tear through even the toughest fisherman's net… Fantastic!

Floyd: Bleagh… What's with this guy…? Your grin's creepin' me out. Fine, if you're gonna follow me, whatever.

Floyd: Ughhhh～ This really stinks. I'm getting' dizzy…

Rook: Heh. Well then, shall we adjourn to Octavinelle?

[Octavinelle Dorm – Lounge]

Rook: Floyd-kun, thank you for letting me use the Octavinelle showers. Dearie me, that was a saving grace.

Floyd: Maaan, that sucked. [sniff, sniff] …I think I can still smell it on me.

Rook: Heh. The scent is gone, don't worry. Looks like you were able to wash it all out.

Rook: It all worked out in the end, and you even had time to put on your robes. You're going to the ceremony as well, aren't you?

Floyd: Ugh, don't you ever shut up…?

Rook: Oh yes, while I'm here, may I finish applying my makeup?

Floyd: Makeup? You already did the stuff that goes around the eyes.

Rook: Vil's orders, you see. It isn't enough to just use liner.

Rook: I have an abundance of makeup and their respective tools to use for ceremonies… Look here, they can barely fit atop the dresser!

Floyd: Gah, that's so much.

Floyd: What, you got some weird-lookin' bottles, brushes, and pens…? What's this dark brown powder?

Rook: That would be for shading. It's used to contour the face into a more sculpted appearance.

Floyd: Uh-huh. Then, what's with this pencil-lookin' thing? Why'd you have so many different ones?

Rook: That's eyeliner. See how each one is a different color? I'll use a different one based on the type of eyeshadow I use, or where I want to draw a line.

Rook: Now then, if you'll excuse me. I need to start applying my makeup.

Floyd: Uggghh, it smells weird again.

Rook: Even so, I've chosen makeup products that have a more subdued scent.

Rook: Although, I suppose it's true that because I have an abundance of different makeup, that the more I apply, the stronger the fragrance will become…

Floyd: You don't like smelly things either, right, Seagull-kun? So why're ya goin' along with whatever Betta-chan-senpai says?

Rook: This is all to stand at Vil's side.

Rook: He is the fairest of all here at this academy…

Rook: All of this is just a small price to pay in order to be able to admire his beauty from such a premium seat.

Floyd: Uh-huh…

Rook: Heh, you seem to have taken an interest in my handiwork. Would you like to try applying some makeup?

Rook: Your mismatched eyes glow with a mysterious, unreadable glint that is truly beautiful. I'm sure makeup will only serve to enhance that.

Floyd: No way. That's a pain, anyway.

Floyd: 'Sides, it's gettin' pretty boring just watching you do stuff. Hurry and finish up, already.

Rook: Well then, I don't mind if you wish to leave me to it. I can lock up for you once I have finished.

Floyd: Nope. If I let some outsider wander around here, I'ma get an earful from Azul later.

Rook: Well, then I suppose there's no other options. You'll have to wait until I've finished.

Floyd: Whyzzat? Why don'tcha just quickly slap something on?

Rook: Beauty can only be improved by dedicating the time for it.

Rook: Oh, then what if you were to help dry my hair in the meantime?

Rook: It should shorten my time here if you were to use the hair dryer while I finish applying my makeup, wouldn't you agree?

Floyd: …What a pain… …Tch, fine. Hand me the hair dryer.

Rook: Wonderful, thank… Ack, hot!

[hair dryer blows…]

Rook: Non, non, Monsieur Spontané. I need you to regulate the temperature better.

Floyd: Huuuh, whaddya say? I can't hear ya!

[hair dryer blows…]

Rook: Ah, if the dryer is turned to its maximum setting and my hair is ruffled so, it will take longer to tame it later…

Floyd: Man, you got a lot of hair, Seagull-kun. It ain't dryin' at all.

Rook: Ah, Monsieur Spontané…! You handle me so roughly…!

Floyd: You even gotta complain about the way I'm doin' this? Shouldn't matter how I get it done, as long as it dries, right?

Rook: Aaaaah…!

Rook: [pant, pant] …Has my hair finally dried…? I never thought that rather intense moment would ever end…

Rook: …Hm?

Rook: Oh, my hair…

Rook: It's completely unruly!

Floyd: I mean, ain't it boring to just have your hair the same way all the time?

Rook: I see, this is…

Rook: Absolutely fantastic!

Rook: Neither Vil nor myself would have ever considered this style. Your innovative thinking has brought forth a new form of beauty!

Floyd: Eh, you for real?

Rook: I feel as though I've unlocked new possibilities for myself now! Thank you, Floyd-kun!

Floyd: You're so weird…

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #rook hunt #vil schoenheit #floyd leech #twst rook #twst vil #twst floyd #twst translation #mention: azul

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bullet-prooflove · 4 months ago

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The Wrong One: Dean Archer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mandy426 @chicagotrio101 @mysticcandymiracle @sweetdaytimedreams

Companion piece to The Study:

Part One: Courting Disaster - Dean realises Jack is courting you.

Part Two: Distance - Dean tries to discuss the distance between the two of you.

Part Three: Deserving - Jack tries to show you, you deserve better.

Part Four: Navy Shirt - You and Dean don't keep secrets.

Part Five: A Punch In The Face - Dean reacts badly to the news about Jack Dayton.

Part Six: Blow After Blow - Dean doesn't know how much more you can take

Part Seven: Cutting - Dean's surprised when Jack Dayton turns up on his doorstep.

You won’t speak to Dean, you can’t even look him. The silence hangs in the air as you stare out of the passenger window. Dean tries to ignore it, focusing his attention on the road instead but already he can feel the distance between the two of you growing the longer he doesn’t address the elephant in the car.

“I can’t do it.” He says finally, his gaze on the light as it turns to red. “I can’t take Sean’s kidney.”

Out the corner of his eye he sees your hands clench into tiny fists, the fabric of your dress bunching between them, creasing it.

“You made that very clear at dinner.” You say in tone that’s so devoid of emotion it makes his eyes sting.

It had been a shock for the both of you to discover that Sean’s awareness of Dean’s condition. You had no idea that Jack Dayton had gone behind your back and informed Sean that his father needed a transplant. Where you had felt hope at Sean’s offer, Dean could only feel this immense sense of guilt. He’s just started to repair the relationship between them, and this, this is far too much to ask.

“You don’t understand…” He tries to explain. “He’s just getting back on his feet, he doesn’t need this burden…”

His main concern is that the transplant will set Sean back in his recovery, that his son won’t be prepared for the physical, psychological or emotional ramifications of undertaking something this serious. He doesn’t want to be the reason his son’s life falls apart all over again.

“He wants to help.” You remind him forcefully, your knuckles turning white.

“Isobel…” He says softly. “I can’t let him do this, not after everything that’s happened between the two of us, he deserves more from me than that.”

