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shipmodelling101 · 11 months ago

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Building Your Own Pirate Ship: A Guide to Wooden Model Ship Kits

Have you ever dreamed of sailing the high seas on your own pirate ship, like the legendary Black Pearl or the fearsome Queen Anne's Revenge? While you may not be able to commandeer a real pirate vessel, you can still experience the thrill and adventure of building your own miniature replica with a wooden model ship kit.

Wooden model ship kits are a fun and rewarding hobby that allow you to create realistic and detailed models of historical and fictional ships, using various tools and materials. In this guide, we'll show you how to build your own pirate ship with a wooden model ship kit, and give you some tips and tricks to make the process easier and more enjoyable.

What You'll Need

To build your own pirate ship with a wooden model ship kit, you'll need the following items:

• A wooden model ship kit of your choice.

There are many different types and brands of wooden model ship kits available on the market, but for this guide, we'll focus on the ones offered by Premier Ship Models, a leading online retailer of quality model ships and boats. Premier Ship Models has a wide range of wooden model ship kits to suit your preferences and skill level, from beginner to expert. Some of their popular pirate ship kits include the Black Pearl, the Jolly Roger, the HMS Bounty, and the HMS Surprise. You can browse their collection of pirate ship kits https://premiershipmodels.us/.

• A set of basic tools and materials.

Depending on the complexity and size of your chosen kit, you may need different tools and materials to assemble your model. However, some of the common tools and materials you'll need are: a hobby knife, a cutting mat, a ruler, a pencil, a pair of scissors, a pair of tweezers, a drill, a hammer, a file, a sandpaper, a glue, a paint, a brush, and a varnish. You can find most of these tools and materials at your local hobby store or online.

• A spacious and well-lit work area.

Building a wooden model ship kit can take several hours or even days, depending on your pace and skill level. Therefore, you'll need a comfortable and convenient work area where you can spread out your tools and materials, and work without interruptions. Make sure your work area is spacious enough to accommodate your model and its parts, and well-lit enough to see the details clearly. You may also want to cover your work surface with a cloth or a paper to protect it from scratches, spills, or stains.

How to Build Your Own Pirate Ship

Once you have your wooden model ship kit, your tools and materials, and your work area ready, you can start building your own pirate ship by following these steps:

• Step 1: Read the instructions.

Before you start assembling your model, it's important to read the instructions carefully and familiarize yourself with the parts and the process. The instructions will guide you through the steps of building your model, from cutting and shaping the parts, to gluing and painting them, to rigging and mounting them. The instructions will also provide you with diagrams, photos, and tips to help you along the way. Make sure you follow the instructions closely and in the correct order, as any mistakes or deviations can affect the final outcome of your model.

• Step 2: Cut and shape the parts.

The first step of building your model is to cut and shape the parts according to the instructions. Most wooden model ship kits come with pre-cut parts that are ready to use, but some may require you to cut them out from a sheet of wood or a strip of metal. You'll need to use your hobby knife, your cutting mat, and your ruler to cut the parts accurately and safely. You may also need to use your file, your sandpaper, and your drill to shape and smooth the parts, and to create holes or slots for fitting them together. Be careful not to damage or lose any parts, as they may be difficult or impossible to replace.

• Step 3: Glue and paint the parts.

The next step of building your model is to glue and paint the parts according to the instructions. You'll need to use your glue, your brush, and your tweezers to attach the parts together, and to create details such as planks, windows, doors, cannons, and ornaments. You'll also need to use your paint, your brush, and your varnish to color and finish the parts, and to create effects such as weathering, aging, or damage. Make sure you apply the glue and the paint sparingly and evenly, and let them dry completely before moving on to the next step. You may also want to test the glue and the paint on a scrap piece of wood or metal before applying them to your model, to avoid any unwanted reactions or results.

• Step 4: Rig and mount the parts.

The final step of building your model is to rig and mount the parts according to the instructions. You'll need to use your scissors, your tweezers, and your drill to cut and attach the ropes, the wires, and the chains that make up the rigging of your model. You'll also need to use your hammer, your file, and your glue to fix and secure the parts that make up the hull, the deck, the masts, the sails, and the flags of your model. Make sure you align and tighten the parts properly, and check for any loose or missing parts. You may also want to use your varnish to seal and protect your model from dust, moisture, or damage.

Tips and Tricks

Building your own pirate ship with a wooden model ship kit can be a fun and rewarding hobby, but it can also be challenging and frustrating at times. Here are some tips and tricks to help you make the most of your experience and avoid some common pitfalls:

• Choose a kit that matches your skill level and interest.

Wooden model ship kits come in different levels of difficulty and detail, from beginner to expert. Choose a kit that suits your abilities and preferences, and that you find appealing and enjoyable. Don't choose a kit that is too easy or too hard for you, as you may lose interest or get discouraged. You can always start with a simple kit and work your way up to a more complex one as you gain more confidence and experience.

• Plan ahead and organize your work.

Building a wooden model ship kit can be a complex and lengthy process, so it's important to plan ahead and organize your work. Before you start, make sure you have all the tools and materials you need, and that you understand the instructions and the steps. During the process, keep your work area clean and tidy, and sort your parts and tools by type and size. This will help you save time and avoid confusion or mistakes.

• Be patient and careful.

Building a wooden model ship kit requires patience and care, as you'll need to work with small and delicate parts, and follow precise and intricate instructions. Don't rush or force anything, as you may damage or ruin your model. Take your time and enjoy the process, and if you encounter any difficulties or errors, don't panic or give up. You can always consult the instructions, the diagrams, or the photos for guidance, or seek help from other modelers online or offline.

• Have fun and be creative.

Building a wooden model ship kit is not only a hobby, but also a form of art and expression. While you should follow the instructions and the steps, you can also have fun and be creative with your model. You can customize your model with your own touches, such as adding accessories, decorations, or characters, or modifying the colors, the shapes, or the effects. You can also create your own backstory or scenario for your model, and imagine the adventures and stories it could tell. The possibilities are endless, and the only limit is your imagination.

Conclusion

Building your own pirate ship with a wooden model ship kit is a great way to indulge your passion for maritime history and culture, and to unleash your creativity and craftsmanship. By following this guide, you can create your own miniature replica of a legendary pirate vessel, and enjoy the satisfaction and pride of completing your own masterpiece. Whether you display your model in your home or office, or sail it on a pond or a pool, your pirate ship will surely attract attention and admiration from others, and inspire you to explore more of the fascinating world of wooden model ship kits.

#model ship building #wooden model ships #pirate ship model #nautical crafts #model making #hobby #DIY project #pirate ship kit #beginner model ship building #wooden model ship kit

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naturecoastroger-blog · 2 years ago

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Wooden Model Ship Kits for Beginners

Description:

Find wooden model ship kits for beginners or easy skill level in relation to other wooden model ship kits from Naturecoast.com at a discounted price.As a novice, you will surely indulge in arranging these kits to bring forth a customized design based on your requirements.

For more information: Mail id- [email protected], Contact Number- 866-865-7900, http://www.naturecoast.com/, Address- 822 N A1A Highway, Suite 310 Ponte Vedra Beach, FL 32082, USA.

#Historic and Wooden Model Ship Kits

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tesalicious2 · 5 months ago

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Why you don't prank the Guard commanders

Since they are almost constantly tired and at the end of their rope, anything could set them over the edge and no one wants that

not only that but they will usually react very strongly because of their extenuating circumstances and it is often blown out of proportions

HOWEVER, the other battalions don't know that and just want to help their brothers have fun! what's wrong with that

THIRE:

Thire got off a three day mission with General Yoda that ends up with Thire covered in some giant monsters stomach fluids and snot

He had to sit in it for a ten hour ride back and is humilated, with Yoda attempting to comfort him which only makes it worse

On his way back to the HQ, some troopers from the 104th decided to hit a guard with fake slime, a funny little prank

When Thire is at the end of his rope, he goes for violence

Thire waltzes into the mess, calls out whoever pranked him, and proceeded to dress them down, chew them up, and spit them out in front of everyone in the entire mess (made up of a few battalions and some Padawan Commanders)

It boiled down to 'you morons, i will kill you, you tiny roaches are nothing to me and i will throw you in the trash compactor like the disgusting garbage you are' with much more colorful and degrading language thrown in

Many now fear Thire and Wolffe outright refuses to work with the man out of fear

STONE:

Stone had just stopped three prison riots, captured two escapees from said riots, updated the entire security system, and hadn't slept because of the previous items for four days

Some men from Kit Fisto's SCUBA battalion thought it would be funny to hide some of Stone's stuff that was in his office (ie, datapads, pens, etc) and moved his stuff three inches to any side

Stone, who usually just jumped onto the coach in his office with the lights off, missed the middle and went to far up and smacked his nose on the wooden arm of the couch and cracked a tooth

This was not a fun way to cap the last four days

He found the troopers and filled their SCUBA tubes with spiders for them to find when they shipped out. Too bad the spiders crawled onto their faces on the ship and not in the water :(

THORN:

Thorn had been assissting senators for three full days with only 5 hours of sleep while standing throughout meetings

He had been ready to sleep and was heading to his last meeting with General Kenobi and some of his troopers present

Wooley and Longshot decided to lighten the mood by setting their voice coders to a different language and telling him he was going crazy

They also removed the nonslip pads from the couch and it slid out from underneath him

This may not have been bad at all but after three days, every little thing is annoying as shit and exhausting

After that meeting, Thorn decides to take revenge

Thorn is a believer in you get what you give so he does something harmless

relatively harmless

He sneaks onto the 212th barracks on the ship and places a speaker into the vents of the barracks, above Wooley and Longshots bunks (as close as he could get, the sound reverbs so everyone is pretty mad about this prank)

Every so often, in random intervals (no more than 4 hours, no less than 1 hours) a beep would sound, not too loud but loud enough to be annoying after 2 days

At night, it gets louder and more frequent and quieter during the day

Many troopers lose sleep over finding the thing (Thorn literally unscrewed wall panels to hide it), its been 3 weeks and they arrive at their new battle field in a week

Four days before their arrival, as the speaker is about to die, in the middle of the night, the speaker goes to full volume and shouts 'THIS IS COMMANDER THORN. I MAY BE THE CAUSE OF YOUR SLEEPLESSNESS BUT LONGSHOT AND WOOLEY STARTED THIS. I WILL DO IT AGAIN ASSHOLES. THE SPEAKER IS GOING TO DIE SO ENJOY YOUR *TEMPORARY* FREEDOM. HAHHAHAHAHAH-' and then the speaker dies (Thorn hacked the cameras and enjoys playing the screaming arguments and shouts at the speaker during rough days)

Longshot and Wooley never hear the end of it

FOX:

Fox had been going through hell the entire week and he was ready to kill someone, even though his shift wasn't over yet.

Jesse, Fives, and Hardcase had decided to help Fox lighten up by shooting him with silly string throughout the day, switching armor with blank armor to keep hidden

Fox was paranoid and had to be sedated. He eventually tracked down the three and had his revenge not through their own annoyance

At first, he replaced their weapons with modified silly guns that quickly ended, leading them to believe they were free (the whole revenge lasted an hour ish as the three enjoyed playing with the silly string)

Unknown to them, Rex's entire room had been filled with silly string, his blasters, the padding in his matress, the drawers in his dress, the hair wash was liquid silly string, the soap was frozen strong, his pillow, his chair was broken then 'welded' back together with silly string and fell apart when he sat on it, etc.

He kept finding it and it lasted for days, the moment he thought it was over, more string came up. He was paranoid, everything was silly string

When he finally complained to the command chat, Fox told him that Jesse, Hardcase, and Fives caused it and that he overheard them planning it

When Rex punished them, they said they never did anything with silly string but many others saw them spraying each other with the silly string FOX pranked them with so everyone assumed they were messing with the leftovers from Rex's prank. Not only that but they weren't quiet about pranking Fox so everyone thought he was the warm up for Rex.