You don’t understand what it’s like to fail someone the way that he failed Sean. He gave up on his son, abandoned him when he needed him the most. He doesn’t get to come back after fifteen years apart and ask for something that has the potential to derail his whole life again. He will not do that.

“And I don’t?” You snap and he can hear the frustration in your voice as you look at him with glossy eyes. “I don’t deserve more time with my husband? Sean doesn’t deserve more time with this father? You just make a decision and we’re both supposed to fall in line and accept it?”

“Yes.” He says tersely, staring straight ahead at the traffic light. “Because it is my body and my choice.”

“Right.” You say unfastening your seatbelt. “Well you can take your choice and shove it up your…”

He doesn’t get to hear the rest of it because you’re already shoving the car door open and stepping out into the night. The light in front of him switches to amber as he calls out your name but you’re already slamming the car door in his face.

He panics then because the last thing he wants is you wandering the streets of Chicago at eleven o’clock at night. A car horn sounds from behind him because the light has turned green and he pulls over into a side street before he launches himself out of the car and around the corner to follow of you. His heart pounds because there’s no sign of you in the pavement or anywhere else.

He spends the next hour driving around trying to find you before he heads back home, hoping you’ve cooled down. You aren’t in the apartment, the lights are still off. He checks his phone and there’s no calls or messages. To say he’s getting worried is an understatement. He tries calling again but it goes straight to voicemail. Vaguely he wonders if this is your way of teaching him a lesson but he knows you’re not like that, you don’t play games, you aren’t spiteful the way Leann was.

This tonight, it comes from a place of hurt, from desperation because your husband he’s dying and he isn’t doing a damn thing to save himself. He hasn’t been thinking really about the effect this all has on you. He’s been too busy trying to manage his life now that he’s on dialysis. The medication, the appointments, the dietary requirements, all of it is exhausting and you’ve been there every step of the way, smoothing over his rough edges, finding ways to make his life easier. He can’t imagine the emotional toll that must take on a person, how hopeless you must have felt when he refused Sean’s kidney.

It’s an hour later he gets the text telling him that you’re safe and you’re not coming home tonight. It feels like someone’s plunged a scalpel into his chest and cut out his heart because Dean can’t remember the last time the two of you spent the night apart.

When he goes to bed, he lies awake staring at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the dialysis machine as it withdraws the toxins from his kidneys. Usually on the evenings he has to use the machine, you curl up against him, with your head on his chest telling him stories about your day. He falls asleep listening to the sound of your voice.

I don’t deserve more time with my husband? Sean doesn’t deserve more time with this father?

Your words come back to haunt him as his palm comes to rest in the vacant space beside him because that’s all he wants, more time with you, more time with Sean. He can already feel it running out, ebbing away from him every day.

It’s my body and my choice, he had told you.

It’s only now as he lies there alone that Dean realises maybe he’s making the wrong one.

Love Dean? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#dean archer #dean archer x reader #chicago med #one chicago

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captainzigo · 6 months ago

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so unfortunately very few entries here are going to properly be vintage. also what i consider vintage might not line up with what you do. i am not old.

also i am not wealthy. and my family isn’t wealthy. this is an expensive hobby to have. i get most of my stuff from loving it and refusing to throw it away… and digging through the trash at university. you would be surprised with the stuff people throw away. planned obsolescence has nothing on the fact that people can’t be bothered to fix a sour harddrive.

i actually fix computers as a sort of second job. it’s nice to work on computers i can’t afford and that aren’t from the trash. but i love old tech. i love breathing life in to things long dead. i’m a technonecromancer. i am not including pictures of things i haven’t finished yet for the most part. and i simply am not including most things. this is but a fraction of my power

ok so these are all my computers that work. i didn’t include ones that im still working on. they all worked but needed repairs variously. mostly they just needed new hard drives.

my game consoles. again not including ones that don’t work. i actually bought that 3ds, but the rest my parents gave me after they got them used. that gameboy has needed a screen replacement that required soldering. the ds is my little trooper and has needed nothing ever. the wii needed a new disc drive. and the 3ds came in japanese and i hacked it to english.

there’s a back view of my stickers

these are some of my various devices. again not including ones that don’t work. that nano needed a new battery which was actual hell and i’m surprised it survived. that ipad is the first ipad and she works beautifully and one time i fastened it to my tummy for a tellytubby costume. i was slutty lala and i played the old spiderman movie trilogy in glorious VHS quality. i couldn’t find my iphone 3gs for this picture :( but it will turn up. i’ll include an old picture instead of cleaning my room to find it lol

here are some novelties i just like. thats an old radio i swiped from my great grandfather. i got it working but it broke again. i dont know whats wrong with it and its so old that the parts are impossible to find. on the right is the browser for DS which is just so quaint. i love it. it barely works at all but i loaded a wikipedia page one time so xP

this is my terrible stupid tiny phone i got from aliexpress that barely works BUT IT DOES WORK and is technically loaded with all modern smartphone features. i attached a video of it barely playing roblox

this is my og imac. with the og keyboard. i didn’t include it with the working computers because it doesn’t. the harddrive died and im trying to fix it but its really hard. i’ve already sought out two different adapters that haven’t worked

and this is a commodore 64 that i also got out of the trash. it does not work but im hoping to make it work. someone clearly loved it. enough to paint it crazy colors and enough to

write some weird scifi quote on the inside of the case under the RF shield. but maybe they died, or it just became too much of an undertaking.

not included here is:

• several more apple products that i just don’t think look good. all the iphones between 6 and 11 are just so ugly. and i don’t actually like the way apple watches look

• the phone, tablet, and smart watch i actively use

• various bits and bobs like the official speakers for a imac 4, an electronic pocket dictionary, various wii peripherals and so on

• all of my audio equipment

• my iphone 3gs. i just never found it or any pictures of it. i love it tho. it was my first phone (hand me down. i’m not that old) and i have had to repair it so many times and i love taking bad photos with it

• all of my monitors

• my many videogames

• my old fridge that i love and cherish and use

• anything i have fixed and then given to someone else

• a bunch of other stuff

so if you are a beautiful trans woman, are you in love with me yet? or do i need to make a part two

#old tech #old computers #hoarding lol

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katieaki · 5 months ago

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So, you’re interested in jumping into Pony Express but aren’t sure where to start/feel daunted by the undertaking/are freaked out about missing lore & context? Pony Express is intended to be a completely standalone work with no knowledge of my prior work necessary for enjoyment, but it has been rolling for quite a while now! Here’s some info to help you orient yourself! 💫 I recommend looking at this guide on desktop as the mobile version collapses the bullet points in a strange way.

✨ Here’s the absolute most basic summary:

Lou Primrose (30 years old, 5'0", illiterate, hardworking, 3x rodeo champion) is a rider for the Pony Express, the Wasteland's mail service. Lou has agreed to transport an unusual package from the middle of the Wasteland to the nearly uninhabited coast: a glamorous redhead named Holliday Bell. A case of mistaken identity sees Lou brutalized and disabled by religious assassin from the church of Johnny Knives (god of death) Reckoning "Artie" Tehachapi, who attempts to atone for her wrongdoing by serving Lou until she's healed. Together (for better or worse) the three of them head toward the ocean through unknown and dangerous territory.

This work is erotic in nature 🔞 with some violence and survival-type gore.

✨ If you’re totally new here, you might have some questions. Here’s a super quick primer under the cut!

What’s up with The Wasteland?

The Wasteland is a post-apocalyptic, non-dystopian society in the former American southwest. It has been several generations since the civilization Before (that’s us, or maybe like... our grandparents) was decimated. Nobody is particularly interested in the whys or hows of the collapse, though it seems that environmental disaster & earthquakes were the main factor.

It’s a series of towns, shrines, convents, and monasteries. Quite a lot of it is in repurposed buildings from Before (imagine Route 66-style gas stations, diners, and motels, all heavily repaired) and some of it is kind of ramshackle old-west-y new builds.

God of Death, religious assassins, churches– what’s up with all that? I’m afraid, sounds lore-y.

Wasteland society is heavily structured around the two churches of the gods of life & sorrow (The Listening Lady) and death & justice (Johnny Knives), who are married, immortal, and absolutely real. They live apart from the mortals, but they do live in the Wasteland with them. The Listening Lady’s church is responsible for basically every aspect of Wasteland life. Listening Church shrines and convents are also the Wasteland’s official or de facto orphanages, pantries, farms, hospitals, therapists, inns, textile mills, wedding venues, and basically everything else you need to keep a society functioning. Listening Church acolytes may have a huge variety of occupations, from the extremely down-to-earth (midwifery and laundry etc) to the real Weird and Churchy (doing rituals and divination etc). Many of them take a vow of silence in honor of The Listening Lady. The church of Johnny Knives is much smaller and much more specialized. Knife Church disciples are assassins whose sacred duty is to kill those who need killing, as judged by god.

You don’t really need to get INTO this, though. What you need to know is: Listening Church acolytes are generally warm and kind and in caregiver- or artisan-type roles. Knife Church disciples are peacekeepers & generally a little scary, but are also working toward the public good– kind, but not necessarily nice.

I know the concept of gods and disciples invokes the image of like, robes and shit, but that is NOT how it is! Listening Church acolytes tend toward chiffon and midcentury-lingerie-as-outwear looks and/or country western workwear, depending. Knife Church disciples nearly invariably have sort of a greaser/biker/leather daddy thing going on. They all talk about the gods like they’re their parents and their bosses, which they are. I think it’s kind of more normal than you might be expecting.

So there’s like, magic?

According to the Wastelanders, yes. You don’t need to worry too much about any of that. Just let them do their things.

And everyone is in a church?

Almost everyone interacts with Listening Church in some way, very few interact with Knife Church in any way, but most people in the Wasteland are ‘civilians’ (that is to say, not working for either church).

And they’re all lesbians? How do they have babies??

They’re not ALL lesbians, but basically all our POV characters are & it’s a very lesbian-heavy society. There are many ways that two women may have children, including biological. You got this, I know you do.

And everyone is blue?

Yeah, but it doesn’t really come up.

Why?

Because I liked drawing them with the sky blue posca paint marker when I began this body of work.

Ok. What’s up with Lou?

Louetta “Lou” Primrose is a rider for the Pony Express– she’s a Wasteland mailman. Her job is basically her whole life. She’s been working since she was ten years old, working for the Pony Express since she was 14. After receiving a romantic rejection from Venus, the dance hall girl she’s in love with, Lou agrees to take a strange red-headed woman, Holliday Bell, to the (allegedly) uninhabited coast, where Holliday’s wife is (allegedly) waiting for her.

Lou is dedicated, practical, and hard-working, but also hot-headed, frequently mean, a little self-conscious, and ‘a rambling man,’ never in one place for long. She’s markedly not religious among other Wastelanders (so is a great pov character for you if you’re new to al this!). Her greatest achievement has been winning the main event at the Wasteland’s biggest horse games three years in a row, unseating the previous champion. Nobody else really cares that much.

What’s up with Holliday?

Holliday Bell is an elegant and mysterious woman who showed up to Lou’s post office with stamps pinned to her blouse, claiming she’d mailed herself there from a town hundreds of miles away. She is asking Lou, who works at the most westerly post office in Wasteland, to finish the delivery by bringing her way out to the coast where she claims her wife, a pearl diver, is waiting for her.

Holliday is strange. From the beginning, Lou feels put off by her personality, which is both abrasive and seemingly rehearsed. She can be unspeakably cutting and is obviously hiding a big secret.

What’s up with Artie?

Reckoning “RT” “Artie” Tehachapi is the Knife Church disciple who, after a series of lies and miscommunications spanning several parties across the Wasteland, is sent to apprehend Lou, who she thinks has kidnapped Holliday. She breaks Lou’s wrist and dislocates her shoulder in their first altercation before she learns that Lou is an innocent party in all of this. Deeply ashamed of her actions, she vows to serve Lou until they make it back to civilization.

Artie is upbeat and optimistic, especially for Knife Church, but her guilt at her transgressions against Lou & eagerness to make up for them have left her in a kind of anxiety spiral. She’s the only one who has any real survival skills and continually works herself to the last drop, and then works herself a few drops more. When her big, horrible, deep, dark secret is revealed, her mental state continues to deteriorate.

What’s up with Venus? We haven’t seen her in a while?/Who’s the one-armed smokeshow?

Venus is Lou’s love interest, the girl she left behind in Hereafter. We haven’t seen her in a while because she, wisely, stayed there while Lou went off on her extremely inadvisable mission.

Venus of the Wastes is a dime-a-dance girl/saloon girl/sex worker who lives in Hereafter. She is Lou’s friend and Lou is both in love with her and her best client. Just before Lou left to deliver Holliday, she admitted to Venus that she was in love with her. Venus is, at least, very fond of Lou.

✨ Ok, but this is a lot! Where do I start??

If you’re looking to hop in on the story in progress, I’ve made summaries of part 1 , part 2 , and part 3 as we have gone on. I’ll update this with part 4 when we finish it.

If you’re a completionist, the links above have epub & pdf files of the full text of each part. Here’s where part 4 begins, until we finish that part and I post it all together. You can find the rest of part 4 by scrolling backwards through the collection. I will also attach pdfs & epubs of all the full text to this post on my patreon!