No matter what they said, Rex didn't believe a word and they were stuck on latrine duty for a whole month

When Rex found out about Fox getting pranked as well, Rex let them get punished by him too

Fox made them clean out all the massiff kennels and play areas, cleaning any stains from the puppies and getting used for bite practice by the adults everyday for their next leave.

Fox came by and watched them everyday, laughing at their misery

HOUND:

Hound loves pranks and jokes and will happily engage and laugh at them

however, the timing has to be right and most don't get that part (only the other ARF troopers know)

Some troopers from the 41st took his bed sheets and pillows and blankets and towels after some of his troopers and Hound ended a four hour chase through the sewers (they didn't know about the chase).

Hound normally would've thought this was hilarious but after spending two hours covered in sewage looking for towels around HQ just to shower, he was pretty mad

After cleaning up and ready for bed, he snuck into the 41st barracks and woke them up with a growling, snarling grizzer leaning over their face and a hand over their mouth.

He whispered, 'don't scream, you touch my shit again, I will end you and everyone you love.'

Rinse and repeat then he sneaks away

#crack #clone wars #clones #star wars #sw tcw #commander fox #coruscant guard #commander thorn #commander thire #commander stone #sergeant hound #pranks #doesn't work on the commanders to much #they won't kill you #but you'll wish they did

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hannahbarberra162 · 2 months ago

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Under the Microscope, Part 10

18+ MDNI on Ao3

All the other chapters

One small invention has big consequences...

Ace’s knock sounded on the door - two short raps followed by a longer tap. From your spot on the floor, you lifted your head to peer at the door with puffy eyes and drew in a shaky breath. Your eyelids felt like sandpaper as you blinked away your tears before using your palms to swipe away the ones trickling down your cheeks. You could feel the heat of the red splotches that always took over your face when you cried and you wondered how long you had even been here.. The headache blooming across your temples and the stiffness in your neck told you that it had been a while since you’d started bawling when Sabo had left. You felt hollow without your devil fruit power and the seastone left you feeling as weak as you did on the Revolutionary Army’s ship. Your body had been robbed of all strength and you had been left a powerless husk on the floor. Your arms tightened around your legs as you did your best to ignore Ace’s knock in the vain hope that he would leave. The door was still locked anyway, it wasn’t like you could let him in even if you wanted to.

“Hey, you in there? Wanted to come see you,” Ace asked softly through the thick wood. You remained silent, sniffling again as your nose continued running. Where else would you be? You heard the turning of the lock and looked up as Ace’s familiar freckled face appeared in the doorway.

“How ya doing Sunflower?” Ace said, using his even stupider nickname than the one Sabo had given you. You silently raised your arm to show him the cuff on your wrist. Your forearm and hand were scratched red and bleeding from where you’d tried to take off the bangle. At first, you’d thought it was made of silver but the metal was much stronger than you anticipated as you banged it against the wall and floor trying to get it to open.

“Ah. Not good then,” Ace said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you want me to patch it up for you?” You shook your head, your current predicament put the scratches at the bottom of your list of worries. The idea of being touched in this state made your skin crawl and his offer only soured your mood further. Ace frowned at your lack of concern.

“Yeah, I mean, I did warn you that Sabo liked you. And he warned you not to run, so…” Ace trailed off as he sat next to you on the cool wooden floor, so close that your shoulders touched. You didn’t have the energy to resist when he picked up your wrist and you let him move your arm freely while he inspected it. His frown deepened when he saw the blood dripping from the shallow cuts after he turned your arm over.

“Stay here, I’m gonna get the first aid kit. You scratched yourself kind of bad in a few places,” Ace said, getting back up and heading to the door. You didn’t bother trying to get out of the room - where would you go? Sabo was still around, you were still stuck on the island, and you didn’t have your devil fruit powers. Ace returned a few moments later and settled in next to you again. Opening the box, he took your arm and placed it on his lap before he began applying astringent to your cuts while he talked.

“You can’t - you’re just… not strong. I mean physically. You can’t protect yourself, you need someone like me or Sabo. I’m not saying it to be mean, it’s true. Not everyone can fight, and that’s ok. You’ve gotta stay with someone who can keep you safe, especially now that you’ve awakened your fruit. Who knows what would happen if the World Government got a hold of you? But don’t worry, Sabo’s gonna help you, get you in with the Army. You’re not doing that great on your -” You rallied your remaining scraps of energy at his words and snatched your arm away from him, intent on wrapping your wounds yourself. You weren’t going to sit there and get lectured about how weak you were by someone who had likely never felt that way themselves.

“Sabo’s not helping me, Ace. I was doing fine on my own until Sabo kidnapped me. Do you remember that part? I don’t want to join the Revolutionary Army,” you hissed at Ace. You knew your anger was misplaced but Ace was the only one you felt comfortable enough to bare your feelings to. You began rolling the bandage around your own wrist as Ace scoffed at you.

“Ok, yeah, Sabo took you from your base. But you know it was for your own good -”

“No, it wasn’t! Sabo took me on a whim! I get it, you both think I’m some stupid idiot who can’t do anything and needs others to take care of me!” you yelled back at Ace. It was infantilizing to hear repeatedly how you couldn’t take care of yourself, how inept and fragile you were in their eyes. You put your head back on your knees, tired of listening to Ace’s cosigning of Sabo’s behavior.

“Go away, Ace. Unless you’re going to take this cuff off of me….just… leave me alone,” you said quietly. Ace lingered a moment but you soon felt the warmth of his body leaving from near your own. His footsteps led back towards the door but you didn’t hear the door shut again. Picking your head up, you saw him passing Sabo in the doorway, who was holding something wrapped in a blanket. You gave Sabo your best blank look, unwilling to show him any of the emotions you were feeling. In your mind, you remembered your Marine training and how to hide your emotions in the face of the enemy. Sabo wasn’t going to get anything from you anymore.

“I don’t think you’re stupid. Or an idiot,” Sabo said calmly, crossing into the room closer to you. He set his wrapped item on the bed and sat near you on the floor. Your back stiffened as you sat up straighter against the bed frame hard enough to feel the edges digging into your back.

“You told me that I was,” you said, trying for nonchalance but failing when your voice cracked halfway through your statement.

“No, what I said was that you weren’t thinking and I stand by my statement. You let Ace convince you to undertake some hare-brained scheme he cooked up to get what you wanted. That doesn’t make you stupid, just desperate. And I can understand why you might feel that way,” Sabo said as he switched to sitting on the bed, his knees by your head as he looked down at you from his new vantage point. His hands were gripping the wooden bedframe near where your shoulder was. You stared straight ahead while Sabo continued undeterred as he always did.

“You’re worried about your family, isn’t that right?” Sabo’s voice was quiet as he put his hand on your shoulder. Your heart started pounding at his question - you couldn’t remember talking to Sabo about your family apart from the instance with his shoulder. And that was just that you had a sister, right? How much did he know about them? Still, you weren’t going to waste this opportunity to curry favor with Sabo. Maybe if he thought you were worried about your family he’d be more inclined to take off the cuff. It would be better than saying you were trying to get away from him.

“Um, yeah. I mean, I was sending most of my paychecks back home -” you started before being interrupted.

“Yes, to Hen and Chick Island. To your ailing sister, two young brothers, and working single mother. Deceased father. The Marines won’t grant pensions if you aren’t confirmed to be dead. That was your worry, was it not?” You glanced up at Sabo, who had you locked into his unnatural stare. You began biting your lower lip in place of your nails as he continued, your stomach turning at his words. You turned to face him, still sitting on the floor.

“I know about all of them. But you don’t have to worry, I had you listed as a working member of the Revolutionary Army and increased your salary. Your family has been getting more money than before though they don’t know the exact source,” Sabo continued with a smile that was as comforting as the shackle on your wrist. You thought your heart was going to explode from how fast it was racing. Did they know you were alive?

“How did - how do you know all that? About my family?” you asked, unable to hear much over the pounding of your blood in your ears.

“I know much more than that,” Sabo said, patting the bed next to him. You obeyed the implicit command and sat next to him on the bed. “I know every project you’ve ever worked on, every article you’ve ever published, every base you were assigned to, everything. Even your real name,” Sabo carried on, putting his hand over yours while staring into your eyes. “But now you can relax a little more, right? Now that you know your family is being provided for? I wish you would have let me explain everything before you did all that with Ace,” Sabo finished, patting your hand.

“I’m always thinking about you and looking out for your best interests. Look, I even brought you your pressed flowers,” Sabo said, lifting the blanket off the parcel on the bed. Peering over, you saw the worn brown leather cover of your pressed flower album.

“How did you -” you said, reaching for the album as Sabo handed it to you. You ran your fingers over the familiar embossed cover as the memory of why you got it swept over you. It had been a matching gift with your sister when you joined the Marines. You wanted some piece of her with you and bought two identical albums with your signing bonus. You told her that the two of you could continue the hobby together from afar, as long as you each kept at it. Your hands started shaking again while holding it, something you sincerely hoped Sabo didn’t notice.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” you said in a small voice, looking down at the album lying on your lap. Your worrying about their financial state had been weighing on you heavily and knowing they were taken care of brought a small measure of relief. Your income being sent home meant your mother wouldn’t have to juggle three jobs to try and scrape together enough money for your sister’s medical care and the boy’s schooling. However, you couldn’t quell the unease that continued to twist in your gut at the staggering amount of information Sabo had on you. You thought you’d played your cards close to your chest but Sabo was two steps ahead of you the entire time. Plus if you were receiving money as a revolutionary, didn’t that make you one? You would need to do whatever you had to for them if you wanted to continue sending money to your family.

“You should thank me,” Sabo said, tilting his head with his eyes still boring into you.

“Thank you, Sabo,” you replied while fiddling with the fraying edge of the binder. “Thank you for bringing me my flowers and um, taking care of my family,” you said meekly while you did your best to avoid his stare.

“A proper thank you should include a kiss on the cheek, don’t you think?” Sabo said, his smile growing impossibly wider.

Sabo POV

Sabo wasn’t stupid, he knew that you had been trying to escape from him. But he needed you to see that there was nowhere to go, that there was nothing out there in the world for you without him. He wanted the best for you and your best choice was obviously him. How could you handle the Grand Line alone when your hands would start shaking at the slightest bit of adversity? The thought was truly laughable; you needed him, even if you were slow to realize it.

He hadn’t wanted to put the cuff on you, especially not by tricking you into it. But what was he supposed to do? You’d disobeyed the few rules that Sabo had set in place, and Sabo loved you enough to hold you to his promises. You needed to see that if you disobeyed him there would be consequences, for the sake of keeping you safe. He knew it had set him back romantically, but keeping his word was more important. You were lucky he loved you so much he’d put aside his own needs and desires to care for you properly. He wasn’t going to keep the cuff on forever anyway. You’d be free eventually, once you came around to his point of view. He decided that when you’d been intrigued enough by the scientific experiments at the RA to want to work for them, he’d give you back your power for that too.

He’d requested one chaste kiss simply to see what you would do. Sabo had thought you were a rule follower, someone who liked to stay within their limits, but your misadventures with his brother during his absence had shown that maybe you were a little more mischievous than he’d anticipated. You kept fiddling with the album he’d brought back for you while you mulled over his request. He had gone out of his way to retrieve it before burning your old base to the ground, killing anyone who had slighted you. Sabo didn’t think you would appreciate his act of chivalry, so he kept that news to himself.

“It’s just a kiss on the cheek, it’s not like I asked to marry you,” Sabo said, rolling his eyes with a smirk. You looked like a wild animal caught in a trap with no way out - he could practically hear your heart beating from where he sat. Sabo almost felt bad but he deserved a little sweetness after what you’d done with Ace. Sabo tapped his gloved finger against his cheek in a silent invitation. Leaning over slowly, you brought your face close to his and quickly pecked his cheek as if it was burning hot.

“See? Not so bad, hm?” Sabo laughed lightly while running his knuckles over your cheekbones in return.