If you’re a completionist completionist & you want it ALL, here’s everything and the chronological order in which they occur in-universe. Again, Pony Express is meant to be able to stand on its own two feet without any of the rest of this, but it might be fun for you to read the rest. The first three here are kind of a series, but Tears Can’t Put Out This Flame and Bloodied on Arrival could both be read independently. Care and Keeping probably needs those two to support it, unless you’re happy just jumping in and figuring stuff out via context. It’s Artie’s backstory, but it’s not necessary for you to read to make Pony Express make sense. It’ll just give you a little more dramatic irony etc.

Tears Can’t Put Out This Flame - a novella about Hero Sasaki, a novice acolyte at the Church of the Listening Lady (god of life & sorrow) who has been tasked with delivering a package to an anchorite from her church. Frances is a disgraced assassin from The Church of Johnny Knives (god of justice & death) who has been tasked with escorting her. Through trials of the road, emergency first aid, prayer, ritual (blood and otherwise), a little sex, and a lot of tears, they find love exactly where they should've expected it in the first place.

Bloodied on Arrival - a novel about Nuisance (and Hero), a road-weary assassin from The Church of Johnny Knives (god of justice & death) who finds herself and her new cat taking refuge at a companionship shrine run by a beautiful older widow, Hero, of the Church of the Listening Lady (god of life and sorrow). The two can't deny their immediate connection and aim for a rewarding one-night stand, but things don't go as planned.

Care and Keeping - a work in progress novel(?) about Hero and Nuisance and their new adopted feral child, Artie, a little girl who has known nothing but abuse, pain, and starvation who believes it’s her sacred mission to join Knife Church. Nuisance agrees to train her to join the church in a bid to keep her from it for as long as possible. This is a kind of coming-of-age story for Artie and a becoming parents story for Hero & Nuisance.

Pony Express - A work in progress novel about Lou (also featuring Artie) - see synopsis at beginning of post.

The novel/las are available for purchase on my Patreon for $5 or for pay-what-you-want $5+ on Gumroad. If you find you can’t afford that, but want to read it, please let me know! DM me wherever or email me at missluckycatknives (at) gmail (dot) com I’m happy to make my work accessible to you. All Pony Express and Care and Keeping are free as I work on them.

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good-old-gossip · 5 months ago

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In the Gaza Strip, there are two cemeteries that contain the remains of British soldiers, most of whom died fighting in World War One, a few of whom died in World War Two.

Owned by the UK-based Commonwealth War Graves Commission, they are known locally as the British graveyards, and are regarded as a major cultural and archaeological site in the Palestinian enclave.

The Gaza War Cemetery lies in al-Tuffah neighbourhood in the north of Gaza. It has 3,217 graves, of which 781 are unidentified. Second World War burials number 210.

There are 30 post-war burials and 234 war graves of other nationalities. The other is located in the north of Deir al-Balah, in the area of al-Zwayda.

Inside it lies 724 soldiers, all of them British. Both cemeteries have survived since Israel's war on Gaza began, just as they have survived many conflicts before.

In 2006, the Gaza War Cemetery was partially damaged by an Israeli missile. Israel paid £90,000 as compensation.

In addition, about 350 headstones needed repair after Israel’s three-week assault on Gaza in 2009. Few areas of Gaza have been spared the onslaught of Israel’s latest military operation.

But compared with the scores of Palestinian graveyards left in ruins by the assault, the British cemeteries appear to have been consciously avoided. Al-Shujayya, Beit Hanoon and Khan Younis's cemeteries have all been wrecked, as well as the graveyard of the Church of Saint Porphyrius - believed to be the world's third oldest church - which was reduced to rubble.

Running out of capacity since January and receiving scores of corpses every day, the municipality of Deir al-Balah has been reliant on mass graves to absorb the influx.

“The continuous Israeli bombardment leaves us with no choice. We dig tens of metres deep into the ground to bury people. There were days I had to bury 300 or 400 people," Abu Jawad Baraka, a 64-year-old undertaker, told MEE.

"But Israel can’t cause havoc to the British graveyards and will pay so much money in compensation to repair what was barely damaged. They’re sacred to them, and just thinking about it hurts.”

✍️ and 📸 by Abubaker Abed

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derww · 1 month ago

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DAY 17: FLIGHT

The aftermath of the day is rough: people scatter to different edges of the map, sewing up their wounds and reassembling themselves, and Blindfold Bandits celebrate their next victory in a row. While the others are distracted, Zam meets with Woogie, and they bury Leo and Red. There are no names on their graves, but he plants daisies and red tulips and hopes that one day he will be able to see his friends again. Mane is here, on spawn, and Zam notices several times that his gaze is turned in their direction. Mane doesn't touch them. He doesn't call his allies either.

The coordinates from Mapicc lead him in the middle of a deep river, and, breaking three blocks down, Zam falls into a water tunnel leading down. It ends almost at the bedrock, opening into a man-made space. It is in complete disarray: randomly placed chests, scattered bandages, and bottles. Whole Empire is here: Minute in clothes from someone else's shoulder and fresh scars on his neck and face is standing at the brewing stands; Spoke is lying on the table, wrapped in bandages almost from head to toe, including an obviously broken right arm; Chief is repairing a broken elytra; Mapicc, still smeared in his own and someone else's blood, expands the space; and Jepexx is scurrying around, handing out golden apples to everyone. He is not surprised to see Zam: he hands him a golden apple too and vaguely greets him, mutters something under his breath, and leaves.

– Zam, – Mapicc greets, raising his hand. Spoke raises his head and waves at him with his not broken arm. Minute's reaction is limited to a brief nod.

The Empire is in complete disarray: having lost their base and too many hearts, unable to take a fair fight now, they hid deep underground, at least so, giving themselves a minute to rest and regroup. They look... not good. Having seemed too strong at the beginning, they were stopped by an even more unstoppable force.

– Do you have watermelons? – Minute asks him, and Zam silently places an enderchest and throws Minute like half a glass of glistering melons. He catches them without turning around, unperturbed, but Zam notices that his fingers are trembling, and he is terrified to see it. – Thanks,– and puts them in three brewing stands.

– What is the situation? – Zam asks. Looking around more closely, he notices coils of bloody bandages, a removed splint, several coils of medical threads, streaks of dirt on the floor, and – Minute's dilated pupils, almost completely obscuring the snow-white sclera with a cloudy gray.

– Fucking shit, – Mapicc says, and, opening it, gulps down a bottle of a regen, – we can't stand still anymore. Mane and Flame must be stopped, or the whole season will go to hell.

– Opps are just too good to be true,– Spoke giggles, waving his injured legs, and catches the instant healing potion thrown at him by Minute and drinks it. His hand crunches back into place, and he removes the splint, kneading the still obviously awkward and painful, but at least whole arm. – yeah, this shit is better than regen, – he complacently declares, and then undertakes to stretch, clearly overstressing his sore limbs, and, swearing, falls back to the place.

– The five of you can't do it, – Zam states and shakes his head, – you're good, but Mane, Flame, Pentar and Wemmbu-

– Yeah, no shit, – Chief rolls his eyes, – they collected four of the top 10 and a bunch of everyone else. This is not fucking winnable.