“Oh, and I have one more present for you,” he said, watching your eyes widen. Such a suspicious little thing, he thought, keeping his smile from showing on his face. The more time you spent together the less you’d have to worry about him, it would take time. Similar to how you’d grown accustomed to Ace, you’d enjoy Sabo’s company just as much - if not more. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a curled up leather belt. Extending his arm, he handed you the belt buckle first.

“It has an ‘S’ for Sunny. You know, since Ace took his belt back,” he explained as you turned it over in your hand.

“Thank you, Sabo,” you said meekly before laying it gently on the bed. You leaned forward to give him another kiss on the cheek. This time Sabo turned his face at the last moment so your lips landed on his. He did it quick enough that it could be justified as a mistake, though it most certainly was not. He pushed back the urge to hold you in place and kiss you as deeply as he wanted, just so he could get a taste of the sounds you would make against him. Instead he let you back away quickly, a rosy red already spreading from your ears to your chest.

“You’re welcome, Dove,” Sabo said, outwardly ignoring the flush on your face while his chest was near bursting with the evidence of the effect he had on you. He was a little concerned about the blood supply in your body since it all seemed to be pooling in your face. He hummed a little tune as he promptly left the room, reminding you to gather your things on his way out.

Your POV

As Sabo left you alone in the room with your face flaming hot, you heard Ace’s knock again. You looked at him, hoping that he wouldn’t tease you for your current state of disarray.

“Hey, can I come in?” Ace asked from the doorway, not entering without your permission.

“Yeah,” you said weakly, looking down at the belt buckle on the bed. It looked exactly like Ace’s except it was blue and had an “S” emblazoned on it.

“Sabo got that for you?” Ace grunted, nodding his head at the belt.

“Yeah, he said the S is for -”

“It’s for Sabo. He probably got jealous when he saw you wearing my belt and had to make his own for you to wear,” Ace said with a grin like Sabo’s possessiveness was all one big joke to him.

“Ace, it’s not funny. Sabo’s kind of…scaring me. I don’t know if -”

“Aw, relax. Sabo’s not gonna hurt you, he loves you. He just gets a little jealous sometimes. I mean, I understand. Everyone would, with a brother as attractive and famous as me,” he said with a grin and a wink. Despite your serious feelings about Sabo’s escalation, a soft laugh came from you. Ace could always make you laugh, no matter the situation, something you appreciated about him. You had a feeling Ace was not going to be receptive to your criticisms of Sabo anyway. Standing up, you walked over to Ace before stopping right in front of him. You were shorter, so you looked up and tried your best to apologize.

“ ‘M sorry I yelled at you,” you said to Ace while shuffling your feet like a child. Ace didn’t respond immediately and pulled you into a bear hug, your face close to his smelly armpit. Even so, you didn’t pull away. You were going to miss Ace a lot, he’d become a close friend. Well, one of your only friends.

“S’ok, I realized I said the wrong thing. I usually do. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Ace replied, still holding you in a hug.

“I know. I’m gonna miss you,” you said forlornly before breaking away from his hug. You weren’t looking forward to the sea voyage and especially not without Ace there as a buffer between you and Sabo.

“It’s not gonna be right away, we’re sailing in the same direction for a few weeks, and we’ll see each other on the RA ship. Sabo told me Luf is on his way to Wano and there’s trouble brewing. I’m gonna go help out, see if I can’t find some of my old crew. I owe a….friend a visit there anyway,” Ace said with a slight flush coating his cheeks.

“Friends hmm? Like we’re friends?” you asked teasingly. Ace blushed harder, giving you the answer you were looking for.

“Uh, no. Not like our friendship. He’s uh..special friend. Really more like a boyfriend,” Ace muttered, moving the strings of his hat around nervously.

“I hope to meet him one day, I’m sure he’s wonderful,” you said brightly.

“He is. He’s Kaido’s son but he’s incredible!” Ace said with a smile so wide it closed his eyes. Somehow you weren’t surprised Ace would know someone like that, much less date them.

“I can’t believe Sabo gave you the key to my room,” you said, changing the subject.

“Oh, he didn’t. I stole it from him. ‘S easy, I’m a better pickpocket than he is,” Ace said proudly.

“Are not. I let you take it,” Sabo balked, leaning on the doorframe with a crate in his arms. “C’mon, the ship’s nearly here. We need to pack up your things, whatever you want to take. I’m not sure if or when we’ll be back here. Kinda sad, I’m gonna miss Ace’s depression island,” Sabo teased, placing the crate on the floor.

“Hey, it was our depression island,” he said, gesturing to you. Sabo rolled his good eye at Ace’s dumb joke but watched your expression.

“Sunny, please get moving. I can’t imagine you have all that much here but please go through my things and bring what you want,” Sabo encouraged you. You nodded and started going through the closet, folding up the clothes you’d been wearing over the past few weeks. Going to the chest with the warmer clothes, you opened the trunk to grab some of the thicker sweaters. Sabo’s expression soured but he didn’t say anything as you packed sweaters and long sleeved shirts, familiar with the changing seasons on the Grand Line. It didn’t take you long to pack up the meager belongings you’d been using. You placed the album gently in the middle of your clothes, making sure it was protected by the soft fabrics. Sabo’s eyes flashed as you pushed the belt through the loops of his pants that you were wearing, tightening the buckle so it sat snugly on your abdomen. It was a perfect fit.

Sabo looked over the room to ensure you hadn’t left anything you would want in the future as Ace grabbed his pillow and the quilt off the bed.

“I thought you don’t get cold?” you asked, confused. Since Ace had been sharing a bed with you, the thin quilt had been more than enough to keep you warm since being near Ace was like laying on a hot rock in the middle of summer.

“I don’t, but Bepo made this for me. It has sentimental value,” Ace said, stuffing the blanket in the box. You took it out and folded it nicely, placing it on top of your album.

“I guess I forgot you’d know Bepo too. He made this? He’s such a multi-talented mink, I’d love to pick his brain one day. Did you also get to meet Penguin and Shachi?” you asked excitedly.

“Yeah, they were super helpful during my recovery. Nice guys, if they weren’t Law’s crew I would invite them to Whi - I mean, my own,” Ace said, running his fingers over the quilt.

“How do you know Law and his crew? Did you meet them at Warlord meetings?” Sabo asked a bit too quickly, holding his metal pipe in both hands.

“No, I’ve never met him. Law often dedicates his scientific articles to his brothers. And everyone knows about Bepo. He’s the cutest pirate on the seas,” you mused aloud.

“Not me?!” Ace said with a pout. You booped his nose and smiled at him.

“No, not you. Bepo,” you said to tease him a little further. You heard the ruffle of Sabo’s coat whipping around as he left the room in a rush, his unusually loud footsteps echoing down the stairs as a whiff of acrid smoke hit your nose. Ace gave you a knowing look and took off after his brother, laughing as he bounded down the stairs.

Sabo’s POV

Sabo was gripping the wood railing of the porch so tight it was cracking under his palms. Sabo was annoyed with himself; he needed to get his emotions under control. He knew your interactions with Ace were purely platonic and they didn’t mean anything. But he’d realized now you and Ace had been sharing a bed and had grown closer than he’d previously thought. The man in question came sauntering out onto the porch before sitting on the already abused railing.

“Don’t say it,” Sabo said preemptively, cutting off Ace from whatever bullshit he was about to spout.

“You’re pouting,” Ace said cheerfully.

“Am not,” Sabo said, defending himself immediately.

“Yes, you are. You’re gonna scare her away if you don’t control your jealousy,” Ace said in a singsong voice, dangling his feet from his perch. Sabo knew Ace was right but he didn’t want to hear it right now.

“I’m not taking advice from you, you never even told Yamato how you feel about him,” Sabo snapped at Ace. Ace pouted and looked away, making Sabo feel guilty. Being mean to Ace was like kicking a puppy, a dumb puppy.

“You’ve got a second chance at life, you can tell him now. Go to Wano, meet up with Lu, Marco, Izo, whoever you want to. Help Luffy, he’s already an Emperor -”

“I know, I know. I just wish…I wish Pops was here. He’d know what to do, he’d -” Ace said wistfully. Sabo moved closer to his brother and put his hand on Ace’s shoulder.

“Ace, you know what to do. Don’t let his death be in vain. Go and -,” Sabo started softly, patting Ace’s back. The tender moment was interrupted by a timid knock on the open door.

“Don’t blow it this time. Just be calm,” Ace leaned over to whisper into Sabo’s good ear. Sabo pushed Ace away. By the face.

“I, um, finished packing. I put all the amoebas into a bottle if that’s OK,” you said in a meek voice while holding a glass bottle filled with water. Ace gasped aloud at your proclamation.

“All of them? In one bottle? Is that safe? What if something happens to them? Will they fight each other? Eat each other?” Ace said with complete sincerity. You raised your hand and shook your wrist, the bangle moving up and down.

“I can’t really tell right now,” you replied forlornly before handing the bottle to Ace for his inspection.

“I’m sure they’re going to be OK. Ace is going to go grab the crate and we’ll head out,” Sabo stated, pushing Ace back towards the house. Hopefully, he got the hint that Sabo wanted to talk to you, but with Ace it was hard to tell.

“I have something to ask you,” Sabo began. You shifted on your feet and started rubbing your fingers against each other in an effort to self soothe. Sabo had noticed your hands had started shaking again during your earlier conversation though he hadn’t said anything.

“Would you like to take medicine to make you sleep through the first three days of the journey? This trip is longer than the last and we’re going to be sailing through notoriously rough waters. We’re equipped this time with more medical supplies for you, but I thought I would offer you the choice. The medicine will make you sleep but not unrousable in case of an emergency,” Sabo explained while you chewed your lip. You hadn’t agreed yet and were eyeing him suspiciously, but this was truly for your benefit.

“You can think about it, but we’re sailing within the hour. I’d like to give it to you before we leave, that way you can just sleep through the worst of the sailing. I’ll have to keep giving it to you every 12 hours and you can decide to use it or not at each juncture,” Sabo said, reaching for your hands and holding them within his own. He had been correct, they were shaking. Running his fingers over the tops of your hands, he continued to try to assuage your fears.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you. Ace will be with us for meals, of course, I’ll be there, and we’ll check on you. I don’t want you to have to go through sea sickness like you did before, on Striker and the first time we sailed together,” Sabo said before bringing your hand to his mouth to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

Your POV

Studying Sabo’s face gave you none of the answers you were looking for. His idea had appeal, you really didn’t want to be seasick again especially since you had just recovered from being on Striker. Being conscious or not didn’t change your situation since you were just as vulnerable awake as you were asleep. You’d been unconscious around Sabo many times and he’d never done anything untoward to you - that you could remember. Even with Sabo pushing your boundaries, all he’d asked for was a kiss on the cheek. Taking a gamble, you made up your mind to just sleep through the first few days on the ship.

“Alright, I’ll take the medicine,” you said, not pulling away when Sabo continued stroking your hands.

“Excellent,” Sabo replied, his genuine smile showing on his face once more. Of course he was happy, you thought, you were agreeable to one of his plans. Reaching into his inner coat pocket, Sabo pulled out a capped syringe as Ace passed through the door, carrying the crate down the path to the waiting ship. The syringe was clearly from a Marine base, the familiar symbol emblazoned on the side. You idly wondered how Sabo came into possession of Marine narcotics but decided it wasn’t a question worth asking. You weren’t sure you wanted to know anyway.

“Why don’t you sit down on the couch inside? It takes a few minutes to work but not that long,” Sabo suggested, not waiting for your answer while herding you inside. Perching on the couch, Sabo flicked off the cap of the syringe with a practiced movement. “Ready? Small pinch,” Sabo said, grabbing your right arm. You felt a prick as the needle went into the muscle of your tricep and a small rush of cold liquid entered your arm. Sitting there for a moment, you didn’t feel any different than before as Sabo went to throw away the syringe.

“ ‘M not sure it’s working….” you said, already closing your eyes. Sabo chuckled as you lay down and curled up on the couch, ready for the journey to be over already.

You came to consciousness in bursts, confusion overtaking your mind as you tried to sort through the haze of the past three days. You found yourself back in Sabo’s bed, wrapped up in his blankets as the ship sliced through the waters. Bile was rising in your throat, though not as quickly as you’d experienced before, you probably had about ten minutes before you’d be throwing up. Thinking back, you tried to remember anything from the previous few days and could come up with only hazy memories.

You remembered being woken to drink water and juice, throwing up a few times as Sabo held back your hair, Ace coming into the bed with you for a nap. You remembered violent dreams of being rocked back and forth, probably as the ship teetered through the rough seas. You remembered Sabo asking you if you wanted more medicine, already feeling the prick of the needle in your arm before you could fully verbalize that you did. You remembered dozing off while sitting on Sabo’s lap, your face nestled in his neck, his arms around you as he wrote letters. You recalled Sabo curled around your body in the bed, warming you as you fell deeper into sleep beside him. You remembered Sabo kissing your cheek and forehead, running his hands up and down your back to soothe you.

Carding through your memories, you sat up for what felt like the first time in ages, stretching your sore muscles. Sabo’s idea really had been a good one.

“Hi,” you said, your voice rough after not using it for so long.

“Hi yourself. Feeling better?” Sabo replied, coming to sit next to you on the bed. You nodded while peering out the window at the night sky. You didn’t know what time it was or even what day it was.

“Are you hungry? Dinner’s just being served. I can get you some and bring it here. I’m not going to give you any more injections but the last one isn’t completely worn off yet. You’ll probably fall back asleep soon.” Sabo offered while fluffing your pillows.

“Can I get something to drink -” you started asking as Sabo handed you a cup off the nightstand. You drank greedily, gulping down the water until there was none left. Nothing had ever tasted as good as the clear cool water you were enjoying now.

“Where’s Ace? I thought he joined the ship for meals?”

“He took a detour, he’ll catch up with us in a few days. There’s a small island nearby that he wanted to stop at for supplies. Probably for more food, too,” Sabo replied, rolling his eyes.

Sabo POV

All good things come to an end, he supposed. Sabo had loved having you as a docile little pet for a few days. All of your hesitation, fear, and worry was gone under the medication, leaving you relaxed and calm. He loved taking care of you and helping you in your time of need as you fought through your seasickness. Sabo had been able to move you about as he pleased like a doll, your chest rising and falling evenly as you slept through the turbulent waters. He did miss your conversation and personality but having you so close was delightful in its own way. He didn’t do anything too devious, he’d kept his word to you. Only a few forehead and cheek kisses. And one kiss on your neck, but that was basically an accident as he’d been spooning with you and you’d turned in your sleep. He’d spent so long daydreaming about you when he was away, it was only fair to hold you close now that you were reunited. The trip was about a week longer - he had plenty of time to break down your walls before introducing you to the rest of the RA.

Sakazuki POV

Admiral Sakazuki was on his fifth cigar of the morning. He couldn’t stop himself, it was the only thing keeping him from burying his desk in a field of lava. His rage was so potent, so strong, that he feared he would irreparably harm his beloved bonsai plant if he stopped smoking. Sitting at his desk, he held the fourth copy of the photo he’d received from Shadow Island. The first three he’d burned, much like the man they depicted. Fire Fist Ace had been spotted buying meat kebabs from a street vendor, the scar Sakazuki had given him prominently displayed on his chest like a shield. His source had also revealed Ace had his Logia powers since he was able to fire up that damnable little boat and sail away from the island.

First your kidnapping, then Bayonette being burned to the ground, then Fire Fist Ace being alive and well. Sakazuki knew they were all connected, everything tying back to the ASL Brothers. If he could have killed all three of them at Marineford, he would have. He certainly tried and thought he succeeded with at least one. But just like his father, luck always seemed to be on the side of Portgas D. Ace. Burning quickly through the cigar, Sakazuki flicked the ash onto the smiling man in the photo, decimating the image once again.

He wasn’t sure how Flame Emperor Sabo and Fire Fist Ace both had the Flame Flame fruit, but his intuition told him it had something to do with you. Your disappearance was no mistake, the RA must have found out about your research and seized you at the right opportunity. He needed you back, especially if you were able to replicate Logia fruit, something not even Vegapunk had been able to do thus far. Maybe he could have a Seraph of his own, another lava fruit able to be commanded at his word. Either way, you needed to be brought back to the Marines and away from the Revolutionary Army.

Rising from his chair, Sakazuki picked up his snail and barked an order.

“Prepare my ship for immediate departure.”

Taglist: @mfreedomstuffm @epochal-oracle

#under the microscope au #jealous sabo #sabo x reader #revolutionary sabo #sabo x you #fire fist ace #portgas d ace #ruh roh #op x y/n #yandere Sabo #tw yandere

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unholyhelbig · 1 year ago

Note

the oversight part 5? i love that series!

Title: The Oversight [Part 5/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 7589

Warnings: Blood, guns, general violence, empty threats, angst, and horrible grammar.

[A/n: Listen, I straight up just finished watching 'The Iron Claw' and if you value your ability to hold it together, I suggest not seeing it. But also... go see it because it's phenomenal. Oh, and Happy Holidays!, like with most things, I regret my direction on this.]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Softly, you denied the small wooden bowl that was passed person to person, filled with numbers scribbled haplessly on strips of paper. There was a pit of guilt in your stomach for not bringing a white elephant gift- but as the honorary plus one of Darcy Lewis you succumbed to your fate. She’d drawn a middle grade number and sidled up next to you with her third vodka tonic.

You took a swallow of your own cranberry flavored drink, something that masked the sharp taste of alcohol. You were feeling fuzzy, but in the light way that would assure you’d get through the rest of party and the competitive game of gift swapping.

“Thanks for doing this,” Darcy said to you, nudging your shoulder “it was a little too fancy for my liking.”

She had stressed that she needed your presence to get through all the small talk about science. Darcy was an expert engineer but she could only go so far when it came to awkward co-workers murmuring amongst the twinkling Christmas lights and pre-paid meals. She got along well with most, but you could sense her anxiety well.

“Of course, you know I’d never turn down smoked salmon.”

Truthfully, it sounded a lot better than what your own work was planning. It took some quiet background checks and calling babysitting references, but you eventually conceded to a teenage girl that was certified in CPR and didn’t charge interest.

Your own holiday celebration at the Diner had been lackluster and consisted of much more alcohol. This was quiet and subdued, and a welcome break from the usual chaos that surrounded your life. You were more than happy to watch people tear paper from candles and blankets and ornaments.

“How much money do you want to put on Jimmy bringing some sort of magic kit?”

You hadn’t noticed the girl that hugged the side of the bar, waving down the bartender wordlessly. She was drinking something sweet and garnished with orange. She had a beautiful smile and the clearest eyes you had ever seen. Darcy smiled at her with familiarity and it eased you.

“I don’t bet on things I’m going to lose.” Darcy said with finality. “Y/n, this is Monica Rambeau.”

“It’s nice to meet you,”

Her grip was firm, and you squeezed her hand back with the same amount of pressure. Her smile widened at that before the bartender returned with a fresh drink garnished with another twirled orange peel. The two of you separated.

“So, Monica, what do you do?”

Something in science, the answer was obvious if she was at this holiday party. But she humored you all the same, turning her back to the counter and leaning close to you. There was pride in her answer, and it bloomed in her chest.

“I’m a mechanical engineer, specializing in astrophysics and astrobiology.”

“Don’t’ sell yourself short.” Darcy interjected with a watery laugh “She’s the head of our S.W.O.R.D division.”

Darcy had spoken about this before and the name rang familiar. Her company was looking at alternative fuel sources that could supply space exploration. All the while, they focused on vertical growing and bettering the community. From what you understood, this was a big deal. She was a big deal.

“Wow, that’s very impressive Ms. Rambeau”

Your voice was filled with genuine awe, but your conversation was cut short when the number sixteen was called out. Monica sheepishly pulled herself away from the bar and held her strip of paper up before approaching the table filled with wrapped gifts. She went for a medium-sized one adorned in reindeer.

“Oh wow!” She forced a smile, voice sweet like honey “A magic kit!”

The air in your room was stale and fought you as you pulled it into your lungs. You’d, at some point, kicked off your comforter and were splayed out on your sheets in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and an oversized shirt. Sweat hat soaked through both and the fabric clung to your skin.

On a blind instinct you grabbed at the gun under your nightstand, fastened by nothing more than duct tape. You could feel your heart in your throat and struggled to swallow it down again. You weren’t sure when this became second nature for you, something within the last two months of accompanying Natasha to the gun range for hours a time.

All the same, you held the tip of the weapon to the ground and rounded the corner of your bedroom into the dark hallway. You were unsettled from the dream you’d just had. The memory. Your subconscious had finally connected the woman who stood at Carol’s side. Her familiarity.

Monica Rambeau.

It was true, there was a stark coldness to her when you’d met at a Christmas party just the year before. It was only in passing and there were moments, like at the fair, when Darcy would mention her co-worker.

This changed things. Anxiety spiked haplessly, even as you diligently searched and cleared each room the way you had been taught. Keep your gun down, keep your eyes on the darkest corners of the room, ready to fire your weapon at any point. Especially if it was aimed at Natasha.

There was the slight movement of a shadow to your left and you quickly raised the gun, aiming it directly at the disturbance. Veronica stood on a chair in the kitchen, struggling to fill a glass with warm water, the only temperature that the faucet would allow.

You let out a quiet, mortified sigh before tucking the weapon into the waistband of your shorts. Your daughter blinked with wide eyes and that same guilty feeling flooded you at once, overtaking the anxiety.

“Baby,” You breathed, closing the distance between you and flicking on the overhead lights. You both flinched at their harshness but eventually blinked the shock away. “What are you doing up?”

You didn’t expect an answer, nor did you get one. Instead, you scooped her up under her arms and set her gently on the linoleum. There was water in the fridge, but she always had issues pouring it from the large jug. Ronnie was stubborn and shot you a frown at your intrusion.

“Don’t give me that look, kid.”

Her expression eased and you dumped the water down the drain before refilling the glass with something colder and more refreshing. Ronnie gulped it down eagerly, soaking the collar of her shirt with the liquid. She let out an appeased noise and wiped the rest of the water away from her mouth. She stood on her tip-toes and placed the glass in the sink.

“Couldn’t sleep, huh? Me either.”

You tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She blinked tiredly at you, your heart melting at the sight. It was easy to remember the words Natasha had trusted you with on the Ferris Wheel. Veronica would talk when she wanted to, but you had become quite good at reading her expressions and movements. Within the last month, you had stopped the long drives and the specialists. It eased you both.

“How about a sleepover?”

The exhaustion turned into joy and then combined within her look. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you scooped her up. She was getting too big for this, but you didn’t much care. You’d gotten stronger in the last few months and even if you hadn’t, you’d do the same.

With a show of dramatics you tossed her onto the bed and replaced the duvet that you’d flung off. Carefully, as Ronnie’s stare averted, you placed the gun in the drawer next to your bed. The last thing you did was prop the window open, letting out the flat air and letting in the sound of the city.

Ronnie was pulled flush against your chest in a matter of moments, though you had suddenly lost all exhaustion. You listened to the sirens, to the calls of people just ending their nights. If you listened hard enough, you could hear the horns of the boats that settled into the harbor.

“I love you so much.” You whispered into the small of her neck, “One day I’m going to get us out of here.”

Veronica didn’t respond, but the squeeze her little hand gave yours was all the reassurance that you needed.

Clint swallowed down steaming black coffee without blowing on it to cool it down. The nutty scent filled the cab of the car and warmed your nerves. He drank like your daughter did, but with the purpose of waking himself up before the sun. You never did get back to sleep and were wired enough to refuse the cup he offered you this morning.

He’d knocked on your door as the orange sun moved over the horizon. You were to accompany him to the docks to check on business. This somehow seemed less intimidating than the dinner you’d attended with Natasha.

“It’ll be easy. We have a chokehold on the harbor, we just have to check with a few of the vendors to collect their dock rent and call it a day. Everything else is done under the table. People aren’t too happy because at the end of the day, we’re the ones that take money from them. But it’s a necessary evil.”