– Of course it is, – Mapicc answers, clearly irritated, – We just have to lock in.

– We should unite the server against them. – Minute frowns.

– We need to change the strategy, – Zam mentions, sorting through the chests – a bunch of small things and devilry in half with things from corpses and randomly piled firereses, potions of strength and speed, - we can't feed them hearts any more. We need more traps, – he hesitates. Spoke stares at him, and then gives him three brief signs. Zam looks away and then nods, – anything that would kill a 20 heart player, really. Even if we don't get the hearts. We have to drain them, and they have so much fucking anything.

Minute, propping up the wall, slowly shakes his head. He looks incredibly tired. Zam wonders how many regenerations he poured into himself to stand on his feet after two deaths in a row.

– You, – he stops. Their relationship remained complicated and awkward this season too, – will you work on this with us?

And Zam... is silent. Yes, he had saved Mapicc and had helped the Empire a lot lately for the sake of Mapicc and maintaining balance, but the Empire was still the embodiment of the evil of this server. It just so happened that there was greater evil now. And for some reason, everyone in the Empire treated him well.

He was a pacifist, but more than that, he volunteered to be a protector of this world and the weak people here. Indirectly, he was fighting against the very essence of the Empire. They were the second strongest unit of the server and killed countless weak ones. They might have a common enemy right now, but...

– Yes, – he nods, – Flame and Main have to be stopped as soon as possible. Everything else is later.

And Minute smiles at him – brittle and strange, but he smiles, and this is a rare sincere smile.

– Then welcome to the Empire, Zam, – he says cautiously, but with some kind of satisfaction, – and may the force be with you.

#lifesteal spoilers #princezam #mapicc #minutetech #lifestealtober2024 #d.fics #fanfiction #too tired rn ;-;#no beta we died like princezam streams

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lunarubra · 9 months ago

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Hi :) this is the first chapter of the Shadow of the Sea, let me know what you think about it in the comments. A big thank you to @cillmequick for beta-reading and being the sweetest person ever. I wouldn't have published it without her assurance that it doesn't completely suck.

Pairing: Cillian x OC (Jiyan)

Summary: In this AU set in 2010, Cillian has just finished filming 'Inception'. He has never been married, and after a few disappointing relationships, he finds himself feeling blocked in his personal life, even as his career continues to rise.This is a completely fictional story, not based on real life. I wrote this with the utmost respect for the man and his family.

Warning: Homesickness, Family Distance, Mention of Sexual Assault (not between OC and Cillian), Sexual Harassment, Date Rape Drug/Roofies

Words: 2700

Next | Masterlist

Chapter 1: Eire's Depths

Closing the laptop with too much force, Jiyan started massaging her temples, hoping to alleviate the tension and praying she wouldn't have to deal with a migraine anytime soon.

The library was silent; the only sound was the rain against the windows, soothing the last students. Even if the new semester just started, there were only a few people left in the study area on a Saturday afternoon. Most students had already headed to the pub for a pint or were getting ready for the clubs later.

Jiyan checked her phone, noticing too many messages she had been ignoring since the morning. Sighing, she opened her brother's chat and found three unread messages.

14h11: Ready for a call later?

16h22: Mom is pacing, almost started ironing. You need to call tonight.

18h42: Seriously sis... if you don't call tonight, I will sedate her and take the first plane to yours.

Jiyan chuckled and quickly answered Mikael.

19h13: Ironing, huh? Almost need an intervention.

19h13: Will call soon, little bro. Don't despair.

Clearing the table of books and notes, she put her laptop and the last few things away in her backpack.

Outside, it was raining. Again.

And it was dark. Already.

Coming from a country where the sun kissed Jiyan's skin almost every day, the continuous rain on this island pierced her heart each time. She was tired and hoped to get home, have a cup of tea, and finally make the call she had been postponing for the last two weeks, perhaps even forgetting what she was doing on this verdant yet depressingly weathered island.

The ride to her place was fast, and the bus was on time, something she was gradually getting used to. Entering the small studio made her feel restless and anxious, intensifying the pressure on her temples. Looking around the space she had started calling home in the last few months did ease her discomfort a little.

Having spent her childhood moving to different countries, Jiyan was acutely aware of the housing crises almost everywhere. Still, she was taken aback by the difficulty of finding a flat in Dublin.

After a month spent in a hostel dorm and countless useless house visits, her desperation reached a point where she considered a dubious Craigslist post seeking help in renovating an old studio.

When she first checked it out, she realized the studio was actually above a car repair shop, and apparently, no one had lived there for about 30 years. Sean, the guy who owned the shop, almost cracked up when she asked about costs and materials. It took her a good 5 minutes to persuade him that she was capable of almost any woodworking task and that she could undertake the restorations in her spare time and during weekends if she could live there. They struck a deal: Sean would foot the bill for materials, and until the renovation was done, she'd cover her living expenses by doing all the work herself.

After two months of solid effort, she'd managed to put in new wood floors, set up a functional bathroom with a brand-new shower, and even start building herself a kitchen. Sure, the place was small, didn't have central heating, and still looked like a bit of a mess, but the one thing that sealed the deal for her was the wood stove. It reminded her of her mom’s cabin up in the mountains, where she'd spend lazy afternoons by the fire, lost in a good book with a cup of tea in hand. So, if she could bring a bit of that cozy feeling into her new place, she figured she'd be all set, even with juggling her university work and research study.

It took a couple of minutes to get the fire going and put the kettle on for some fresh mint green tea. Once she finished her first cup, she dialed her little brother's number.

"Finally, are you becoming such a loser that you're spending your Saturday at the library now?"

"It's called work, Mika. Something you'll learn soon enough."

"Yeah, of course, like I'm not living with a psychopath right now. She almost started ironing the bed sheets, Aji. We need an intervention here, immediately. Mom never cleans; she moved from Turkey because she couldn't stand spending her time cleaning. You need to convince her that you're fine."

"I am fine," Jiyan repeated for the thousandth time. "And Mom moved from Turkey because we're Kurds, and she wanted to avoid spending her time in jail for teaching her language in school."

"You're fine?" Mikael said incredulously. "You're living in the land of Mordor. It's been a week since you've seen any sun; I checked the weather!"

"It's not that bad. I'm starting to like the rain," Jiyan said, convincing no one. "And I like the job."

"Is that Aji?" she heard her mom in the background, stealing the phone from her brother.

"Aji, how are you?" her mother's worried voice asked.

"Hey Mom, I'm good. Mika told me you need an intervention."

"Your brother should be studying for his finals, focusing on his Latin test," Jiyan's mother said after a pause. "It's been weeks since we've heard from you, Jiyan."

Jiyan stared out of the window, feeling guilt and pressure rising in her chest.