You nodded and watched as the city went by. It was peaceful, quiet. There had been a single foster home that you stayed in that had a view of the entire skyline. You were too far away to see the bustling people and the everyday chaos that accompanied it.

There were, of course, moments of calm when you would work the early morning shift at the diner. But that would always shatter by the time you made the two minute walk from your apartment to the back door that was choked with the scent of garbage and cheap cigarettes.

“We have some invitations to hand out too. In the glovebox.”

You furrowed your brow and popped it open. His weapon (or his second, or third) sat upon a stack of manilla cards with elegant writing on them that had to be done by hand. You inspected them but didn’t’ dare separate the paper.

“What are these for?”

“Nat throws a party for her benefactors every single year. It’s real fancy, a suit and tie thing. Her renters are invited too and if they have the balls to show up, they always have a good time. She makes sure of it.”

“We’re expected to attend?”

He nodded, “It’s a requirement, really. As Natasha’s right hand. You go where she goes and once your probationary period is over, you’ll be on her like glue. Though, I don’t think that’ll be much of a problem.”

You frowned at his statement, his insinuation. Sure, you had gotten close to Natasha, had even grown to like her. She had a way of getting under your skin until it felt like she lived in it. Otherwise, you would have cut your losses long ago and let her slit your throat the first moment she met you.

There was a feeling of devotion that you felt the need to uphold. She had spared your life, after all. You’d spent the last two and a half months with her guiding you, teaching you how to obey her every word. Without fault, you would. Clint knew it, Kate and Yelena knew it. You knew it.

Instead of admitting it, you frowned and slumped further in your seat, struggling to ignore Clint’s own shit-eating expression. By the time he pulled to a stop, it had started to drizzle enough for him to flick his wipers on. The sound of them scraping against the window filled the silence.

You took careful attention to stay quiet and observe. Your gun was strapped carefully to your side and the invitations rested in your side pocket. You didn’t dare get them wet and let the ink run in a soupy mess. It had been years since you’d been out here and part of you was unsteady on the aged and slick wood.

“Sam is a cool guy. His family has hold on a good portion of the harbor. He likes to joke, so don’t pay him any mind.” Clint jabbed you with his elbow. “And loosen up a little bit, would you?”

You glowered at him and rubbed the stiff spot on your ribs but felt your shoulders lower a bit. There was a lot of weight behind this, that had been made clear to you the second you were inducted into this system.

Instead of heading directly down the long stretches of worn dock, Clint took a turn just before the asphalt ended. A small structure that looked less weathered than the rest of your surroundings rested at the lots end. The windows were thick enough to withstand the watery winds.

Clint stilled his large hand shooting out across your chest. It took you a few seconds to clock the shattered glass on the front door. Small smears of crimson pocked the shards that remained. Much like the evening before, you drew your gun on instinct, and Clint did the same.

He didn’t take care to hide your presence. Instead, he took the brunt of his large boot and cracked through the doorframe with the force of one kick. Wood splintered, raining down on linoleum and a desk that was easily from the 70’s.

You could smell the blood before you saw it, nearly sliding on the flooring. You caught yourself before that happened, heart pounding in your ears. “Fuck!”

“Jesus Christ,” Clint mirrored your sentiments.

Whoever had been here was long gone, but they’d left quite the mess. They’d torn through the filing cabinets, leaving legal papers and folders scattered against the desk and the expanse of cabin space.

You tracked the source of the pooling blood with little difficulty. A man- one that you had rightly never seen before- was laying on his back, facing the ceiling. From edge to edge of his throat was a long cut leaking an ugly red color. His stare was frosty, soaked into his sweatshirt.

It was like a car crash, something that you struggled to avert your eyes from until Clint physically grasped your chin and turned your attention to him. “Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, yes. Good.” You answered cooly, swallowing whatever dryness was in your throat. “Who would do something like this?”

“Carol… one of her lackeys. This is an eye for an eye thing.”

Even if it was an act of revenge, this was extensive. It sent a clear message even if you didn’t’ exactly know all the specifics of the feud. Of course, you’d seen Yelena at work and even that was mild compared to the brutality of this.

The thought of Monica, if it even had been her, completing a task as unfeeling as this filled your veins with ice. You felt your nails dig into your palms, soft and stinging. There was a surge of anger, and sadness that mixed into resolution. Natasha was right to despise the Danver’s family. Any family that treated the world with this much cruelty.

Natasha was in the gym on the second floor. Large windows overlooked the backyard, and a prolonged view of the harbor. There were blue mats adorning the floor, and a few wracks meant for weightlifting.

You had never seen this part of the house before. Usually the weather permitted sparring outside, but the late summer rain had made that impossible. Sheets of water obscured your usual view, though, it wasn’t exactly trained on the windows.

Natasha had her back facing you, her breathing timed evenly with each punch she threw at an 80-pound bag filled with sand. She wore tight-fitting shorts and a sports bra that left little to the imagination. Not that you had imagined her in that situation before.

Her muscles tightened and relaxed with each movement. They were scarred in a deep orchid pink, long ago healed. At one point, she was lashed. You recognized the damage done by a leather belt and shivered at the memory of it.

Natasha was fit, she was coated in a layer of sweat that dripped across her strength. You had to be clear minded for this and the state of her wasn’t making it easy on you. Her knuckles were wrapped, and she would grunt with each thrust of her fist. For just a moment, you wished you were under her mercy instead of the punching bag.

That broke when she panted against the bag, stopping its swinging with a firm grasp on either side. “Are you just going to stand there and watch?”

Natasha had focused her green eyes on you through the reflection of the window. Of course, you hadn’t intended to gawk as long as you had. But you were leaning against the doorframe of the gym, practically drooling. You had forgotten yourself and you wouldn’t’ put it past Natasha to notice.

She turned to you, a wolfish smile on her face. “Take your jacket off. Holster too.”

You struggled to ignore the haughty expression on her face when you did exactly what she said without question, almost too eagerly, depositing them on the edge of the mat. You pushed your shoes off too, knowing not to track mud on any of Natasha’s carpets.

Her eyebrow lifted at the action. She’d moved closer during your actions, and you’d nearly run into her before noticing. Her presence was intoxicating. All-consuming.

“You’re here to tell me something,” She proclaimed “you’ve got that adorable look on your face. It’s good to know someone in this house still fears me.”

She was joking and it tugged at your heart to send that mood down to the ground before lighting it on fire. You’d expected her to be in poorer spirits after Clint had called her and let her know what had happened at the harbor. Instead, she responded in her same calculated coolness that she regarded you with now.

There was nothing about her demeanor that eased you, and suddenly, it felt like you were being scolded for a decision you had made. Even more so when she grasped your chin and forced you to look at her.

“That woman with Carol from the other night. I know her. Briefly.”

“Briefly?”

“As in, I met her at a Christmas party a few years back and… left with her.”

Natasha’s grip tightened against your chin, her thumb digging into your jaw. There was too much alcohol flowing that night and after making stinted conversation about how to disconnect two metal rings smoothly, the two of you went back to her apartment.

Before the sun came up, you left. There was shame in it, and the walk back to your own apartment punctuated with Darcy’s scolding was enough to make you forget the encounter altogether. It was one night- a fun night, but singular all the same.

Natasha let out a small noise of disapproval that sunk straight to your core. “Is that so?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Does she remember you?”

“It… didn’t seem like it.”

Her eyes narrowed, nose a short distance from your own. You could feel the hotness of her breath against your throat. How you had disappointed her. That much was clear from the lack of tenderness in her grasp. She eventually released you, trailing her fingers down the expanse of your neck.

She played with the small charm of your necklace, nothing more than a dainty gold chain with the tiniest whisper of a diamond in the center. Your skin prickled at the sensation, breath audibly catching as she worked her fingers over the length of chain.

“Well, I suppose this could be a problem. Especially with Carols violent behavior lately.”

Natasha sighed dramatically, and within an instant her nimble hand had tightened around your throat. She walked you the three steps backwards to the nearest wall. The small of your back landed with a heady thud and you used the last of your available breath to grunt out in protest.

Of course, you had seen her angry before, but it was never directed at you. Not like this. She wasn’t squeezing tight enough to injure you, not really. But the shock of the movement had made you think she would end you all the same.

“You should have come to me right away, pet.” Her grasp tightened; words growled. “And here I thought you were such a good, obedient, girl.”

Her words filled you with an immense shame for letting her down. Over the past few months, it had become impossible to be anything but perfect for Natasha Romanoff. The fact that you hadn’t connected the dots sooner was disillusioning.

The grip against your throat loosened ever so slightly as she leaned closer, her lips nearly ghosting your own. You could barely taste her, a strangled whimper escaping you. She pressed her body close. It was warm and overwhelming.

“I expect you to handle this on your own if it becomes a problem, darling.”

Before you could close the distance, Natasha pulled away from you entirely. It left you panting against the wall, wanting for something more. She knew exactly what she was doing. You craved her more than anything, and she had brought you so close to something you both wanted before denying it altogether.

Natasha sauntered, actually sauntered, across the gym and grabbed a towel from a nearby bench. She regarded you with flushed cheeks, her eyebrow raised as if nothing had just happened and you supposed that nothing did.

“Clint has told you about the party?” It took a few seconds before you found your voice, after her gentle urgings “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes ma’am. He did.”

She reached for a water bottle, exchanging it’s spot on the bench for the towel. She takes three hungry swallows, and you watched the way her throat moved in response to the water. Each of her movements seemed deliberate, nearly calculated to get a reaction out of you.

“Perfect. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours about what to wear. I’ll lay a dress out in your room.”

“My room?” Your words were squeaked.

There was a short hum in response as she gulped down another helping of water before setting it down entirely. That anger had ebbed away from her almost entirely. The fire that had been within her eyes excited you, and despite yourself, so did her demands.

“You’re so skittish. Come here. We need to work on your lead hook.”

Natasha didn’t offer to wrap your knuckles, nor did you ask. Instead, you leaned into the bag, letting the course material cut into your knuckles with a welcoming sting.

There was great thought put into any Romanoff party that was thrown. Lights were wrapped around the banister, and caterers walked through the teems of people with unwavering silver trays of finger food that cost more than your old salary for a number of months.

Back storm doors were opened to the pool, lit up and buzzing with an equal amount of people. Natasha had hired a piano player who haplessly pressed down on keys and drew a small crowd with each song that would crescendo into the dining room.

The overlapping theme was a dark forest green that reminded you much of the paint color slathered on Natasha’s bedroom walls. Something you hadn’t seen in months, but remembered so fondly. It was clear that she wanted to present a united force, something strong and unwavering in their power.

Clint was dawned with a finely pressed suit and a deep green tie that matched the shade of Kate’s dress to the very hue. She wore something silk and modest, reaching down to her heeled feet but leaving her muscular arms entirely bare.

Yelena stunned in a dress of her own, a crushed sage velvet that had a dipping neckline and sleeves that met at her wrist. By the confidence of her stride, you had no trouble believing she had chosen the outfit with the thought of how many weapons she could conceal. Her devilish smile only confirmed your thoughts.

As of you, Natasha had picked out something a little more revealing. Much like the maroon number she wore to dinner the other night, the dress she chose for you hugged every inch of your body. Its fern color complimented your complexion, bringing out the redness of your cheeks.

A slit moved from the base of your dress to the middle of your thigh. A halter neckline clung to your breasts, nearly pushing them up and out. It had been years, high school prom, since you’d worn something even close to this. You felt your shoulders flush red when you descended the stairs and struggled to blend in.

Natasha was sidled up by the mantel in deep conversation with someone who was a stranger to you. Most of the people here were. Though, their hands gave way to their high-ranking positions in the city. Few had callouses or oil stains.

She was in a three-piece suit that was color matched to your own outfit down to the shade. There were gold accents on her jewelry and the neckline of her waistcoat dipped down the tanned expanse of her skin.

Kate let out a low whistle in response to your entrance as she offered you a hand at the base of the stairs. You’d almost missed the last one due to your shameless gawking at the woman of the party. “Quite the looker, y/n. Natasha chose this?”

“Naturally,”

She chuckled softly, a small sound “Nothing if not calculating. Do you know how to socialize at one of these things?”

“Mm, as the caterer, yes.”

This seemed to amuse her more than you’d like. Katherine Elizabeth Bishop was a name that you had reluctantly googled early on in your employment. She had grown up wealthy and well acquainted with gatherings such as these. Of course, that was before her mother wound up incarcerated for white-collar crimes. The skills seemed to benefit her here, however.

Kate did everything with practiced fluidity that you envied. She plucked two champagne glasses from a nearby tray. “Only one of these, nurse it like your life depends on it. That way they won’t keep trying to shove alcohol into your hands. This is work, after all.”

You followed her lead and took a small sip of the bubbling, sour liquid. It was more expensive than anything you had ever had before and far-from-palatable. It wouldn’t be had to keep the drinking at bay.

“The man that Yelena is schmoozing over there is Billy Russo. Jigsaw. He’s in charge of the lower quarter. The Romanoff’s and the Russo’s have a cordial relationship and Yelena is much more feared than him.”

“Why do they call him jigsaw?” You whispered.

“He tends to chop people into pieces until they’re impossible to put back together. And that’s if you find all the missing parts. He has a very nice summer home up in the Poconos, so don’t get on his bad side.”

Suddenly the drink in your hand didn’t look too bad, but you held it right where it was. Clint was laughing by the window, obviously pushing his charm on a woman that you had never clocked before. She was running her fingers up his tie, tightening it before letting her hands drop.

“Barton is with Ophelia Sarkissian, the Viper. She is known for her cunning leadership. She’s got a huge organization in Hell’s Kitchen. Something called Hydra. I wouldn’t worry too much about it though because Natasha is keeping a tight eye on it.”

“Mm, cut one head off, two more grow back.”

“What?”

“Greek mythology. Hydra is a big water snake that has nine heads. Each time one was cut off two more would grow back in its place. It was practically unkillable until Hercules came through the marshes with his nephew. Hercules would slice each head off while Iolaus cauterized the wounds so the heads couldn’t grow back.”

Kate blinked at you with shock in her eyes. You simply gave her a shrug in return. People constantly underestimated you and your intelligence. Besides, when you were a child, you had a morbid fascination with Greek mythology as a whole.

She stared beyond your shoulder, lilting her head to the side.

“I didn’t realize that Natasha’s new plaything was so knowledgeable.”

Ice ran thorough your veins. Your eyes darted to the window where Clint and Mrs. Sarkissian had once been. It was vacant now, and an expertly painted hand drummed past your arm. They were sharp and sent chills down your spine as she rounded you, sidling up next to Kate.

“Trust fund kid, leave us.”

Kate drew in a sharp breath, straightening her shoulders. She nearly opened her mouth to stay something but thought better of it before shooting you a look of apology and vanishing into the crowd in the dining room.

Ophelia was intoxicating in her presence. She towered over you and wore snakeskin heels to widen the distance. She wore a tight-fitted black dress that had cuts on either side, exposing her toned stomach to the world. What she wanted with you wasn’t clear, but her hand toyed coyly with the neckline of your own dress, adjusting it.

“Word travels fast in this city. I just couldn’t wait to see it myself. Hearing that Natasha Romanoff of all people expelled her Winter soldier for a… Summer Sentient. All seasons are temporary, I suppose.”

“Expelled?”

The word had slipped from your tongue, and you quickly thought better of it when she settled her splayed hand against your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. It was cold, unfeeling. Unlike the fire that Natasha had instilled in you earlier.

There was a demonic smile that spread across her face, both of her eyebrows lifting as she let out an exaggerated grasp. It was clear that this woman, this leader, couldn’t keep her hands to herself in any manner, including the internal affairs that she dangled in front of you like a prize.

“Oh, did Natty not tell you? She had Bucky under her thumb for years, nearly a decade. A few months back, he was just gone. There’s a lot of gossip in these streets and not much of it is plausible, but I’d put money on this one.”

Again, her fingers danced over your collarbone. “Miss Romanoff is not known for her mercy, but after beating the Winter Soldier within an inch of his life, she let him go. He ran like any sensible man would, of course. But he left a trail of blood behind him. I’m quite sure he’s somewhere out west struggling to move in an upper body brace.”

She laughed cruelly at the look on your face. There was no use in masking it. You knew that Bucky had been absent, but through your own turmoil you had forgotten all about it. Your stomach twisted in unease. What if Natasha grew tired of you? It was inevitable, really. You’ only prolonged your fate by bending to her whim.

“Ophelia,” Natasha’s voice drew your attention first, and then the heat of her touch on the small of your back. “Have you tried the lamb?”

The woman faltered, gritting her teeth “I was about to.”

“Oh, you must.” Yelena seemed to materialize out of nowhere, looping her arm around Madame Hydra herself. She pulled with intent. “I haven’t seen you since Moscow. We need to catch up!”

“I was never in Moscow.”

“That’s a shame. I can paint you a brilliant picture.”

Their voices faded away into the rest of the party. It was then that you noticed Clint by the door, his stance stiffened. Kate glowered next to him, not following her own rule and downing the rest of her drink before plucking another off the passing tray.

You stepped out of Natasha’s grasp, not wanting to be anywhere near her at the moment. Her perfume was intoxicating. Its floral scent made you dizzy and took away your ability to think straight. It was part of the reason you had been lulled this far into complicity. It scared you that you were willing to do anything for her.

“y/n,” she urged.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Natasha’s stare hardened. She gripped the back of your neck in a movement that would otherwise be familiar, sweet, even. However, the way she led you down the hallway made your stomach drop in a feeling of doom. “Not here, Malen'kiy krolik.”

Natasha’s office was strictly off limits, but you found yourself in the warmth of it in a matter of moments. There was no wall that wasn’t adorned with floor to ceiling bookshelves, and a large cherrywood desk was at its head. It was kept neat like the rest of the house.

There was a PHD on the wall, and an associates under that. Each bore Natasha’s name. She closed the doors behind her. Without regarding you, she went to a shelf in the back of the room, pouring herself a glass of bourbon, much like the one she was drinking when you stirred in her bed.

She swallowed it back, before pouring another. This time she sipped it. Your own back was against the far wall, heart pounding mercilessly through you. Yelling at Natasha had a lot more weight behind it than you anticipated.

“You’re going to do the same to me.” You eventually whispered.

Her body stiffened, muscles tightening and then releasing before she turned to you, her eyes reddened. “What?”

“I’ve been entirely blind to my purpose here. I’ve never… I’ve never understood why you chose me. Why not go for someone who knows what they were doing? Who knew how to protect you and care for you? You had that with Bucky.”

Her eyes hardened. “Don’t you ever mention that name in this house.”

“It’s the truth, Natasha! You could have let me die, just like that, and you didn’t. Instead, you took me in and trained me, and for what? Just to throw me into the harbor with cement blocks chained to my ankles.”

“That is an entirely outdated practice and frankly, it’s insulting.” Her words were soul deep, but they barely broke your skin. “I would never do that.”

“A bullet through the head, then?”

“No.”

You were gaining traction enough to pull yourself from the wall and take heady steps towards her. If you didn’t do it now, you would never. Part of you was certain that you’d never see the outside of this room again. That she’d snap and do exactly what you were imploring her to.

“He served you for years and within a singular night you nearly kill him.” Your breath shook, you were so close to her now. “What is stopping you from doing the exact same to me?”

“No, no” She reached up and grasped both sides of your face. There were tears against your cheeks, something you hadn’t realized dripped from your chin. “Malyshka, no don’t cry.”

Everything had come to a head; the months of non-stop training, the pressure of keeping this side of your life away from your daughter, away from Darcy. A true friend that you had been lying to. And now, knowing that it could be all for nothing. It was easy to dispose of someone like you.

There was no reason to show weakness in front of the woman who was training you not to feel anything at all. Above everything, you found yourself ashamed. She still held your face within her grasp.

“He hurt you.” Her jaw clenched and unclenched, there was a fuzzy vulnerability in her green stare. “I can show mercy, y/n. But I’ve learned, not when it comes to you. Even before all of… this, there was something that I saw within you. Something that made what I did to Bucky all the more worth it.”

You breathed in a watery sniffing sound that was replaced by nothing but a whimper. Natasha softened even more, letting her shoulders fall. She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“He was pulling back for months, and you were the final straw. I had never seen someone so resilient, someone who didn’t beg for their life but recounted it. In a moment of weakness, I let you go. I thought that training you, that making you mine, would absolve my sins but it’s only deepened them. My feelings for you have only deepened.”

Her forehead was pressed against yours, her ministrations, and God help you, her apologies were startling. Her lips were so close to yours; you could nearly taste the liquor on her breath “Natasha,”

Suddenly, she was all you could feel. Her hand was against you back, pulling you into her body to fit directly on hers. There was such a strong guiding power to her. Your shock was muffled by her mouth on yours, your whine swallowed in moments.

You melted into her, kissing back with enough fever to leave you both breathless. There were stars dancing in your vision, you lungs burning eventually pulling you both apart. She panted twice before pecking your lips once more, you nearly chased after her.

“Fuck,” she growled “you… are absolutely delicious.”

Your cheeks suddenly heated up and you hid your face in the small of her neck, letting out a small groan in embarrassment. You felt Natasha’s laugh rumble through her.

“No need to be timid, pet. There will be plenty of time for that later.” She raked her nails up your back, “Right now, I have a snake to behead.”

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 4 months ago

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I just bought the worst model ship kit I've ever seen because it was 10 dollars at Walmart. It is just several sheets of wooden pieces with no numbers or anything to indicate how to assemble it. The instructions are basically going "lol good luck. Look at the pictures and figure it out you dumbfuck." It does not include floss for the rigging (I make a lot of models so I have my own, that's okay). Gonna have to put this together based only on my knowledge of What a Boat Should Look Like. Will report back

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leapingbadger · 2 months ago

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Withdrawal

Summary: – Crosshair runs out of toothpicks on a mission and the rest of the Batch must feel his wrath.

Read on AO3

“Hunter, we’ve got a problem?” Tech said as he approached Hunter, sat at the communications array or the Marauder.

Hunter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was not what he wanted to hear after the last mission went awry, causing delays.

“Is there something wrong with the ship?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“No,”

“Are they fighting again? Just tell Wrecker to stop hitting him with Lula,” Hunter said as his hands prodded the keys on the console.

“No, it’s not that,” Tech said, shooting a worried glance behind him.

“Tech,” Hunter said, spinning his chair to face his brother, “I am good at many things, but mind reading isn’t one of them.”

“It’s Crosshair,” Tech whispered, “he’s on his last two toothpicks,”

Hunter stood up, shoving his brother into the cockpit, looking around for his severe brother. He lowered his voice, “how is that possible? What about the backup pack?”

“He lost it on Felicia” Tech said matter-of-factly.

“What about the one in the med kit?”

“He used it when Wrecker was piloting the Marauder.”

“Kriff it,” Hunter said under his breath. “Well, you said he had two left, right? Maybe he can make those last.”

“I suppose so,” Tech said, “we’re heading home soon, correct? maybe we won’t have to worry about it.”

Hunter looked shifty, “Actually we just got new orders. We’ll be gone another few rotations.”

A loud argument sounded from the steps of the ship.

“Wrecker, you made me break my toothpick.”

“Karabast!” Tech said.

“All I’m saying is, if we hadn’t dropped the explosives, we would have had a cleaner exit, and I wouldn’t currently be fixing blaster holes in the side of my ship.” Tech spat.

The fire crackled in from of them, the embers drifting steadily up into the dark night sky. Hunter heard strange noises emanating from the woods and was only partially paying attention to the argument in front of him.

“If we hadn’t dropped the explosives, you wouldn’t have a ship at all,” Wrecker growled, waving his ration stick threateningly at his brother.

“That is wholly inaccurate,”

“The Kriff it is,” Crosshair said, taking his toothpick out of his mouth and prodding the air between them with it.