"I'm sorry, Mom. It's just... I'm super busy with work and renovation here. I started building the kitchen from scratch, and most of the time, I forget to check my phone. I'm fine, really," she tried to reassure her.

"You're avoiding, little star, and today is a difficult day for you. You should be here, not alone on an island without sun," her mother insisted.

Jiyan really didn't want to have this conversation; she moved to this island to avoid this topic.

"It's all good, Mom. It's not a big deal," she said. "Also, I'm meeting new people; it's a good change," she added, feeling the lie stinging her tongue.

She heard her mom sigh. "I miss you, little star."

"I miss you too, Mom. Also, Mika, I need to go now. I'll call you next week."

"You do that, or I'm sending your brother there to check on you."

Jiyan chuckled and smiled. "We'll lose him at the first change of trains."

"Every battle has its losses."

Now really laughing, she closed the call. "Love you, Mom."

"Love you too, little star."

Jiyan put down her phone, staring again at the window. She knew she needed a distraction and couldn't spend the rest of the day inside alone. Not even building furniture could distract her today.

She put on her jacket and boots, grabbed the keys, almost sprinting outside in the rain.

Again.

Snap.

5 points.

Snap.

5 points.

Snap.

15 points.

Sighing disappointedly, Jiyan walked over to the dartboard to retrieve the darts. It had been two weeks since she discovered this pub near her place. The music was usually pretty good, and it could be a cozy spot during weeknights. It wasn't usually too crowded, which suited her just fine. She'd come in to have a soda and play darts, avoiding the regulars and the occasional group of tourists who tried to strike up a conversation.

She knew she stood out as a woman in a pub on a Saturday night, playing darts alone. That night, she had already dodged two American tourists who tried to flirt and offer to "teach her" how to play.

On the other hand, the regulars, after giving her strange looks for the first couple of nights, now hardly noticed or bothered her, accepting the odd loner who didn't drink beer and spent hours throwing darts. Tonight, unfortunately, the pub was busier than usual, with some tourist groups disturbing her vibe.

Feeling a presence behind her, she tensed up immediately.

"Hey, baby, what are you drinking? Can I buy you the next round?"

Jiyan turned around to face a stranger who looked like the typical Chad character from any American high school drama.

"No thanks, I'm good," she replied shortly, turning back to focus on her game.

"Come on, I saw you looking at me. You were checking me out, I saw you."

"Excuse me?" she said, annoyed, not having a clue what he was talking about.

"Yeah, when you went to order your drink, you smiled. The guys and I are having a blast; you could come join us. I promise you a great night."

Jiyan took a deep breath, trying not to get too annoyed. "Listen, Chad, if that's even your name—I don't care. I'm not here to make friends or have a good time with your guys. I was having fun until 30 seconds ago when I didn't even know of your existence. Can we go back to that, please? Thanks, bro."

"My name's not Chad," he replied, irritated.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Jiyan said dismissively, hoping the conversation would end there, and she could get back to her new form of therapy: throwing darts.

Chad returned to his table muttering something about a "stupid bitch," but Jiyan didn't have the energy tonight to educate a stranger about basic respect and boundaries.

She took the last sip of her lemonade and headed to the bathroom, ordering another one from the bartender. When she returned, finding the new bottle of lemonade near the dartboard, she resumed her evening.

Cillian was onto his second pint when his attention wandered again to the peculiar woman in the far corner of the pub, throwing darts.

She seemed to be in her late 20s, sporting a hand-knit beanie that partially obscured her long dark hair. Her frame was small, drowned in a pair of jeans and an oversized dark hoodie. Each time she retrieved her darts from the board and turned around, Cillian found himself momentarily distracted from the conversation, captivated by her large green-leaf eyes.

Despite her efforts to blend in with her dull, oversized attire, every straight man in the pub couldn't help but notice her attractiveness.

Dermot, noticing Cillian's repeated glances, remarked, "She's new around here, lives in the area, spends her nights alone playing darts. Connor was annoyed the first night because she doesn't drink or eat, but apparently, she tips well, so we see her almost every night now."

Cillian raised an eyebrow at his friend. "Do you stalk all the newbies at the pub? Should I be worried? Should I give Connie a call?"

Dermot chuckled. "Like you didn't glance in her direction every five seconds. Just doing you a favor, pal."

Snorting, Cillian covered his blush with a sip from his pint. "I was just curious, and I wasn't staring at her the whole time."

"Sure, sure. Maybe we don't need to worry about you after all. You've been holed up in your basement for a month, and now look at you! You should go talk to her."

Cillian shook his head. "I'm gearing up for the new role, and it's been busy..."

Dermot glanced at his friend. "It's okay, you know, to try again? You're not a bad guy, and not all stories work out, mate."

Cillian looked down at his pint, taking another sip. He hadn't wanted to go out tonight and dwell on his last relationship. After a couple of weeks of seclusion, he was finally finding his balance. It wasn't that he missed her; they both knew the interest had faded months ago. They had reached a point where they were uncomfortable around each other and only ended up hurting one another.

He was just tired.

At 34, he was already questioning if this was it, his life—filled only with jobs he loved and relationships that would fill his life for a few months before inevitably ending.

Glancing up, he noticed a tourist from a nearby table approaching the young woman. Dermot and he said nothing for a moment, watching with interest. She appeared mostly annoyed and seemed to handle the situation well. After a brief exchange, she returned to her darts, and the guy slunk back to his table looking disgruntled.

Dermot chuckled after a sip from his pint, jesting, "Or maybe not the best idea, it looks like not even your piercing blue eyes would work this time."

Cillian snorted. "I think Enda would kill me if I showed up tomorrow with anything less than perfect condition. He owns me until the end of this play."

"Best not risk it, then."

They spent the next half-hour joking, with Dermot updating Cillian on Corinna and their new pregnancy. Cillian tried not to glance at the dartboard anymore, but he couldn't help but notice the American guy hurrying back to her corner after she ordered something from the bar, only to return to his table before she came back. Hopefully, he had finally realized she wasn't interested.

Around 11, they both decided to settle the bill and end their Saturday night.

Connor asked if everything was okay, and they both tipped him generously. It had taken some time for Cillian to find a place where no one cared about him or his career, and he didn't want to ruin it.

While Dermot quickly went to the restroom, Cillian cast one last glance at the dartboard, only to find the corner of the pub empty, with only her half-drunk bottle remaining.

Connor followed his gaze and grunted. "She forgot to pay, these damn tourists."

Surprised, Cillian looked at him. "I can cover her tab..."

"Why should you?" interrupted Connor, waving his hand dismissively. "She's here most nights; it will be covered, don't worry."

While waiting for Dermot, Cillian's eyes wandered to the American group's table, where they were laughing and shaking their heads conspiratorially. He noticed almost immediately that the persistent guy was missing and a bad feeling washed over him.