Hunter and Tech exchanged a glance, “It doesn’t matter how we did it. It was another win. No matter how messy. The next one will be better,” Hunter said confidently, trying to cool the tempers. He took a bite of his ration stick and gave Tech a pointed look.

“I…I will yield in this particular case,” Tech said reluctantly.

“What?” Wrecker said dumbfounded, “that’s never happened before, has it Cross?” He hugged his stern brother before beating him in the face with his favorite tooka doll.

“Dank ferric, Wrecker. You made me drop my toothpick again,”

Tech caught Hunter’s eyes and shook his head slightly. The Sergeant ran his hands over his face and took a deep breath. It was going to be a long couple of days.

Crosshair had developed a fixation on his toothpicks thanks to a particularly surly bounty hunter during training. Frustrated with his penchant for sticking his tongue out as he took a shot, he gave him a toothpick to chew on and the rest was history. Hunter couldn’t remember a time when the floor of the barracks wasn’t littered with Crosshair’s discarded wooden shards, usually flicked in a moment of anger or for emphasis.

He had run out a couple of times over the years. Once when they were still cadets, and he’d only recently started using them. The somber mood that followed still gave Wrecker the occasional nightmare.

The next time was during one of their early missions as they were stuck behind enemy lines, unable to get to his backup on the Marauder. He had done his personal best during that mission. Taking out more droids than the rest of them combined. Hunter thought if he could have stabbed each droid in the eye with a toothpick he would have.

They were only a few hours into a toothpickless Crosshair, and the strain was already starting to show. He had pulled off his right glove and was gnawing on his fingernails. His thumbnail was already down to the quick.

“We have to do something, or he won’t have any nails left,” Hunter said to Tech quietly.

“Perhaps we could distract him. A game of Sabaac or some combat training?”

Hunter was already exhausted from the mission and had no desire to enter into hand to hand combat with a cranky Crosshair. He may lose a hand.

“What if we try to teach him other things? Maybe you can show him your datapad…”

“Crosshair had shown no interest in procurement of information or the datapad itself,” Tech said

“Kriff it, Wrecker, could you breathe any louder?” Cross snapped as Wrecker looked up alarmed.

Tech sighed, adjusting his goggles and walking to the back of the ship. “Crosshair, would you be interested in learning more about my datapad. It had the most up to date…”

“No…” Crosshair said sulkily, arms crossed over his chest.

Tech turned around immediately, “I tried,” he said to Hunter, nose buried in the datapad as he sank into the pilot’s seat.

Wrecker was bench pressing Gonky in the middle of the ship.

“Hey, Wreck. Maybe see if Cross wants to join you?” Hunter said encouragingly. Wrecker’s eyes lit up.

“Hey Cross, you wanna…”

“No,” The sniper said, feet dangling off the stairs to the gunner’s mount.

The next few days were tedious and long. Crosshair couldn’t interact with his brother’s without snarling but refused to admit to the reason. The mission was a success, almost an afterthought. Hunter wasn’t worried about surviving the Separatists and much as surviving his brother. A cloud followed Crosshair around wherever he went, and he was desperate to share the rain with the rest of them.

The night before they were set to leave, Hunter had had enough. Wrecker had made the fire three times larger than necessary. Flamed shot high over their heads into the starry night. He again heard rumblings in the forest at the edge of the clearing, but this time wasn’t able to tune out the bickering occurring around him.

“No cheating, Wrecker,” Cross hissed at his brother.

“I wasn’t,” Wrecker cried sounding wounded.

“You were trying to look at my cards,”

“I was not, Hunter was…”

Hunter took a deep breath and stood up, "enough of this. Crosshair, cover me. I’ll be right back,”

Crosshair looked questioningly as Hunner strode towards the tree line.

“What exactly are you…” Tech started but Hunter strode right past him, unsheathing his vibrokife as he did so.

Once at the trees he examined the bark, running his gloved hands over a couple before pausing. The bark on the tree in front of him was loose and peeling away. He pulled it off carefully revealing virgin wood underneath.

Hunter carefully cut a small section of the tree with his knife before barrel rolling out of the way of an unsee assailant, knife raised.

Pew! A single shot rang out from Crosshair’s firepuncher, scaring the creature away. Hunter nodded his thanks to his brother and continued to work before finally returning to the campfire.

“Thanks Cross,” he said as he sat down.

“Are you going to tell us what you were doing?”

“In a minute,” he said, still working his knife through the wood. “Did he stick his tongue out?” Hunter asked his brothers with a smile.

Tech and Wrecker laughed as they nodded their heads.

Crosshair growled but stopped as Hunter sat up straight and passed something to him.

“What’s this?” he asked, clearly already knowing the answer.

“Toothpicks. At least, makeshift ones until we get back to Kamino,”

Crosshair glanced down at the pile of misshapen wooden shards in his hand and nodded his thanks to his brother. He picked one up, tentatively placing one between his lips.

“I’m probably going to get a splinter,” he said, with a slight smile.

“You’re welcome, Crosshair.” Hunter said.

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erikcarson · 9 days ago

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Experience the joy of model shipbuilding with the Cape Cod Catboat Wooden Ship Kit, exclusively available at Ages of Sail. This wooden ship kit is designed for beginners and it features high-quality wooden parts and detailed instructions.

If you're passionate about historic sailboats, this kit is perfect for you. Order your kit now.

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woodenmodelkits · 18 days ago

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HMS Bounty Cutaway Hull large wooden ship model from Ages of Sail is a premium crafted model that features a cutaway hull, offers a detailed view of the ship’s interior.

Features:

Authentic Design & Fine Detailing

High-Quality Wooden Construction

This model reveals intricate interior details, making it a must-have for collectors and ship modelers. Buy Now at Ages of Sail.

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sovietpostcards · 5 months ago

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Vintage Matryoshka travel sewing kit holder (1989)

This wooden doll opens at the bottom to reveal a thread & needle holder. Size of the doll: 7.5 cm (3"). Looks new. There's a label tucked inside that says that it was made in Konstantinovo village near Zagorsk in 1989. Zagorsk (Sergiyev Posad) is an ancient Russian town, part of the Golden Ring, and famous for its wooden toy craft including matryoshkas.

Available for $16 + $16 international shipping with tracking number

Message me if you want to buy this! Other items in my shop. I combine shipping. How to buy.

#sp: available #sp: available: other

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naomihatake · 1 year ago

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In search of freedom (Ch. 4)

4. One step forward

Chapter 3 ; Chapter 4 ; Chapter 5

⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.

Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa

Warnings for this chapter: fluff, some angst, alcohol

Word count: 3.8k

Theme song: fic spotify playlist (click on the link)

A/N: Tons of interactions between Zoro and reader. Not a long chapter, but I wanted to offer more insight about the reader's past and the relationship she has with her crewmates. I know they travel from Syrup village to Baratie in a day, but I wanted this exact scenario, so let's say it took a half a day longer ;) Not proofread yet.

The reader is referred to as "Witch" because I have no intentions of using "Y/N".

I'm open for comments and opinions! <3

They spent the rest of the day buying supplies for the journey. With no previous discussions, they all came to the conclusion that Nami would handle the berries, with some opinions from the witch who was used to always saving up money.

The witch has loads of information and experience about the map of the stars above, so she decided to save Nami from a sleepless night. She already took a nap after they set sail a few hours before dawn, falling asleep after she laid down on the sofa in the cabin. She completely forgot about her wound, too tired to mind the pain at that time, as if she's got hit in the head again.

Now, she was purposely ignoring the ache. She analyzed the stars for long enough to figure out where they were heading. From Zoro's perspective, the way she counted the stars and figured out the cardinal points was witchy. Realistically, he knew that Nami must've had the same way of figuring out how to sail during the night and not only her, but other sailors as well.

The witch sat on the deck, her back resting against the mast, her head tilted back to gaze up at the stars. The wound stung and it was uncomfortable, but she didn't want to bother herself with cleaning it up. Also, she had no clue where some bandages might be, and she didn't have the energy to go around and ask about it.

Meanwhile, Zoro knocked two times at Nami's door, opening it after receiving a sign he could enter. The navigator was sitting on one of the hanging beds in the room with some notes and maps in her lap.

"Do you know where's some first aid kit?" Zoro asked.

"Hm?" she raised her head at him, frowning. "Did you trip after drinking too much booze and got hurt?"

He rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"I didn't even drink today. Just tell me where it is."

"Should note it down in the calendar," she scoffed with a smile. "There should be one in the chest over there," she pointed at it by tilting her head.

In the corner of the room, under a small desk, was the chest she mentioned. He opened it and found what he was searching for.

"Oh," he heard Nami whispering.

When he looked at her from where he was crouching, she had a shit-eating grin on her face.

"What?"

He was absolutely clueless. The most oblivious man Nami has ever seen and, for the record, they were all oblivious as fuck.

"Nothing," she smiled innocently.

What is she up to? Zoro wondered.

With the first aid kit box in his hand, he got out of the room and walked back to the deck, where the same woman stargazed. His hand was still resting on the hilt of his sword while he stomped on the wooden planks. She hasn't moved one inch, except for the gentle smile that tugged at her lips.

The only source of light was a gas lamp on a barrel close to her and she glowed. He stopped in his tracks to gaze at her the same way she looked up at the sky and he realized quickly that his lungs stopped functioning.

I'll need some booze after this.

He let the kit fall in her lap and he was surprised by the lack of discomfort she showed at his sudden appearance. Each time someone came from behind, he saw her step away or react in some kind of way, be it a grimace on her face or a sharp inhale.

"What's this for?"

"Take a guess," he shook his head.

She was impossible. Did she do it intentionally?

"Shit, I completely forgot about the bandana," her eyes widened in surprise.

She undid the knot of said material as fast as she could, inhaling through her teeth at the sharp pain.

Only then he noticed an unopened bottle of something — he hoped it would sting his throat — sitting to her other side. He sat cross legged and leaned in over her legs to wrap his fingers around the bottle, tugging with his teeth at the cork.

"That was mine," he heard a faint voice complaining.

"It was."

He hid the smirk threatening to show on his face by placing the bottle at his lips, taking some long gulps. The alcohol stung so pleasantly against his tongue and he anticipated a sense of calm once he'd drink enough.

A restrained hiss got his attention. The witch's lips were knitted together and she tried to clean her wound with a wet cotton ball — it was alcohol, he guessed. After swallowing hard, she continued to tap the skin lightly. Her other hand was digging into her thigh, distracting her with another kind of ache. She was obviously concentrating, the reason why she didn't spit out smart remarks at him.

Zoro sighed heavily and let the bottle down with a low thud.

"Will you need stitches?"

"No," she muttered.

If she wouldn't have been hurt, her face would've looked almost cute.

Since when did he start thinking that way about people? It must be the booze.

She seemed relieved when she finished. The next step was to apply some ointment, which was less troubling.

Then, came the impossible task: wrapping her wound with one hand. Since her other upper arm was hurt, she couldn't do it any other way. The wheels before her eyes worked well enough — certainly, there were a few ways she could do that.

It couldn't be that hard, right?

The swordsman by her side achieved inhuman abilities, because telepathy wasn't something that happened naturally. She needed help dressing the wound.

The real issue was will she ask for help?

He didn't know exactly why he wanted to hear her say something. Anything. The smallest word leaving her lips would sound like a yes in his head and he would act accordingly with the alcohol swimming through his veins.

It wasn't in his nature to be so calculated. Nonetheless, exceptions always existed.

He didn't need to be proud about helping her. No, it was far from that. He had another kind of pride and it settled in the scabbards still holding his swords at his hip. Zoro wanted to see how far she'd go until she realized that asking for help wasn't a sin.

"Um," her lips parted.

"Give me the bandages."

He opened his hand for her to place the white material in it.

"I wanted to say that you owe me a bottle of booze," she blinked up at him confused.

He didn't wait for her to give him the bandages, instead, he took them by himself and positioned himself a bit closer. Suddenly, the alcohol seeping in his bones helped more than he guessed the first time he saw the bottle.