"Ready? Conie's going to kill me if I get home too late again, and maybe this time I can avoid sleeping on the couch," Dermot said, noticing Cillian's worried expression.

"What?" he asked Cillian.

Shaking his head, Cillian replied, "Nothing, let's go. Goodnight, Connor."

"Goodnight, lads."

Stepping outside, the cold, fresh air jolted Cillian awake. The street was quiet, unusually empty for a Saturday night. Glancing around before bidding farewell to Dermot, something caught his eye. In the corner of the street near the alley that led to the back of the pub, he noticed a jacket he recognized from inside. Dermot was saying something to him, but he wasn't paying attention, drawn closer to the alley where he found the guy from inside with his arms around an intoxicated young woman. She seemed unaware of what was happening and unable to stand on her own.

"Hey! What are you doing to her?" Cillian exclaimed, getting the guy's attention.

The guy jumped, almost letting the girl fall to the ground.

"Just helping her, man," he replied quickly. "Mind your business and go back inside."

Dermot, who had reached Cillian by then, also saw the scene unfolding before them. "What the fuck is happening here?"

The guy appeared more concerned now and, realizing Cillian wasn't alone, released the woman he was carrying, pushing past Cillian to leave the alley.

Cillian quickly moved closer, trying to catch her before she hit the ground. She now looked unconscious, and he gently laid her down, checking her vitals.

"What the fuck, man, this is so fucked up," Dermot said.

"Dermot, call 999. I'm not sure if she's breathing properly," Cillian said, alarmed. "Who knows what the fuck he gave her."

He wasn't paying attention to his friend but was focused on trying to make her a bit more comfortable. After a few moments of cradling her head, he noticed her scrunching her nose and grimacing. She opened her eyes, and Cillian found himself momentarily lost in them.

"Hey," he said softly as she stared at him. "It's going to be okay, alright? Just breathe; the ambulance is coming."

She didn't respond, just continued gazing at him with those beautiful green eyes, looking a little confused.

"It's going to be okay," he repeated, even softer this time. "I'm here. You're not alone. Just rest."

And she smiled, causing his heart to skip a beat, before closing those bright jade eyes once more.

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Thank you so much for taking the time to read. Your feedback, in any form, makes me happy. See you at the next one :)

amazing dividers from cafekitsune

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x oc #cillian murphy imagine #cillian x fem!reader #ari's little corner

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fuckyeahisawthat · 3 months ago

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I've read several post-Dune Part Two fics now where Chani fucks off somewhere far away, changes her name and lives in anonymity in some sietch or another until someone who knows her, either Gurney or sometimes Paul himself, comes and finds her. But I haven't seen any (yet, I say, not needing another WIP on my plate) that deal with what I think is the most likely possibility, which is that she simply goes back to Sietch Tabr.

The sietch was damaged but it wasn't completely destroyed. There are absolutely still people there--for starters, anyone who was too wounded to undertake a planet-length evacuation journey. And if the sietch was damaged to the extent that huge chunks of rock were falling out of the walls, there will absolutely be people who were trapped, either in passageways where both ends collapsed or under rubble. And in the immediate aftermath some of them will still be alive and people will be looking for them. And even past the point where anyone could still be alive, if the sietch is going to be habitable again someone has to do the gruesome work of extracting the bodies. Those sietches are specialized habitats that were probably built over many generations, capable of sustaining populations of thousands in an environment that is very resource-poor for human survival. People aren't going to simply abandon them, especially now that the Harkonnen threat is gone. They will want to come back. Which means there will be people there clearing out rubble and repairing damaged infrastructure and caring for the wounded and laying the dead to rest in whatever manner they can. That's all practical service work for which people with strong muscles and a strong stomach are needed.

And also...Chani must have a family, right? We don't see them in the movie but they must exist. She cannot be completely without social connections outside of Paul. Someone will have been waiting for her to come home from the battle for Arrakeen. And while she is furious and heartbroken at Paul, I don't think it would ever cross her mind that she would need to hide from him. And she would resent the idea of hiding from his legend. So yeah, I think she is at Sietch Tabr helping with the recovery effort.

And you know that meme that's like "white guy excited to burn down the system and also control the rebuilding effort"? That's exactly what's gonna happen. The new Emperor will be sparing no expense in making sure the sietches are repaired and livable again. Maybe he could't foresee the attack in time to stop it but now he's sending mining equipment and structural engineers press-ganged from across the Known Universe and doing his disaster recovery PR tour in between waging war on the rest of the universe and of course he’s going to visit Sietch Tabr, his home if only for a little while, and, well, you see the possibilities here.

#this will probably be a ficlet eventually but it is still cookin #dune #dune part two #chani kynes #paul atreides #paul x chani #sietch tabr #paulchani

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bendycxmet · 1 year ago

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Repair You—Vash the Stampede

Summary: Just repairing Vash's arm. He might see it as more than just a simple act of service though.

Word Count: ~1.7k

Content: fluff, the whole gangs here, drinking, drunken and silly Vash, Wolfwood being a tease

You sat quietly at the hotel desk for quite some time now, feet swung onto the hardwood desktop while haphazardly leaning backward in the rusty old chair with a book between your fingers. The crew had gone out for another late-night drinking session, negating your pleas to rest tonight as the previous night's session had taken a lot out of you.

"You're starting to show your age there yanno" quipped Wolfwood as he slung his arm heavily onto your shoulders. He leaned in, smirking with downward-cast eyes as the lit cigarette between his lips swirled nicotine smoke around your persona, putting you in a heady yet annoyed space.

"Am not! You know we're both around the same age, right?” You swatted the smoke that crawled its way into your nostrils, but Nico paid no mind, only crowding closer into your personal space to hear the futile excuse you gave next.

“It's just the hangover from this morning is still lingering. Maybe I feel it more than you since I out-drank your ass and you lost that bet when we were playing darts!" you teased as you wiggled your finger into his side. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, grumbling that you had cheated.

A loud stomp could be heard from behind, and before you could turn to see who was noisily heading your way, a tuft of blonde hair and dazed blue eyes appeared.

"Mayflyyyy cmonnn you didn't spend enough time with me yesterday night!" A poof of his breath revealed that Vash had already started the night's festivities. You see the striped tie wrapped around his forehead. You chuckle.

Yep, he’s definitely a couple drinks in.

Judging by how he had nudged his way between Wolfwood and yourself and sent a pointed glare toward the Undertaker, Vash was tipsy already. It was fun to see him tipsy when you were sober, as you were able to pinpoint the funny and affectionate little habits he threw your way, especially his small bouts of jealousy when Wolfwood became too close to you. He clung to your side as he batted his eyelashes, peering down at you with what could be described as the most endearing puppy dog eyes you have ever seen.

"Oh Vash, I did spend all yesterday night with you! You glued yourself to my side as if I was going to disappear! But you passed out on one of the tables before we left. That's why I played darts with Wolfwood." You giggled as you recalled Wolfwood begrudgingly carrying Vash back to your shared hotel room.

"Hey now you guys, let's just let them go back to their room. We can have enough fun here, right Milly?" drawled Meryl.

"Yeah!! Let's get a round of drinks going again, everyone. Have a good night y/n!" shouted Milly in a warbled tone as she clumsily made her way to the bar, Wolfwood trailing close behind to ensure the tall girl didn't drop any of their drinks.

"Mmmm please don't go…" whimpered Vash as he tucked his head into your neck. "I'll miss you too much."

"Vash, angel, have fun tonight okay?” You whispered into his ear.

“I'll be waiting back in the room. Plus, yanno what night it is?" you wiggled your eyebrows teasingly. Vash simply gave a slow blink.

"Arm repair day~"

Before the last word could escape your lips, Vash positively beamed at you, squealing in excitement before pecking your face and lips.

"Promise?!"

"I promise. I would never break our promise of these nights. Now go, I'll be waiting for you." You went to push him away as he kept planting wet, sloppy kisses against your cheeks, the skin flushing from his deep affections.

With that, you exit the populated bar, turning to look over your shoulder one last time as Vash bounds after the crew as they order another round of shots of a liquor you were too familiar with the night before. You groan, feeling nauseous at the thought.

You smile fondly at the memory that had played out only hours prior, ears perking up as several pairs of footsteps and giggling voices made their way down the hall. A loud thump could be heard before Meryl's quiet chastising ensued, warning the two to quiet down before they awakened the snoozing hotel patrons. Planting your feet down from the desk, you went to meet the crew in the hall. Swinging the door open, you were met with quite a chaotic scene.

Vash had Wolfwood's face in his hands, smooching faces being made as Wolfwood struggled to keep him at an arm’s length.

"Needle noggin I told you to quit it! I’m not your Mayfly.” Wolfwood perked up at the sound of your creaking door.

“Look! There’s your beloved Mayfly!” Vash whipped his head up, searching for you until his eyes met yours.

“Mayflyyy!” Vash pushed off Wolfwood and launched his body at yours standing in your shared hotel room threshold. You fell backwards with the strong, heavy weight of Vash abruptly meeting your ill-prepared stance, worrying you had hit your head on the dirty hardwood floors until you felt Vash’s warm fingers pressing into your skull. You sighed into his neck, wrapping your arms around him. Even drunk, Vash always prioritized the safety of your being.

“You should’ve seen him. His last drink sent him begging to see you. He was in tears. I shoulda told the bartender to dilute that beer,” chuckled Meryl, a snoring Milly hanging from her shoulders. “Well, we’re gonna turn in for the night. Good luck handling the typhoon.”

“Thanks you guys. Mind shutting the door? I’m in a bit of a… predicament.” Peering down, you can see the content smile gracing Vash’s face as he rubbed his face into your shirt, inhaling the scent of you.

“Sure thing. Night you guys.” With that, Meryl shut the door.

“Hey Stampede, enjoying yourself there?” Vash groaned, pinching your side with the hand that was not cradling your head.

“Yanno I hate when you call me that. Where’s my nicknamesss?” drawled Vash, sniffling as he peered up at you. You brought up one of your hands to tenderly caress his warm cheeks.

“Sorry my sweet angel~” you said in a lilted tone. “Thought you had forgotten all about me, and our designated nights.” Vash let out a loud gasp as he pushed himself so that he was sitting with his back to the end of the bed.

“Never ever! Look, I’m all ready.” Vash messily threw his red coat off, tugging his humanoid limb off and offering the piece to you. He seems to have sobered up quickly at the mention of what he had been looking forward to all night.

“What a good boy. Now go take a shower, you don’t smell like my usual Vash. I’ll get started on this.” Vash’s cheeks flushed an even darker pink at your praise, promptly hopping up and entering the bathroom, water and steam hissing from the gap under the closed door. You sat at the edge of the bed, tinkering with his arm with some tools you bought from a vendor many towns ago. You don’t understand why you love to do this for him. Maybe it's the only act of service you can do for him. Well, it’s the least you can do when he’s constantly laying down his life for you.

Vash exited the bathroom, steam filling the hotel room. His gray, weathered sweatpants hung low on his hips, chest left uncovered so that you could trail your eyes down the many scars littering his skin. You can never get used to seeing him like this, quickly averting your eyes back to the task at hand, struggling to quell the blush settled now on your face. The sensation of the cotton cloth between your fingers gave your brain a distraction from the sight in front of you. You missed the teasing spark in Vash’s eyes as he made his way to you, sitting on the floor and pushing his back between your calves hanging off the edge of the bed.

“How goes it?”

“Almost done… just gotta polish it.”

He hummed, tilting his head back until he was staring at you work. The cute crease you made in between your eyebrows whenever you were focused always had his heart twinge. How lovely it was to have someone take care of just one piece of him. Yearning for your attention after a long night without you, Vash turned his head to kiss the inner area of your knee. You giggled at the ticklish feeling.

“What’s wrong? You missed me that much?” You set the now polished arm on the bed, running your fingers through his coarse, soft blonde hair, occasionally scratching at his scalp. Vash hummed, his entire body slumping against the bed at your gentle caresses.

“You have no idea…” Vash’s breaths began to slow at the feeling of your fingertips combing through his wet hair. What a strange sight to see when his hair wasn’t spiked into his usual style. The way his hair settled lightly over his eyes gave him an almost vulnerable, boyish charm, the urge to shield him and take him away from the world that hurts him constantly hitting you square in the chest. You took a deep breath, remembering that he would rather get hurt himself before seeing you attempt to protect him. Better to just ensure the arm that protected not only yourself and the crew, but also himself, was optimized at all times.

“Let’s get under the covers, I can feel how tired you are.”

Vash progressively became heavier as a serene expression crossed his face, unfocused blues following your movements as you guided him under the covers, allowing his head to hit your chest, knowing he would appreciate hearing your soft, beating heart in his dreams. Vash’s last moments awake included him turning onto his side, arm wrapped around your middle, his legs interlacing with yours. The ensnaring warmth of him began to lull you to sleep, but not before you heard a quiet whisper floating upward from your chest.

“Thank you…”

You didn’t need an entire sentence to read in between the lines, or rather, in between two words to know that Vash was not just thanking you for repairing his humanoid arm. With those last two words from him, Vash’s soft, even breaths willed you to sleep.

A/N: Hello everyone! Thanks for reading my first piece of fanfic I've ever posted! Not usually a writer, so bear with me haha just doing this for fun. I just really love Vash so I wanted to add some fanfics into the fandom. Thanks for reading and hope for your continued support! See ya <33

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#vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #trigun x reader #trigun #trigun stampede #tristamp #vash the stampede #vash x reader fluff #vash fluff #bendycxmet writes

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