Was he holding back his usual strength at that moment? There were no coherent thoughts in his head while he wrapped the white material around her upper arm as gentle as he was capable of. Zoro avoided grazing his fingertips over her skin, but it was impossible any other way, so he found himself in a weird stance: his hand would hold her arm still from time to time while he rolled the bandages.

A cruel mistake was to look into her eyes, which he unfortunately did. The witch was also looking at him. Probably, he should be more grateful about the way her intense gaze didn't falter when it met his own, even if it made his stomach tingle.

He drank too much. Or too little.

There was one way to find out and that would be taking another bottle to drown down his throat.

He was never the one to look away first, be it an enemy or a friendly staring contest. However, he failed that time.

There must've been some potion in that bottle. Otherwise, there was no explanation.

"Thank you."

It was the second time she thanked him in a day. The swordsman didn't see much in these things, but he was genuinely intrigued about the nature of his own gestures. As someone used to actions, questions sounded pointless in between his thoughts. Then, why did he suddenly ask instead of straight up finding out the answer?

Why did he do these things without being asked to?

"Sure," he let out softer than it was meant to be.

He got up and headed to the galley to grab two more bottles of alcohol.

There was a different feeling than the usual duty he felt about people. She didn't need his protection or help, she could perfectly do it all on her own. She skillfully tossed knives through the air and was awfully proud about her abilities, a confident smile on her face.

Zoro never asked, but he guessed she was part of that world long before they appeared in her life. It wasn't possible to follow the rules of the sea unless you sailed before and she conquered the power of water itself.

And the strength of his heart on top of that.

"Zoro!" Luffy's enthusiastic voice beamed. "Let's learn the stars."

"What?"

Wasn't that the reason why Nami and the witch were on that ship? They already knew a lot.

"It's fun! I didn't know there were bears in the night sky!"

"Of course there aren't bears in the sky!" Usopp commented.

"They're just constellations, Luffy," the woman chuckled.

Both of them came to her like curious owls with big eyes, begging her to show them some stars; now, all of them sat on the deck. Of course their supposed captain would learn about anything only to forget half of it the next minute, but the intention mattered, right?

She didn't expect the swordsman to accept Luffy's invitation, but he did so, sitting in the same place he did a minute ago. Only the booze would determine whether or not he'd have enough patience to concentrate.

"Why is it called Ursa Major? Is there another one?" Usopp turned his head.

"Yes: Ursa Minor," she pointed her index finger at the sky above. "The Ursa Major is there, right? They look the same, but the other one is smaller."

The sky was filled with stars and there were so many of them, it was almost impossible to spot a specific one. They sparkled beautifully, as if they smiled back at the pirates eager to learn their names.

"Where, where?" Luffy looked up, confused.

The witch moved her hand to the side and pointed at another constellation.

"Search for the same figure, but in smaller form."

"Fount it!" Luffy and Usopp exclaimed in unison.

She let out another soft chuckle and the swordsman paid more attention to that lovely sound than the stars she mentioned.

"See the tip of the bear's tail? That is its brightest star and it's called the North Star. Whenever you point towards the spot on the horizon directly below it, it means you're pointing north."

Luffy's lips were opened in surprise while he looked at the sky.

"So you're also a navigator!"

"Just because I'm better than Zoro at directions doesn't mean I'm a navigator," she joked lightly.

"I think you're overdoing it," the swordsman huffed.

"That's why you were so late?!"

Usopp was already cackling.

"The mansion was in front of your eyes and you still decided to go the other way," she nudged at him.

"I was just checking around," he muttered between gritted teeth.

"You're so bad at lying, Zoro," Luffy teased him.

Their captain and the sniper were laughing colorfully, until tears gathered on top of their lashes. The sound was accompanied by the same reaction coming from the witch, who was unaware of the palm she placed on Zoro's shoulder, while the other hand was holding onto her stomach.

However, the swordsman was hyper aware about it. It warmed him up almost as pleasantly as the booze, but it was a foreign sensation settling into his stomach. Those gentle fingers that wielded knives and had been dirtied by blood touched him and he didn't have an ounce of will within to push her away.

It's just a touch, what am I getting so worked up for?

"We just need to find a musician and the crew is complete!" Luffy smiled brightly.

The witch's hand dropped from Zoro's shoulder, gripping at one of the bottles he brought with him.

"I can sing," she whispered as if it was meant to be only for herself.

"I can dance!" Usopp grinned. "Guys, you have no idea how I was the star of countless parties! Captain, you have everyone you need right here."

Before the Straw Hat could say anything, the witch opened her bottle.

"With a guitar, Luffy, otherwise I won't start disturbing the fish in the sea," she let out a short sigh.

"If we find a guitar at our next destination, do you promise to play the guitar?"

The puppy eyes boring holes into her forehead couldn't be ignored so easily. Defeated, she nodded and took a long gulp from the bottle.

"Great!"

And with that, Luffy got to his feet, his chin tilted down to look at his friends.

"Good luck with the night watch."

"I'll come to watch over you, Luffy," Usopp solemnly touched his heart. "Who knows when an enemy will sneak in. I need to be prepared and protect my friends!"

"So tonight we find out about your snoring habits," the swordsman arched his eyebrow.

"I don't snore!" he frowned while he walked side by side with Luffy.

"Good night, you two," the witch smiled in their direction.

Zoro continued drinking from the bottle in his hand, the first one he picked up already empty, sitting by his side. The witch had far less resistance than him and none of them got some well deserved sleep in the last two days. He acknowledged the proximity between him and the woman sitting at his right, but annoyance crawled up his throat — why he wanted to be near her was beyond him.

"For how long have you been on a ship?" he wondered out loud.

"Is it obvious it's not my first time?"

They turned towards each other at the same time, locking gazes the same way they did when he bandaged her wound. At least that time there was a plausible and logical reason — one he created on the spot. The second time it happened, he was just pulled towards her like a magnet.

And maybe they were not exactly opposites nor each other's mirror, but they always found themselves in the presence of the other.

"This can't be your first journey on the sea," he shrugged. "You're not scared at all."

"Did you just imply that I'm scared of water?" she cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Then are you scared of land? You were damn anxious back in Syrup Village."

The witch crossed her arms under her chest in a defensive manner.

"It was my intuition."

"You were losing your shit."

His teasing comment received a wide-eyed stare from her.

"That's not true."

Her lips were pulled in a thin line right after and she averted her eyes, looking back at the stars. She was searching for the right words to tell him lame stories she was fond of.

"I'm used to sailing, yeah. Was part of a crew for almost two years and then left because I couldn't find my place there. It was my father's crew."

"So it runs in the family."

"Kind of," a sour smile creeped on her lips. "My mother hated pirates. How come she married one? He didn't become a pirate until years later."

After another long glance towards a constellation she just noticed, she brought the bottle to her lips and gulped down until half of the bottle was gone. The memories flowing back always left a bad taste in her mouth, a sensation she wanted to fight against with some more alcohol.

"And you are a pirate."

The conclusion was obvious.

"I don't think I have to say it out loud, do I?"

The sad smile on her lips didn't falter. The spoken admission that her mother hated her guts for choosing the same life as her father would've hurt more than the silence that spoke for itself. Memories sucked her into the past like a water vortex in the middle of the sea.

"What do you mean by 'I'm leaving in the morning?" her mother had furrowed her eyebrows at her.

The tension could've been cut through with the knife resting against the young girl's hip. She resembled her father too well: they walked the same, they had the same gaze and far too similar weapons.

Before her mother's eyes wasn't standing a daughter anymore, but a pirate, monsters she hated from the bottom of her heart. Cruel, ruthless, merciless monsters with no hearts. People with egos bigger than their bounties and strength that could wipe away entire islands.

Demons.

Her daughter has become a demon.

"You're talking after your monster of a father," her mother spat out after slapping the table with her palm.

"We both know he was more humane than you."

"Where did you learn such words from, girl?!"

"You."

The witch was still standing in front of the door with a bag hung over her right shoulder. A merely sixteen years old with fire burning in her irises.

"He's a criminal and a thief on top of it! A liar! A betrayer!" the woman's voice rose higher, threatening to break glass.

"Maybe you didn't agree with his living style, but he's never done anything to us! The sea is a battlefield, it's kill or get—"

"I've heard that excuse coming from him countless times, I don't need you to quote that man!"

"If he is just 'a man' for you, just know that he was always more of a father for me than you were a mother."

A sharp sound bounced off the walls and the young witch's cheek stung after the woman's hand flew across her face. Her head turned to the side, but no whimper left her lips.

"I dare you to say that again. As if you didn't live under my rooftop ever since he became a pirate — a monster."

The young girl used to be bold even at that time. Her left cheek ached painfully, but it didn't stop the fire from burning. No, it was like pouring gasoline over it, thinking it would stop.

She turned her head towards her mother and rolled her shoulders back, eyes boring holes into her forehead.

"He was a better father than you were a mother."

A stable voice and clear words filled with venom to the brim. She didn't falter, nails digging into her palms as she tried to contain her anger — her hatred.

"Is that what you wanted to hear? You lack self awareness, mom. You seem to forget about the times when you'd tell me I'll become a failure just like him. You intentionally brush aside the speeches you gave me about how no matter what I wish for, I have to just suck it up and accept the fact that all I will ever be is an obedient girl. I'm not obedient and I'm not a girl — I'm a pirate. No one on the sea cares whether or not I'm a woman."

"These are fairy tales for children! You won't be able to survive for longer than a day. You will come back crawling at me and I'll remind you who was right!"

"See? Exactly what I was saying. You're just proving my points and yet you cease to realize. Everytime you hit me, everytime you degrade me, every single time when you want to show me you have power over me — all of these are pointless."

A reckless teenager grasping for the first time at the notion of freedom after mourning her deceased father for five days. A flame learning how to burn.

She made one step closer, the furrow between her eyebrows deepening.

"Kill me. You've always craved seeing my father dead, didn't you? Why don't you kill me too? Wouldn't that make you happy? I bet it would, since you always acted like it."

Words could hurt and she learnt it from her mother, it seemed like. She's never heard someone use words like she wielded knives better than that woman and that time it backfired.

Before she even realized it, the bottle her fingers gripped at was almost empty, making it easier for tears to gather in the corners of her eyes. She's been silent for so long and Zoro glanced at her from his peripheral.

"And him?"

"Been dead for three years. I became a part of his crew right after. It didn't make any sense to continue living in my hometown any longer. They're like a shadow ship — they refused to give the title of Captain to someone else, even if technically the one in command now is the Vice Captain. Whenever they need to make a decision, they think of what their deceased Captain would've done."

The swordsman by her side crossed his arm over his chest and grinned.

"That's one hell of a loyal crew."

They were my family, even if they would drink late in the night and have awful cooking skills. They would laugh and offer me advice, they taught me what a pirate's pride is about.

"You still seem regretful."

The witch turned her head towards Zoro and he swore he'd never seen so many emotions flowing in those beautiful eyes of hers. They glowed with golden sparkles hence the gas lamp. There laid honesty and fierceness, a human who turned against its nature and decided to go further.

"I never regretted leaving. I don't regret any of it. Maybe there were things I shouldn't have said or done. I could've been kinder, less revengeful. If I am to be honest, despite being aware of the consequences and effects of my actions, I don't regret it. It can't be undone and there's no place for apologies when I meant what I said."

"The crew scolded you."

It wasn't a question, but a statement. Obviously, the crew was formed by men and a few women past twenty. They had more life experience than her.

"A little bit. They were, indeed, more mature than me," her head turned towards the horizon again.

Vague and cryptic answers, harder to decipher than Poneglyphs. However, Zoro wasn't an archeologist and he didn't ask for more than she was able to share, which made her shoulder relax. The witch didn't even notice when she tensed up.

He stretched out his legs from their crossed position and leaned better against the barrel. It seemed like the pirate hunter didn't have any intention of leaving the deck.

Their shoulders remained close and none of them moved closer or farther away. Both of them were content with burning a little more before admitting the truth even to themselves.

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